#i just felt so nervous all day that other than getting drafts/asks written

[tvrningout-a]

i'm actually very sleepy but i just!! wanna talk about my muses since i managed to get seven posts into the queue uvu but i dunno what to say bc i'm tired, so you see my dilemma asdf

[emmasbrain]

Miscommunication (the fun kind) Part 2

This is part 2, trust when I say it makes very little sense without part 1.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Synopsis: You meet him for your date, but it’s cut a little short.

Warnings: None I can think of other than cringe writing.

A/N: This took ages man, I don’t know what happened but I just felt a block so many apologies for taking so long.

As you click the little green button, you feel unnecessarily nervous. “Hello.”

“Hi.” He replies, and the smile that graces your lips can be heard from the other end of the phone.

“Doc. I’m glad you called.” You try to play it cool, but you know he can sense your excitement anyway.

“I’m glad you asked me to. Look, I’m on my way to a case right now, but I was thinking that when I get back we could do something? Go for dinner, maybe?” He sounds as nervous as you feel, and your heart spikes a little.

“Dinner sounds great. Have you thought of a place?” You do a little spin in the living room of your small apartment and you hear chatter in the background of the call.

“There’s this little restaurant that I normally get takeout from. I know them pretty well so they’ll keep me a table on short notice. They’ve got everything so statistically there’s bound to be something you like.” The way he speaks reaches a spot in your brain, fast and passionate, even about the most mundane things.

“I know I’m gonna like it because you do, and I trust your taste.” You bite your lip, wondering if that was too much.

“You should, I’m very particular.” His voice betrays the fact that he’s grinning, and you match his expression.

“I like particular. Particular is good.” Your voice has dropped a little subconsciously, and he’s about to reply when you hear the familiar voice of Agent Hotchner alerting Spencer that they need him.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you when I’m home?” You almost sigh in contentment at just the sound of him, but you snap out of it quickly to reply.

“I’ll be waiting patiently, Doc. I’ll see you.” You hang up, and stand in the middle of your living room for what seems like an hour but truly is only a few minutes. Why are you so attracted to this guy you only met a few nights ago?

But you feel as though you know him, from the way Penelope has talked about him, from the time you spent together. You feel as though you know them all.

—

You just sent in the final draft of your latest article. This one had been an absolute nightmare, being asked to write a piece on climate change. Your editors loved you for your fresh takes, but after so long there was no angle on climate change that hadn’t already been written. They seem fairly happy with it, but you can’t help the nagging feeling of wishing you could have done the proposed piece on how tourism is ruining the economy like you had wanted.

Through the annoyance of knowing you could have done better, you still feel slightly more at ease knowing the article is finished and out of your hands, and that you can relax and drink your fourth mug of coffee for the day. It’s eleven am.

But as you stand to stretch your achy muscles and make some fresh coffee, your phone rings. You know who it is before you even pick up, but make sure to check anyway just in case.

‘Spencer’ flashes on your screen, and you immediately sit down on your sofa, hitting the answer button and taking a readying breath.

“Hey Doc.” Your voice is unintentionally airy, but he doesn’t seem to notice - or he pretends not to - as he replies.

“Hey. I got back from work late last night, but I didn’t wanna call in case you were asleep. I was just wondering what you had planned for tonight?” The grogginess in his voice is evident, and it raises a question before you can even think about answering his.

“Spencer, how long ago did you wake up?” The simple question makes him go quiet for a moment before he speaks.

“I woke up just before I called you.” He sounds nervous to admit it, like he’s embarrassed to be caught thinking of you so soon into his day.

“Must have been thinking about me in your sleep then. And to answer your question, I’m free tonight.” You can’t hide the tinge of satisfaction knowing he thought about you maybe as often as you thought about him.

The small breath he sucks in doesn’t pass by you. You may not be a behavioural analyst but you are a damn good journalist, and you know what that little breath means. It says “you caught me”. Was he really thinking of you in his slumber? You note it down in the back of your head to try and slip out of him later.

“Would you like to go for dinner to that restaurant tonight?” He seems to have composed himself as he asks his question, and you try not to sound too enthusiastic as you eagerly say yes. “Okay, great- that’s great! I’ll pick you up at six… I don’t drive.” The defeat in his voice makes you laugh.

“How about I pick you up?” You suggest, calming his nerves. “You can tell me where to go.” Truthfully, you had already planned to drive him. Penelope told you once how he doesn’t drive, and you called her two days ago to reconfirm. This information, however, is not something you feel the need to tell him, because it seems a little obsessive - but you were just thinking logically of course - and you don’t want to weird him out quite so early.

He seems to be okay with the idea, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t take it as a blow to his ego like most men would. The call ends after a few short pleasantries - that are actually pleasant - and you immediately get to work.

You throw open the doors of your wardrobe and go straight to the dresses, very slowly narrowing it down to two options. A flowy red dress that you almost go with, and a simple black silk dress that ends just below your knees.

This one is for special occasions, and you deemed this a pretty special occasion. As you rummage through your box of shoes and stack of earrings trying desperately to find earrings and heels in the same colour, you come across a pair of purple strapped heels that you know you have drop earrings in a similar shade to. You just can’t find them.

Suddenly you notice that it’s 12:30 and your brain short circuits. Your entire room is thrown upside down and inside out until you find the earrings you’re looking for, and then neatly arranged back to its original state, all within thirty minutes. Now you have your little purple dewdrops and your outfit is complete, but you have four and a half hours until you need to leave and you know you’ll need it, albeit mostly to panic.

Four hours passes and you’ve showered, shaved, styled your hair and put on some light makeup. Your nail polish is just dry and you have your dress on, so you buckle your heels and stand. Twenty five minutes before you can leave. That’s not bad. You just have to wait twenty five minutes… But what if traffic is bad? You should probably leave fifteen minutes early for that, right? And if you think about it, the time between leaving your house and getting to the car wasn’t considered in the time it would take you to get there, and if you drag it out that’s a good five minutes. So really you only need to leave in five minutes. But what’s the point of waiting five minutes really? You should just leave now. Good idea.

As you park at his apartment building you realise you may have been a little over eager. The drive was ten minutes shorter than expected, so you’re around thirty minutes early. Which is embarrassing, so to speak. But you decide to head up early, a gut feeling telling you that it’ll be beneficial.

As you knock, he immediately opens the door and then a sheepish look comes over his face. “I saw you get out of your car.” He nervously rubs his hand on the back of his neck and it makes you smile. Then you take in his attire. He looks similar to when you met him in the bar, although he’s wearing white converse to match a white shirt underneath his brown suit. He’s also sporting a watch, and - most importantly - glasses. Damn those fucking glasses.

You realise you haven’t responded and are now intensely looking at his eyes, and he looks a little uncomfortable.

“Shit- sorry. I was just looking at you- I mean you look good- Great! You look great. You look… pretty. I like your glasses, do you wear them often?” Although you can feel yourself rambling into oblivion, you somehow can’t stop the flood of words that come out of your mouth.

His mouth opens for a moment as though he might speak, and then it shuts again. He stands aside to let you come in. “I never let you in.” He comments, sounding apologetic.

You shake your head in reassurance. “That’s alright, I wasn’t sure if you would even be ready since I’m so early. I never meant to be, I just kind of over thought it and now I’m here.” You wring your fingers together. Spencer noticed that you do it as a nervous habit when you met in the bar.

“I was ready an hour ago, I’ve just been reading while I waited for you. You can sit.” He motions to his sofa, and you sit next to the armrest so that you can turn and lean your back against it to face him sitting a little away from you. “You look beautiful. You remind me of a painting called ‘Madame X’, you probably know it. You could almost be a modernised retelling. Did you know that the painting caused an extreme public discourse as people thought the artist, John Singer Sargent, made the woman look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed.” He says all this with a little grin, and you can’t help but grin along with him.

The decision to tease him comes before you can truly think about it. “You think I look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed, Doc?” As the words come out of your mouth, he pales slightly.

“No, of course not! You remind me more of the principle. The woman was so beautiful she was renowned for her looks. Painters had all but begged her to do a portrait before, but she declined until she found Sargent. But even then, the people of Paris thought the painting didn’t do her beauty justice. Despite this, the painting became famous and beloved for hundreds of years around the world, and to this day is still considered a work of true historical art. A timeless beauty. That’s how I think you look.” His passion for little things shines through again, and your mouth is left slightly agape from his words.

“That was…” You can’t even think.

“A lot, I know. I tend to ramble a lot. I don’t really notice that I’m bothering people until it’s too late.” He rubs the back of his neck again, and the thought of people being bothered by him sends multiple emotions running down your spine.

You reach over and grab his hand with one of yours, the other going to touch his face. “I was going to say, that was awfully considerate of you. Never assume that you’re bothering me. Talk quite literally as much as you please, I want to know what you want to say… If we weren’t on our first date I’d readily teach you exactly how much I enjoy when you talk, but that can be saved for another time, maybe.” Your voice drops nearer the end, and he picks up on it as he sucks in a breath and nods vigorously.

“Definitely- I mean yes, sure. I will keep that in mind.” He’s still nodding as you smile at him, a proper smile.

“You’re pretty when you get flustered. You get all red, from the tops of your cheeks all the way down your neck.” You silently wonder if it goes further. You wish you could check. The hand on his face trails down his neck as you speak, emphasising what you mean.

He gets redder. How can he get redder? “Pretty. You’ve used that word on me twice now.” The comment seems to be more of an observation than a question, but you answer it as though it is one.

“I think you’re pretty. Handsome is a word I dislike. It reminds me of Ken, like Barbie and Ken. You’re not a doll, you’re a man, who just so happens to be pretty. I could call you beautiful instead, I’d say that adjective very accurately describes you too. Gorgeous, if that’s something you prefer.” You relent as the redness gets impossibly worse, and it makes you feel a little guilty. “Sorry, Doc, I just like seeing you flustered. I’ll call you handsome or something more masculine if you’re more comfortable with that.” You give him a little smile and pull your hand from his face.

He wouldn’t say it out loud but he wishes you would keep it there. He grasps your other hand tightly in his, and he shakes his head. “I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you feel like… You’re wearing purple. Purple is my favourite colour.” He looks away for a moment, and it warms your heart.

“Purple suits you, as a favourite colour I mean. Mine is green.” Your voice holds a gentleness in it that comes with caring for someone. It’s baffling. You’ve known him days. A week at most. You shouldn’t feel so… warm around him.

“Green makes sense. I think purple looks best on you though, which is definitely coming from a place of bias.” This makes you laugh, small and breathy, but he smiles at the sound.

You don’t realise how much time has passed until you hear a buzzing noise, and you both realise it’s a phone ringing. It’s coming from the other room so you assume it’s Spencer’s and he quickly gets up to answer. You can’t hear much from the wall between you, but when he comes back through looking thoroughly disappointed, you can tell it’s a work call. “Serial killers don’t stop for first dates sadly.” You remark, and he looks a little surprised.

“How did you know?” He questions, coming closer to you and you stand up to face him.

“I may not be a behavioural analyst, but I can tell what that face means. It means ‘I’m so sorry but I have to go stop murders’.” You smile to try and reassure him, but you can see the cogs whirring in his brain.

He seems to be thinking too many thoughts to process, but suddenly he dips down and kisses you. It’s short, but it’s soft, and you have a look of surprise on your face as he pulls away. “I wish we had gotten to go on our date, but I really wish that this doesn’t stop us from going on another one.” He looks at you in anticipation, and you melt.

“I wouldn’t pass it up for the world, Doc. Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll drive you there. We can plan the next one in the car.” You kiss his cheek and go to sit back down, and he shuffles away to his bedroom with a stupid smile tugging at his lips.

A/N: So… thoughts on part 3 with newly established relationship reid x reader ? Equally, thoughts on me adding smut somewhere along the line?

[trickstarbrave]

astarion fic written.... this is the first draft i gotta go back in and reread it in a couple days (so my brain can reset and see the typos/mistakes). pardon any mistakes and typos and junk when it gets posted to ao3 hopefully most of those will be gone

of note: this is he/him pronoun tav and astarion. spawn astarion, not ascended, and set just after the four way with the drow twins. nothing explicate but yknow. references to sex.

i just have certain feelings about thinking you're ready for something when you're not.

The twins had both left, allowing Tav and Astarion a few moments to collect themselves. The rest of the party had returned to camp, but the two of them were allowed the comfort of a proper bed for the night after Astarion’s skillful technique. 

Tav, however, had a sinking feeling in his chest since he caught a glimpse of Astarion’s eyes. Astarion’s movements were precise, even the at times seemingly wild movements were calculated. His body was also just as beautiful as Tav remembered it from that night in the grove--his skin was a pearlescent bone-white, the fabric laying over it a shimmering, sinful red before it was removed, and his body lean and gorgeous, as though carved by the gods. He was the image of temptation, every moan and gasp perfectly arousing, getting Tav’s blood pumping.

But… Astarion’s kisses weren’t the same. They were like that same night, in the grove. Before, Tav didn’t know any better--he thought that was just how Astarion kissed. But now he knew differently. They first kissed differently deep in the shadow lands, after that blood artificer tried to get Astarion to bite her, which Tav refused seeing Astarion’s disgust. Sure, the potion could have been incredibly useful, especially if he knew he was going to have to fight an avatar of a god deep in the bowels of flesh and sinew that was the Absolute’s nest. But it wasn’t worth it to Tav--Astarion had been through too much to pressure him into using his body once again. Tav felt like he’d be no better than Cazador forcing him to give pleasure to others for his own benefit. 

That first, genuine kiss was completely unlike the ones that night in the grove. Instead of perfect to an almost frightening degree he was… Clumsy. Soft. Astarion gasped ever so slightly, his lips trembling and eyes fluttering shut. It was warm, wonderful, and honest. Honest in a way their night of passion in the grove had not been. Awkward like a newborn deer taking its first few steps, as Halsin would say. But gods if Tav didn’t adore it; Astarion, someone so cautious and afraid was willing to trust him. Willing to try. And every soft, gentle kiss afterwards had Tav’s heart racing like he just got out of battle. 

Those weren’t here. Astarion’s kisses tonight felt calculated and cold once more. The warmth and earnestness was gone. Sure, his touch felt incredible, after all it was impossible for it not to when he was so practiced, but it wasn’t satisfying. It left Tav feeling cold inside. Like he might have done something horrible. 

He finally reached over, after mulling over what to do next, gingerly taking Astarion’s hand. His vampiric lover gently curled his fingers around his hand in return, giving a sly smile.

“Did you want a cuddle?” Astarion offered, his voice mirthful and almost teasing, before Tav rolled over, a serious look in on his face. Instantly though, Tav regretted it as the playful smirk quickly faded and Astarion looked nervous, clearly wondering if he had done something wrong. 

“Are you alright?” Tav asked, his voice soft and quiet, reaching out with his other hand to cup Astarion’s cheek. 

“I--Why do you ask?” Astarion questioned in return, now going defensive. “Was it not up to your standards?” 

“It’s not that,” Tav began, running his thumb over Astarion’s hand. “Astarion, you could never disappoint me.” Astarion still seemed tense, not relaxing. “You just seemed… Far away. Distant.” Tav clarified. “Like you were going through the motions instead of enjoying it.” Astarion’s hand now trembled slightly in his grasp, and Tav started to feel anxious he was going to push Astarion away without realizing it. But he didn’t pull him closer, afraid that might make everything worse. He’d already begun, quitting now and telling Astarion to forget it would just make it worse as well, so he might as well finish the thought and resist the urge to smother him in a hug. “I’m just worried about you, love.” 

“I-I…” Astarion’s voice trembled. “I said I wanted this.” Astarion said firmly. “I said I would leave if I disliked it.” 

“But did you enjoy it?” Tav asked, his voice gentle and soft, “Or did you just not hate it?” 

The shaking got worse, as Astarion’s grip went tight. 

“You… Looked like you were enjoying it. The twins looked like they were too--” His voice was trembling, tears threatening to come through.

“Astarion,” Tav’s voice went even softer, a gentle whisper. Astarion may not think of himself as delicate, but Tav knew far better, and knew he needed to treat him as such. “You’re allowed to stop, even if you don’t hate it. I want it to feel good for you, not just tolerable.” Tav pressed a soft, feather light kiss to his forehead. “I just want you. All of you. Not just your body.” 

He hadn’t expected actual tears to follow. And from the looks of it, Astarion hadn’t either. He looked almost frustrated by the tears pouring out of his eyes, his voice trembling with every sob. 

“I--I don’t know what to do with you…” Astarion sobbed. “You are so infuriating. So frustrating…” Astarion’s hands shook as he moved to pull Tav into a tight embrace, clinging to him as though if he didn’t he would lose the only tether to reality he had. “It would have been so much--so much easier if you just rolled over, you know. So much gods damn easier…” 

“You know I can’t ignore you.” Tav whispered back, gently stroking his hair as he kept his embrace firm but not too tight. “How could I turn away and ignore that? I know you too well for that, Astarion.” 

“I hate that sometimes…” Astarion hissed. “I hate feeling--feeling vulnerable. I can’t even tell a little white lie without you picking up on it. I can make two prostitutes moan and sing and act like they owe us money, and the whole time you’re lying here worried about me?” 

“Because I care about you.” Tav replied. “I care about you, love. More than anything.” 

“I said I was ready,” Astarion sobbed, hissing and cursing about the tears still flowing uncontrollably. “I wanted to find my own desires. I wanted to finally see what it was like free from Cazador’s shackles and yet…” Astarion growled. “I continue to act like his slave!” He shouted, eyes screwed tight and teeth bared. “I continue to act like I have no say in it. I continue playing a part in bed, only caring about what you want, what makes anyone else feel good--!” 

“Hush,” Tav stroked the tears from his cheeks. “It’s alright to make mistakes. You wanted to see what it was like, and you thought you were ready. There’s no shame in that.” 

“Of course there’s shame in that!” Astarion suddenly pulled away, now sitting up and burying his face in his hands. “You wanted a fun night, and here I am ruining it!”

Tav sat up as well, wrapping an arm around his shoulders slowly and cautiously. “Astarion you aren’t ruining it--”

“I’m sitting here sobbing like some--some deflowered maiden!” Astarion continued to cry. “Of course I’m ruining it! Here you are, having to sit here and comfort me, all because I’m too pathetic to shake this off.” 

“You are not pathetic.” Tav stressed, pulling him in close again. “Astarion, you went through hell for two gods damn centuries. It isn’t easy to just recover from that.” 

“And what if I never recover!” Astarion snapped, finally pulling his face from his hands, snarling like a feral animal. “What if I’m like this forever! Slicking about in the dark, crying after sex time and time again?!” He was trying to look angry, but his eyes looked so sad and scared, terrified. He was putting up walls again, trying to shove Tav away before he could leave on his own violation, just like he always did when he was scared. 

“I’m… Gods,” Before Tav could even think of a response, Astarion was burying his face again. “I’m broken.” 

“You are not broken--” 

“Yes I am!” Astarion hissed. “How can you call this anything but broken?” He was choking on his sobs now, barely able to speak. “He broke me--”

“Then you’re nothing that can’t be put back together again.” Tav pulled him into a firm embrace, putting Astarion’s tear stained face on his shoulder. “Maybe you won’t be the same as you were before, but you’re worth it.” Tav pressed soft kisses to his hair, letting him continue to cry and sob. “I’ll love every little crack and chip in you, Astarion. Even the parts of you that are missing, I’ll give you as much time in the world to fill them in as you like. However you like.” Astarion once again clung to him. “And if you can never have sex again and enjoy it earnestly, then I won’t pressure you. I want you to be comfortable and happy, Astarion. You deserve it, more than anything.” 

Silence followed, the only sound being Astarions broken sobs for some time. He was continuing to get all the emotion out it seemed, crying it all out, cathartically sobbing from all the pain he had endured. All Tav could think about was how this wasn’t fair to his lover, but he didn’t dare mourn the person Astarion could have been. This Astarion deserved his love, no matter what horrors he had endured. He deserved love, and kindness, and patience. He deserved someone to hold him as he nursed his wounds, someone who would love him through the whole healing process, no matter how many steps back he took nor how long it took. 

Eventually though, the sobbing died down, and Tav took them both down to lay once more against the plush mattress. He took his time gingerly wrapping Astarion in the soft blankets, carding his hand through Astarion’s now messy hair and rubbing gently at his scalp. 

“Gods,” Astarion grumbled. “I’m going to look hideous tomorrow.” He groaned with disgust, still sniffling. “My eyes are going to be so swollen and puffy--” Tav snorted, resisting the urge to laugh loudly. “Tav, dear, we need to find an herbalist before we go back to camp.” Astarion was curled up comfortably on his chest now, his voice lighter, if not a bit hoarse from the crying. “I need a compress for my eyes. I refuse to go back to camp looking like a wreck. Gods know what the others would say. I have to look my best, after all.” 

For all his peacocking, he knew this was just his way of trying to keep safe. Breaking down in front of Tav was one thing, and while he cared deeply for the others, he didn’t know how to handle too much genuine concern for his well being. After two centuries of torment, genuine kindness was as alien to him as the sun, and so much brighter and overwhelming than he had ever imagined. No doubt the others would fuss over him, wondering what was wrong or what happened. Karlach would offer to beat someone up, Shadowheart would no doubt hover around with that look of anxiety she always had when someone was upset, and La’zael would confidently challenge him to combat to take his mind off things. It would be endless streams of the others trying to comfort him, and that would no doubt make Astarion more uncomfortable with it all.

In time, he would get used to being vulnerable around others. But right now, he was still delicate. His wounds were still too raw. Like an injured cat, he didn’t like being around others when he was hurting. 

“Of course we can.” Tav reassured him. “You can just tell the other’s your voice is hoarse because of all the moaning I had you doing.” Astarion snorted at that.

“I think not,” Astarion proudly replied, “What if they want to try out your skills for themselves, hm?” Tav chuckled again, unable to stop it. “I want to keep you all to myself, you know. I refuse to let La’zael drag you back to her tent and break you in half.” 

Astarion then surprised him, leaning in to press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. It was like all the other genuine ones, clumsy, soft, tentatively loving, and oh so warm. It left him feeling breathless all over again, like every time before. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful…” 

“So are you.” Tav replied, still holding him close. “The most beautiful elf in the world.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Astarion’s smug reply came. “Even when I’m crying I’m still gorgeous, aren’t I? But that will be a show I reserve only for you.”

[tarlos-spain]

Chapter 02

@trickzill-art Here you go the new chapter

He had everything ready, the table perfectly tidy, a steaming cup of tea by his side and a plate with his favorite cookies. He had put on the playlist that had helped him so much to write his first novel and the videos of natural landscapes that made him feel good.

Santiago was convinced he had everything ready to start writing the first chapter of his new novel. After all, the prologue was done, he had already introduced his protagonist, he could see Sam and the image of Joshep as a teenager made him smile, because he was perfect for the character.

What could go wrong? If it was a good day, he could have a draft of chapter one so he could revise it and send it to Oliver. Before the end of the day, he would no longer have the pressure of having nothing written, and he wouldn't have to keep getting the constant messages from his editor asking how the new manuscript was coming along.

He sat in front of the computer, took a deep breath, and put his hands on the keyboard ready to begin.

And suddenly the message came.

Oliver Talbot: Santiago, my boy. I woke up today with the feeling that you are going to make me happy. Tell me I'm not wrong and that our new book is on the way.

The last thing Santiago needed at that moment was any kind of pressure. But apparently Oliver felt differently.

Me: I don't know if I'm going to give you joy, but I've got a prologue done, no big deal, a couple of pages. I was going to get on to the first chapter now.

Oliver Talbot: I send you all the good vibes possible to be able to read something soon... Do you know when that will be?

Me: If you let me, I'll try to write the first chapter today. But for that I have to concentrate and you know I don't take interruptions well. It's not something compatible with inspiration.

Oliver Talbot: Of course, of course. I just want you to keep in mind that I have to tell something upstairs. And when I say tell them I mean show them. You remember that, right?

Me: I remember it better now than I did five minutes ago. Thank you for not giving me any more pressure when I was going to get down to writing.

Oliver Talbot: My pleasure. I'll talk to you tonight to see how prolific you managed to be today.

