#he loves his brother and miss him so much

[beargyu313]

Heal my desire ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

This fic was heavily inspired by Riki’s mars placement (his whole tropical natal chart really)

⭑.ᐟ╰┈➤ Interpretation: He’s slow to act, but once he's sure, incredibly persistent.

˚.🎀༘⋆ Summary: Your younger brother Sunoo starts attending the same university as you. Along with him comes his childhood best friend Niki. Sparks begin flying between you two. Will you be able to keep your desire in check, or will it consume you instead?

ྀ. 𐙚 ̊ Word count: 12.7k

⋆˚࿔ Tags: fluff, slowburn-ish, eventual smut, brother’s best friend trope, older OC – younger Ni-ki,, smut tags: p in v, fem overstimulation, crying, ass eater Niki (he’s freaky), sexting, phone sex, slight praise kink, spanking, biting, chocking, obsessive sex, fem body worship

⋆˙♪ Playlist: emotional oranges – The Juice: vol. II (something about emotional oranges reminds me SO much of Riki)

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ A/N: first time I’ve written something of this length and emotional depth, feedback is appreciated<3 also planning a sunghoon fic next and I am open to hearing your reqs (it will most likely be an enemies to lovers)

You wouldn’t say going to university was the best thing that has happened to you – although it kind of was. As the oldest in your family, you never got to experience anything just for yourself, was never allowed to go anywhere without Sunoo tagging along.

It never really bothered you, at least until you came to uni. That was when you realized probably for the first time how freeing not looking after somebody actually was. For the first time in your life, you were allowed to put yourself first, not having to worry about anyone else. And it felt good.

You even got lucky with housing – getting an apartment close by your campus. You had your own bedroom and for the first two years a roommate as well. But since they graduated late, you were left with an empty room as the first semester started.

And in a way it was perfect. Because Sunoo got accepted into the same university as you, and since you didn’t currently have a roommate, it was simply assumed he would come to live with you.

You loved your younger brother, really you did. But somehow you couldn’t help but lowkey dislike the idea of him living with you. As soon as the thought hit you, you felt guilty, selfish. But as the day of his arrival grew closer, the feeling of resentment grew.

You couldn’t help it, even though you tried rationalizing with yourself – you lived with him before and it was okay, he was your brother! But at the same time, you hated how your parents just assumed he would come and live with you. Not even asking how you felt about it. And it brought up some deeply buried childhood feelings of forced passivity, of having to put other people before yourself.

The morning of his arrival was spent cleaning. Suddenly you noticed how much dust was sitting on the window frame, the overloaded kitchen counter and the dishes still in the skin.

It wasn’t like Sunoo would mind it or even notice it, but your mom would absolutely ask about it later on the phone, and you didn’t need another “You should set a good example” guilt trip on top of everything else.

By the time he rang the doorbell you were beyond frazzled. Exhausted. Still, you swallow down your feelings as you open the door. Trying to match Sunoo’s excitement.

“Noona!” he excitedly greets you, returning his hug you momentarily allow the familiar scent to calm you down.

“I missed you,” you honestly tell him. And that’s when you notice a tall figure entering behind Sunoo.

You do a double look as you realize who Sunoo brought with him. Niki walked in after Sunoo.

Very much not the same Niki you remembered.

He stepped through the doorway like he belonged there. His duffle bag slung over one shoulder, expression calm — even a little bored. And for a second, your brain couldn’t quite catch up.

Because it was Niki.

But taller. Leaner. Broader. Hair slightly longer. Clothes hanging off him in a way that made him look effortlessly cool. And suddenly you felt embarrassed for being in sweatpants, in your own home.

He met your eyes and — god help you — smiled. Not the gap-toothed, chipmunk-cheeked grin you remembered from middle school photos and summer sleepovers. This one was... different. A little crooked. Like he knew something you didn’t.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and smooth. “It’s been a while.”

It had. Too long, apparently.

Because somewhere in that space of a few years, Niki had evolved into the kind of guy that made your stomach do weird, panicked flips. And now he was standing in your apartment.

Like it was normal.

Like it was fine.

And it was fine, you remind yourself. Because this was the same Niki you’ve known practically your whole life. Same Niki who spent most of his summers over at your house, playing with Sunoo. Same Niki who would annoy you.

And just because he was hot, and not just hot but exactly your type kind of hot didn’t mean anything.

This was fine.

Forcing the sudden nervousness down, you beg yourself to speak like a normal person.

“Yeah, it has,” comes your stiff reply. But thankfully, Sunoo was great at smoothing over any initial awkwardness.

“You didn’t even clean up for us, huh? Love the hospitality, noona,” Sunoo teases.

“I did clean. Your face is just rude,” you scowl.

“Wow, the welcome committee is on fire today. Good thing I brought snacks. And Niki.”

“I told him not to announce me like I’m a prize he won,” Niki says, shrugging slightly, still looking at you. You gulp as you look away from him.

“Well. You do come with less mess than Sunoo, so… maybe a partial prize,” you speak, trying not to look at the way the black tank top hugged his waist, the low rise of his pants allowing his boxers to peek through.

“Okay, rude. You missed me,” Sunoo jabs back, used to your teasing.

“You were gone for three months, not three years,” you joke, even though you really did miss him.

“Nice place. Feels like you,” Niki steps past Sunoo, glancing around.

“…That’s either an insult or a compliment, and I’m too tired to ask.”

“Definitely a compliment,” he replies, the sincere tone making you momentarily pause.

“She’s blushing. Look at that. Niki, you broke her,” Sunoo laughs lightly, his eyes crinkling in what-would-be cute way if he wasn’t actively trying to annoy you.

“Shut up. Both of you,” you say, flustered. Leaving towards the kitchen.  

“Come on, I’m starving. Didn’t you say you’d make that pasta you used to do?” Sunoo asks as he follows behind you.

“I said no such thing.”

“You did cook, though. Smells good,” Niki comments.

“…It’s literally just pasta,” you say, hating the way he was making you feel. The overflow of compliments. His intense gaze. The way he looked so at home in your place.

“Still. I missed it.”

You try to brush off the flustered feeling his reply gives you. Cursing inwardly at his smoothness.

“You’re just trying to get on my good side,” you reply, desperate to stop this conversation.

“Am I succeeding?” Niki asks as he smiles down at you. That boyish smile, the kind that makes you shy.

“…You’re obnoxious,” you say as you lightly push him away. A small smile on your face.

“Okay, stop flirting, I’m begging. I can’t live with this already,” Sunoo interjects, and you can’t tell if he’s serious or just joking around. Because this was not happening with Niki. You wouldn’t allow it. And you doubt Sunoo would be this chill if he knew what was going through your head.

“You haven’t even unpacked yet and I already regret this,” sighing as you reveal your true feelings.

“Too late. You opened the door,” Niki smirks, and you’re reminded of the way you three used to joke around.  

“That’s not legally binding, you know,” you bite back with a smile.

“Pretty sure it is,” Niki says, wolfishly smiling down at you.

“So, pasta!” Sunoo interrupts.

And that’s how your first day with Sunoo as your roommate goes. Him and Niki spend the whole day in your apartment, asking you about anything and everything related to uni life. Which courses to take, which ones to avoid. About the extracurricular activities, the student-run café, even the annoying guy in the library who never returns his books on time.

Talking to both of them together was easy—too easy, actually. It reminded you of late summers and sleepovers and childhood in general, a time when everything felt both chaotic and safe.

For a moment, you even let your guard down, let yourself laugh like none of this bothered you. Like it didn’t throw your carefully built world off its axis to see Niki in your space, grown up and... confusing. You were sure that whatever weird feelings he brought up in you, was just because you hadn’t seen him for a long time, and the feeling would fade with time. It’s normal to be surprised when you see someone after a long time and they’ve grown up you convince yourself.

When they finally left to run errands and get their campus IDs sorted, you found yourself sitting in the quiet afterward, not quite sure what to do with yourself. There was pasta on the stove and two extra mugs in the sink. And a weird, fluttery feeling in your chest you pretended not to notice.

Later on in the evening when it’s just you and Sunoo, he brings Niki up.

“So. Be honest. Were you surprised?”

“About what?” you ask, genuinely not knowing what he’s alluding to.

Sunoo motions around as if it was the most obvious thing “Niki. I saw your face when he walked in. You looked like you’d seen a ghost. A tall, hot ghost.”

“I did not—shut up,” you lightly laugh as you deny.

But Sunoo’s quick wit catches on, “You’re not denying the ‘hot’ part, though.”

“Do you want me to poison your dinner next time or just salt it within an inch of its life?”

 “Knew you missed me,” Sunoo grins. He tosses the dishtowel onto the rack, clearly pleased with himself. You roll your eyes but your lips twitch.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The next time you see Niki, you aren’t expecting it.

It was your senior-year elective—an advanced movement and performance theory class that counted as a hybrid arts credit. You'd signed up partly for fun, partly because the professor was lenient, and mostly because you thought it would have nothing to do with anyone in your major.

Which is why your brain short-circuited a little when you walked in and saw Niki. Already sitting. Already acting like he belonged there.

“You're in this class?” you ask, as you walk up to him, clutching your bookbag to your chest.

“Yeah. You said this professor was easy,” he shrugs, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I didn’t say that to you,” you say, as you take a seat next to him.

Niki shrugs, “Sunoo has a big mouth.”

“I thought you were undeclared,” you reply after a beat of silence.

“I am. But I needed an elective. And I like movement.”

“Since when?” your eyes narrow, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Since always. You just never noticed,” says Niki softly, his eyes focused ahead of him. And if you didn’t know any better you would think he was uncomfortable by your questioning.

The classrooms buzz dies down as the professor steps to the podium. Mr. Park was probably in his late 30’s, at the latest in his mid 40’s. And the reason you like him was because he was very laid back, you also heard from your friends he never failed anyone and always had the same exam questions every year. Exactly the type of easy course you needed.

“Okay everyone, for the semester project you’ll be working in pairs. It’ll be a fusion-based piece—contemporary with any personal style you bring. We’ll workshop it every week. Final showcase is in December. Questions?” His voice booms, before murmurs start.

Oh no, it seems he changed his course this year. Just your luck.

You sense Niki leaning in and stubbornly refuse to look at him.

“You gonna ask or am I?” he quietly asks, his voice sounding even deeper once he’s this close to you.

“What?” you play dumb.

“You’re the only person I know here. And I’m not about to dance with some dude named Brett who wore tap shoes to a contemporary class.”

You side eye Niki, then glance at Brett quickly. You stifle your laugh when you notice his attire. Tap shoes and tights, seems someone was taking this class seriously.

You giggle as you look back at Niki, “Fine.”

“Knew you'd come around,” he smugly tells you. His face close enough that you can make out the moles o his face. And you know you’re fucked when your heart rate speeds up.

After the class ends you find yourself in the on-campus coffee shop. Sitting by the window as you passively scroll through your phone. Opening a text thread with your friend, you start typing.

you [7:04 PM] you will not believe who’s in my elective

bestie [7:04 PM] 👁️👄👁️ spill

you [7:05 PM] niki. as in sunoo’s childhood best friend niki as in awkward middle school sleepovers and cheetos w chopsticks niki as in... is hot now niki like. distressingly hot

bestie [7:06 PM] WAIT ??? TALL NIKI? LONG LEGS NIKI ?? I thought he vanished after that bowl cut era ???

you [7:06 PM] he did and then he reappeared like a final boss

bestie [7:06 PM] LMAOOO STOP wait how hot. scale of 1 to id ruin my life for him

you [7:07 PM] im already halfway to ruined he smelled like... clean laundry and sin also we’re dance partners now. for the entire semester 🙂🔫

bestie [7:08 PM] you’re done for. you’re LIVING THE YN LIFE

you [7:08 PM] no bc if sunoo finds out my soul will exit my body

bestie [7:09 PM] sunoo doesn’t need to know unless you two are messing around 👀

Your stomach swoops as you read the last message. Flustered you send the last messages as you get ready to head home.

you [7:09 PM] BLOCKED REPORTED IM GOING HOME

You return back to your apartment, the front door softly clicking shut behind you. Sunoo texted you he’ll be home later, some orientation thingy keeping him preoccupied. The apartment is bathed in the orange hues of the sunset and you savor in the stillness and peace.

You sink into the couch, the memory of Niki creeping unwantedly in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about his pretty smile, about his deep voice – seriously his voice used to be so high pitched, this new version of Niki was giving you a whiplash.

Still. I missed it

Your mind drifts back to your conversation, but before you could fully spiral, you pick up the remote to numb your mind with some stupid TV show. Forcing yourself to think away any thoughts of tall boys who smell nice.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

You’re already stretching when Niki walks into the dance studio practice room. His white hoodie sleeves pushed up, black hair still slightly damp from a quick shower. He tosses his bag down with practiced ease, giving you a nod and a small grin that makes your stomach do an unhelpful flip.

Niki slicks the hair out of his face, in a casual manner addressing you as he puts a snapback hat on.

"You came early. Planning to show me up?"

You smile at him as you watch him start stretching in front of you. His hoodie rising dangerously when he stretches his arms above his head.

"Somebody’s gotta carry this partnership."

 "Bold of you to assume it's not me," Niki smirks, watching you through the mirror.

You raise an eyebrow, but he just shrugs, dropping into a low stretch like he’s been doing this forever. You try not to stare, but he’s focused, surprisingly flexible. It’s hard not to notice how graceful his movements are. Like he knows exactly how much attention he’s drawing—and doesn’t care.

And that’s the part that gets you. His effortless nonchalance, it makes you feel as if he’s only halfway present with you, your mind wandering to dangerous thoughts of how you could make him fully focus on you.

The professor sent demo videos last night. You’d both agreed on All That Matters—partly because of the flowy R&B tempo, partly because neither of you wanted anything too theatrical.

You click play on the speaker, and Niki stands, holding a hand out toward you.

"Ready to stop pretending we don’t have chemistry?" he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised in an attractive manner.

You scoff, "Ready to focus, maybe," but let him pull you up anyway. His touch electrifying.

The first moves are slow — light footwork and mirrored movements. Easy to get through without contact. But then the bridge hits, and the choreography shifts.

He steps into your space without hesitation. A hand on your waist to turn you. You freeze, barely a second, but it’s enough for Niki to notice the shift. Quizzically looking at you in question.

"Sorry. Just… tired," you unconvincingly say, a slight shiver running down your spine where Niki’s hand rests.

He doesn’t push, but his hand lingers a moment too long. His intense gaze piercing right through you. As if he doesn’t believe you – but he doesn’t push it.

You move through the sequence again. This time, your hands brush. His palm slides against your lower back. You react less, but goosebumps appear on your arms. He notices that, too. And thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

You try to ration – you’re only being like this because you haven’t gotten laid in a long time. Definitely not because you find Niki insanely attractive.

When you pause to get water, you catch yourself watching him — really watching — the way his jaw clenches when he counts under his breath, the way his shirt rides up slightly when he stretches.

You look away fast. Hope he doesn’t notice.

But he does. Because unbeknownst to you he always noticed everything about you. Has been noticing, ever since you were kids. But he never made any moves on you, you never seemed interested before. Which worked, because he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Sunoo by fucking things up with you.

It did make him wonder what changed for you, or was he only imagining things in his head. That’s why he doesn’t call you out, only walking past you with a quiet "Same time next week?"

"Yeah" you nod, your voice coming out more breathless and softer than you intend.

He gives you one last unreadable look. Then leaves.

And your brain won’t stop replaying the exact placement of his hand on your waist.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

On the weekend you are cooped up in your apartment with Sunoo and Niki. The later coming over with the intention of just hanging out with Sunoo. But once the evening sneaks up and he still isn’t ready to leave he finds himself in front of your shut bedroom door.

He ponders for a moment before softly knocking.

“Come in,” comes your muffled voice, and he opens the door. He doesn’t know what he expected your room to look like but somehow it’s very much you. A neatly made bed in the corner, white dresser and your desk. Where you were sitting right now.

You had little trinkets all over your room, a few plants on the window still. It made Niki feel cozy and warm, everything reminded him of you.

“Hey,” he greets, scratching his neck as he’s suddenly unsure of himself.

“Thought we could get an early start on our theoretical part of the project?” he asks you and that’s how you find yourself on the floor, knees brushing with Niki’s as you two do research on your laptop.

Niki’s quiet presence lulls you into a comfortable silence as you two work, his voice breaking you out of your concentration.  

“Still mad I showed up with Sunoo?” he softly asks, his voice hiding a certain tenderness, vulnerability.

“I was never mad. Just… surprised,” you tell him, your gaze still focused on your laptop screen.

He hums, “Sunoo said you weren’t thrilled. That you liked having the place to yourself.”

“It’s not that I don’t want him here. I just... finally got used to things being mine. My time. My space. It’s stupid,” you sigh.

“It’s not stupid.” A beat passes before he speaks again, “You’ve always looked out for him. For everyone, really.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of the problem,” you say, trying to joke but your voice sounding too somber even to your own ears.

You don’t know what you expected from Niki. You thought he’d be fun, maybe a little cocky. You didn’t expect… this. Didn’t expect him to look at you like he actually wants to know you. To listen. And most surprisingly, like he actually understood you.

A long silence stretches between you two, both deeply in your thoughts, before Niki breaks it again.

“…For what it’s worth, I’m not trying to mess that up. I can keep out of your way,” Niki tells you.

“…You don’t have to,” you softly tell him, finally meeting his eyes. And something in your chest tugs—painfully tender.

He really meant that. He’d leave if you asked.

He holds your gaze for a second longer, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slowly, he nods.

You look away first. Of course you do. Your throat’s too tight.

You both go back to your screens, pretending to work again. But something has shifted between you two.

A few minutes pass. And this time you’re the one who breaks the stretching silence.

“You’re not supposed to be this tolerable, you know.”

He huffs a laugh, “I get that a lot.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

In weeks that follow you and Niki fall into a routine. Joint dance practices between just the two of you every Thursday, and your dance class with everyone on Tuesdays.

It is a Tuesday currently, meaning the whole class is in session. Instead of a lecture hall you’re all in a dance studio today, your professor wanting to see how everyone is progressing.  

Class is coming to an end and you’re picking up your water bottle from the side of the room when you spot him.

Niki is standing near the mirrors, still in his dance clothes, grinning at something a classmate next to him says, Eunchae you think. She’s twirling a strand of hair around her finger, clearly enjoying the conversation.

He says something back—low and easy—and she laughs, a little too loud. He doesn’t even flinch. Just leans a little closer, one hand tucked into his hoodie pocket.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, as you unknowingly burn holes into the two of them.

It’s fine.

It’s whatever. It’s normal to be overprotective of Niki – you’ve known him for forever you rationalize.

You scroll through your phone like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world, trying not to look. But your ears are burning. Your face feels hot.

Your friend in this class – Daniela – appears beside you, watching you not-watch them.

“You okay?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

You scoff. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re burning a hole in the back of Niki’s head,” she easily replies, glancing to look at him over her shoulder.

You wave her off, voice too breezy. “Please. She’s not even his type.”

Daniela stares. “You know his type?”

“I mean, obviously he goes for girls who—like—giggle like it’s a sport and wear matching yoga sets. He’s literally 19. He probably thinks lip gloss counts as a personality.”

Daniela blinks. “…Girl.”

You frown. “What?”

“You’re jealous,” she deadpans.

“No, I’m not,” you deny suspiciously fast.

“No, you definitely are.”

You scoff again, louder this time. “Okay, can we not? It’s Niki. He’s just—he’s a kid.”

Daniela doesn’t even dignify that with a response. She just gives you the look. The one that says You’re lying and we both know it.

