#either running away or you both accept just one kiss before pretending nothing happened

[solomons-poison]

Idk why but I'm really in the mood for angsty first kisses. Maybe that's what my long lost JJK angst thought was 🤔

Anyway have some angsty first kiss thoughts~ not specific to any fandom, feel free to rb

But just like. The mutual attraction is strong, chemistry undeniable, but the tension knowing you shouldn't get together, that you can't get together. Either both of you know this, or only you know while you keep the other in the dark.

Perhaps there's some barrier there of:

"what if this fucks up our friendship"

"what if we actually aren't in love/it's one-sided and this is a mistake"

"If we fall in love, it'll put one of us in incredible danger", or

even just the classic arranged marriage AU where they're already promised to someone else, so it'll just be painful starting something that you know you have to end.

But fuck you just can't stay away. Every time you're alone together, you just gravitate towards one another. Everything they say makes your heart pound. The sound of your laughter is the best thing they've heard in their life. You have to fight yourself not to touch them, not to make eye contact for too long, watch how much you speak or who knows what you'll blurt out.

And then all it takes is that one moment. Accidentally bumping into each other, maybe inhibitions have been loosened, maybe they're the only one you can turn to in an awful moment. Or perhaps they're fed up with you running away, wanting to make the first move and just see where it takes you. And suddenly, your lips are pressed together, clinging for dear life to each other like the other will disappear if you're not holding on tightly.

This is the first, and presumably last, time you've kissed, but somehow it's like they know exactly what you want, like they've done this hundreds, thousands of times before. And for this one spectacular moment, everything is perfect.

But nothing lasts forever, and when one of you breaks the kiss, even just to catch your breath, reality comes rushing back in. All of a sudden, you remember why you weren't supposed to do this, that this was only going to go downhill and you'd be left with pain afterwards.

Before you know it, your legs are taking you away from that place, putting distance in between you two to stop you from continuing that damned perfect kiss. Maybe you cut off contact, or even move away entirely to prevent a repeat. All you know is, everything has changed, and there's no going back from the bliss you encountered.

[nouvxllev]

closed-door policy || p2

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were more than friends but less than lovers. Where does that put the both of you in the spectrum? You were friends-with-benefits, sure, you guys are anyway, but a part of you wanted something real.

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: light smut

a/n: so sorry for very late update! i got caught up in work and school. its kicking my ass. but anyway, here it is.

part 3 || masterlist.

Love.

Oh, how Wednesday loved to hate it.

A meaning that only rang true to those who were foolish enough to commit to another's heart. To those who were foolish enough to cling to the elusive hope of happy endings, to those who were foolish enough to believe in the existence of soulmates, and to those who depend their happiness on someone's mercurial heart.

It was odd. How she hated love. She grew from a family destined to fall in love with their other half or they'd simply perish from a broken heart and their own woe, the people who showed their love to another in such unique ways others can't even fathom. However, she does have the characteristics.

Loyal? She'd forever be clung to a typewriter than a phone in the 21st century. Committed? She'd stop her heart if she ever needed to elaborate on it for her novel. Devoted? She spares at least an hour or two every day for her literature. Loving? Maybe not so. She'd rather drink a gallon of caramel drizzled with honey and sweet chocolate out of someone's eyesockets before having a committed relationship with someone.

Wednesday closed off everyone from her life, built walls hard to tear down even if she met another version of herself, and kept everything locked in a safe where no one knew the code. Her heart will forever be closed, and her soul will forever be overgrown with thorns with curses and cries from those desperate enough to fall for her.

But then you came along.

Ever since then, she hated love even more.

But most importantly, she hated you.

The way you entered her life in more ways than one, the way you smiled everytime you looked at her knowing you'd just receive a glare back, the way you were considered as that one girl who always got into trouble because you just couldn't accept losing, the way you run your hands through your hair, the way it just falls back gracefully down to your shoulders, the way your nose scrunches up when you find something funny, the way your eyes shimmer in the sun, the way your face looks in the moonlight, the way you laugh, the way everytime Wednesday looks at you she's reminded that she has a beating fucking heart that she knew she closed off.

Wednesday hated all of it.

She often pitied those who willingly fell in love with her more than those who pleaded for mercy.

She often pitied those who fell in love in general.

So, why did she feel pity for herself when she met you?

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"We're friends."

No, you couldn't say that. You'd be lying to yourself.

Friends don't look into their friend's eyes as if they created a whole galaxy for them in their hands. Friends don't kiss each other behind closed doors, friends don't have this weird feeling to outright propose to them, and friends definitely don't dream of absolutely ravaging the fuck out of another.

But lovers don't wake up the morning after pretending that nothing happened either.

So, what were you to Wednesday?

You were more than friends but less than lovers. Where does that put the both of you in the spectrum? You were friends-with-benefits, sure, you guys are anyway, but a part of you wanted something real.

A tired sigh escaped your lips. The cold breeze and the familiar setting of being awake at 5:00 finally hits you. You didn't even notice you were sitting up, the creak of the bed echoing in the silent room alongside your breath. The headboard pressed against your back and that stupid pain in your chest that never seemed to go away no matter how much you yelled at your body to just stop. Or maybe that wasn't much of a treatment.

As you looked towards your left, you found yourself sighing yet again, but out of relief. Wednesday.

A calming sight, you'd think. You always found it endearing when you first saw Wednesday sleep with her arms crossed around her chest as if she's inside a coffin. Okay, maybe at first, you were creeped out and you were debating if you should wake her up. But now, it felt like even if you took a hundred photos of her, it still wouldn't be enough to capture her at peace.

After a few minutes, you found yourself in the bathroom. The sound of water running filled the closed room as you splashed your face, trying to wake yourself up.

Leaning against the sink, the cold material seeping against your skin, you stared at your reflection. Your hands going up to cup your face, your fingers tracing the marks and the scars you carried.

You were always known for being that one girl who got into trouble, it didn't matter whether it may be from your actions or the actions that were caused by others, who thought it'd be funny to put the blame on you and the explanation would be your reputation. But it didn't matter, you think, atleast you were known for something.

You loved Wednesday. But you truly couldn't.

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

The room felt smaller. Smaller than it ever did.

"I just can't fucking deal with your bullshit anymore." They spat out, you yourself standing across from them with eyes that cried for nights. "It's like you expect me to bear it with you, why can't you just stop putting me in your own damn mistakes!?"

Your eyes mirrored hurt, but your body reflected with anger, replacing it as a shield for the shouts that were shooting to kill. "I'm—I'm not expecting you to bear anything," you stuttered, "I just need you to understand, to be there for me I—"

They let out a bitter laugh, "Understand what, y/n? Who would want to be burdened by your constant need to be loved?" They got closer to you, backing you into a wall, "You're unlovable, y/n. I can't keep fucking pretending that I can fix you or some shit. Why can't you get the simplest things through your head?"

"I thought we loved eachother."

"We didn't!" They shouted, "we never loved eachother, I never loved you, no one fucking did."

"But I loved you."

They stepped back to you, going over to their own place to pack up. "But I didn't alright? I never did, and I never will."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, just please don't leave me—" You reached out, desperation in your touch before they pushed you away.

"I can't give you what you deserve, y/n. You don't even deserve half of it."

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

Each time your gaze hovered over a mirror, the memory played over and over again, to the point you couldn't even tell what was real in that scene or not. You warped it into something you fear, into something you'd use as an excuse if you ever found yourself getting attached to another.

It came back to haunt you, it always did, but now, it didn't fear you as much as it did.

Maybe you were numb to it at this point, you'd think, but a part of you wanted to think that it was because of Wednesday. That she was the one, the one that would never be a relapse of the memory. The one that would erase it.

You let out a sigh—probably the 100th one all week—with the immense tiredness you were having overthinking. But it was fine, you'd say to yourself, you loved her.

"Y/n."

"Y/n!"

You didn't realize you were daydreaming a daydream until someone shouted your name across the sea of people, your body slumped over a wall holding whatever your friends poured you into a plastic cup, the bass-boosted music meeting your ears.

"Y/n! You okay?" You looked up, almost wanting it to be Wednesday calling out for you, but why would Wednesday be at a party in the first place? You'd have better luck escaping this party unscathed.

Your mind snapped back, took a while, and you managed a weak smile. "Yeah—" you hic, "Yeah, I'm fine." You wiped your mouth with the side of your hand, squinting your eyes to figure out who was talking to you with a fucked up brain.

She offered you a smile—actually, you didn't know at this point. You were too zoned out. "So sorry, who are you again?" you slurred, your free hand roaming around your pockets to make sure your phone was still intact.

The girl laughed, a sound that your thoughts didn't pick up at something familiar. Or Wednesday. "I'm Kary. I'm in your class; biology." She offered you a handshake, which she voluntarily lowered when you offered to toast instead.

The two of you were never close, not even spending two years together couldn't be enough for a friendship to start. You always seemed to notice that Kary was quiet in class, never really speaking to anybody. Even the teachers don't pick her even if she sits in front of the board; you on the other hand was always called to recite, leading you to believe you were the opposite of a teacher's pet.

Ever since transferring to Nevermore, you were always the number one attendee at parties, even if you admitted they were not your style. You always told her how they're "filled with hormones", "a competition to see who gets knocked out passed out on the cold floor first," or just "simply for teenagers to drink their troubles away."

Despite your critiques on the matter, you were always there.

The night went on, and your mind was starting to feel hazy. More cloudy than it should be with the alcohol you're drinking. Kary's touched lingered longer on your arm, her body getting closer to yours, and she looks at you with half-lidded eyes.

She leaned in close to you, her lips almost going to yours if you hadn't slightly backed away. "Where's Wednesday? I thought she'd be here after that whole thing happened."

The mention of Wednesday definitely caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat while the empty drink in your hands kept fumbling in your grip as you stuttered over your words. "Wednesday—She's… She isn't really that fond of parties. You know the gist." You laughed, awkwardly, your hands trying to push her away from undoing your belt.

"Kary, I don't—" was all you could say before you were interrupted, "Don't what, Y/n? It's a party, enjoy it a little—"

"Kary, please, I said I don't—"

"I must say, y/n would rather be entertained by pigsty doing acrobatics to save their souls." A sharp voice cutting through the haze you were so desperately pleading your body to get rid of it.

Kary's hands withdrew from your belt almost immediately, her eyes widening in surprise. You turned to see Wednesday there, arms crossed as her gaze pierced through yours. But more on Karys. The party lights illuminating her presence.

"Wednesday! Why—Why are you here?"

"You've left me a string of incoherent messages that I would not like to decipher if not for Thing becoming a translator." She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone that had a dozen of text messages—most if not all of it from your contact—flooding her homescreen begging for her to come to the party.

"I assume you needed my company."

"I didn't expect you'd, you know, come." You fumbled, your hand almost crushing the cup that was offered to you.

Before you could even respond, Kary interjected, "We were just having some fun, Addams." She spoke, for you. "Y/n was getting plenty of company."

"I assure you, having at least a dozen men falling under your belt should be much company for you. Not if you keep it hidden, I suppose," Wednesday stated, her tone cool and composed, but her fists were clenched under her arms and her jaw was locked.

You didn't know Wednesday was even calling your name out for the last 40 seconds, the alcohol finally taking a toll on your body as you just looked at the both of them.

Before anyone could say another word, Wednesday took your arm, her grip firm, tugging on you as if to call you back. "We're leaving. Now."

You stumbled alongside her, wondering where the hell did she even get all that strength to push you around. You shot a glance back at Kary, looking at you with crossed arms. You could almost feel sorry for the girl, you feel sorry for anyone who Wednesday decided to darken their footsteps. But you couldn't think of anything. Not when Wednesday had the most tight grip on your heart at the very moment.

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

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Wednesday pushed your back firmly against the door, her cold hands lingering on your chest, the click echoing through the room. Her eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense.

You couldn't hear a thing, every sound that entered your ear was distorted and meshed. "Did you even see the way she looked at you?" Wednesday's voice was low, a hint of possessiveness in her tone, her hands going to your throat.

Your breath hitched, your mind wandering through places as your hands sought freedom in her hips, your fingers gently sliding into her waistband. "I never pegged you to be the jealous type, Wednesday." You teased. A smile appeared across your lips, your eyes taunting Wednesday's serious ones, blinking. A falter in her gaze, you noticed.

Wednesday's grip on your throat tightened just enough to send a shiver down your spine, your mouth opening to let air out as she let her hands roam up to your face, her thumb grazing your lips. "Because I never am," she whispered, you whimpered.

Your smile turned into a foolish smirk, slightly laughing, "Then is there another reason why you're tearing my shirt apart?" you asked, your gaze drifting down to where Wednesday's free hand was frantically unbuttoning the blouse you had.

Her eyes followed yours, a faint red tint painting her cheeks as she huffed a puff of air, stopping her actions. "...That would never change my desire to slit her throat in half."

"Oh, aren't you a romantic?"

"Some would call it demented, I'd say effective."

She grabbed you by your collar, feeling your lifeless body obediently following her every move, staggering as you do so.

Soon enough, Wednesday let go of your collar and pressed you against the bed, your body fell and she followed suit. You feel dizzy, zoned out even, your hands going up to cup her face as she looms over you.

"You know, romantic or demented, it doesn't matter," you breathed, your voice rasped as you brought her face closer to yours as you allowed her fingers to unbutton your blouse, "it still won't help the fact I want you to fuck me."

Wednesday pulled back, a raise in her eyebrows, you couldn't see it if not for her messy fringe and hot breath on yours.

Her fingers, now paused onto the last button of your clothing, she traced a tantalizing trail on the edges without continuing, waiting for something.

You almost rolled your eyes, if not for the pleasure building inside you.

"God—fuck, please, Wednesday." You whimpered, pleaded out of desperation, running out of patience.

"Wasn't hard, was it?" She pulled you into a kiss, her tongue slipping into your mouth. Fuck, how she was so addictive. Her fingers roam freely around your chest of your body, letting your blouse fall open, while your hands wander down her back, caressing her curves as she perfectly arches her body against yours.

Every touch brought you to ecstasy, every silent whimper Wednesday gave brought you to heaven, everything about Wednesday made you feel as if you weren't alive.

You break the kiss, letting your lips fall to her neck. You let out a moan as you feel her body shudder against you, your chest rising and falling against hers while your hand slid through her hair, your fingers wrapping against her messy strands.

"I never thought you were into this." You look up to her, smirking.

"And I never thought you'd be attracted to someone like her." She fumed as if her name was taboo.

You sit up, an eyebrow arched in amusement. "You're still onto that?"

"I'll take it to my grave."

"Jealousy fits you, baby." You teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you pulled up your thigh, tracing lines against her clothed clit.

"It's—It's horrid." she stammered, her breath hitching as she shut her eyes and shuddered at the endearment, her jaw clenched to prevent anything from coming out of her.

You couldn't retort back, a sly comment was about to escape your lips until Wednesday took both of your wrists and pinned them together, her body adjusting and going up to your chest.

"Behave."

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a/n: damn i realized i do not know how to write atleast a tiny bit of smut to save my life. also probably going in more about how Wednesday feels about their rs next chap!

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Eight: Feels Like

summary: in the aftermath, revelations are made (7k words).

warnings: allusions to sex, medical complications.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Three words. Three simple words — and yet the most terrifying ones. The ones that changed everything. That marked a turning point, a declaration, a fork in the road. On one side, turn back — run to safety, to what you knew, the easier route. On the other, push onwards, accept change — take a flying leap into the air with nothing but faith to catch you.

And the look, the look on Eddie’s face. The pure, unadulterated fear at the way your features couldn’t dare to hide the swimming emotions that choked off your airway. The face that had betrayed you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands and captured your tears with his thumbs — as his brows furrowed at the pout of your bottom lip.

“Sweetheart…”

But it was too late. Caught up in the moment or not, caught up in the bliss of a post-sex haze — he’d said the words and they were there now. Out in the open. He couldn’t just will them away, couldn’t pretend he’d never said them, couldn’t turn back the very hands of time.

“You love me?”

You whimpered. Felt your heart cleave down the center at the way his mouth mashed against your forehead, those broad arms of his curling you against his chest, right where you could feel his form trembling down to the bone marrow. Could hear the thunderous beat of his heart clamoring through the tee shirt your fingers bunched up within your palm.

“I —”

His mouth opened. Shut again. Opened once more to speak, to say something, to hopefully quell your screaming fears tumbling one after the other within your mind, but as he did so the doorbell rang. A resounding ring that offered the distraction you needed to drown out the disquiet in your soul.

You dressed in the silence that echoed within the room. Donned a pair of sleep shorts and pulled on your too-big hoodie. Padded down the hall with Eddie on your heels, slipper-covered feet clapping against the floor.

Before your fingers met the handle on the front door, Eddie called your name. Frowned softly as you whirled around to look at him, those lips of his marred by hurt you'd put there. Had never meant to — had never wanted to, but it happened all the same. With a slow exhale, you leaned up onto your toes and pressed the softest of kisses to his lips. Caught the hitched breath in the back of his throat.

As you pulled back, your resolve shattered at the brokenness there. At the way he regarded you like you were already distancing away from him — or maybe it was him distancing himself from you. Either way, you could see those walls building up behind his eyes. Watched as he erected the surface brick by brick to protect himself. Couldn’t even blame him, because you knew you’d done the same for months now.

Eddie went and opened the door at the second ring. Lingered behind as you shrieked when, there on the front step of your home, stood none other than Micah and Jeremiah, their bags in hand and car parked on the curb, seemingly packed for a day or two.

You were all a blur of limbs and tear-streaked cheeks, your arms looped around Micah’s neck, her arms around your waist. Her hand pressed to your belly when you stepped back, jumping up and down excitedly when Elena made her presence known. “There’s really a baby in there! Still can’t get over it.” She nearly squealed, as Jeremiah looped an arm around your shoulder and Eddie’s and tugged you both in close.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not complaining, definitely not at all complaining. And even so, it was wholly unexpected. The last time you’d spoken with the girl, she’d been uncertain of if or when she’d be able to make it into town.

“Eddie invited us to stay with you two, actually. Wanted it to be a surprise,” Jeremiah said, clapping the man you’d been living with for months now on the shoulder gleefully. “Got yourself a good one here.”

I love you, Eddie had said. The words and the timbre of them, the way they sounded on his lips, filled your ears once again. Silenced everything else around you as Eddie helped lead your best friends further into his home and gave them a tour. You remained at Micah’s side, mind far away as you followed along with them, drawing comfort from the way Elena pushed at the palm you kept positioned over your midsection.

“You okay, babe?” Micah asked as you all settled down in the living room and the guys opened up cans of beer, sleep suddenly a thought pushed far away from your fatigued mind.

“Just in shock,” you muttered, far away, watching Eddie’s profile as he laughed at something your best friend’s boyfriend had shared. Eddie’s dark eyes met yours, and you heard it again: I love you. A mantra, a steady beat, a promise. “I just…can’t believe you’re here.”

Not a lie. Not quite, at least. And yet, Micah frowned. Reached over and laced her fingers within your own. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Not really. No. Not at all. You held your breath as Eddie offered you a weak smile — as you smiled back, knowing you needed a moment with him, and yet also acknowledging that now wasn’t the time. Not with your company for the next few days.

I love you.

His words screamed into that faraway, tucked-into-the-shadows shard of your heart. The place where the idea of ‘love’ had gone and ceased to be. The place where hurt had watered the seeds of resentment over the mere concept of it.

“No…no, it’s fine.” You assured her, and she seemed to accept the words, knowing better than to push you for answers. “Do you want to see what Eddie did with Elena’s room?”

A distraction.

You needed a distraction.

“Sure, babe,” Micah whispered, squeezing your hand tight as you excused yourselves from the room.

She didn’t press you any further.

——

May morning light streamed in through Eddie’s bedroom window. After hours of chatting with friends, you’d both made your way into the bedroom in silence, freshly washed faces and brushed teeth gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the gently parted curtains.

Neither brought up Eddie’s words. You wondered if it was for your benefit, or to protect his own heart. Like he couldn’t fathom seeing the look on your face once more, and the answer you’d unwittingly given by not saying anything at all. And even if you wanted to talk about it, you didn’t know how to bring it up now. The moment had passed, the harm was done, and the guilt that filled your heart overwhelmed every other thought you might have had in your mind. Because Eddie had gone and invited your best friends to Hawkins. He’d wanted to give you a slice of your home away from home, before your lives completely changed from what you once knew.

Even now, he held you close. The nearness of his body against your spine a comfort, a warmth you’d grown accustomed to, his breath dancing along the slope of your shoulder, where the strap of your nightgown had slipped down a bit. One of his broad hands rested against the curve of your hip, always seeking you out, always seeking touch — even in your sleep. When it happened, the endless need for close proximity, for touch, you weren’t certain, but it became familiar. As simple as breathing, even when love was not.

His other hand lay sprawled over the curve of your midsection. Rumpled up the silky fabric of your dress, edging the lace up higher on your thigh. Most mornings, he’d rouse you with kisses against every inch of you he could reach until you hummed into him, the press of him, hot and hard at your backside. Often you’d roll over, and then onto him, watching his umber eyes blow out dark, nearly black, with the rising sun as you sunk down onto him and rolled your hips over his. Other mornings, he’d wake you with his head between your thighs, or your mouth on him, a previously spoken agreement between both of you.

Today wasn’t like that. There were no long, drawn out languid kisses and wandering hands. No sighs as he inched his mouth along your throat, the huffs of his stuttering breath as your fingers slid beneath the band of his sweats, no pleas for more as his guitar string calloused fingers teased at your center.

Instead you were met with silence and persistent heartache over the memory of the flicker of pain that crossed Eddie’s features the night before.

Later, after an awkward exchange in bed wherein Eddie grumbled to himself he’d make everyone breakfast, you found yourself cornered at a local spa by your three best friends, their introductions full of giggling and excited energy. You were hardly surprised — Micah and Chrissy were very similar, two kindred souls, and Robin loved Micah from the moment they’d all met.

Still, it brought you joy knowing they all got along, their conversation easy as you all slipped into fluffy robes and sat around as massage therapists rubbed at your shoulders, eyes nearly closed from the bliss of it. Eddie had arranged the whole thing; a morning out with your closest girlfriends, getting your nails done, massages to follow. You’d gone with a pale pink on your fingers and a matching shade on your toes, similar to that of your daughter’s bedroom.

Eddie, who always went above and beyond to make you smile. Had given up room in his home, had been there for you the moment you told him you were having his baby, had stepped up in ways you’d never thought imaginable. Eddie, who loved giving the most of himself, had always done so for as long as you’d known him, who was still doing that now.

Elena was a lucky little girl. You both were. And it hurt you to dwell on it — the realization he’d done this, had planned it some time ago.

“We need to have an intervention,” Chrissy stated when you later arrived at a restaurant for an early lunch, her palms splayed over the table. “You’ve been in your head all morning. And don’t say you haven’t been, you have that little forehead wrinkle —”

“She does get a forehead wrinkle when she’s overthinking,” Micah added, nodding as she sipped at her mimosa. “I knew something was up last night. She’s been all giggly over the moon because of all the sex she’s been having, and suddenly it’s all grumbles and sad looks —”

“Well this just got interesting,” Robin mused, leaning back against her chair. “You didn’t tell us you and Eddie were christening his household.”