Santiago waited a few seconds to see if any more messages came in, but nope. Apparently his editor had already gone quiet making him nervous. He tried again to concentrate on the computer screen.

On the top of the page, he had written the words Chapter 1. He prepared to continue and tried several things. The first sentence of a book was always the most complicated, it was the one that set the mood for the rest of the manuscript and so he had to be very careful with it. He tried it one way, then another, he started with one character and then another. Ideas came, then others did, but none of them really convinced him.

Almost an hour later, after drinking half of the tea and having the other half already cold and frustrated because he had not managed to write that first sentence, he decided to watch a little television to disconnect and try again later.

He just managed to watch one episode on Netflix and want another but not to get down to writing.

He grunted, grabbed the computer, shoved it in his bag, slung it over his shoulder and left the house. He needed to go somewhere where he could concentrate for at least a few hours and be able to start writing.

Going to the Finca del Café was his first idea. After all Joshep was his great inspiration for writing. He had thought maybe he should tell him that he wasn't stalking him if he was now going to spend half a day, every day, at his job looking at him.

He went straight to the counter to order the same as the day before. He smiled and looked around for Joshep, but only saw his partner and one other barista he'd seen a few other days working there.

"Something tells me you're looking for someone." Said the young woman with the golden hijab around her face and a tender smile.

"No, I'm not looking for anyone, I just wanted to know if..."

"I saw you two talking yesterday and I saw how you were looking at Joshep. Relax he noticed too, but he's not here yet." She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to look at the time. "I hope he comes soon because Josh, our manager, doesn't like delays, can I get you something while you wait?"

"I'm really not waiting for him. I'm a writer and yesterday I got the inspiration I needed to start my new book."

"Of course you did. And that inspiration has a name." She smiled again. "Tell me I'm good for you to go along with your inspiration."

"Not-too-hot mocha choco with a shot of cinnamon."

"Coming right up. Go sit at yesterday's table if you want, I'll bring it to you in a minute.”

Santiago accepted the barista's offer and settled at the table by the window. He had always believed that seeing things happening outside could help him find some unique scenes for his stories.

Although Joshep didn't arrive for another thirty minutes, the place itself was enough to allow him to begin writing his chapter.

2 September - Sam

At seventeen, when you are the daughter of two of the most renowned doctors in the country, you feel invincible, even though you are just a child. In the hospital where your father works, they look at you, they greet you and the most novice interns worry you about your father, about his character, about how he likes to work and if they can do anything to get his attention.

In high school, part of which your parents support every month, each of them paying huge sums of money to show how much they love you, even if they are on the other side of the country or spend all day in the hospital working, you are the queen, they idolize you, they look at you with respect and envy. You have friends wherever you want, because everyone wants to be close to you and having the perfect boyfriend seems like the easiest thing in the world.

At seventeen, however, the first day of school is terrifying, because when you're about to leave for school, you're not even close. When you're about to go to bed the night before, you realize that your reign is coming to an end, the life you've known for your entire existence has an expiration date, in nine months, when the school year ends. Then the queen will leave her crown, the queen will leave her throne and Arya Stark in Game of Thrones will become a nobody wherever she goes.

Those were my first words, in the new diary I started that night. It was my tradition, new course, new journal. I had a shelf full of all the journals I had written since my penmanship had been good enough to express my feelings.

For that last course I had chosen a much more adult design. Over the summer I had become interested in the photos of a new clothing designer. It was unique, my father hadn't been cheap to get it but the surprise of his gift had been incredible.

I had taken a moment to listen to the sound of the pages opening and the characteristic smell of a new book, which always made me smile.

I filled in the first few pages and put it away in my nightstand drawer. I was exhausted, nervous and also a little scared, because of the new course.

Like every year, I had spent the weekend looking at the photos of all the classmates of the new course. I knew most of them perfectly well, but there were always new people and I wanted to be sure I knew what I was going to meet.

There was a new girl, Ekaterina Petrov, recently arrived in the United States from Russia; her father was a basketball player and her mother a television star in her country. Ekaterina stood out for her good grades, although two years ago she had dropped half of her subjects, although the high school report did not say why.

There was also a Japanese boy, Aiko Yamada, an orphan and apparently heir to a small fortune. It said that it had been a traffic accident from which Aiko had barely escaped with her life and had been in a coma for a week. In the report, he said that he had been left with sequelae that slowed him down when it came to memorizing.

Finally there were two Spanish twins, Daniel and Veronica Torres. Their mother was a businesswoman and had moved to the United States to open a new location for her business. Nothing was said about the father

If you are wondering how I had access to the list of all my classmates, let's just say that the head of studies passed through my father's hands in the hospital because of an intoxication of something bad.

We were going to be twenty classmates; one of my friends had moved with her parents to Miami and another boy, Matt Douglas, with whom I never got along with was not still in school either. So once I was sure I had a handle on all my classmates, I went to the kitchen to make him tea as I do every night and got ready for bed.

The tea took away my nerves, while I read a little. Every night before going to sleep I read a chapter of whatever book I was reading, so when I noticed that my eyes were closing, I put the book aside and curled up in the bedclothes.

My father wouldn't be back until after two o'clock. He always made sure I noticed, when I left my keys in the hallway cabinet or when I went upstairs, he would come to my bedroom door and whistle softly.

Before eleven o'clock, exhausted after a very long day, I fell asleep.

A little later, the impossible happened.

It was a start, there was no denying it, and his typing speed was good. He was happy with what he was doing, then he heard the sound of the door opening and when he looked up, he realized that Joshep was walking in, with a huge smile on his lips and he almost seemed to be able to hear him humming.

"Have you seen what time it is?" Amara said pulling him and pushing him towards the storeroom so he could change clothes. "You're very lucky Josh isn't around yet, because you've gotten off easy."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, but I promise you I had a good reason for my delay, one he's not going to like too much." Amara stared at him waiting for him to keep talking, like someone waiting for a bomb to go off. "You know that store Rick and I were looking at last week? The one that would be perfect for opening my own coffee shop?"

"I remember you dragging your boyfriend last week to look at a local while he was on the phone with I don't know what client of his. I think you could have taken him to the zoo and he would have been just as interested."

"Don't say that, Amara. Rick is always tied up with work. It's not easy being the best real estate agent in town for three years in a row without working very hard."

"Yeah well...I remember the place, yes."

"I've signed the contract to buy it," Joshep said with a few small hops and an even bigger smile on his lips. "You're not saying anything?"

"You bought it with Rick's money?"

"It's not Rick's money, it's what we have put into the joint account...even though most of that money is Rick's, yes. I'm putting in as much as I can from my paycheck."

"You put most of it in, because it can't cost you much for the mousetrap you live in."

"Do you always have to be so direct?"

"You know I do and you know I'm usually right. You know also that I only want the best for you because I love you so much. You are one of my best friends and I would hate for you to get hurt or have your heart broken."

"Amara. I know you don't like Rick, but I'm sorry, we're in love we're doing well and, I don't know, I guess after we get going with the coffee shop, the logical thing to do would be to think about getting married."

"How about before you embark on a business venture or get married you two move in together?"

Joshep murdered his friend with his eyes. It wasn't the first time Amara had said something like that to him and he couldn't say she was wrong. Many times he had tried to bring it up when talking to Rick. It seemed normal that after five months together, Joshep would move into the huge two hundred square meter apartment Rick had downtown.

He couldn't wait to be able to leave the small thirty-meter space that he was renting in Brooklyn. Besides, if he hadn’t to pay rent he would have been able to save even more for his coffee shop.

However, every time they talked about it, Rick seemed to have a ready-made reason to dissuade him. Either they hadn't been together long enough, his house was going through some remodeling, or he was simply too swamped with work to think about moving, even if he wouldn’t be the one uprooting his everything. Last time he had told Joshep they were fine as they were and Joshep had simply, as always, accepted it.

"When do you plan to tell Rick then?"

"He'll stop by today so we can have a bite to eat together on my break. I bought his favorite cake to celebrate."

Amara shrugged, he didn't like Rick, though he wasn't a bad guy, he simply wasn't Joshep's better half. They had nothing in common, except apparently a lot of chemistry in bed. They had different friends, opposites even. Rick was an office man, with a briefcase and tie, on the hundredth floor of a skyscraper, working glued to a laptop and cell phone all day, while Joshep was happy on the other side of a bar, meeting new people every day. He loved working in front of the public, putting on his converse and apron. He enjoyed the shifts because, he said, it allowed him to meet different types of people every day or every week and on top of that he was giddy.

"Well, while you're waiting for your prince charming to come, you might like to know that someone else has come to see you." Amara motioned him toward the table where Santiago was sitting.

The writer was looking in their direction and raised the second cup of coffee toward them. Joshep smiled back and grabbed the soap and two washcloths to wipe down the tables around Santiago's.

"Hi." Joshep greeted him. "You're back. Is it because the coffee we make here is exceptional or because you needed a place to write again?"

"A little of both." Santiago didn't want to say that his real reason was to see him again and hoped it wasn't too noticeable. "I hate writing in the silence of home and since I wrote a prologue here that my fans like," Joshep smiled as he took the hint at that comment. "I decided not to break the magic."

"Have you been able to keep writing then?"

"I'm on chapter one. Do you want to read it?"

Joshep looked at the clock. "Give me half an hour and I'll get myself a coffee."

I'm not a gullible person, but I'm not going to deny that I like romance novels where the fascinating sinister guy, usually a vampire, fallen angel or demon who has escaped from hell, approaches the girl and ends up falling in love with her.

So, when I opened my eyes and found that pale, huge dark-eyed face staring at me from outside my window, my first thought was that I had become the hero of the next hit teen novel.

I blinked, maybe I was dreaming, maybe I wasn't there, maybe it was just my imagination. But no matter how much I opened and closed my eyes, there was still the vision of the perfect face; perfect eyes, the half-open mouth in which I almost imagined seeing two discreet fangs protruding and his neck line, also perfect.

Despite the darkness surrounding him, you could see his black, curly hair.

He was staring at me, he seemed not to have noticed I was awake or maybe he was waiting for me to go back to sleep to escape from there by taking a superhuman leap or even flying.

I looked at him a moment longer, smiled, was tempted to get up, go to the window and say something to him, but he was just standing there, still, like the most beautiful sculpture of antiquity, that I just lay there on the bed, afraid that maybe he could open the window with his powers or even go through it, although I had never seen a vampire going through glass... but who knows how vampires really act.

I took a deep breath and prepared to finally get up, but as if he had read my mind, the supernatural-looking stranger disappeared.

I jumped out of bed and ran to the window the few steps to the window, but when I got there I saw nothing but the empty, dark, silent street of my housing development.

I waited, though I wasn't sure what I really wanted to happen. Did I want a complete stranger who had been spying on me from my window for quite a while to show up again? Did I want to accept that I had been dreaming and had seen something that wasn't really there?

It mattered little anymore.

The beautiful ghost vampire had vanished.

Joshep handed the laptom back to him after reading the first chapter of the book. He stared at Santiago for a moment and then took a sharp breath.

"It's great. I assure you it makes me feel the same as "The Beat of a Rebel Heart". I want to know more about these characters. and I already imagine there's going to be a lot of drama, but I hope Sam finds love."

"Well, I'm still thinking about it, but the truth is that Sam is becoming a pretty special character to me and I've only met him recently."

"You'd want to say you've only recently created him, or are you the type to talk to your characters as if they were right next to you?"

"Yes of course, Sam is not real, of course not."

Santiago laughed nervously and just as he was about to say something, the cafeteria door opened again. Joshep squeezed his shoulder and jumped up. He said goodbye with a "talk to you later" and ran over to the newcomer, jumped on his neck, hugged him and kissed him on the lips.

"Hey baby." Joshep said to the newcomer. "I was afraid you couldn't get away from the office."

"Well actually I only have a quarter of an hour, but I wanted to see you, you sounded so excited on the message. What's up?"

Santiago noticed that the other man didn't really look happy as he hugged Joshep, he didn't have the same twinkle in his eye as the barista and wondered if Joshep noticed that.

"I've bought the place to set up our coffee shop."

Rick lost what smile he had. "You've done what?"

[goddess-of-green]

Hello..

I dont know why i did not find you before....like you have written exactly the things i always wanted to read...specially those about Tobi.It looked like nobody wants to write about tobi.....not obito,i exactly mean Tobi,i hope you understand what i am trying to say.But the way you portray him,its very beautiful actually.

I was reading all your works....and they are amazing,they make me feel things.I always had a soft spot for Tobi.So,i have a request.Can you write something NSFW where Tobi is in love with the reader,but he is too inexperienced in such matters,though he wants it all but dont know how to initiate,and behaves too innocent and sweet,the reader kind of teaches her how to do things....

Aw, this is so sweet! Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoy my portrayal of Tobi! (this one has been sitting in my drafts for quite a while so i'm sorry! I feel bad getting to it so late!)

Warnings: NSFW, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, (soft)fem!dom, edging

You were on your bed in the Akatsuki hideout, reading since you didn't have any missions scheduled for the day.

In fact, you and Tobi were the only ones that didn't have a mission for the day. Something that Tobi was counting on as he knocked at your bedroom door.

You didn't look up at the sound, finishing the chapter you were reading and noting the page number before setting down your book and going to the door.

You opened it, unsurprised to see Tobi there. He seemed fidgety, and nervous, which wasn't very uncommon for him recently.

His feelings for you were clear. He didn't care to hide them, and you didn't deny him when he sought your affection.

Maybe while you were laying down, he would lay down with you and curl up against you. You would never fuss about it, only wrapping an arm around him.

What you had with Tobi wasn't spoken, but it was understood. You both sought comfort in each other and had a bond stronger than most comrades or friends did.

You never spoke about your feelings for Tobi, and he never spoke about his. But just like Tobi's feelings, yours were apparent. You felt the same as Tobi, though you weren't quite as clingy as he was.

"Yes, Tobi? Is there something you need?" You asked him, patiently.

Tobi shivered, nervousness grasping him even despite your gentle tone and calm body language.

"T-Tobi... needs Y/N-Chan. He wants her." He replied, fiddling with the sleeve of his cloak.

Tobi didn't make it clear what he meant by needing you, but you understood nonetheless. Despite your mutual like for each other, you had never initiated any sort of sexual contact. Not even a kiss.

You tilted your head, considering.

"Very well," You nodded, grabbing his hand as he continued to mess with his sleeve. "Would you like me to lead?"

Tobi perked up, as if he didn't believe what he was hearing. "Y-Yes, please! Y/N-Chan..."

You smiled, gentle and small. It wasn't much, but you didn't smile often anymore, and in Tobi's eyes it was beautiful. You were most beautiful when you were happy.

Pulling him into your room, you closed the door behind him; locking it just to be sure you wouldn't be disturbed.

Now standing in the center of your room, you held both of Tobi's hands in yours. He looked to you nervously, awaiting your guidance.

"Before we begin, Tobi. Tell me... why do you want this?" You asked, looking at him as you waiting for his answer.

Tobi seemed caught off guard, relaxing after a moment as he considered his answer.

Tilting his head, he finally answered.

"You... make me feel different, Y/N-Chan. Special. Tobi feels so special. He wants to make Y/N-Chan feel special too. And... he wants to be close with Y/N-Chan. Tobi wants to be.... intimate with you. To see you and for you to see him. He wants it all with Y/N-Chan."

You looked at Tobi, surprised by his answer. He really felt all that for you? His admiration was clear, but you did not know it was so intense.

And suddenly, there it was on your face again.

A smile.

Tobi shivered again, as you smiled at him. So perfect, so pretty...

His Y/N-Chan...

"I feel the same, Tobi." You smiled.

"Now," You started, one of your hands left his to tug at his cloak. "Can you take this off?"

Tobi nodded quickly, pulling back slightly to unzip his cloak and take it off completely. He folded it and set it on your bedside table.

Underneath his cloak he had on a skintight black shirt, covering most of his torso. The shirt went all the way up his neck, and down to his gloves.

You poked his abdomen, your lips twitching up at his tickled giggle. "Do you mind taking this off, too?"

Tobi hesitated slightly, but nodded after a moment. Slipping off his gloves and his shirt, careful of his mask as he lifted the shirt over his head.

He had some scarring on his right side, and what looked like grafted skin, but you didn't comment on it. He seemed perfectly healthy and there was no need to make him feel insecure over something small as appearance.

He slipped his sandals off without your prompt, and you nodded as he looked to you for confirmation.

Slowly, you brought your hands up to Tobi's mask.

"I understand... if you are uncomfortable with this request, but... may I see your face? I would like to kiss you..." You said.

Tobi seemed to be contemplating, and after a moment, he shook his head. Grabbing your wrists and lowering them gently. "Tobi is sorry... he feels so strongly for Y/N-Chan... but he cannot show her at this time."

Tobi tensed, dreading to disappoint you, but your expression did not change. You only nodded.

"I understand. May I...?" You asked, your hands wandering to Tobi's pants, and he tensed up.

Swallowing heavily, Tobi nodded stiffly. Scared, but excited.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to Tobi's throat as you pulled his pants down.

You lowered yourself to your knees as you brought down his pants and underwear.

He was already embarrassingly hard, he had worked himself up quite a bit before he came to you.

Tobi was flushed all the way down to this neck, embarrassed by his arousal and worried for your reaction.

Your eyes darkened as you saw his erection, standing tall and needy, a bead of precum running down the reddened tip.

Without warning, you grabbed the base and leaned forward, licking the bead of precum as he shivered and gasped.

"A-Ah! Y/N-Chan!"

You pulled away, tasting him on your lips as you finished taking off his pants, him lifting his feet to assist you in pulling them off.

You rose to your feet, and gestured to the bed.

"Please lie down on your back, Tobi."

Tobi complied, feeling vulnerable as he laid down for you, completely bare except for his mask.

You slipped off your shirt and shimmied out of your pants, taking care of your underwear as well before you joined Tobi on the bed.

You climbed over him and straddled his waist, noticing his nervous swallow as you ran your hands down his chest.

You smiled at Tobi, feeling him relax slightly under your fingers. "Alright, Tobi. We need to establish a safeword."

Tobi tilted his head, "Safeword?"

You nodded. "Yes, a word for one of us to say if we feel uncomfortable or are in pain, and want the other to stop what they're doing."

Tobi nodded slowly, taking in what you said.

"Is apple okay?" You asked, waiting for an answer as your hands traced over his muscles.

"Apple? Um, o-okay." Tobi replied, agreeing easily.

"Right then, say apple if you want me to stop at any time." You said, your tone starting to take a husky turn as your hands traced down his hips.

Tobi let out a shaky sigh as you teased him, your fingers moving over his skin as you avoided the place he needed you most.

You grabbed Tobi's cock and relished in his pleasured whimper as you smeared his precum over the tip.

"Ah, Y/N-Chan~"

You brought his member to your entrance and let out a soft sigh at the brief pressure on your clit.

"Are you ready, Tobi?" You smiled as you lined him up.

He could only nod shakily as you lowered yourself onto his member, and you moaned at the way his cock stretched you.

He groaned, shivering at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing his cock.

Bottoming out, it was all Tobi could do to not immediately cum. The strong and quivering grip he had on your hips told you he needed a moment to adjust.

You smiled as Tobi tried to even out his breathing, and you were more than tempted to grind your hips into his, but you waited for him, knowing it would be over too soon if you weren't patient.

After a moment, Tobi squeezed your hips, and his breathing had been returned -somewhat- to normal.

You smirked, running your hands up and down his chest once more before grinding into his cock, and moaning at the way it rubbed your insides.

Tobi whimpered again, his hips weekly bucking against yours as you started to move at a steady pace.

Bouncing on his cock, you couldn't help but moan at the way his cock hit your spots.

Tobi whimpered and moaned beneath you, his mouth hanging open as his eyes remained trained on where you two bodies met.

He felt his end approaching quickly, and all he could do was push his head back against the pillow and savor the way your walls squeezed his cock so perfectly.

He started to have muscle spasms around his hips and thighs, and with the way he twitched inside you, you knew he was close.

You slowed to a stop, and Tobi whimpered at the loss of movement, weakly bucking his hips against yours before you pulled yourself off of him completely.

"Y- Y/N-!" Tobi gasped, panting as he tried to regain a shred of composure. "W- Why did you stop?" He panted out pathetically, desperate for his release.

You brushed your thumb over his hips, the soothing gesture only marginally effective as Tobi's cock ached for you.

"I'm sorry, Tobi." You murmured, kissing his chest as his breathing slowly started to regulate. "I want to get off too."

And with that you sank back onto him, relishing in his harsh gasp and how his hands shot up to grasp your waist as you grinded into his hips.

And quickly, Tobi started to rise to his peak again, feeling the coil of pleasure winding tightly in his abdomen.

And you felt your orgasm approaching as well, biting your lip in a futile attempt to smother your moans as your thighs started to shake and your hips started involuntarily bucking against Tobi's.

"Fuck, Tobi!" You moaned, reaching your peak as Tobi groaned underneath you.

Your cumming face, your pretty noises, your contractions around his cock, it was more than enough to push him over the edge.

Whimpering more than groaning, Tobi released inside you, filling you up with his seed as he got lost in his pleasure.

You and Tobi breathed heavily for a few moments, basking in the afterglow and starting to come down from your highs.

You slowly pulled yourself off of him, and grabbed a towel.

Tobi was sweaty and tired, but satisfied. He vaguely registered the feeling of cloth against him as you cleaned him and yourself.

Noticing Tobi hadn't really moved from his place at all, you smiled.

"Was that any good, Tobi?" You asked, laying down beside him and wrapping your arms around him.

Tobi curled into you, only able to hum as he drifted off.

[helliontherapscallion]

Who? (Forlorn Tale of Dionysus Part 2)

Part 1

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,843

(A/N): I’m not exactly sure if this will continue any further, this was just a fun little thing I had in my drafts for a while after some interesting convos in my discord server (which you totally should join, it’s a vibe). This is lowkey word vomit, but eh. This is all strictly platonic btw

“Michael, are you sure you saw a house out here? I really don’t think-” You were interrupted by your much shorter friend yanking on your sleeve to get your attention. You looked down at him in question and watched as he raised his hands.

‘I am sure I saw that house, (y/n)! It is here somewhere.’ 

You fiddled with the sleeves of your thick coat with unease, “alright, but if we don’t find it soon I wanna head back. Uncle Boo and Uncle Tubbo are probably going to start to worry.”

Michael huffed at the mention of his parents. You knew how overbearing they were, causing your friend to crave new experiences and adventures. You’d known him for a couple of years now and he was rebelling more with each passing day. You could relate slightly, Philza and Technoblade had hardly let you out of the house without another person to accompany you. You never really understood why, you were almost thirteen now so you should be able to explore what you want. 

An excited squeal left your friend’s mouth before he started to pull you towards something in the distance, startling you out of your trance. You matched his pace with ease and felt nervous excitement tingle in your chest. 

As you got closer, you could make out small details of the cabin. It was a simple small cabin built out of spruce planks with glass windows and a brick chimney, but you liked it. It strangely felt homey. 

You pulled Michael into a nearby shrub underneath a window and peered in. The interior was also as simplistic as the outside was, looking untouched and tidy as if nobody was living there. You could see that the ceilings were taller than average, perhaps a hybrid of some sort lived here? 

Michael tapped your shoulder, ‘it doesn’t look like anybody’s home right now. Let’s go in.’ 

You opened your mouth to object before the sight of his set jaw and his eyes dead set on something inside made you close it. You learned from experience that when he was this determined, there was no stopping him. You sighed, “fine, but the second we get caught, it was your idea.” 

You both made your way to the front door. Without a second thought, Michael twisted the doorknob and swung the door open. A startled snort left his throat as he stumbled inside, making you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He jabbed the side of your lower torso, ‘shut up, I thought it was going to be locked.’

He pulled you inside and you both explored the living room. Bookshelves and portraits lined the walls, a single large couch sat off to the side, and the fireplace mantle was lined with a few small golden hooks. Michael made a beeline towards it, admiring the metal. It seems that’s what he saw that made him so determined to get inside. You hoped that he wouldn’t steal them and explored the area further. 