You refuse to meet her eyes.

From across the room, Niki catches your gaze and gives you a little nod—like a casual hey, you good?

You roll your eyes and turn away, heart suddenly racing for no reason you’re willing to admit.

You’re still reeling later in your room. The day exhausted you more than it should. And it was barely 4 p.m. You wanted nothing more than to just lay down and not think or do anything for a little while. At least not until Niki comes over later in the evening, you two having made plans to go over theory together.

Your phone buzzes and you seriously contemplate ignoring the call, but relent once the caller calls you again when you fail to pick up the first time.

Incoming Call: Sunoo 🍊 it reads on the caller ID.

You sigh and answer.

“You better be dying,” you say, exhaustion creeping in your voice.

Sunoo doesn’t seem to notice as he brightly asks (read: expects) you to do him a favor;  “Not dying. Just forgot my charger and my USB. And since you’re the best sister in the world you would bring them over to me?”

You are already starting to stand up, before he even finishes speaking. “Remind me why I’m not charging you rent?”

Sunoo laughs at that, “Because you love me.”

“True,” you softly reply, leaving your apartment and heading all the way over to Sunoo. Just an almost 30 minute walk, no biggie for someone who’s already so tired of this day.

You’re back home, in under an hour. Hair windswept, limbs heavy, stomach sour from scarfing down cafeteria fries while speed-walking half a mile. Not wanting to leave Niki waiting, since you were currently almost running late.

You drop your bag onto the floor, letting out an exaggerated groan as you sink onto the carpet in your living room.

Niki is already seated there and he watches you with that unbothered little tilt to his head.

“Long day?” he asks gently.

You shoot him a look, but it lacks bite. “Understatement of the year.”

He scoots over, making space for your laptop, but doesn’t press. Just gives you space and waits.

You both work in silence for a few moments before you speak again.

“Sometimes I wonder if people only know how to need me,” your voice is quiet. Unraveling.

Niki looks up from his screen. Doesn’t interrupt.

You laugh, bitter. “Sunoo called me earlier because he forgot his charger and USB and somehow that meant I had to drop everything and bring it. Like I’m campus tech support or something.”

A beat passes and then words start pouring out of you. “It’s not just him. It’s everyone. Professors. Classmates. Family. I say yes before I even think about it. And then I hate myself for feeling resentful after,” you don’t realize you’re shaking a little until you feel Niki’s gaze on you. Grounding you back into this moment with him, where it’s just you two.

Then he says, calm as always “You’re allowed to want space.”

You blink. The words are so simple they shouldn’t make your chest ache the way they do. But they land like a soft punch.

“You always take care of everyone. I don’t think anyone’s ever asked if you needed it too,” Niki continues and you wonder when he became so …wise, so observant of you.

Silence. The kind that’s full, not empty.

You don’t cry. But you do go still. Like something inside you just… let go.

When you finally meet his eyes, he’s already looking at you. Like he’s been looking this whole time.

“…Thanks,” you say, barely audible. “For seeing that. For not making me explain it.”

He just gives a quiet little nod. No smile. Just that same steady presence. Like he’s saying I’ve got you. Even if you don’t ask.

Your knee brushes his. And Niki wraps an arm around your shoulder pulling you close to him. You don’t flinch away this time – instead allowing yourself to soak in this moment.

It is only after you’ve let out a long exhale that you pull away.

“We should get back to this,” you say and miss the look Niki shoots in your direction.

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on this moment. No, instead you drown yourself in school work in the following days.

You're walking across campus with Daniela. The air smells like warm pavement and coffee—students are sprawled on lawns, music drifting from a Bluetooth speaker somewhere nearby.

You clutch your iced drink a little tighter as you talk, like that’ll cool the heat pooling low in your stomach from thoughts you’re not supposed to be having.

Daniela nudges you gently with her elbow. “So… what’s going on with you and your brother’s hot friend?”

You snort. “Nothing’s going on.”

She gives you a look.

You take a long sip, buying yourself a second. “I mean, even if I liked him—which I don’t—I wouldn’t do anything. He’s younger. And Sunoo’s best friend.”

Daniela slows her steps. “That’s your reason?”

“It would just… complicate things,” you say, waving your hand like you’re brushing it off. “He’s literally nineteen, Dani.”

“What, and you’ve suddenly become eighty?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Daniela looks at you for a beat, the kind of look that says okay, but you’re lying to yourself and I’m letting you. “Whatever you say.”

You don’t see him—Niki, standing behind the open glass door of the student lounge just off the path. He was on his way out. Until he heard your voice.

He doesn’t move. Just stands there, frozen.

The words Even if I liked him—which I don’t keep echoing in his ears. Over and over.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just leaves.

And you… never even knew he was there. You and Daniela reach the classroom taking a seat just before the professor arrives.

You’re confused as you look for Niki, he was never late. And yet, he steps through the door 20 minutes later and you move your stuff from the seat you were saving for him. Flabbergasted you watch him as he straight up ignores you, sitting somewhere else instead.

Weird. He always sat with you, but maybe he just didn’t see you…

The lesson was probably the most boring one so far, with you being used to talking through them with Niki. But now as you sit by yourself you find yourself staring at him.

He returns your gaze and there's a flicker of something you can’t read. Something almost guarded. But you’re probably just imagining it, he’s probably just tired or something.

The next day you receive a message from him, saying he can’t come over, because something came up. You don’t push it, but you can’t deny the pang of hurt that shoots through you, doubt setting in.

It doesn’t help when a couple of days later Sunoo mentions in passing, “has Niki’s been weird? You guys good? He hasn’t really talked about the project much.”

And you shrug it off, but you can feel that something is off, that he’s distancing himself from you. So you give him space. To cool off, for whatever it is you might have done.

Until you can’t take it anymore.

It happens when you two meet in the practice room. And Niki’s so obviously acting different. He doesn’t joke. Doesn’t tease. Keeps distance physically.

You don’t look at him when you walk to the center of the room. You don’t have to—you can feel the tension in the space between you already.

The choreo isn’t easy. It’s intimate, breathless, full of weight shifts and skin contact. The kind of dance that demands vulnerability, trust, proximity.

But Niki barely says a word.

He mirrors your movements with precision, his body effortlessly falling into rhythm with yours. He doesn’t look at you—but when his hand finds your waist during a partnered lift, you feel it linger a fraction too long.

His fingers accidentally slip under your shirt when he lifts you up. You shiver. Not from cold, but from how badly you wish you didn’t care.

You’re breathless for reasons that have nothing to do with exertion.

Still, something’s off. You’re off.

You mess up a foot placement during a turn. Miss the beat on a drop. And worst of all—you flinch when he touches you again.

That’s when he finally speaks.

Low voice. Quiet, but firm.

“You always think too much.”

You blink, startled.

He steps a little closer—close enough to feel the heat of his skin, but still not touching you. Not really.

“You dance better when you stop trying to be perfect.”

You meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like days—and he doesn’t look away.

Something in your stomach flips. The version of him you’ve been trying not to miss is right there. Not teasing, not cold—but unreadable, unreachable.

Strong. Steady. Saying things that cut a little too close.

You open your mouth to respond, but he steps back.

And just like that, his walls go up again.

You ask, in a snappier tone than you intend to.

“Did I do something?”

But Niki shrugs.

“No,” he says, not meeting your eyes.

You hate it, hate this, wish he would just go back to the way he was. The lingering touches, sneaking glances at you, making you laugh.

You miss him even if he is right next to you. Somehow it would’ve been better, you bitterly think, if you two fought – not whatever this was, you couldn’t stand it.

You force a small smile, trying again.

“Seriously, though. You’ve been weird since…” you pause, searching his face “…is it because of something I did?”

Niki shrugs again, and you want to scream when he hits you with another “no,” still avoiding your gaze.  

“You sure? Because it kind of feels like I did,” you quietly say.

“It’s nothing. We should focus,” finally meeting your eyes, but his voice sounded flat, devoid of the usual warmth.

You nod, but the air between you two is tense. Silence cracks around the edges every time you try to fill it.

Later – after practice is over and you’re back home – you’re walking from the kitchen to your room, Sunoo’s voice echoes from the kitchen, playful but pointed.

“By the way, Eunchae said you and Niki make a cute team,” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, “she was definitely fishing if he’s single, just saying.”

You half laugh, but it feels hollow to your own ears.

“Oh yeah? Let her shoot her shot, I guess,” you say it casually — but something tightens in your chest.

You close the door of your bedroom and pull your knees to your chest, sitting on the bed. Your room dim.

Why did it feel like you lost something you never even had?

You don’t know it but Niki is standing in the hallway just outside your apartment door, earphones in but not playing any music.

His face unreadable. Except for the way his jaw is tight. And the way he closes his eyes like he’s trying not to care.

But he can’t get the imagine of the longing in your eyes every time you looked at him. The way your eyes would narrow anytime Eunchae came up to him.

And that’s when it hits him you’re not rejecting him — you’re rejecting the idea of them.  Suddenly the realizations don’t stop.

I make her nervous. She feels something. She’s lying to herself.

Let me remind her what it feels like when I’m close.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It’s class break and you’remid-convo with Daniela, laughing at something dumb. When you look across the classroom, Niki is standing by the door with Eunchae. He's listening politely, nodding at whatever she's saying—but he's not really with her.

His eyes are already on you.

Not staring. Not smirking. Just... watching. Still. Unapologetic. Like he’s reading a language only you speak.

You blink, unsettled.

He doesn’t look away.

Then, Daniela touches your arm, affectively breaking the moment.

After class ends, you brush past him on your way to the bathroom. It’s a tight hallway. You’re not even sure he’s going to acknowledge you, because he’s been like this—off. Too cool. Too quiet.

But then his hand brushes the small of your back as you pass. Not a tease. Not a game.

A claim.

You freeze for half a second, breath caught. Look over your shoulder— but he's already walking away.

You come out of the bathroom, scrolling through your phone as you wait for Sunoo, arms folded, head buzzing from the tension.

Niki appears beside you, “hey.”

“I didn’t think you’d say hi today,” you mutter, trying not to sound bothered.

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you wanted me to.”

You smile, faint. “You always let people decide that for you?”

He lets out the smallest laugh. “No. Just you.”

Your heart stutters. But you don’t look away.

He pushes off the wall and steps closer—slow, easy. Like he’s giving you time to move if you want to.

You don’t.

“I know what you’ve been telling yourself,” he says, eyes not leaving yours.

“That I’m too close. That it’s messy. That it wouldn’t work.”

You lift your chin slightly. “And?”

“And…” His voice softens, “…you keep looking at me like you want it to.”

You don’t answer right away. You feel it, that shift in the air—how close you both are to crossing whatever line you’ve drawn.

You study him. The way he’s not pushing, not assuming. Just waiting.

Quietly certain.

So you say it, “You think I don’t want this?” Your voice is soft, but sure. Steady.

His expression flickers—just a little.

You take a small breath. “I do.”

Another pause, “I just… I didn’t know if I should.”

He exhales, almost like he’s been holding it in. His hand grazes the back of his neck, a flicker of nervousness showing through.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” you add. And you mean it. “Not with you.”

For a moment, everything’s still. Then he says it—quiet and careful “Then don’t. Just let it happen.”

The corners of your mouth lift, despite yourself.

“Just once?” you ask, teasing lightly—but there’s sincerity in your eyes.

He grins, the first real one today, and it does something to you.

“Start with that,” he says.

You nod. Almost imperceptibly. But he sees it.

That night, your phone buzzes.

 Kii<3 [10:25 PM]

Pick you up Friday?

 You [10:27 PM]

Yeah.

You stare at your screen a beat longer than necessary. The tiny word — yeah — feels too small for what’s unraveling in your chest.

Because now it’s real. This thing between you. Not hypothetical, not flirtation buffered by excuses or safe distance. A real date. With Niki.

You press your phone to your chest and lie back, heart wild beneath your ribs. You’re nervous — obviously — but not in a way that makes you want to pull back. It's the kind of nervous that comes with possibility. The kind that reminds you you're alive. And beneath it, something warmer hums: excitement.

You can’t believe this is happening. That he wants this. That you said yes. That after all the circling and second-guessing, this is where you landed.

It’s terrifying. It’s dizzying. And it’s so much better than anything you ever let yourself hope for.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Friday evening.

You almost cancel.

You open your wardrobe, stare at your reflection, then close it again. Twice. Your hands hover over your phone more than once, thumb twitching toward his contact.

But then you force yourself to pull it together, deciding on a low crop top and a black skirt.

He’s already waiting when you step outside — parked just at the curb, leaning against the passenger side of his car. Streetlight catching on the edges of his hair, hands in the pockets of a jacket you’ve seen him wear a thousand times but never like this.

He straightens the second he sees you. Not obvious, but enough. His gaze trails down, slow — not in a possessive way, but reverent. Like he’s genuinely trying to commit this version of you to memory.

You’re suddenly warm everywhere.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is too casual for how intensely he’s looking at you.

You arch a brow. “You’re staring.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Yeah. So are you.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips out, nerves tangled in it. “Don’t start already.”

He opens the car door for you, dipping his head close as you slide in. “Can’t help it,” he murmurs, low. “I’ve been waiting to look at you like this.”

Your breath stumbles. You don’t answer—just smile, tucking it into the warmth.

The drive is quiet in the most perfect way. His car smells faintly like him—clean, a little musky, like cedar and laundry and something unmistakably his. A soft R&B playlist drifts through the speakers.

You sneak looks at him when you think he’s not paying attention. His hand on the gearshift. The subtle way his jaw flexes when he focuses on the road. His thumb tapping along to the beat.

He catches you once, glancing over with the ghost of a smile.

“You look really pretty,” he says, almost shy. It’s not the kind of compliment that’s thrown out for effect. It lands warm, soft.

You laugh, nerves bubbling out. “You’re not too bad either.”

He grins. “Had to. Big night.”

By the time you reach the rooftop bar, the sky’s already in a blue-lavender stretch before night truly falls. Warm lights hang overhead, swaying gently. The music’s changed to something jazzy and slow, but it fits—like the world decided to match your pacing.

You’re seated in a quiet corner, the city stretching far beneath. He doesn’t look at the menu before ordering for you—he just knows.

Your drink arrives exactly the way you like it.

And when you ask, teasing, “You just memorize everyone’s drink order?”

He leans in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Only yours.”

You’re already laughing, cheeks flushed, the world softening at the edges.

His fingers brush yours. It’s not accidental. It’s intentional. A question he doesn’t ask out loud.

You don’t pull away.

There’s a little silence before you tease, “What, you stalking my habits now?”

“I’m cataloguing the things that make you smile,” he replies without missing a beat.

And you do smile. You try not to, but you do. It bubbles up before you can stop it. And that just makes him grin wider.

“Stop,” you say, hiding behind your cup.

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are.” He leans on his elbow, chin in his hand. “You always do that when you like something but don’t wanna admit it.”

“Now you’re making things up.”

“Now you’re avoiding the fact that you like me.”

You meet his eyes. And for a second, neither of you laughs. It lands deeper than it should. Like the words found a door you didn’t mean to leave cracked open.

You don’t say anything. Not yet. But your silence is a different kind now—not pulling away, just… caught.

And he doesn’t push. He just lets it be, the way he always seems to know how to.

You leave the bar after you two finish your drinks. The warm air inviting you on a walk. The city buzzes around you — soft traffic, neon flickers, the low hum of people living their lives — but you don’t really hear any of it. Not when you’re standing close enough to bump shoulders and not bother stepping away.

He reaches for his phone. “Smile.”

You do. Without thinking.

He takes a picture. You try to grab his phone to see it, laughing, but he slips it back into his jacket.

“Let me see!”

He shakes his head. “Not posting it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s just for me.”

You go quiet. Something in your stomach flips.

You stop under a streetlamp.

The light catches on his cheekbones, soft gold spilling over his lashes, his mouth, his collarbones peeking through the neck of his sweatshirt. He looks like something out of a dream. Which is annoying, because dreams aren’t supposed to smirk at you like that.

You cross your arms, partly to brace yourself. Partly because your heart won’t chill out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, trying to sound unaffected.

Niki tilts his head, slow. “Like what?”

“Like you know something I don’t.”

“I do,” he says, easy. “I know how good you look under this light.”

You roll your eyes. But you're smiling now, and he sees it. He always does.

“You’re not slick, Niki.”

“I don’t have to be,” he says, and damn it, that grin should be illegal.

Your chest is tight in a way that’s too much and just right. You step in without realizing, close enough that chest touch. He holds onto your wait. You glance up—and he’s already watching you.

Not in that heavy, intense way he sometimes does. It’s softer now. But still locked in. Like he’s trying not to blink.

“This is weird,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “In a good way. I just… didn’t think this would ever actually happen.”

He leans in just a bit, voice low but warm. “Been thinking about it for weeks.”

“You’re such a simp.”

“Only for you,” he says, and there’s zero hesitation in it.

It knocks the breath right out of you.

He holds your gaze for one long, humming second. You can feel the tension hovering between your mouths like a question waiting to be asked.

“If I kiss you right now,” he says, voice barely above the buzz of the city, “you gonna regret it?”

You shake your head. A little too fast.

“Good.”

And then he leans in.

You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until he closes the last inch between you.

His hand finds your waist. Yours tangle in the front of his hoodie. And then—

He kisses you.

Not soft. Not tentative.

It’s hungry. Like he’s been holding back for weeks and the dam just cracked wide open. His mouth moves over yours like he’s trying to make sense of it, memorize it, own it. And you kiss him back just as fiercely—hands fisting in the fabric at his chest, pulling him closer, chasing the taste of him like it might undo you.

It’s too much. Not enough. Your thoughts dissolve. You don’t know where his breath ends and yours begins. The world’s gone blurry around the edges.

You gasp into his mouth when his fingers slide up, brushing your jaw, anchoring you there like he needs you solid in his hands. Like this isn’t real unless he’s touching you.

He groans—quiet, but guttural—and the sound shoots straight down, between your thighs.

You break apart just long enough to suck in air, both of you breathing like you just ran a mile.

His forehead tips to yours.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked and still out of breath. “We have to stop.”

You blink, still tasting him on your lips, dazed. “What?”

He shakes his head, eyes still closed. Like he’s fighting himself. His hands gripping your hips tightly.

“We have to stop. Or I’m not gonna be able to.”

You feel it in your knees. In your stomach. In everywhere.

He pulls back a fraction, gaze finding yours. His hands don’t leave your body, but they don’t wander either. Just… steady. Present. Hot with restraint.

“This isn’t how I want to do this,” he says, low. “Not like this. Not in a rush. You deserve better than that.”

You exhale shakily. He’s right. You hate that he’s right. And you love that he cares enough to be right.

Still, it takes you a second to find your voice.

“So what now?”

His thumb brushes your cheek. “Now I walk you to the car.”

He smiles. Kind of breathless. Kind of wrecked. Like you just rewired something in him.

“And then I go home and try really hard not to think about how good you taste.”

You grin, heart thudding. “You’re not gonna succeed.”

He raises a brow. “Not even a little.”

And this time, when you link your fingers with his, it’s easy. His larger hand engulfing yours. His shoulder keeps bumping into yours as you walk, and by the time you reach his car you’re safely tucked under his arm. Your torso to his side. And for the first time in a long time you feel alive.

You’re still on the buzz as you get ready for bed. Too lazy before to take off your makeup and change out of your clothes. Just as you’re about to head into the bathroom your phone pings and a grin unknowingly stretches over your face.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the quickly awakening tingles between your legs, as you read over Niki’s message. The memory of his lips on yours, his hands all over you replaying through your mind.

