#i really hoped they’d get some thrust this year

[eighthman-bound]

Green Party I’m so sorry you’re losing to utter scum like Reform, I’m so sorry this country is so blind and full of apathetic young people who don’t see the point in voting and bitter old people who are dry on empathy for others

[just-jordie-things]

if you look, you can tell - fushiguro megumi

word count: 6k warnings: swearing, i think that’s it summary: megumi finds himself eavesdropping a conversation between the rest of his classmates when he hears his name pop up.  the way you jump to his defense and have only sweet things to say about him has him second guessing the way he feels about you. ___

“It just doesn’t really make sense to me.  I get you guys are friends and all, but how can someone like you be friends with someone so…. Cold?”

Megumi was never really one for eavesdropping.  Not only because it was immature and would only cause drama, but because he’d never really felt a need to.  He can’t recall a conversation he’d ever stumbled upon that he deemed interesting enough to listen in on.  In fact, he’d rather find that everyone else was busy with conversation so he could slip out and do his own thing unnoticed.  A habit he’d picked up in his younger years when he still shared a living space with the white haired special grade sorcerer.

But for some reason, right now was different.

Maybe it was because he was the topic of conversation.  Maybe because Itadori, Kugisaki, and (y/n) were the ones around the corner.  Or maybe it was because something tugged on his heart strings when he heard Nobara’s admission.

He was headed to the common room to retrieve the book he’d left in there this morning, and hadn’t even realized all three of his classmates had the evening off from training and assignments.  He’d heard that they were talking as he’d approached, but didn’t halt in his steps until he realized they were talking about him.

“I think he can be nice,” Itadori defended weakly.  “I mean… I just met him, I guess,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, realizing he didn’t actually have much evidence to back up his statement.  But he was too nice of a guy to straight up gossip about his new classmate.  “Maybe he’s just quiet?” 

(y/n) nodded thoughtfully, knowing this to be true.  She figured she knew him better than the two newbies, and that was why they’d come to her with their curiosities about the stoic shikigami user.  Having been born and raised in Tokyo, she’d been introduced to Megumi long before they enrolled at Jujutsu Tech.  Although their friendship hadn’t truly sparked until their enrollment, she’d known him enough to understand him, his mannerisms, his fighting style, his strict routine- all of these things that she’d never really thought twice about before, she now realized sort of made her the on site Megumi- Expert.  She even chuckled a little bit at the thought.

Because back then, back when she first met the grumpy boy that was thrust before her by one Gojo Satoru, with an eager grin and the promise of “Look Megs, a friend your age!” She would have never thought she’d be in this position now.

“Megumi has always been reserved” She agrees to Itadori’s comment, but her voice is distant, clouded with something else as her mind grows too occupied.

It took some time after their first meeting for Megumi to grow on her.  Understandably, because he wasn’t exactly looking to grow on her.  He wasn’t looking for friends his age- he wasn’t looking for friends at all, really.  Whatever disease that had riddled his guardian’s mind in order to have him setting up playdates with this girl must have been fatal.  Or at least he’d hoped.

Time and time again she was dropped off at the Gojo-Fushiguro residence, or at the park where they were expected to play.  Time and time again Megumi barely spoke, barely looked at her, and hoped his blatant disinterest would be enough to deter Gojo from setting up anymore of the stupid playdates.

And honestly, (y/n) never really knew when that changed, or understood why it changed.  Her lip was caught between her teeth now as she thought it over, trying to trace back her steps to find the point in time where their acquaintanceship blossomed into true friendship, which she could confidently call their relationship now.

“Yeah, does he ever let anyone in?” Nobara scoffed, but she didn’t mean for it to come across as harsh as it sounded.  She had just felt awkward whenever she was around the raven haired boy, not knowing how to fill the silence as easily as Itadori.  “It just doesn’t make sense to me,”

From where he stood around the corner, Megumi slumped against the wall.  This is when he should have walked away, and forgotten he’d ever heard anything.  He shouldn’t have cared what they were saying about him, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that the new students didn’t feel buddy-buddy with him.  But there was some invisible force keeping him firmly in place, and intrigue won over logic in his mind as he waited to hear the rest of the conversation.

“I get you guys are friends and all, but how can someone like you be friends with someone so…” Nobara trailed off, and Megumi felt his heart drop to his stomach.  

He shouldn’t care.  This shouldn’t matter.  But then Nobara finally found the word she was looking for, and Megumi had never felt an ache in his chest quite like this before.

“Cold?”

Cold? His mind clung onto the word, picking it apart viciously.  Is that really what everyone thought of him? Is that really the image of himself everyone perceived? Again, he supposed he wasn’t the most expressive person, it wasn’t like he expected them to be singing his praises, but he certainly hadn’t expected that.

Before he could convince himself that he was being silly, he found himself frowning.  Never before had he cared what anyone thought.  As someone who actively kept people at arm's length, Megumi couldn’t think of a time he ever thought twice about someone else’s opinion of him.

And just as he’s ready to scoff and walk away, forgetting his book once more and deciding to never think about this moment of weakness again.

But then (y/n’s) speaking up.

“Cold?” She repeats the word, and Megumi stops in his tracks again at the tone of voice she takes.  His brows furrow and he’s leaning against the wall again, trying to decipher what the emotion that riddled her tone was.  Anger? He wondered, puzzled.  Humor? 