The portraits on the walls were a slight shock to you, they all included some people that you could recognize; in one you could make out a picture of younger versions of Ranboo, Philza, Technoblade, and Niki. Technoblade and Philza were sparring with shining golden swords while Ranboo and Niki sat in the grass on a hill watching with interest. Maybe this was just one of their old cabins? 

You saw people that you didn’t recognize as well. Namely a cat hybrid with striking sapphire blue eyes, a man seemingly human (you say seemingly because your eyes caught sight of pointed ears) wearing a white bandana keeping his jet black hair out of his face, a tall man with green freckles and a creeper mask, an anthropomorphic diamond block with beady black eyes and a wide smile, and a man that looked strangely like Ghostbur except he was wearing a uniform of some sort. However, a demon quickly caught your eye and made your heart leap for joy. There was someone out there that was like you! 

The man looked kind, always wearing a cheery smile and occasionally waving at the camera. He was tall and lanky, always towering over the others by a considerable amount. That made sense, Philza had told you that demons were naturally very tall when you asked him why you were growing faster than Michael when the zombie piglin was two years older than you were. Large wings and horns akin to yours sprouted from his back and head respectively. If he wasn’t constantly smiling, you would’ve thought that he was malevolent. 

You heard the rapid footsteps of Michael’s boots behind you as you turned around. You bounced on the balls of your feet excitedly, “Michael look, another demon! Do you think he lives here?”

You watched as he shrugged and pulled you towards the kitchen. ‘I don’t know, but look! There’s another demon that looks exactly like you!’ 

On the kitchen table surrounded by various trinkets (bottles of wine, gold bricks, stale bread, and the decomposed remains of flower crowns and bouquets being the majority of the items) laid a framed picture of said demon lazily smiling and looking off to the side. Michael was right, they looked exactly like you except at least a decade older. Everything matched your physical features to a tee; from the red accents on their black wings to the way they smiled, it was like they were your clone. The only thing of yours that they were missing was the three circular birthmarks on your forehead. It was eerily uncanny. 

Your eyes widened before you snatched the picture off from the table, studying them further. If you squinted, you could see that there was someone barely in frame. You flipped the frame around and took out the picture, unfolding it. In the picture was your adopted father and adopted uncles and aunt. What was going on? If they knew the demon, why didn’t they ever tell you about them? 

‘Woah, that was smart. Do you think you might be related to them or something?’ He tilted his head before he perked up, ‘could they be one of your biological parents?’ 

“Maybe, but if they were, why didn’t my dad tell me about them? I… have a right to know about them, right?”

He nodded firmly, ‘you definitely do. It’s kind of fucked up they haven’t told you anything about them.’ 

“Yeah, it is. Do you think something bad happened to them?... Oh shit, is this a memorial?” You hurriedly refolded the picture and put it back into its frame. 

Michael’s eyes widened and flickered around the table at the trinkets before he fished out two gold bars from his pocket and placed them onto the table. You crossed your arms, “what the fuck man?” 

‘I thought they wouldn’t miss a few pieces of gold! You would’ve done the same thing if you were a piglin,’ he defended himself before he paused and shuddered, ‘we’re in a dead person’s house, that’s creepy… What if their ghost is right behind us?’ 

You spun around and put yourself slightly in front of Michael, your heart beating in your throat. Nothing was there. Michael snorted, making you slap his arm, “not cool, man.” 

You were about to stomp off until a piece of paper caught your eye. It was a drawing of this person done in messy purple crayon, probably done by a very young child. It was signed by a Michael. 

You turned to the wheezing zombie piglin and patiently waited for him to stop laughing. When he did, you showed him the picture, “did you draw this? Did you know them?”

He scrunched up his brow in concentration, squinting at the paper. Eventually he shook his head slowly, ‘I don’t think so. At least I don’t remember drawing it… This is getting weird.’ 

You nodded in agreement, putting the drawing back onto the counter. You walked towards the stairs and climbed them. They creaked under your foot loudly, a part of you was scared that you would fall through them. It was clear they haven’t been used in some time. 

They led to a small loft, the ceiling coming to a point far overhead. A part of you was glad that this stranger (relative? Parent?) was a demon, it wasn’t often that you found lofts that fit all six and a half feet of you. 

Like the rest of the house, it was very simplistic. A gigantic bed laid in the center of the furthest wall, made neatly with multiple fluffy blankets, part you was tempted to catapult yourself onto it. On the nightstand next to it sat a redstone lamp and a frosted glass of water, cracks spider webbing up the sides presumably from the cold. 

You opened the lone drawer and discovered a book. Upon further inspection, you discovered that it was a journal with the name (y/n) written inside the cover. So this person had your name as well as your looks? This merely raised more questions than answers, so you slid the book into a pocket in your coat to read later. Under the book laid another picture of them posing with the strange group of people from the portraits downstairs. The de- (y/n) looked younger there. On the back, the word family was written and it was dated to be about twenty years old. You also pocketed the picture.

Michael walked over to the window and looked out at the vast tundra only to squeal in alarm. He ran over to you and pulled you downstairs. You looked out the window only to yelp when you saw a few crows standing on the window sill staring at you with their beady eyes. 

You and Michael ran out of the house as fast as the both of you could, the snow being slightly tough to run through for the five and a half foot tall zombie piglin. You could hear the crows following you overhead. After a while of running, you both finally got back to Snowchester and raced past Ranboo and Tubbo. You hid in Michael’s room with the curtains tightly drawn. 

You sat on his bed with your legs crossed and your back pressed up against the headboard. You let your head bang against the wall and you ran your hand down your face. “We’re fucked, dude. We’re literally so fucked.”

‘Uncle Phil’s still out of town so it’ll probably be a few days until they find out.’ Michael plopped next to you, panting and trying to regain his breath. “Still, we’re gonna be in so 

much trouble for going that far out. I didn’t think my dad’s crows were still here.”

‘Might as well read the journal you found before we get grounded.’

You nodded and took out the journal, flipping it open to the first page. You both read the journal until it was dark outside and Michael was passed out on your shoulder. Subconsciously, you wrapped your wing around him as you read the journal. 

The other (y/n) acted like you did for the most part, the only differences between you two was the lack of swearing and the fact that they felt alone even when they were surrounded by people. Your family’s names were dropped several times, especially when they were talking about ‘The Syndicate’. The code names they used were after various Greek myths, leading you to believe that Technoblade was one of the founders of the anarchist group. 

You had learned that their family (potentially your family?) was strangely possessed by an egg and that they were previously possessed by said egg. They had a brother named Sapnap (your potential uncle?) that helped them escape to the tundra. It was there that they found the Syndicate, reminding you of the found family tropes you would read in books. The last journal entry detailed their last mission, how they were going to destroy the Eggpire from within and get their family back. That entry in particular gave you chills, even someone with half a brain could tell what happened to them after that. 

By the time you had closed the book, it was dawn and the sun was peeking out from behind the closed curtains. You shook Michael awake and stretched out your aching body. Your neck muscles protested movement, sending a wave of pain across the area. 

‘Damn, did you stay up all night reading that?’ 

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I? I needed to find out about my biological parent somehow. I just- nothing makes sense, Michael.” You growled out, your voice deepening and distorting slightly as your frustration rose. 

‘Chill! You’ll figure it out soon, let’s just focus on staying under the radar.’ 

“Too late for that.” 

You both jumped and fell off the bed as you heard Philza’s voice. In the doorway, Philza stood with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Technoblade by his side, all looking equally angry and disappointed. Next to you, Michael shrunk in on himself and smiled sheepishly. He was about to raise his hands to sign, but a pointed look from Tubbo next to him told him that there was no getting out of this one. 

Behind the anger, you could tell that something changed about the way the four were looking at you. You couldn’t tell what emotion they were hiding, whether it be wariness, longing, sadness, or just more unleashed anger, but you could tell that they knew something you didn’t. If the frustration that overcame you when you were reading the journal at the lack of questions answered burned inside of you, then what you felt now was a blazing inferno. 

“We’re going home, grab your stuff (y/n).” 

After a short staredown with the older man, you huffed in anger and gathered your things into your bag. The entire time, tense silence filled the room. Your hands were shaking with the rage you felt searing every inch of you. You could hear the sharp flicking of your pointed tail cutting through the air and occasionally hitting objects near you. 

When you were done you stomped over to your adopted family and shouldered between Philza and Technoblade, speed walking down the hallway. They quickly caught up with you after saying a quick apology and a goodbye, Technoblade grabbing your arm and holding it in a vice grip. 

They led you out of the mansion and into the harsh winds of the tundra. It wasn’t until Snowchester was far off in the distance that Technoblade shook your arm, “what the hell were you thinking, going into someone else’s house like that! You don’t know who lived there, you could’ve gotten yourself and Michael killed!” 

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?” You ripped your arm out of his hold and spoke in a low voice, struggling to contain your full rage. “I have a goddamned right to know about them.” 

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Philza muttered out and resumed walking back towards your house. “You’re grounded when we get back, no flying or dueling lessons for two weeks.” 

“Of course you know what I’m talking about, Dad! Why are you hiding them from me? I have a right to know about my biological parent even if they’re dead!” 

They both halted in their tracks and glanced at each other in slight confusion. “What-”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. Gods, I can’t believe you thought I’d never find out,” you laughed sardonically as your hand subconsciously gripped your growing horn. “(Y/n)! You know, the demon that lived in that house? The one that looks exactly like me?! Does that ring a bell or do I have to show you this?” 

You rummaged in your pocket and ripped out the picture, shoving it into Philza’s hands. Technoblade looked over his shoulder at what you gave him. You watched as their expressions turned blank when they saw the demon in the picture. 

Minutes passed with them continuing to stare down at the picture and you were slowly getting impatient. “Why did you never tell me about them? Why are you keeping me from them?!” 

Without looking up at you, Philza mumbled, “you weren’t supposed to find out about them. You were never supposed to find out.” 

“Do you have any idea how ambiguous that is? Just tell me who they are!” You could feel your eye twitch as your frustration grew. 

You could see the internal conflict on Philza’s face growing by the second before he dipped his head downwards and stalked off in the opposite direction of the house. You spread your wings to chase him in the air, but Technoblade’s hand on your upper arm stopped you from lifting off. 

When you looked up at him, the look of regret and sorrow etched into his features caught you by surprise. “Let him go, he needs to do some thinking… (y/n), do you know what reincarnation is?”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur  @nottheotheruser  @ohworm-writes  @localwolfanon  @realitycanbeajerk  @v10dw4lk3r  @esylwen  @seraphsema  @boiled-onionrings  @smolgreenybeany  @louistommosnesquickmilk  @hyacinthrosearsha  @ryxjxnnx  @autumnpleaves  @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @0ton1n  @self-righteous-dumbass  @a-simp-for-block-people  @fortunatelylazystranger  @m1lkmandan  @mirios-sunflower  @ahmya-4  @shinipii  @noyasblush  @auroraskyfall  @cryptocry  @hee-hee-haw  @blackstar-gazer 

Gender neutral reader taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@totem-awooga  @parkeepingparker  @whatislifebutlemons

[atlabeth]

fever - sokka x reader

this has been sitting in my drafts half finished for 3 weeks so i thot it was prime time i actually finished it

this is kinda based off the song w dua lipa and angele so you can listen to that if you want

summary: sokka's convinced there's a mystery illness keeping you from focusing, but somehow he's completely oblivious that the only 'sick' you are is lovesick, and he's the reason you can't focus.

a/n: i have never written a sickfic. but this is like. a fake sick fic. its an idiots in love fic. i mean this is coming from mr "is he taller than me? is he better looking?" himself so. it makes sense. as usual, this is not proofread bc im a lazy mf

also im sorry for being vague with the calc but i was NOT about to do math during summer who do you think i am? ??

wc: 1.7k

warning(s): mentions of being sick and 🤢calculus 🤮 but otherwise tooth rotting fluff

-

How could the smartest man you knew be so, so incredibly stupid?

You thought that you were being obvious, so obviously that you were sure he knew. It was embarrassing how obvious you were.

You had met Sokka in your calculus class at the start of the new semester after you ended up sitting next to each other, and it wasn’t a stretch to say that you were immediately smitten. With eyes like the ocean and a face that had to have been crafted by the gods, you were almost too distracted to respond when he asked you for a pencil. But when he winked at you after giving his thanks, it only solidified what you had already suspected: you had known this man for all of five minutes, and you already had a crush on him.

Little did you know, it was going to turn into the most infuriating crush you had ever experienced.

You and Sokka became fast friends even though calculus was the only class you had together. Unfortunately, it was also something that you completely sucked at. Bad news, it was required for your major. Good news, Sokka was some sort of genius and offered to tutor you — Wednesdays in the library turned into a weekly occasion, and served as an opening for your calculus skills, your feelings for Sokka, and your exasperation to all grow stronger.

You normally weren’t someone to beat around the bush. If you started to like someone, you told them and dealt with whatever happened after, but something about Sokka just kept you from spilling your feelings outright. You knew that if he didn’t feel the same way, your relationship likely wouldn’t change, but there was still that tiny voice that said it’s better to stay like this in case things do go wrong — and this was the first time you listened to that voice. You simply valued your friendship too much.

But that didn’t mean you were going to be completely quiet about it — you hoped that if you did enough, he would be able to realize you liked him and do the whole process for you. A bit of a dim hope, but crushes make people do stupid things.

Things like bringing an extra coffee to every session, laughing at all his jokes (even the bad ones), sitting a little closer to him than usual, not dropping out of this wretched class so you could spend time together (it might’ve been required, but you still counted it). He didn’t make a point to object to anything, so you knew you weren’t making him uncomfortable — but you had concluded after nearly a whole semester of working and studying together that he was the most oblivious person in all of Ba Sing Se. He could teach you all kinds of formulas, but had no idea that you liked him. Grand.

Today was arguably the most important session out of any of them, seeing as your next class was the final, so it was only fitting that Sokka unknowingly made himself more interesting than any material you could’ve been working with. His arms were going to be the death of both you and your calc grade. You swore that the heat rushing to your cheeks was actually emanating off of you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sokka grinned as he saw you and raised a hand in greeting, a sentiment you would’ve returned had it not been for the coffee cups in your hands. You settled for mirroring his grin and settled down in the seat across from him. You slid his coffee cup over, set your own down, then shrugged your bag off all before taking a seat.

“You ready to study ‘till your eyes bleed?” he asked, prompting a nervous laugh from you.

“You jest, but my eyes might actually start bleeding depending on how long we go,” you sighed. “There’s a reason I got an extra shot of espresso today.”

“Come on — by now you should know that you have nothing to worry about! I am the best teacher there is, and you got me all to yourself.”

Your eyes widened momentarily and you coughed, purposefully averting your gaze to give yourself some time to recover. Okay, he was going to make it really hard to focus today. “Let’s just get into it.”

He nodded and flipped open his notebook, beginning to talk as he rifled through his bag for a few extra things. “Okay, we’re just gonna start with going over the basics, then we’ll work our way up. There’s a couple practice problems on that page, so you can go ahead and answer those as a warmup.

You slid the notebook over in front of you and after approximately five seconds of looking at the first problem, found yourself studying Sokka rather than the material. Who could blame you? In the battle of cute tutor boy versus calculus, he was going to win every time.

He turned around and you immediately averted your eyes once again, trying to appear extremely involved, but you found that your mind was empty on anything to do with math. “Hey, uh— how do you do this first one? I’m totally blanking here.”

“We use limits in everything — this is actually something you’re really good at!” He studied you intensely and frowned. “Are you okay? Like, you’re not sick or anything, are you? You seem kinda out of it.”

You choked out a laugh and shook your head. “No, no — I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired.” As if to demonstrate your lie, you took a sip from your coffee and cringed internally. Love had turned you into an idiot.

He seemed to buy it as he nodded and picked up the pencil, scribbling a couple of notes as he explained the first problem to you. “Does that make sense?” You nodded and he handed the pencil back to you. “Okay — the other ones follow the same kind of process. It should be easy enough.”

You managed to get a little further in the second problem, but your lovestruck mind would not stop focusing back on Sokka every time you tried to do, well, anything. Curse him and his perfect arms, and eyes, and hairstyle, and everything.

You shook your head and set the pencil down once more, letting loose a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Yes, you did. “I just can’t focus at all.” Because of you. You picked up your cup once more and took a sip, hoping it would do something to get you back into the math state of mind.

Sokka frowned once more as he put the back of his hand against your forehead. “God, you’re hot.” You nearly choked on your coffee as your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets — he had to know what he was doing by now — how could he not? “Like, you’re completely burning up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I swear— I just…” you set your cup down on the table and heaved a sigh that was a touch more exasperated than necessary. “Are you telling me you seriously haven’t noticed? Like, not a single thing this whole year?”

“I’ve noticed a lot of things this year,” he chuckled. “It’s kind of our whole job, so you’re gonna have to be a lot more specific.”

You finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Sokka, I’m not— I’m not sick! Haven’t you noticed that I’m only ever flustered, or running into things, or forgetting info, or— or just a complete idiot when I’m around you? I like you, like, a lot, and I have for an embarrassingly long time! The reason I can’t focus is because I am hopelessly attracted to you in every single way.”

His brows creased for a moment and you clamped your mouth shut, worried that you had just ruined everything. It was only after a pause that felt like a century that he finally responded, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Well, why didn’t you just say something?”

You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in pure surprise before the annoyance set in. You set your jaw as your brows furrowed and you hit him lightly on the side of his arm with the back of your palm. “You can’t be serious! You— you’ve gotta be messing with me by now. I really can’t believe that you can be that smart but this oblivious!”

He finally let the grin play across his lips in full force and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I don’t know how you don’t expect me to mess with you when you scrunch up your face all cute like that every time you get mad. Besides, I started liking you after that fifth class; I offered to help you out so I could spend more time with you! I didn’t realize you felt the same way. I kinda just enjoyed the free coffee and getting to look at you all the time.”

“I can’t believe you!” you cried as you hit his other arm. “You’re telling me that I had to deal with this- this mental turmoil about whether you liked me back, while you were just enjoying the free eye candy and coffee the whole time?”

“You have nothing to worry about! I enjoyed the company far more than the coffee,” he joked, a certain twinkle in his eye. “But, you are probably out a couple twenties after all of that. So, what do you say about this Saturday, the cafe by the shoe store? My treat.”

“Damn right it’s your treat,” you shot back, though you couldn’t stop the smile forming on your face. “You owe me a lot — you have to make up for those coffees and all the emotional distress you caused.”

“Oh, I think I’ll have plenty of time to make up for lost time. After all, we do have a lot of coffee dates to get through.” And when he winked at you just like that first day, you remembered just how impossible it was to be angry at Sokka. “But first, we kinda have to get through this study date. The final’s still happening tomorrow.”

You responded with a raised brow. “This is a study date?”

Sokka shrugged and grinned. “They’ve all been study dates. You just didn’t know it.”

-

idiots in love idiots in love idiots In LOVe

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

atla: @marianne1806

[capypub]

Summer Wine (Ch. 12)

Bruno Madrigal x Original Female Character

Chapter Rating: G

(Masterlist)

Mila was pleasantly surprised by how quickly Bruno had put his word into motion. They had started planning an afternoon every two to three days where they could just be with each other, whether that be lounging in his room, sometimes napping, going on an evening walk, picnicking by the river, or even something as simple as laying in field near Casita. They talked about making time for each other the night after getting back from the river, Bruno even made a point to gather the drafts he had written and place them in a drawer for the night.

As the date of the ceremony approached, Marisol couldn’t help but do some reflecting on her own. As she sat in the backroom of the cantina, replaying all the events that led up to this point, she toyed with the ring on her finger.

“Something on your mind, mijita?” her mother asked as she brought supplies in from the back entrance.

“Just…nervous about the wedding,” she shrugged in response, looking down at the shining emerald jewel.

“Are you having second thoughts?” her mother questioned, moving closer to the younger woman.

“No, mamá, of course not…just…you know, thinking…” she said, sounding unsure of herself.

“Mari, don’t stress yourself too much, these things are normal. I’m so glad you found someone who makes you as happy as your papa has made me for over twenty-five years,” the older woman said soothingly, rubbing her daughter’s back.

“What if…what if, I don’t know, I…I’m scared?” Marisol questioned more to herself than her mother.

“That’s also very normal, mija,” she said softly, “you’re going to be a beautiful bride with a wonderful husband waiting for you and all will be well.”

“Were you nervous when you married papá?” Marisol questioned.

“Oh, of course, mijita, I was terrified. I felt like I would pass out once those doors to the church opened, but then…” she sighed, looking off into the distance as she reflected on her own wedding, “but then I saw your papá waiting at the altar, ah, he looked so handsome…and I knew everything would be alright once I made it to him….”

“Oye, Sol!” Rafi called from the front as her mother kissed the top of her head affectionately.

Both women looked towards the doorway leading into the main room of the cantina. Marisol’s older brother stepped into the backroom, holding a half empty bottle of guaro with a rag over his shoulder.

“Bruno’s here,” he said before ducking back through the doorway to keep an eye on the bar.

“Oh!” Marisol chirped, jumping up from where she had been sitting, but hesitantly looked back at her mother.

“Go ahead, mi vida, you deserve some time alone with your fiancé after all the stressful planning,” her mother encouraged, squeezing her hand softly.

“Gracias, mamá,” Marisol beamed, kissing her mother’s cheek before darting out to the front.

She spotted her amante sitting at a table occupied by some of the older villagers, in the middle of a game of dominos. She approached him silently, analyzing the board as she wrapped both arms around his neck, bending over to kiss his cheek.

“Are you winning, mi viejo?” she teased, her lips brushing the curls near his ear.

“Absolutely not, mija, your esposo is about to lose for the third time this week,” Lorenzo, one of the regular customers to the cantina snickered, playing his next move.

Bruno chuckled, placing one of his dominos down, inevitably ending the game as Lorenzo was able to play his final piece. Standing up, Bruno shook the older man’s hand, joking about a re-match soon before turning his attention to the woman who still clung to him.

“What bring you here? I thought Mira was helping you edit your book?” she asked as they sat in a booth away from the noise of the afternoon crowd.

“I decided to take a break, see my beautiful betrothed and perhaps bring her over for dinner,” he shrugged, his hand finding her across the table.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” she agreed, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands.

“Pepa wanted to see your dress and give you something, I think, I wasn’t really listening,” he shrugged, rolling his eyes.

“Sure, I’m getting a final fitting in a couple days,” she nodded as he traced patterns into her palm.

“How are you feeling, mi amor? About everything?” he asked, meeting her eyes, his own reflecting his own underlying nerves.

“Something between nervous and excited,” she replied with a shy smile, “I can’t wait to be your wife, but…the actual wedding and reception have had me more on edge with each passing day,” she shrugged.

“We still have time to make changes, mi vida…if something simpler and quieter would make you happy, I’ll gladly make it happen,” he offered, raising her hand to his mouth, lightly kissing her knuckles.

“Everyone has worked so hard for us, though,” she responded, “I wouldn’t want them to think we were ungrateful for their efforts.”

“So thoughtful, mi amor,” he chuckled, holding her hand against his mouth.

“Are you nervous?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“I’m always nervous,” he joked, chuckling softly, “but in terms of the wedding, well…I think I’m most nervous for having to stand in front of the whole village, but…I can’t wait to be your husband so…I’d gladly stand before the entire world if that meant I get to call you mine in the end.”

She beamed at his sweet words, leaning over the table to kiss him quickly. He held her hand tighter when she pulled away, grinning bashfully as he glanced around the cantina to make sure no one was paying any attention to them. While she knew Bruno had become very comfortable with public displays of affection, he also kept his displays to a minimum out of respect.

“Are you needed here right now? I’d like to spend time with mi amante before dinner,” he asked, looking down at their intertwined hands.

“I’m sure Rafi can handle things,” she nodded, allowing him to lead them out of the building, giggling as he pulled her along to the back of the building that faced the jungle, sectioned off by two long strips of fencing built by her father.

When they finally stood behind the wooden planks of the fence, she grinned as he grasped her jaw between his hands, kissing her softly, sighing in content. Gripping his wrists loosely, she returned his kiss with enthusiasm, tilting her head just slightly.