Kii<3 [11:12 PM] you still wearing that skirt from tonight?

You [11:13 PM] Yeah,, want a little preview

Kii<3 [11:14 PM] fuck yes don’t keep me waiting

You stand in front of the mirror, twirling as you try to find a pretty angle. You settle on you looking over your shoulder into the mirror, your hip popped in a way that accentuates your butt.

You [11:15 PM] Like it?

You ask after you watch his message bubble appear and disappear.

Kii<3 [11:16 PM] damn you’re unreal

im switching the phone to my left hand

You [11:17 PM] wait till you see what comes next

You giddly type, sitting on your bed – legs straddling the duvet underneath you as you eye one of your decorative pillows.

Kii<3 [11:18 PM] im ready. What’re you doing right now?

You [11:19 PM] sitting on my bed, got a pillow nearby…

Kii<3 [11:20 PM] want you to straddle it

You gulp when you read his text, already adjusting your position as you  listen to his instructions. You can feel your underwear already sticking to you as you shift over the pillow. You gasp as you sit on the pillow, the wetness uncomfortable where it touches your skin.

You [11:21 PM] you’re crazyyy,, want me to take my panties off?

Kii<3 [11:21 PM] fuck yes

Your pussy clenches at his eager response. Imagining him in his own room, dick in his hand. You’re quick to move. Standing up you slide the panties down your legs, throwing them in the corner of your room. You contemplate taking off your skirt when you read the next message.

Kii<3 [11:22 PM]

show me everything, im so hard rn

You [11:23 PM] you like it? Decided to keep the skirt on..

but I don’t mind taking it off for you

You type, the photo you sent taken from an angle above. Your skirt is bunched at your waist, the fluffy pillow under you glaringly obvious. One of your hands is playfully pinching a nipple between your fingers, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes are half lidded, cheeks covered in a natural blush.

Kii<3 [11:24 PM] baby you’ve got me losing it over here

You [11:25 PM] Good. That’s exactly the plan

lemme see u too

You send and regret it almost immediately when you see his reply. Niki with his hoodie pulled up, covering his hair. His eyes incredibly dark, barely in the frame. At the center of the photo is his hand, rings covering his fingers. But that’s not where your focus lies.

You stare at his leaking cock. Standing proud as he holds it in his hand, veins visible as the slick of his pre-cum shines on every detail of his cock.

Before you even realize it, you’re moving on your pillow. You’re desperate to reach your release, so much so that you don’t reply to his photo.

Your ringing phone breaks you out of your humping and you momentarily pause your ministrations as you pick up.

“Liked it that much baby?” Niki teases you, his deep voice making your stomach swoop and pussy clench around nothing.

You whine, adjusting the corner of the pillow right under your entrance.

“You have no idea,” you rasp, “I’m gonna finger myself, the pillow isn’t really doing it for me.”

“Figured,” he replies, voice strained and muffled, “next time I’ll be the one doing that.”

“Yeah Niki? Wanted your fingers tonight,” you breathe, trying to keep it down – you didn’t want Sunoo to hear you.

“Fuck princess, I wanted it too, wanted to fuck you in my backseat, not caring who sees us,” Niki eggs you on.

And the image of you and Niki in his backseat. You straddling him and his hands all over you has you reaching your climax.

You moan, louder than you realize, “next time, ‘kay?”

“Next time what, use your words,” Niki gruffs and you hear shuffling in the background.

“Fuck me next time we see each other,” you gasp.

“Please,” you whine into the phone, “fuck fuck fuck, I’m close Niki. Are you close too?”

Your pretty noises make Niki furiously tug on his cock, you hear a small curse and then nothing.

After a beat Niki speaks, his voice breathless “next time, princess. I promise.”

Your phone call ends shortly after but no matter how many more times you make yourself cum that night it’s not enough. It doesn’t satisfy the ache you feel any time you try to stop touching yourself.

Frustrated you force yourself to try and sleep it off. When morning comes you’re a mess. Barely slept.

It’s not until Monday when you see Niki again – one of his family members had their birthday and hence he was absent over the weekend.

You see him before he sees you.

Just for a second—tall, hood up, bag slung low—his gaze flicking through the crowd. The second your eyes meet, something shifts. It’s subtle, but it knocks the breath right out of your lungs.

You thought texting would be enough. It wasn’t. Not even close.

Now here he is, in the middle of a bustling hallway—shoulders tense, mouth parted like he’s about to say something, but you both already know there’s no time. Your next class starts in three minutes, and someone’s already calling your name.

He doesn’t stop walking. Neither do you. But as you pass each other, your hands brush, and your bodies lean in just enough to feel the heat crackle between you.

You barely glance up, but you feel it—his eyes, dragging down the side of your face, to your mouth, to the line of your collar. And for a second you swear he’s about to grab your wrist and pull you somewhere you can’t be seen.

But he doesn’t.

Because right then, someone falls into step beside you, Sunghoon—a guy from class, talking about a group project. You murmur something polite, eyes still locked with Niki’s across the hallway.

You see it hit him. The flash of irritation. The stiff set of his jaw. His pace slows just a fraction, like his body won’t let him leave it alone.

You feel it too—the ache, the itch under your skin that hasn’t gone away since Friday night. Like your body knows it’s his you’re still wanting.

You don’t say a word. You just keep walking.

But you know exactly where this is going.

And so does he.

Just a few minutes before the class ends you pull the phone out of your bag, suppressing a smile as you see a text from Niki.

Kii<3 [1:32 PM] who’s the guy

you [2:39 PM] chill 😭 just sunghoon from my seminar we’re in a group project together

Kii<3 [2:39 PM] and you had to smile at him like that?

You roll your eyes at his dramatics as you write your reply. Holding your phone under the desk so the professor doesn’t see you texting.

you [2:40 PM] you’re ridiculous 😭 it wasn’t even like that also you literally walked past me and didn’t say shit

Kii<3 [2:41 PM] i was one second away from grabbing you right there in the hallway but i didn’t want to start a scandal

You clench your thighs together as your imagination goes wild. You two would definitely be trying it, in the near future.

you [2:41 PM] oh so you do have some self-control color me shocked

Kii<3 [2:42 PM] barely meet me after class we need to talk

you [2:42 PM] “talk”? 👀 should i be scared or excited

Kii<3 [2:43 PM] yes. ill be outside your building don’t make me wait

you [2:44 PM] i wouldn’t dare

Kii<3 is typing... Kii<3 [2:46 PM] better not bc the second we’re alone im making you forget his name

You’re only half surprised when you step out of the class 14 minutes later to see Niki waiting for you. The hallway outside your lecture room buzzes with students, the air heavy with end-of-day chatter and the scrape of sneakers. You step out mid-convo with Sunghoon, who’s animated about some shared group project, gesturing with his hands. You’re smiling, but not really at him.

Then your eyes lock with Niki.

He’s leaning against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable — until it’s not. His eyes drop to your mouth. Then drag over your legs. His jaw flexes like he’s biting back something unholy.

You slow your steps.

He doesn’t move.

You pass him anyway, because you’re petty, and you like the way his stare burns into your back.

“That guy talks a lot,” Niki leans down to whisper in your ear. His voice low, hand lightly touching your waist. Possessively.

You stop walking. Sunghoon keeps going, oblivious. You turn halfway, just enough to give Niki a look over your shoulder.

“Jealous?” you ask, smirking.

Niki steps fully into your personal space, pulling you into him by your waist, “no.”

His voice drops and the words leaving his mind make you freeze.

“I’m hard.”

You blink. A breath catches in your throat. Your stomach flips so hard it almost knocks the air out of you.

“Here? Really?” you ask, voice airy and breathless.

Niki leans in, grinning against your cheek “do you even realize how you look when you walk out of class like that?”

His fingers ghost over your wrist, featherlight. And goosebumps appear where his touch leaves.

“All I could think about was bending you over one of those desks.”

You don’t even have a witty comeback. Just heat — pooling low in your belly, throbbing between your legs.

“I have fifteen minutes,” you tell him, already so needy for him. 

“That’s adorable. I need hours,” Niki teases you.

He glances toward the doors, then back at you, voice gravel “meet me at yours. I’m not gonna wait another fucking day.”

You don’t attend any of your next classes, instead you leave immediately.

The second your apartment door clicks shut, his mouth is on you. Your bag hits the floor. His hands are under your shirt, your fingers already tugging at his hoodie.

You gasp into his mouth when he lifts you — one hand under your thigh, the other gripping your waist like he needs you closer, deeper, now. He walks you backward until your spine hits the wall and your legs wrap around him automatically.

“Don’t tease,” you pant.

“I’m not in the mood to tease, pretty,” Niki darkly grins at you, his voice doing things to you.

The kiss is frantic. Teeth. Tongue. Groaning into each other’s mouths like you’re trying to crawl inside one another. Your skirt rides up fast, and you let it, let his hands explore every inch like they’re claiming you.

“Take it off. Take all of it off,” you moan against his jaw, kissing down his neck when his hands start pulling on your clothes.

Niki shakes his head a no, “do it for me,” he tells you as he leads you into your bedroom.

Clothes disappear — shirt tugged over his head, buttons popping open, Niki’s hands all over you. He lifts you up as he carries you to your bed, dropping you with a thud and following you down like he’s starving.

The air smells like skin and sweat and him — clean and warm and dizzying.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” Niki says as he hovers over you, his voice thick.

“Show me,” you say as you pull him in.

And he does. Niki kisses down your neck, his big hands on your tits. He’s going lower as he continues kissing you, listening to your gasps and small moans.

Niki pinches your nipple between his fingers, his mouth on your other boob. You moan, back arching off the bed. Your fingers tangle themselves in Niki’s hair as you pull him closer to you.

Your legs wrap around his torso, but Niki is already moving.

“Turn around,” he tells you, unashamedly palming himself through his boxers as his dark eyes drink you in.

You comply, laying on your stomach. Niki grabs you by your hips as he manhandles you on your knees, your front still on the bed.

You gasp when you feel his hands on your ass, gripping and kneading your cheeks.

“Baby please let me taste you,” Niki whines, his hands exploring everywhere from your ass to your inner thighs. He still hasn’t touched your pussy but you’re growing desperate as you push your ass close to his face.

Your mind is fuzzy as Niki traces his fingernails on the inside of your thigh, you shiver moaning before he even touches you where you most need him.

You can feel his breath on your slit, moaning as you push your ass in his face barely able to feel his lips on you.

Niki sees your struggle as he reaches for the pillow, resting it under your hips.

He murmurs against your skin “every inch of you drags me crazy, you know that?”

He lightly bites your ass, slapping it when you whine.

“Niki, need you,” you whine and gasp when you feel his mouth on you. His flattened tongue covers your slit and you push yourself into the warmth.

“oh god yes,” you breathe but pause once his hands grip your ass cheeks apart and he licks a long stripe from your slit, over your hole and stops at your asshole.

Your eyes widen when his tongue traces your puckered hole.

“what are you doing?” you ask as a pleasurable sensation you’ve never experienced before spreads through you.

Your pussy clenches when Niki lowly replies, “trust me,” and continues licking all over you.

“Taste so good,” comes his gruffy voice, he spits on the puckered hole, spreading the saliva with his middle finger.

you’ve never had someone play with your ass and while the sensation was new to you, it was also oddly pleasurable, your pussy pulsating as the pleasure is just enough to keep you at bay. But not enough at the same time.

Niki’s finger traces your hole, his other hand sneaking into your pussy entrance. You can feel yourself throb, the pleasure overwhelming.

Tears fill your eyes as Niki continues licking over your puckered hole, his middle and ring finger fingering your pussy in a hook motion.

You’re a moaning mess as you grip your sheets, legs spread as far as they can comfortably be. Loud licking sounds are covered by your squelching pussy and moans.

“Niki, I’m close,” you breathe, “please please please,” you whine, as tears build in your eyes. Enough to make your eyes glassy and makeup smudged but not enough to spill over on your cheeks.

“I like it when you’re like this,” he tells between licks, his fingers picking a slower and harder rhythm that has you seeing stars, his voice quiet and dark.

“oh my god, don’t stop talking,” you further plead, his voice driving you crazy. 

“Only if you keep telling me how good you’re feeling,” he says as his nails sink into the skin where your butt and thighs meet.

“Feels so good Ki, you’re so good, please, don’t stop, plea-“ you mewl, only to stop breathing as the pleasure almost tips over. Niki feels your pulsating walls, knows you’re about to cum and he pulls back.

You whine, turning around, only to see Niki’s intense gaze on your ass, watching as your butt winks at him.

“You’re so hot baby,” he tells you and it’s enough to have you close again. His eyes travel up your body and you shiver under his gaze.

“Turn around,” he instructs with a light pat on your hip, his eyes not leaving yours.

You comply, laying on your back now and Niki hovers over you. His hand under your jaw as he tries to read your emotions.

“Pretty,” he breathes, “are you gonna cry for me?” he mocks, his lips in a fake pout. He kisses you softly on your lips one hand still holding your chin. His other grips your hair in a pleasurable pull and you moan, relaxing into him fully.

“See that,” Niki asks, buckling his hips into yours. You don’t realize when he took his boxers off but don’t complain once you look down.

His cockhead wet and inviting, dick standing red and proud as Niki ruts his hips into yours.

“You like dragging it out, don’t you? Making me watch while I fall apart for you,” you complain. He just smirks at you as he lines his dick over your pussy. Your lips are hugging him and you hear him curse in a whisper, his voice strained.

“You don’t even know how hot you look under me—fuck,” he shudders, closing his eyes tightly and resting his head on yours. You wrap your arms under his arms pulling him fully on top of you.

But Niki doesn’t let you, “I’m too heavy, don’t wanna hurt you,” he says.

“Then just fuck me already Niki,” you say your lip caught between your teeth.

“Hands above your head. Don’t move. I want to take my time ruining you,” he decides and he watches the way your tits bounce when you move. He lightly slaps one of them and teases his cockhead over your clit.

You’re barely breathing, as the anticipation overtakes you.

“Yes, please Niki just put it in already, I’ll listen to whatever you say, just pleeeease,” you whine.

You both groan once his cockhead pushes past your entrance, your walls are still pulsating and you swear you’re close to cumming and he hasn’t even entered you fully.

Niki seems to be going through the same dilemma, his brows furrowed, eyes closed as he sucks his breath in.

“F-fuck,” he growls, holding onto your hands that are still bent above your head in compliance.

His frame covers yours as he slowly continues bullying his dick into you.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he comments, “keep looking at me so innocently baby and I’ll be busting into you before I even fuck you.”

You whine, pushing your tits up in a silent plead. Your walls wrap around his length so tightly that you swear you can feel him deeper than he even is.

You look down and see only half of him has entered you. Niki pushes further in and you feel so full you can’t focus on anything else.

One of his hands leave yours, trailing down your forearm, to your shoulders and stopping once it wraps around your throat.

“Be good,” he tells you before he pulls out slowly, pushing back in with force.

“So tight,” Niki shudders. You wrap both of your hands over his arm that’s still holding you in place by your throat, gasping in pleasure at the slow and steady, rough pace he set.

Your mouth is open in pleasure, no sound leaving as you watch Niki fucking you. His eyes are everywhere on you, with his free hand he pushes your one of your thighs up and you’re squished.

Feeling so full you close your eyes in pleasure, the new angle has you clutching your toes and no sound escapes your mouth as you drown in pleasure.

Niki sees you and you can feel his dick throb in you, he picks his pace up and it has you seeing stars.

A loud moan slips out, Niki’s hand leaving your neck as he works over your clit. You’re a moaning mess, as Niki plays with you however he pleases.

“Fuck baby, you’re so hot,” he breathes and you feel tears spill down your cheeks as you get lost in pleasure.

His dick is pushing into you, fingers on your clit and you still. Not breathing as your hands claw at his back.

You’re cumming and Niki curses. He sheats his dick inside of you, your tight walls holding him hostage.

Your rigidness forces him to stay inside when his balls twitch. He quietly groans, his voice hoarse as you feel warmth in you.

You’re so overwhelmed by Niki, by the pleasure still hitting you in small waves so you can only lay back and watch Niki as he pulls out.

His cheeks and chest flushed in blush and arms pumped. You watch as his dicks softens, his chest rising in deep breathes.

“Let me ride you Niki,” you ask, his whole demeanor turning you on once again.

“What?” he breathes, letting you push him on the bed and straddle him.

His cum trickles down your thigh once you sit up, but you don’t care, moving to straddle him.

“Just let me,” you tell him, he hisses when you touch his dick but it’s already starting to harden under your fingers.

You pump him once, twice and deem it good enough, hovering over it.

You push it in and listen as Niki whines under you, actually whines. The sound travelling straight to your pussy.

“W-wait, baby wait,” he pleads but you don’t listen. His hands are gripping your hips in a bruising grasp.

“You're so obsessed with me," you moan when his hands travel to your boobs once again. He's squeezing and scratching at them, letting you ride his hard cock.

He's smirking "of course I am. Look at you. You think I could ever stop?"

You pick up the pace, your tits bouncing and Niki slaps your ass, leaning against your headboard as he lets you use him in any way you please.

You grind yourself, holding onto his shoulder and moving into a squatting position as you chase your climax.

"You're not gonna behave, are you?" you mewl once Niki starts pushing his hips into you. He overtakes your pace as he murmurs in your ear, lightly biting on your earlobe.

"Not when you're this close."

And you let him, hugging him as he sets a brutally fast pace, pounding into you roughly.

He manages to bend his legs, pushing himself over you as he forces you on your back once again.

He’s biting onto his lower lip as he fucks you, listening to your moans and gasps.

“Cum for me princess, let me feel you,” he says, squeezing your throat just enough to cut the oxygen off.

You don’t realize you’re drooling and Niki’s hips stutter. You feel him spill in you, and the sensation bringing you over the edge.

You gasp, mewling and clawing at his arm as you cum.

Niki pulls out, catching his breath before leaving to the bathroom. He’s back with a warm rag as he carefully cleans you up.

You hiss when the towel touches your skin, the scratchy surface harsh on your sensitive clit.

You playfully hit Niki once you see he is smiling down at you, “you did that on purpose.”

The sun’s barely up when you pad into the kitchen, hoodie-swaddled and still a little sore. You’re pouring coffee when the front door clicks open behind you.

Sunoo walks in, mid-yawn, backpack slung over one shoulder—and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Niki standing shirtless by the fridge, sleep-tousled, sipping orange juice like he owns the place.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“Took you long enough.”

You freeze. Niki chokes on his drink.

“Sunoo—”

Sunoo drops his bag with a thud. “For the record, I came home last night and heard... things. So I very kindly turned my ass around and crashed at Heeseung’s.”

You open your mouth. Close it.

“Wait—you’re not mad?”

But your brother just grins, throwing himself onto the couch.

“Do you know how annoying it was watching you two eye-fuck across campus for months? I was this close to locking you in a closet.”

You groan, covering your face. Niki snorts, pink creeping up his neck.

“Please don’t ever say ‘eye-fuck’ again.”

You glance at Sunoo, unsure.

“You’re really not mad?”

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Why would I be mad?” He shrugs, grin softening.

“I know Niki. He’ll treat you right.” A pause. “And if he doesn’t—well. I know where he sleeps.”

Niki holds up his hands, grinning.

“Not planning on messing this up, I swear.”

You smile—helpless, smitten.

Because somehow, after everything, this all feels right.

Sunoo flops back dramatically onto the couch.

“Ugh. Gross. I liked it better when you were both repressed.”