“You two are his best friends. I — it’s weird. And that’s…that’s not important,” you said hurriedly, tossing a french fry into your mouth. “I’m just…he just…hetoldmehelovedme.”

“I’m going to need you to take a deep breath and say that slower,” Chrissy said with an uneasy giggle, “because it sounded like you spoke another language for a second there.”

“He told me he loved me,” you told them, sipping at your cup of seltzer water, shrugging like you hadn’t just dropped a major declaration on them.

“Okaaaay, and?” Micah urged, waving a hand in front of her face impatiently.

Robin frowned. A soft and impossibly understanding looking thing that had her reaching across the table when your lips twitched downward. “Honey…”

“I didn’t say anything at all,” you admitted, fighting the urge to cry. Swallowed the watery sob that tickled the back of your throat. “He told me he loved me and I just…I sat there. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak — but it was too late. He looked so sad. And I feel terrible; I am terrible.”

When no one said anything, all around the table giving you looks with varying degrees of pity behind them, you continued, “I was scared. I'm still scared. What if he wakes up one day and decides I’m not what he wants anymore? What if he realizes he made a mistake?”

Chrissy exhaled, clambering up and off her chair to move to your side, arm looped around your shoulder. “Can we play the tape forward again?” She glanced at your friends, asking, “Don’t you think we should play the tape forward?” Micah nodded, Robin agreeing with a squeeze to your palm still curled within her own.

“Scenario one,” you said, exhaling shakily, “We continue this, he realizes this isn’t really what he signed up for, and he goes on his merry way. I have to watch him date other people, bring them around our daughter, and move on without me.”

Scenario one was always the negative route, and Chrissy nodded as you finished, offering you a comforting nod. “Okay, now scenario two,” she said, knowing it was her turn for her little exercise. “What if you two are it for each other? You raise Elena together, go on the road together, make new memories, fall deeper in love. You watch that little girl one day go off to college and start her own life, and you’re still just as in love, and maybe you’ve gone through some trials in your relationship since then, but doesn’t everyone? Isn’t every relationship worth fighting for? And you’re happy. Both of you are genuinely and completely happy and you’re together.”

“Also, Eddie isn't like those in your past. He’s not your family that walked away, not your friends who have come and gone, he’s not all those heartbreaks that have come before,” Micah added, offering you a kind smile. “I mean, he did all of this to make you happy. The man put together our whole outing and made sure Jeremiah and I had a place to stay while we were here. I think anyone who spent two minutes with you two could see how much that man loves you and your little girl…who isn’t even here yet.”

“Love shows up,” Chrissy said, “let Eddie show that he will.”

“Dingus Two found his girl,” Robin mused, poking fun at Chrissy’s husband with a cheeky grin. “But here’s the big question: do you love him?”

There it was. The question that had been plaguing you for weeks now. Did you love him? Did you love Eddie Munson? The easy answer, the one that came to your mind swiftly, was yes. A simple word, but along with it the heaviest of weights. You loved him — truly and deeply loved him. It had only taken a matter of weeks to fall for him, only a matter of weeks to solidify just what he’d meant to you, and a matter of weeks to realize what was at stake if you ever lost him.

“There’s your answer,” Robin teased, pointing at the small smile gracing your lips.

“God, I’m so stupid,” you groaned, curling a palm over your forehead.

“You’re not stupid,” Micah argued, running around the table to curl you and Chrissy into her embrace. “You just needed some time. You deserve this. You’re worthy of this. And I’m so proud of you, babe.”

Chrissy practically squealed as she rubbed at the tears collecting on your bottom lashes, all bright smiles and sparkling eyes. “I love you so so much,” she enthused, giggling brightly, “but…today isn’t over yet, and we’re on a time restraint. Eddie’s next request on your day of pampering is to find a dress, any dress, for dinner at my place.”

Your brows arched. “I have dresses back at our place —”

“He wanted you to pick out a new one,” Micah said, teasingly wagging her brows.

So with a renewed hope burning in your gut, your friends and you finished lunch, gathered your things, and headed to the department store where they tossed you dozens of dresses in search of the perfect one. And finally, as you laid a long black dress with daisies along the fabric along your form, you stepped out into the waiting area of the fitting room to three beaming faces, all of which cheering on your choice, your mind still whirling with the knowledge that Eddie had done all of this because he loved you.

And you loved him.

——

“No way…”

The words died on your lips as you walked out into the backyard after your girl friends and saw the array of people seated and chatting around the tables set out across the Harrington’s backyard lawn. There, along the interior of a tent set up above a table positively overflowing with baby gifts, was an archway of pink balloons, and against the table a hanging sign that said baby girl in pretty block letters.

And there, organizing packages against the table that partygoers handed him, was the man who was responsible for all of this. For your friends being here in Hawkins, for the evening you had with them at the spa and out for lunch, for the baby shower you’d just stumbled into.

Beside you, Robin, Chrissy and Micah were all glowing smiles. Little cheers and clapping hands as you took in your surroundings, from Steve and Jeremiah at the grill, to “the kids” seated around a table, waving as you entered, friends from work, Joyce and Hopper who you’d become friends with over the weeks, Wayne, who tipped a beer in your direction with a smile that crinkled at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

Eddie turned then, looking handsome as ever in a pair of ripped blue jeans and a black tee shirt that showed all of the tattoos you’d trailed your fingers over these last few weeks. He’d tied his hair back, little curled tendrils falling around the sides of his face, swaying in the gentle breeze as he walked your way and leaned down to kiss your forehead. Forehead, you noticed, with a pang of disappointment.

Still, your fingers curled in the front of his shirt, sandaled feet wiggling against the grass as you whispered, “Was this your doing?”

“Chrissy helped,” he said, gesturing to the blonde who merely mouthed that she loved you at Eddie’s words. “We invited all of the family.”

All of the family. Because when you glanced around the party parameters, family was all you saw. People who had been strangers months ago, and were now the ones you leaned on, the ones who loved unabashedly, the ones who had been there when no one else was. The ones you chose, and the ones who made you realize that, in a world of frequent hurt, there were people who would always walk beside you no matter what.

These people. And at the center of all of that — Eddie Munson.

“You didn’t have to do all of this —”

“I wanted to,” he said, brushing another kiss along your forehead. “We all did.”

“Now come on,” Chrissy said, practically bouncing on her toes as she rushed over to clasp your hand in hers, “there are guests to greet, and a special chair with your name on it for the mom-to-be. Let us spoil you!”

The evening passed in hazy pastel pinks that mirrored the sunset against the sky. Lilac purples as you pulled out baby girl outfit after outfit. Pretty olive greens on little sleepers and baby blankets. In dusty oranges, like the colors of the rainbow binkies, bibs and bottle tops you received.

Micah sat beside you writing down the endless things you got, while Chrissy and Robin giggled conspiratorially to themselves as they plastered the endless ribbons and bows on packages to a makeshift hat that you definitely knew would be atrocious by the end result.

Eddie lingered by Steve and Jeremiah at a lone table, his legs kicked out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, a smile plastered on his face. It made your heart skip in your chest, watching him watch you. Made you want to run over and tell him the three words that rattled around in your brain all afternoon with every new gift opened.

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

Later, as Eddie pushed the gifted stroller you got, filled to the brim with packages, into his home you thought about telling him. The words bubbled up on your lips as he and Steve worked on unloading everything into Elena’s room. As you started to put away the things you knew you could, while you tossed all her new clothes into a hamper to be washed before she arrived.

Steve leaned over to give you a hug before he announced he was heading out for the evening, and Eddie thanked him with a clap against his back and a tight squeeze, before the man wished you both goodnight and offered a final congratulations for the little girl everyone had celebrated that evening.

You slipped into your shared bedroom in uncomfortable silence, Micah and Jeremiah driving back home to the city and leaving you with a quiet home once more. It had been a tearful goodbye, your hands on her cheeks and hers on your midsection as she promised she’d be back as soon as possible to meet Elena. Jeremiah had even whispered in your ear he’d gotten Micah a ring and, after you demanded him to show you, thanked him for being the best brother by choice one could have, and a loving soon-to-be uncle.

“I’m going to spend the night at my uncle’s…” Eddie announced as you clambered up and onto the bed, blankets tugged high against your thighs.

“What?” Your head tilted to the side, not quite understanding, even as Eddie grabbed a few of his things and began tossing them into a backpack.

“I just…I think I need a minute?” He swallowed thickly, and your heart ached with it. With the understanding of what he was saying. “Just — just need to, ah, clear my head, you know?”

“Eddie, I…”

But you understood. Had seen the look on his face clear as day — the hurt there. He’d laid his heart out for you, gave you the power to do with it as you would, and you’d remained quiet. In your silence, he’d gotten his perceived answer.

“Just for the night,” he stated, a pair of his sweats tossed into the bag with a ratty old band tank top. “I’ll see you when I get off from work tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay…” You said, even thought it was far from okay.

None of this was okay.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to shout that you loved him. And even so, you knew now wasn’t the time. Not when he’d already made up his mind, stewed in his hurt, and ached with the full force of it. He was allowed all of what he was feeling — deserved to sit in his emotions and their fullness.

Still, it did nothing for the sting of rejection in your gut as you followed him down the hall, watching his backpack thump against his narrow back. Did nothing to quell the ache in your chest when he turned around and cupped your cheek in his palm, eyes dark and focused on yours, full of love and sadness all the same. Leaning up onto your toes, you brushed your lips against his, the barest of touches, a shuddered breath falling from your softly parted lips.

For a moment his resolve wavered, hands pulling you closer, breathing a little ragged. Flickered across his features as he leaned back down and kissed you again. But your fingers reached up and gently rubbed along his sternum, forehead nuzzling against his, and he took a step back, fingers curling around the front door handle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, night pouring into the home, anguish seeping into your blood.

“See you tomorrow,” you muttered back a little brokenly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he slipped out and shut the door behind him. “I love you.”

A whisper, a little too late, but not at all untrue.

And then, without Eddie’s laughter and voice to fill the home, silence.

——

Something wasn’t right.

Then again, a lot hadn’t been right since Eddie walked out last night to spend the rest of his evening at Wayne’s. Waking up had been miserable with the lack of Eddie’s warmth along your back. That and you missed the sound of his voice, that first slow breath he always let out when he leaned over and kissed you long and gently, like he’d poured all of the time he’d spent missing you in his dreams along with it, overflowing with emotion.

But this wasn’t just the persistent ache in your chest that had been there since Eddie closed the door behind him. This was a cramping feeling that throbbed low against your stomach, like your menstrual cramps but stronger. Breath falling from you in a groan, you walked over to the front desk library check out area, hand on your back, your coworker, Holly’s, eyes nervously fixed on your face.

“That’s five,” she pointed out, sliding out a chair and rolling it over for you to sit down on. Once seated, her hand curled around your shoulder, a contemplative look on her features, “I think you need to get out of here and go to the hospital. I’ll take care of everything —”

“I can’t,” you gritted out through clenched teeth, wincing at the pain, “It’s too early. I'm only thirty weeks.”

“Exactly why you need to go,” she said, and you nodded because you knew. “Please, just…get checked out. We can take care of everything around here.”

You tried calling Eddie at the nurses office, but the phone only continued to ring, the guys likely in the back working. Tried again when Steve popped his head in and said Chrissy would take you to the hospital, hugging you when you’d whimpered you were scared. Tried a final time when you got to the hospital, terrified when you were immediately hooked up to various monitors and pricked with what felt like dozens of needles.

“It’s going to be okay,” Chrissy reassured you, when the doctor’s said they needed to keep you there to try and stop what looked to be preterm labor. Words that terrified you, because they were the ones that immediately dropped like lead in your stomach, worry for Elena tightening your chest. Choked off your breathing. “And he’ll be here soon, okay? Robin raced over there to get him. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

Her fingers swept back and forth over your knuckles, words a comforting whisper that quelled the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage.

Mind whirling with thoughts, you closed your eyes and tipped your head to the ceiling, trying to breathe deep. Elena would be okay — she wouldn’t come today. Everything would be absolutely okay. The doctor’s were going to do their best to make sure of it. Chrissy was here, you weren’t alone, everything was fine, and Eddie would be here soon.

——

To say Eddie Munson hated hospitals was an understatement. The last time he’d been here, him and his mother had gone in, and only one of them made it out. This time, the two most important people in his life were here, one of which was likely scared out of their mind and he’d been gone. He’d left and something had gone wrong; he’d left and regretted it from the moment he’d closed the door. Had almost turned back around and rushed back into the house, claiming your lips with his, wanting you laying prettily against a mountain of pillows on his bed so he could whisper he loved you into your mouth once more.

But he hadn’t. He’d driven away and watched his house grow smaller in the distance, slept at his uncle’s, and missed your phone calls when you’d needed him the most. Had nearly shit himself when Robin rushed in without warning, earning the attention of all his coworkers, and said you were in the hospital.

“I need —” Eddie rasped out through frantic breaths as he greeted the front desk worker, chest rising and falling rapidly. He gave your name, at which the woman asked who he was to you, and he quickly added, “Husband. I’m her husband.”

The walk down the hall seemingly shaved years off of his life. Heart thundering away along the pale walled hallway, shoes tapping against the floor. He hadn’t had a chance to change, hair still pulled back, jumpsuit still on. Oil stained his fingers black, despite the hard scrub he’d given them before leaving for the hospital.

As he entered, his heart squeezed at the sight of you in a gown, an IV in one hand, a cuff around the other bicep, all teary eyed as he appeared in the doorway.

You’d barely managed to open your arms fully to him when he rushed forward and curled you into his arms, hand cupped around the neck to draw you into the safety of his chest, rocking you back and forth as you weeped into the fabric of his tattered jumpsuit.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Chrissy murmured, backing up out of the room, “I’m going to call Steve and Robin. They’ll want an update.”

As soon as she left, Eddie pulled back a bit and cupped your face in his hands. Brushed a kiss to either side of your cheek and rubbed at the tears that had spilled down your face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re here now,” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promised, his kiss on your lips bruising, and yet you sighed into it all the same, urging him onward. Gripped him tighter, his tee shirt hidden beneath his jumpsuit fisted in your palm. “Never again. I promise. I love you, I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry and I’m so —”

“I love you, too,” you whimpered into his neck. He pulled back, hearing the hitched breath you let out. The sob that followed. “I’m scared out of my mind, because of what you mean to me, but I’m going to be brave because this is worth it — and I love you. I wanted to tell you yesterday but —”

He kissed you again, urgent and searing. Felt you melt into his frame, arms looping around his neck, curling into the hairs at the back of his head. The heart monitor near the hospital bed spiked, and he grinned to himself against your lips, feeling your chuckles against his skin. Your sides shaking where he cupped them in his palms, the sides of his thighs pressed against yours, body leaning as much as he could over yours with the elevated bed.

“You love me?”

“Yes,” you giggled brightly, your smile splintering his heart into a million shining pieces, “I love you, you dork.”

God, he could stay like this forever. Pressed his forehead against yours, fingers laced with yours in your lap, breathing in the space between you two. Relishing in the comfort of the newness of love — basking in it. But a knock sounded at the door and Eddie was reminded of why you were here. Fear had him shifting on the bed, his mouth pressed to your knuckles as the doctor explained their course of treatment. You’d be staying under observation, medicine already ran through your IV in hopes of stopping things from progressing any further. Prognosis looked good, which had Eddie and you beside him exhaling deeply in relief. Otherwise, outside of the scare, Elena looked perfect.

He remained at your side for the next twenty four hours, only stepping away when nurses came in to check yours and Elena’s vitals every so often. Chrissy and Steve popped in to check on the both of you, offering to bring in food or a change of clothes or whatever else you needed.

Even Wayne and the kids had stepped in, running over to Eddie’s to clean up the place so that when you went home, you’d be able to get to rest.

Bed rest, that was. For the next few weeks, however long Elena decided to stay put, you were on ordered bed rest. Eddie thought your pouting adorable when the doctor had told you all the things you wouldn’t be able to do. Had held your hand when you whined about it after, not wanting to cut out of work just before the school year had ended (you’d grown fond of the kids). You’d also gone on to grumble about how you weren’t allowed any strenuous activity, head pressed against the dashboard in his car when you’d later come to realize that also included any sexual activity as well.

“It’ll be okay. It’s only a couple of weeks,” Eddie said, running a hand along your back when he pulled up in front of his house, kiss after kiss dropped against your temple. “Come on now, got to get you into bed. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“You’re not getting rid of me,” he promised, opening his car door and rushing around to greet you on the other side. “Except for when I have to work, but then Chrissy and Robin and the kids will be taking shifts.”

“You all really don’t have to do this,” you said, easing yourself down onto the ground, squeezing Eddie’s hand in yours. “I’ll be okay on my own for a bit.”

“I know that, but you don’t have to be. We want to help; we love you.” He laughed, coaxing you in front of him along the walkway. “Plus, you need to slow down. The doctor said so.”

Inside, Eddie watched your face light up as you walked down the hall and slipped inside his bedroom. He peeled back the comforter and tucked it around your hips once you settled down, before rushing around the other side and slipping in beside you.

His hand glided up and over your hip as you shifted to face him, along the curve of your waist, across the span of your arm, and then rested on the hinge of your jaw. Warmth seeped into his fingers, your lips soft against his when you leaned over to kiss him. As if you still couldn’t believe he was there, like you expected him to vanish, like you hadn’t fully realized he’d be yours forever if you’d let him.

And then, as your eyes started to droop in tiredness, you asked, “You love me, Eddie?”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

The other cheek. “I love you.”

Your forehead. “I love you.”

Your chin, where you giggled. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered, running his nose down the length of yours.

He’d reassure you every day if he had to, helping to heal your heart piece by piece — to prove to you that people stayed.

That people still chose love everyday and meant it.

Stay, when his father hadn’t.

Stay, when his mother hadn’t been able to.

He’d do it all just to have you here, like this.

——

Late June, Six Weeks Later…

——

“Why the pout?” Eddie asked, wandering into the living room where you were presently wrapped up in a blanket, thankful for the AC blowing frigid air into the heated home.

“I tried to go for a walk and couldn’t see my feet. I called Chrissy to see if she’d be able to help me, but then we ended up making ice cream sundaes instead.”

“Baby, you haven’t seen your feet in weeks,” Eddie said, dropping down onto the couch beside you, palm running over the hill of your midsection, still in awe as ever that he’d be meeting his daughter in just a few weeks.

“That’s mean.” You pouted.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, a gentle kiss brushed against your lips, “Also, it sounds like your day was better than mine.”

“Hardly,” you huffed out, snuggling into his side, “it’s the same as the past six weeks. I wake up, I say goodbye to you, someone comes to visit, I walk to the bathroom to pee seventy five times, I go to bed.”

“Only a little while longer now,” Eddie promised.

But he knew it had been hard. The initial days were an adjustment. For someone who’d been used to doing all the time, you’d had a hard time adjusting to being unable to do many of the things you’d done before the scare.

It helped that Micah and Jeremiah got engaged soon thereafter; gave you something to focus on, something to be excited about. After that, you enjoyed the company of the kids. Mike, El and Will would come over and play cards with you. Dustin and Suzie would bring board games, and you’d argue with Dustin when he assumed you were cheating (bedrest had just made you really good at board games). Max and Lucas checked in, back in town on a visit. Joyce and Hopper brought food. Steve and Chrissy popped in with Melody. Robin came with Vickie, always with new gifts for their new niece (no matter how often you reminded them she had enough clothes).

Soon enough, you became stir crazy. Resorted to working on puzzles, coloring in coloring books, watching your favorite movies over and over again. Walks were limited — not more than a few minutes allotted, just to make sure you didn’t overexert. That, and Eddie watched you like a hawk. Wanted to make sure you were okay at all times.

Part of you wanted to find it annoying, but it only endeared you to him further. Being in love with Eddie was easy. So easy you wondered why you’d feared it at all in the first place. He was attentive and doting, affectionate and patient, hilarity ensued and yet grave when he needed to be.

As much as you hated being stuck inside for the past six weeks, you’d loved that intimate time spent with Eddie, enjoying the fullness of your relationship before Elena’s arrival.

“Come on, let’s get in bed,” Eddie mused, climbing up off the couch, extending a hand your way.

“I need a solid cuddle,” you grumbled, hand on your lower back as he helped you up on wobbly feet. “My back is all crampy today.”

“You’re cramping?” he asked, sounding a little worried, his voice growing softer.

“It’s nothing,” you reassured him, rubbing at the place that twinged once more, “Just discomfort of being a million weeks pregnant with your restless kid.”

“Oh, so she’s my kid now?”

“She is when she stomps on my bladder like she’s at one of your metal shows,” you teased, slipping beneath the covers of the bed. “Can you believe we’re the same two people who met on Halloween?”

“Honestly?” He crawled in next to you, fingers trailing along your temple. A light kiss pressed against your lips. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you, Buttercup. Maybe we skipped a couple of steps along the way, but I wouldn’t change any of it.”

“I wouldn’t either.” And it was true. All the imperfections, the hurdles, the joy and laughter, the good and bad — you’d do it all again to get to this point. “I love you, Eddie.”

You said it all the time now. Randomly throughout the day, over dinner, in the morning, cleaning dishes in the afternoon. The words were still new, still so precious to you. Just as the man who held them near to his heart was.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

It was a whisper against the crown of your head as you rolled over, smiling at the familiarity of his arm slinging around your form, his chest against your back. Your anchor, for months now, as you slipped into rest.

Hours later, however, you woke to the bed feeling wet, Eddie’s hand against your shoulder, your head spinning from the pain that ached low, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the bedroom lamp being turned on abruptly.

You winced, and Eddie ghosted a kiss against your temple. “Eddie…” The searing pain followed, cutting off the rest of your statement.

“You think it’s time?” he asked, swallowing back the groan forming in the back of his throat as your fingers curled around his fingers and squeezed hard, the bones sliding together painfully. “Right — right, dumb question. Ow. Let me grab the hospital bag. You stay there, don’t move.”

It wasn’t like you wanted to anyway.

Panicking, he rushed around the room gathering your things. Tossed the hospital bag onto the bed, along with your slippers. He traded his sweats for a pair of jeans and pulled his hair back, as you slipped on a hoodie over your sleep shorts. When another pain lanced through you, you hunched over the bed a bit, gripping Eddie’s forearm as he appeared at your side.

“You have everything?” you asked through gritted teeth, straightening as the pain started to subside.

“Diaper bag, change of clothes for us, car seat…” he rambled off, coaxing you to walk down the hall, “the woman I love —”

“That was corny,” you laughed, sniffling at the tears that formed in your eyes when he opened your car door for you once outside.

His thumb brushed at your cheek. “Just trying to keep a smile on that face, Buttercup.”