“When will you let me read your draft?” she asked, pulling away, the lightness of her tone and smile making Bruno’s body relax further.

“When it’s finished,” he smirked, taking her hand, leading them out from behind the fence, towards the plaza.

“What?” she gasped jokingly, “I thought I’d get to be parting of the editing process too,” she pouted.

“I don’t think so, mi amor, I want this to be the best possible version before I let you see it,” he shook his head, still grinning softly.

When they reached the center of the plaza, most of the villagers seemed to be occupied with their booths or other tasks. Marisol spotted Julieta near the well, passing out food to those lined up with various injuries. The oldest triplet quickly spotted them and smiled, waving them over.

“Hola cariños,” she greeted them warmly.

They both greeted the oldest sibling before sitting with her to help, keeping up a comfortable conversation as the line became shorter and shorter for the day. Julieta had informed them that Alma had been keeping very close tabs on the wedding details, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect. Such an idea had Marisol tensing again, her fear of disappointing her future mother-in-law as well as the rest of the family starting to rise to the surface again.

“Mamá can fret all she wants,” Bruno said as he rolled his eyes, “I just want the day to pass as quickly as possible.”

Marisol nodded in agreement, smiling at her betrothed as he handed another arepa to a waiting villager. She’d watched his confidence grow so much over their time together and had to admit when he held himself up in a such a way, it was extremely attractive, stirring something in her chest and between her legs.

“What are your feelings about everything, Marisol?” Julietta questioned, her tone casual and calm.

“I think I’m just ready to be Bruno’s wife, the rest of the details are more to please everyone else,” she admitted with a shy shrug.

“Ah, you two are truly meant for each other,” she said with a light laugh.

As the food began to run out and the line eventually ending, they helped her collect her things and walk back to Casita. Bruno was quiet as the two women conversed, occasionally adding his input but preferring to listen.

When they reached the kitchen, Marisol offered to help with dinner. Of course, this meant Bruno chose to stay in the kitchen as well, finding a spot near the island to sit, content with just watching his amante cook and prepare. Julieta on the other hand had other ideas.

“If you’re going to be in the kitchen, you’re going to help,” she stated simply, handing him a knife and a cutting board, telling him to start chopping the vegetables.

“You know I can’t cook, hermana,” Bruno huffed, pouting as she placed a bowl of carrots in front of him.

“You’re not cooking, you’re cutting, now get to it,” she said with a snap of her fingers, her tone shifting to one of an older sister who has had years of practice keeping her siblings in line.

With a huff, Bruno picked up the knife and slowly started making his way through the various items placed near him. All the while, Marisol was grinning, seeing her lover interacting so naturally with his family. As she helped prepare the meal, Julieta spoke of what’s been going on with her daughters.

“I think Isabela is seeing someone,” she said, stirring the contents of a pot on the stove, “but every time I try to ask her, she denies it.”

“Mira and Luisa haven’t said anything, either?” Marisol asked.

The older woman shook her head. “I don’t think they know either, even after everything that has happened, yes, they have gotten much closer, but I guess this may be something she’s not ready to share with anyone.”

“In time, Julieta,” Bruno spoke up, “she’s a smart girl, she’ll say something when she’s ready.”

They helped finish preparing the majority of the meal before Julieta shooed them away to gather the family. Bruno couldn’t help but feel excited, knowing that soon this would be his everyday life, going about the rest of his days with Marisol by his side to keep things interesting and, much to his sisters’ relief, keep him in line. He couldn’t help the goofy smile on his face during dinner, too lost in his daydreams of the future to hear what was going on around him. He didn’t even realize his mother was talking about wedding details until Marisol pinched his hand, bringing his mind back down from the heavens.

“Hm?” he asked, looking at her, only slightly embarrassed by being caught not paying attention.

“Your mamá is asking for a date, so she can tell el padre tomorrow after mass,” she said, smiling nervously.

“O-oh, right, um…I-I, uh, I’m not sure, what do you think, amor?” he asked.

“Preferably sooner than later, mijo,” Alma intervened, “your mamá cannot wait forever,” she added with a raised brow.

Marisol giggled softly under her breath, ducking her head to mask the noise. Bruno, feeling his face heat up under the hard stare of his mother, fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, looking to his sisters for help. Both of them gave a knowing smirk, having been in his situation many years ago when they were engaged.

“Uh, I-I think, maybe, if everything is almost ready, we could…um,” he swallowed nervously, glancing back to Marisol who occupied her attention with the stem of her wine glass, “maybe by the end of the month?” he said, sounding unsure.

“Ah, perfecto, I’ll make the arrangements,” his mother nodded with a satisfied smile.

“The end of the month?” Marisol asked once the attention was off of them, “are you sure, amor?”

“We could get married tonight, mi vida, for all I care...I just want to be able to call you mine,” he shrugged bashfully.

“Oh, Bruno,” she cooed, her heart fluttering at his sweet words.

She squeezed his hand softly under the table, leaning over to kiss his cheek. The rest of the meal went off without any hiccups, all talk of the wedding seeming to take a backseat as the family simply enjoyed the time together. Bruno sighed in relief when the meal had ended, and he could go upstairs to relax with his love. He rushed her up the stairs and into his room, where they could enjoy time with each other without the pressures of planning and family over them.

“We’re going to be married in a couple weeks,” Marisol said softly as they laid intertwined with each other on his bed.

“We are,” Bruno mumbled, his eyes closed as he basked in the comfort of her body curled around his own.

“It doesn’t even feel real,” she sighed, running a hand through his hair soothingly.

“It is very real, mi amor, and I couldn’t ask for a better life,” he said, kissing her shoulder and then her cheek before craning his neck to meet her lips.

“Same,” she giggled against his mouth, snaking both arms around his neck as he pulled her closer.

[kimnjss]

capital h | pjm + jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader x jimin ⇢ genre: smut. ⇢ word count: 7.6K ⇢ theme: established relationship | threesome.  ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, slight nipple play, oral (f/m receiving), threesome, semi-public fingering, humiliation kink(?), slight dom!jimin, slight switch!jungkook, slight sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, penetrative sex, unsafe sex (wrap it up, loves!). a hint of jikook at the end. ⇢ summary: after learning of the activities your boyfriend and his best friend use to partake in, you can’t help but what to be apart of them. everyone always says, two is better than one, right? ⇢ A/N: this has been in my drafts for about three months, lmao. finally, i finished it and posted it! im lowkey excited because this was a lot of fun to write, and i’ve never written anything like it so! alright, yeah... let me know what you think x.

Your damp locks laid sprawled against your boyfriend's muscular thigh. Warm fingers twisting the wet curls between his fingers. Movements slowed due to the toe-curling, orgasm-inducing, mind-blowing tub sex you just shared. The last thing you had wanted was to get out and brave the cold air, but laying here, wrapped in his sheet with nothing underneath, you didn't want to be anywhere else.

 Being in Jimin's arms was a rare occurrence these days, moments like this becoming cherished treasures that you looked forward to. Excitement was the easy way to describe how you felt when he and his six best friends were pulling up in front of your house, inviting you to spend their day off with them.

 Of course, it was all Jimin's doing, you wouldn't have met any of those guys if it wasn't for your chance meeting with the handsome dancer. They liked you enough, though. Each showed you that they accept your relationship in their own way.

 Seokjin, the oldest, had become something of a big brother to you; oftentimes taking your side on the rare occasion that you and Jimin argued. Never failed to give you insightful advice after the fact. Yoongi didn't really pay you any mind, but he thought you were cute and often times found himself cooing at you. You were closest to Hobi and Joon, becoming fast friends due to your like personalities and sense of humor. They thought you were hilarious, Jimin didn't see it.

 As for the two youngest... despite you dating his best friend, Taehyung didn't really show much interest in you, neither did Jungkook. Yet, Taehyung did put in the effort to make conversation and make you feel included, unlike the youngest male. You had been convinced that he didn't like you, until a few weeks ago when his blatant staring began.

 He'd be quick to look away whenever he knew he was caught, but he wasn't that sneaky. You never missed the cocky grin he'd try to hide or the knowing look he'd shoot in Taehyung's direction. There was definitely something up and it definitely involved you.

 “What do you think of Jungkook?” The question was falling from your lips and you had your never-ending thoughts and overthinking to blame. 

 Jimin let out a snort of a laugh. “Jungkook? My best friend, and teammate? The guy that's been like a brother to me for the past 7 years? I guess he's alright,” Sarcasm dripped from his words and you rolled your eyes, lifting your head from his lap.

 Your hand met his shoulder, gently pushing him back against the headboard. “I'm being serious. What do you think?”

 “So am I. He's like a brother to me, why?” He found this sudden interest in the maknae odd...? Especially for you. It was obvious that the two of you didn't really socialize, so why were you asking about him all of a sudden? “What do you think of him?” Jimin prompted when your answer didn't come fast enough.

 Taking a moment, you debated whether or not you should even bring this up. As he said, Jungkook was like a brother to him... what if calling out his weird behavior ended up rubbing Jimin in the wrong way and now you were without a boyfriend.

 Jimin wasn't the type for dramatics, though. Everything was comfortable with him, not many things reaching his 'serious business' radar, so this should be fine, right? Right. “He's fine...” You buffered, teeth chewing at your lower lip.

 Jimin pinned you with an expectant look, hated whenever you, or anyone, beat around the bush when there was obviously something on their mind. Taking this, you urged yourself to go on. “...I've just noticed like lately he's been... checking me out?” Mentally, you flinched, hoping the news wouldn't upset your boyfriend.

 His chest rumbled as he barked out a laugh, head cocked back as the sweet sounds left his plump lips. Pillow soft punches met his stomach as you tried to get him to focus. “I'm being serious, Jimin! He's always staring at me with that stupid face,”

 You imitated Jungkook's seemingly signature facial expression, eyebrows raised and tongue pushed into the inside of your cheek, eyes tracing over your boyfriend's body hungrily like Jungkook had done to you many times before. Another laugh left his lips at the sight of your face and you were scoffing, pushing him back again.

 “I don't know why this is funny to you. I just told you one of your friends has been mentally undressing me, you should be livid!” You were quick to silence the insecure thoughts that his lack of reaction had floating around your mind.

 It was no secret that Jimin was a jealous guy. What's his, is his... you were his! He should be enraged that some guy was looking at you like a piece of meat, he was the only one that was supposed to look at you like that. So why was he laughing?

 Seeing that you were obviously upset, Jimin was reaching for your arms, uncrossing them from your bare chest. His hands held loosely on your wrist as he pulled you toward him, landing a soft kiss to your lips. “I think it's funny because it's not a big deal. Me and Jungkook are boys, he's not gonna try anything with you.” He assured you, another kiss landing on your lips.

 “Okay, but, I heard him and Taehyung talking and-” You weren't even able to finish your sentence because he was sitting up, squinted eyes finding yours. “Taehyung was talking about you?”

 Oh, now he wanted to be jealous? Scoffing, you pushed him back against the headboard. “Yes.” You couldn't help the roll of your eyes. “I was trying to tell you. Not only is Jungkook always checking me out, but I heard them talking about you and us... and something about an H?”

 Jimin's expression softened, eyebrows relaxing as his cheeks tinted a few shades light of red. “Oh.” Crooked teeth worried his lower lip as he reached a hand up to push his hair back on his forehead.

 “Oh? What does H stand for, Jimin?” Obviously, he knew exactly what they were talking about and it was making him... blush? “It's nothing.” He answered a bit too quickly. “It's something.” Your words chased his, a slight bite in your tone.

 His eyes widened. “What are you gonna get mad if I don't tell you?” Laughter laced his words, but it wasn't the 'Ha-ha so funny' type of laugh, it was a type of nervous laugh he let out when he felt like he dug himself in a hole.

 You were nodding your head simply, shoving the blanket from your waist. “Yup!” Hopping from the bed, you began searching the room for the jeans you had ditched the second you were entering his bedroom. Jimin was sitting up quickly, voice stopping your movements just as you got your jeans over your thighs. “Alright, alright! I'll tell you. Come sit back down,”

 A triumphant smirk spread across your lips, as you crossed the room back to his bed. You sunk back down onto the comfortable mattress, crossing your legs underneath your bum as you awaited his explanation.

 “First of all, this was before I met you so you can't hold this against me,” He prepped and you nodded your head, gesturing with your hand for him to go on. “A while ago... with my exes, or just like girls that hung around us... Jungkook and I would, you know...”

 You had pretty a good idea what he was alluding to, but you weren't the type to graciously take a hint. “No, I don't know... you would, what?” He was rolling his eyes at the smirk on your lips, hands pushing his hair back out of habit.

 “Share them, our girlfriends, the groupies... It was fun, you know? Capitol H doesn't stand for anything, it's literally what our bodies do,” He let out a short laugh and you picture the way an H looked. “...So I'd be the middle part?” You clarified, your words making Jimin's eyes snap up to you.

 “Who said...” His words trailed off, brows furrowing as he visibly went through the thoughts bubbling in his mind. You didn't blame him. Despite the occasional interesting position or location, you liked to keep it pretty vanilla.

 Well aware that Jimin was more experienced than you, you didn't want to disappoint. You always thought vanilla didn't technically mean boring... at least it didn't to you. But after hearing that he use to partake in regular threesomes you couldn't help but wonder what else the other girls he's been with let him do.

 Just the pure fact that you were considering this, putting yourself in the situation was enough to baffle your boyfriend, confuse him enough to convince him that you were just fucking with him. A laugh slipped past his lips as he shook his head. “Come on, Yn. You wouldn't be into that.”

 “How do you even know?”

 “Well, because I know you. It was a long time ago, Yn. They were just talking shit, you don't have to-” Annoyed, you were cutting him off.

 “I might want to. I could be into it, you don't know. Jungkook is cute and...”

 His face was twisting, and you were afraid you had said the wrong thing. Sure of it when the words left his lips. “Are you saying you want to fuck, Jungkook?” Thankfully, he didn't exactly look angry... just a little bit put off?

 A hand reached out for his, easily lacing your fingers together. “Listen, I know I'm not that... adventurous, when it comes to sex... but if it's something that you enjoyed doing or if you just want to, I'm just saying... I wouldn't be against it.” Your thumb soothes over the back of his hand and enjoys the smile that pushes onto his lips.

 His eyes soften again, staring up at you lovingly. The confusion of whether or not you had just admitted you were into his bandmate gone and forgotten. “I promise, I like the sex we have just fine, don't worry.” He was leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull your body into his.

 Four days passed since your conversation with Jimin. More and more time was spent around their dorm, soaking up as much time with him as you could before he was jetting off to his next schedule. Being around him all day, though, meant that you were around his friends all day too.

 It wasn't a big deal, these guys were cool. At least, most of them were. In the past days, Jungkook had become bold, to say the least. Not looking away when he's caught staring, instead of waiting for you to be the one to break. On top of that, it was like the kid never knew when to shut up, always coming up with a snarky comment or undermining you but at the same time calling you 'Noona' with that boyish grin of his.

 Jimin no doubt told him all about the talk that you two had if those boys were sharing girls... there was no way they weren't sharing secrets. You don't know what you knowing about their sexcapades did for him, but it clearly had gone to his head. It'd be best to just ignore him, you decided. No matter how undeniably attractive he was, there was nothing there for you. You didn't want him. Didn't need him, no matter the dampness that ensued whenever he smirked. And of course, you didn't ever notice the size of the bulge that constantly pushed against his pants. Was that boy always hard, or something!?

 Like right now, just walking across the lawn in search of the ball he had been playing with, but right there fighting against his swim trunks... a huge boner! You cursed the moment Jin suggested a pool party would be a fun way to spend the afternoon.

 It had sounded fun at the moment. Yoongi said he was going to barbecue and you were even more convinced when your boyfriend was making his way down the stairs shirtless in his swim shorts. The sexy one-word tattoo on full display, ripples of his abs seemed to glisten, the single trail of hair below his belly button disappearing underneath his waistband.

 Yeah, you'd definitely enjoy this afternoon. So sure of it, until you were catching sight of the man that followed him down the stairs. Jungkook, of course, who else could irk you just with their presence?

 A lot taller and more muscular than your lean boyfriend, black shorts hanging loosely on his hips, giving you a perfect view of the well-worked on V-line that acted a huge fucking arrow to his dick. Gentle lips found the top of your head, a strong arm wrapping around your waist. “You look pretty,” Jimin mumbled into your ear, and you grinned, leaning into his chest.

 Jimin was always very vocal when it came to the things that he liked to see. You showing some skin? Definitely at the top of his list. Took that into account when you picked out your swimsuit for this gathering; a red triangle string bikini, lacy black flowers decorating your breasts, and hips.

 It was obvious that Jimin thought you looked good, could tell with the lingering glances in your direction as you laid on your back trying to soak up some sun. What you didn't account for was the slight chance that his friends might think the same. And by friends, you meant Jungkook, of course.

 Poor kid couldn't take his eyes off of you, not even for a second. Which explains his constant need to get out of the pool and retrieve the ball that he kept failing to catch. The situation almost funny, if the sexy flex in his arms as he pulled his body out of the water didn't always catch your attention. If your eyes weren't automatically trailing over every ridge and bump of his muscles.

 He'd smirk when catching you, toss his long wet hair before slipping back into the water. Wouldn't even wait to see the annoyed roll of your eyes, not as it mattered – he had already caught you staring, more than once. Acting as if he didn't affect you was a waste. And to make matters worse, Jimin was always right there observing each and every one of your interactions with the kid, face giving nothing away.

 Not angry, or annoyed. Just watching, as if he was curious to see what you'd do. How you'd react. As if he had put this whole entire thing in motion earlier and was observing the aftermath. 

 By the time Yoongi was announcing dinner, your body was buzzing with annoyance. Or was it desire? Either way, you were about two seconds from ripping your hair at the roots. Jimin sat beside you, the first time he was within arms reach the entire evening. He grinned, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you close engulfing you with his sweet scent. 

 Stupidly, you found yourself relaxing in his arms. Head falling on his shoulder while a hand lifted to press against his stomach. He was warm but still a little wet from the pool. You felt the movement of his head but didn't bother with lifting your head to see who he was speaking too. Stupid, because seconds later the spot next to you was being taken up.

 Guess who.

 Of course, Jeon Jungkook was slipping into the space beside you, a cocky grin playing on his most likely soft lips. His eyes flickered over to Jimin's before he was dropping his focus back onto you.

 “We've got burgers and hot dogs, and Jin is coming out with the chicken,” Yoongi called out, stepping toward the table with a tray of meat in hand. The second the food was in reach, the boys were hurrying to load their plates.

 Like the ever so dotting boyfriend, Jimin loaded up your plate as he did his. Comfortable conversation surrounded the table, voices overlapping and thick strings of laughter falling from their lips. You weighed in where you could, beaming when you were able to make a few of them laugh along with you.

 It was fun. Talking to them, getting along. Despite the fact you had been dating Jimin for a while, conversations with most of his friends were surface level at most. It didn't really bother you, but it was a good feeling knowing that if needed, you could get along with these guys.

 “No, yeah... if you're into old-time movies, you should definitely check out...” Taehyung's words were fading into the background, your attention slipping from what he was saying and to the warm hand on your thigh. Jimin's. An unsuspecting smile on his lips when you looked up to catch his gaze. 

 Just barely catching the title of the movie Taehyung was referring to, you turned your attention back to him. “It's good? I should check it out.” He nodded, all at once losing interest in the conversation, Jin's story catching his ear.

 There was a mischievous glint in Jimin's eye as he spread your legs apart, tips of his fingers trailing up your bare thigh. His head tilting until his lips were able to reach the skin of your neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses down the length.

 You felt your body melting into him. Ready to succumb to whatever he had in store for you, the tingle of anticipation rushing through your veins. A familiar heat spreading throughout your body, lips curling into your mouth as you waited. The press against your left side had your eyes snapping open, darting to the cool tattooed hand making it's way up to your thigh. Jungkook.

 His fingers inching up your thigh, closer and closer to your core while Jimin held your legs apart, fingers tight against your flesh. “If you don't like it, tell him to stop.” His words are hushed against your ear, and you're nodding quickly, hearing the sincerity in his voice. 

 Jungkook wastes no time, callused fingers finding your clit through the fabric of your bikini bottoms. He presses down, fingers moving in circles as your body jolts at the sudden friction. “She's sensitive,” He speaks as if he's taking notes rather than trying to hold a conversation. You hold your breath, legs spreading slightly. Jimin's lips fall from your skin, cheek resting against your shoulder so he can see.

 Never did you think you'd be the one to have such a penchant for something as risky as public foreplay, but here you were growing wetter by the second, the thought that either one of his friends could catch you with a simple turn of their heads. It had you unbelievably turned on, mixed with the fact that your boyfriend was watching you rather than doing it definitely added to it.

 Jungkook laughs beside you, but not at you. Delved in a conversation with Namjoon across the table as if his fingers weren't pushing your bottoms out of the way underneath the table. A long finger lazily traces over your wet folds. Jimin's chuckle covers the gasp that leaves your lips when Jungkook's fingers graze over your bare clit.

 Jin is smiling appreciatively in his direction at the support of his joke. You were going to get caught. The thought and the consequences weighing heavily on your mind, causing you to shift attempting to close your legs. “It's fine,” Jimin assures you with a whisper, strong hand holding your leg in place.

 The moment you're relaxing, Jungkook's hand is reaching down to grasp your other thigh. Easily lifting it to hook over his own, giving him total access to your throbbing pussy. It's not lost on you how hot it feels to be exposed like this, but you're not given any time to analyze what it means as soon as Jungkook traces his fingers over your entrance.

 The tips of his fingers take their time with gathering the wet arousal that had accumulated between your legs before they're moving back up to tease your tight hole. Teeth digging into your plump lip as the tips of his fingers slowly begin slipping into your core.

 Trying your damnedest to keep your face from giving away what was going on underneath the table. You force yourself to concentrate on the words coming from Namjoon's mind, although they're just words... not coherent enough to follow the actual story.

 Slowly, Jimin is reaching his thick fingers down between your legs, using his middle and index fingers to spread your lips further apart, giving him a better view. You gasp, Jungkook's fingers pumping shallowly in and out of you. 

 For a moment, your body stills, afraid you had been too loud just then. Calming when you realize none of them were looking in your direction, not even Jungkook who was the cause of all of this. No, he was seemingly wrapped in conversation with Taehyung, a teasing smirk on his lips that you guessed was meant for you.

 Jimin was the only one look at you, watching Jungkook's long fingers bury themselves deep inside of you. He's flexing them, curling and uncurling as the pad of his thumb fingers your needy clit. He's basically drooling at the sight, wet lazy kisses landing on your shoulder. His hand resting over his covered crotch, palming himself through the fabric. 

 A louder, desperate whimper is falling from your lips. This time catching the attention of Taehyung. Words coming to a halt as his eyes dart between the three of you, a wide smirk slipping onto his features. “Are you alright, Yn?” There's a teasing glint in his eye, letting you know he's not at all asking if you're alright. No, he knew exactly what was happening underneath the table and he was making it all of his business to tease you about it.

 Plastering a tight-lipped smile onto your lips, you muster all the strength you can to nod your head. “I'm fine,” There's a strain in your voice, giving him enough reason to pull a look of concern, his head tilting to the side.

 “Are you sure? You look a little flushed,” His brows furrow, topping off his fake worry and you're suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. The encounter is catching Namjoon's attention beside him, his gaze lifting to study your face. “Oh, yeah. You don't look so good.” He weighs in, actually looking worried about you.

 Jungkook takes this growing attention as an invitation to speed up the movement of his fingers. Hand tightening on your thigh, keeping you from snapping your legs shut. Two fingers plunging deep inside of you, tips brushing against the spongy spot inside of you. Jimin's domineering gaze watches your face, waiting for your response.

 However, it doesn't come. The thrusts of Jungkook's fingers, mixed with the relentless strokes of his thumb on your clit has a moan falling from your lips. It's loud and breathy, and definitely recognizable even if all attention wasn't on you. You see Jungkook's eyes widen from the corner of your eye, but he's being really careful about not looking directly at you.