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Bonus scene: final perfomance

Backstage hums with quiet chaos—zippers, footsteps, low murmurs—but you and Niki are in your own world. You're smoothing out the sharp edge of his collar, fingertips brushing the line of his throat. He’s warm, breathing a little too fast, and watching you like it’s a challenge.

“You’re not even touching me properly and I’m already losing focus,” he says, voice low, teasing—like he's half-joking, but mostly not.

You raise an eyebrow, smirking as your hand drifts down to adjust the hem of his jacket. “Guess it’s a good thing I’ll be the one bringing you back to reality later.”

He leans in a fraction—just enough to make your pulse skip. “That sounds like a threat. Or a promise.”

You glance up, meeting his eyes. “Why not both?”

There’s a beat of silence, thick with everything unsaid, and then someone calls his name from stage left.

But he doesn’t move—not right away. Just smiles that slow, dangerous smile like he already knows how tonight ends.

The lights are low in the campus studio, just enough glow to illuminate the stage and the semi-circle of classmates watching from the floor. It’s the last day of the semester, final showcase. Your professor announces your names, and then the beat drops. “All That Matters” by Justin Bieber.

You step out onto the polished floor, heart pounding in time with the bass. Niki’s already there, waiting for you in a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled, chain low on his collarbone. He looks unfair. Calm. Ravishing.

The music swells. You move.

It’s slow, almost hypnotic — all lingering touches and too-close footwork. His hand brushes your waist. You tilt your chin up. Bodies magnetized, orbiting, crashing.

When you straddle his thigh during the chorus, the entire room holds its breath. His hands settle on your hips like he was born to put them there.

You lock eyes.

And for a second, the world falls away. No classmates, no professor, no judging stares.

Just you and him — synced, electric, starved.

He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear.

“If I get hard during this, it’s your fault.”

You bite back a smirk.

“You’ve been hard since we walked in.”

He grins, dark and unrepentant, guiding you into the final step — a dip so slow and intimate it feels like undressing in public.

The song ends. Silence. Then—

Applause.

Cheers break out, someone even whistles, but you barely hear it. You’re too caught in the aftermath. Niki’s still holding you, one hand splayed across your back.

You whisper, breathless.

“I can’t believe we just did that.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Believe it. And later? I’m reenacting every second.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Could I ask what headcanons you have for some of the characters, if you haven't already answered? Like just some small, fun ideas or interpretations you have on their backstories, etc.

I've talked about some of my personal headcanons before. Here's a compilation of them:

Aromantic!Idia

RSA

Censoring Silver

Idol!AU

Worldbuilding

Leona if he falls in love

Crack/silly stuff

Malleus, Lilia, Riddle, Idia (falling from the dream corridor)

Zigvolt family

Aaand here are some headcanons I have regarding the OB boys’ family members or backgrounds:

Mrs. Rosehearts perpetuates generational trauma; she is hard on Riddle, her mother was hard on her, and so was her mother’s mother, and so was her mother’s mother’s mother…

Mrs. Rosehearts is 100% aware that her marriage is in the toilet, but she does not even consider a divorce, as it would be the same to her as admitting that she is wrong (/chose the wrong man).

Mr. Rosehearts is a very timid man who cannot speak up for himself or for Riddle. He purposefully takes long shifts at the hospital/clinic or overseas work conferences in order to avoid confrontation.

Leona considers Kifaji (annoying as he is) to be the closest thing he has to a real parent or guardian, as his own father was often busy with royal duties or bedridden to spend time with him. He would never EVER say this to Kifaji’s face though, he has too much pride on the line for that.

Kifaji would scold the other servants for speaking ill of “just a child”, but he’s only one man and cannot control an entire palace (or country’s) worth of rumors. He’d also try to comfort Leona in his own ways, like taking the time to play chess with him when no one else would or trying to offer advice and praise.

Leona and Falena used to be close (Falena was first in line to hold his newborn baby brother), but as they grew up, they gradually became estranged. Falena desperately wishes to refonnext, but Leona has zero interest in it.

Mrs. Ashengrotto fake cries and pouts when Azul turns down the smorgasbord of dishes she prepares for him whenever he comes home.

A lot of people believe that Mrs. Ashengrotto got together with her divorce lawyer, but it’s never actually explicitly stated or implied that this is the case. She just MET her now husband while she was going through the divorce—but hey, nothing is stopping me from headcanoning that her new husband was her divorce attorney because that’s too silly for me not to.

Najma used to have a crush on Kalim when they were kids and this absolutely mortified Jamil. (“This isn’t a fairy tale! You can’t just marry the first rich guy you see and live happily ever after!”) Thankfully, she’s out of that phase now but occasionally Najma WILL intentionally say something sus (like mentioning that his visiting classmates are cute) while Jamil is around just to annoy him.

As a kid, Jamil used to try warming eggs with his hands in hopes it would hatch into a baby parrot. Then he actually SAW an image of a baby parrot and called it pathetic (and wanted one more than ever).

Vil has actually bumped into his biological mother once, but since he does not know her identity, he did not recognize her as his mother and continued walking by. Missed connections 💀

When Vil still lived in Jack’s neighborhood, they’d play together, since Jack was one of the few kids who didn’t see him as the villains he played on TV.

Mrs. Shroud was the one that romantically pursued Mr. Shroud. He was apprehensive about dating (due to worrying that his curse would only burden her and any future children they have), but Mrs. Shroud took it surprisingly well and remained loyal to him. To this very day, he wonders what did he do to deserve a woman like her.

Idia used to want a dog, until one of the S.T.Y.X. employees brought in three of theirs to work and they all rushed at Idia, tackled him, and slobbered all over his face. Since then, he’s been more of a cat person.

Malleus often finds himself wondering or daydreaming about what kinds of people his parents were. This happens a lot when he’s wandering ruins; he imagines the buildings in their glory days and the types of people that lived and did business there.

He sometimes tells the gargoyles about his parents as if he actually knew them at all. It’s strangely therapeutic for him, though Malleus couldn’t articulate why that is if you asked him to.

[hischiershoe]

HOW'D I MISS THAT YESTERDAY!?!?!

If you'd fancy. It's giving off season. (I vote Nico)

06. platonic sleepovers that somehow ends up with you waking up with their arms around you

we love off season nico so much

no warnings!!! (im shocking myself there has been no angst anywhere), a tiny bit of timo slander but its out of love

When your sister dragged you into the camping trip she was going on with her husband and their friends, you hadn't expected them to make you share a tent with Nico. You begged her to let you cram into their tent, but she was adamant that as the two only single people (a fact she heavily emphasized), the two of you were going to stay in the same tent. Now, it wasn't as if you didn't know him well enough or didn't like him, it was just that you liked him probably a little too much.

In your defense, it was hard to not like him. He was one of the kindest people you had ever met, and he was always willing to go the extra mile for anyone he came across, even strangers. And yeah, he was also pretty attractive.

"You're going to be fine," Your sister stresses as you help her unload the car, "You've known him for years. It's not like it'll be weird or anything."

"Could be worse," Her husband shouts over his shoulder, "You could be sharing with Meier."

The thought alone sends an uncomfortable shiver down your spine.

"What if I slept outside," You shrug your shoulders, following her to the area where all of the others had begun setting up.

"One, we both know he'd never let that happen. And two, I would just make him drag you into the tent after you fall asleep."

You let the conversation end there, choosing to let her delegate small tasks to you while the two of them set up their four-person tent. Nico and his brother were setting up their two tents, which made it easy for you to avoid him until you absolutely couldn't anymore. You even waited until he was far enough away to toss your stuff inside the tent before retreating back to your sister.

She was quick to pick up on what you were doing, and when everyone was settling into their chairs to sit around the fire, she "subtly" suggested Nico sit next to the three of you. She didn't glance in your direction when you narrowed your eyes at her, but you could still see the smug smile on her face.

"Hey," Nico greets as he falls into the chair beside you, beer in one hand and phone in the other.

"Hi," You give him a small smile, "How've you been?"

"Pretty good," He nods, spreading his legs apart as he adjusts his hips in the seat, "Glad to be home for the summer. How have you been?"

"I've been pretty good. I got promoted to associate editor a couple of months ago, so works been a bit busier," You admit, the nerves you were feeling before slowly dissipating as you fall back into normal habits.

"That's awesome! You'll be senior editor before you know it." His tone was genuine and encouraging, and you couldn't help but smile.

By the time everyone was separating off to go to bed, the anxious feeling in your stomach returned in full force. Nico was quick to let you have the tent to change clothes while he stayed outside, and the entire time you were mumbling to yourself in attempt to calm down. I

It was just a tent. Just two people sharing an air mattress in a tent. That's all. It's not a big deal. You can do that.

The sound of someone pulling the zipper down was what caused you to stir, but the warm feeling pressed against the entire front of your body was what really woke you up. Your legs were tangled together with Nico's, one of his arms slung over your waist to keep you snug against his side while yours was stretched out across his abdomen.

You carefully crane your neck to look up at him, and when your gaze finally finds his face, he slowly opens one of his eyes to look at you. Neither of you says anything when you hear the quiet gasp of your sister, and you don't make any indication you're going to separate from each other, either.

"I told you it would work," You hear your sister squeals as she zips the flap back up, "They totally like each other! They're cuddling!"

"Can you shut up," You briefly pop your head up, though Nico's grip on your waist doesn't allow you to move much more than that, "Some of us like to sleep past five!"

Your head falls back to Nico's chest, an annoyed groan slipping through your lips as his absentmindly slips under the material of your shirt. It was a careful, sublte movement, but it made goosebumps rise on your skin and your breath get caught in your throat. The gentle circles his thumb was making against your hip certainly wasn't helping either.

"Morning," He mumbles, his voice deep and heavy from just waking up.

"Not yet," You shake your head against his chest, "I need to sleep a little more before I fight my sister for apparently setting me up."

"Well," He presses his head back into the pillow and closes his eyes, "Go easy on her. It wasn't just her idea."

"No promises- Wait, what?!"

[seitmai]

Shuri, Fury, and Peter even came out for the occasion. Yelena walks over with glittery blue eyes. “Happy Birthday Bucky,” she smiles, placing a party hat with the words birthday boy sprawled on it. Sam stands beside her with a cake in hand. “Happy birthday, bud.” He claps him on the shoulder and at the same time everyone springs into the happy birthday song. They all cheer at the end when he blows his candles out. “Haha” Alexi laughs his deep grumble, picking Bucky up off the ground, “Happy birthday, you know, you are like brother to me. May your life be filled with many, many well wishes.” He kisses Bucky on the cheek. 

🥰🥹🥰🥹🥰

“Bucky,” he swears he hears your sweet voice like a whisper in his ears.  “I need you,” he finally breaks. He’s been dreading this day ever since you passed. Birthdays were a special thing to you, and you made sure Bucky got to revel in the same feeling. He never cared about birthdays until he met you. Until you surprised him with a homemade cake in bed and a party of his favorite people later in the night. At those parties, you stuck by him like glue. Always by his side teasingly calling him ‘birthday boy’ until midnight struck. 

Oh no this is gonna ba a horrible birthday 🥺

“She’s gone.” He doesn’t move when he declares this, his voice steady and doleful. “She’s gone..” he lifts his head, red rimmed eyes looking into Yelena’s green ones. She walks over slowly to the two, placing a knee on the floor as she looks you over trying to keep herself together for Bucky’s sake. Gently, she places her hands to close your still eyes. 

😭💔

Bucky looks at your face one more time. His nose has pinkened and his chin trembles. He looks at the red eyeliner you put on this morning to match with Yelena, the lips that would never speak those soft, endearing pet names again. He looks at you and realizes there’s no way he could live without you. There’s no life if you're not by his side.

Not the matching eyeliner 🥺

“Bob!” Bucky calls, disregarding everything and everyone, he holds his hand out. “Please, I need to see her. I can’t…” he begs inconsolably. “What?” Yelena whips her head around, “I thought we stopped that, you let him go back in there?” “I— He wouldn’t let me say no, I’m sorry.”

Ufff I feel so bad for Bob but also Bucky, just heart breaking 💔

It takes a second before Bob speaks up, “I uhh, I’ve been working on something. A more positive side of the void.”

Oh 👀

“I miss you,” he breathes out. “This has been the hardest year of my life.” “I love you so much,” Y/n whispers and pulls away, her hands frame his face. “I love you and I want you to try and be happy, yeah?”

Sam had never seen Bucky so low before and that was saying something. Something in him shifted after losing Y/n. He thinks about the day of the funeral and how empty and sunken Bucky looked. He just hopes whatever this was what would help a little. 

He has all these great people there for him, but still longs for the one person that has been taken from him 💔😭

out of bounds

summary: Bucky loses the love of his life.

pairing: Thunderbolts!BF!Bucky x Superhero!reader

wc: 1876

-

A YEAR AGO

“What about Indian?”  You grunt, raising your knee to collide with your opposition's head. He sways at the move before you grab your throwing knives aiming for his chest. 

“No baby, we had that—“ Bucky throws two punches, “We had that two nights in a row this week.” 

“You weren’t complaining then.”

“I just can’t say no to you now can I?” He smiles charmingly before sending another agent flying across the room. 

“Okayy,” you sing, trying hard to ignore how attractive that was, “Italian? You like Mr. Catteano’s ravioli.” 

“Is that what you want?” He walks closer to you. 

“I think so? Oh wait,” you swing around him, throwing  stars at the running agent. One in each leg and another right in the throat, but it misses.

“That was cute,” Bucky smirks. “Something distracting you sweetheart.”

“No I’m perfectly fine,” you huff. Launching yourself in the air before sending a breath stopping kick to his chest. 

You look around the room to see everyone on the ground, “I think we’re good here.” 

Bucky places a finger to his ear, “Walker? Are we all finished here?” 

“All clear, Yelena has the sphere, you both can head to the quinjet.” 

“Understood.” 

Bucky steps beside you, drapes an arm over your shoulder, and steers you both towards the exit. 

“How about Caribbean?” You propose excitedly, you guys haven’t had that in a while. 

“Oh yes, let’s do that. Will you place the order on the way there?” 

“Yes,” you go to push back a piece of Bucky’s hair when you notice you’re missing something. “Shit. My bracelet. I think I dropped it in there.” 

You go before he can say a word, running back in as he walks after you. He hated to say it but these missions really did take it out of him. 

“Doll, Would you hate me if I said I might actually be craving Indian?” 

“James..”

It doesn’t even take a syllable for Bucky to detect the whimper in your voice.

“Y/n!” 

In the room, he’s met with you stood against the man from earlier. 

“Hey!” He dashes to you as quick as he can watching you struggle against the man’s restraint. 

“An eye for an eye.” The agent seethes.

“No!” 

Without a thought Bucky grabs the gun from his holster. It’s 2 shots to his head and two bodies hit the floor. 

He’s by your side in an instant, one hand cradles the back of your head from the icy, hard floor. The other goes to his earpiece. 

“Walker! Yelena! I need medics to the console room. Now!”

“Heard.” Comes through Walker's voice. 

“What’s going on?” Yelena asks, running towards the room. 

“Y/n— fuck!” He hates this. “Y/n’s been stabbed, hurry!”

It looks critical and feels even worse as you gasp in air. It stung but at the same time you could barely even feel the twisted bruise in your chest. 

“James,” you whimper. “Fuck, this hurts,” you cry.

“It’s okay,” he hushes you, his thumb rubbing over your temple. His free hand presses into your bruise. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

—

A YEAR LATER 

Bucky did not want this party. He would rather stay in bed and watch television. But no one would take no for an answer. Not Sam, not Yelena, and especially not you. 

The tower is decorated with all of his favorite things, and as endearing as it was he was not in the mood for any kind of festivities. He turns 108, so what. 

He shrugs his jacket on and a spritz of his favorite scent: Chanel Eau Fraîche and another spritz of his cologne.

He sighs, grabbing his door handle and not even within five seconds of him walking out he’s faced with an array of overly cheerful faces. 

“Happy Birthday!” Is cheered and the sound of a noisemaker fills the tower. 

Shuri, Fury, and Peter even came out for the occasion. Yelena walks over with glittery blue eyes. 

“Happy Birthday Bucky,” she smiles, placing a party hat with the words birthday boy sprawled on it. 

Sam stands beside her with a cake in hand. “Happy birthday, bud.” He claps him on the shoulder and at the same time everyone springs into the happy birthday song. They all cheer at the end when he blows his candles out. 

“Haha” Alexi laughs his deep grumble, picking Bucky up off the ground, “Happy birthday, you know, you are like brother to me. May your life be filled with many, many well wishes.” He kisses Bucky on the cheek. 

“Dad!” Yelena groans. 

Bucky just smiles and says a thank you. 

“How about a shot!” Joaquin whoos in holding the special asgardian concoction to Bucky.

“To Bucky!” Everyone cheers. 

… 

Fuck. Bucky can barely think straight. But he was in desperate need of a breather from everything. He doesn’t know how many fake smiles, laughs, and interest he could give to them. It was just all too much. 

“Y/n..” he walks away from everyone until he hits the end of the  hallway. It’s dark and almost quiet. Everyone else is an echo as he slides down until he’s sat with his back against the wall. His head hangs between his knees.

“Bucky,” he swears he hears your sweet voice like a whisper in his ears. 

“I need you,” he finally breaks. He’s been dreading this day ever since you passed. Birthdays were a special thing to you, and you made sure Bucky got to revel in the same feeling. He never cared about birthdays until he met you. Until you surprised him with a homemade cake in bed and a party of his favorite people later in the night. At those parties, you stuck by him like glue. Always by his side teasingly calling him ‘birthday boy’ until midnight struck. 

That’s when he officially started looking forward to birthdays. And now you’re gone. But your clothes are still in his closet, your perfume still sits on his dresser, your shoes are in the exact same spot you threw them in that day, he still keeps your pillow beside his. He refused to move anything out no matter what his therapist said. 

—

A YEAR AGO

“Bucky!” Yelena finally makes it through the threshold faced with Bucky and you on the floor. Bucky’s kneed against you, his forehead connected to your shoulder and an arm splayed across your body to hold your hand. His body heaves while yours lies still. “Bucky?”

“She’s gone.” He doesn’t move when he declares this, his voice steady and doleful. “She’s gone..” he lifts his head, red rimmed eyes looking into Yelena’s green ones. 

She walks over slowly to the two, placing a knee on the floor as she looks you over trying to keep herself together for Bucky’s sake. Gently, she places her hands to close your still eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks softly.

Bucky looks at your face one more time. His nose has pinkened and his chin trembles. He looks at the red eyeliner you put on this morning to match with Yelena, the lips that would never speak those soft, endearing pet names again. He looks at you and realizes there’s no way he could live without you. There’s no life if you're not by his side.

He’s been through hell and back, but he’s not sure if he can overcome this. 

—

A YEAR LATER

“Please come back,” Bucky cries.

He’s a defined mess. A grieving mess. His hair has grown out to what it used to be. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was fighting, and if he wasn’t fighting, he was drinking the day away. 

“Hey Buck.” 

“Bucky,” Yelena and Sam are each by his side, he feels her hands against his cheeks lifting his head. 

It’s crowded in the hallway as everyone looks on concerned. 

“I need her Sam, I can’t do this without her.” He goes on drunkenly. 

“Hey, you can feel this for as long as you want, but y/n would’ve wanted you to celebrate with family.” Sam says. 

“Bob!” Bucky calls, disregarding everything and everyone, he holds his hand out. “Please, I need to see her. I can’t…” he begs inconsolably. 

“What?” Yelena whips her head around, “I thought we stopped that, you let him go back in there?” 

“I— He wouldn’t let me say no, I’m sorry.”

She huffs before turning to Bucky, “Bucky we talked about this, it isn’t good for you. Y/n wouldn’t want you to cope like this.”