As you buckled yourself in, he rushed around the back, clipping in the car seat like Steve had shown him a couple weeks ago. The hospital bag was tossed in beside it and the door shut, your eyes following his form as he darted around the vehicle and got in your front driver’s side. He still hadn’t fixed his van, so your car would be the baby mobile for a bit.

As he settled down, a kiss was dropped to your forehead and a palm cupped your cheek, those dark eyes of his searching your weary, fear-stricken face. “Ready to meet our girl?”

“I’m ready.”

——

our happiest little epilogue is next. thanks for being patient, i have been having a hard time again health wise, but you all make it less daunting. 🥹🩷

[milksuu]

I’ve been on the Ezreal brainrot ever since I discovered Heartsteel. And my little brain has been scheming

How would a relationship with him work out if his partner is an idol too and they have to sneak out to have fun together??👀

(Btw, unrelated, but I love how you write, it’s super fun and easy to read)

Dirty Little Secret | (O1)

❥ prompt: Let's face it. You and Ezreal hardly have time for anything with your busy idol lives. Unfortunately, things get a bit messy after you first meet. Luckily, both of you share a secret hobby nobody knows about. And boy, does it come in handy. ❥ content/warnings: ecchi, drama bomb, forbidden romance ❥ characters/pairings: Heartsteel!ezreal x idol!f!reader , Heartsteel gang an: omggg tysvm anon! honestly, im so sorry but looks like your ask is getting a part two lmfao! guess i went overboard with my idea, and so, your actual req. will be fulfilled in the next part. i also blame all american rejects for my non-original title. thanks for understanding.

No one knew about Ezreal's secret hobby. When anyone asked where he was going with a black gym duffle bag, he gave everyone the same answer. "J-Just heading to the main studio to warm-up before you guys get there. Nothing else." Little did they know, that's not where he was going. Instead, he was heading to a photoshoot. A very specific kind: a cosplay photoshoot.

I mean, who wouldn't want to dress up as their favorite anime/manga character, superhero, or original fantasy creation? Even better, who wouldn't want to be photographed while doing it? Ezreal felt he could be anyone and anything. Adored with attention in more ways than one. Best part was, with so many cosplays to shift through, no one ever knew it was him. Except you did.

And that all happened because you went to that same photoshoot. It was a group event held in a public park, surrounded by retail shops. It was perfect for both slice of slice or nature-esque shots. It was by coincidence your character and Ezreal's character were canon together in the anime lore you were cosplaying. Which sparked you two being asked to pose romantically with one another, and pretend to be going in for a kiss.

You gave your consent and Ezreal tipped your chin up, his face mere inches away from yours. You squinted your eyes against his features and whispered. "You look kind of familiar." As if you had seen him walking around your workplace just the other day. Maybe somewhere else you frequented? You couldn't quite place a finger on it. Ezreal couldn't shake off the feeling either. He tilted your face another way for a different angle. He laughed nervously, whispering back. "That's funny. I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've met. Maybe we're at the same cosplay shoots a lot. And now we've just noticed each other."

You accepted the rational. Either way, you didn't want to press it, in case he flipped the coin around and started asking you personal questions. Cosplay and anonymity were one in the same for certain individuals—especially in your case.

After a couple more pictures, you parted ways. Ezreal felt his phone buzz. He checked his messages:

[Yone:] Where are you? You're late. I believe you said earlier you would be here before us to 'get in some extra practice'. [Yone:] Care to explain?

OH CRAP! Ezreal didn't realize how late the hour was. He'd been so distracted, he forgot to set his reminder. And now he was officially going to be late— or, well, late-er. Sweating bullets, Ezreal quickly let his fingers type:

[Ezreal:] i'm there! just in the bathroom. might be a while. lunch is kicking my butt. 😳🚽💩💩💩

[Yone:] Thank you for the TMI. Hurry up then.

Ezreal wiped at his brow. He was running on borrowed time. Yone was sure to find out if he wasn't back within the next fifteen minutes. Snatching his bag from the public lockers, he ran to the public restroom. To his utter surprise, there was a line for the men's restroom. Seriously!? That never happened. And it's not like he could waltz into the women's restroom (which, not surprisingly, also had a line). He went around, and found a private unisex bathroom.

VACANT

He flung himself inside, locked it, and striped away his cosplay. Something shifted in the corner of his eyes—it was you. And there you both were, standing in awkward positions down to your undergarments. You pointed at each other accusingly, and shouted at the same time; "I do know you!" You both recognized each other as idols; him being with Heartsteel, and you as a solo-artist. Even though brief, you two bumped into each other more than once at the company building.

"G-get out! I was here first." You blushed, taking your moon-wand and smacking him with it. "Ouch—it said vacant!" He cried out, trying to block your magical melee attacks. "It was your fault for not locking it. How was I supposed to know?"

"I really don't have time for this. Do whatever you want." You tossed your wand into your bag, fetching your skirt. You shot a narrowed look. "Just don't look over here, or else."

"Fine." Ezreal huffed, rubbing at his sore collar bone. "Don't look over here either."

With grumbles and protests, the two of you changed back to back. All the while, still bickering. He heard you struggling, turned over his shoulder, and found you trying to reach your back zipper. He sighed, helping you raise it to the back of your neck. You turned sharply. "I told you not to look but...thank you." You peeked down and noticed his pants weren't zipped up. You reached and returned the favor. He blushed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He gulped. "Don't sweat it. Thanks for catching that for me."

A silent truce settled between the two of you as you finished dressing, and shared the mirror to freshen up. Ezreal realized you were also in a rush to get ot the studio as well. He called an Uber for the both of you. His phone buzzed and buzzed, blowing up with messages. He opened his group chat:

[Aphelios:] yone is pissed btw. rip ez. ☠️

[Kayn:] YEAAAA YONE'S GONNA GROUND YOU. 😈😈😈

[Sett:] Sorry, Ez. We tried to cover for ya'h. Hope you're alright. 😓

[K'Sante:] I'm sure he's fine. For now. Once Yone finds him, we may not see him again in one piece. hehe.

[Kayn:] HAHAHA HE'S SO SCREWED HAHAHAAAAA

[Sett:] Watch it, Kayn. Else im tellin' Yone you snuck out on the motorcycle last night.

[Apehlios:] i have footage from the house cam. 😏

[Kayn:] YOU GUYS BETTER NOT ISTFG 🤬🤬🤬

Ezreal sank down into the back seat. Kayn was right—he was so screwed. You watched his whirlwind of expressions from the side of your lashes. You couldn't help but feel bad for him. You were right on time for your schedule. And it was all too apparent he wasn't. You stared out the car window. It really was tough to balance certain things as an idol, and some were better at it than others.

When you both arrived at the Riot building, and walked passed the double swinging doors, there was definitely Hell to be paid. A bead of sweat ran Ezreal's temple. Finding Yone standing with his arms crossed, and looking down with a razor-sharp gaze.

"Is this why you were late?" Yone directed the comment towards you. Ezreal bit his bottom lip. Yone tapped his foot against the ground. "You have exactly five seconds, or I'm addressing your conduct with Alune. And if that happens, I promise, you won't like the result of our conversation."

He stumbled to get the proper words out. "No—I—it has nothing to do with her—I was just—"

"Ezreal did nothing wrong. I'm the one responsible for making him late." You stepped forward, garnering Yone's interrogative attention. "You see. I'm absolutely crazy in love with him." The whole lobby fell to dumbstruck silence. "I blackmailed him into going out with me today. I even went as far as to give him this hickey," you pulled down the top his shirt, revealing the bluish bruise against his clavicle from when you smacked him. "I took a picture of it. And told him if he didn't finish our date, I would tell all his precious fans he was taken. So...." you trailed off, unsure of what else to say. Ezreal's eyes were as wide as saucers from the blatant forgery of your lie.

Yone narrowed his gaze against you, as if trying to siphon the real truth. You only stared harder in return, solidifying your stance. Yone breathed out a tensive puff of air. "I'll be speaking to your manager then. Whoever it is, they'll be responsible for reprimanding you. In any case, don't you ever come near him again. Or else you won't have a career in this business—I'll make sure of that. Do you understand?" You paused, then gave a veiled smile. "Of course."

Before Ezreal could speak up again, Yone snapped a finger, pointing for Ezreal to head in the direction of the recording studio. He took a breath, as if wanting to say something—anything to you. But Yone spoke with a silent bite. "Don't make the rest of your team wait for you any longer." Ezreal nodded, bit the inside of his cheek, and walked away. About to turn into a hallway, he gave one last glance over his shoulder. Catching his stare, you placed a finger against your lips, before disappearing with Yone into an elevator.

And all Ezreal could think was: he really needed to see you again.

to be continued...

[quinnverse]

“I did not ask to be spared. I do not need you to protect me. I wanted this as much as you did. Why don’t you see that?” Shaking her head, Sarah pinned him with an expectant stare. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. There was no happily ever after on the horizon, but that didn't mean it needed to go like this. Only moments ago, she had tasted heaven and now she was plummeting back down to earth, his solemn expression only weighing her down further.

“No one’s paying the price. Nothing has gone awry, Mister Tallmadge. Nothing has gone wrong." Shifting her weight, Sarah reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. When she spoke again, her voice was low and delicate, as though she were comforting a child. "It’s just us here. No one is getting hurt."

The offer of being his mistress hadn't been her wisest choice, but she felt desperate. She knew they could never be together properly, so it only made sense that he might wish to keep her as a mistress like so many other men did. Once she was married, it would make things a bit more complicated, but for now it could just be a simple arrangement. She didn't see the problem with it until he looked at her with a pined expression.

He cut off his own words, but Sarah knew what he wanted to say. What he wasn't allowing himself to say. It was the exact thing she'd wanted to hear him utter to her, those three little words that could make everything feel okay. But, in this moment, they only made her feel hollow.

“No,” Her tone was slow and deliberate. If he could discard her feelings, then she could surely do the same to him. “You don’t love me. You did not love me before,” She echoed his own sentiments, her brows furrowed slightly. “So, you certainly cannot love me now, either."

She shoulders sagged as he pulled away, leaving her staring up at him like a wounded animal. Sneaking around as it was had felt exciting, but she wasn't stupid enough to think it was sustainable in the long run. He would grow tired of it eventually and she would grow weary, getting tangled in all the lies. It wasn't fair to either of them to keep themselves and their wants hidden away, but Sarah didn't see any other choice.

“I’m not ashamed. I will never be ashamed of you. I’m only thinking about our reputations." Slowly, Sarah moved to meet him again, resisting the urge to capture his lips in a kiss, to shut him up and suppress any concerns with her tongue. "You might lose your job if you were to be with me. I would lose my standing in society, and my sisters would ultimately suffer from it. You and I would both lose the respect of everyone we cared about. My parents, the Bridgertons. Miss Wynter. But we don’t have to worry about losing anything when it’s just us. It can be just us.”

In the end, you will be spirited off by some duke or lord, and I will be forced to pretend none of this ever happened. Incredulously, she took a step back, wrapping her arms around her naked form. She knew he was right, but she didn't want to accept it. He was resilient. He was a soldier, he would press on and continue living because he could. But Sarah would be the one who withered away because of the loss. He could have any woman he wanted after her, but she would be trapped in a bed with only her husband, whoever he ended up being.

“No, you won't.” She slowly shook her head, her eyes darkening as she spoke. He might find himself hurt when she married, but she would be the one scarred. “You will find another person to fulfill your needs. I am the one who will have to pretend. There were women before me, and there will be women after me. But you are my first. And there may very well not be anyone after you. Not like this, anyway.”

As her mind battled with itself, waging war between what was right and what felt right, all she could was stare at him. Her bottom lip quivered, but Sarah refused to let herself fall apart. She could hold off breaking down until she returned home, but for now, she had to remain strong.

“I do not aim to break your heart. Nor do I suspect you aim to break mine.” In a last ditch effort to get through to him, Sarah took his hand and brought it to her cheek, cradling her head in his palm. “So, can’t we just care about each other and let the rest fall away? Can't we just enjoy the time we have, while we have it?”

"I'm stopping me," Benjamin said, attempting sternness. "I should've listened to my instincts and spared you of this heartache in the first place, but selfishly, I wanted this too...and now we're paying the price."

She rolled up to sit alongside him, her eyes wide and earnest and piercing into his heart. "And if one has already developed? What then?"

Oh, God in Heaven...

"Sarah..." Her name caught in his throat, and despite his desire to touch her, console her, he kept his hands balled into self-protective fists. "Please: please don't toy with my affections. You didn't love me before, so you certainly don't love me now. You are only enamored by the feeling that coitus brings."

A hint of desperation needled into Sarah's mien, and then she was touching his arm, all but pressing into his side as she promised, "No one would have to know, a-and you wouldn't even need to pay me. We could just enjoy one another's company."

"Pay you?" Benjamin echoed, scandalized. "Sarah, I...I lo...!"

The unfinished words hung heavily in the air, burning him, suffocating him, and with an ache in his throat, he quickly shook his head. "No," he denied. "No. I don't want you as a mistress, and I don't wish to be the other man. Not when you are the woman. It's unfair to ask this of me."

"We're not hurting anyone," Sarah persisted. Her lips trailed along his shoulder, warm and honeyed, and sending a shiver up his spine. "We don't have to pretend when we're together, Mister Tallmadge. Isn't that enough?"

The fog cleared and he broke away in a huff, eyeing her incredulously. "No, it's not," he challenged. "Is it truly enough for you? To skulk about as if we should be ashamed?" Jaw clenching, he shook his head. "You may not deem my heart collateral damage, but I do. Because in the end, you will be spirited off by some duke or lord, and I will be forced to pretend none of this ever happened. And I can't do that. Not anymore."

[slasherhaven]

I'd absolutely love love LOVE head cannons for patching up the slashers wounds (pleaase)

Patching up the Slasher’s Wounds:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas obtains his fair share of injuries, whether from nicking his hand on a tool or from an altercation with a victim. Either way, you’re there to help him.

He doesn’t nick himself on tools often, having grown used to using them so often, but accidents happen from time to time. When you saw him do so, you had frowned, taking his hand in yours and fussing over the tiny cut.

He knew it wasn’t anything to worry about but he felt a familiar sense of adoration for you as you tended to him.

And when he received larger wounds, you fuss and fret even more. You insist on him resting, carefully and lovingly patching him up.

He never fights you, knowing it’s better to just let you help rather than attempt to do it himself.

Thomas usually tends to his own wounds and if he ever needed assistance, it was Luda May who would provide it. But now you’re there, insistent on helping him every time no matter how minor it is. It makes his heart warm and Luda May isn’t upset about being replaced, happy to see you caring so much for her son.

Michael Myers

If you want to help Michael with any injuries he had received, you’re going to have to fight to do so.

Michael will just take care of himself, handle it himself, and he doesn’t need your help. You know that he doesn’t need your help, you’re sure he has patched himself up many times in the past, but you care about him and want to help.

You have to tell him that you know he can do it himself but to just let you assist him. 

He’s not used to handing over control like this and he really isn’t used to somebody genuinely caring so much.

So the two of you end up in your bathroom in the middle of the night as you scold the man for getting in your way while simultaneously fretting over him.

He isn’t the most tidy person, so you’re probably going to have to clean everything up as well. But let’s be honest, you would have insisted on it anyway while making him get some rest.

Jason Voorhees

Jason avoids injuries for the most part, he knows the forest well enough to avoid any accidents. So most injuries come from messy run ins with victims.

Every time, no matter how little the injury, you worry and rush to him, checking him over.

This has happened plenty of times before when he didn’t even have anyone to tend to him, he knows how to take care of it.

But now you are here, and you always insist of taking care of him no matter what the problem is.

You’re always so careful and tender, love and concentration in your eyes as you patch him up.

You are such a wonderful addition to his life, a miracle, and he adores you.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is always scurrying around in the walls, and while he might be an expert at it by this point, he’s bound to scratch himself up every now and again.

So, when he catches himself on a nail or something, he comes to you, playing on it a little.

He’s scratched himself up before, sustained little cuts, and never worried about it. But if it means he gets extra attention from you? Of course he is going to pretend it is worse than it truly is.

You just play along, fussing over him a little, giving him some attention and affection.

Oh, and of course, he needs a kiss to make everything better.

Bo Sinclair 

Bo had received his fair share of injuries in the past, most of which he treated by himself. If he couldn’t see or reach the wound, Vincent would tend to it.

He does not need your help and makes sure to tell you such when you offer to help him.

You will have to fight him on the matter, prying the bloodied cloth out of his hand and demanding that he just let you look at the wound.

He eventually gives in and huffs, letting you have a look.

Pretty much pouts about it the whole time, reluctantly accepting that it is easier to just let you assist him.

You apologise whenever you accidently touch the wound or apply too much pressure, but Bo just grits his teeth and acts like he barely even felt it.

Rolls his eyes when you tell him that you’re finished but tell him to just take it easy.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent actually secretly likes when you patch him up. He doesn’t like to feel like a burden but he likes the feeling of being cared for, and you’re just so kind and loving.

He’s used to looking after himself when he gets hurt, he’s used to it and really doesn’t mind it for the most part. But now you’re here and you care so much about him.

He’d never ask for your help, not wanting to drag you into caring for him like this, but you always want to help.

If he’s cut his hand on something, you’ll sit with him in the candle lit workroom, tenderly caring for his small injury. He can’t help but admire the concentration on your face and the care you have for him.

And when he gets injured in a struggle with a victim, he is a little surprised when you rush to him so eagerly, concerned about his wellbeing. You insist on patching him up and making sure he is alright.

You’re so careful and delicate, making sure not to hurt him further, you always make sure he rests afterwards so he can properly heal.

Lester Sinclair

Lester rarely gets an injury he can’t take care of himself. He tends to stay away from the victims once they reach Ambrose, so any injuries he gets are usually due to cutting himself on a jagged piece of metal he didn’t see or just on his own knife. All things he takes care of himself.

So, when he gets home, holding a bloody cloth in his bleeding palm, he’s a little surprised when you rush over to him and clap his injured hand gently in your own.

He’s used to dealing with these things, and this is the first time you’ve been around when it’s happened.

But you guide him through to the kitchen and tender patch up his hand, with much more care than he ever did.

He just reassures you that he’s fine and smiles as you work, flinching every now and again when you touch the wound, quickly reassuring you again when you apologise.

He likes having somebody who cares so much about him, to fuss over him even when it’s not that big of a deal. He just thinks you’re so sweet.

Bubba Sawyer

The house is one big hazard, so Bubba is bound to receive an unserious injury here and there that have nothing to do with any victims they’re dealing with.

Bubba pouts at the injurie but he’s used to it, if he needs to wrap it, he will but then continue on with his day.

When you notice that Bubba has a piece of material wrapped around his hand, you know he’s hurt himself somehow and are quick to sit him down and take a look at it. He lets you without argument.

Bubba just lets you take his hand and examine it, cleaning it for him before wrapping it up again with some clean bandages. He can’t help but smile at how you’re helping him with so much care.

Once you’re done, you tell him to come to you if he hurts himself again, not wanting anything to get infected because he didn’t clean it properly.

And of course you give him a quick kiss to get him smiling again. 

Billy Lenz 

Billy has a habit of accidently hurting himself, cutting his hands when dealing with sharp objects, scratching himself on random things in the attic, ending up with bruises that neither of you know how he got them.

Nearly every time he comes to you, holding out his scratched or cut hands.

He really loves having you dote on him, so he loves you tending to his small injuries.

You sit together on the couch as you clean his hands, placing little bandages over his small cuts. He sits still, letting you turn his hands in your lap to inspect them.

After tending to his injuries, he requires a kiss from you to stop pouting and put a smile back on his face.

Asa Emory (The Collector) 

Surprisingly, considering the dangerous contraptions he puts together, Asa doesn’t really get injured often. Nothing serious or too permanent anyway. He might have a few faint scars but nothing that would cause too much concern for anyone who sees them.

But accidents happen to the best of us. A victim very very rarely gets to him, he’s more likely to injure himself slightly when testing or building new traps.

He always takes care of these things himself. If it’s just a cut, he will clean it, wrap it, and keep an eye on it until it’s healed. If it’s more serious, he goes to a hospital with a story in mind in case they ask too many questions.

It’s almost surprising to him when you walk in on him tending to a small wound and hurry to his side, offering your assistance.

At first he shakes his head, telling you he is fine and handling it himself, and at first you nod and take a step back.

But you can’t just stand to the side, he’s hurt and you want to help even if he is perfectly capable of doing it himself. So, you step in again, and he lets you, looking at you with a sense of curiosity. 

You take your time, clean and examining the wound. Asa lets you, but he will step in if he deems that you are doing something wrong.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) 

If you’re around when he’s sustaining injuries in his trips, you’re likely in some sort of assistant position.

In that case, you will have been trained in how to tend to wounds if a doctor was unavailable. You’re not a professional by any means but you know enough to patch him up.

Jesse doesn’t let any pride get in the way of letting you help him. He got hurt and you’re here to help him, he’ll let you work without complaint.

You’ve become very good at patching up his wounds and Jesse enjoys not having to do it himself.

Though, he always seems much more calm than you. You worry about him when he gets hurt because you care about him so much but he knows what he can handle, he’s literally been shot before and he barely seemed concerned while you couldn’t stop fussing over him.

Otis Driftwood

It wasn’t a serious injury, it required attention but it wasn’t fatal. As long as it didn’t get infected, he would be fine and you both knew it.

Otis didn’t really need any assistance with it and he had experienced worse, and dealt with worse by himself.

But you had heard his grumbling and complaining as he tended to his own injury and just had to step in. Both because you were a little concerned about him but also because his complaining was irritating.

You marched over to him, slapping his hands away and taking the cloth from his hand before focusing your attention on his wound.

He complained a little about not needing any help but allowed you to tend to the wound, watching you curiously as you fussed over him so much, you seemed so concerned for him when he had done so much more to other people.

Thinks it’s a little ironic that you’re so insistent on helping him when he’s probably the least deserving of it.

He can admit you get the job done quicker and with less cursing, but will never admit to needing help.

Baby Firefly 

It’s a miracle that the Firefly family doesn’t have more scars between them all, they live a dangerous life and are always getting hurt in some way. Maybe Baby has always just gotten lucky enough to get non-serious wounds and few lasting scars.

As soon as Baby gets hurt, you’re there to check on her.

It’s a small wound, nothing serious, something she has dealt with a hundred times, but you’re still there to help.

She likes when you fuss over her a little, so she is happy to let you tend to the wound and patch her up.

When you ask if there is anything else you can do to help her, she just asks for a kiss with a playful smirk.

Mama Firefly is glad to see that somebody is looking after her little girl even if she’s perfectly capable of looking after herself. 

Yautja (Predator)

Of course your mate has experienced his fair share of injuries, wearing his scars with pride. 

The only time he really gets hurt at all is on hunts and it’s rarely anything serious. It’s things that he’d usually patch up himself, making a trip to the med bay once he returned.

But when you see that your mate is wounded in anyway, of course you worry and want to help him.

At first, when you start fretting and fussing over him, he is a little offended. Do you not think he can handle himself? Do you think he is weak in someway?

Then he starts to realise that this is just something that humans do, they worry about their partners when they are hurt no matter how serious it is, and then he’s just proud to mean so much to you.