 You do, actually, see him steal a glance in Jimin's direction... almost as if he's asking for guidance, but he's being ignored, Jimin's lust-filled eyes never leaving your face. “Take that kinky shit upstairs,” Yoongi speaks flatly, bored expression on his face as he stares at you.

 Jimin's hand is quick to reach between your legs, adjusting your bottoms as Jungkook withdraws his fingers from inside of you, pushing your thigh from his. You ignore the way your walls flutter at the sudden emptiness, snapping your legs shut as embarrassment reddens your cheeks and dampens your pussy.

 “Let's go.” There's no room for protest with the way he speaks, excusing himself from the table as he looks expectantly between you and Jungkook. The younger male is quick to stand, watching you as he pushes his glistening fingers into his mouth. Your heart pounds as he slowly sucks your juices from the digits.

 The other boys have turned their attention from you three, still, your body felt hot. Cheeks flushed and pussy pulsing with want. Need. You needed them, both of them. Need to have both of them on you, around you, inside you. With a breath, you're standing, following them into the house and up into Jimin's room.

 Jungkook shuts the bedroom door, flicking the lock as Jimin turns to look down at you. “You still not against this?” Eyes much softer now, gentle hands finding your hips in order to pull your body toward his. You're nodding without a second thought, want buzzing in your veins. No way were you backing out now.

 Despite the grin rapidly growing on his plush lips, Jimin was still asking: “Are you sure?” Your words chased his, hands reaching up to land on his jawline. “I'm sure,” Your lips found him, instantly being parted by their thickness. His tongue twists and tangles with yours, a single hand reaching to grasp your jaw, holding your head in place as he licks into your mouth.

 Suddenly, he's pulling back, soft eyes tinted with a dark desire. He's turning your head with the grip of his strong hand, your eyes finding Jungkook who had moved to stand directly behind you.

 Jungkook is quick to capture your lips with his. Soft lips tasting heavily of cherry, you kiss him back, body turning, melting into his as the erection between his legs brushes against your lower belly. He bites into your lower lip, tugging it slightly and pulling a whimper from his lips.

 You feel his smirk as his tongue slips past your parted lips, mapping out every inch of your mouth while his hands drop to your scarcely covered ass. Hips pushing back, involuntarily surrendering more of your ass to his. Jungkook's lips are falling from yours, hands sliding underneath the fabric of your bottoms to cup your bare ass.

 “Jungkook,” You gasp out when his hands squeeze down hard on your ass, grip pulling your body tight against his. With little to no effort, Jungkook is lifting your body off of the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He walks the two of you to the bed, laying your body onto the soft mattress.

 When he had moved was lost on you, Jimin now sitting comfortably on the chair adjacent to the bed. Hard cock straining against the fabric of his swim trunks, his hand resting over it as he watched you with his best friend.

 With your legs hanging loosely from his hips, Jungkook leans down to bury his head in the crook of your neck. Sucking wet hickeys into the skin while his large hands trail down the gentle curves of your body, fingers finding the tight bows on either side of your hips. Your breaths come out labored, rapidly losing yourself in the way he's tonguing at your skin, teeth grazing its sensitivity.

 “Fuck,” He groans, hips pushing into yours. The sound of his voice nearly startling you, with how quiet he has been since the start of all this. “I never thought I'd have a chance to have you like this,” He sighs softly against your skin. Only a second was spared for you to wonder just how often he thought about having you like this. If Jimin knew.

 Jungkook's hands were quickly traveling up your back, a single tug on the string of your bikini had it loosening around your chest. He wastes no time with discarding it, tossing it somewhere behind him before leaning down. Hot tongue connecting with your hardened bud, rolling it around in his mouth. A soft moan slips past your lips, head falling back just enough to catch sight of Jimin.

 Teeth worrying his plush lips, a hand-dipped into the front of his shorts as he watches you. Hooded eyes find yours and you swear you see his cock twitch in his hand. Your fingers tangled in Jungkook's hair, holding his head against your chest as he grinds his covered cock against the flimsy material of your bathing suit.

 Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling his closer as you lift your hips. Jimin's groan mixes with the sound of yours, Jungkook's head lifting only for a moment to catch sight of his older friend, only to drop back down mouth latching onto your neglected nipple.

 “Make her cum, Kook,” Jimin speaks hastily growing impatient with how slow Jungkook was being. How he seemed to be taking his time, reveling in each moment he had with you. Allowing himself to memorize every inch of your body while he had the chance.

 The sight demand has Jungkook's body jumping to action, teeth grazing over your nipple as his hand travels down the front of your body dipping into your bottoms and covering your pussy without pause.

 Your legs squirm while his fingers toy with your bundle of nerves a wet trail of kisses, creating a line from your breasts down the middle of your body. You're sprawled out beneath him, legs wide as you wait for what you know is coming. It's not long before his head is between your legs, looking up at you with the sexiest pout and you feel as though you could cum at the sight.

 “You're soaked,” His head is tilting slightly, licking along your slit in one click motion and you're moaning out. “I've always wondered the sounds you'd make having your cute little pussy eaten.” His thumb is covering your clit, stroking it gently as your core flutters, from the growing smirk on his face, it's safe to say he noticed.

 Strong hands holding your legs apart, Jungkook lunges forward to press his soft lips against your folds. He sucks kisses against your damp lips, tongue stroking against them slowly. You're whimpering, can feel your pussy dripping as you reach down to tangle your fingers in his soft locks.

 He's quick with the up-down movement of his tongue against your slick pussy lips, tracing over each ridge and cure but avoiding that one spot he's sue would have you falling apart instantly. Instead, kept his thumb pressed against it still, motionless.

 Your hips lift, rocking into his face while his tongue lowers to tease your wanting entrance. Large hands curling around your hips to grasp the cure of your ass, pulling your body tighter against his mouth. “Fuck, Jungkook!” The shout falling from your lips as he ups his speed, the tip of his nose nudging against your clit.

 Jimin's breathy groan sounds from behind you, the familiar fap of his hand working against his hardened cock filling your ears and egging you on. His thumb slowly plays with the head, spreading the precum leaking from it. Having him watch you, turned on by the sight of you moaning his friend's name, turned on enough that he was jerking himself off at the sight. It made you feel hot, an unexplainable rush of desire coursing through your veins.

 Jungkook is pulling his tongue from inside of you it quickly being replaced with two long fingers. He pushes all the way to the knuckle, curling them to press deep inside of you. You feel the coil in your stomach slowly tighten as he continues his movements, your orgasm approaching.

 A silent scream leaves your lips the moment his lips are wrapping around your neglected clit, sucking softly as his tongue teases it. Hips lifting and rolling, body convulsing as your orgasm begins to wash over you. Jungkook's grip tightens around your shaking thighs, holding your legs in place as he pushes another finger inside of you.

 His lips suck down harder, head tilting to the side to twist your clit along with it. That paired with the new stretch of his added finger have you cumming hard all at once. His name leaves your lips in a desperate mewl, grip tightening in his hair as your back arches off the bed.

 Jungkook's pulling his fingers from your body, letting up on the suction around your clit relaxing into gentle licks of his tongue. His strong hands cover your ass, holding your body against his mouth as you ride out your orgasm. He laps up every bit of your wet cum, ignoring the sensitive twitch of your legs until he's finished. Until he's satisfied and sitting upon his knees, licking your arousal from his lips.

 He's staring at you with so much want, lust, lips slightly swollen and very red. His hair sticks up messily around his head from the grip of your fingers, chest heaving with heavy breath as he watches you.

 Jimin stands from his position behind you, hands tugging his shorts the rest of the way down his legs before he's taking slow strides in your direction. With much effort, you're lifting your body until you're seated. He grins down at you, a hand wrapped around his length while the other reaches for the nape of your neck.

 “I want you to suck me off while Jungkookie fucks you open, how's that sound?” He's wearing such a sweet smile on his face, a direct contradiction to the words that fall from his lips and the vulgar things they convey. You're nodding your head quickly, either way, leaning into his touch as his hand travels to rest against your jaw.

 Jungkook has stood from the bed, discarding his shorts in the process. He's rummaging on the other side of the room, but your focus is not on him. No, your attention is stuck on the man in front of you. His soft thumb brushing against your lower lip, your mouth falling open. He grins.

 “You made me so hard baby. Loved seeing you cum on Kookie's tongue, did it feel good?” You're nodding your head, eyes snapping up to find his. He chews on his lower lip, tracing the curves of your lips with the tip of his cock. You try to move your head to coax his cock into your mouth, but he's having too much fun teasing you to let that happen.

 Pushing your tongue out, you manage to slide it over the underside of his cock. He groans, head lolling to the side as he gives in, slowly guiding his cock past your lips and into your mouth. Your lips latch onto his dick and quickly begin licking and suckling at his length. His teeth dig into his lip as he watches you, hand reaching to grasp your hair.

 “Your mouth feels so good, baby.” He pants, rocking his hips forward slightly. Your body warms at the praise, sucking harder and speeding the bob of your head. His lower belly tightens, both hands tangled in your hair and tightening to hold your head still. Mouth widening, you allow him to push his hips forward, taking more of his cock down your throat. 

 You let him gag you, spit gathering around your lips as tears brim in your eyes. Hands braced on his hips as if that'd be enough to slow his movements. With the fucked out look on his face, the grip in your hair; it was obvious he didn't plan on letting up any time soon. Not like you even wanted him too, anyway.

 Jungkook was coming to crouch behind you, large hands finding your hips. The palm of his hand is slapping against one of your cheeks, forcing your body to jolt forward a muffled moan leaving your lips. The movement pushing you down further onto Jimin's cock, the head hitting against the back of your throat causing a cough to fall from your lips.

 Reluctantly, you pull back, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his length as heavy coughs shook your body. Jungkook let out a loud laugh, hands on your hips positioning your body onto your knees. Jimin's unmistakably gentle hand rubbed at your back, attempting to soothe your coughs as he lined his cock with your lips once more.

 You were taking him into your mouth once more, sucking with much more fervor this time. He chuckles above you, eyes flickering up to Jungkook who's fingers caressing your wet pussy lips. “She's so wet, Hyung. Think she liked choking on your cock.” He comments, fingers lazily stroking your pussy.

 Warmth spreads through your body at his words. Jungkook was much different from Jimin, sexually as well as everything else. Where Jimin never mentioned how much he knew you liked to suck him off, Jungkook was more than willing to voice his revelation that you were particularly dripping. As if he got off on the thought of embarrassing you, and it should annoy you, but it only made you want him more.

 Wanted to prove to him that you didn't so easily wither, that it would take a lot more to make you shy away. No matter the blush the took over his cheeks every time he was crude.

 His hand reached for your hair, tangling in the soft strands and slowly pulling you off of his friend's cock. Your back was soon pressed flush against his chest, a strong arm wrapping around your waist. You can see Jimin clearly now, muscles glistening with a thin layer of sweat as his palm stroked his wet cock.

 Jungkook's dick is pressed firmly against your ass cheek and your hips slowly rock back, rubbing against it. He bites back a groan, hand dropping to hold your hips in place. “You want me to fuck you, Yn?” His mouth is right by your ear, but he's speaking loud enough for both you and Jimin to hear. “Want me to make you cum, again? But this time on my cock... make you fall apart while your boyfriend watches, you'd like that, huh?” Rough fingers find your clit, flicking and tugging at it. And you nod frantically, spreading your legs wide from him and avoiding the lust-filled gaze of your boyfriend.

 He reaches for your chin, lifting your head so you're looking directly at Jimin. Jungkook moved behind you, shifting his hips until the tip of his cock nudges your awaiting entrance. “Say it,” He hisses into your ear. “Tell him,” His lower lip drags over the shell of your ear, fingers dipping lower to spread your lips for him.

 “I want-,” You feel heat growing in your chest, Jimin's expectant gaze making you feel small. He's stroking his cock much slower now, waiting on labored breaths. Jungkook's fingers pinch your clit and pleasure shoots through your veins, body twitching. “Don't be shy, princess. He can take it...” His fingers rub figure eights into the bundle of nerves.

 There was no telling how you looked right now, fucked out and panting. Desperately trying to wiggle your hips in hope to steal away more than he was letting you have. Lips are swollen and cheeks tear-stained from having Jimin's cock down your throat moments before. Your back arches against his chest as he drags the length of his cock over your slit, teasing you.

 “I want!” You shout, an electric shock of pleasure fueling you, “Jimin, fuck... watch me. I want you to watch me when Jungkook fucks me,” You plead, crazed eyes staying trained on your boyfriend. “Want you to see him make me cum.”

 “Fuck,” Jimin groans, at the same time Jungkook is pushing inside of you. His thick cock spreading your folds and breaking through your walls. You let out a loud whine, pushing back against him welcoming each inch of his length. He's groaning only when he's bottoming out, hands falling to your hips, body dropping onto your knees again.

 “She's so tight,” Jungkook sighs, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock is catching on your pursed entrance. He pushes forward quickly, pulling a wail from your lips. Repeating the action until he feels your walls loosening around him.

 He's soon falling into a steady pace, hips snapping against yours as his fingers bruise your hips. Your legs spread wide as you fist at the bedsheets below you, whiny moans leaving your lips as you move back against him. Jimin steps back, no doubt taking in the sight in before him. The way your eyes continue to roll, flushed cheeks and mouth open wide. How your back curves into the globes of your ass the ripple with each strong thrust of Jungkook's hips. “Fuck, baby. You're taking his cock so well,” Jimin praises with a proud look on his face. 

 His soft hand brushes your hair out of your face, holding it back in a makeshift ponytail. “How does it feel, baby?” Weakly, you lift your gaze to look up at him. “S-so good,” Voice hoarse and breathy. Jungkook grins behind you, angling his hips to slide deeper inside of you.

 “Such a good girl,” Jimin's free hand wraps around his cock. And your mouth is opening before your mind can register what he wants, warm cock filling your mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around the base.

 He's sliding down your throat easily, your head bobbing in time with the slow thrusts of his hips. You reach your hands forward to grasp his balls, hands massaging against the velvety skin and his pants. Incoherent mumbles of praise fall from Jimin's lips as his head falls back.

 He looks so hot, even from this angle. The veins of his neck prominent with the clench of his teeth. Collarbones thick and on full display, housing his well worked on pecks and the tight ripples of his abs. His hand lifts to grasp your hair, holding your head in place to thrust shallowly down your throat.

 “S-shit, I'm cumming.” Jungkook whines from behind you, hips pressed flush against your ass while his legs tighten. You feel the familiar expansion of the condom around his cock as the sounds of his whiny moans fill the room. Jimin lifts his head, a chuckle leaving his lips as his eyes find the pink-cheeked man in front of him.

 “That was quick,” Jimin teases, pulling his hips back until his cock is falling from your lips. Jungkook does the same. Your body shocked instantly with emptiness, you whine in protest, hips wiggling in search of your release.

 “It's been a while,” Jungkook defends, slumping against the mattress, arms lifting to cover his eyes. Desperately trying to slow his breathing, not paying any mind to the cum that leaks the condom in thick globs painting the sheets underneath him. “Did Kookie even make you cum?” Jimin's words are directed to you and you're quick to shake your head.

 He tsks, hand reaching for your thigh and flipping your body onto its back. Your legs spread as he lowers himself between them, cock easily pushing its way deep into your pussy. A moan falls from your lips, hips lifting to meet his thrust. “Let me show you how to do it.”

 Jungkook is removing his arm from his eyes, turning his attention to yours and Jimin's bodies. He watches as Jimin's firm ass lifts and drops into you, each powerful thrust pushing your body up. Watches as your nails mark up his smooth back. Listens to the way his groans mix with your whimpers.

 Your eyes catch his for a moment, and you're soon realizing that he's not watching you. Mouth parted and eyes dazed as he stares. But not at you. Jimin's reaching his hand down, fingers finding your clit as he pushes you toward your nearing orgasm. Eyes screwing shut, you let yourself feel it.

 Toes curling and back arching as your release washes over you. Jimin hisses from the way your walls clench around his cock, his thrusts becoming sloppy, untimed. Jungkook watches as he cums, filling you up. Your name falling from his lips in a breathy moan. Your legs tighten around his waist, holding his body tight against yours.

 Minutes pass before Jimin is pulling out, rolling onto his back with a huff. He grins wide down at you, lips catching yours in a loving kiss as his hand moves between your legs, pushing his escaped cum back into your pussy. You can't help the giggle that leaves your lips from the feeling.

 “You did so well, baby.” He's complimenting you after his lips are releasing yours. You smile wide, eyes shifting between him and Jungkook. “It was amazing, thank you.” Jungkook nods his acknowledgment while Jimin presses another kiss to your lips, before standing from the bed.

 “I'm gonna go run you a bath,” Jimin grins, kissing the top of your head gently before disappearing into the bathroom. The second he's gone, Jungkook is standing from the bed. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy, and he looks out of breath; but nevertheless he's moving as if he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

 You let him. Don't bother to ask him why. You know why. And now that you knew, all the little things surrounding were starting to make sense. As if a neon sign had been flashing the warning from the beginning, but you had chosen to ignore it. Explained it away as Jungkook being a protective best friend, but you were wrong. You were so wrong. Realization was hitting you all at once and you wondering how many of their conquests found out the exact same thing.

 Jungkook was in love with Jimin.

requests are open

[wroteclassicaly]

Waves of Blue (Andy Dolan x Reader)

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, face slapping, slight choking, mentions of drug usage, & angst.

A/N : AAAAAAHHHHH! I have found the post that teaches you how to add a read more on mobile! Shoutout to the person who told me about that! You know who you are! ^_^ Anyways, I am so gonna be posting more, even if it’s harder because I have to write the fics on my phone, versus my laptop, lol. I stumbled across the song Waves of Blue by Majid Jordan, and my ass was emotional af (I have included some of the lyrics here in blue!) I obviously don’t own the song/lyrics!

The song was the kick one of my drafts needed for extra inspiration! And so, I bring you the start of this mini fic! It won’t be very many chapters. And I will probably re-visit for a prequel, to write out how the reader and Andy first hooked up. But I wanted to try something different and start my fic with their relationship already ongoing. Hopefully it doesn’t suck, haha.?

I haven’t felt this inspired for a Cody character since Michael Langdon! I adore Andy’s traumatic, cocky, angsty, hot mess ass! And I really wanna explore the creativity he’s bringing me! Lemme know what y’all think? And give the song a listen - I’m in in love with it!

Forgive me if there’s some mistakes, loves! I’m nervous about how I’ve written Andy, and how the smut is. Hope y’all enjoy anyways!

:)

~*~

The rain is a glittering array of shimmering moisture as its presence is pouring down on the roof of your apartment. Your knees are knocked tightly together, jean fabric digging into flesh. Your phone is perched face down atop your legs, vibrating messages you don’t care to read. They’re not the ones that you want to see. You tilt your head back, the tears redirecting themselves down the sides of your cheeks. You turn your gazing direction to that silk robe atop your bed - a reminder.

“It’s just a fling, love.”

But it can’t be, can it?

You have to laugh at yourself. Isn’t this what every girl asks themselves when they’re dumped? Rare is an exception who steals the other person’s heart and changes that exterior they carry. Your phone vibrates again and that raging anger to match the ruby red color on his robe that rests on your bedroom sheets - it charges your energy like a violent strike of lightening! Your hand launches your phone into the hallway outside your bedroom door before you can stop yourself.

“There’s your fucking fling, dumbass Andy Dolan!”

You try to hum to fight off the incoming intrusive thoughts, to ignore your ringing phone in the distance, but it’s to no avail. You’re getting more overwhelmed with the pain by every agonizing second. Your fists clench into the leather armrests below. It’s too much, you can’t bear another second of this shit. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, it doesn’t matter that you have over fifteen unanswered recent calls from Andy since you threw your phone - unbeknownst to you.

You snatch the stupid silk robe from its place and begin your knowing journey with the excruciatingly expensive item, having already made up your mind. A quick removal of your keys from the hooks beside your front room door and your bare feet seem to lead you - heart first - into the downpour. Your clothing is soaked the instant you step outside. Mumbling all the way to your SUV and clutching Andy’s silk garment becomes your saving grace to help anchor your focus. If one can be focused in bare feet during a thunderstorm, erratically throwing her car into reverse.

The drive to his place of privacy - his sanctuary - the cold place you once used to help him warm. It doesn’t take you long. With your tires grinding against soaking asphalt, country beach roads whipping past you, and your angry windshield wipers struggling to keep up with your car’s pace - Andy’s gates come into your sights. You’re trembling, too upset and geared to go for a turn around now. Andy didn’t change the security, so you let yourself in, abandoning your car just inside, doors open and interior carelessly being soaked.

It doesn’t matter. I just have to tell him this.

That’s your mantra for continuous approach. You round the long expanse of beautiful greenery, waves crashing violently in the distance, a love affair to collide with this storm. Your simple outfit of blue jeans and a baby blue tank top are beyond recognition, weighted down by the sopping wet summer. The shivering begins to thrum along to an invisible, but very present humming inside you. It’s that feeling, the one you know all too well.

Andy Dolan.

Like when you first met, you begin to tremble, letting your limbs move you accordingly. Making sense is last on the priority list. Normally, you would have a thousand conversational scenarios laid out, but that’s not the case. Rushed on purely raw need to tell him - no - inform him, that is what is in charge here. The soft grass is squishy between your toes, a tickle from each freshly mowed blade, water in the distance smelling like salt and flowing freedom.

Every sense is heightened for you right now. Your limbs are heavy, yet your footfalls are light, carrying you with a quick grace. You don’t bother with the front door, opting for his usual back door hang out. It’s a few more minutes before your destination is reached. That’s when you hear him screaming, his voice in high distress, hard and rough against the accent. Your chest heaves to cage hammering heartbeats that you can’t keep up with.

“Motherfucking ANSWER ME!” He shouts, ripping the phone from his ear to redial.

You rolls your eyes, assuming it’s a dealer, or whomever he would rather be with than you. After all, he’s the one who said he just needed an ideal situation, not a relationship.

“Y/N... come on, don’t be a fucking cunt! I need to tell you something, please!”

Almost on cue the song drops loud on his fancy speakers in the house, freezing you to your spot.

I wanna hold you close

Don't wanna let you go

Be with you night and day

'Cause I've been feeling so low

Don't have to ask me twice

You really take me there

I wanna touch your light

I wanna breathe in your air

Andy angrily taps at his phone again, almost growling, reminding you of a wild animal. That’s when you’re snapped into your remaining senses, moving up and onto his deck, standing just feet from him. It takes him a few seconds to look up and see you through the rain. You can’t bring yourself to go any closer, afraid to let go right away. That’s how it is with Andy, you always give in.

You cut him off before he even gets a chance.

“Fuck you, Andy.”

Damn, was that really what you worked up the courage to dangerously drive yourself here to confess?

His lips purse a popping a noise, eyes widening in surprise at your word choices.

“I really fucking hate you.” Is what you give him, finding it easier to take steps now.

He still doesn’t speak as you approach, almost as if he’s recoiling. That wild animal within Andy Dolan. He’s not used to this. You can barely see through the rain, feeling like a moron. The movies make it look so dramatic, but you feel like you’re a wet dog on the verge of catching a cold.

It does good at numbing you though, almost shielding you from those haunting blue eyes. You swipe a hand across your face to clear your vision, and take that final step onto the deck with him, now just on the other side of where he stands in the doorway. That’s when he decides to speak, his voice softer than you’ve heard. It echoes his exhaustion, his surprise.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way, Y/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief, both of you not daring to make that closing gap. You would douse his body with yours; wet and cold. You’d be lying if you denied the shiver that attacked you, drawing your body in like a magnet - helpless to its every move.

“Don’t give me this kicked puppy front. We’re all human beings, Andy. And I didn’t fucking deserve you cutting your baggage open and just... dumping out whatever you felt like on me and then letting me go.”

Fuck.

He inhales sharply, head tilting in this sadness you seem to understand within the moment. It steals your breath, a pain punching your ribcage, causing your heartbeat to skip a few. Your jaw twitches as you turn away to gather your bearings, starting back down into the yard.

Why the fuck did I come here?