It wasn’t a great memory, living that same day. But it wasn’t always terrible. He likes the beginning: getting to see you kickass so confidently. He loves getting to see the smile on your face that day and the love in your eyes when he teases you. 

God, He misses you more than anything. 

“Please Bob, please. Just this one time. I need to see her. She should've been here today.”

It takes a second before Bob speaks up, “I uhh, I’ve been working on something. A more positive side of the void.”

“Bob..” Yelena speaks with uncertainty.

“I can do this,” Bob says and clasps Bucky’s hand. 

…

“The hell is going on,” Bucky looks around to see his bedroom, but he’s in the same outfit. It’s not the console room like it usually is.

“Bucky?”

His heart drops because it couldn’t be possible, not in this way at least.

“Y/n?” he turns and it’s you. He chuckles to himself when he sees you dressed in his henley. Your fresh out the shower with your hair in two plaits. “It’s you?”

“It’s me.” You answer.

After that, he rushes you. You're in his buff arms in seconds and your feet are off the ground. He places his head in the crook of your neck.

“I miss you,” he breathes out. “This has been the hardest year of my life.”

“I love you so much,” Y/n whispers and pulls away, her hands frame his face. “I love you and I want you to try and be happy, yeah?”

There's a beat of silence.

“Bucky?”

“I don’t wanna talk about that right now,” He states. 

“That’s okay,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you that day. This should’ve never happened, not with me standing right there.” 

Your arms are sat on his shoulders and one hand carts itself through the nape of his head. He hasn’t felt that sensation in days, he could shudder at the familiar feeling. 

“You were there for me everyday we were together. There is no one else I could’ve imagined spending the rest of my life with,” you smile up at him. 

He sniffles at your words. 

…

On the other side everyone watches Bucky’s relaxed face. 

“What did you do?” Yelena asks Bob. 

“I’ve been working on a positive spin on uhh “the void”. It’s the same but a more structured positive memory. 

“Whatever it is seems to be working.” Sam chimes in. 

Sam had never seen Bucky so low before and that was saying something. Something in him shifted after losing Y/n. He thinks about the day of the funeral and how empty and sunken Bucky looked. He just hopes whatever this was what would help a little. 

-

I hope you enjoyed this story, please don't forget to reblog and comment thoughts if you did <33

[sturnslutz]

~VOICEMAILS- bestfriend!chris~

warnings: angst, cursing, a bit of crying, no comfort.

whenever you weren’t able to reach the phone, or just didn’t want to talk to chris—he always seemed to love leaving voicemails. he loved being able to talk and act like you were listening, even if you didn't necessarily respond.

and it became a habit.

layout was inspired and formed by @strnilolover !!!!

VOICEMAILS REMAINING- *6*

*beep* hi, it’s peach. sorry i couldn’t answer, just leave a message and i’ll see it later. or don’t. your choice. *beep*

saturday- 6:34pm

voicemail #1- 3:46 minutes long.

“hey peach, we got into an argument yesterday, and i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean any of the things i said,” he sighed softly, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “you aren’t a horrible person, and i love you more than you know, and i feel disgusted by the fact i said those things, and you have every right to ignore me,” he groans softly as you hear a muffled breath— probably from him rubbing a hand over his face. “jus’ call me back please. i love you,” there’s a brief moment of silence before he ends the message.

sunday- 12:21am

voicemail #2- 1:56 minutes long.

“still haven’t responded, huh?” he laughs a bit softly before groaning into the pillow next to him. “can’t believe we haven’t talked in about to be 2 days, i miss you so much,” he huffs, just thinking of the fact you’re probably doing much better than he is. “saw you at a party with tara and all ‘em. i’m happy you’re having fun, i jus’ hope you’re staying safe. i love you.” he quickly ends the message without another word.

sunday- 5:42am

voicemail #3- 2:21 minutes long.

“i couldn’t sleep the whole night. pretty sure you blocked me also, or your phone’s dead ‘cause it’s immediately going to voicemail, i don’ know how that shit works,” he sounds tired— his voice all raspy from not talking or sleeping. he yawns before his next sentence. “can’t believe i’m spamming you with calls,” his voice sounds more choked, and a sniffle comes from him. “cryin’ now, can you believe that? fuck this is stupid. i love you,” he sniffles again before a moment of silence, then ending the message.

sunday- 3:11pm

voicemail #4- 56 seconds long.

“i hope you’re doing okay, pretty girl,” he has a quick moment of a silence before talking again. “went to the gym after the last call, and worked out like crazy. would’ve been better if you were there. i love you,” he sighs, quickly ending the message.

sunday- 8:19pm

voicemail #5- 2:18 minutes long.

“dude i just saw the funniest fucking tiktok ever, y’woulda loved that shit, oh my god,” he laughs a bit, remembering the video he saw just moments prior. “this guy was fuckin’ talking to these 3 little kids, and they was sayin’ some shit about saying ‘grinch grinch grinch’ at 3pm, not 3am, but pm!” he laughs again, even harder than before. “so fucking stupid, they was tryna act all tough. sent it to ya’, probably won’t see it but i hope you do. anyways call me back though, i love you,” he ends the message a split second after his last word.

monday- 9:27am

voicemail #6- 7:48 minutes long.

“this is gonna be long, i know it. but i’m gonna stop calling after this, i don’ wanna keep spamming your phone, i know how much you hate when someone does that— i jus’ couldn’t help myself,” his voice cracks a bit before continuing. “i know you must fucking hate me, and i would hate me too. hell, i do hate myself, im such a fucking asshole. can’t believe i said those things to you over some dumb shit we were arguin’ about.” he groans loudly, running a hand through his hair, and what sounds like adjusting his body on his bed. “i miss you so fuckin’ much, peach. i know you’ve been texting matt and nick, and they told me you’re still upset about it— which is completely valid, but please, i beg— just talk to me again. i can’t go on without you. my brothers don’ understand why im so upset, they know we’ve had arguments before. but we’re actually not talking at all anymore— and that shit fucking kills me.” he sniffles, and mutters his last couple sentences. “i love you so much. you’re my best friend, and i think about you everyday. that kiss we had a couple months ago changed us, peach. i can’t take my mind off it. you’re the most perfect girl i’ve ever met. i love you,” there’s a moment of silence with him just deep breathing, before he ends the message.

my take on this trend with peach and chris :)

[boonoonoonus]

A Lesson to be Learned Pt 1

Smoke returns to Annie and finds out that he's not the only person who's been having nookie in the 7 years that passed. But of course, for him it doesn't count, but for Annie? It's a PROBLEM.

A/N: This is based on a prompt someone posted of Smoke finding Annie with someone else and losing his mind. If you happen to know who made that prompt, please tag them so I can say thank you. Also ENJOY! Shout out to my co-writer who RP'ed Annie.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, dual narratives with Annie's side and Smoke's

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

Smoke wasn’t pleased.

He sniffed the air, his lip curled into a half snarl as his eyes traced the figure disappearing into the distance. Beau-Dallas had looked somewhat stricken at seeing him pull into the plot of land, and even after laying flowers on baby girls resting spot, something still felt off to him.

Still, he put such thoughts to the back of his mind as he walked to the door. When Annie opened the door, a half-smile crossed her lips, and he felt his expression quickly clear. He turned his head to rest his eyes on her, “how you be?” his voice rough and raw.

Something had told Annie that today was going to be a pivotal day, but she had hoped it was the day he would finally release her, allowing her to enjoy her own flesh without guilt. Instead, she felt her heart pounding as she heard the car rumbling in the distance. She’d rushed Beau-Dallas out the door, but she knew it was too late, that he’d been noticed when she really didn’t want to draw attention to herself. Granted, Beau-Dallas hadn’t needed much rushing, a letdown of a man in all manner of ways.

However, the minute she'd realised who had come knocking at her door, her stomach dropped into her gut and her legs went weak. Of course, he would appear today. The last person she expected to see. The worst person, even at a time like this. "Why you here Smoke?" She asks through a crack in the doorway. She doesn't let him in. She can’t. She tries to hold it together, fronting and pretending a moral high ground she knows he wouldn't allow. He'd left her. Not the other way around, but he wouldn't see it that way. She knew that, like she knew his love for her.

"We through with Chicago. And this home." Smoke didn't have to say it was his home, that was implied, a given actually, because Annie was always his home, had been his home since he married her, given her his last name, and seeded her right. If he wasn't gallivanting across the land with Stack, trying to keep that boy alive and with a head firmly on his shoulders, then he was with Annie. There were no other options, no other tethers for him on this land, but his brother and his woman.

Funny how it was only after so many years away, did he remember where home was.

"Well, welcome home." She offered drily, not budging an inch and refusing to stand down despite a rising panic. "You seen your daughter, you seen me. What more you want?" He didn't deserve any more emotion from her, though her heart ached at her words, at their distance. But, her traitorous heart whispered, he'd been the one to leave. No money, and no half arsed messages sent over the years could replace his missing presence. She hadn’t wanted that; she’d wanted him.

"Woman," Smoke planted his feet on either side of her doorway, unmoving. He'd expected resistance, but this callousness was unlike his wife. He could have budged past her, pushed her to the side and entered the shop HE had built, on the land HE had paid for, for HIS wife, but he'd remembered enough southern manners to speak to her from between a clenched jaw and act polite. "I know you hurt, and I know I ain't shit, but you’se my home, ain't nowhere else I 'spose to be, but with you and baby girl."

"Smoke, I done already moved on. I had how many years? Living without you?" How many nights had she slept alone? How many times had she touched herself in private thinking about a cock she missed and a man she loved. How many times had she cursed, remembering his mouth, his hands. And here, he was again, two arms, two legs, two eyes and a brain that worked. Against her will, and her better judgement, she felt herself start to soften. She missed him bad. She missed his hands, his slick mouth, his dick pressed deep in her pussy, her mouth, even her arse. That’s where he'd taken first, back when they'd been too young - too young to be doing anything really, and especially too young to spring up a child neither could care for.

Smoke closed his eyes and breathed deeply. As a man of few words, he'd married a woman who fought primarily with hers because she balanced him out, she could be his mouth piece and he her strength. But on a day like today, he could feel nothing but rising blood pressure from Annie's antics. "Yeah, and I'm motherfuckin' Jim Crow. Let me in, Annie."

She wondered distantly what habits her man may have picked up, as the frustration Beau-Dallas antics inside of her throbbed again, what sort of women he’d held down and fucked while they were apart. Had he licked them? Touched them tender? Did Smoke give them the good good as he’d always given her?

Her heart ached.

“Why? What are you planning, Smoke?” She asks because she knows what will happen if she lets him in. She wonders what he would do once he spread her legs and found another man’s seed. Would he beat her? Hurt her? Take her other hole instead? What would it be? She shook her head to clear her thoughts and shortened the space, pressing the door closed a little more. There was no need to open the door to old demons.

"We not having this conversation on the street for any ole nigga to hear Annie." The idea that their business would be public fodder and affect her business was the only thing that kept Smoke from pulling the door off the hinges and taking his woman into hand. It was hard enough to be back in Clarksdale after so many years, and though the reputation of the Smokestack twins preceded them, Smoke didn't want to take anymore chances with someone who didn't know the rules that ran the town, not after the incident earlier with Terry and the Maybell Plantation nigga outside the Chow’s. "Open the door, Annie, and let me through. You ain't gon' like what I'll do if you don't, and baby girl don't need to see her mama getting her shit popped."

Against her better judgment, she lets him in. Resolved to what seems inevitable now. When she steps back to let the door swing open, she feels a twinge from down below. A burning heat that only increases when she gets a whiff of Smoke’s scent after so long. She’d been aroused ever since she realised who it was at her door, but God it aches something different to have him so close, passing her space to get inside. Her body, after all these tests, these trials and tribulations, hasn’t forgotten. And no sloppy half-hearted coupling with a man whose cock couldn’t even fill her up right would change it.

When Annie opens the door, Smoke breezes past her, his hand already outstretched for his pipe. Once it's in his mouth, he doesn't hesitate to sit down and reach out for the good ganja he knew she kept hidden underneath the shop counter. She's pottering around, trying to keep busy and trying to avoid his eyes, and he can't help but let his eyes roam over her body in want. She's wearing his colour. A blue dress, light cotton so it stains easily with sweat under her arms, around her neck, and when she bends over a bit, he sees the sweat has formed crescent shapes on the places where the fabric rests under her booty cheeks when she stands. A fire burns inside, further fuelled when he pulls his hand back from under the counter and pulls the ganja, but also a soft scrap of fabric alongside it.

Panties.

Soiled, white panties.

Smirking, Smoke slowly put them in his pocket and patted the fabric. "Why you catching an attitude Baby? Ain't like you to cuss me."

Now that she let him in, Annie started to ponder her options. Enraging him further wasn’t it. It was too late, and she couldn’t hide the evidence of what she’d been doing, not with her dress clinging to her body with sweat and that man’s seed rolling down her leg. So, what was left?

Appeasement.

She breathed deeply, trying to stop the shaking in her hands. The ointment was still out. She’d needed it for that man, her pussy hadn’t been too interested in his ministrations and there was only so much juice she could pull from her own puss in front a man that didn’t stir her loins. She eyed it discreetly on the counter, wondered if Smoke noticed it, remembered it as the same ointment he’d used time and time again to ease into her back passage.

“How long ‘ave you been gone Smoke? Was I supposed to be happy you back? Forgive just like that?” She didn’t want to. She deserved to be upset. Deserved to seek out someone after so long; she wasn’t meant to be a widow indefinitely. Or till he remembered he had pussy at home. She was too loving, too pretty, too powerful to be left so alone for so long. He couldn’t just waltz back in, not after he left, and he couldn’t look at her with those eyes and make her feel guilty.

Smoke's eyes watched her keenly. She purposefully kept just outside the span of his arms, so he wouldn't pull her close. Yet, she turned to him as she cussed him out, hands on hips as she breathed a little deeply. "Seven years, baby, I know. Seven long years." He closed his eyes and shook his head to rid himself of the memories of the long nights, the nights without her, his heart breaking all over again. "But, I'm back, Annie and baby girl, she's at rest." He breathed deeply and took a few puffs on the pipe. "Papa's home for good. Stack an' me, we gon' open up a Juke joint, an' I'm gonna build you that house I promised you, an' we gon' have babies, give baby girl some siblings to look over, and we gon’ be happy, Annie. Together again, I promise yah." He stood up, placing the pipe to his side and though her body was stiff, reluctant, he pulled her close. His nose finding her neck.

She digested the information slowly, leaning away from Smoke, somewhat distrusting, though her body yearned desperately for his touch to quell the heat. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Settle down, and Smoke didn’t exactly go together, especially when Stack was involved. A voice that sounded a little too similarly to Mary chastised her, told her to keep her suspicion. Still, it’s a fight not to melt right into his arms. Strong hands, a familiar scent, a broad chest. His voice lights something up within her, and she finds some tears collecting in the corner of her eyes. She’d been thinking about trying again, finding someone to give her a child. Probably a son. Someone to keep her company when everyone left, someone who would stay. And here came Smoke. “I missed you.” And that was the truth.

They hadn’t talked about trying again. Too lost in grief, but he was ready now, and he wanted their future back. "I missed you, too.” It's easy to pull her close, her chest heaving and pillow soft, without her brassiere pressed against his own, and capture her lips. She tastes as she always does, as she tasted in their youth, and he can't help but grasp her chin and cheek with his hands, pulling her into his orbit. She's his once more, and it's glorious.

Kissing Smoke never ceased to amaze her. The pure sensuality of it. Lips on lips, teeth, spit, and the single-minded energy that seemed intent on devouring her. She leans in with more and more fervour, her body increasingly primed for something and pussy leaking in new bursts for what she knew what was come next, what she desired to come next, her mind strays away from her trepidation, from her fear of the situation happening between her legs.

Annie is warm beneath his hands and Smoke can't help but slap her ass when his hands travel down her back to clutch at her curves. She moans into his mouth and he grins, drawing her close and digging his hands into her ass as he rhythmically slapped her ass so it continued to shake, one cheek then the next. "Shake that shit for papa," he says pulling back from the kiss to look into her eyes. He reached his hands further down, hiking up her dress onto her hips. Smoke didn't need to look, his hands knew exactly how to find her button and warm centre. So his fingers roughly part her second lips, groaning as he heard the loud wet sound as the lips separated."You miss me, baby?"

Her man doesn’t miss a step, and soon she’s enveloped in warm, familiar pressure. Holding on to her upset and anger is futile in the face of those eyes, fuck his hands know exactly where to go. He obviously hasn’t forgotten her body after all this time. A flick to her clit sends another warm wave all through her and she presses back on his fingers hungrily.

This is what she’s been craving what she missed. His hands on her. His words, filth and all.

She’s moaning now. Soft and plaintive at first, but increasing with strength.

"How can you—“ She can’t even finish the sentence. Rage flooding through her, intercepting her lust and longing. “How are you—gon’ fix your mouth to ask—If I missed ?” She missed him every day. In the beginning, she’d been so damn sad. It faded somewhat with time. As did the pitying glances and words people sent her way. But to ask?

They had a child for christ sake. She'd cradled the babe in her arms and cried for days. How many times had she wished he were with her? How many times had different folk run roughshod over her because they knew he had abandoned her.

She's warm, wet, and the room smells like sweat - like sex, but he can't focus on that because she's unbridled rage and upset in his arms. "Hush," he soothes her, "jus' playin. I know you missed me, I missed you too." That's an understatement. He thought of her constantly. In Germany, in England, in France, in the day, in the night, when he ate, when he slept, even when he was balls deep in some woman he couldn't remember, he had missed his woman.

His Annie.

Not for the first time, Annie thinks, ‘I must be a fool.’ Only a fool would cave like this at the first sign of contriteness, the first sign of apology from a man like Elijah Moore. She was that very fool.

It’s not enough, can’t be. There’s too much time for the two of them to make up for, but the same way she’d know what would be when she let this devil of a man enter her house again. Is the same way she knows she’ll take this paltry offering anyway.

“Elijah…” She says his name out loud for the first time. Not the moniker, not the mask. Her man. Long gone. Now back.

“You realise how much you embarrassed me, yes?” He had more than an apology to make up for. She needed her pride reinforced here. Not just his ego. And she knew he had one.

Even now, with another man’s seed inside her, he still thought he owned her. Still felt entitled to her body—her womb, even. And she’d given in to him still. She doesn’t understand, can’t fathom the pull he’s got on her.

“Tell me you’ll make it right.” That’s all she’s asking. Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe all he can offer her is some good dick and a pleasurable time, some handsome to brighten her day and all the trouble that came with him. Maybe. But something in her still trusts him. She had to. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be letting him talk her out of her metaphorical draws like this.

Smoke was not a man of words, so it was hard to bring forth what was needed, but he looked deep and he scoured his soul. She’s moaning now. Soft and plaintive at first, but increasing with strength, and Smoke can’t help the satisfaction brewing in his body as he toys with her honey pot.

"I'll make it right, baby, Papa will make it right." She was his second baby, their baby girl his third and Stack the first, but Annie had always been his special one. His gorgeous babe, who looked glorious with her sweat-slicked skin.

It wasn't just his sexual attraction, it was the desire, the way her body moved when in euphoria, the love he knew she felt for him in her heart and her power, tingling under her skin and warming his soul.

She groans in upset when he removes his fingers, and he can’t help his smirk as he brings his fingers close to his face. He stopped, glancing between his fingers and her face. “Baby, you creamin'?”