He reassures you that he is fine but allows you to help patch him up if he can’t see a medic at the time, both amused but warmed by your concern and love for him.

[mrs-march-ahs]

Kai Impregnating You As a Punishment

Summary- When Kai finds out you’re planning to avoid pregnancy behind his back, he acts immediately to make sure his plan for a new and better future isn’t ruined.

Warnings- Dub-con (I think), breeding/impregnating, car sex, unprotected sex, sexual punishment, daddy kink, arousal from crying, Kai Anderson. Words- 1.6k

This was a left over idea from Kai Week that I had planned based on a request, and I wanted to do it! Returning to car sex, fun! :D

Enjoy<3

--

“What is it Y/N?”, Kai forcefully asks.

“No honestly nothing”. You try your best to lie, but Kai always knew when you were nervous or worried. He also knew when you were keeping secrets from him, which is why right now you were completely screwed. Kai often looks through your belongings and does regular pinky power meetings to ensure that he knows absolutely everything about you. You know how some people say a little mystery is good in a relationship? He was certainly not one of those people.

With you now moved into Kai’s parent’s house with him and Winter, there is no place for you to hide your belongings. Not that you need to, usually. But sometimes when you get him a gift or have something to hide temporarily, you put it in your car, knowing he wont think to search it. But what you were hiding was no gift, but a stab in the chest.

He started being suspicious right away, when he walked past your car to get to his and your heart started pounding. He must’ve heard your heart almost escaping your chest and he instantly knew there was a reason you’d prefer to drive in his car instead of yours.

Kai sits in the passenger seat of your car, letting you drive for once, and stares at you as you start up the car, pretending nothing’s happening.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

You look at Kai and shake your head timidly, but try to look and sound confident.

“No honestly I’m not hiding anything”

You mentally slap yourself the second those words come out of your mouth, revealing drips of information to Kai, knowing he’ll keep going after the truth no matter the cost. You look in front of you and put your foot on the acceleration for just a second, before Kai snaps at you to stop.

“Stop. Get in the back”. He unbuckles his seatbelt and puts his foot to the side, ready to climb in the back, but stops when he looks at you frozen.

“Kai’s there’s nothin-”

“Now Y/N”, he yells, making you flinch, and hops into the back middle seat. You quickly unbuckle your own seatbelt and follow him, wanting to sit by his side but instead being immediately bend in half over his lap. Kai grabs your face forcefully.

“Since you’re having so much trouble being honest with me”. Kai pulls your jaw down.

“I’ll help you spit it out”. With that warning said, Kai shoves two fingers deep in your mouth, making your lips wrap around the cold metal ring on his middle finger. After one quick thrust to the back of your throat, he takes his fingers out when you gag and keeps them on your chin.

“Are we gonna speak yet?”. You take a few deep breaths, taken back by his sudden, and new, actions.

“Kai everything’s fi-”

Not even letting you finish your words, he plunges his fingers back in your mouth, or throat, rather, and keeps them there for a few seconds. Your eyes begin to water as you accept your fate, knowing that Kai has a thousand different ways to get things out of you, and you must accept whatever punishment you get for making decisions behind his back.

“When I take my fingers out, you’re gonna tell me”. You cry out in response and he pulls his fingers out, holding your face and twisting it to look at him. He raises his eyebrow at you, making you speak.

“Glove compartment”, you manage to choke out, still slightly shaken from the brutal throat invasion. Kai pushes you off his lap, making you squish on the floor of the car, not daring to get up on the seat if Kai doesn’t want it. He stands up and leans towards the front of the car, opening the glove compartment and shoving out all documents in there onto the floor and seat, without a single care in the world. He rummages through your things, noticing your driving license and car documents, nothing too suspicious, before looking at a small green pharmacy prescription. He takes it and plops back down in the middle seat, reading it closely. Your stomach churns and your previous tears return as you’re torn between looking away from Kai, scared to make eye contact, and not wanting to peel your eyes off him to know his reaction. After a few seconds of angry reading, he rips the paper up and throws it around like confetti. Without even an angry word, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up on the back seats, laying you down. He climbs over you, and watches your tears fall closely, completely captivated and aroused at the sight of you in distress.

“Oh, so you don’t want to get pregnant?”, he barks in your face, enjoying the way you flinch every time. “You don’t want to make a Messiah? And contribute to the fucking cause? You want to be useless?!”, he yells. You’re left under him, whimpering at his harsh words and shaking your head manically, hoping to make your situation better in any way you can. Even if it meant you had to agree with him.

Kai clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before speaking again, calmer this time.

“Have you taken any contraceptives yet?”. You immediately shake your head no, and try to blink all of your tears away. Kai whips his belt open and unzips his pants.

“I just got a prescription to buy them… I hadn’t even got them yet”, you whimper out quietly, not sure whether more details will make him calmer or even angrier. He lowers his pants before grabbing your legs and pulling you closer to him, and undoing yours silently and ripping them off. Crying always awoke something inside of Kai, but this was different, like a mixture of a punishment for you and a treat for him.

He leaned down and moved your head to the side, attaching himself to your neck and sucking on it harshly. Although the rough side of Kai scared you beyond words, his tough love still made you feel special, and him sucking hickeys on your neck, no matter how unaffectionately, made you feel like he was marking you as his. Therefore, he must’ve cared about you, even if he chose to show it in an unusual way.

He puts his arms on either side of your head, towering over you, making you feel both intimidated and protected by him, before sliding your underwear to the side. He pushes himself against your crotch and groans in your neck.

“This… this is really special”. He groans, as he lines up with you, putting his tip inside of you without warning.

“Daddy’s never done this with anybody”. A rush of arousal runs through your body as a strong reaction to the new nickname. Kai wasn’t new to nicknames, Sir, Divine Ruler, even Master. But he never called himself daddy, and he could feel the affect it had on you immediately, as he slid in you with ease. Although he pushes in slowly, the charade of softness and love quickly fades away as he slithers his cold hand under your shirt and grabs your boob, kneading it and squeezing it in his hand.

You gasp at the action, making Kai smile and kiss you, just once. He continues to talk to you with his lewd words as he begins to thrust. You submit yourself completely to him, wrapping your legs around his waist, and your arms around his chest, bringing him as close as possible to you so you can feel his warmth. He gracefully accepts your invite and puts his chest to yours, still with a tight grasp on your boob, rubbing your nipple with his thumb.

“Daddy’s gonna massage them so much when they’re all full of milk”, he whispers in your ear. You open your eyes and look at Kai with a blank expression, expecting an explanation to the weird statement, but he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he looks at you with a smirk and speeds up, keeping up the pace of the thrust and the roughness of his touch on you equal. Involuntarily you gulp, accepting the very appropriate punishment.

“God, I haven’t masturbated in- oh fuck… - in days… this is perfect”, he speeds up his thrusts, and closes his eyes, no longer caring about watching you tear up or orgasm. His sole focus shifts to fucking you as deep as possible, and ensuring he can empty as much of his balls as possible, filling you up to the brim. To guarantee your Messiah.

The new pace makes you clench, and panting and gasping as he fucks you restlessly, going deeper than ever before. He pulls your legs up higher and folds you in half, so he can fit his whole cock in, hitting your cervix with every single thrust. Just as the grip on your legs gets tighter and his moans get louder, you’re overcome with pleasure, your first orgasm coming over you and completely distracting you from how uncomfortable of a position you are in. The feeling of you clenching and cumming around him brings Kai over the edge, settling in the first load of the night deep inside of you.

Kai groans as he cums and rests with his cock deep in you, and you wrap your arms back around him and try to pull him closer for a quick kiss before he pulls out. But instead, after a few stationary seconds, he puts his leg on the ground and thrusts again, at a different angle. You whimper at the sensitivity and as does Kai, but he doesn’t hault and instead looks down at you cockily.

“I hope you’re not tired yet, there’s many more where that came from”

--

taglist, dm or comment to be added or taken away, it’s no issue to me:)

@milly-louise  @amourtentiaa  @kitwalker02  @tatestripedsweater  @therenlover  @maria-akira         @tatesimper  @thxc0untessesgl0ve  @mossybank  @ahsxual  @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess  @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan  @kitwalkerangel  @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt  @blackbat2020  @elaineygrace  @kaiandersonskoolaid  @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash

[cazimagines]

A Freudian slip

Synopsis: While at Madripoor you have to pretend to be Zemo’s latest date for the undercover mission which leads to you having to play your part out well, if it is really you just acting or perhaps it’s a bit more than that

Warnings/Tags: Sexual innuendos, make out scenes, refrences to sex, use of the word daddy, spicy moments but nothing 18+

Word Count: 2.3k

Author note: I wrote and edited this all in a day to avoid revising for my exams so hopefully the quality is good. I have more Zemo one shots planned but if you have any requests please suggest :)

This fic is also being published to my ao3 account under the same username

Masterlist

Sequel

You rolled your eyes looking over yourself as you stood within the bathroom in Zemo’s private jet. Because of the mission, Zemo had told you that you needed to dress up to the part and had supplied you with a tight-fitting black dress which only came down to mid-thigh length and had a slit on either side of it showing even more of your legs. You didn’t even know why he had a dress on hand in the first place but you weren’t going to question it. You already felt uncomfortable enough having to carry out this mission however it wasn’t like you had much of a choice either. Quickly checking to make sure your hair was good once again in the mirror you finally pulled yourself together and left the bathroom and headed outside the jet where Zemo, Sam, and Bucky were waiting.

As you left the jet all their eyes turned on you. Both Sam and Bucky had the decency to look embarrassed and glance away from you whereas Zemo didn’t hide the fact that his eyes were running up and down your body.

“The dress fits you well y/n, you look ravishing,” Zemo tells you holding his hand out for you to take as you reach the end of the stairs.

“Do I have to” You question looking from his hand to him annoyed

“You have to play the part y/n” he replies but Sam cuts forward placing his hand on your shoulder and leading you down and away from Zemo, “She doesn’t have to yet”

After leading you a few steps away from Zemo he places his other hand on your other shoulder and looks you in the eyes, “Are you sure you are okay with this y/n?”

“I’ve done missions similar before, this is no different. Plus I don’t have it as bad as Bucky” You say glancing over at Bucky sympathetically

“We’re both having to do things we don’t want because of him” Bucky states glaring at Zemo then looking back to you, “We’ll both pull through it”

“Hey, you better be including me in that as well. I would much rather be anywhere than here right now” Sam says letting go of your shoulders and pointing at Bucky

“You should be more thankful that I agreed to help you and kindly let you ride in my plane, but no matter now our ride is here. You might not want to play your part now but when we get out of this car your acting needs to be very realistic” Zemo says motioning to the car beside him.

He opens the door to let you in and places his arm on your lower back as you climb into the car. His gentle touch on your back makes you feel just that bit more intimate with him but as quickly as his hand was placed it was removed with Sam pushing past Zemo to get into the car beside you.

The car ride there was awkward, to say the least. You all sat in silence as the car slowly approached the city. Though Zemo sat in the front you felt his gaze on you when he glanced into the inside mirror. Your eyes meet at one point through the mirror and you quickly glance away not wanting him to delve into your eyes. Eye contact had always felt like something so intimate to you.

Eventually, the car pulled up and you arrived at your destination. The car door opened and Zemo’s hand was once again offered to you to help you get out. This time you accepted. He helped you out of the car but once you were out he didn’t let go of your hand, instead holding it more firmly as he started to guide you along with Sam and Bucky trailing behind you.

You two didn’t speak much as you arrived at the bar. Instead of taking a seat next to Zemo, you waited for him to sit down and then placed yourself in his lap, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and resting your head on the fur part of his coat. Zemo chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist so you didn’t fall off, and rubbed his hand slightly up and down your hip.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your mind wander as you rest your head against his shoulder. The smell of rich cologne and what you think were fir needles. You wouldn’t lie and say that you didn’t like the smell. The truth was you liked it a lot. It made you feel comfortable which was saying a lot as you were currently in the lap of a murderer but it was like you could fall asleep now and you knew you would be safe.

“Two glasses please, one for me and my lady here”

You open your eyes again, reminding yourself you are currently on a mission. You glanced as Zemo and though he wasn’t looking at you the side of his mouth curved up into a smile like he could read your thoughts.

The man places the drinks down and you reach forward to grab yours and hand Zemo his which he smiles in thanks to you.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” the man says to you, narrowing his eyes.

“I found her on my travels, showing her the world” Zemo quickly replies, and to make your relationship seem more realistic he places a kiss on your temple briefly. Even though it wasn’t anything that intimate it still made your cheeks blush.

The man chuckles observing you, “She seems quite innocent”

This time it was you narrowing your eyes at him angrily, “What did you say” you spat. You felt Zemo’s grasp on your hip tighten in warning as he chuckles, “Oh I can assure you she isn’t”

You breathed in trying to control your anger. You’d like nothing more to slap Zemo but instead, you force a smile at him then downed the drink in your hand. You needed it.

When a man came up to Zemo he quickly lifted you off his lap and stood putting himself in front of you and the man as he dealt with him. You watched in anger as he made Bucky fight while all you could do was stand beside Zemo and bite your tongue. You felt Zemo’s hand brush up beside yours again, not quite grasping it yet reminding you he was there. You take his hand in yours, wrapping your fingers against his gloved ones. The interaction makes Zemo glance down for a moment but quickly focuses back on Bucky.

When they finally let you go in to visit Selby, Zemo leads you once again not letting go of your hand. When you entered the room you just wanted to stand by the side with Sam but Zemo dragged you over to his seat making sure you sat on his lap, your arm going back around his shoulders, and this time his hand rested on your exposed thigh.

Zemo started talking to Selby about Bucky, acting like he was trying to sell off an animal. You weren’t sure exactly what Zemo’s plan was but you felt uneasy being in Selby’s presence. And dread-filled you more when she finally acknowledged your existence.

“So who’s this bird you have resting on your knee?”

“This is y/n, quite the treasure isn’t she?” Zemo replied looking at you smirking

“That’s for certain.” She turned to Bucky, “What do you think soldier”

There were a few moments of silence till Zemo said “answer” and Bucky replied, “She’s very beautiful” while still keeping a straight face and looking forward. Selby chuckles seeming satisfied and her eyes turn back to you, her eyes trailing up and down yours.

“She doesn’t talk much”

“I can talk plenty when I want to” You quickly reply, moving to adjust yourself in Zemo’s lap to appear more comfortable. In moving in his lap you can hear Zemo’s breath hitch briefly.

“Is she only yours Zemo?” Selby asks

Before Zemo got a chance to answer you were determined to make it clear she wasn’t going to get anywhere near you. You moved your hands up, running them through his soft hair and turning to stare at him.

“Oh yes I only belong to daddy”

You feel your stomach drop as soon as the words leave your mouth. You hadn’t meant to refer to Zemo like that it had just suddenly slipped out. Sam’s eyes instantly widened as he looked at you and Zemo however if Bucky had heard he made no indication, keeping the same stoic expression and staring forward.

Zemo instantly responded after you said that patting your thigh and looking you in the eyes and saying, “Yes I’m afraid this good little girl is mine and mine only”

You could tell from the way his lips curled up into a smile and his eye sparkling that he enjoyed what you had just said and now how embarrassed you were like he was teasing you for admitting something.

Yet his eyes also seemed kind, soft in a way. You were so close you could feel his breath on your lips and it made you want to explore his lips. It was just a mission after all. It was an act. You had to do this to prove to Selby that you were his ‘bird’

Raising your other hand you cup the side of his face, resting it on his jaw. His eyebrow quirks up in surprise at you initiating this contact but you don’t give him time to consider much else.

You press forward pushing your lips onto his. His arm leaves your thigh instead wrapping them around your body somehow pulling you even more physically closer. His hand grip on you tightens, surely leaving a bruise. You could feel his lips open slightly trying to press further into you like he had forgotten where you were but you hadn’t. After a moment you place a hand on his chest and push yourself away from him, breathing heavily.

You two stare at each other for a moment, speaking words of desire through your lustful eyes till the sound of a slow clapping breaks you both from your trance.

“My my wasn’t that a show,” Selby says smirking at them, “I didn’t know you still had that in you Zemo”

“Well…” Zemo trails off, finally looking away from you and shrugging his shoulders as he smirks at Selby.

They get back to business while you try to recover from everything that has happened. You could feel Sam’s eyes burning into you but you were avoiding him. How could you face Bucky and Sam after that!

Everything was going well till a phone ringtone interrupted them. Your eyes widen in shock, finally glancing over to Sam whose eyes are filled with worry.

The colour drained from Zemo’s face as they all watched Sam answer the call.

The rest of it felt like a blur. Sam’s cover got blown and that means so was the rest of theirs but before they could even do anything Selby got shot in front of them. Zemo wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you out of the building quickly. However, it wasn’t long outside before you were being shot at. Sam and Bucky ran forward whereas Zemo pulled you right and led you down an alley till the gunfire stopped.

“We need to catch up with Sam and Buc-” you started to say but Zemo pushed you into a wall, his body caging you in.

“What-What the hell?” You asked looking up at him, feeling once again a blush creep up on your face at how close you two were.

“Daddy huh?” he asked, smirking down at you.

“Are you seriously going to do this here!? Right now”

“I don’t believe we will get another chance of a private conversation without Sam and James” he mutters, still staring down at you, his eyes refusing to move away from yours.

You can feel your cheeks burning bright red and look to the side avoiding his gaze, “There’s nothing about it, I was just playing my role”

Zemo takes his hand, placing it under your chin and turning your face towards his. He leans in, his lips almost touching his, “You were very convincing”

You don’t reply, instead, your eyes are focusing on his lips, he slowly grazes them against yours then pulls back looking you in the eyes as if asking millions of questions. His hand reaches up to push part of your hair that was covering your eyes behind your ear, as you feel his hand by the side of your face you feel the desire to lean into it.

“I…” You start but trial off, “Perhaps…” you try again, “Perhaps it wasn’t all acting” you mutter

A cocky smile creeps onto Zemo’s mouth as he looks at you, “I thought not”

“Oh shut up and kiss me” you angrily reply and Zemo doesn’t hesitate to give you what you ask. His lips crash onto yours as his hands wrap around your legs, lifting them making you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer to you. You grab the fur parts of his coat but he grasps your wrists in one hand and raises them above you. His lips move all over you hungrily before leaving and trailing down your jawline and onto your neck. He tugs on a bit of your skin and sucks on it causing you to mewl in pleasure.

“Y/N!? ZEMO!?” you hear Sam shouting in the distance

Zemo sighs pulling away from your neck, “It seems our private time together is over little one”

Gently he places you back on the ground, taking your hand rubbing his thumb over the back of it, and guides you over to where Sam and Bucky were trying to find you two.

[evita-shelby]

Nothing More Difficult than Love

Chapter 9

Taglist: @whitejuliana1204 @lovemesevesey @livelifewondering

Gif by @chimestims

“I'll confess.” He said once they sat on the church bench. “I need someone. Kimber has an adviser by the name of Roberts. He talks well. Keeps the accounts. Runs the legal side of the business.”

“And you need a Roberts?” she asked as if she hadn’t expected him to ask her to work for him. “I’m not an accountant nor a lawyer.”

Not a very good actress, Eva’s voice says in his mind.

“No. No, but you have something I need.” He paused deliberately. “Class. I need someone who looks right at the big meetings. Epsom, Ascot.”

“Won’t the soon to be Mrs. Shelby mind?” there is a tinge of jealousy and anger in the way she said it.

“She’ll come around. She knows I’ll need a secretary if she wants me to help her run our businesses.” He answers, leaving out the part where Eva will be doing the bulwark of it and Tiago would be her superior. The professional spy and assassin did have a business degree after all.

“You know that most of what I do is illegal?” He asked her.

“I'm not blind.” She said in response.

“And yet you'd still be willing to work for me?” he asked her

“Are you offering me the job?” she was genuinely surprised and the said the only part that mattered. “Then I accept.”

“There's something else you should know. A very important detail about my reasons for employing you.” He brushed her blonde hair as he cupped her cheek and kissed her.

“You don’t have to marry her.” Grace said softly.

He had expected her to bring it up.

“I gave her my word. A broken engagement is a serious thing.” He pretended that was the reason he refused to back down. “Her family has lawyers and assassins in it, they aren’t people we want as enemies.”

There was something there. It wasn’t strong enough yet, but it would get there. Worst of all, there was no one else who understood him like she did.

There was something with Grace too. He knew she was a liar, but something felt real underneath all the lies.

Thomas was at a crossroads; one he had a feeling he’ll be standing in even after he marries Eva tomorrow.

----

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He whispers when he lifts the lace veil over her face.

“I didn’t think you’d come either.” She admitted sheepishly. Eva pretends she didn’t scream into her pillow the night before when she saw him kissing Grace in the church.

Funny, wasn’t it? They had shown up, wearing their wedding clothes and afraid that they would be left at the altar by the other.

She loves him, she thinks.

It was impossible not to feel things for him, but love doesn’t happen the same for everyone.

With Antonia, Eva had realized it when they both got drunk on stolen red wine in the linen closet in the Mexico City townhouse and she tasted love on her friend’s lips.

With Diosdado, it was when he showed up with a silver filly from his raid on the famous King’s Ranch.

With Tommy, it was seeing him kiss another woman and feeling her heart break in pieces as she silently walked away.

He wore a red rose boutonniere she had made for him; she wore the sixpence minted in 1896 he and Finn had spent three weeks looking for in her left shoe.

Eva never thought she’d be getting married.

Sure, she used to when she was a girl, but then everything went to shit in 1913 and Eva’s biggest priority was making it to the end of the week alive.

Back then she’d dreamed of marrying for love like her parents had done. Now she had been disabused of the notion that weddings were nothing more than elaborate business transactions.

The ceremony was small, just friends and family, but the party would have most of Small Heath in attendance. As much as people feared them, they wouldn’t miss a party with free drinks nor risk the ire of the Shelbys.

Which meant Grace would be here.

She is wearing the red ensemble she got for the races and Eva feels like a bull seeing the red muleta of a matador.

Eva hates her now. Hates how she looks at Tommy and hates that Tommy has continued to string the blonde bitch along.

“You look beautiful, Mrs. Shelby.” There is so much in that title, you can barely hear it in her voice, but Eva can feel it in the air, like lightning before a storm.

“Thank you, Miss. Burgess. Are you enjoying the party?” Eva’s looked soft and sweet and innocent in silk lace whiter than fresh snow. Made people wonder how such a sweet girl found herself married to man like Tommy Shelby.

Most of it was an act.

Don’t get her wrong, Eva chose to be good, but she could be bad. So bad you’d wonder who the fuck she was.

Grace looked at Tommy as he laughed and drank with his brothers.

“It’s unlike any I’ve ever been.” She said diplomatically.

“Never fancied yourself in love with the groom before, eh?” Eva asked with a smirk and a sip of whiskey. She shouldn’t drink too much, she’ll lose control and then kill whatever they have in it’s cradle.

“I’m just his secretary.” The blonde woman had the decency to look embarrassed, her blue eyes darting to see if she could summon Tommy to her rescue.