I'll be holding you tight

When the night is through

Andy takes a deep inhalation behind you and that catches you, dragging you right back. Before you know which end is up you’re turning back around and striding across the pool deck and right into your former lover. Andy meets you in the harsh rains, his hands cupping your neck so possessively, that you can’t remember a time where this hot mess of a man wasn’t bull dozing your life apart. You grasp his face in your palms, that unshaven stubble prickling your flesh. Your mouth meets his, his phone becoming ruined and forgotten as he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His strong arms path down to encircle your waist, pulling you in from the weather, bunching your t-shirt up until it’s pooling around your tattered bra. You raise your arms to help him discard it, the heavy wet noise it makes when it collides with a nearby pool chair is enough to make Andy gain his surroundings.

“Stop, stop. Are you fucking high?” He asks you, a cautious pause.

You shake your head. “Aren’t you?”

This is when he scares you with a solemn silence you weren’t aware he could possess.

“Andy...” You push your fingers through his damp curls.

“No, I’m not. I was just about to... when you didn’t answer.”

Almost as if he can’t take revealing that bit of truth, he thumbs a bra strap down your shoulder - deliberately slow. Your skin stings with the line of goosebumps that it brings, your own hands struggling to push that stupid ass identical robe off his broad chest.

“I should fucking rip this.” You say, causing a smile to come from him.

“Rip it and I’ll put you on your knees.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” A challenging look presses your features, but Andy intercepts, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling your hair back. You feel the ache crack from the tips of your toes, hot wired into your cunt - direct express.

“You need more marks from me.” His mouth caresses your jawline, stubble catching the underside when his lips find your neck, a stimulation that you have become accustomed to craving.

His teeth bite down, a few seconds more where you feel him cleaning his evidence with a light set of kisses.

“There we go.” He scrapes his milky white teeth across your ear with a whisper so hot that you bow into him; knees weak.

Your bra is the next thing to fall somewhere, your jeans following. Andy doesn’t wait for you to even kick them off, his fingers sliding into your lace panties to see how much you still need him. He licks his lips, eyes closing in pleasure, a familiar stroking rhythm unraveling from the tips of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s a good girl. Even when you hate me you still need me, don’t you?”

The cockiness makes your wrist snap and palm collide with his cheek. You’re riled up, he’s riled up. Something you know he likes. “Like you fucking needed that?” Is your retort.

He groans out, a honey wet dip in his tone. “Only you can fucking touch me like that, Y/N.”

Lightening flashes through the darkened midnight skies, rain pounding across the surface of the pool to create a special beat. Andy finds your mouth in desperation once more, working your underwear down in a frustrated jerk. His fingers part your slick folds and ease into you without any warning. You look down to watch his strong forearm flex in its working marathon, back and forth between your thighs.

We'll be riding the tide in the sky so alive

On waves of blue (waves of blue)

I'm in love with the thought of being in love

In love with you (love with you)

You can bring me along for the rest of your life

If you wanted to (wanted to)

You let go and give into him, not daring to question why you came here in the first place. You know why. Andy has stopped his touches, watching you with that lowered stare he gives. His body is glowing from the neon lighting his home harbors, his creamy skin glistening with rain water. He’s hard through those silk pants, nothing left to the imagination.

“Take them off. Now.” You command him.

He can’t hide the greedy smirk that appears on his lips, not taking his eyes off you as his pants and boxers disappear in one go. He is gloriously hard and thick. You almost want to laugh at your cliche salivating tongue. Andy brushes your wet hair off your temple, his hands moving down your body in a tapping massage - reaching their target to hook behind your thighs.

He lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s panting rapidly, nosing your neck. He grips himself, teasingly stroking your cunt to gather your arousal. You stutter on an exhale, unable to breathe out properly. It’s jagged and broken, much like your rationality.

You stop him when he attempts to press inside you. “Tell me again,” You plead. He looks at you in confusion. “Say I’m just a fling.” You finish.

“Y/N...” He struggles.

“Before you fuck me, I want you to tell me what I mean to you, Andy.”

It’s hard not to just fucking forget this and let go, let him take you, both of you get what you want and not have to deal with anything else. But you need to hear it. You want to know how much you’re not worth anything to him. You need to hear it more than you need to find out how much you mean to him. That’s what you came here for...

His enriching ocean eyes are glossy with desire, with something else you can’t place. They pin you into a set of shakes. You grip the hair at his neck’s nape.

“Everything.” He says it all at once, bringing your hand down atop his to help him line up, as he fucks himself into your cunt, stretching you with that delicious drowning burn.

You're no good for me

You got what I need

I just wanna be with you

You cry out, vision sprinkled with an array of floating shapes. Andy drives you against the door, hips slamming so hard you know you’ll be bruised before the night is through. You keep one arm around his neck, lowering the other to encourage him to hurt you deeper, nails clawing at his lower back, shredding the skin. His face stays buried in your neck, stubble adding to each motion he makes inside. You cling tight, using all your strength.

It’s slippery, it’s unstable, you can barely hold onto one another, but you manage. And that moment when you finally can’t keep yourself up, Andy lets you slide down, bringing you into the floor of the doorway, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, pressing in so hard you can’t contain the tears that roll from the corner of your eyes, coasting. He’s familiarized himself with how you come undone, even before you knew.

“You’re drenching my cock, baby. You need to let it go?”

You don’t answer, causing him to grip your throat.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer. You remember how this works, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes! Please, Andy!” You don’t pride yourself now.

He guides a hand across you, as if he’s tuning a fine instrument. Your stomach quivers with a passing of his fingertips, engaging in a butterfly filled stomach clench. You’re tensing up, anticipating. Desiring.

“Fucking do it! Show me how much you still need this...” He trails off, dropping to rest his chest against your breasts.

“Even if you don’t need me.” It’s a counter thought to your need to hear him say he doesn’t want you.

“I’ll always need you.” You push him onto his back with newfound strength, and pin his hands above his head, your hips bouncing so hard that you can feel his firm structure beneath. That’s right, this is exactly what you have to have.

He’s damn near whining now, squeezing your fingers tightly. “Y/N.”

It’s a warning you don’t need. You lean down to steal a kiss, leaving him further winded, nudging his nose with your own, breasts smashed to between you two. Andy gives a silent agreement, dropping a hand down to quickly rub your clit. Your heartbeat is so out of control that you can’t hear anything but your own cries as you cum all over Andy’s cock. He follows with you, holding himself, keeping you there.

He’s shaking when it’s over. You can’t find coherent speech capabilities.

I'll be holding you tight

I'll wait this through

You stay resting on top of him, still keeping him inside. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know that there’s no going back now.

This is just another beginning...

~*~

Tagging: @dark-mei-rose @confettucini @lovelylangdonx

Lemme know if y’all wanna be added to the tag list?!!!!

[stray-kids-react]

S/O likes enjoys writing/writing lyrics

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° You owned this special and locked diary for years, where you kept all your bottles up emotions and feelings in.

° One of those feelings evolving your long time crush on Chan, including the words 'Sexy, Cute, Inspirational, Hot, Prince, and A Literal Angel' all in quite a few pages. Luckily your now long time boyfriend has never seen these fangirl/boy paragraphs.

° Chan was all of those words, no doubt about it. But it is still hard to look at those paragraphs without cringing at how desperate you sounded in your mind.

° Chan however apparently loved your affectionate paragraphs, flipping through the pages as you walked through his studio door. Your heart sank as pure shock and terror rushed through your veins. No one wants their private thoughts to be read.

° The tips of Chan's ears were firetruck red, as a beaming grin flashed towards you. You noted that he read through the entire diary, knowing all the dreams and wishes you had that involved him. No skeletons were left in your closet anymore, it was bittersweet.

"So you really think I'm an angel who is also the sexiest person on earth?" he teased, cupping your face in his palms.

"Well duh, but you can't tell me you didn't think anything like that towards me-" You defended, cut off by his sweet kisses.

Lee Know

° Minho found out about your true feelings towards him while reading some song lyrics you wanted to show 3Racha.

° He needed to know who you loved and admired so dearly after reading this, constantly by your side questioning anything he could. After literal weeks of conspiracy, you couldn't take his suspicion anymore and admitted everything.

° You are now much more secretive with your songs that you've written, but that won't stop Minho from looking everywhere he possibly can. He is determined to find them.

° After so many large steps that were taken in your relationship, he wants to see how you truly felt throughout them. From the first date, first time, to the promise ring he fave you last week. Minho wants to say it's to tease, when it's truly because he loves you.

° He loved the way his stomach did kart wheels as his heart fluttered when he first read your words. He hasn't felt that amazing feeling in a while and needs to re live it, luckily for him he noticed a place he has never thought of checking.

"So kitten, you really want to marry me don't you?" he commented, a soft smirk across his glowing features.

"Why wouldn't I? You're you. And how'd you find those?!" you replied, tone changing as you saw how many he actually had.

Changbin

° Changbin was struggling to create a new song, he seemed to accidently make similar beats and lyrics to their past hits.

° You would sometime write up different songs when you were bored, but you never showed them to anyone thinking they weren't great. But Changbin looked in need of some type of inspiration, so you brought out your journal and placed it infront of him.

° His expression was unreadable, either about to thank you for the amazing inspiration or laugh at your cheesy words. You just wanted him to say something.

° Changbin began to smile shyly, showing you a page he just read over. That page happened to be the most recent and the one you completely forgot about. It was a draft about 10 different ways you could tell Changbin that you loved him.

° You really wanted it to be special when you would say it to him, but luck didn't seem to be on your side that day. You were at least glad that he was smiling, showing positive signs that he isn't feeling awkward or doesn't feel the same way about you.

"I love you too my adorable bean." He chuckled, pulling you into his lap as he held you close to his racing heart beat.

"I'm guessing he new comeback is going to be a love song now?" you teased, burrowing into his soft black hoodie.

Hyunjn

° Your relationship use to be a cat and mouse situation, one day you two were best friends and then the next you two were rivals.

° Your anger and frustration towards one another was simply a way to hide your true emotions. Both of you found each other attractive in and out, but were too stubborn to confess. That is until he walked into your room and pressed you up against the wall.

° Your rivalry left out the door once you started dating, the only ounce of it was left in the small playful bickering and teasing. Which happened every day of the week.

° You walked into the dressing rooms, noticing Han and Felix giggling as your presence became known. This wasn't a usual giggle of theirs, something was going on. You knew that for sure once you saw the way Hyunjin presented himself.

° A sly smirk across his lips as a couple crumpled peace of paper were in between his fingers. His steps were long and powerful, as he held his head up high while nearing you. This usually meant he found something to tease you with.

"I didn't know you liked me for five years, coming up with so many cute pet names if we ever dated." He teased, hiding his blush.

"First of all, you went through my desk without asking me. Second of all, I am whipped for you dumb dumb." You replied.

Han

° You weren't a very vocal person, having trouble expressing your thoughts and emotions through words everyday.

° That reason alone is also why people think you and Han are a perfect match. He helped you come out of your shell and be comfortable in your own skin. All of those actions sent your heart into a frenzy, finding there way into pages filled with emotion.

° Han knew about your habit of writing cute quotes on your palms and arms, or just randomly taking out your journal and starting a new page.

° He respected your privacy even if the temptation of knowing every little thought you have was very very strong, he held back and let you write in peace. However, when you dropped your journal without knowing. Han held it and the temptation took over.

° As you had a chat with Seungmin, he turned around from your eye sight and flipped through the pages. Many of them expressing how much you love him and how much he helped you without him even knowing. This effected Han immensely.

"Hannie are you crying?" you questioned, noticing the forming gloss over his sparkling chocolate orbs.

"Yeah, but it's happy tears. I just never knew how much you cared about me, and it makes me feel important." He explained.

Felix

° You cannot hide anything from this adorable koala, he knows you too well and can find anything you've hidden from him.

° You learned this the hard way when you asked him for help when forgetting where you left your journal, panicking since the last place you saw it was at Minho's. Felix knew you usually placed it near your bed and assumed it to be under the covers.

°His assumption was spot on, but you had no idea that he had found it yet. Felix took this advantage to skim through a few pages, smiling at the sight of his name in the book.

° His name was mentioned ever since the day you first met, January 7th 2017. He was written as this attractive aussie that had your knees weak, he laughed silently at the realization that you fancied him since the first day you met. He loved it.

° Felix walked out with the navy blue book tight in his grip, his ears a bright shade of red. You knew he must've read some sort of page about him, but you weren't nervous about it. It couldn't have been anything more cheesy than what you say on dates.

"I can't believe Han knew about your crush on me that entire time." Felix chuckled, shock filling his expression.

"And I can't believe you never knew how much I truly admired you." You teased back, kissing his freckle speckled cheeks.

Seungmin

° Seungmin met you at a library, you were working on a soft poem about not being able to find the right person.

° That whole meeting seemed like something right off of a romance movie or fanfiction novel. Writing about giving up on love as an amazing guy happens to cross paths with you. But both of you laugh at the whole cliché nature of your meeting.

° Seungmin loved how you wrote, taking him into the story each time. He felt so special whenever he found something referring to your relationship, feeling fuzzy inside.

° He liked to bring some of your poems on tour with him, reminding him to stay strong when being away from you. Letting him know that you'll always be there for him when he needs you, even if you are both countries away from each other.

° Felix once found his stash of poems that you wrote, he never teased him on it but would still smile excitedly at how sentimental Seungmin was becoming. Seungmin knew he was becoming cheesy and mushy, he hated yet loved it.

"Do you know how much you have effected me?" he questioned, tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

"Or maybe you have an addiction to me, ever think of that?" you responded, smiling widely as he rolled his eyes at your words.

Jeongin

° You worked under JYP entertainment to help create songs for different groups, Jeongin noticed you during his break.

° You rarely got to work with Stray Kids since they made 99% of their own songs, but that didn't stop Jeongin from trying to get to know you. It worked in his favor, since you began to develop a living in him after two months of hang out together.

° Jeongin likes hearing certain songs you create or in the process of being created, cheering you on and telling all of his members when you created a song.

° He liked to give you the credit and appreciation you rarely get, most of the credit going towards the artist who performed the songs you created. Jeongin wanted to let you know how proud he was of you daily, even if you got shy from it.

° Whenever you showed him different samples of songs you were working on, he'd dance in his seat with a beaming smile. Even when you were tired and wanted the day to end, his admiration and addicting smile would make your mood change instantly.

"I am just worried because JYP has been pretty harsh on the past few songs." You sighed, tired and frustrated.

"He literally wrote a song about women's butts. I'm pretty sure you're more talented baby." He reassured, patting your head.

[mega-ultra-so-awesome-it-hurts]

Replaced... for the Better

A/N: OKAY LOVES I DID IT! HERE IT IS! I KNOW IT’S TWO MILLION YEARS LATE BUT HERE!  

Pairing: Paul Lahote x black!reader x Jasper Hale

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Heavy angst, sort of cheating. 

Requested: No, but pleeeease request. I’m booored

Word count: 1106 (eep SORRY it’s so short! I was in a mood when I wrote out the rought draft hehe)

Summary: You find out you’re not the only one Paul imprinted on. But how will you take it? There MIGHT be a part 2, if enough people want it.

(GIF’s are not mine. Credit to owners!)

You weren’t the most beautiful woman in the world, and you knew it. But Paul still loved you. You knew he did. Or, you thought he did. Allow me to set the scene:

 It was August, 2008. Slightly chilly outside, so it was cold inside, too. You were cooking dinner for the boys. You heard the door open, and you felt a cool Autumn breeze flow through your burnt orange sweater.

 “Angel?” You smiled. It was Paul, your fiance. But... you thought you heard another person with him. One of the pack, maybe? 

 “Kitchen, baby! C’mere, I want you to taste this gumbo I’m makin’!” You were from New Orleans, and you were always cookin’ up soul food for your boys. A lot of times, you’d try some new food that you weren’t familiar with, but they’d all turn out wonderful. You and Emily were the best cooks on the reservation, that was for sure. The Pack thought y’all were the best cooks in Forks, but that was a bit cocky, and cocky wasn’t really your thing. 

 Paul’s footsteps stalled in the hallway, and you could hear the faintest of whispers. You rolled your eyes, knowing how much Paul and Jared loved to sneak up behind you and steal tastes of whatever you were cookin’. 

 “Come on in, boys! I’ll let you have a taste, too, Jared!” You assured the other Quileute boy you were sure accompanied your man.

 “Uh... Y/N, I’m not with Jared...” Paul’s voice sounded hesitant, and you knew instantly something was wrong. He never ever called you by your name. He must’ve done somethin’ stupid again, you figured.

 “What’d you do now, Paul?” Your voice held a hint of amusement, but it was mostly tired. You’d been on your feet all day, and now Paul was being all suspicious, so you were not going to get to rest any time soon. Well, you were more right about that than you had thought. 

“Um, Y/N, can you come into the living room?” You put down the sharp kitchen knife that Emily gave you for your 18th birthday last month, which you were using to dice the carrots. Slowly, you turned the stove flame down, making sure the gumbo wouldn’t burn. Then, ever so slightly, you peeked your head into the living room. With Paul was another man. Pale, pale thing, honeyed hair, and golden eyes. You relaxed a bit. The Cullens came over from time to time, so you were familiar with the blonde doctor and his family. You smiled, walking over to be a good hostess and welcome him, when you noticed a minor detail you hadn’t seen before.

They were holding hands.

You stopped in your tracks, your smile faltering. Paul let go of the blond Cullen boy’s, (was his name Jasper?) hand, moving closer to you.

“Angel,” Paul began, walking towards you. “This is Jasper.” So you were right. “He’s my other imprint.” You dropped to the floor in shock, legs bent to the left, hands supporting your upper half to your right. 

“Y/N?” Paul knelt beside you, his brows furrowed in concern. You shook off his hand.

“When?” You inquired, eyes still trained on the ground before you.

“Y/N-”

“When??” You questioned once more. Paul flinched slightly, then closed his eyes.

“The battle with the newborns.” Your breath caught. That was only 3 months after you and he had met. Only two weeks after you and Paul had first kissed. You had forgotten to breathe, and now your lungs burned for air. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Forcing a smile onto your features, you got to your feet. 

“Hello,” Jasper said, nodding slightly. You softened a bit. You could tell he was nervous. 

“Hi, honey. It’s wonderful to meet you.” You offered one of your better, more sincere smiles. 

“You as well, ma’am.” Jasper stuck his hand out for you to shake.  You shook your head, pushing it away.

“Now, now, sweetie. None of that.” You opened your arms, stepping forward.

“I’m a hugger, shugs.” He opened his arms as well, and you both shared a sweet - albeit awkward - embrace.

“Come on,” you said, pulling away. 

“I’m makin’ some gumbo, and I need you to mince the celery.” You took his cold hand in yours and led him into the kitchen. You gave him a stalk of celery and handed him a knife, telling him to get to work.

And then, it was like you had both known each other forever. Because it had to be. You didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and you definitely didn’t want to discourage Paul from happiness. So you laughed and smiled ‘till it hurt, locking your true feelings away in an iron safe so deep down, it was lost to even you.

Eventually, Jasper went home, and you stayed happy. For the rest of the day, you were all smiles, so bubbly it should’ve been suspicious. But nobody asked. Maybe they simply didn’t notice. Or maybe, just maybe, nobody cared.

                                                    _ _ _

Late that night, you and Paul were set up on the bed you both shared. You had your body resting against Paul’s chest, your lap housing a red bowl halfway filled with popcorn. You and Paul were watching a movie. It was one of the sappy romances that Paul couldn’t stand, but you loved them, and he loved you. Didn’t he? You were playing with Paul’s fingers when he asked you,

“You sure you’re okay with it?” He didn’t have to say what he meant. You knew. You put on your best act, looked up into Paul’s face, and you lied to him.

“Absolutely. Jas - He’s family now.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say his name. You hoped Paul didn’t notice. Paul’s expression changed, happy now. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, resting his chin on your head.

“You have no idea what that means to me, Angel. Thank you,” he whispered. You said nothing, not wanting to say anything else you couldn’t take back. You both went back to watching the movie. You were no longer playing with your man’s fingers, your hands now resting on either side of the popcorn bowl. Neither of you said another word. 

Once the movie was over, you tied up your hair, laying next to Paul for the night. You waited for Paul’s breathing to even out, then changed into some decent runners clothes. You packed a duffel, and then, slipping a note into the side of the bed that you usually slept on, you left, without uttering so much as a goodbye.

A/N: I know it’s late, but it’s FINALLY done lmao. I had it written out weeks ago on paper, but between studying for midterms and failing biology, I haven’t really had time to update. Now, this wasn’t the ending I ORIGINALLY planned to go with, but i’m a bitch so I decided to change it. Part 2 MIGHT include more of the Cullen fam, and there MIGHT be a slight shift in gravity MUAHAHAHA. I have many things planned for the dear reader... so follow my account (or ask to be added to my taglist) for P2 when it comes!! SOrry for the title... my brain is spent and y’all probs won’t even see any MENTIONS of a P2 until March hahaha. But anyway hope y’all enjoyed this!

[dembenchboys]

Don’t - Tyson Jost

AN: this has been in my notes for like 6-7 months now I hope you enjoy! It’s based if the song don’t by Ed Sheeran.

Warnings: cheating and a mention of sex nothing detailed at all.

Word count: 1.9k

I met this girl late last year

She said, “Don’t you worry if I disappear”

“Yes.” That's the response Layla whispered in Tyson’s ear after he asked her to spend the night with him. As he planted more open mouth kisses to her neck, Tyson could feel her breath quicken and her plus racing up.

Tyson wasn't expecting to be taken back by the stunning brunette with green eyes who he locked eye contact with as she was busy dancing in the corner with her girlfriends when he went to the local bar Monday night with the boys for a simple night of relaxing. When they bumped into one other at the counter and she introduced herself to him while grabbing a drink, he wasn't expecting his heart to race a little quicker. He hadn't expected to be bringing her home at the end of the night, yet here he was, holding her hand as they climbed into the car he had booked for them.

What Tyson really wasn't prepared for was the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he woke up to an empty bed and a piece of paper on his nightstand with only 11 numbers scribbled on it.

I told her I’m not really looking for another mistake

I called an old friend thinking that the trouble would wait.

Tyson realized he should've tossed the little letter away as soon as he got off the phone with JT who reminded him to think with his head and recommend throwing it away. But Tyson, on the other hand, was always one to follow his emotions rather than his mind or gut instincts. After all, he was known as a softy for a reason. His head was telling him that he should simply toss the paper away since it was just going to cause him misery. His emotions, on the other hand, were reminding him of how he felt last night when he made eye contact with her. They were reminding him of how his heart raced and how he felt a nervous pulse in his stomach for the first time in a long time.

So, four mornings after waking up to an empty bed, he decided to take the plunge and message her. He realized that texting her at 11:00 a.m. would not lead her to believe it was a booty call. Tyson opted to keep it short and sweet, only saying, "Hey, how are you?" And before he could back out, he sent the message, not realizing how drastically those four words would impact his year.

It was 10:45 p.m., according to the clock. Tyson had become increasingly nervous as Layla had yet to reply. He was thinking to himself, what if he had waited too long, what if she had just left the note out of kindness and didn't mean it? But his phone vibrated in his hand just as he was about to turn it off and put it away for the night. And there was a text message from Layla on his phone screen, saying, "I'm okay, what's up?" “Have you finally missed me enough to send a text?” Tyson felt the blood rush to his checks at that moment, as he hoped she didn't realize how long he had been waiting, but she did. Tyson decided to make up for the fact that he hadn't spoken to her in four days, so he spent the rest of the night getting to know the lovely woman he thought had a good heart.

But then I jumped right in a week later, returned

I reckon she was only looking for a lover to burn

Tyson decided to invite Layla over after about a week of talking with her through his phone and tossing the idea around in his head. He had all of the spare time in the world before heading to Alberta since the Avs season had just ended.

Tyson had discovered recently she was a CU Denver student. So when they agreed on a Saturday, Tyson realized she wouldn't have classes, so he wouldn't have to worry about her cancelling, but he was still worried that she wouldn't actually show up. When a soft knock came to his door around 1:00 p.m., those nerves faded.

When Tyson awoke to an empty bed on the Tuesday morning he was supposed to leave for home, he wasn't surprised. Tyson found himself going to bed with someone and waking up alone more often after that Saturday afternoon spent with Layla at his place.