Annie stares up into gorgeous, complex eyes and knows without a doubt that she's in trouble. Her man was a vengeful person. And there’d be hell to pay for the unfortunate man she’d just lain with. As well as herself.

That alone is enough to make her pussy throb in anticipation and increasing fear.

In the past Elijah had shown jealousy before and she’d played it off and been able to reassure him that it wasn’t any other man’s but his.

Now with her caught redhanded, pussy still wet from another mans seed? Not a chance in hell. Lord how long would he hold this over her head?

No subpar sex was worth this. She should have just touched herself and gone to sleep. This is where lust led her.

Punishment.

“I sure wasn’t before.” She acknowledged the event that had occurred previously and held her breath.

His nose catches the scent, and Smoke feels anger like he’s never felt before. His mind runs through the clues, her sweaty skin, clammy hands and reluctance to open the door. Her wet pussy that was loose and open to his touch. “This shit smells like seed” The admission is all over her face and it takes every inch of self control in Smoke to not flip the table and do something drastic to her. “You gave my pussy to some field nigga in the Delta?”

Smoke feels an unbridled rage, that can't be tempered by her wide innocent expression and her mouth set in a pout. A wicked woman is his wife. A wicked, wicked woman.

In a quick motion, he has his hand around her neck, loosely, very loosely. Just enough to scare her, but nothing serious and stares into her eyes.

"Annie?" He asks in warning.

[ivyheaven]

"I dabble in dealing with crazy, think you might be surprised," or so she hoped. She wanted to be up for it, to be up to par for him. Listening to him talk about kids, how he loved them but hadn't considered them made her smile, because she understood what he meant. Shared the sentiment. He spoke so casually that her heart raced, how easily the potential for a future flowed from him. "I see what you're saying. I feel the same way. Hadn't thought about it much, or at all. You have also completely changed everything around me." Well, sort of. Their marriage conversation had been good, something she still stood by, though she had to admit part of her didn't hate the idea. "Half crazy, half insane - you're funny, those kids would be iconic. Really? Your brother's settled down already?" Admittedly, she ddi feel better about tonight's events, knowing he was not faltering in their relationship. "I'm hopeful we make it through college," she admitted to him for the first time.

Laurel watched intrigued as Eli's sister connected things together, even with the limited information she had provided. Her ears turned red before nodding. "Yes, that would be me, so sorry about that. Missing your costume would've been no good." Talking to the young girl was easing her worry, her calming presence but also just the adorable conversation that went with it. It didn't allow her to sit and overthink about the events that had unfolded. Or, the conversation Eli was having with his brother. "He did mention the voices, what's your favorite that he does? I'm sure I can bring up the stories my dad used to tell me. The ducky one sounds like more fun!" Completely engrossed in her story about the duckies, her smile just grew wider A story about finding family, it was a very heartwarming story. "Are duckies your favorite then?"

Isaac rolled his eyes as his brother spoke of the girl who got him tangled up in this mess. He had to admit that he had not heard his brother speak of someone this way, it was a first. It was something that would, on any other occasion, make him smile and feel ridiculously proud that he had found happiness. But, he just couldn't look past the fact that she represented danger. The people she knew put him at risk, and had already hurt him. Isaac couldn't stand for that, no matter how many cute words Eli added. "You sound very sure about her, and I would be glad for you Eli, truly. You know that, no one more than me, would celebrate you finding your person, but she is danger." What Isaac planned or didn't plan wasn't stupid (he thought, at least), so he sighed. "I won't do anything stupid, you know that. I just don't trust that," to not say he didn't trust her, "Has she done anything about this? If she doesn't put a stop to it, they'll keep coming for you. I don't like that you're vulnerable out there, and we're too far."

To that, he frowned. He hated when Eli referred to himself as a burden. Isaac knew why, some of the shit his family said was unforgivable. But, he had to know that they did not agree with that in the slightest. "You are not a burden, stop saying that. Serious shit or not, we'll figure it out. That's what family does. No internal damage, good. You'll be done soon, and Inez can drive you home afterwards. Emma too, she refused to stay. Had to go see you."

Isaac listened to him and chuckled, shaking his head at the idiocy of the guys that had gone after him. "You were judging their technique as they beat your ass? You're unbelievable. People who don't use their hands are cowards, afraid to chip a nail," he said, quoting what their mom told them when she taught them self-defense. "They really could've hurt you though, I hate that we're so far from you."

"Yeah? You want to deal with my crazy?" Eli asked as a small smile spread across his bruised cheeks. "I'll be honest, I love kids but never wanted any of my own. It was just not something I considered. Never having past relationships, there was never any point. But then I met you and everything fucking changed. I can see little kids running around being half you half me. Half crazy half insane. I'll be honest that my brother Isaac is the one that is meant to be a dad. He's got it down but if we make it out of college then I wouldn't mind trying for a kid."

"Friend from school," Emma repeated slowly. "Must be the one that he was late for me one night!" She was referring to the Halloween night where Eli promised he'd be there at seven but didn't come until eight. "He nearly missed my costume!" she nodded. "Yes. Stories make me feel better but only when he tells it. He does voices. Do you like stories? Do you have any?" she giggled and nodded. "I know the ducky one."

Taking a look behind her to see inez still following she squeezed laurel's hand and hummed. "There was this ducky swimming in a giant pool, he was lonely no one wanted to be his friend or take him home. So he swam and swam and swam until one day he found a waterfall. He was so thirsty and drank some water then surprise underneath the water he found a tiny family of duckies. One big one a medium one and a baby one. Lonely duck wasn't lonely anymore."

"Isa, she isn't just some girl. This isn't some college fling. I'm not that stupid. She's different. She stimulates my brain, makes my heart sing. The first person that has shifted my world to slow it down. Makes me feel like I'm not alone in this world. I'm not saying I'm gonna marry her today, besides she may not like what I have to say about marriage but for now. She's not just some girl. Yes I'm going out with her and no I'm not gonna stop because some jocks think they have some weird claim on her. You gotta promise you won't do something stupid when you get here."

"How could I not worry? This isn't like saying I go by my nickname. I'm putting you guys in the middle of some serious shit. You shouldn't carry with the burden that I am." But he knew it was of no use. If he knew them he knew there was a plan. A contingency plan and then a plan c. "Yeah. I got x rays done. They won't keep me since there isn't any internal damage thankfully. I just hate it here."

Eli wanted to joke around and with how isa was responding, they both needed it. "One had a really weak hand. They got a leg up because they used their feet not their fists. Remember what your mom said about people who didn't use their hands?"

[flossylove]

Last nights clip was so disturbing oh my goodness

I don't know how SRAM did it, but genuinely I felt so sick watching as the night progressed through the clips. Yes, we knew what was coming and how shitty Sven is, but still, they really elevated how horrible it was for Nora.

Also, by Petra joining in as well? With her removing Nora's clothes and kissing her? Like, girl, Nora was clearly too out of it to consent to any of that. I really wonder how they're going to go along with Petra, because in the OG Mari was always helping Noora and making sure she was safe and okay. Whereas Petra literally joined in!!

The call with Petra as well just solidified for me that Sven deffo does this on the regular and drugs up those girls around him. Like, "Yeah right. That's what I always feel too." Girly, get the hell away from Sven PLEASE

I feel like they're gonna go along more with the drugging plotline, with Nora feeling/knowing that something more happened, but everyone around her is assuring her that she just got drunk. Because then that'd work still with her being absent with Roko. She knows something more happened and feels unease with that, and no answers.

Of course, there's still the photos that we saw Sven take in the clip last night. Which, yeah, actually seeing him do that around everyone else?? And no one stepping in or stopping him from photographing the minor?? Gross.

I loved the clips we got this morning, they felt really fresh with the switch-up (even under the current circumstances). I loved how Roko was waiting outside for her, lover boy certified, but I just know this is gonna hurt so much with the upcoming weeks. I already knew this plotline was gonna be painful, as it always is, but especially with Nora and Roko, who as we all know I really love. They are top remake for me. They are just so sweet with each other. And the character arc with Roko from Season 1 to now?

As always, I am really interested in how they're going to execute this new aspect of the plotline. I loved that we got to see Roko there this morning, and finding out through Vito that he held her hair back and truly looked after her. It really just highlights how shitty Sven is, and we haven't even gotten to the worst of it.

Hearing Roko talk about those parties Sven holds, like he knows about them, hates that they happen. That's just gonna hurt so much more when he finds out about Nora being there. Which, just slightly talking about the future, I really hope he actually does something to Sven. Yes, violence isn't always the answer - but in this case it absofuckinglutely is. Like, if they don't make him do something, the same guy that said "If anyone so much as lays a finger on you, I'll be there" - and he just does nothing to his slimy brother?!?! I would really feel like that's a missed opportunity absolutely.

This post is probably so negative and like, underwhelming. I just don't know how to express my reactions. Like, yes of course I love this show, and I am loving the changes, but this storyline is always difficult (I find) to talk about in any sort of happy way, because we all know what's coming.

In other news, we got another forehead kiss and several more! So I guess there's a positive 😭😭

Also, Roko's "I've been waiting the whole week for you to call" 😭 "Chamomile? For my delicate flower." Nora's smile!

User flossylove found sobbing on the floor over this cutie.

Guys, I'm really trying to focus on the positives in this scene, and that's probably what I'll be doing going forward because otherwise rage will just take over my body :))

~ floss

[saltsongwc]

Gods I’m sorry for all the asks I’m frothing at the mouth (I’m so happy your back I miss this au)

So… what’s up with stinky Ashfur in this au?

still stinky.

idk really, like i don't think he hates Firestar as much as in canon, certainly not because Kittypet (because Cloudtail is his brother and he loves his brother and sister), I think however he feels entitled to Squirrelflight's affections still, because that's part of his character, he has attachment issues and that goes deep and doesn't justify anything he does.

so like, slightly sameish character that just acts well rounded to family and friends but like you do not want to date him at all he is a walking red flag that needs to discuss things in therapy but refuses to go.

(also thank you so much and dw about the questions i love getting them)

[specific-dreamer]

useless/detail oriented headcanons bc my fixation is fading !

ace hates getting braids. she prefers afros and twists out but sometimes she falls asleep at the drive in and when she wakes up soda gave her four corn rows

bob had a slight stutter. not “t-t-this” kind but where he talks too fast and runs out of breath causing him to blue screen so he’s repeating himself until he remembers to take a deep breath

(theater club helped a lot with his stutter so he doesn’t run out of breath as much anymore. he mostly stutters when he’s with cherry or when he’s drunk but more emo than angry)

cherry is the possessive type and bob is the jealous type. except where bobs jealousy can be explained away (“oh he didn’t mean it like that bob he was just being nice” “oh okay ❤️ yay ❤️”) cherry is possessive down. even if bob is wrong (cough canon) shes gonna defend him down (“your boyfriend was the ringleader” “johnny must have done something”)

cherrys lactose intolerant and bob is allergic to red dye 40, pollen, grass, and funny enough cherries (pollen and grass are his worst allergies; if he’s outside for more than 40 minutes without his meds then he’s down for the rest of the week sometimes even two weeks. his school attendance records are atrocious)

soda favorite classes were shop and science

pony’s favorite class is art and every year he tries to get two art slots in his schedule

soda pours milk first then cereal bc when he’s feeling down he likes to color the milk :)

sometimes darry regrets taking the boys in purely bc he misses being able to get in fights. like this boy loves fights you guys i genuinely think he rivals dally

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: cherry and bob’s favorite band is the beach boys

modern au two-bit, steve and piny play the sims. two-bit is gameplay focused, steve is cas focused and ponyboy builds

johnnys favorite utensil is a fork bc it can do everything a spoon and knife can do (yes he even uses a fork for soup he’s very determined guys)

two-bit pierced his little sisters ears bc she whined for 40 days and 40 nights (his mom tore him a new one and he wasn’t allowed to leave the house for five whole days)

darrel (mr curtis) wrote on the back of all the family photos and he then taught the boys cursive so they’d be able to read them

in the parents bedroom there are curtains. they’re red (darrel’s favorite color) with a hand sewn cream colored lace trim (karen (mrs curtis) sewed them on)

(stolen from @alaskan-wallflower bc they were so correct omfg) ponyboy has a horse named horsie

i’ve also said this one b4 but every year two-bit gets ace a new deck of playing cards except it’s completely filled with ace cards. for ace’s 16th birthday, he gets ponyboy to paint the cards with different versions of ace (there’s a card of ace after her first rumble, ace when they first met her, ace in a ballet attire, ace on top of the car just looking fierce; you name it ponyboy prolly painted it)

(icr who im stealing this from but ill come back and tag them when i find it) randy and bob play chess together when bob is an emotional drunk and feeling particularly clingy

oh speaking of; drunk bob has like two versions. emotional drunk and angry drunk. i’ve made a full post i think here

randy’s a hippie :) he comes back to tulsa (after twttin) and does everything in his power to get bob to try weed (bc ofc in my perfect world bob is still alive duh) anyways randy thinks weed would rly help bob mellow out but paul said if he found out bob (or chet) did grass he kill them dead then bring them back and kill them again (pauls a good brother send tweet)

after pony leaves darry goes back to school, something something in between, he works his way to being a TA and becomes a mentor (highly comparable to mr feeny) for mason mccormick

(i love mason sm and im not sorry)

in my ghost au, darrel becomes so fond of bob like it’s not funny. they tell each other stories about their lives and bob tells him everything he did that he knows he shouldn’t have but still did and darrel lectures him like no tmr just to end with “but you didn’t turn out completely bad, son. you’re remorseful and you feel guilty, so there’s still something in you to be saved.” and bob wants to cry throughout the whole ordeal

ugh that’s not a detail but i needed to share my thoughts for my ghost au i love it down

sodapop prefers those big red pencils they use in kindergarten to the skinny yellow number two pencils

oh sodapop and darry were originally left handed b4 they went to school and were forced to use they right hand (ponyboy was left handed too but they taught him to use his right hand b4 he started school bc they knew his forgettable ass would get popped hourly if they didn’t)

one year in middle school bob was so entranced with finding a way to make cherry like him back he forgot to submit his classes for the next school year and instead of giving him a shop class they put him in wrestling. its the only “sport” he actually liked and it’s where he gets in enthusiasm for getting into fights from

(it is my new personal hc bc i think it’s hilarious that) in the ahh au darry and bob constantly fight. like paul is sat on the couch watching a movie or something with cherry and bob and darry walks in with a big ass smile, taps bob on the shoulder, and when bob turns around darry decks tf out of him. sometimes when chet is around he’ll take bobs side and it’s the only time they work together ( @aforeffective @cherrycolacowboy dunno if i mentioned but i simply adore ahh)

steve collects matchbox cars. everytime his dad gives him money he goes out and buys a new one

big fan of the hc that two-bit is hopelessly pining for darry and they both are well aware that nothing will come of it and even still they’re best friends

ace will violently gag if she touches corduroy (the 70 will not be kind to her rip ace)

OH NICKNAMES ok darry calls ace “aces”steve and two-bit are the only ones allowed to call her “acey”

sometimes when he misses his parents and the way things use to be, darry slips up and calls “pony” ponybaby

once when soda went through this period where he wanted a normal name like darry (it lasted two hours tops) he decided everyone had to call him poppy since it’s close to his real name (but everytime someone said poppy he’d look around trying to see who they were talking too bc he frgt he’s poppy now)

ponyboy never went through that phase. he was convinced soda named him and he was so excited about that no one had the heart to break it to him that that wasn’t true

kk this is all i’ve got ! i can and im so totally willing to expand on any and all of these hcs, they mean sm to me istg

[jassackles]

The moment: Jensen Ackles x Reader - Chapter 1 - Y/N

She’s the deputy hotel manager and he’s the actor. She accidentally storms into the meet and greet on her first day back at work after she‘s been away for the last three months. And Jensen? He can’t take his eyes off of her.

In this story Jensen and Danneel never were a couple. Disclaimer I love the Ackles with all my heart so this is no disrespect towards them, it’s just fiction. Stay delulu!

Chapter 1 - Y/N — 945 words

There’s too many people in here, I’m getting anxious. Wherever I look around there’s people. The air is thick and just bad. So I open the next door, thinking it’s leading to a staircase to get out of here, because it’s too much. But when it get inside the room, there’s like ten people who look at me and then there’s this guy, who looks at me a little confused. “You’re Late.” A lady with a name tag that says Janine and staff. Staff? I don’t understand shit. I just work at this damn hotel. I’ve been sick for the last couple of months and nobody told me my first day would be this stressful. “Late?” I ask the lady. “Yeah for the Meet and Greet with Jensen.” Jensen? Who the fuck is Jensen? I don’t know a Jensen. “Oh, uh, I don’t think I’m right, here.” I tell her quietly because all of these are looking right at me. The lady blinks, “Then how did you get in here was there no security out there?” Security. Where the fuck am I ? And who the fuck is that Jensen guy. “…No.” I answer before looking around and seeing the guy looking at me and around him, just women. Only women. Why? Also meet and greet? Weird. “I go now.” Is all I say before I burst out of the room and back into the crowd. I can’t help but look back and see that guy looking at me. He’s handsome. Im not gonna lie about it. I need to ask Emily what the fuck is going on here. I grab my work phone and text Emily.

“Why’s there so many people here?”

“Did no one tell you?”

“Tell me what?!”

“Here’s some “supernatural convention” at our hotel.”

“What’s a convention?”

“You know…people meeting their idols and fav celebrities.”

“Uh… no.”

“Okay, but that’s the reason why’s there so many people here.”

So a convention.

“What’s a meet and greet?” I text her.

“There’s only like 10 people meeting the actor.”

So the guy who was looking at me. The handsome guy. Is a celebrity? Well, he doesn’t seem like one. Okay, no one seems like celebrity. Shut up, Y/N.

“Do you even know Supernatural?” She asks me.

“No, I don’t.”

“WHAT? You don’t know Supernatural.”

“No.”

“You definitely missed something.”

“But we do nothing right? The people who organise the convention do everything?”

“Pretty much.”

Okay, that’s good because these people, it’s too many of them. They’re everywhere and I’ve never seen so many people in one spot. “You can’t be here.” A guy tells me who’s shirt says “security”. “I work here.” I tell him and show him my ID from work. He nods and lets me get in the kitchen. Why is that guy watching the entrance of the kitchen. “Hey, Rico.” I greet our Italian chef, who smiles at me in response. “Have you heard what’s going on here?” I ask him curiously. “Yeah, some celebrities are at this hotel right?” He asks with a slight Italian accent. I roll my eyes, “Why does everyone know about this convention, but me?”

“Because you’ve been sick for the last three months and it’s your first day, remember? The doctor told you to take it easy and not stress yourself.” I nod, because he’s right, the doctor told me to take it easy the first few weeks. Rico is my best friend and we started working here at the same time and we became friends pretty fast. He’s been with me to every doctors appointment, he’s my brother. “You’re right.” I sigh and look around the kitchen. “So are you cooking for theses celebrities or why is there security out there?” He chuckles a little, “Yeah I’m cooking for them. The organisers don’t want any fans in here and put something in their food.” I blink, “Wait, people are this crazy?” I laugh a little and he just chuckles in response and nods. “Yeah, Y/N, people are this crazy.” I just smile and look at the food he’s cutting stealing some for myself. Rico rolls his eyes at me, but smiles at me as I snack some of the strawberries.

He finishes a while later and tells me to bring the food in the conference room, since he needs to finish some other orders. He puts everything one the dining cart and I start pushing it through the hotel until I’m in front of the glass doors and need to show the security my ID again. I never had to show my ID this many times at work, it’s getting annoying to be honest. The security guy opens the door, letting me push the cart through and into the room. My eyes land automatically on him and his eyes land on me as well. “Enjoy your food.” I tell him and what I suppose are his coworkers. They give me a polite smile before getting up to grab some food. “Thanks.” One of them says and when I turn around. It’s him. I just nod and give him a smile. I turn around again and leave the room.