“Barmaid, secretary, whore. All three are pretty interchangeable these days.” The dark-haired witch let her forked tongue show.

“I’m not a whore.” The blonde bristled; Eva always enjoyed this game.

“Oh, right, whores get paid for their services. My mistake.” Did it make her a terrible person for enjoying it?

“He doesn’t love you.” Terrible thing to say to a bride at the wedding, don’t you think?

“Love takes time, Burgess. It will come. I’ve seen it. Four children, a house in the country and you barely a footnote in his past.” Eva traced the rim of her glass with her ring finger.

She swallowed, angry.

Good. The witch smiled when the blonde left in a huff.

Polly comes with a worried look, no doubt she’s seen John and Lizzie acting to friendly with each other.

She didn’t notice the strange fascination the prostitute had for Tiago who regaled them with tales that could get them all killed.

But they wouldn’t tell, everyone knew not to speak about it.

“He’s not one for subtlety, isn’t he?” Eva asked the older woman.

“I doubt John knows what it means. He wants to marry her. Makes comments about how she’s no longer taking clients and that she’s got herself into a course for finishing up her secondary education.” Polly eyes them like a hawk.

“Won’t work out, hopefully it will fall apart without them getting too hurt. Heartbreak is always a bitch.” Eva nudged her slightly so she noticed Tiago and Lizzie being more friendly than Tiago and John were being.

“You should worry about your cousin too.” Polly said with a wince.

“He shows up more in her readings than John does. My family won’t judge her.” Eva explained. “They might make her their pet project and make a high society lady out of her, but they’ll be happy just to know Tiago’s name won’t die with him.”

“Better happen soon before he or the children get to attached.” Polly drank her whiskey straight from the bottle.

“Don’t worry about it, what the universe wants the universe gets.” She said with a chuckle.

“You’ve seen it then. Is that why he keeps saying ‘marry in September’s shrine, your living will be rich and fine’ lately?” Polly said bemused.

“Yes, he’ll marry in September, just not to Lizzie.” Eva nodded. “Tommy might be the reason it happens, though.”

“Who will she be?” Polly asked looking at Tommy ask his brother why she was there with a look.

“Esme Lee, she’ll give him three more children and be a hell of a mother to all seven.” Eva says quietly and changed the topic when she noticed her groom coming towards them.

“Never asked you if you could dance, I hope you don’t mind me asking now.” He had his hand outstretched, and Eva wanted nothing more than to leave it like that.

“I'm a great dancer, Tom.” Eva giggled and took his hand, bad omen if the bride refused to dance with the groom. “I’m surprised you didn’t make the connection between dancing and ballet.”

“The guns were moved away from your warehouse; Grace took the bait.” Tommy tells her as they dance for the first time as husband and wife.

“You didn’t have to kiss her when you offered her the job.” She pointed out. Letting him see that it hurt her.

“If I don’t string her along, she will string along Arthur. Arthur would fuck everything up.” He justified himself.

No man would tell his wife he has feelings for a secondary woman, but really, they weren’t a normal couple. Normal couples don’t marry because they agreed to split the money and fuck long enough to produce a child to inherit said money.

Tommy pulled her close, tight against him with his cheek pressed against hers. “Don't want anyone who isn’t you, Evie.”

Her little gasp could be interpreted as surprise for him doing that, not surprise that what he just said is a lie.

[seijorhi]

Reminiscent

i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw

“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”

You weren’t the clubbing type.

Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you. 

“She good, dude?”

A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”

And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.

Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.

A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you. 

“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”

They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.

You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.

Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop. 

Please stop. Please. Please. Please.

You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.

Why won’t he stop?

When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.

And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.

—

It’s nothing like what they show on tv.

There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.

You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.

At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes. 

Or worse; pitying ones.

So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy. 

The nightmares are just that; nightmares.

And things are fine, until they’re not.

—

“Baby, you’re here!!”

There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.

When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”

She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.

She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.

For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.

“Oh, wait–”

Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.

“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”

She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.

And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”

The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”

She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.

So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”

She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”

And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.

She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.

She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him. 

It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before. 

Happy. 

She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.

And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.

The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s  shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.

You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.

“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.

Not when you still feel all… brittle. 

—

Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement. 

She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.

Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you. 

Your heart stutters.

“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.

He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”

You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.” 

There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.

He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you. 

“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”

You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”

“We’re celebrating?” you ask.

She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, “Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”

Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”

Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.

You can handle one night of small talk.

—

You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.  

Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.

Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.

They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.

“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.

Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.

“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”

“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”

You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”

And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes. 

 Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”

The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”

If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground. 

“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath. 

Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–

“Iwa.”

It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.

“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–

“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”

His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.

And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.

“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”

You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”

His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but… 

You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–

You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin. 

“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”

You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.

“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.” 

He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”

And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free. 

It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.

The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.

Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit. 

“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.

Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”

“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”

Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.

You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.

And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–

Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth. 

“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”

And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”

Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”

Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”

His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.

“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”

Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen. 

And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.

The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come. 

You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion. 

You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.

And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.

“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”

Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.

It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.

Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–” 

You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you. 

Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.

“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.

And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.

Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips… 

“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”

It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it… 

But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him. 

With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.

“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.

His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.

Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.

And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.

“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”

[ilikekidsshows]

Hi! I loved the Adrinette analysis you made...do you think you could make a similar one for Ladybug and Chat Noir over seasons 1 to 3?

I knew I was leaving myself open for this ask, and I kinda dreaded it, because 80% of Ladynoir screen time is dedicated to defeating an Akuma, meaning the characters have something else to focus on rather than progressing their relationship, and most the relationship stuff is just Marinette being really stubborn and refusing to properly look at her partner. In other words, there's significantly more screen time, but also proportionally less stuff going on in Ladynoir than in Adrinette because the characters are superheroes on the job and one party is actively resisting any development happening. It's also a very different kind of arc and relationship to Adrinette where the goal is just the two of them getting closer and more comfortable with each other. Ladynoir has that as well as all the trust issues and superhero team dynamics. Basically, this post is definitive proof that Miraculous has had plot development before season four, and it has had a lot of it. I got almost dizzy with it while compiling this.

Once again, I’m trying to go in a somewhat chronological order to properly track the relationship.

In 'Origins', we only get one-sided Ladynoir stuff. Marinette is new on the job and completely focused on solving the Akuma problem and nothing else. Meanwhile, Adrien actually takes note of his partner. He sees her flounder but ultimately put together a clever plan. He sees her lose faith but ultimately pick herself up and deliver a really badass speech at Hawk Moth. It's really no wonder he fell in love. The number one thing he learned about Ladybug is that she can fail and the second thing was that she could pick herself up again and grab the win anyway. I've brought up earlier in the Top Adrinette Scene discussion that Adrien is very scared of failing, because his father does not forgive failure, so Ladybug being someone who can turn a failure into a win understandably makes his heart go pitter-patter.

Meanwhile, Marinette barely noticed her partner. As I said, she was fully focused on solving the problem, but she was also getting distracted by her own insecurities. Marinette's first experience with Cat Noir was that he was kinda smooth and seemed to be much more confident than Marinette. Her second experience was that he tended to leap before he looked, but was perfectly willing to listen to her say-so. We have a very brief attempt at flirtation from Cat Noir, that Ladybug barely seems to even notice.

In 'Bubbler', Cat Noir actually gets to flirt with his Lady. He's clearly intent on getting her to notice what he's getting at, but Ladybug seems mostly exasperated with him. At this point their partnership is new and Marinette is most likely thinking back to their first case, when Cat Noir was so patient and supportive and not this...much. She still doesn't tell him to quit it, though, meaning she’s trying to accept him being a lot.

'Stormy Weather' has Cat Noir continuing in his attempts to get Ladybug to notice him and this time she responds playfully when they're not right in the middle of a tense situation. She's getting used to this being Cat's way of interacting with her and keeping the mood light.

'Lady Wifi' has the pair discussing the secrecy between them, with Adrien actively making the decision that honoring Ladybug's wishes concerning keeping their secret identities is more important than knowing the identity of the girl he's in love with, that doing so is the proper way to love her. 'Lady Wifi' is also the first time Marinette panics at the idea of something romantic being suggested about her and Cat Noir, when Alya says Adrien might be Cat Noir, that Cat Noir might be the boy she's repeatedly told Alya she's in love with.

'Copycat' shows us for a fact that Ladybug has no idea that Cat Noir's flirtations with her are genuine, and Cat Noir is growing tired of his feelings going entirely unnoticed.

Because of his growing frustration over not being able to communicate his feelings to Ladybug in a manner that she'd take seriously, Adrien goes the extra mile to write her a love poem in 'Dark Cupid'. When he receives a response that appeared with no sender, just a ladybug, he entertains the thought that Ladybug answered his poem and does in fact return his feelings (not realizing that Ladybug would need to know his identity to deliver such a note to him specifically, but Adrien does generally worry less about secret identities than Marinette). 'Dark Cupid' is also the first occasion of Marinette's by-now patented plan "Pretend to be in Love with Cat Noir" to solve problems, except that she was absolutely certain that a True Love's Kiss could occur between them, so there isn't even much room for pretending, but Marinette's denial is so powerful, she'll try.

In 'The Mime' we see Cat Noir actually testing Ladybug's receptiveness to a date, by suggesting that they could have gone to the play together if they didn't have to detransform. Ladybug replies that she has other plans before zipping away, and Cat Noir merely smiles after her. His feelings are growing, and he might still be remembering the love note he got. In fact, this is probably why he says "We are meant to be," in 'Gamer'.

In 'Animan' Ladybug actually does some of her own flirting with Cat Noir by giving him chin scritches. We also see a very straightforward gesture of affection from Cat Noir to Ladybug, when he hugs her in relief after the battle. Ladybug smiles softly at him, seeing that her partner cares about her well-being, while Cat Noir jumps back, embarrassed over his own reaction, or perhaps even afraid of censure. Adrien isn't the type of person to suddenly grab people in a hug, most likely because such "overly emotional" displays are discouraged in the Agreste household. This is the first occasion of Adrien projecting his father's supposed reaction to a thing he does on Ladybug, so he runs away from her.

In 'Simon Says', Cat Noir clings to Ladybug when faced with Gabriel looking at him weirdly (he's trying to figure out if he's Adrien, but Adrien himself never realizes his father was suspicious of his identity). At this point, Ladybug has started to become something of a security symbol to Adrien specifically against his father.

'Reflekta' is the episode where Cat Noir reminds Ladybug that he doesn't just deliver quips and he is actually a hero in his own right, even with diminished capabilities, in response to Marinette almost leaving him behind because he couldn't use his Cat Noir powers, because he'd "just slow (her) down", and then it turns out she couldn't have won without him. However, with the scene of Cat Noir taking the hit, Ladybug also starts on the process of realizing exactly how important her partner is to her success. Noticeably, it's while they're plotting together that Ladybug responds to his flirtation by flirting back, even if not very well (protip, Marinette, demeaning someone isn't funny to anyone but the person doing the demeaning, the other person is not suddenly lacking a sense of humor). Cat Noir is also a bit softer with his overtures in this episode, his cheeky flirtation gaining a bit more intimacy.

In 'Antibug', we can see the lessons Ladybug learned in 'Reflekta' sticking, with Ladybug listening to and valuing Cat Noir's input, unlike how the last time he tried to give her advice in a Chloé situation in 'Evillustrator', when she acknowledged he was right but couldn't bring herself to follow his advice. She also flirts with Cat Noir of her own volition, when she rings his bell. Cat Noir also keeps showing genuine warmth towards Ladybug instead of being just cheeky, when Ladybug compliments him. They affirm their bond after taking down Antibug.

The events of 'Reflekta' and 'Antibug' together influence what happens in 'Volpina', where Marinette is very suspicious of a new superhero showing up, without ever suspecting she could have been an Akuma in disguise. Cat Noir is her partner, and Cat Noir is her only partner. She’s not only learned his value, but has grown possessive over him. There's no need for any outsider. This jealousy over Cat Noir is actually something Marinette doesn't get over during the first three seasons the way she learns to deal with her jealousy over Adrien.

By the time 'The Collector' happens, Adrien has developed enough trust in his partner to ultimately believe her over her suspicions about Gabriel being Hawk Moth. This episode also has the first time Marinette voices concern over Cat Noir's emotional well-being instead of merely physical, who, of course, can't tell her what's wrong because it would break the secret identity clause.

'Prime Queen' has some very nice mutual Ladynoir flirting at the start of the interview. However, they're both mortified when Nadja comes out with the pictures. Cat Noir is confused, because he had no idea that their relationship could even give that impression, he must have been feeling like he hasn't been making much progress in getting closer to Ladybug. Meanwhile, Marinette goes defensive for the first time since 'Lady Wifi' only, this time, even more so. She even runs out on Cat Noir when he, very understandably, wants an explanation why he head to learn from a reporter that she'd planted one on him instead of from her. The episode confirms that Marinette will refuse to, in any way, discuss anything romance-related in relation to Cat Noir, even when there's an innocent explanation, like breaking an Akuma's spell. She's so defensive it's suspicious.

We also have another occasion of Marinette "pretending" to be in love with Cat Noir to solve a problem. While Cat Noir purrs either over the confession, having her close, or both. Marinette also jumped at the chance to "pretend" to confess her love so eagerly, that it left Prime Queen unimpressed. Still, Marinette refused to commit to the "ruse" enough to kiss Cat Noir while he's actually conscious and aware of it, because then she'd have to deal with the aftermath of kissing him.

'Dark Owl' has the first true test of faith between Ladybug and Cat Noir, when both of them have to trust the other not to look while they have to recharge. Although, considering 'The Collector', this is actually the first test only for Ladybug. At the end of the episode, Adrien also genuinely asks Ladybug out on a date for the very first time when they unexpectedly have free time from Owl-sitting, but Marinette preferred to skip off to spend time with Alya since she hadn’t gotten to see her while being so busy with The Owl's antics for so long.

'Glaciator' has Cat Noir planning an actual outing for Ladybug. The thing is, before 'Glaciator', Marinette's response to Cat Noir asking her out has always been that she has other plans, no can do. However, in 'Glaciator', she specifically says: "We'll see," and then she ends up ghosting him because she forgot to even send him a message that she didn't feel like going anywhere. At the same time, Gabriel purposefully stands him up for dinner, causing Adrien to project onto the Ladybug situation so hard that he doesn't think Ladybug even sees him as a real friend. Considering Adrien was under the same impression about Marinette in 'Puppeteer 2', it is typical for Marinette to send these kinds of mixed signals (which is fitting, considering how clear communication seems to be the biggest bullet point in her character development agenda).

On the upside, Cat Noir's compromised emotional state led to him being more frank about his feelings to first Marinette and later to Ladybug, finally making Marinette understand that Cat Noir is actually in love with her and how sensitive her partner can really be and that she can hurt his feelings. Notably, in this episode, Marinette particularly enjoys employing her "Pretend to be in love with Cat Noir" gambit, this time even going as far as kissing him, after finding out he's actually in love with her. Indeed, at the end of the episode, her rejection to Cat Noir is entirely focused on her having feelings for someone else (as well). She never once said she doesn't love him, and, in fact, never claims so in the English dub.

In 'Sapotis' we also see a brief glimpse of Marinette's jealousy over Cat Noir when he welcomes Alya onto the team so warmly but, because Rena Rouge was a teammate Marinette herself chose and trusts, she doesn't feel threatened enough to express it more than by merely keeping an eye on their interaction. 'Sapotis' also starts the arc of Cat Noir starting to lose faith in Ladybug having his best interest in mind when Rena Rouge appears out of nowhere and he's expected to just accept that no-questions-asked.

'Gorizilla' notably has Marinette repeatedly voicing her belief that Cat Noir will show up, something Adrien appreciates a great deal, going as far as blushing over something so simple. He's astounded by the fact that his Lady has faith in him, but it seems he still believes it despite the notion being strange to him.

'Frightningale' really drives home the arc going on in this season. 'Riposte' was the first time we saw Ladybug and Cat Noir seamlessly working together to neutralize an Akuma, but in this episode, they move in perfect synch while fighting Frightningale while handcuffed together. Cat Noir and Ladybug's teamwork has reached phenomenal levels.

I've repeatedly said that 'Syren' is less about Cat Noir and Ladybug's relationship and more about Fu's relationships with his two chosen. Still, this is the episode where Marinette gets put on the spot and comes through for her partner and Cat Noir learns that Ladybug keeping secrets from him wasn't of her own volition, but because of Fu, restoring his faith in her completely.

It's most likely because of the trust Ladybug showed towards him in 'Gorizilla' and their perfectly synchronized teamwork in 'Frightningale' that Cat Noir tries to confess to Ladybug again in 'Frozer'. These two episodes could give Cat Noir hope that he might be winning Ladybug over, especially since, as I said before, Ladybug has not said she doesn't have feelings for him. But she, of course, rejects him, although it's notably with more wistfulness than the last time, especially when she comments how she doesn't think it's possible for the "other boy" to not be a concern. 'Frozer' takes place during the arc in season two that covers Marinette's growing frustration at her inability to progress with Adrien the way she wants to and the discontent shows in her interaction with Cat Noir as well.

The change in how Marinette regards Cat Noir's input in fights between season one and two is especially noticeable in 'Style Queen' and 'Maledictator'. Both times Cat Noir is absent in a fight and this influences how Marinette approaches fighting the Akumas. In 'Style Queen' Marinette tries to play it sneaky but also needs to be saved by Plagg's intervention in his holder's absence. In 'Maledictator', Marinette's plan involved siccing the brainwashed Cat Noir on the Akuma's goons. Cat Noir has become necessary to Marinette, which is why he's able to galvanize her during 'Heroes' Day' by reminding her that the two of them against the world is what's always worked.

Season three as a whole revolves around Adrien losing faith that Ladybug could ever return his feelings the way he wishes and Marinette getting several warning signs about how she could lose Cat Noir. I might even go as far as saying that this season has negative Ladynoir development (in that their relationship grows more frayed and brittle instead of stronger).

A big reason for this new development direction is 'Reflekdoll', which, according to the production codes, happens early in the season. In this episode, Ladybug and Cat Noir learn the worst possible (false) lessons about themselves and each other and they carry those lessons for the rest of the season. In my 'Reflekdoll' conflict analysis, I wrote that Ladybug basically "learns" that Cat Noir is fae-like in that he isn't bothered by mortal things like stress or heartbreak. Cat Noir, meanwhile, "learns" that, while it doesn't matter if Ladybug makes a mistake because she can always fix it, him making a mistake makes him fundamentally less worthy as a hero and a person, so he could never be as valuable as Ladybug even as a person and not only strategically.

'Weredad', meanwhile, is the quintessential evidence episode for Marinette being both possessive and in denial about Cat Noir. She's literally pretending to be in love with him to him, while totally denying to herself that she feels anything for him, all the while she's feeling jealous over him seemingly moving on from her to be in love with her. The reason it's so important that no one but Marinette herself and Tikki know what went down in this episode is that Marinette's denial would never last if someone actually questioned this whole mess.

This is also an episode where we can clearly see the aftermath of what 'Reflekdoll' did to Cat Noir. He's once again projecting his situation with his father onto someone else (this time Tom), but he's also blatantly refusing to fight Tom at full strength, because he feels that it's his fault he got Akumatized, allowing himself to get hurt severely because he feels he's not that important, that he might even deserve it.

'Oblivio' has Ladybug once again do the whole: "How dare you say I'm in love with Cat Noir I am quitting this conversation right now!" routine. Cat Noir also got actual confirmation that something about him made his Lady want to kiss him when their memories had been wiped.

'Desperada' has the semi-infamous scene of Ladybug saying she doesn't need Cat Noir and, while she learns the valuable lesson that yes she flipping does, this is also the episode where Adrien repeatedly fails to use the Snake Miraculous correctly, having to give it up to someone else, feeling like an undeserving failure *turns to look at 'Weredad' and then at ‘Reflekdoll*.

'Kwamibuster' is an episode where everyone keeps telling Ladybug not to trust Cat Noir and she believes it to the degree that she sees him as a bigger threat than a Kwami-targeting Akuma. In other words, Cat Noir being treated like a part-time hero again in season four is because of 'Kwamibuster'.

'Gamer 2.0' is actually an important episode for the Ladynoir dynamic. This is the episode where Marinette takes on way too much responsibility (voluntarily) and is really stressed about it, while Cat Noir dismantles that stress with his good humor and positive outlook. This episode enforces the lesson that was stated outright in 'Reflekdoll': "Everyone has their role", and Cat Noir's role is to be the jokester who makes Ladybug feel better. Also, Cat Noir doesn’t even hesitate to make a sacrifice play for his Lady, because he’s less important.

'Timetagger' foreshadows that Marinette's words of affirmation are losing their effect. She repeatedly says things like "I trust Cat Noir", "You're irreplaceable", "You know you're the best", but she doesn't know how to express her regard to Cat Noir in actions. And it's important to note that Adrien was raised among liars and manipulators. Even if he doesn't doubt Ladybug's intentions, he might doubt the depth and truth of her feelings for him. Because Ladybug is so nice, she might lie about valuing him to make him feel better. Words aren't enough when words are the only thing between you and your insecurities. This is also an episode that feeds into Cat Noir's worthlessness arc, with Bunnyx repeatedly insisting that Ladybug in the future is just awesome, while Cat Noir broke her Miraculous. Even Ladybug shoots him down at the end of the episode when he tries to ask for extra affirmation, claiming he "already knows he's great".

In 'Puppeteer 2', Cat Noir's hope from 'Oblivio' that Ladybug might be starting to be won over by him comes back to bite him when the wax Ladybug gets close to him by pretending to be coming onto him. He only realized she was a fake because she smelled wrong, something that comes back to haunt him in 'Ladybug', when he's faced with a perfect copy, whose only difference to the original is that she's apparently in love with him. The villains clearly know he’s so in love with Ladybug it sometimes blinds him.

With the villains using this clear weakness as an in, it's no wonder that Cat Noir finally makes the decision to move on from Ladybug in 'Heart Hunter'. He tries one more time to test her interest to see if she'd be jealous of him dating and, when she's merely overjoyed, he decides to finally move on to Kagami. However, when faced with the actual reality of Cat Noir giving his attention to someone else instead of her (instead of in addition to her), Ladybug actually finds herself hurt and questions the lack of "My Lady" in Cat Noir addressing her, but she instantly denies it when Cat Noir notices. Denial denial denial...

Aaaaaand that's a wrap! Putting this together made me realize just how interconnected the show really is but no one notices because there aren’t any secret identities being revealed, people getting together or lore being revealed. Even something that seems like a breather episode like 'Gamer 2.0' has a larger role in the arc of developing the relationship between our main heroes.

[angstysebfan]

The Past Can Break You - 5

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: implied smut, angst is back

--

The next 2 weeks were amazing. Bucky really turned everything around and showed you that he was committed to you. It made you feel so much better. While you felt bad that he now completely avoided Dot, because she is still out of place, you didn’t feel that bad because you knew she was bad news. Whenever she saw you and Bucky together she would scoff and glare at you. It made you uncomfortable.