Then I put it on pause until the moment was right

I went away for months until our paths crossed again

After waking up alone on that Tuesday morning when he had to leave, Tyson wanted to put some space between himself and the situation. Tyson knew that if he went down that particular road with Layla, his heart wouldn't be able to heal if anything bad happened. Tyson tried not to think about her during his time in Alberta, but it became more difficult with each passing day. Tyson found his feelings growing towards her each day. He found himself thinking about her at odd times throughout the day, hanging with his family? Layla. Sitting around the fire pit? Layla. in bed right before he closed his eyes? Layla. She was an addiction, the kind you get when you try a new treat and can't stop thinking about it.

Tyson promised himself he wouldn't message her again until he returned to Colorado, and he kept his word. He'd been back in the city for about three weeks before he decided to pick up where they'd left off.

She told me, "I was never looking for a friend

Maybe you could swing by my room around ten

Baby, bring the lemon and a bottle of gin

We'll be in between the sheets 'til the late AM"

After several late-night phone calls to catch up, Layla eventually told Tyson what this meant to her after he invited her to dinner. “Around 1:00 a.m. on a Monday morning, she muttered to him, "I'm more into the friends with benefits situation right now." Tyson was definitely devastated but he was willing to take whatever Layla had to offer.

Tyson was unprepared for the feeling he got when he glanced down at his phone after leaving JT’s apartment to see a text that said, "baby, I'm swinging by your place with a bottle." Tyson knew that meant he'd wake up alone in the morning, yet he didn't care at the time.

Tyson and Layla had been seeing each other more and more in recent weeks. Tyson’s feelings for Layla became stronger over time, but he never expressed them. He just loved her company, and if that meant getting lost in the sheets more often than not, so be it.

And for a couple weeks I only wanna see her

We drink away the days with a takeaway pizza

Tyson was in a slump, he wasn't producing on the ice as he wanted to, and the media was branding him a draft bust because of it. As a result, he found himself blocking others out, with the exception of one individual. Tyson discovered that Layla was the only one he truly wished to be with. She didn't mention hockey at all, because they could easily lose themselves in each other and block out the rest of the world. They'd eat as much takeout pizza as Tyson's diet permitted.

Yet something changed between them in those few weeks. Layla confessed to developing feelings for the curly-haired boy. As a result, they opted not to label what they were doing, but they did promise not to see other people. Not that Tyson was doing so before.

Wish I'd have written it down, the way that things played out

When she was kissing him, how I was confused about

Now she should figure it out.

Tyson should have known something was wrong when Layla started staying at school longer than usual, but he didn't think much of it, assuming it was just finals. Tyson should have known something was wrong because she took longer to respond to his text messages and began avoiding his phone calls, but he was so wrapped up in the feeling she gave him that he didn't notice. When Layla failed to pick him up from the airport on Sunday morning, Tyson should have known something was wrong, but he just convinced himself she slept in.

But two things happened when the car he ordered from the airport arrived in front of Layla's apartment and he saw her kissing the kid from her biology class: one, Tyson's heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, and two, something clicked and everything made sense to him.

That afternoon, at Tysons' place, he had to have a conversation he would never forget .Layla explained that she genuinely wanted to be with him and that she was just messing around with Tyler, the name of the kid from biology, because she wanted to be official with Tyson. And in a relationship, she puts a significant importance on trust and respect.

So they agreed to become an official couple that day, and the eight weeks that followed were some of the happiest memories Tyson had managed to make.Tyson grew more and more in love with Layla with each passing day, and he indulged in it. He treasured the cuddles and long conversations late at night. Tyson was certain he was in love with Layla, or Ly as he began to refer to her. He was about to reveal her to the group of people in his life that he held in high regard: his teammates.

She was crying on my shoulder, I already told ya

Trust and respect is what we do this for

I never intended to be next

But you didn't need to take him to bed, that's all

And I never saw him as a threat

Until you disappeared with him to have sex, of course

Tyson wasn't expecting to see Layla on the sofa on top of Tyler from biology when he stepped into Layla's apartment on the morning of the 23rd, three days before their three-month anniversary, ready to celebrate because he'd be on the road. But that is precisely what he saw.

Layla didn't know she'd been caught until the beautiful white roses fell to the ground and the door slammed shut  from behind her.

As the knock on Tyson's door rang through the silent apartment, Tyson knew that all that had occurred in the previous year, his best days, and the one person  he could turn too would all be gone in less than 20 minutes.

Tyson had never expected to have a conversation like this one in his dark, relatively clean apartment. When Layla cried on his shoulder, he reminded her of their compromise on trust and respect, telling her, "If you were unhappy, you should have left, I never saw him as a threat, well, before you slept with him of course."

But after all of the screaming and pleading, Layla gathered her belongings and closed the door to Tyson's apartment; the sound that echoed in the house was almost close to Tyson's heart beating in his chest.

As Tyson came into the dressing room the next morning, feeling dishevelled, he grumbled to JT that he should have just thrown it out.

[wkemeup]

Heal Me, Baby

summary: Bucky Barnes can’t seem to keep away from your med tent no matter how many times you fix him up. // challenge prompt: bed sharing  pairing: 1940s bucky x reader word count: 5k warnings: a very charming bucky 😉 a/n: This was written for @cake-writes​ 1940s challenge! Congrats on the 3.5 milestone!! The title of this fic comes from the song Heal Me by Snow Patrol 

There was blood on the white of your dress; slow and steady seeping into the fabric and staining the cotton blend fibers. Red and as deep and bold as the cross sewn into the chest of your uniform, the blood became part of the design because no matter how many times you scrubbed it clean, more would find its way back to the hip of your skirt, the sleeve of your shoulder, the hem of your apron by morning’s end. Sometimes you wondered why they’d bothered dressing you in white at all. Might as well make it red with the number of wounded soldiers they dragged through your tent; most halfway towards the shiny bright light and others inches away from their last breath.

The chaos was constant, a given, and despite the noise and clutter, it was where you felt most at home. It was better than the lull, the calm before the inevitable storm, where you’d be swarmed with men on stretchers, bleeding out onto the dirt and tossed into overcrowded beds. The steady stream was easier than the rapids, easier than assigning ten men to a single nurse where injuries could be missed, vital tears overlooked.

You were at the end of your shift for the night, dirt on your forehead, sweat damping the carefully curled ringlets at your neck. A file in your hand of the man at the end of the room, thicker than most, and you kept your eyes down as you pushed your way through the crowd of nurses and visiting soldiers, heels sinking slightly into the grass with every step.

When you came upon him, you finally noticed the name etched into the top right corner of the folder; the cheesy grin as he propped himself up on his elbows, blood and dirt coating most of his face, though still as annoying handsome as ever.

“Hiya, doll.”

“Oh, not you again.”

Bucky chuckled to himself as he plopped back down against the pillow, hands clasping behind his neck as he watched you work around his bedside. You huffed the hairs from your eyes, brushed the sweat from your hands as you slipped on a pair of gloves, careful to avoid the urge to smile at the way Bucky was so obviously studying your every move.

You’d seen him about a dozen times since you’d been transferred to the Italian warfront along with the 107th. He’d found a habit of stumbling into the medical tent after a night in the trenches, covered head to toe in what looked to be a dried mixture of mud and blood that didn’t always turn out to be his own. 

He’d flash that smile of his like he couldn’t smell the retch of sweat and grim on his skin, sweet talk you like he wasn’t thrown head first to the middle of a war he didn’t sign up for, and get your stomach twisted all up in knots, hands fumbling with the IV bag, a nervous flutter in your chest – though you’d never let him see that.

Sergeant Bucky Barnes was the kind of man the nurses talked about when he walked by. A tip of his cap, a slight salute in their direction, and they’d giggle themselves into a mess, clinging onto one another as they waved at him. 

But then, across the courtyard, his eyes would catch yours, a softer tone about him and he’d simply wink, something subtle and barely noticeable, but enough for it to be personal, almost intimate, because it wasn’t for others to see.

“Not happy to see me, huh?” Bucky drawled, crossing his ankles as he stretched back on the worn-down cot like he was sitting at home on the couch, waiting on a beer as he read the evening paper.

You pursed your lips, shooting him a narrowed look as you glanced over the intake file. “I’m never happy to see men in this tent, Sergeant Barnes. Did you forget where you are?”

You gestured down to the series of beds filled with men, some waiting as they hung off the edge of crutches or slumped over in chairs, with bandages wrapped around exposed chests, blood seeping through, broken limbs exposed, the quiet whimpers of pain muffled by forearms and pillows.

“Oh, come on, doll. You know I’m just teasing ya,” Bucky smirked, sitting up in the bed because he knew the routine well enough by this point. 

You held a single finger pointed up in front of his eyes and he followed it without instruction as you moved it across his line of sight. No sign of abnormal dilation. Ruled out a concussion, at least.  

“You should be more careful out there,” you warned, gathering the first aid kit from the bedside table. “You’re in here almost every day, you know.”

“Maybe I like the company,” he shrugged, blue eyes piercing straight through you and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a full beat.

Your hands trembled slightly as you cleaned the wound on his forehead, a hit from a fall by the looks of it, though it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. He winced a little, a slight hiss in his tongue as you applied the alcohol.

“You shouldn’t be taking the bed from someone who needs it.”

“Hell, I do need it, doll,” Bucky whined, a little dramatically. “Look at me. I’m in pieces. I’m fallin’ apart at the seams and you’re the only one that can save me, sweetheart. I need ya.”

You paused with a tight pout of your lips, sitting back on the cot beside him long enough to roll your eyes. “You need a band-aid and stern warning, Sergeant Barnes. You’re fine.”

“Oh, call me Bucky, won’t you?”

You pressed the bandage to his forehead, a little firmer that you would have for most any other patient and he grunted under his breath, trying to steady himself against the thin mattress.

“Time for you to go, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky grinned, nodding to himself as he stood. “Been a pleasure, doll, as always. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You better not!” you called back, arms folded over your chest as he snickered to himself, walking through the mess of chaos to the exit on the other end. He glanced back over his shoulder as he pulled up a flap of canvas and winked at you.

You clenched your jaw and got back to work.

***

Sure enough as the tides rolled in, so did Bucky Barnes to your med tent a few nights later.

You found him waiting for you on the last bed in the aisle, one leg tucked under him, the other hung over the side of the cot as he nursed his right hand in his lap. He was humming to himself through pursed lips, a tune that you recognized from the radio station your father often played back home; head bouncing a bit to the rhythm, massaging gently at the palm of his hand, completely unfazed by the chaos around him.

Stepping up to the edge of the bed, you supposed he caught sight of your shoes because he started to smile before he so much as lifted his head.

Slowly, like he was taking his time, he glanced up at you with that sheepish smile of his, a light chuckle under his breath, and he ran his left hand through the mess of hair atop his head.

“Hiya, doll.”

“What is it this time?”

Your arms were folded, toe tapping against the ground, but there was something in the way he couldn’t stop smiling at you, even as you scolded him, that tugged a bit on the tight strains in your chest. It pushed at the walls you’d built, poked at the cement layers between bricks until they started to fall one by one and you fought against the urge to smile back at him.

He was too sweet on you, too handsome and charming, and you were almost certain it was an act, so you clenched your jaw and forced a frown.

Bucky held up his hand and for you, showing off a rather nasty burn in the underside of his palm, just along his thumb; red and seared, bubbling a bit on the edges. Your resolve took a bit of a hit because he winced a little in the motion, like the chill of the air was enough to cause him pain.

“How did you manage to do that?” you asked, tone still a little tense, though you took a seat on the side of his mattress, the lumps of the worn-down cot pressing against your thighs.

You reached for the medical cart near the bedside table, though it was just an inch from reach, and Bucky took the liberty of wheeling it over for you. You paused, watching him as he casually slid the cart in front of you, careful of your shoes and the dips in the ground.

“It was my shift in the kitchens,” he shrugged.

His hand slipped into yours as you gestured for it; rough and calloused though still untouched in places, soft and tender. You wondered what he did before he was drafted, if he worked in factories or in a garage, if his hands had seen hard labor before he was handled a weapon and a battalion, or if they were a blank page, yet to be filled by the scars and abrasive markings of a man at war.

You turned it over gently, easing the back of his hand to sit cradled in your palm as you examined the burn. It looked like he’d singed it on the side of the stove. The ring of the plate visible on the edge of his palm.

“Didn’t think you were required take shifts in the kitchens, Sergeant,” you commented, raising an eyebrow, though you kept your focus on his hand.

“Helps with morale,” Bucky replied simply. “Doing the same grunt work together does something for when we’re out in the trenches, you know? I’m not any better than them because the higher-ups threw some title in front of my name. We’re all stuck here, aren’t we?”

There was a chuckle in his voice, a lightness, and it surprised you as you looked up to see that it didn’t quite touch his eyes. How often did that happen and you didn’t notice because you were so caught up in holding up walls to keep from his games? How often had it not been a game at all and rather a mask he wore, to protect the most vulnerable parts of himself from giving into the horrors he saw on the front lines?

He took a deep breath, focused on the grip of your hand around his as you slowly started to apply aloe along the burn. Cautious eyes glancing up to him, you watched as his shoulders slumped a little, a weight lifting from the tension he carried as the cooling of the gel started to take effect. The hardened lines on his face softened, his breaths coming in a bit steadier, the sigh that left his lips light and sweet.

“I’m sure they appreciate what you do for them,” you said, softer this time, in hopes of distracting yourself from the way his lips parted ever so slightly in relief the longer you soothed the gel along his hand.

“Eh, keeps me busy,” he said, brushing it off, almost like the praise was uncomfortable for him, like it didn’t feel warranted or necessary. He smiled to himself, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as you started to wrap his hand, gentle touches delicately easing the bandage around the burn. “Brought me back to you, didn’t it? I call that a win.”

You laughed a bit at that despite yourself as you clipped the edges of the bandages and secured it properly. “I’m sure you would have found an excuse to come bother me all on your own, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he reminded you again, grinning so wide it must have hurt.

“I don’t want to see you in this tent for at least a week,” you warned, placing his hand back into his own lap. You stood, brushing the wrinkles from the edges of your dress. Though you were stern with him, you were smiling. He certainly took notice of it.

“That’s a lot to ask of me, sweetheart. I’m a clumsy guy.”

“You’re the best sharpshooter we have!”

“I’m a mess, honey. Look at me! You’re my only hope.”

“Oh, get out of here!” you laughed, pushing on his shoulders though you were met with significant resistance; a playful game of cat and mouse, and damn if you weren’t completely falling for it.

He finally gave in when your laughter started to draw the attention of the nurses gathered around the bedsides of injured soldiers, and you swatted him on the shoulder, heat flushing to your cheeks in embarrassment, though you were unsuccessfully biting back a smile.

As he made his way to the exit, he turned back for a final look, surprised to find you still watching him, and he winked; cool and collected, confident. You shook your head at him, arms folded over your chest, but he saw the way the corners of your lips pushed up high into your cheeks, the brightness in your eyes, the whisper of a laugh still in your breath.

If this was all a game, he was certainly winning.

***

A few weeks later and the nurses had resorted to reserving a spot for Bucky in the back of the tent; the same cot in your assigned row because he all out refused to be seen by anyone else. He’d duck through the canvas flaps at the entrance, smile politely at the nurses and wait patiently for you to notice him.

His injuries varied anywhere from a paper cut along his palm to a splitting headache to simple heartburn. He knew better than to take your attention away from soldiers who really needed it, but he’d come to consume the moments in between, whether you liked it or not.

But a funny thing started to happen.

You started to look forward to the days when he’d peep his head into the tent, checking to make sure you were on shift before he’d saunter his way inside and take his seat on his favorite cot. You’d find disappointment burning like jealousy in your chest on the days he didn’t, and your mind would wonder where he was or if he was alright.

He’d once waited hours before you were able to step away from the gunshot wounds of a soldier two beds down and though the scrape on his knee had all but scabbed over by then, he stuck around until the kid stabilized. 

You were exhausted by the time you made it over to Bucky, losing hope that you’d be able to keep the injured soldier alive through the night and trying to mask the utter helplessness you felt.

But Bucky made his light-hearted jokes, he teased you for the dirt on your forehead, whined and complained dramatically about his knee though you both knew he’d sleep it off my morning, and it brought back a smile to your face before you realized it. He managed to push through even the darkest parts of your days.  

***

Bucky’s regiment was out on assignment for over a week and you would have been lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss him. You found yourself glancing down at the entrance every few minutes, feeling like something was missing when you finished your checklist, stabilized your patients, and finally had a free moment for yourself. There was something else you would have been attending to.

It wasn’t until you realized it was Bucky you were searching for, waiting to see his smile light up at he caught your eye, that it hit you just how easily you’d fallen for him.

At the end of a very long week, he stumbled into the med tent on a rolled ankle, leaning off the shoulder of Captain America himself, complaining of a pain in his left arm. You were relieved to see him, like a weight lifted from your chest that was holding you underwater for days, but you couldn’t let him see that.

“Been a while, honey,” he smirked. “Miss me?”

“Watch yourself, Barnes,” you warned, though it was light and airy. You eased his arm over your shoulders and excused Steve as he was still supporting his weight. You tried not to focus on how nice it felt to have Bucky this close, his arm draped over your shoulders, his side pressed up tight to yours as he hobbled in support of his injured ankle.

“Got real lonely out there on the front without you,” Bucky teased as you helped him down to the cot. “Stevie had to fix me up. Wasn’t pretty.”

“I can see that,” you laughed, gesturing to the mess of bandages circling around his arm. “What did you do? Bump into the corner of the tank?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckled awkwardly, pulling his arm from what remained of his sleeve to give you better coverage. He curled his shirt up in his hands, shivering as the cold touched exposed skin and you tried to ignore the taunt lines of his muscles and the placement of freckles down his back, the shadows over his abdomen.

Slowly, you pulled back the bandages, wrapped about a dozen times over, until red started to appear in the white of the cloth, soaking through the layers thicker and darker until you found the source. Your smile had long fallen by the time you saw the wound on his arm, a bullet grazing on the outer stretch of muscle; ripped and raw on the edges, a piece of your heart torn along with it.

“You were shot?”

“Oh, come on, doll, it ain’t so bad,” Bucky chuckled. “It’s just a little graze.”

You shook your head, quickly tending to the open wound with alcohol swipes that left him hissing from the sting of it. Your hands were shaking slightly, but you held your breath in hopes he wouldn’t notice.

“Why is it that you feel the need to come in here with senseless injuries and waste my time but when you're actually hurt, you brush it off like it’s nothing?” 

You weren’t angry despite the tone of your voice. No, it was fear that took over, marred through the tension of your words and the frantic thumping inside your chest. The idea of him never walking into your tent again ripped the heart straight from you. 

“We’re at war, honey,” Bucky replied gently and though he still wore that beautiful smile on his face, it was softer. “This kind of stuff happens all the time.”

“Not to you,” you whispered, voice low and heavy.

Your fingers were trembling as you attempted to thread the needle for the third time, though it was no use. It kept missing the eye, your hand was shaking too much for a steady grip. You couldn’t protect him when he was out in the trenches, couldn’t heal his wounds and tend to his injuries. You couldn’t save him if something happened out there, leaving him stranded. 

A few inches to the right and the bullet could have torn through a major artery and maybe Steve Rogers would have showed up in your tent with his helmet held at his chest and a solemn look in his eye when he told you that Bucky fought valiantly until his last breath.

The thread missed the needle again and you let out a groan, a wave of frustration and anger and fear and suddenly Bucky’s hands were on yours, slowly lowering them back to your lap. He smiled sweetly at you as he gently took the needle and thread from your hands and slipped it through the eye. He knotted it at the end and handed it back to you, adjusting his position on the cot to give you better leverage.

“I should get someone else to do this,” you said quietly.

“No deal, honey. You’re the only one for me.”

“Bucky, my hands are shaking. I should ask one of the girls to--”

“It’s you or I walk.” 

Bucky smirked, winking at you over his shoulder before he settled in again. Determined and stubborn as you’d ever seen him. 

You sighed, pushing out a deep breath as you steadied your hand. “Okay, well, no complaining if you end up with a scar.”

“Me? Never.”

***

Bucky wasn’t the only soldier in the tent that night and you were worn thin; running on startling lack of caffeine and frequent cold bursts of air outside, you hadn’t slept in nearly two days as you attended to the influx of injured men.

Half of your girls were out sick from the bug that was floating around camp, though you were almost certain it wasn’t airborne as they insisted and they’d contracted it by getting cozy with the soldiers. You couldn’t blame them for seeking comfort amongst the harsh conditions of the war, but being down two girls in an overcrowded, busy tent full of men in terrible pain wasn’t easy to manage on your own.

Bucky’s presence seemed to help, though. He’d smile at you whenever you looked in his direction and you started to wonder if he was watching you as you worked, as opposed to the book in his lap. He always seemed to be looking at you when you turned over your shoulder to check in on him, anyway. The pages of the book sitting in his hand remained unturned for too long, even as he fought against the heaviness of his lids, sleeping threatening to pull him under though he resisted.

He gave in after you’d swiped the book from his hands and ordered him to close his eyes.

“Anything for you, doll,” he said, yawning through every syllable.

You watched as he settled into the sheets, bare chest exposed and the heavy bandage wrapped around his arm. His eyes fluttered shut, nose scrunching as he sniffled in a tight breath, and his whole body seemed to relax, finding sleep rather quickly.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time the med tent quieted down.

Most of the men were asleep, the others too doped up on pain medications to notice much of anything going on around them, their eyes softly gazing out ahead of them, heavy eyelids falling shut. You let the remaining girls go back to their own tents until dawn, given that the worst of it all had subsided.

With a tired yawn, you dragged your feet down to Bucky’s bed. He was snoring softly in his sleep, lips parted just slightly, and you realized gazing down at him, that he looked years younger like this; the innocence he often masked amongst the perils of war rising fresh to the surface, unobstructed.

With a cautious hand, you reached out and grazed your fingertips along his arm; his whole body sighing in response, a slight curve of his lips, his head lulling to the side closest to the touch.

But you couldn’t stand there and watch him sleep all night. The bandage had started to bleed through and it needed a rewrapping.

You pulled up a chair next to his cot, carefully beginning to unwrap the cloth from around the tight muscle of his arm. Smooth skin under pebbled goosebumps from the chill outside, you gently released the bandage to the mattress. The wound didn’t look so bad underneath, but you cleaned it up a bit to be safe. With a quick dab to his arm with the disinfectant, you glanced up at his face in search of a hitch in his breath or a hiss on his tongue, but he remained fast asleep.

Even men like Bucky Barnes needed a break. He looked so sweet sleeping like that, the slight pout on his lips as you cleaned the wound, the sniffle through the beginnings of a head cold. 

You yawned, struggling to keep your eyes open and quickly rebandaged his arm. There were more men in this tent that needed your attention.

A few beds down and an hour later, you began to switch out the IV drip of a man with a severed leg; a young, baby faced kid who didn’t look old enough to graduate school, let alone be given a gun in the middle of wartime. He scrunched his nose in his sleep, his thigh twitching like he might still think something was there. There was sweat beading on his face, dripping damp into the pillow. You didn’t know how much longer he had.

Your legs wobbled slightly under you and you gripped onto the bedside table. The exhaustion was starting to reel you in, pull you under to the warm embrace of sleep, but you had a job to do, men to care for. Pressing the heel of your palms to your eyes, you tried to push the tiredness from you, though a yawn broke through again anyway.

“Looking like you might need some rest, doll.”

You froze at the sound of his voice, like ice and fire, relief and panic.

A heavy sigh sat in your chest before you turned around, only to find Bucky brushing at his eyes, sleepily smiling up at you from his cot. He propped himself him on his elbows, as you quickly made yourself busy, simply watching as you continued about your work.

“Someone has to attend to these men, Bucky,” you replied, a little tenser than you usually were with him, but the exhaustion had taken hold of you and it took effort just to keep your eyes open.

“Doll,” he called, softer this time, “you’re going to pass out. Where'd everyone go?”