When I push the cart around again and back into the kitchen I see so many fans. Mostly women. I mean I kinda get why they’re here. Theses men are pretty handsome. And the most handsome guy of them has a really manly voice that makes me think things I shouldn’t be thinking about. I felt him staring at me and I really wanted to stare back at him, but that would’ve been highly unprofessional for the deputy of the hote.

[nozhdyved]

we think we know you - p.z.

contains: 1234 words LOL, patrick zweig timeline, mentions of suicide, artashi being massive patrick haters, slurs, so much patrick slander it's crazy, odd formatting uhh, patrick zweig NEGLECT, he deserved better

notes: i've been thinking abt writing this for a while... i feel like this song just suits his life really well. the formatting on this gmfu but i genuinely had so much fun making it that way. uhh enjoy and plz cherish your patrick zweigs while u still can

taglist: @girliism, @imperishablereverie, @faiztsheap, @musingsofheaven, @yardofbrunettes, @forgetmenotnympho, @sweetheartfaist, @sweetestfaiszts, @hangels . click here to be added !

listen while you read

[The following voice messages are the last ones left on P. ZWEIG’s phone as of today’s date. They have been played through. Sent from unknown numbers. Keep secure for evidence.]

Beep. “Patrick, Oh my God! Um, heyyy, you remember me, right? Oh my God, it’s been, like, forever! I can’t believe you’re all, like… famous and stuff now. You were a scrawny kid at Rebellato, remember? Haha! Um, how are you? I feel like I’ve been, like, so lacking in our friendship. I mean… we never, uh talked, but, I feel like that was what made our friendship so special, right? Anyway, you should totes come to this party I’m throwing with my college friends, total rager, it’s gonna be off the chain-hook! Um, I’ve been telling all my friends about how good of friends we were, ya know? Like, besties! I mean, besides you and Art, or whatever. He’s married now. Isn’t that crazy? Are you married? Gah, I’m getting too ahead of myself, haha! God, I just… I’m so excited to catch up with you! I haven’t seen you in fooooreverrrr, I’ve really missed you! Anyway, I’ll send you the deets for the party, make sure you pull up ready to sign some boobs, hah! Um, okay, byeee! Text me!”

[Caller identified as HAILEE JOHNSON. Fellow student in 2006 at MARK REBELLATO’S TENNIS ACADEMY. Witness from school states that JOHNSON did not interact with P. ZWEIG. Follow up at her location before the week ends.]

Beep. “Mister Zweig, how you doin’? Good? Ah, I’m a coach, big time, coached, uh, Courier, Lendl, uhh… big names, big names… Federer? Anyway, I’d love to sign up to be on your team– you’re very powerful, very passionate, I could represent you well. Somethin’ we gotta work on, though, is that serve, my man. It’s just… I mean, uh, it’s not workin’ for you. It doesn’t match the rest of your plays, and we just… gotta fix it before it gets too bad, ha! Just kiddin’. For real, though, watch that serve. It’s gonna mess you up, people don’t respond to it well. Oh, and another thing– up your social media presence. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor. You’ve got great playing, and, uh… really great stats for the season. But it doesn’t matter, you know? You could be playing bottom of the barrel, but the Patrick Zweig brand will still be alive if you post a meme every once in a while. That’s what it’s all about, yeah? Your brand. You cool? Um, you can call me back at this number. Alright, think about it!”

[Caller identified as CHRISTOPHER HARRISON. Coaches primarily in Florida and Georgia. As far as records show, he has not coached for Courier, Lendl, and definitely not Federer. This message was left two months ago, and it seems like P. ZWEIG did not hire him or reach out again. Follow up in under a week.]

Beep. “Hey fag! Haha. Ha… Man. How you doing, bro? You’ve changed, man. You’ve changed a lot. I mean, I never knew you, but, uh, my sister’s friend’s brother-in-law went to that faggy tennis school with you. He said that, like, you became a total fuckin’ asshole once all this tennis stuff started workin’ out for you. What’s your problem, man? You think you’re better than everyone because you can hit a ball with a racket? Hah. My frat bro, Kenny, he hits his balls with rackets every day. Does that mean we gotta give him trophies and shit too? Nah, we call him a dumbass. And you’re a dumbass too, bro. I mean, like, whoa, this fuckin’ guy can play tennis, oooh! Shut the fuck up, fag, fuckin’ elementary schoolers play tennis better than you, prolly. Don’t get all depressed and weird when you hear this, I’m just bein’ honest, man. You need someone to give you a reality check. You’re a loser who can’t do shit right, which is why you’re an athlete. Hah. I bet I could outbench you, fag. Anyway, call me back if you wanna buy some weed!”

[Caller identified as MATT SMITH. He did not have any personal connections with P. ZWEIG and we are unsure as to how he got the number. Should be top priority for following up on.]

Beep. “Bro. I heard that you, like, totally homewrecked your friend’s marriage. That’s fuuucked up, man. Bro. Bro. Not cool, even if that Tashi chick is smokin’ hot. Crazy how she looks so good after pushin’ a baby out. You can’t just cockblock another man like that. Hah, or maybe you were pussyblockin’ her, since I bet your faggot ass wanted that dick, ayyy! Haha. Anyway, just wanted to let you know that now I know you’re an asshole. We think you’ve changed, bro. Man. Fucked up.”

[Caller identified as previous caller M. SMITH. Sent a few hours after paparazzi pictures of P. ZWEIG and T. DONALDSON (NÉE DUNCAN) were released to the media.]

Beep. “Hey hey, Zweigster! Haha, a branding idea for when we start working together. You, uh, still haven’t reached out about that yet, but I’m sure you’re busy, so I’m just leaving this message for ya. I know you may have some doubts, but I promise you that we know best. We being, you know, the coaches. Um, of the world. Call me back, Zweig!”

[Caller identified as previous caller C. HARRISON. Sent one week after previous message.]

Beep. “Hey, asshole! Thanks a lot for showing up! God, you made me look like such an idiot in front of all my friends– You’re such a dick, Patrick! You know, I always thought that you were too good for Tashi, but obvi I wasn’t gonna say that to her face. I’m fine sayin’ it to you, though! Fuck you, man! I’m, like, actually so pissed right now. Ugh! You suck! I need a fuckin’ smoke.”

[Caller identified as previous caller H. JOHNSON. Sent three days after the previous message.]

[On today’s date, P. ZWEIG’s body is still unable to be located. P. ZWEIG left little belongings to his name– his car, his rackets, and this phone with the password written on a paper next to it. He entitled ownership of his belongings to A. DONALDSON and T. DONALDSON (NÉE DUNCAN), who have not responded to our inquiries. Please follow up with them if they do not reply in the next week.]

[P. ZWEIG was last seen in the parking lot of his motel, walking towards the beach and smoking. Please review CCTV footage to see cars that pass by him so we can find more witnesses.]

[Please reach out to P. ZWEIG’s publicity team for a statement on his death and/or suicide. Something of substance must be released soon to the public. (CONFLICT: P. ZWEIG DOES NOT HAVE A PUBLICITY TEAM.)]

[On today’s date, P. ZWEIG’s body has been found along the banks of HUDSON BEACH. He has been taken to the morgue and a statement is preparing to be released about his suicide. A. DONALDSON and T. DONALDSON (NÉE DUNCAN) still have not replied to our messages. Please follow up in person so they may retrieve P. ZWEIG’s belongings.]

[Case closed. A. DONALDSON and T. DONALDSON (NÉE DUNCAN) never responded. We are granting P. ZWEIG’s belongings to his parents. Funeral held in two weeks time. As of today’s date, PZ2022 is officially closed.]

[short-honey-badger]

An Outlaw, a Sheriff, and a Deputy walk into a bar... 3

Part 1 Part 2

Shanks sighs softly. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but he missed you damn it, and the only way he knew how to get your attention was to be the outlaw he knew he was. He missed the days when you would laugh at his jokes, head tossed back and hair catching in the desert wind. He had begged, dropped to his damn knees for you to come with him when Shanks decided he was tired of living a civilian life, but you had denied him. Had even gone so far as to follow in his twin’s footsteps and become part of the law.

It had hurt the first time that you’d pointed your gun at him, but he had seen the waver in your hand and the uncertainty in your eyes. Shanks had known then that you would never fire that revolver at him, not unless he did something truly evil. He might be an outlaw, but even he and his crew had morals, though he’d never thought he would have to go this far.

Hongo had looked at your head wound and assured Shanks that you’d be fine, but have one hell of a headache once you woke up. Shanks had slumped in relief at the news, glad to know that he hadn’t hurt you permanently. He felt terrible for knocking you out the way he had, but they hadn’t had much time before the other lawmen would arrive.

Shanks had tossed you across his horse, a red Roan Mustang, and Gryphon had gotten them out of there quickly. He regretted having to leave your beast behind, but Beau had never liked either of the twins, and Shanks didn’t want to risk taking any more time out of the getaway by messing with the Andalusian. He’d promised himself that he would send one of the other guys to retrieve Beau when the heat died down.

Shanks looks down at you and a small smile lights up his face. You look darling like this, face slack and hair spread across his lap. He reaches down and plucks at the soft strands, careful of the bruising on the back of your head. He had missed this closeness more than anything and it felt great to have you close again, even if you might not feel the same way.

“I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart,” Shanks murmurs softly as he continues to play with your hair.

He bends, one arm going under your shoulders to gently lift you as he presses his brow against your own. Shanks watches your face, looking for any sign that you might awaken.

“I don't like that I hurt you, but baby, you've been hurtin’ me for years, ya know that? I've missed you so damn much and it's like a bullet through my heart every time you look the other way. When you look at my brother.” Shanks sighs heavily, eyes closing for a moment, “I love you, darlin’, and I promise I'll show you how much now that I've got you with me.”

Shanks pauses when he feels you shift in his arms and he leans back to see the scrunch in your brow. He can't help but feel excited knowing that you would be up soon, even if you'd be pissed as hell at him. He'd tell you everything that he'd found out, and you would make the right choice. And that was to stay with him.

He waits patiently for you to rouse, and Shanks hears you make a soft sound of discomfort, squirming in his hold until you can raise a hand and rub at your brow. His grinning visage is the first thing you see when your eyes crack open, and whatever mood you are in immediately plummets into furious irritation.

“Hey, hun. Welcome back to the land of the living,” Shanks teases and dodges the punch that you throw at him. His grin widens and he catches your wrist on the next hit.

“You son of a bitch,” you snarl and jerk away from him, spilling out of his lap and to the ground below. You roll to your feet wincing at the pain in your skull. “What the fuck have you done?”

@nocturnalrorobin @sanjisleggy @mit-suri @forever-a-night-owl @sordidmusings @shanks-is-a-daddy @mfreedomstuff

[more-sonorous]

clippers (javey)

a continuation of my two trans canon era davey oneshots! part one here, part two here! the plot of this is based off of a poll i put out, which pretty much ended up fifty fifty so i tried to include both answers!

without further ado, the gays.

HAPPY PRIDE!

.....

It had honestly been an accident. A total and complete accident– Jack was wandering a different route and ended up stumbling across the Jacobs family on the way to Shabbat service at the synagogue. All five of them at once, and poor David amongst them, looking more miserable than Jack had ever seen him before.

He felt uncomfortable, like he was breaching Davey’s privacy, seeing him so tense and miserable, masquerading as someone else with a skirt and a bow. It was then, during that chance meeting (which Jack awkwardly and desperately tried to make brief), that Jack noticed how long Davey’s hair was getting. Shaggy curls that looked soft as hell and reached just beneath his jaw, framing his face. Didn’t look like Davey, and Jack guessed by the tension in his best friend’s shoulders that it didn’t feel like Davey, either.

Jack Kelly was not going to let that discomfort continue.

The very next day, when the sun was just barely peeking above the smoggy city sky, Jack met David and Les on their way to the circulation square. Jack didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before– the hunch in Davey’s shoulders, the way he kept awkwardly running those elegant hands of his through the mop of too-long curls– but now that he had made the connection, the discomfort was clear as day. Thankfully, Jack Kelly was nothing if not desperate to solve other people’s problems.

“Dave! Les! How are my favorite Jacobs’ boys?” He crowed, jogging up to his lanky friends and dropping a heavy hand on his shoulder as a means of greeting.

“Jack.” Davey responded, rather tightly, and gave Jack’s elbow a squeeze. “We’re well.”

“Yeah! We got fried eggs for breakfast! I could run a whole mile!” Incredibly chipper (as always), nine year old Les beamed up at Jack. Jack’s eyebrows jumped when he noticed that one of Les’s top teeth was missing. “And my tooth fell out while we was eating dinner!”

“Were eating dinner.” David corrected, gently, running a hand through Les’s tightly cropped head of dark curls. “While we were eating dinner.”

Les scoffed and batted his brother’s hands away, in a manner that made Jack’s chest ache for something he might’ve had long ago. “Ain’t that what I said? Jack?”

“Yeah, pretty sure he said whatever you said, Dave.” Jack grinned easily, stuffing his hands into his pockets and thoroughly enjoying the agitation creeping onto Davey’s sharp, lovely features. He had the furious scrunch of the other boy’s nose memorized to a science– playful agitation. 

“You are a horrible influence, Jack Kelly.”

“Nah, we just don’t speak the Queen’s English around these parts, is all. We leave that up to you, right, Lessy?” Jack earned a gap-toothed, dimpled smile from the kid– stupidly precious with his round face and dimples– and couldn’t resist the urge to mess up Les’s already untamed hair. “Hey, you said you could run a mile, right?”

Big, brown eyes seemed to light up with excitement. “Yep!”

Jack crouched to meet Les’s eyes, producing a perfectly shimmery copper penny from his back pocket. He flipped it between two fingers before holding the prize out to Les. “How fast can you get to the circulation center? If you can get there in less than five, I’ll give you a whole penny. Run ahead a’ me and Dave, and time yourself. Okay, Shortstack?” 

“You got it, Jack– I’m gonna win that penny, by the way!” Little Les called over his shoulder, already off like a rocket.

“Sure you are, kiddo!” Shouted Jack in response, easily standing to his full height and tucking his hands right into his pockets. Now he was alone with Dave, putting the plan he’d spent the night formulating into action as he wheeled around to face his best friend. “Dave, I was thinking–”

“You’ve got lipstick on your neck.” Davey responded very dryly, eyebrows raised to create an expression of either disappointment or disgust. 

Jack’s stomach jolted, suddenly feeling inexplicably guilty about the evidence of a morning spent with his girl. Dave always got weird when Jack tried to chat about his courtship with Kath. He was probably upset and wanting a girl of his own, or something, but Jack wasn’t gonna put words in the guy’s mouth. He tried to avoid the subject since it was seemingly sensitive, and he hated the judgemental and unhappy expression on Davey’s face. Quickly, he rubbed at his neck, which only earned him an eye roll from the other boy.

“No, you goof. Other side– no– ugh, just let me.” With pursed lips, Davey whipped a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and stepped impossibly close, sort of roughly rubbing the handkerchief against the very place Kath had sensually kissed just an hour or two ago. His hand was cold against Jack’s skin, and for some reason, Jack’s words died in his throat as he stared at the other boy. Davey’s expression was tight. Almost pained.

Typically, Jack was excellent with people. He could read emotions better than he could read words, knowing how a person was feeling just by glancing. Davey was, by far, the hardest individual to decipher. A real closed off guy. For some reason, he had Jack all jittery with his lipstick cleaning.

“There. Done.” As quickly as he started, he stopped, stepping away and shoving his own hands into his pockets. He did not look nearly as relaxed and casual as Jack when he performed this gesture, posture ramrod straight.

“Thanks, Dave.”

Another tight expression, and then: “Of course. The boys would poke fun at you for hours if you waltzed into the circulation yard looking like that. Now– why did you spend a whole penny to get me alone?”

“Oh, right. ‘Cause you need a haircut.” He grinned, suddenly remembering his plan (which he was awfully excited to carry out.

He did not earn the reaction he was expecting– Davey seemed to deflate, shoulders hunching and eye contact dropping within seconds. Davey didn’t do eye contact a lot (he did it mostly with Jack, which Jack was awful proud of), but when Jack lost it like this, he knew there was a problem afoot. “N-not that your hair looks bad like this, Dave. Y’look great. Y’always look great, Davey, but, uh, it just looks longer than I know ya like it.” 

“It is longer than I like it. That’s the problem.” He jammed the toe of his spit-shined black boot into a crack in the sidewalk, the two of them pressing closer towards the wall of a nearby building to avoid bustling passerby. “My Ima refuses to let me cut it again, since she’s convinced we’ll go back to school in the spring. Says I can’t go with short hair.”

“But… you don’t like it long, right?”

“I hate it long.” He mumbled quietly– it was very rare for Davey to offer such insight into his emotions, and Jack was eating up every last crumb. He stepped closer, just to hear Davey’s quiet voice. Davey’s subtle body heat was also welcome amidst the late autumn chill. “Ima used to make me keep it all the way down to my ass. It was a nightmare to care for.” 

Honestly, Jack couldn’t picture that. “Down to your ass?”

“Yeah, and it’s curly. Took me hours to care for every day.” Beautifully green eyes rolled miserably at bad memories, and Jack failed to create a mental image of Davey with long, raven-black curls.

Jack couldn’t picture Davey as anything but a boy, quite truthfully, and that was how it should be. Davey was a boy, after all, damn what his Ima and Aba might think about the situation. He felt himself frown, wishing he could march right up to Esther Jacobs and ask her why she couldn’t just love Davey for Davey. Jack did it perfectly easily– after all, Davey wasn’t hard to love. “Bet she lost her shit when you first cut it, huh?”

“It was horrible. She threw a fit like I’d never seen before. I guess because she loved my hair. It was the only thing I had that Sarah didn’t. Perfect, long, hair. But that’s gone now. Or, it was. Now Ima’s forcing me to grow it out, and she won’t let me near a pair of clippers.”

“Yeah… would be a real shame if I walked you home today and spent dinner laughin’ about a mishap with Racetrack and a big wad of chewin’ gum…”

“What?” 

“You remember, don’t’cha? How Racer’s gum ended up all tangled in your hair, so’s I had to cut all the gum out. I’ll tell Mrs. Esther I’m real sorry about the mishap, but I didn’t want a pal of mine going home with ruined hair. So I cut it nice and short to get all the nasty stuff outta it, and that’s the end of the story.” Jack could scarcely contain his own excitement, and he bit down on his lip to hide his growing smile as Davey’s big green eyes seemed to brighten considerably.

“So you cut my hair, and not me. I didn’t get near it with the shears.”

“Exactly. You didn’t have no part in it, and ya certainly didn’t want your hair cut, but I insisted.” 

“Oh, Jack…” Then, Davey was smiling cheek to cheek, brighter than the summer sun. Jack felt like he was flying, heart thumping like a battering ram against the confines of his chest. “You’re the best.”

He tried to shrug the stupidly complicated feelings off, sending his best cocky smirk Dave’s way. “So I’ve been told.”

That’s how they found themselves in the Lodge’s bathroom. Jack was an inch away from losing his mind, because Davey was sitting here shirtless in front of him with soaking wet hair. He had his wrappings or- maybe bindings, Jack couldn’t remember the word– tied tight around anatomy that Jack probably shouldn’t see, but even the gentle slope of his freckled shoulders was driving Jack crazy. Davey didn’t have the right to be this attractive. Constellations of freckles, pale skin, dark hair– Jack was kicking himself for thinking the guy was so fucking gorgeous. It was messed up. Those thoughts should’ve been saved for Kath alone. 