One day the whole Avengers team was called into a meeting to discuss an upcoming mission. Per Steve and Tony, everyone, except you, were needed. You didn’t like the thought of staying behind with Dot in the compound, but you were a team player, and wouldn’t argue. Bucky on the other hand let Steve have it with both barrels.

“Steve you know the situation with Dot. Can’t someone else stay behind?” he said to Steve.

Steve sighed, “Yes, I know this will be difficult, but everyone else is needed for their skill. Y/N’s skills aren’t needed on this mission. She agreed, so why are you fighting me on this?” Steve argued back.

“Of course Y/N won’t fight this, but I am trying to protect her from Dot. You remember how vicious Dot can be, and I don’t want her to upset Y/N when we just started to get back on track,” Bucky said.

“Look Buck, I get it. I do. But this is how it is. The compound is big enough that Y/N won’t need to be anywhere near Dot. By the way, when are you going to tell her that she needs to start looking for employment and another living situation. She makes everyone uncomfortable. Even Tony is starting to get annoyed at all her questions about FRIDAY, and he loves showing people how smart he is,” Steve asked.

“I-I don’t know. I mean I know I have to do it, especially after what she’s pulled, but I still feel bad for her. I mean she didn’t ask for this to happen, and doesn’t deserve to be thrown out on her ass, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I’ll talk to Y/N about it and see if she has any ideas. Maybe if we help setting her up I will feel better about it,” Bucky said.

“Yea, I know. Let me know if you need help. But we gotta get packed and head to the quinjet. And please don’t worry about Y/N. Your girl is strong, and she knows how Dot is. She will be fine. Besides, we are only gone for like 24 hours, what could happen?” Steve asked.

Bucky didn’t respond and watched as Steve walked out of the meeting room. He ran his hands through his hair, what could happen? He hoped nothing, but he didn’t trust Dot. It’s funny the way she is acting now didn’t bother him when he was in the 40s, but now, because of you, he sees that she is not as great as he thought.

Bucky sighs and heads to your shared room to find you packing his bag for him. He smiles as he walks in, “Hey baby,” he says.

You look up at him and give him a bashful smile, “Figured I would help you out,” you said.

Bucky walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. He looks into your eyes, and all you see is love and admiration in them. He leans in and connects his soft lips with yours. After a moment he deepens the kiss and you feel his tongue on your lower lip. You open you mouth in response, allowing him full access. When the need to breath becomes too great you pull away, panting.

“You’re only going to be gone a day,” you say with a chuckle.

Bucky also laughs, “Will you be ok? Here? With... her?” he asks.

You brush your hand through his soft hair, “Yea. I’ll stay clear of her as much as I can. But I’ll be ok,” you say.

Bucky pecks your lips again. “When I come home, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” he asks.

You look at him with confusion, “Like what?” you ask.

“I think it’s time for Dot to go off on her own, but I don’t want to just kick her out and make her fend for herself. I was thinking you could help me find her a job and a place to live? I would just feel better if I know I wasn’t kicking her out with nowhere to go,” he asks.

You smile and nod, “Sure. I’ll be glad to help. I’ll start while you’re gone,” you say. 

Bucky kisses you one more time, “I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you, Doll,” he says.

“I love you too, Buck.”

--

You have to say you are surprised when you find yourself not running into Dot at all. It’s almost like she doesn’t want to be near you either, which is fine. She has spent most of the last 24 hours in the lab, while you stayed in your room looking up possible jobs and apartment for her. 

You thought it was nice of Bucky to at least help set her up and not throw her to the wolves. It was something you admired about Bucky, his big heart. You both have been texting before the mission, but since then you haven’t heard from him. You hope everything is ok. 

“FRIDAY, any update on the team?” you ask the AI.

“No agent, I’m sorry,” she responds.

You decide to take a nap in hopes that when you wake up your boyfriend will be home. You want your family home safe and sound.

--

You woke up to the sounds of the team in the hallway. You walk out and see Nat and Wanda and hug them hello. You head toward the common room hoping to see the guys, but don’t. You walk back toward the elevator and heard something from Dot’s room.

“Oh Dot, I’ve missed you so much, Doll,” you hear Bucky moan.

You gasp in horror as you continue listening to Dot moan and beg for Bucky to go harder. You can’t help the tears that begin to fall as you hear your boyfriend and his ex having sex.

“So good baby, you’re so good. Taking me so well, you feel amazing. No one is like you, I love you so much,” Bucky moaned.

You’ve heard enough and turn, running back to your shared room. You can’t be near him when he comes in pretending he didn’t just fuck his ex. Your heart is in a million pieces as his voice continues to play in your head. All you hear is her and his moans and his words. He loves her. It will always be her. Maybe you just need to learn to accept that.

--

“Buck, I think you should have told Y/N you got hurt. She is going to be worried about you,” Steve scolded.

“Look, I know my girl. She will be mad at first, but then she will nurse me back to health. I will have to convince her to ride me later, but it will be so worth it,” Bucky says with a smirk as the doctor continues to pull out shards of shrapnel from his side.

“Seriously man? TMI!” Sam complained before leaving Medbay.

Bucky laughed and then hissed as the doctor pulled another shard out. “How much longer? I don’t want Y/N to think I’m dead if she knows we are back,” Bucky asked the doctor.

“One more piece... and....” she pulls the large piece out, “There! Now I will quickly clean and bandage. no stitches cause you will heal fast, but please no sex tonight. You might bleed all over her,” the doctor said with a glare.

Bucky and Steve laugh. “Oh I talked to Y/N about helping me out with Dot and she agreed. I figured it was best to have her involved with that situation from now on,” Bucky says to Steve as the doctor cleans and bandages his side.

“Good idea, less messy that way. I hope everything went well here with the 2 of them,” Steve says.

“I’ll find out,” Bucky says as he puts his shirt on. 

Both men walk to the elevator and head to their floor. They say their goodbyes in the hall as Bucky opens the door to your shared apartment. You aren’t in there, which confuses him, but he figures maybe you went to the kitchen.

When he walks into the bathroom he senses something is wrong. None of your toiletries are there. It was different from when you cleaned, plus his was still there. He walks back out to your room and sees that everything on your nightstand is gone too. Now he starts to panic as he goes to the closet and sees that all your clothes are gone. He tries to not have a panic attack because that will slow him down. He goes to head to the door and sees a piece of paper on the floor:

Bucky,

I guess I’m the stupid one. I’m stupid to think that everything you said to me was true. I was stupid to think that I could compete with your one true love. I was stupid to think that you really loved me. Well I won’t be stupid anymore. No need to lie and say what I heard isn’t true. I hope you and Dot are very happy together in your new apartment, but I’m done. Have a nice life.

Bucky dropped the letter and fell to his knees as tears pool down his cheeks. What the hell happened that you up and left him? You are angry with him, and he doesn’t understand why. He allows himself to cry for a moment before rereading it.

Dot.

--

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

Oh Dot you dirty bitch! Feedback is appreciated.

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PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYONE!

[zukuist]

in the moment [hcs]

“they are desperate for help when admirers swarm them, and they choose to seek for your assistance”

fandom/s : 僕のヘロアカデミア // boku no hero academia (bnha)

includes: h. shinsō, k. bakugō, i. midoriya

your name is shortened to y/n, last name is shortened to l/n gender neutral, use of the pretend lover trope, they’re actually pining.

further note: yes i’ve been gone for more than a week, and yes it’s because of school. i promise i’ll be posting more!!

REQUESTS ;; OPEN !!

© IZUKULIE 2021, HORIKOSHI KOHEI OWNS BNHA, DO NOT STEAL ❕

—

shinsō hitoshi

finds it super annoying

and this is coming from him, someone that’s not easy to irritate

he’s conscious and aware that people find him attractive (which for some reason, he still questions why)

eventually, admirers are bound to appear like it or not, but they’re not this insistent as this girl, nope.

shinsō has never experienced something like this, in his entire life.

noriko was a familiar face, but not in the best way for shinsō hitoshi.

she used to be one of those girls that’d band wagon with her opinions. whenever people were hostile towards him

she would be hostile too

but as soon as everyone started finding him attractive, she’d change too.

and it’s.. a mess. what more when he himself is pining on someone that’s not noriko

let alone, a student from class 1-A?

and it’s not like he could brainwash her into leaving him alone

as soon as she would be released by his quirk, she’d tell everyone what he did. therefore, leaving that out of the many solutions

and now he’s backed up into a corner, with her chasing him all across the hallways.

he can only hope for a solution.

— scene —

“this is ridiculous..” taking another turn in the hallway, shinsō mutters to himself quietly, the sleep deprived student can still hear her shrill voice

and by ‘her’, he’s referring to the admirer that has been tailing him down ever since the day had started.

“there are times like this where i wished i didn’t care about looking villainous” is what he’s really thinking. damn quirk stereotypes, and curse him for not having a quirk like iida tenya

“what.. are you doing?” was he lucky, or unlucky? it just so happened to be that he bumped into y/n l/n, out of all people

“i’m in a bit of a situation,” his palm rests against his nape, and he has to hope that you get the message, when noriko’s nearly deafening voice cuts through the air

“you’re quite popular with the ladies, huh?” you joke, and shinsō would’ve laughed if he wasn’t being trailed down.

“as much as i—”

“there you are !” noriko exclaims, slightly out of breath from the insistent chase, “you still haven’t answered !”

“i have, and i said no.” he makes his intentions concrete, compared to earlier (which was a mistake) when he rejected her in the nicest way he could’ve done so, but it wasn’t enough to make her quit.

“well earlier, you’ve said you appreciated it !” the whine pains both of your ears, and you contemplate if you should just grab his hand, and make a run for it.

but, she’d just chase you down again. so maybe not.

“yes, but i also said i can’t accept your feelings.” in instinct, he backs up so he could stand next to you, and he looks at you with his own style of desperation, which was obviously different than noriko’s desperation.

“i happen to be taken.” shinsō claims, hooking his hand along yours. which might’ve been done because he’s desperate, but could’ve been done because he wanted to

getting the motive, you lock away your shock, and play along, accepting his touch.

“i don’t believe you.” noriko blurts, “you two look like best friends more than anything. i’m not stupid !”

you didn’t think it would have to resort to this.

with not much of a thought, you grabbed shinsō by the collar, and smashed your lips together. his lips are warmer than you’ve anticipated, the distinct taste of coffee makes you lean into him further. while at first taken aback, shinsō decides to accept the act by pushing you even closer to him

you let go, deciding it was enough, and when you stare back at noriko, tears dotting at her waterline, and she sputters in humiliation and rejection.

“i never liked you anyway !” she uses as a defense, before storming off. the both of you feel a sense of relief when her figure turns at the end of the hallway

“sorry for kissing you like that. it was kind of in the moment,”

shinsō chuckles, “didn’t expect our first kiss to be like that.”

“well, there are more opportunities to come for you, you’re quite popular.” you tease, and shinsō flicks your forehead in retaliation. in return, you hiss at the sudden sting of pain.

“we’ll have more opportunities when i take you out for lunch on saturday.” he pats you on the shoulder, before he presses a quick real kiss on your cheekbone.

bakugō katsuki

also finds it super annoying. actually, he might as well just fight them and move on.

bakugō knows it well that he’s.. well-known, for all the right and wrong reasons

but what he doesn’t know is that he’s also known for his good looks, rough and boyish in nature.

so eventually, there’ll be that one brave and fearless soul that’ll take one for the team. or even two, or three.

he hates it. doesn’t his aura and demeanor alone scare off all of the suitors?

since when were they super persistent, smh.

it didn’t help that he was trying to drown and suffocate his feelings down the pipeline.

because curse bakugō katsuki for having normal, teenage feelings. he had other important things in life, right?

but he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever confess to him like that

(not that it would happen any time soon. you were too busy being a tough training partner)

but everything aside, he wishes that people would just take the hint already.

because ignoring doesn’t help all the time.

the girl named fumiko would be a dreadful sight he’d be constantly reminded of.

from his shoe locker being flooded with love letters that speak nothing to him, and to the obnoxious commentary on his looks

he’d think that they were just harassing him to get a reaction, but bakugō katsuki will remain unbothered!

but he spoke too soon, because he was approached directly right after his late training session.

—scene—

bakugō hates it

he hates extras, he hates being outshined, and he hates distractions. what more was there to dislike in the world? everything clearly.

he can handle things properly, and with that tough demeanor of his, and he definitely doesn’t need a quick and easy solution, from the girl that’s glued to his side.

he told himself that a persistent extra is nothing, he can just simply ignore them and look at them, like how he always looks at useless pebbles, and they’d go away. but clearly not this girl

“get off, you fucking extra” he pushes her off, grabbing his water bottle and immediately storming off, but it doesn’t convince fumiko (he learned her name unfortuantely) to finally lay off.

“c’mon katsuki! this would’ve all been over if you just went out with me!”

bakugō can’t hide the cringe on his face, hearing his first name, ugh. he doesn’t know how she found out about his late training sessions, considering that she wasn’t in his class or class 1-b

he doubts that he’d run into anyone at this hour, they’d be all in the common room, and he did say that he wanted all of them to ‘fuck off’. but luck does work in mysterious ways.

“..what’re you doing here?” he questions, clearly surprised by your presence, and his frustration would’ve disappeared at that exact mom“dinner’s almost ready. actually, why do you look so.. alarmed? is there a villain?—”

his palms are starting to sweat, and it’s not because of his training, or because of the girl that won’t leave him alone. “no! fuck no. okay, there’s just some shitty extra that’s been following me around like some obsessed freak.”

you decide to be smug, “i knew there was going to be a brave soul out there, ready to sacrifice themselves.” you rest your hand on your left side, like it was heart warming, but the blond is not amused with your gesture.

“right, right!” you hold your hands up, surrendering. “okay, what do you want me to do?”

“just don’t say a fucking thing.” you can hear foot steps get closer and closer to the both of you, and in a hurry, he pushes you closer to him, the smell of caramel evading your senses.

before you could even say a word, he kisses you. it’s rough, and it makes you feel warm, and it’s definitely not because of his quirk, or because of the large, warm palms that rest against your sides.

you get a grip on him, holding onto his shoulder when you feel your knees buck because of the butterflies in your stomach, and it seems to get worse when bakugō holds you even tighter

“okay geez, i get it. you’re taken!” you can hear the girl exclaim in humiliation and disgust, “ugh, a guy like you wouldn’t be able to handle me anyway.”

and when she finally scurries away, the both of you break the kisses, the wind out of you being knocked out cold from his sudden act of ‘romance’

“i sorta understand the hype now.” you grin, your lips still tingle from the kiss, and you’re convinced that you want more, despite the kiss being out of spite, and for fumiko to back off.

“shut up.” you would’ve laughed at him if it was any other day, but for now, you’re left silent. your heart flutters once more, when his lips press against your cheekbone briefly.

“c’mon, idiot. we’re gonna miss dinner.”

midoriya izuku

he’s so alarmed, and honestly very scared

he wasn’t popular, or well known to begin with, and people only started treating him like he was a real person in highschool

he’s just so used to being looked at like a background character, or a npc in a video game.

so the sudden swarm of suitors, and people that want to date him shocked him to the core.

he was never treated like this in middle school, or elementary!

it flatters him, and he’s glad that people actually like him. but.. he’d never actually think about being with either of them

because they’re not you, obviously. but wait, what’s so different about you exactly?

well.. you’ve treated him with kindness, even when he looked like this.. really awkward kid that sat at the back of the classroom.

so yeah, he’d never think about accepting anyone else’s confessions, as long as they’re not you

but still, midoriya has treated all of his admirers with kindness, despite not wanting to be with any of them

knowing how it feels to be humiliated, he wouldn’t want to do that on any of them

but.. this one particular girl was one he’d never truly be comfortable with, as much as he’d like to fake it.

rieko was.. something. probably the most persistent one out of all of them.

he would’ve appreciated it, if it weren’t for the fact that she was super obnoxious to other people.

and most importantly, he didn’t understand what she’d get out of it, and it wrecked his nerves!

— scene —

standing next to you, all lined up for lunch, midoriya shifts uncomfortably as he tries his best to ignore the loud and obvious commentary that’s being directed to him.

at first, it was flattering. but now? he just wishes things would go back to the times where people had no interest in him, whatsoever.

he knows what rieko really like him for, and it’s honestly disheartening. the girl would compliment him on things like his looks, and even his new moves!

but as soon as he elaborated on how he did it, the interest would fade away from her eyes

not that it did matter though. midoriya didn’t really have any feelings for any of the people that’ve approached him, wanting to date him. he’s been kind, and they’ve been kind in return, getting the hint and backing off.

the freckled boy was flattered but, not interested

but clearly, rieko didn’t get the message, despite the way midoriya would back away uncomfortably. how he’d immediately excuse himself whenever he’d see the girl.

just.. all signs of disinterest

“go! just ask him already!” he can hear her friends encourage her, but he’s not very enthusiastic to know what they’re cheering her on for

“he won’t be able to resist! just walk right in and do it, you guys will be an attractive couple anyway!”

midoriya’s palms are shaky, and he tries his best to calm his nerves down by clenching his fists. this doesn���t go un-noticed by you.

“you okay, midoriya?” you ask, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and the green haired boy hopes that his cheeks aren’t turning red.

the both of you guys are awfully close! not that he’s complaining, it’s just that—

“is it about them?” you ask in a nearly quiet tone, and midoriya’s aware that you’re talking about them.

“uhm..” midoriya tries to formulate a proper answer, not wanting to sound as bothered as he actually is. how would he be able to explain this? “don’t worry about it,” midoriya reassures, “it’s just—”

“do you think that he’s dating that person? you know, the one beside them?” he hears that the topic of the conversation has shifted, and the group of girls are referring to you.

midoriya wasn’t planning on telling anyone about the dilemma. let alone his crush. it was something he was going to ignore, until the mess calmed down.

but now? you’re roped into it, and his nerves didn’t calm down at all.

“izuku dating them? no, it can’t be. he’s too good for them!”

“that’s the spirit, rieko. you should just go like.. now!”

to him, it’s the other way around. you’re too good for him, and you’re out of his league. so, this comment upsets him to all ends.

he’s pondering on what he should do, and before he could take you out of the line to get food at some other place, he feels something warm enlace his hand.

he slightly shivers when he realizes that it’s your hand he’s holding, cheeks flushed with crimson.

your eyes are ahead, a lot more composed than he is clearly, but if he looked hard enough, he could sense the nervousness in your hold.

“you wanna leave the line, izu?” his first name sounds different when you say it, and he thinks to himself that he prefers it a lot more when it comes from you

“y-yes.” and you smile, pressing your lips against his cheek quickly, before tugging his hand and pulling him out of the line, walking away from the group.

it’s a miracle that he didn’t drop onto the cafeteria’s floors.

you can feel his anxiety subsiding. despite his flushed cheeks remaining, he looks better than he did a few seconds ago, and you’re glad.

deciding the both of you were at a safe distance, you peek over your shoulder. you can see the absolute defeat on rieko’s face, and the scowl on her friends’ faces as they attempted to comfort their heartbroken friend.

“thank you, y/n.”

“no, it’s nothing, really. anyhow, what do you plan on eating for lunch?”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

You Can Hear It In The Silence

Summary: Sneaking around can be fun, but sometimes the silence is just too quiet, or falling in love with your best friend. 

Pairing: Spencer x Fem Reader (SMUT) MINORS DNI 

Word Count: 3.7K 

Warnings: Smut Minors DNI (It’s smut, nothing kinky but very romantic and soft) oral (both receiving), kissing, lovebites and tame scratching, penetrative sex, unprotected sex in a committed relationship(like last time, let me know if I missed anything) 

Author’s Note: Minors please DNI, I have a lot of other fluff pieces that are totally acceptable for you guys to read. I hope that this isn’t too schmaltzy because that just gives me agita. This is based off You are In Love by Taylor Swift and maybe a little bit of Dress

You Can Hear It In The Silence 

It’s a blurry line, going from best friends to dating. There’s nothing like playing that dangerous game of stolen glances and surreptitious touches in a dark room. Eyes ranking over figures decked out in soft cardigans and tweed blazers or black dress pants and silk blouses, desperately wanting to see more, touch more, taste more. The senses could only sated for so long before the desire for more bubbles to the surface. 

Across the table, Spencer watches as Y/N sips the red wine JJ brought over. It’s hard to not watch her; to not completely hone in on the way her eyes are light with laughter, or the way her hair cascades down her shoulder, blending into the dark green color of her dress. Spencer kills himself trying to not look at her because he knows if he does, he’s done. Or rather, he knows that if he lets himself love her openly, he’ll only end up hurting themselves. So, he sits there, in Derek’s backyard trying to pretend that he’s not staring at Y/N. The only thought that comforts him is holding on to the idea that Y/N is doing the same thing. He supposes that’s what happens to relationships that blossom from the shadows of secrecy. In their attempts to not hurt others, they end up almost destroying themselves. 

He decides to pretend to find Garica’s cuckoo clock fascinating. He stares at the wacky colored birds and swinging arms entirely too long. In the corner of his eye Spencer watches the next couple of moments unfold. JJ and Garcia drunkenly bounce over to Y/N; they put their arms around her in a fit of giggles and smiles. Garcia’s arm extends around JJ’s neck and she lets out a loud announcement for a “Selfie” or rather what Spencer can only assume is a photograph of the three of them. The phone, even though Spencer does have some disdain for the invention, sure does serve its purpose. In all the light rays bouncing around and the blinding flash, pure magic happens. Spencer is aware that it makes him sound like a total sap, but he’s jealous of the phone. He’s jealous that his eidetic memory may only allow him to remember the Y/N’s notes in the margins of her case file or the annual “Happy Birthday, Genius” on a Hallmark card once a year. What he would give to just be able to capture her in the light of company, not hanging on to fleeting memories in the shadows.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer does not notice an unusually drunk Unit Chief wandering over to the empty chair next to him. All of his awkwardness, Spencer is not sure if he should acknowledge his drunken boss or stop staring at his secret girlfriend. It’s at time like these that Spencer resorts to reciting Crime and Punishment or 100 Years of Solitude either seem ironically appropriate. 

“Reid,” Hotch says, leans in close, far too close for the usual uptight and business-like Aaron Hotchner that Spencer has grown to know. 

“Hotch?” Spencer answers, his voice laced with trepidation and anxiety. 

“You gotta stop staring at Y/L/N. You’re gonna rat on yourselves if you don’t stop staring at her like that,” Hotch tells him, his breath might smell like whiskey, but his eyes tell Spencer that he’s a lot more sober than he seems. 

“Like what?” Spencer counters, choosing to play dumb at best as he could, or at least just slightly clueless. 

“That doesn’t work on me, Reid. You should stop looking at her like you love her,” 

Spencer looks at his boss, at Y/N, and back at his drink. Was he seriously that transparent? 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hotch. Y/N and I are-” 

“Spence! Spencer!,” Y/N shouts as she practically runs over to where Spencer sits with Hotch, watching the rest of the team. 