“Sent them off. No need for a crowd to watch over sleeping men.” You checked the vitals of a man across the aisle from Bucky; steady rhythm, even pulse. He’d make it until morning, at least.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked slowly and you could feel his eyes following you around the tent, watching intently as you tended to each of the men, assuring yourself that they were as restful as they appeared. There was a concern in his voice, a sincerity, and it tensed in your shoulders.

You released a heavy breath, keeping focused on replenishing the infusion bag of a soldier who was hanging on by a thread. One quick glance back at Bucky proved to be a mistake as he was still watching you, though it was under kind, worried eyes. He was still waiting on an answer.

“You don’t need to be worrying about how much I’m sleeping,” you said, turning your back to him because your eyes were falling heavy and it was near impossible to keep them open. You leaned onto the frame of another soldier’s bed for support, pretending to be busy for Bucky’s sake.

“No?” Bucky questioned with an embellished sigh. “Someone has to, don't you think?”

“Bucky, I’m fine,” you yawned, covering your mouth with your wrist as you turned back to face him. 

He chuckled a bit under his breath, chin falling to his chest, before he smiled up at you like you’d missed out on some kind of inside joke.

“Oh, ‘course you are, doll. Must have been someone else who put the same bloody bandage back on my arm after cleaning it then, huh?” he shrugged teasingly, gesturing to his arm where a dark red bandage circled around his bicep.

Your eyes blew wide, a gasp in your throat and you rushed over to him. Hands fumbling for the chair, missing several times and resorting to falling at your knees, you made quick work of trying to peel away the red bindings.

“Shit! Shit, I’m-- shit,” you panted, shaking, “that’s never happened before and I—oh God, I’m so sorry, Bucky—I’ll fix it, just—just give me a second and—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, honey,” Bucky cooed sweetly, helping to unfasten the bandage because your hands were fumbling too long with the clasps. His right hand encased your shaking fingers, holding them tightly long enough to pull your attention away from his arm. “It happens, okay? No harm done. I’m aces, alright?”

“No, no, it’s wildly...” you sucked in a sharp breath, tingling in the back of your jaw, stretching at your cheeks, “...unacceptable and I...” another yawn broke through, “...should report myself because...” and a third.

“Jesus, doll, listen to you. You’re exhausted,” Bucky eased, reaching for the clean bandages on the bedside table. He grabbed a fresh one and put one end between his teeth for leverage as he began to wrap his own arm.

You sat back on your heels, kneeling next to his bed and certainly getting dirt along the end of your dress. You watched as he wove the clean cloth in and around his arm, concentration etched into his facial features to mask the slight wince of pain as the fabric touched the wound.

Guilt was fresh in your chest as Bucky wrapped his arm himself, pulled it tight and gestured for you to fasten it. He could have done it himself, you were sure. There was a smile on his face as he looked at you, like he was trying to make you feel better.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. It won’t happen again,” you mumbled, defeated and you rose to your feet, beginning to walk away.

“Wait, honey, don’t go--”

You froze, surprised by a sudden grip at your hand before you could take a step away from his bedside, and when your eyes shot back to his, he let go immediately, his cheeks flushing red as he began to laugh nervously. It was a kind of embarrassment you never expected to see in him.

“You don’t gotta apologize to me, doll,” he started, scratching at the back of his head.

“I can’t afford to make mistakes,” you retorted, voice a little more somber. “You can’t afford it either.”

“Then, make it up to me.”

You narrowed your eyes, fighting off the urge to yawn again. “What would you have me do?”

“Get some rest?” he asked sheepishly, scooting to the far edge of the tiny, twin size cot. He took up most of the space himself and you swore you may have seen him swallow nervously as he pulled down the covers, gesturing to the open space.

“No, I... I can’t,” you said flatly, though your heart was racing.

“You’re going to pass out where you stand and you said yourself you can’t afford to make more mistakes,” he argued gently. “Just a few hours. Then you’ll be good as new. No more dirty bandages.”

“Bucky, I...” you shook your head, stepping back and folding your arms over your chest. “I-- I have to look after these men. I can’t fall asleep. What if something happens?”

“I’ll wake you up,” he responded with a shrug. “I got my hours in. Anyone starts throwing a coughing fit, monitors start going haywire, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

“People will talk,” you whispered, excuses lined up but Bucky didn’t let them break his smile for even a moment.

“No one's around, sweetheart.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“So is half my guys sleeping with your girls and yet...”

You laughed a bit at that, chewing on the edge of your lip, the rouge long faded of color. A heavy silence passed, a slight sway in your stance as your body fought tirelessly against the urge to close your eyes. Glancing down the rows of cots, it seemed quiet. Not a peep for hours and everyone was stable.

You turned back to Bucky. He was waiting patiently.

“You’ll wake me?”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to smile wider, but – God – it was blinding.

“Cross my heart.”

Stepping out of your shoes, you slowly made your way to the edge of his bed. You stared down at the open space and the slim line of mattress available to you. You must have taken too long because he started shifted a bit more to the edge, to the point where he was nearly falling off.

“Promise I’ll be a complete gentleman,” he chuckled lightly, cheeks pink and rosy. It was damn near impossible to say no to him when he looked at you like that, with a sincerity you hadn’t known since you left the States, draped under ocean blue.

“One hour,” you warned him as you slowly lowered yourself into the cot beside him. It squeaked as you let your weight fall to its uneven springs, the lumps evident against your back, the frame prominent through the thin cushion.

“One hour,” he agreed, giving you space as you rested your head against the pillow if you wanted it, though you heard his breath hitch as you tugged his arm down a little to lean against his shoulder, his right arm curling around your back to keep you steady on the bed.

Laying on your side, curled up next to him, you rested your left arm against his chest, tracing your fingers along the exposed lines of his stomach, the dip at his sternum, the scars littering smooth stretches of beautifully tanned skin. He shivered under your touch, his breath slightly uneven, though he didn’t say anything. His hold on you tightened as he suppressed a gasp under the bite of his teeth, like a reflex, pulling you tighter as his toes curled and his spine lightened.

“This okay?” you asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper and you watched as your breath touched his chest, goosebumps in its wake.

“Perfect, honey,” Bucky replied sweetly, his fingers drawing patterns along your back, tracing along the zipper of your dress and the seams in the shoulders. “Close your eyes, will you?”

A sleep heavy laugh pulled up at your cheeks, resting on his chest, as you let your hand fall flat against his stomach. You nodded, curling up as close against him as you could manage, losing yourself in the gentle waves of his touch along your spine.

“Thank you,” you whispered as your eyes began fluttering shut. You could hear the pulse of his heart beating gently under your ear, the steady rhythm lulling you a warm embrace. The slip of consciousness tugging you kindly to the ease of temporary darkness.

There was a slight touch on your forehead, something warm and sweet, lingering as your breaths became longer, steadier, drawn out and even; the heat of breath to your skin, the slight hum of a content sigh. A kiss as gentle and kind and tender as the man behind it.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[chibsytelford]

Queen of my Heart

* GIF CREDIT TO CREATOR *

word count - 2139

warnings - slight mention of strangulation, murder, swearing, angst - I think that’s it. 

a/n - i haven’t described reader at all. I’m actually really nervous to post this for some reason. I am sure this is the longest thing I have written yet, and idk just nervous. Reblogs and comments are welcomed, and if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist just let me know!

P.s I didn’t mean for it to be this long, and it is kinda based on the song Queen of my Heart by Westlife (my guilty pleasure). Italics are flashbacks and the lyrics.

You knew from the start that getting into a relationship with Angel Reyes might not have been the best decision. Pasts will do that to you. You knew when you first laid eyes on him, that inside he was hiding his pain. The only reason you noticed it was because you were hiding the exact same pain as him. Normally, you avoided guys with baggage, because frankly you could barely deal with your own, never mind someone else’s, but something about him just kept you gravitating more towards him, as each day passed.

It started out in his father’s butcher shop, you had just finished work and you were in the mood for some steak, so you finally checked out la carniceria and you knew the second you walked in you were in trouble. All you wanted was a bit of steak, but you left with (not that you were complaining) Angel Reyes’ phone number. He gave you some standard cheesy pick up line, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, and you knew as soon as he opened his mouth that you were done for, your ‘I don’t do baggage rule’ going straight out the shop door.

It took you a few days to text him. You actually drafted up a ‘Why I should text Angel Reyes list’ and a ‘Why I shouldn’t text Angel Reyes list’ and funnily enough, the list that had more on it was the ‘Why I shouldn’t list’ but as it turns out, the lists were pointless, because you text him anyway.

Your first date you walked around the streets of Santo Padre, just chatting away about life in general, what you did for a job, what he did for a job (he didn’t tell you that much, just that he was in a club with some other men) and of course you didn’t want to pry, it was the first date and all. You spoke about pretty much everything, except the past. It was too early for that. At the end of it, he walked you home, and left you on your door step, wishing you had invited him in, wishing you had kissed him, wishing you had asked him on a second date. But you didn’t need to wait long for a second date.

2 days after your first date, you were on the back of Angel’s motorbike, both hands wrapped tightly around his torso. He had insisted on taking his bike, he wanted you to enjoy the thrill of it as much as he did, and if you were being honest, it was absolutely thrilling, as well as absolutely terrifying. He drove you both to a small forest, where you enjoyed a picnic and the scenery and the attention that Angel was giving you. It was then you decided to pry, just a little bit.

“Tell me Angel, what secret are you carrying?” You asked catching him off guard.

“What makes you think I’m carrying any?” He responded, popping a strawberry in his mouth, conveniently answering a question with another question.

“Honestly? The first time I saw you, when you gave me that hideous pick up line” you both laughed at the memory “the smile you gave me afterwards, it was genuine, but it wasn’t quite a full smile, you know?”

Angel took a moment to gather his thoughts. First he rubbed his beard, then he rubbed his neck, and then he fiddled with his fingers. You placed your hand over his, comforting him, silently telling him there was no rush to answer the question.

He sighed, and slightly shifted his body so he could look at you. “Well, uh, the thing is, I’m not good at this shit, feelings” you could see the pain etched on his face, the way his eyebrows twitched and the way he couldn’t meet your eyes for more than a second.

“Do you want me to go first?” you softly asked, brushing your fingers across his ringed hand, soothing him, and yourself. You knew if you expected him to open up so soon, you had to give him something back.

Angel swiftly nodded, and relaxed slightly, and it was his turn to rub circled on your hand, silently telling you he was listening.

“I came to Santo Padre to get away from my family, my step father specifically”. You took a deep breath and continued “he was horrible. But for some reason, my mother couldn’t bring herself to leave him, something about love. I don’t know” you hated telling this story, if you could call it that, but something about Angel just made you want to tell him everything. “One day, I got home and found him on top of my mother, his hands around her throat, and so I grabbed a kitchen knife, and I stabbed him until I knew he was dead.” Angel’s body tensed and he stopped caressing your hand for a split second, shocked at your revelation. You pulled your hand away instantly, wrapping them around your body.

“Shit Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry you had to go through that” Angel murmured, pulling you into him and placing a soft kiss on your temple, but you could tell his demeanour had changed slightly.

“My mother luckily vouched for my version of events, and so I got away with it, but that feeling of killing someone never leaves you, it takes over your mind and soul” you felt Angel nodding at your remark, like he was admitting he had killed someone too. “Anyway, I stayed there for another few years, in that godforsaken house, but I knew, deep down, as much as she tried to hide it, my mother looked at me differently, so I got out of there, and came here a few years ago, I’ve been laying low, still trying to wrap my head around what I done, that’s probably why you’ve never seen me before. It was fate that took me to your father’s shop” you nudged him in the shoulder, trying to lift the mood slightly.

“That it was” Angel replied back, “And I guess now it’s my turn huh” you nodded in agreement. “Well, I lost my mother, Marisol, years ago. She was murdered” As soon as Angel uttered those words, you knew why he had tensed earlier and you knew why he was just that little bit colder towards you. Because you had murdered someone, and his mother was murdered. “We found the guy, but we kept him alive. He was ordered to do it” You weren’t sure if Angel would want you to touch him, so you kept your hands to yourself, waiting for him to continue his story. “I carry the pain of her death with me every single day, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it” he admitted.

“Of course you won’t, it’s your family, your mother and that will always stick with you in your heart” you said, reassuring him that it was normal. “It seems we are both pretty fucked up, huh?” Angel commented, lifting the mood once again ever so slightly.

“Do you look at me differently now? Knowing that I murdered someone?  I did to my stepfather what someone did to your beloved mother” you questioned.

Angel took a second to answer. “You had your reasons, reasons I agree with, so no, I don’t feel differently towards you” but as Angel said that, you were second guessing him, and you always would.

After your second date, when you got home, Angel asked you to officially be his girlfriend. You said yes, but there was still a small part of you that thought it was a bad idea, and that it could only end badly. You thought Angel only asked you to be his girl because you both shared stories of your past and you clicked together, and you said yes, because you really liked him, but also because you thought you deserved happiness, and he did too, even though you still carried the thought inside you that Angel looked at you a little different after your revelation. You knew you were being selfish, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

 Recently Angel had been spending more time with the club, over time you had learned completely what they did, and you stood by Angel. Everyone had their reasons for doing things, and you knew that better than most people. You felt that he was avoiding you more than usual, staying out later, leaving earlier in the mornings, barely responding to texts, and something inside you, just didn’t really care anymore. You had had a wonderful couple years being by Angel’s side, but you always knew that something like this might happen.

You quickly fired a text to Angel telling him to meet you at your place. The forest where your second date took place.  

He arrived on his bike 5 minutes after you, and you watched him walk towards you. It seemed to take an eternity until he was standing in front of you. It was the same place, but you felt like a completely different person standing here now, a few years on.

“Hey” you said, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thanks for coming”

“Of course I came” he answered back, rubbing the back of his neck. You wondered if he was feeling the same as you. It would make the whole thing a bit easier if he did.

“I just wanna-“  Angel cut you off, holding a hand up to stop you talking. “Can I go first?” You nodded at him, secretly glad he wanted to.

“I love you, I really do, but I think you know as well as me, we stopped working months ago, I’m not good at this shit, feelings” you both said together, causing a small smile from the man stood in front of you. “Exactly, I don’t know if you’ve noticed I’ve been distant lately, the shit with the club has taken over my life completely, but I think I’m just realising now, that we jumped into this too quickly” Angel revealed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You nodded, acknowledging what he said and taking a second to gather your thoughts.

“I mean, Angel, I love you too, but I have to admit, you’re right. I should be angry you’ve been coming home late, I should be angry that you barely reply to my texts, but honestly I haven’t been. I think we did rush into this like you said, after our second date, where we both revealed our pasts, I think we took comfort in knowing that our pasts were out there, and we weren’t being judged. I know that now”. You both visibly relaxed slightly, and the atmosphere shifted too. It was calm. Nice.

Angel made the first move, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on your palm. You closed your eyes for a second, engraving the memory of the kiss in your mind.

“Thank you Y/N, for trusting me with your secret, for listening to my pain and past, for just being you. I know we didn’t work out, but I just want you to know, I will always remember you.” Angel wiped a stray tear that had managed to escape his eyes. “Fuck, look at me” he laughed.

So here we stand in our secret place

Where the sound of the crowd is so far away

You take my hand, and it feels like home

We both understand, it where we belong

So do I say, do I say goodbye

We both have our dreams we both want to fly

So let’s take tonight, to carry us through the lonely times

“God Angel, you’ve got me crying now” you laughed back also wiping away your tears.  “I’m glad we met. You accepted me for who I am, and for that I will always thank you, and cherish you. Who knows, maybe under different circumstances, we would have worked out, but I can honestly say I’m thankful for the years we have spent together, it just wasn’t meant to be”.

You and Angel gave each other one last hug, one last smile, one last look. “Take care, querida, I’ll always remember you” Angel whispered, placing your hand over his heart.  He then let go and headed back to his bike. You watched him walk away, you watched him climb onto the bike and you watched him drive away from you. You were sad of course, but you knew that it was for the best.

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I'll always look back as I walk away

Memories will last for eternity

And all of our tears will be lost in the rain

When I found my way back to your arms again

But until that day, you know you are

The Queen of my heart

[guardianofrivendell]

LOTR/Hobbit Characters and Your First Kiss

A/N: This was a preference series I honestly expected someone to request by now, and it sat in my drafts for a long time. I finally had inspiration to write it so here you go. I’ve done some kisses in previous preferences, but nothing beats the very first kiss. Enjoy!

A/N 2: I know that these preferences aren’t really short enough to be called preferences, both Legolas and Kili are 700+ words...  🙈 Next time I’ll just write “And then you kissed.”

Warnings: kisses (duh!), some a little steamier than the other (couldn’t help myself sorry not sorry) and an f-bomb with Kili (which I know is out of character but work with me here)

LEGOLAS  

Longing glances, accidental hand brushing, pining after someone who was seemingly out of reach... It wasn’t unknown to you, unfortunately. You and Legolas had been dancing around each other for what seemed like centuries. Which was impossible since you were human, but it certainly felt that long to you. Feelings were involved from the very first moment you laid eyes on him, and you tried to make it known in a subtle, and later in a not so subtle way. But Legolas was oblivious or just plain stupid - you hadn’t decided yet - and you stayed in the friendzone.  Some moments you were sure he returned your feelings, and then something happened (or didn’t happen) that made you not so sure anymore. Like the lack of kisses to name one.

You were not familiar with the Elvish way of courting. The only person you could ask was Legolas and yeah... that wasn’t going to happen. So you didn’t want to take any initiative, afraid you would cross a line you didn’t know existed.

And then the whole quest to destroy the one ring happened. You had joined for the adventure and to see more of Middle Earth, and yes, also because Legolas was coming too. No one could blame you for trying to spend more time with your crush... Who knows, maybe he had to save you and realizes he almost lost you, confessing his feelings because of it. Failsafe plan right? Yeah well... that didn’t happen. You were in constant danger, that went like expected, but it seemed like you didn’t need saving since you were a seasoned warrior. And to put yourself in mortal peril on purpose, that just wasn’t like you. Sure, Legolas held your hand while climbing rocks, or let you rest your head on his shoulder when you were tired. But that’s what every member of the fellowship would do. They didn’t, but they would if you’d ask.

So when you, Aragorn, Gimli and Master Friendzone finally reached Edoras, you had given up all hope.  Which is why Éomer caught your eye. You had met him before when you were looking for Merry and Pippin and you couldn’t help but find the handsome, bulky man on a horse attractive. He was the exact opposite of everything Legolas was. Just what you needed. At the victory celebration of the battle of Helm’s Deep, Éomer had approached you. You were all dressed up - thank Éowyn for that - and he complimented your appearance, asking for a dance.  While you danced, you failed to notice Legolas was keeping an eye on you from across the room. He watched how you twirled around, pure joy written all over your face, and he couldn’t help but smile. He thought you looked absolutely stunning in a dress. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about you, but the feeling in his stomach didn’t lie. His smile dropped immediately when he saw how low Éomer’s hand was on your back. He felt a jolt of pain in his hand, and when he looked at it, he noticed he had crushed the empty metal cup he had been holding.

You felt Éomer’s hand on your lower back but you didn’t say anything. It was probably just the ale in his system. As soon as he would do anything inappropriate, you would end the dance but for now you were going to enjoy the attention.  When he twirled you again, you bumped into Legolas.  “A word, please?” he said through gritted teeth. He didn’t wait for your answer, dragging you off the dancefloor with more force than you ever expected him to use on you. He didn’t stop until you reached a deserted hallway, you could barely hear the music anymore.  “Legolas, what is going on with- mppfh!” You were silenced when he crashed his lips on yours, pushing you against the wall. It didn’t take long before you kissed him back. It was a rough kiss, all teeth and tongue and you hadn’t expect this from him at all. This wasn’t the sweet and gentle Legolas you knew. But hey, you weren’t complaining!  When he finally broke the kiss, you were both panting.  “What just happened?” you asked. You knew what happened of course, and you still couldn’t believe it, but you wanted to know what drove him to do this. “My eyes finally opened,” he spoke, licking his lips. “I am sorry it took me so long.” So it was jealousy that had finally done the trick.  “Well, I could think of a way or two to make it up to me...” you smirked, pulling him further down the hallway...

KILI

You worked at the pub Fili and Kili frequently visited. It was one of the few places they could leave all their royal duties (including the title) behind them and just be themselves. Sometimes they brought some of the other Dwarves of the company, but usually it was just the two of them.

Not that it made it easier for you when they were alone. Fili was the older brother and more mature one, but when he had his share of ale, all inhibitions went out the door. The same went for Kili, although he didn’t need ten mugs of ale to loosen up. He was very flirtatious by nature.  So when you heard him ask you for a kiss when you brought them their next round, you didn’t even look up. He always did this, and you always ignored it.

You didn’t know why he asked you for a kiss every single time. The first time he asked, he was so drunk you thought you misheard him. He pouted at your rejection and you promised him he would get one if he was sober. You knew he wouldn’t remember the next day. One week later, the brothers returned and Kili repeated his question when you served them their drinks. Since he was sober that time, you just laughed and shook your head. After that, it kind of became a habit. He would ask for a kiss, and you would reject him every single time.

“This calls for a kiss, don’t you think?” “I think I need you to pay for these drinks.” “Let me pay you with a kiss this time.” “Kisses don’t buy me food.” “Don’t I deserve at least one kiss?” “I’ll let you know as soon as you deserve one.”

He never gave up, and you never gave in. You hated to admit it, but it became harder and harder for you to reject Kili. Not that you were running out of comebacks, they came naturally to you. But you noticed him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking and you started to question if this really was all just a joke to him, or if this was his really weird - but effective - way of flirting. Only one way to find out, right?

The next time they entered the pub, you were one big ball of nerves. You poured two mugs of ale and brought it to their table. Kili’s face lit up when he saw you and it almost made you throw your plan out of the window. You placed the mugs in front of them, and waited for Kili to ask for his kiss. He didn’t disappoint. “So remind me again, was it one kiss per mug or one kiss per order?” “One kiss will do,” you said. 

Before your answer really got through to him, you grabbed his collar and planted your lips on his for a short, but firm kiss. You let go of him and quickly turned around to go back to the bar so you could go hide in the back room for the rest of your shift. What were you even thinking? Kili had other plans though. 

When he finally recovered, he jumped up and grabbed your wrist, spinning you around so you bumped into his chest. “Fucking finally,” he growled, and kissed you a second time. This kiss was anything but short. Kili took his time to explore and who were you to deny him? He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand, and weaved his fingers in your hair. You had to stand on your toes because he was a lot taller than you, keeping your hands on his chest for support.

A cough from Fili made you break the kiss. “Mahal,” Kili whispered, eyes wide when he pulled back. “So does this mean you accept kisses as a means of payment now?” Fili asked, getting to his feet and pouting his lips to give you a kiss. Kili pushed him back in his seat, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Don’t even think about it!”

ÉOWYN

You watched Éowyn train with her sword. She was a skilled sword-fighter, but since she was the shield maiden, they wouldn’t allow her to fight alongside men in battle. That didn’t stop her from training and improving her skills, on the contrary... It only made her train harder.

You were absolutely mesmerized by her. Her lean, but toned figure, how she handled the sword with such grace and ferocity at the same time... You were completely lost. But there was no way she would be interested in someone like you, a mere servant. And then there was also that tiny little thing about her being your best friend...

Éowyn was fierce, and often went in discussion with anyone who dared to doubt her. But when she was around you, she was soft and bubbly. You were one of the only people who had the privilege to see her smile.

One day she asked you to help with her training. You weren’t as skilled as her, so you were a bit reluctant at first. But who were you to turn down a chance to be this close to her? You noticed she was nervous. Éowyn was never nervous. Ever. What was going on in her head? The training started and you tried to make it enough of a challenge for her. Surprisingly enough you were winning, and with a last swing of your sword, you knocked her sword out of her hands. She cheered. “That calls for a victory kiss!” Wait... what?

She crossed the distance between you and silently asked for your permission. When you nodded and tried to ignore your loud heartbeat, she placed a soft kiss on your lips. “I’ve waited so long for you to do this,” you whispered. “All you had to do was ask,” she winked.

A/N: Don’t forget to reblog and comment or comment in your tags, I do read them!