But he had the Lodge’s haircutting scissors in one hand and a strand of wet, dark hair in his other, and he was desperately trying to focus on anything but Davey’s excited face in the mirror. 

“You’ve done this before?” He asked, right as Jack chopped the majority of the long curl off.

Jack glanced up at their reflections before giving a distracted nod. “Yeah. Yeah, me and Mush take turns playin’ barber. Normally I just buzz or trim, but I’ll– I’ll do ya right, Dave.”

“Of course. I trust you.” Davey said, oh-so-casually, and Jack wanted to melt.

Instead, he cleared his throat and got to work, trying to banish any ridiculously unacceptable thoughts from the recesses of his mind. More and more curls dropped onto the towel around Dave’s shoulders, and Jack stared fixedly at the hair and not at the shoulders, or pale lower stomach that was just barely in his vision, or the way Davey’s thighs looked in his trousers. Something was wrong with him today. He was so caught in his head that he scarcely heard Davey speak up, rather meekly.

“Um, Jack?”

Blinking himself out of a stupor, Jack reminded himself to speak aloud. “Huh?”

“Is it, uh… is it supposed to be this short?”

Jack glanced up, and realized with budding horror, that he had cut the left side of Davey’s hair far too short. A little bit more and he could’ve nearly had a buzz. Shit. There was no way Jack was going to be responsible for fucking up Davey’s good looks with a shitty cut. He had to improvise.

“Uh… yeah. It’s… it’s just somethin’ new I’m tryin’. You gotta trust the process, man.”

Davey pursed his lips together, said ‘alright’ very quietly, and Jack thanked God he hadn’t gotten to the front of Davey’s head yet. His curls were still perfectly untouched, damp and hanging over his forehead. The back and right side had also been spared, so Jack had plenty of hair to correct with. 

He trimmed down the other side and the back until it was all just about even and much neater, leaving a lovely crop of short curls atop Davey’s head. Jack was careful, more careful than he’d ever been with a haircut, constantly glancing back and forth between the mirror and the dark hair in his hands. He worked diligently and slowly and made sure not a hair on Dave’s head was harmed, and thankfully, the cut turned out great. Jack let out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding as he brushed Dave’s shoulders off (his skin was warm and unfairly soft) and gave him a gentle pat.

“There. You’re all done.”

Davey stood and pushed a hand through his newly cut hair, joy practically radiating off of him. He was smiling uncontrollably, green eyes bright and cheeks rosy, and Jack wanted to die. He thought Davey was incredibly handsome, and he definitely should not have been thinking such a thing. 

“Gosh, Jack, this… this is amazing. You did an amazing job. I love it.”

“Yeah?” He asked, feeling uncharacteristically bashful as he brushed his hands off on his thighs. 

Then, Davey directed the full force of that smile at him. “Yes. Absolutely. You– you’re the best friend I could’ve ever asked for, Jack.”

“Wh– and– and you’re my best pal too, Dave. You gotta stop thankin’ me for doin’ the bare minimum.”

“What? No! This isn’t the bare minimum. You cut my hair for me. That’s going above and beyond.” Davey bit his lip, obviously considering his next move. Then, without warning, he lurched forward and threw his arms around Jack. “Thank you so much, Jackie.”

Immediately, Jack wrapped his arms around the other boy and held him tighter than necessary. Davey. Shirtless. Hugging him. Jack had feelings that needed to be examined and promptly repressed. “Y-You’re welcome, man. Hey– I think– I think you look handsome.”

He couldn’t help himself, ruffling Davey’s head of dark hair. Davey seemed to glow with excitement, his expression softening. He looked at Jack like Jack was the only person in the world. “You do?”

“You… you always look handsome, Davey.”

“Oh.” A pause. Long, tense– Jack nearly burst out of his skin, unable to pull his eyes away from the beautiful green in front of him. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Of– of course, buddy. Let’s, uh… we need to get to sellin’ or your pa’s gonna be upset about our earnings for the day.” Jack quickly stumbled back, kicking himself for letting whatever that was just happen. Katherine, Katherine, Katherine, he reminded himself, because he did love her. He was obsessed with her. He'd felt as much that very same morning. So why the hell was he feeling so entranced with Davey, just hours later? Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he decided to shut his inner monologue up and stop asking unanswerable questions.  

Davey seemed equally stilted as he yanked his undershirt back on, redressing rather clumsily. “Right. Obviously. Let’s go.”

And if Jack watched him redress far too closely, neither said a word. There was something about Davey– something about his hair, eyes, cheekbones– the way he carried himself– it was clear to Jack that Davey wasn’t just a friend. Jack admired him. Perhaps even romantically. That was a thought that made him inexplicably nervous in regards to their future, but his worries could wait. Davey’s newfound brightness, just because of a haircut, kept Jack happy throughout the rest of his evening.

[sodapop-babydoll]

"I love her and that's the beginning and the end of everything..."

♡ Steve x Y/N Curtis thoughts ♡

♡ It's always been you. Always. Even when he was too young to have a word for these feelings. Even when he did have a word for it but didn't dare speak such a thing out loud.even when he dated other girls and you dated other guys, it was always you who ruled Steve Randle's heart.

He loved you from the moment Soda brought him home and introduced him to his kid sister, pretty and playing with your doll as he stood there, scrapped knees and a crooked smile.

"I'm Steve."

"I'm Y/N."

♡ You're the only one allowed to call him "Stevie" ever. EVER. He'd punch another fella for saying it and glare at a gal too. It doesn't sound right coming out of anyone's lips but yours and, while he never admits that, he makes it clear enough bu only allowing you to say it.

♡ Steve dates other girls in an effort to ignore his feelings for you...but that changes soon enough. Things didn't really change until you started dating, a little late to the game but, well, you're pretty and sweet and your big brother Darry couldn't scare off every boy that came around. And suddenly Steve realizes that if he doesn't make a move, someone else will and you'll be their girl and the thought alone is nearly enough to kill him.

Still, he doesn't make a move yet.

Steve is too scared that your brothers (especially Soda) won't approve and of being rejected, still frozen in place.

♡ But what really forces him to make a move is when you leave for a little bit. You go off for a few weeks to visit a friend/family member and he misses you so bad it hurts. Like, laying awake in bed in near tears while thinking of you levels of hurt.

♡ he misses when you'd visit him and Soda at work and tease them, sipping on a soda while watching him work on cars. He misses coming into the Curtis house in the evening and seeing you working on homework at the kitchen table, the way you'd smile up at him when he walked through the door. Steve especially misses waking up early on the nights he slept over at your place and talking with you quietly as you made breakfast together, the way you fixed his coffee just right (and he doesn't really like coffee either, he only ever drinks it when you make it for him).

♡ It almost kills him. But it's what he needs to realize that he cannot imagine a life without you by his side and, more then that, he needs to tell you how he feels. So when it's finally time for you to come home and your brothers are working, Steve offers to pick you up from the bus station right away, almost shouting it comes out of his mouth with such force.

Which is fine. He's driven you around before, even picks you up from school some days (he loves those days. Taking the long way home, listening to music and laughing together). Darry's cool with it, so the others are cool with it too.

♡ No one else notices the look Soda gives him and Steve pretends not to notice it either.

♡ He showers, wears his best shirt and clean jeans, puts on cologne and spends forever on those complicated swirls he loves so much. Steve wants to look good for you. And he's waiting for you at the train station, nervous as hell before you throw your arms around him...and he holds you longer then he should. Tighter then he should. But you're not letting go, smiling up at him with those pretty, pretty eyes.

"I missed you."

"Missed you too, Y/N."

Steve takes you to his car and opens the door for you (he always opens doors for you, his mother told him that was something a gentleman ought to do and he held onto that thought), the feeling of your touch lingering as he gets into the car.

"You mind taking the scenic route?"

♡ There's music playing on the radio. His hands are shaking. The windows down and the wind is sweet, just driving and trying to work up the nerve to say something, anything. Steve finally pulls away somewhere quiet to tell you something.

"Tell me what, Stevie?"

"Something I should have said a long time ago."

♡ And he knows what he WANTED to say, Steve had it all planned out in his head, even practiced it in the shower a few times too, but, oh, if it isn't hard to say out loud. He's tripping over himself and shaking even more...at least he is until you take his hand and kiss him, silencing him with a kiss.

And he knows the answer.

He loves you and you love him too and it's the best damn feeling in the whole world.

♡ kissing you is way better than saying whatever he wanted to say, so he keeps doing that instead. You'll end up coming home with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, the both of you smiling, hearts beating wildly. But no one seems to notice it (besides Sodapop, he notices and quickly puts two and two together), keeping everything to yourselves.

♡ For a long time after, your relationship remains a secret. It's a little exciting, sneaking around with you and stealing kisses and secret looks. You're worried your brothers would be unhappy, they don't like you to date, and Steve's worried about Darry using his head as a bowling ball. But eventually, they do find out.

♡ Soda finds out first. But of course, he's known that you and Steve were in love for years. It wasn't a question of "if" it was a question of "when" and he's just happy that it finally happened. He catches you kissing behind the DX one day and just laughs, telling you both that he already knew and it's fine by him.

"My best friend is the only man I'd trust with my baby sister...besides, it's not me that you need to worry about. It's Darry."

♡ Ponyboy finds out second. And he's so annoyed, like...Steve? Steve Randle??? You're so pretty and smart and wonderful and you could have any guy you want, hell, even Soc's have eyes on you and that's saying something! But you choose Steve??? Whatever. He won't tell Darry (but you should). And when he realizes how much Steve loves you and how well he treats you, Ponyboy's a little bit happier about it.

"I though you hated Steve."

"I don't hate him, not really. I think we're just too different, I guess, and don't understand each other. We don't dig anything except for you."

♡ Darry finds out last. You and Steve take your brother's advice and tell him before he finds out some other way. So he comes home one night and you're making dinner, dressed up real nice, Darry smiling at you when he comes in.

"What are you up to?"

"I just thought we could have dinner. Ponyboy's out with Johnny and Two-bit. Soda's working late. But Steve's coming over."

And he's looking at you carefully, the same careful look he gives Steve when he comes through the door. He looks nice, all cleaned up, and the way Steve smiles at you...Darry sees it for the first time and he knows. He just knows. Your dad used to smile at your mom like that. He's...fine with it. Fine. Darry doesn't like the idea of you dating at all but, hell, it's gonna happened whether he likes it or not and at least it's someone he trusts. But he does make one thing clear:

"You treat her with respect. You love her the way she deserves. Because if you hurt her, if you make her cry, if you do anything to cause her pain, they won't find your body. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

♡ After that, the rest of the gang finds out because, well, what's the point of keeping it a secret now?

♡ Will somebody answer the phone because Two-bit fucking called it! The second he saw the way Steve looked at your first little boyfriend (jaw clenched, fists tight, eyes blazing as he looked at the poor kid), Two-bit knew that he was in love with you.

♡ Dally suspected but didn't really care. But he's just happy it ain't a Soc because, Pony's right, you're so pretty that even those rich bastards wanted you and it would have killed Dally if one of them had gotten a greaser girl. You and Steve are good together, though, even he sees that.

♡ Johnny knew but only because Pony told him about it the SECOND the found out. He's happy because, well, he knows that Steve has a rough time. His mom walked when he was a kid, his old man's got a temper, it hurts him. But you make him real happy and Johnny likes seeing his friends happy together.

♡ Steve mostly takes you on a long drive as a date. He likes his car, he likes his girl, best of both worlds! He likes driving around with you, talking and laughing. Parking somewhere quiet and starry, just to kiss you in private.

Sometimes he thinks about the day that he drives away with you and keeps driving.

Somewhere new. Somewhere better.

♡ But when you go "out" out, it's either a movie or dancing. Sometimes to the bowling alley so he can show off for you as well, when he's in a more playful mood.

♡ He lives you a heart necklace with his initials on it once you're official.

♡ Steve isn't just having fun with you. He's serious about the relationship, something that he makes clear as soon as you kissed him that day in the car.

♡ A happily ever after: you and him move. Still in Tulsa but in a little bit of a better place. Steve's been working so hard and saving for so long and works enough to eventually buy either a gas station, a mechanic shop, or a scrapyard. He's proud of himself for making something of his life, the way his dad always said that he couldn't.

Maybe it's not much.

Maybe he has to work hard to make it though.

But he has you though it and that makes all the hardships a whole lot sweeter.

[mistmessenger]

Seen | Papa V Perpetua x Reader

Perpetua believes he has finally found the connection he has been craving for so long.

Pairing - Papa V x gender neutral reader

MDNI

Content warnings: mention of masturbation and sex, not majorly explicit. Pepetua is insecure. Unrequited love. Angst.

AO3 Link

I had originally planned this to be with Copia but honestly I feel bad about the levels of angst I’ve been putting pookie through lately.

After a lifetime hidden away in the shadows, touring life was a shock to Perpetua’s system. Listening to the cheers of the crowd, their jubilation as they sang in unison with him.

To feel truly seen for once in his life.

Of course, something was still missing. He wore a mask, keeping a part of himself tucked away. They sang songs that were not truly his. They celebrated success only made possible by the years of hard work by relatives he hardly knew. The ghouls loyal to a brother who detests him, interacting with him long enough to do their jobs, but little else.

After so much time spent longing for connection, he realised the connection he had found through fronting the Ghost project was not quite what he was looking for.

He loitered aimlessly around the tour bus he shared with no one other than the driver. The hour was late, the night’s chill creeping into the air. Watching the bustling around him, the ghouls celebrating another show well done, roadies in a flurry to pack up gear and get moving to the next spot. In the beginning he had tried to get involved, offering assistance, trying to engage in small talk. But it seemed so difficult - his offers of help declined because of his position, the ghouls regarding him with awkwardness when he tried to join them. Eventually he stopped trying so hard, letting the flurry pass him by, watching this world he had been so suddenly thrust into pass him by.

Perhaps, he thought, the connection with the crowds will have to do. Beggars cannot be choosers, after all.

“Another great show, Papa!” A voice chirped, startling him from his thoughts.

Turning slowly, he faced you, instinctively reaching out as he saw you precariously balancing numerous cups of coffee, snacks, and a clipboard.

“Thank you. Please, may I?”

You didn’t have time to decline his offer as he caught the cup that had been slipping from your fingertips. Flustered, you chuckled.

“Thanks. Um. Thanks Papa.”

He walked with you in silence as you made your way around with coffees for the roadies, diligently checking that they all had their correct orders. He found himself appreciative of the way you spoke everyone’s name as you tracked them down. He’d been having trouble learning people’s names, and the reminder was most welcome.

That became his routine after the adrenaline of the stage wore off. Hunting you down and assisting you in the late night coffee run. For the briefest of time he felt human again, your cheerfulness infectious as you chattered with him. Inane small talk, funny stories about previous visits to certain locations. His input was limited, fearful he would say the wrong thing, something strange that would shut down the conversation, but you seemed to understand his apprehension.

He savoured it, those little chats each night, lamenting when there was a few days gap between shows, missing out on the opportunity to feel seen by you.

When the time felt right, and he had spent enough nights wide awake tossing and turning in his cramped bunk as he scripted the scene, he asked you to join him on his private bus for the night.

Of course, like all idealised scenarios, it didn’t quite happen the way he had planned it, becoming awkward and fumbling over his words.

“Um. Not ‘joining me’ in that way.”

Oh Satan, why did I say it in that tone?

“I mean. Not that that would be a bad thing, by any means-“

Too much! Too enthusiastic! Tone it down!

“I- I just-“

“Papa!” You chuckled, shaking your head at him. The face paints were in that moment, a saving grace. At least he would not embarrass himself by letting you see how his skin burned underneath the paint. “Relax, I know what you meant.”

You were hesitant, seeking out approval first from your superiors, who of course in turn got the wrong idea.

Of course. Everyone assumes ‘the creature’ is some kind of pervert.

You’d managed to convince them otherwise, at least - you were just there to keep him company.

Turns out you weren’t much of a sleeper either. It was the beginning of frequent long nights spent chatting, with Perpetua becoming comfortable talking to you about his past, even letting you reassure him about his insecurities about his performance as a Papa, even telling him that his brother would warm to him in time.

As much as he hated proving others right, deep down he knew what he felt for you. The nights you didn’t spend on his bus spent writhing in his bunk, his mind scripting more scenes, stroking himself at the idea of giving himself over to you fully. Letting you see him entirely as he is. Proclivities, desperation, scars and all.

To open himself to the possibility that things might progress with you into something deeper than friendship. That your kindness would metamorphose into something else, into the connection he’d been craving for so long. That your quick reassuring hugs each time he lamented about flubbing his lyrics would turn into more passionate embraces, your body warm beside him, beneath him, above him, heating him in spite of the cool night air much better than any flimsy blanket ever could.

But how could he ever tell you of these desires? After he had been so careful to ensure his desire for company was not misconstrued in the beginning. Perhaps he would ruin everything, the closest thing he’d had to a best friend on this tour, perhaps even in his life.

Perhaps you would think he purposely misled you, playing a long game to get in your pants. He questioned himself even, wondering if deep down in his starved subconscious, that had been his intention all along.

Instead he settled for friendship. Lamenting how, while not truly ever letting you see him, he never got to see you either. The lights of the tour bus always too dim to notice the finer details of your expressions, as much as he tried to study you. Longing to see you in the daylight for once, to see how your eyes might glint in the sunlight, your schedules never quite allowing it.

The collection of screenplays in his mind grew, eventually settling on perfecting one. The one where, back at the ministry, after the first leg of the tour was finished, he would spend more time with you, he would, at the very least, ask you on a date. He picked each word painstakingly. He played the scene over and over until it was perfected. The moment would be perfect, provided he didn’t fumble his lines, and you stayed on the script you had no knowledge of. You would blush, accepting readily, coyly telling him how you had felt the same way all this time. And in his new Papal suite he’d heard so much about, should they ever open the forsaken doors to him, he would take you, again and again. He would let you see him unmasked, to be seen to each other in ways no one else would ever have the privilege of.

The dim lights he only ever seen you in were a curse. For if the light had hit your features in the right time, he might have noticed the heat that spread across you skin, how your pupils would widen at the mention of his predecessor, his twin brother, stimming and twisting your fingers as you told Perpetua all about him.

It was something he remained ignorant of, until the tour crew’s return to the ministry.

His nerves rattled at the prospect of finally meeting Copia, he purposely remained behind the rest of the crew, delaying the inevitable as much as he could.

His brother was there to see them back, a few of his old ghouls hugging him warmly, speaking to a few of the roadies.

And then it was your turn.

“Hello you!” He heard Copia speak in a voice so similar to his own, he saw the way you grinned upon hearing it, leaving your bags at your feet and awkwardly extending your hand and going in for a hug at the same time. How your eyes fluttered shut in contentedness as he embraced you, the deep inhale you took.

He was close enough to hear your stammered words.

“Hi! I missed you- uh. I mean the ministry. I. I mean it’s good to be back-“

Pulling away from the hug, Copia waved his hand at your words.

“Heh. Relax, I know. It is good to have you back, friend.”

He turned away from you then, to greet someone else.

It was in that moment Perpetua seen you. And it was like looking in a mirror, something he tried not to do too often.

The flush of your skin, embarrassed at saying what you thought was the wrong thing. The slight tightening of your smile when Copia referred to you as his ‘friend’. The wistful gaze in your wide eyes watching him go.

Oh. I see.

You felt it too. That longing.

Just not for him.