It’s like Hotch isn’t even there anymore, it’s like no one is even there. God, it might sound sappy, but Spencer doesn’t care anymore. It’s going to kill him playing it like he doesn’t care about Y/N, especially considering he’s doing a mediocre job. 

“I have a really bad headache, Spence. And I need you to take me home,” Y/N asks him, and Spencer notices an eager glint in her eyes that tells him all he needs to know. 

“Keep this between us please, Hotch? Just until we figure it out,” Spencer almost pleads to Hotch who answers with a dismissive wave. He leaves them there to figure out their plans to sneak out of Garcia’s undetected. 

“Hotch knows? Of course you know,” Y/N says with a roll of her eyes and a quick wink at Spencer, whose growing embarrassment from the situation is only second to his excitement at the night to come. 

“Spence, go say goodbye for me? I’m going to head to your car. You really gotta sell that I’m feeling sick,” Y/N tells him, standing a little too close and dipping her hand a little too low on Spencer’s waist for this to be a friendly gesture to any of their friends that might pass by. She takes a peak around the room and reaches her hand into Spencer’s pocket. He gives her a startled glance, but they both know that the thrill of sneaking around like this is kind of worth it. 

As Y/N ducks out of the room, Spencer makes his way to where Emily, JJ, Garcia, and Derek sit at the kitchen table taking shots of a clear liquid Spencer thinks is tequila. Great, Spencer thinks. Him and his secret girlfriend, who as far as the team knows is his best friend, have to sneak out of Garica’s place in front of a pile of loud drunks. Spencer feels his phone buzz, altering him that there is a very impatient Y/N waiting in the car for him  

“Uh, Garcia, Y/N’s got a really bad headache. I think it’s an onset of one of her migraines that she gets from red wine,” Spencer lies through his teeth, completely terrified from the way Emily glares at him. It’s like she can see right through him.

“So you’re taking her home?” Derek asks, speeding along the process and for that Spencer considers himself forever grateful. 

“Yeah, you know we are neighbors after all,” Spencer reasons. 

The awkward silence in the kitchen is only interrupted by JJ’s quiet humming to the song that plays in the background. Derek and Emily share a knowing glance as Penelope starts pouring the next round of shots. 

“I’ll see you guys on Monday, Y/N is waiting for me in the car,” Spencer says without a further glance to his very perceptive colleagues. 

“You go take care of Y/N, Pretty Boy!” Derek yells as Spencer walks out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him, perhaps a little too eagerly. 

When Spencer gets to his car, he stops himself before opening the door. In the light from the lamppost, Spencer can see his reflection in the back window of his car. He runs a hand through his hair and attempts to fix the crookedness of his tie. Smiling to himself, Spencer gets into the driver’s seat of his car and is greeted by Y/N, who even in the dark makes him feel alive. 

“Hey,” he offers nervously. Even though they’ve been together loads of times, there is a tingle of intimidation that settles in his heart everytime she looks at him. 

Never the one to shy down from a confrontation, Y/N leans in and places her hand gracefully on Spencer’s neck and her face looms close to his ear. Her voice is low and seductive and Spencer swears he can feel himself melt at the feeling of her being this close and him able to touch her. He brings his hands up to rest, one on her upper thigh, placed bravely under the slip of her silk dress, and the other draws circles around her elbow.. 

“Spencer, I need you to drive us home,” Y/N tells him a voice that Spencer knows he could never deny. 

He doesn’t answer her, because the silence speaks for itself. They can hear all they need to know in the silence. The quiet way that their bodies seem to just gravitate to each other. Spencer’s hand cups Y/N’s thigh and her fingers graze the back of Spencer’s neck. It’s those quiet touches that tell the other what they are too afraid to say aloud. 

The quietness settles between them even as they pull into the parking spot. It’s like they’re dance partners, completely a routine of sneaking in the shadows effortlessly. Or like they’re actors in a play, pretending that they’re not dying to play the role in reality. It’s a dangerous game that they play. But all of that is forgotten, pushed to the side as Spencer opens the door and the curtain rises. 

Y/N initiates the kiss, pushing Spencer down on the couch. She straddles his waist, her silky green dress spills over her thighs and Spencer is in awe of how the color contrasts against her bare skin. He’s not an artist, but looking at her he’s sure he has laid his eyes on the most beautiful being he’s ever seen. He might not believe in magic, it’s all just science and mind tricks, but he’s nothing but transfixed at the women sitting in his lap. 

“Spencer, please get these clothes off,” Y/N commands in a voice that gives away how badly she wants him. 

“Wait your turn, Y/N” Spencer says in a teasing tone that brings out Y/N’s sly smile. 

“Then do something!” Y/N shouts, getting even more impatient than she was in the car. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, I-I mean you’re always so beautiful, but you’re just so-” Spencer stammers over his words, and the only thing he’s sure of is that his insecurity is the biggest turn off. But Y/N continues to surprise him each and everyday, and tonight is no less. 

“Slow down, baby. It’s just me. There’s no need to go so fast right now. We have all night,” Y/N soothes, craning down her neck to plant wet kisses down Spencer’s neck. She’s probably leaving marks, Spencer thinks, but his desire to be seen as her’s outweighs the teasing from Morgan on Monday. 

The fact that it’s Y/N perched in his lap, kissing down his neck and wiggling around in a way that she can feel everything does nothing to fend off the adrenaline that Spencer’s high off of. 

“I need to see your face,” Spencer says holding her by the shoulders. He reaches around her as she leans back to unzip her dress. She stands so it falls to the ground in a pool of dark green fabric. Her body is out in the open to him and Spencer’s flushed face must be on fire by now. 

“I need to see your face, Spencer,” Y/N says in a way that Spencer knows that he can’t disobey. 

There’s that silence again. That loud silence, filled with lines of unsaid love poems and quiet love songs. The silence that says the perfect things that Y/N deserves to hear, but Spencer is too scared to say. Three months too soon to say, I love you, Spencer tells himself. His mind spins so fast that he feels guilty for neglecting the naked woman standing before him. 

“If you’re gonna fuck me Spence, we’re gonna do it in a bed. I love you and all but this couch is not going to handle me when I get a hold of you,” Y/N says as she runs off into his bedroom, leaving Spencer dumbfounded in her wake. 

Spencer swallows down his fears and anxieties. He sheds his clothes off during his walk to the bedroom. Y/N lies down on his bed and Spencer won’t let the silence speak for him this time. 

“How are you this perfect, Y/N?” Spencer asks as he crawls in between Y/N’s legs. He rests his hands on her upper thighs and looks at her like expects her to answer his question. Spencer dips his fingers down to the place Y/N wants him the most. In the low light from Spencer’s lamp he can see how his fingers glisten. 

“You took too long at Penny’s Spence, I had to start without you,” Y/N explains, a slight flush to her cheeks reminds Spencer that she too is just as affected by him as he is by her. 

“You touched yourself in my car?” Spencer asks pressing a firm kiss on each side of Y/N hip bones. He dances his long fingers up to her stomach, where her own hands sit as if she’s shielding this part from him. 

“Yeah,” Y/N tells him, slightly breathless from the small kisses Spencer places on her stomach and back down to the softest part of her inner thighs. He tells himself that he’s got to slow himself down before he loses it at the site Y/N wriggling and moaning at his smallest touches. 

“I left you a present in your glove compartment, Spence,” 

“Huh, who knew I had such a naughty girl,” Spencer says with an unfamiliar bravery in his voice. Unsurprisingly, Y/N picks up on this and decides to see how far she can take it. 

“I have needs, Spencer. Do you think you can take care of them?” 

Spencer doesn’t respond, but ducks his head down to drag his tongue across her clit, feeling how wet she is. He refuses to break eye contact and realizes how obsessed he would get if she’d let him do this for the rest of his life. Spencer’s eyes carefully watch how Y/N’s facial expressions morph in intense pleasure. It’s like a science experiment. When he plunges his tongue into her, she closes her eyes. But when he blows softly on her inner thighs then leaves hot, wet kisses her fingers come up to latch onto his scalp. He peers at her and waits for the way she moans when he slips one, then two fingers in her. He curls them up in such a way that he knows drives her crazy. 

“Oh my God, Spencer! Please,” Y/N cries, twisting in the sheets. He continues at the pace he’s set, chasing the blissful feeling of her coming undone because of him. The moments leading up to her release, Y/N tears her hand away from Spencer’s head and connects her palm into his. Holding her hand, Spencer whispers praises and presses small kisses into her pussy. 

“Come here and kiss me now, baby. I need you,” Y/N whispers, grasping onto whatever parts of Spencer she could touch. Her fingers move to cup his face and she holds him like he’s made of glass. In between the soft sheets and even softer touches, Spencer knows what it’s like to feel precious. Y/N cranes her head forward to attack Spencer’s neck with kisses. She relishes in the soft and supple skin of his neck. Once again, Spencer finds himself not caring that she’s going to leave marks. 

“How are you this perfect, Spencer?” Y/N asks Spencer, who for the first time in his life does not have an answer for a question. 

He closes his and lets himself float around in the fuzzy feeling in his brain. All he can focus on is Y/N’s mouth. The way her praises make him believe in forever and the way her kisses litter his cheeks, eyes, chest. 

“You’re the perfect one, Y/N. I don’t even compare,” Spencer says as he watches Y/N twist underneath him and somehow maneuver herself so he lies beneath her. 

“None of that, Spencer” She tells him sharply. Y/N drags her nails down Spencer’s chest, not leaving scratches, just light discoloration. Her head and mouth is dangerously close to where his hardened cock lays leaking between his legs. 

She grasps around the base and just gingerly touches him that Spencer is sure he’s going to be blinded from the pleasure. Suddenly he feels almost self conscious. His anxiety is not unknown to Y/N, who lays a comforting hand in his, mirroring her earlier motion. 

“You don’t have to Y/N. I mean if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to think just because I’m your boyfriend and I did it for you-” Spencer rushes out, terrified of what Y/N’s reaction will be. 

“Look at me, Spencer. Do you want me to suck your cock, baby? Look at me,” Y/N says in a voice that Spencer doesn’t recognize and doesn’t dare ignore. 

“Yes,” he breathes out, his voice shakes as he feels Y/N’s mouth take in his tip. He hisses at the sensation. The smallest movements set him on fire. Spencer’s large hands come up to hover over Y/N’s shoulder blades.

“Don’t be quiet, baby. I want to hear you,” Y/N says before she deepens her hold of. She releases him to glide her younger down the side, sending shockwaves of pure pleasure in Spencer’s entire being. 

“You like that, Spencer. You like my mouth on your cock, baby?” Y/N eggs him on. 

Even though he’s lost the ability to speak, Spencer’s moans bounce around the room. He knows he’s a whimpering mess below Y/N, but he’s chasing the feeling of release shamelessly. 

“Y/N, Y/N. Baby, you gotta stop. Or I’m gonna cum right now,” Spencer chants, tightening his grip on Y/N’s hand. He forces himself to calm down to focus on Y/N, but it’s a little difficult when all Y/N is focusing on him. 

Spencer sat up, his back against the headboard, and he pulled Y/N forward so she rested in his lap. She grins up at him, and Spencer can feel his heart squeeze at the look. She’s going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die a happy man. 

Much to Y/N’s pleasure, Spencer lets out a lewd moan as she grinds down, pressing her wet pussy to his throbbing cock. He feels a little ridiculous getting so worked up and she’s not even inside him yet. 

“Please, Y/N. I need you, I’m not going to last long,” Spencer utters. He says her name like a prayer, it’s a hymn to her ears. 

“I got you, Spence,” she tells him, sheathing his length into her. 

Spencer pulls Y/N in closer so that their chests are flush together. Among the chorus of moans and mumbles of praise, Spencer reaches down to hold Y/N’s hand. He’s not a believer in soulmates. He was sure that he’d never find his match. Never find the one person who’d share his dreams and become his dream. But sitting there, Spencer cannot deny that he’s tethered to Y/N. Their hands link together and mouths refuse to let go, searching for any exposed skin. 

“Spencer,” Y/N groans, leaning her forehead into his. She looks into his eyes and Spencer dares to wonder if her eyes are glassy because of him. It’s magic how someone like her can make a believer, a dreamer out of a man afraid of living. 

Spencer closes his eyes in pure ecstasy. Y/N sucks along the tender skin of his chest, causing him to flush at her ministrations. He can feel her tighten inside him, so he snakes his fingers down to stroke her clit, exciting moans and more fervent kisses along his chest and up to his ear. 

“Just like that, Spence. You’re so perfect my sweet boy,” 

“Y/N, cum on me, cum on me baby,” Spencer cries, finally able to let go as he feels himself come undone underneath Y/N.

Spencer’s whimpers and constant moans set Y/N over the edge. She mewled into Spencer’s shoulder, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin. As her orgasm rakes over her body, Y/N tugs on Spencer’s hair, suddenly quite happy he’s keeping it almost shoulder length. 

Both of them feel their bodies come back to life, their breathing steadies and their hearts seem to beat a little bit slower. Gone were the array of moans. Gone was the burning desire to chase their release. Gone was the sound of praise. All that stands between Spencer and Y/N is the silence. The silence that says quite enough for them. 

The silence that’s braver than Spencer. 

He’s quiet as Y/N flops to his side, entirely spent and tired from the company of friends and strenuous activities that just transpired. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Spence” She offers, turning to her side to look at him. He gives her a straight faced smile, unsure of how to approach the subject. He knows that she knows what he’s thinking about, sometimes even before he’s thinking about it. 

“I meant it, Spencer. I really do love you,” Y/N professes, finally breaking the silence. Spencer swallows as his eyes scan the girl before him. 

“You’re my best friend, Y/N,” Spencer says quietly, and suddenly realizes that it’s probably not what a girl who just confessed her love for you wants to hear. But he knows that Y/N understands-- she understands him. 

“What I mean is, I want midnight coffee nights with you. I want small talk and deep conversations and everything in between,” Spencer says quickly. “I want you in secret Y/N, but I want you in public too,” 

Spencer watches his confession settle into Y/N’s face. He’s scared for the rejection, for the daylight to break on his dream.

“I’ve waited for you to say that for so long, Spence,” She says, leaning in to close the gap between their naked bodies. Spencer pulls her in to rest his chin on top of Y/N’s head. It’s comforting being there, feeling her heartbeat in the tune of his own. He feels safe, wrapped up around in Y/N.

They’re sweaty and smell like sex, but Spencer doesn’t care. His hair is messy and he’s exhausted, but Spencer doesn’t care. His neck and chest are littered with lovebites and marks, but Spencer doesn’t care. After months of running around in the shadows, months of letting the unsaid say what he desperately wants to say, months of being patient but dying with anticipation, Spencer doesn’t care. Spencer doesn’t care because on Monday morning, Y/N won’t drop his hand when they walk into the bullpen. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!!

Taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ 

Comment or send in an ask if you’d like to be tagged (please specify if you don’t want to be tagged in NSFW, but make sure your age is in your bio)

[raine-kai]

Contextualizing the Messy AkiHaru Scene

So...it came to my attention that a lot of translations of the scene where Akihiko crashes at Haruki's house in chapter 20 of the manga or the anime movie suggest that nothing happened more than we see in the panels/on the screen.

This is a translation error. The Japanese is unambiguous that a lot happened during the scene break; the art backs this up, in the change to Haruki's hairstyle from before to after the scene break.

Mainly, I want to retranslate for people who are interested, who didn't know that this was a mistranslation. But, I think that no matter how the scene is translated, there are subtexts and undercurrents that are lost, that cannot be simply translated into existence.

So I would like to explain several things in the lead-up to the scene in question, as well as in the aftermath, in order to hopefully give more context.

WARNINGS FOR SPOILERS AND NONCON

Notes on Translation: Given astonished me from its very first chapter with its deliberate and brilliant use of words. It is a story that is so incredibly articulate when it wants to be that moments of wordlessness or fragmented words are equally articulate, for they are crafted with as much deliberation and care as the articulate moments. As anyone knows who has ever tried to translate something, just plain translating the surface meaning of words often leaves a lot of the meaning behind. I will do my best to convey in English what the original text conveyed to me in Japanese, but it will inevitably fall short of the original text.

The Lead-In

First off, let's talk about Akihiko and the particular damage that he brings with him into this scene. He, of course, has the argument with Ugetsu and the fact that he has nowhere to go; but he has also been living this way for two years, presumably only a little longer than he has known Haruki. Akihiko describes the patterns that he and Ugetsu go through:

[Translation: "Even since Ugetsu and I broke up, we periodically continue to clash. Sometimes it's about the timing at which Ugetsu found a new guy. Sometimes it's just before or after Ugetsu is away for a long time. Sometimes these clashes come suddenly, immediately after we have been intimate for a few days, just like we used to be.]

Later, Akihiko reveals that he has a pattern of dealing with being kicked out of the home he shares with Ugetsu by finding someone, anyone to stay with. He has come to associate these stays as transactions, where the thing that he provides is most often sex. (We also see this transaction-based approach in his relationship with Ugetsu, for whom he feels compelled to cook—a thing that he later continues for Haruki with an urgency that does not match Haruki's easygoing acceptance of this dynamic.)

In fact, we see hints that perhaps Akihiko associates crashing with someone with providing sex to a deeper degree than even he acknowledges, in a scene in volume 1 where he crashed at Haruki's apartment while drunk, and upon stating it would be too much trouble to pull out a futon, did not merely crawl into bed with Haruki, but on top of him.

[Translation: Haru: Akihiko, get a futon and sleep wherever... Aki: Whaaat? But that's so much effort... Haru: So sleep on the....floor....]

So this is a deeply engrained association for Akihiko.

However, it is also a part of his life that he has gone out of his way to conceal from Haruki. From Haruki, he has not merely concealed the many times that he has essentially prostituted himself for a place to sleep; he has also hidden from Haruki that he has any flatmate at all, much less the nature of his relationship with said flatmate.

Haruki has the idea that Akihiko used to sleep around, but does not anymore. He is blinded partly by his own desire to see only the best parts of Akihiko; he is also blinded by Akihiko's desire to only reveal the best parts of himself to Haruki.

In volume 4, we see the moment that Akihiko lets slip that he has a flatmate, and the degree to which this shakes Haruki.

But the more emotional moment for Haruki comes when he realizes that Akihiko is talking to him on the phone while having sex with a woman.

[Translation: "That was a woman.... He was totally having sex."]

No promises have been broken; no trust has been betrayed. But there is an illusion of Akihiko that Haruki has, that Akihiko himself has carefully cultivated over the recent months for a reason that even he cannot explain. It is a paper-thin illusion, that only held up because Akihiko and Haruki both wanted it there.

But now, that illusion is shattering.

This just so happens to overlap with Take suggesting that Haruki take on a support role in his ex-gf's band.

Haruki has struggled from volume 1 with insecurities. He is the band leader; he is the one who brought them together, the one who runs their social media, the one who keeps them in line. Given is a band that absolutely would never have existed without Haruki. Yet he feels outshined by the other three members. There are several scenes depicting Haruki struggling with this. Akihiko is often the one to whom he voices his insecurities, and always without fail sets him straight. There is one particular exchange, during the same conversation when Akihiko reveals that he has a flatmate, when Haruki calls himself ordinary (凡人枠) and Akihiko retorts that he is not, he is 調停者枠....which is difficult to translate, but essentially means mediator, but in this case is denoting that he is the one who brings the different pieces of the band together (both musically, and as a person). Akihiko tells him then, "You're the one that everybody seeks," with a particular look in his eyes even as he reaches for Haruki's face. (Haruki pulls away and Akihiko pulls back and laughs it off.)

But the undercurrent is, for the first time, Haruki is beginning to see the truth of the words that he never quite believed. He is wanted and needed...he just needs to find a way to explain this to the other members of Given. In particular, Akihiko, who has always felt to Haruki like someone on equal or higher footing than himself, despite Haruki himself being older.

And these are the undercurrents at play as we head into the scene in question.

The Crucial Chapters 19-20

Akihiko shows up on Haruki's doorstop in the middle of the night, with an injured face from a fight with Ugetsu.

Haruki lets him in and they start talking as usual....but this time, it's different. They are both just a little bit at odds in a way they have never been before.

Haruki is aware, now, of a facet of Akihiko's life that until recently he had believed was left in the past.

Akihiko perceives that Haruki is hiding something, and in his typical way, immediately wants to know what it is.

This is why, when Akihiko asks his questions and asks if Haruki is hiding something, Haruki snaps back in a way we have never seen him do before:

[Tr: "[I am, but] you're one to talk!"]

Akihiko grabs Haruki by the wrist and asks again, and Haruki tells him...but throws in that the band he is doing support for is his ex's band.

Akihiko responds, "So you're going back to your ex?" and proceeds to crawl on top of Haruki to acknowledge for the first time what has always been unspoken between them: "You're in love with me, yet you're gonna run away?"

As Haruki lies sputtering for a response (he tries to pretend ignorance, but can't finish a sentence, between Akihiko pressing closer and his own shock) Akihiko reaches for Haruki's braid—the hair that Haruki has been growing out for as long as he has known Akihiko, as something like a wish charm (願掛け) for his love; the hair that Akihiko is somewhat obsessed with, taking every opportunity he can to play with it or style it—and speaks words that reveal that he is still fixated on Haruki's ex.

[Full text: 春樹さぁ、元カノがどうとか言ってたけど、お前こんなんで本当に女なんか抱いてたの？

Translation: You talk about this ex-girlfriend, Haruki, but did you seriously have sex with women like this?

Note: the こんなんで/"like this" is beautifully ambiguous. On a surface level of course it is referring to Haruki's long hair—with all the years of pining and love for Akihiko that that implies—but it also draws attention to how they are right now. The fact that Akihiko has crawled on top of Haruki as he has before, and Haruki does not fully push him away. It draws attention to the way that Akihiko himself is so central to Haruki's entire being.]

While Haruki flushes and thinks to himself, "Shut up, shut up! I did have sex with women, before I met you!" Meanwhile, Akihiko kisses him—a kiss that the art carefully does not show us lip-to-lip, either only showing us angles where we cannot see the point of contact, or focusing on the contact of only their tongues. Make no mistake, this is not a romantic kiss. This is a kiss full of frustration and pent up emotions and two years of unspoken, unacknowledged emotion brewing between these two.

Akihiko begins to strip Haruki further, and Haruki interjects, 「え、うそ、うそうそ、待った」(tr: "Wha- wait wait wait, just a sec"), which Akihiko ignores, and proceeds to begin performing oral sex on Haruki, even as he acknowledges internally that his actions are taking out his frustration with Ugetsu on Haruki.

[Note: the words Haruki uses at this point are not clear "Stop" signals. え、うそ、待った are all words that convey shock and uncertainty, and it is noteworthy that Haruki does not at any point use a word that would convey an equivalent of "Stop". That doesn't make this consensual, as his consent has not been obtained, but this is important to note, that Haruki deliberately does not ever outright tell Akihiko to stop.]

This is where Akihiko reflects on his messy relationship with Ugetsu, and the lingering hold it has on him:

Even since Ugetsu and I broke up, we periodically continue to clash. Sometimes it's about the timing at which Ugetsu found a new guy. Sometimes it's just before or after Ugetsu is away for a long time. Sometimes these clashes come suddenly, immediately after we have been intimate for a few days, just like we used to be. Like he is urging me, "Great, here's an opportunity. Let's part ways and break up for real." Like he is shutting me out of his world by force, to reinforce that he doesn't need me. What the hell? If you don't want me, why do you allow me to hold on? If you sympathize with my holding on, why do you try to throw me away? I want to trap you. I want to escape. I want to give up. I can't fully give up. I want to touch you. I can't breathe...

And when Akihiko comes back to the present, some time has past. His shirt is gone, Haruki places a hand over Akihiko's with tears in his eyes, and for the first time, says やめてよ [approx. translation: "Please stop," but this is a very gentle way of saying it—a plea in softer language]....and then continues, そんな顔しないでよ、辛そうな顔しないでよ、なんなの？言ってよ、なんでもしてあげるから [tr: "Please stop looking like that, like you're in such pain...What is it? Please tell me. I would give you anything."]

It is the なんでもしてあげるから here that is utterly striking. @edragoon​ and I debated translations and arrived on "I would give you anything" as the best option, but even with Haruki's soft language leading up to this, even with his words so focused on Akihiko's pain, the sheer love conveyed by these words is heart-wrenching—as is the art, Haruki's hand reaching out to Akihiko's face.

Akihiko has unearthed Haruki's unspoken feeling as part of his self-destructive spiral in a move that he no doubt expected to hurt Haruki, but instead, Haruki has owned up to his no longer hidden feelings and offers all of himself to Akihiko; turns the focus back onto Akihiko and his pain, rather than on himself, as Akihiko probably expected. As no doubt has happened in similar situations with Ugetsu.

And Akihiko, caught between Haruki here and the mess in his heart that is Ugetsu, expresses resentment that these words are coming from Haruki instead of Ugetsu.

"Why did you have to be the one to say that?" Akihiko laments silently, and then out loud,

[tr: "Telling you won't change anything."]

He follows this up with a small, "Sorry," and wonders to himself "Why couldn't it have been you?" (In Japanese, as in English, it is ambiguous whether he is wishing that Haruki were the one he wanted those words from, or that Ugetsu were the one saying those words. The last use of "you" in his internal monologue was directed at Haruki, supporting the first interpretation, but he is also lost in his head, so it would be no surprise if he is swaying back and forth.)

The scene breaks here, and on the next page, Haruki is curled up facing the back of the couch, fully dressed in new clothes and his hair now pulled back in a ponytail, and Akihiko is seated on the floor with his back to the couch, shirtless.

[Tr: "I'm sorry. Truly. I was completely in the wrong."]

Haruki responds, "That's not the part I want an apology for," even as he remembers those damning words, Telling you won't change anything.

[Tr: "...I said I'd give you anything. By the end it was basically consensual."]

Haruki goes on to say Akihiko is free to stay over, but he will be going to a friend's place.

Akihiko visibly panics, but only manages to call Haruki's name once as Haruki tells him he can use anything, can leave the door unlocked, but simply should be gone by morning.

Haruki leaves the apartment, and we see him cry as he walks through the darkened streets as those words Akihiko spoke again.

Left behind, Akihiko berates himself for how much he lets himself lean and depend (甘える) on Haruki, and he reflects on the events with his family and Ugetsu that lead him to where he is, without anywhere else to go. [NOTE: this is no doubt a significant factor in his later decision to move out of Haruki's apartment once as he goes through the process of bettering himself.] He contemplates the ways in which he has behaved towards Haruki, the parts of his own life he has almost instinctively hidden from his view.

Akihiko spends the night on the floor by the couch. (A shot of the clock at one point tells us it is 1:20am.)

We see morning dawn, and it is as Take is at work discussing lunch break that he gets a text from Akihiko, asking if he's seen Haruki. It is in the evening, when Take goes home, that he finds Haruki listless and hollow-eyed in front of his apartment.

The clock reads 9:40pm when Haruki comes home at last. Apart from the few hours he was with Take, Haruki has spent the better part of a night and a day alone who knows where.

[Tr: "Oh, you're still here"]

The hair that Akihiko had adored, the hair that Haruki had been growing since the day he met and fell for Akihiko, is cut short.

The Aftermath

The two of them don't shy away from the subtext of the last day—especially Haruki, who says blandly, "Sorry, but I'm tired after your rejection of my feelings, as you can see. Please go home." And when Akihiko tries to reach for him with a, "Wait, but—" his hand his slapped away by Haruki, who informs him, "Look, I'm angry at you." and cuts off Akihiko's attempted apology one syllable in with an admonishment that an apology will only make him angrier.

But Akihiko says what he should have said the night before—that he is at the end of his rope and has nowhere to go. He quietly asks to be permitted to stay in Haruki's apartment, assuring him that he will sleep on the floor, that he will not do anything again. He begs for Haruki to help him.

Haruki is furious.

「サイアク」the narration repeats: "[This/he] is the worst."

At last, Haruki agrees, but with the words, "If you weren't a band member, I'd throw you out."

The next day at band practice, Akihiko and Haruki are wildly out of sync, and while Haruki puts on a carefree smile for Uenoyama and Mafuyu, he is still spiraling with despair and humiliation.

And yet Akihiko too is on pins and needles, reacting with abject (though silent) horror when Uenoyama asks Haruki what's wrong.

But Haruki tells Uenoyama and Mafuyu nothing, and when he walks off and Akihiko goes after him, the words that come out of his mouth are all about his insecurities about his place in the band. About how he is too ordinary and does not belong in such a band of geniuses.

This is not what Akihiko was expecting his outburst to be about; this is also familiar territory for him, that he knows how to handle. Akihiko knows music.

He assures Haruki of why his music was off today, as he would have any other day. He assures Haruki that he is utterly deserving of his place in their band, as he has so many times before.

[Tr: "I've pretty much always told you that you're necessary, haven't I!?"]

And all at once, memories come rushing back to Haruki of so many times that Akihiko has told him of his value.

Haruki's anger loses its momentum and he deflates. They had back to Haruki's apartment, with Akihiko promising to cook dinner, as he is the freeloader. (Another nod to his tendency to view these arrangements as transactional.)

Living together proves a disillusionment process for Haruki. Of course, the night that Akihiko first came to his apartment was the enormous catalyst, but the disillusionment process continues.

All of those ways in which he had formerly idealized Akihiko crumble one after another for Haruki as they live together. Akihiko cooks, but he only has one flavor profile, and often makes fried rice. Akihiko spends most of his days on music, be it violin or the drums, and it is louder than Haruki is used to with his bass—it is also evidence that Akihiko is the musician he is because he puts in the work, not just inherent talent.

...And that brings us to the end of volume 4, so I think I shall stop here!

If you read all this way, thank you, and I hope this added something positive to your day!

[cevaannss]

Just Friends (Reader x Chris Evans)

Pairing: Reader x Chris Evans

Prompt: “you say we are just friends, but friends don’t know the way you taste” but with a happy ending? - Anon

Warnings: R rating, Some sexual content/Smut, Minors DNI. Brief mentions of/allusions to anxiety.

Authors Notes: This is my first prompt fill on here in years, so I might be a little rusty any feedback is appreciated, please let me know if there’s anything I missed warning or tagging. I also didn’t intend for this to be so long but I got a little carried away with it.

When you and Chris first met, you had been young, wide eyed, fresh faced kids. He was barely 20, filming at your old high school, and you a member of the local theatre group were recruited as an extra. You had graduated a year prior and were coming to the end of your gap year, you would be going to college in a few short months. After seeing each other in passing on set, you and Chris had your first conversation in the kraft services trailer, both leaning in to grab the last remaining bagel. After a back and forth of “you take it” “no you” “seriously its okay” you agreed to split it and thus began your friendship.

It was weird, from that first day you had a connection like neither of you had experienced with anyone else. You talked daily, would be each other’s dates to your friends weddings, hung out with each other’s families without the other around. You were mistaken for boyfriend and girlfriend many times throughout your years of friendship but that was never what it was about. You’d both dated plenty, often times ending relationships because the person you were seeing couldn’t deal with your closeness to each other. But for you both that was just how it was, and if they couldn’t accept it then they weren’t worth your time. Maybe they were right, you had always had a crush on Chris, and you had a feeling it was reciprocated but you’d always had an understanding, a common ground that you were friends and that’s all you’d ever needed to be.

The first time you had edged into more than friends territory was on Chris’ 37th birthday. You had thrown him a party at his house and he had been a little, okay a lot drunk and while you weren’t far behind him you were still sober enough to take care of his messy ass. After everyone had left you had attempted to clean up a bit, collecting garbage and wiping down the kitchen, the whole time Chris was passed out on his couch. You had managed to wake him enough to get him up and into his bedroom, out of his jeans and shoes and into his bed. You bought him a glass of water and two Advil placing them on his beside table, him grabbing your wrist as you placed the water down, pulling you on top of him into a half hug as he tended to do when he was drunk. He’d always been touchy when he was drunk, letting his hands linger on you longer than normal but it had always been innocent. He mumbled something into your ear, something he’d said a million times, and you replied the same response you had given a million more. But what he said next had changed it all.

“No, not like that”

It stopped you in your tracks because what did he mean not like that. It had to be like that. It had always been like that. This wasn’t how this went. Not for the two of you. You weren’t “those” friends.

“Then like what” you had whispered, panic setting in, soberness hitting you like a Mack truck as you looked back at him. But of course he had fallen asleep again, dead to the world, arm wrapped around your waist as you perched on the edge of his bed. Silence filling the air except for the light snoring he was emitting.

The next morning you had been awoken by clattering coming from the kitchen. Stumbling out of the guest room you walked in to Chris attempting to make breakfast, standing in the door way you watched him, his eyes squinted and slow moving, lingering proof of his previous inebriation. He was making blueberry pancakes, it was a post birthday tradition, but you were usually the one who made them for him on the day after his birthday.

Seeing him standing there sliding another half burnt pancake onto the stack he had started made you smile, he tried bless him, but he was never great in the kitchen. The conversation from last night soon flooded your memory and you couldn’t stop yourself.

“What did you mean”

Chris looked up from pouring more batter into the pan, finally noticing your presence.

“Morning” he mumbled, clearly not fully awake yet “What do you mean, what did I mean?”

“Last night, in your room, you said you loved me...”

“I always say I love you?” He let out a low chuckle but looked confused, you weren’t sure if he really didn’t remember or if he was just pleading ignorance, usually you were quick to spot if he was lying but this time your radar couldn’t pin it. He turned his attention back to flipping the pancake in the pan.

“Yeah but when I said I love you too bestie... you said ‘No, not like that’ what did you mean?”

His head snapped up, redness filling his cheeks, and it was in that moment that you had known things were changing whether you had wanted them to or not.

“Oh” you said, your breath escaping you, as the realization hit.

“Yeah” he said eyes focused on the pancake burning in the pan.

“Chris...”

He pulled the pan off the stove dumping the last pancake on the plate before placing the pan in the sink letting the cold water run over it before turning back to face you.

“I don’t...what do you want me to say” He started, raising his voice slightly, obviously flustered. “You want me to say I was drunk and didn’t know what I was saying? Because I cant okay, I can’t say that. Would I have said it if I were sober? No, probably not...in fact definitely not. But I did and I can’t take it back or just pretend I didn’t because I do love you, I’ve always loved you”

“I’ve always loved you too Chris” you looked up, your eyes connecting with his blue ones.

“Yeah, but not in the same way” he stepped around the counter standing in front of you now, his frame towering over yours.

“Said who”

“What”

“Who said I don’t love you in the same way?”

Chris lunged forward, one hand grasping your waist, the other coming up to cup your face as he leant down, his lips pressing against yours gently. It took you a second to realize what was happening before your hands found their way around his neck pulling him down to you, deepening the kiss.

From that day onward you became the friends who make out occasionally, it wasn’t the right time for you to try and be anything more, yes you loved each other, more deeply than you first understood but your lives were all over the place, you were rarely in the same city for more than a few weeks at a time and Chris’ career was exploding more than ever. It wasn’t the right time. So you’d both take what you could get when you could get it and that was enough for either of you.

It wasn’t until Chris’ 38th birthday a year later that you let things go any further. He had wanted a small celebration, so you had gone to dinner with a few friends, had a few drinks and then headed back to his place to watch a movie. You had been cuddled up on the couch, passing a beer back and forth between you when he placed it down on the coffee table, his hand sliding down your thigh, before pulling you into his lap. You had placed your knees on either side of his thighs, your hands on his shoulders while his trailed down your sides and over your hips before slowly moving to cup your ass. You leant down to place a soft kiss on his lips, him reattaching them as soon as you pulled away, biting your lower lip roughly.

There was something different in the way he was kissing you, the way he was touching you, more heat, more passion. Your hands were running down his chest as his grip on your ass tightened, holding you close to him, the intensity taking over. Before you knew it your shirt was on the floor and his hands were sliding up your back as your lips found their way to his neck. There was a tenacity in every movement, every touch, every kiss. His hands finding the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease and discarding it with your shirt on the floor. He pulled away slightly, his eyes raking over your body perched on top of him, eyes filled with need and want, pushing up to connect your lips once again as you could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against you through his jeans. His large hands sliding to your thighs before standing you both up, your legs wrapping around his waist, hands in his hair.

He stumbled his way into his bedroom laying you down on his bed placing a soft kiss to your lips before hurriedly kissing down the side of your neck and chest, between your breasts and down to your belly button stopping at the waist of your jean shorts, fingers dancing over the button as he looked up at you, eyes questioning as if to get the go ahead, you nodded gently. He slid your shorts and underwear down your thighs, discarding them and grabbing at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head before sliding off his jeans and boxers. You let your eyes trail his body as he situated himself between your legs leaning down to kiss you again.

“Are we really gonna do this” he laughed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“I think so” you blushed, eyes meeting his once again, yours filled with anticipation, his with desire.

When you woke up the next morning, your head on his chest, his fingers running through your hair, you didn’t know how to feel, but you knew things were moving into a far more complicated territory.

The two of you went on this way for a while, hanging out with friends and family as if nothing had changed, but when it was just the two of you it was different, intimate. When you were away from each other you facetimed daily, you shared everything, you always had but now it felt like everything you were used to but magnified. When he was gone you missed him, when you were together you felt complete. It was so familiar but so new at the same time. At this point you were dating without the title, which had been fine with you both, you liked what you had together it was easy, simple, no pressure.

In early August you had moved in, the apartment you rented was being sold and Chris insisted it would be helping him, and besides he had said, you were there whenever he was anyway. You had your own room but it was rarely used, most nights falling asleep together in Chris’ bed, both finding you slept better when you were together. It was one of those nights, curled up in his bed, Dodger at your feet, watching a rerun of some sitcom when Chris had asked you if you would go to Toronto with him the next month, his latest film Knives Out was premiering at the film festival there and he had been equal parts excited and nervous about it. You had been taken aback at first, sure you’d visited him on set before and attended a few premieres but this felt different.

“You want me to?” You sat up turning to face him.

“Obviously” he laughed “I’d take you everywhere with me if I could”

“Aww cute” you chuckled pinching his cheek as he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I have press a lot of the time, but you could hang out do some sight seeing, then come to the premiere with me?”

“With you...or with you?”

“Whichever one means I get to have you beside me on the red carpet”

“I don’t know Chris...you know that will start a shit storm” you knew how bad the rumours that had started when fans spotted you just attending the premiere for the last Avengers movie had been, and while it really didn’t bother you, you didn’t want it to have an affect on his career.

“Honestly? I don’t care.”

“Okay” you knew he wouldn’t say it but you could tell from his face that he was feeling anxious about it “I’ll come with you, but if you decide any time that you’d rather walk the carpet alone thats okay”

“I won’t” he reassured you, placing a kiss to your temple.

The day of the premiere came around quickly, Chris had been doing press for the past couple of days and you had spent most of your time exploring the cities sights. Chris held true to his word and didn’t change his mind about you walking the carpet with him. He had been a ball of nervous energy since you had woken up, you had left him eating breakfast to go take a shower and start getting ready for your day.

When you came out of the bathroom towel wrapped around you tightly, wet hair loose and ready to be dried you had found him pacing the hotel room in his underwear trying to keep himself busy, it was something that would put most people on edge but you had seen this so many times before with him, always getting in his head, always doubting himself and usually you were able to talk him down easily, but this time you had decided to try a different method.

Calling his name you let go of the grip you had on your towel letting it drop to the ground as he looked up having not previously noticed you had come back into the room, freezing instantly eyeing the curve of your body, a slight smirk across his face.

“What’s this for” he laughed as he closed the gap between you, hands finding your hips as you rested yours on his chest.

“You needed to get out of your head” you whispered as your lent up to kiss him, one hand sliding down his chest and finding its way into his boxers taking his length in your hand and stroking it slowly as you felt it harden beneath your grip. You pecked his lips before dropping to your knees on the plush hotel carpet pulling his boxers down with you. You pumped him a few more times with your hand before letting your tongue lick over his head tasting the saltiness of pre-cum. You took him halfway into your mouth, letting your warmth surround him before pulling off and sliding your tongue along the underside of his cock. Surrounding him with your mouth once more, this time dropping down deeper and with more intent, you hand finds its way to play with his balls, Chris letting out a breathy moan. You started to bob your head up and down as his hand found its way into your hair guiding you as his hips began to thrust, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each movement. It didn’t take long before he was warning you that he was about to cum, and cum he did, hard and fast right down your throat as you swallowed the taste of him before letting his cock slide out of your mouth. Chris pulled you up from the floor crashing his mouth into yours, tasting the remnants of himself on your tongue as he guided you back to the bed determined to make you cum just as hard as he had.

An hour later you found yourself in the shower for the second time that day, this time joined by Chris. You took your time, him massaging shower gel onto your back, while you reached up lathering and rinsing out the shampoo from his hair. You made sure to gently scrape your fingers along his scalp the way you knew, from many nights laying on the couch fingers curled in his hair as he fell asleep in your arms, relaxed him. Once you got out of the shower you realized Chris’ stylist and the hair and make up artist you had insisted on hiring yourself would be showing up any second.

By the time you were in the car waiting to pull up to the carpet Chris had seemingly relaxed, he held your hand the entire car ride over but you knew he was in a much better place mentally and that the second he got out he would turn on his charm and have everyone eating out of the palm of his hand the way he always did. When it was time to get out of the car Chris stepped out first leaning in to offer you his hand as you stepped out behind him, you could here the gasps of fans and media alike, all surprised that Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor had bought a date. Chris had pulled you into his side at the photo area, his hand on your hip as you placed yours on his chest posing for the cameras. You had been surprisingly pretty calm about the whole thing until that moment, cameras flashing in your face and paparazzi screaming from behind their barricade for you to look in twelve directions at once. It was overwhelming and something you don't think you could ever get fully used to.

“Just breathe” He whispered to you out of the side of his mouth, knowing that you had started to spiral.

After what felt like an hour but was probably ten minutes Chris’ team moved you along to the press portion of the carpet, you had expected to just stand back with the team while Chris answered questions from reporters from all of the different networks and publications but he had refused to let go of your hand as he approached the first reporter so you found yourself next to him through it all. Of course the first question was about you, and you just knew every headline tomorrow would mention it. It used to frustrate you, how the media would hone in on any female he was seen with, making the story about that and not the hard work he was doing, but you knew they were just trying to sell papers, page click and views.

“So who do you have here with you today” the reporter smiled tilting her head in your direction

“This is my best friend” Chris started before motioning for you to finish, that was one of the many things you had always loved about Chris, he never wanted you to feel like you were in his shadow, you had your own voice and you could use it. You introduced yourself to the reporter who asked a few questions about how you met and then switched to talking about the movie. After a few more interviews that went in a similar fashion you were escorted into the theatre for the screening, Chris took your hand as the two of you sat side by side in the theatre waiting for the film to start. You had enjoyed it a lot and really loved seeing this side of Chris’ acting ability. When the movie was done he joined some of the cast at the front of the theatre for a quick question and answer session for the attendees before you all headed to the after party.

Chris had introduced you to some of his cast mates, and reintroduced you to a few you had met previously during a quick visit to set one afternoon. You had downed a few glasses of champagne by the time you were ready to leave the party, tipsy but not quite drunk. The two of you found your way back to your hotel, and you laughed as you entered the elevator remembering something you had thought about mid interview earlier that day.

“What?” Chris laughed pushing the button for your floor and leaning against the back of the elevator, as you pulled off the heels that you hadn’t realized until that moment were killing your feet.

“Earlier...I almost made the worst comment in the middle of that E! Interview”

“....oh god what were you gonna say?” He chuckled, amused at your tipsy candour.

“Well you introduced me as your friend...”

“Yeah....” Chris laughed, looking at you as if to say that’s what we agreed on.

“Well, you say we are just friends, but friends...friends don’t know the way that you taste” you smirked at him pointedly, both remembering the activities of that morning.

Chris burst out laughing, his full belly laugh, hand coming up to his chest before reach across and pulling you into him, placing a kiss on your nose as the elevator doors opened on your floor.

“True” he mumbled before leading you down the hallway to your room, “that is true” he had one hand in yours the other holding your heels that he must have picked up on the way out of the elevator. “Well, how about next time I call you something else?” He started tone playful “This is my fuck buddy, no my slam piece, no thats too informal he laughed, girlfriend? No, hmm” He opened the hotel room door letting you slide in past him as he reached around to flip on the light switch closing the door behind him.

You stopped in the entry way a gasp leaving your lips. The room was filled with flowers. The pink and white Chrysanthemums filled every spare counter space, they had always been your favorite and Chris had sent you some for every birthday without fail. There were fairy lights lining the room and a small cart with a bottle of champagne on ice and chocolate covered strawberries by the window.

You turned back to Chris, your heart racing only he wasn’t where you expected....

“How about Wife?” Your eyes connected with his, where he was knelt on the floor behind you an open green velvet ring box in hand.

“What” was all you could get out.

“How about next time I call you my Wife. Marry Me?” Chris said, laughing at the shocked expression on your face “I’ve loved you for almost 20 years now, you’re the best thing in my life, and I never want to be without you...”

“Yes.” You said before you could even really think about it. “Yes!?!” You repeated realizing what was happening as Chris pulled the ring out of the box, sliding it onto your finger quickly before standing up to kiss you.

You’re not sure how long you stood there in the entry way making out, but when you pulled away you noticed that Chris’ eyes, like yours, were a little damp as you went to run your thumb across his cheek you caught a glimpse of the ring on your hand realizing you had barely even looked at it before it was on your hand. Chris pressed his lips into your hair holding you to his chest as you admired it. It was beautiful, delicate, subtle, it was just the kind of ring you would have chosen for yourself.

“Do you like it” Chris whispered into your hair

“I love it” you smiled up at him, lightly pressing your lips to his

“I love you” he smiled, not letting go of you.

“I love you too bestie” you giggled as he grabbed you around the waist lifting you over his shoulder and tapping your ass lightly as he took off towards the bedroom.