Raising from his stomach like it had been brought back to life, his heart stutters in his chest.

“Megumi’s anything but cold,” (y/n) argues, in that same tone of voice that he’d never heard before.  She follows it with a chuckle that sounds anything but humored.  “He’s the warmest person I know” 

Really? Megumi almost laughs to himself before remembering he was trying to stay hidden.

“Really?” Nobara gapes back at her, and (y/n) nods furiously.

“Absolutely,” She declares, firm in her stance.  “I’ve never met anyone like him.  He’s one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever known, you just have to know him, I suppose,” 

Honestly, hearing her argument, Megumi’s not all that sure what she’s talking about.  But he continues to hover in the hallway, now dying to know more.

“Megumi’s not like everyone else,” (y/n) says, her voice softening as she tries to explain her old friend’s habits to her new friends.  “He’s quiet, yeah, he’s always been that way.  But he’s not cold.  He’s quite the opposite.  He… he has a really big heart…” She trails off, chuckling to herself a bit.

I don’t know about that, Megumi thought bitterly, only for his face to heat up at such a sweet accusation.

“He probably wouldn’t say the same,” (y/n) speaks his thoughts exactly.  “But it’s true.  Megumi shows he cares through actions, not words” 

“Ohh..” Nobara and Yuuji spoke in unison.

(y/n) giggled a bit at the both of them.

“He’ll grow on you,” She tells them kindly.  “It takes time, but… Megumi’s one of the greatest friends anyone could ask for.  I’m certainly lucky to have him in my life” 

If Megumi wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now.  Even though no one was around to see, he found himself tucking his face into the collar of his jacket to hide the way his cheeks flushed with color at her openly affectionate words.

“Wow, (y/n), that’s really sweet,” Yuuji cooed.  “You must be very close, how long have you known each other?” 

“Well, a while,” (y/n) thought it over.  “Gojo tried to set us up as best friends when we were younger.  But I wouldn’t say it really worked till a year or so ago.  But I mean what I said, I respect him a lot.  He’s a really good person,” 

Really? Megumi smiled to himself at such a blatant lie.  She would think that.

“He always helps me when I need it, especially when it comes to training, or studying,” (y/n) goes on to explain.

Well, he supposed that was true.  But he just wanted her to excel in their field, she had so much potential, it was only right to help her when she needed it.

“And he is kind of a secret gentleman,” She goes on, dropping her voice as though sharing a secret.  “Even before we were close, he’d carry my things for me, or open the door, pull out my chair…” She trails off as she recalls all the instances.

Megumi nodded to himself, confirming that she was telling the truth.  But that was just the right thing to do, Gojo had raised him right in that area, after all.  You treat women with respect, but he also believed in treating people the way he wanted to be treated.  Those two things seemed to overlap when it came to her.  So again, he realized that (y/n) was right about him.  He was starting to wonder if she knew him better than he gave her credit for.  Or even better than he knew himself.

“There was one time when we were younger…” She smiles at the memory.  “We stole a cookie out of Gojo’s stash, he broke it in half for us, and then gave me the bigger piece” 

Nobara and Yuuji take note of the way her eyes glaze over with fondness as she remembers the day.  They hadn’t even been friends yet, it was one of the instances where she was dropped off and left with him for hours in the hopes of the two of them becoming friends.  In fact, that particular day, she’d spent most of the time flipping through magazines with Tsumiki.  Thinking about it now, however, (y/n) wonders if that was the first bridge between them.  The uneven halves of a chocolate chip cookie being a shared secret from the white haired man knocked out on the living room couch.  She makes the mental note to ask Megumi if he remembers it that way.

“Aww!” Nobara clasps her hands together as she fawns over the simple memory.  (y/n) can’t help but laugh a little at the way her classmates treat Megumi’s soft side.  “He must’ve had a ‘widdle crush on you!” She teases in a cartoonish voice.

Megumi’s eyes widened upon hearing the declaration.  Had he come across that way? His heartbeat picked up with anxiety, and he worried about what (y/n) would have to say next.

Because he certainly didn’t have a crush on her.  All those nice things he did for her, he did because they were friends, they were all things friends would do, right? Helping her with training, carrying her bag when she complained about her back hurting, cooking her dinner when she said she hadn’t eaten all day, taking her to that movie she wanted to see even though he thought it was predictable and cheesy- Megumi was sure that was just being a good friend.  Whether or not he wanted to do those things for her was out of the question.  

Just as she’d said- he showed he cared through actions.

Nevermind what he thought.  Nevermind if she was the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.  Nevermind if she had the kindest heart he ever had the pleasure- or luck- of meeting.  Nevermind if she proved time and time again that she was the most wonderful person through and through- 

Megumi thought he was going to throw up just thinking about it.  But he couldn’t help himself.  He thinks about her most hours of the day, he realizes now.  He waits for her to text him back, he wonders what she’s doing when he’s not around, tons of things reminded him of her.  That flower she pointed out in the garden, anything that was her favorite color, when it rained, when the sun was shining, hell, even his own shikigami made her cross his mind.

Fuck.

He shakes his head as he tries to ground himself back to reality.  None of that was really evidence of him having deeper feelings for her though, was it? He could care about her strongly as a friend, couldn’t he? How stereotypical was he for second guessing himself as soon as he cared about his friend who was a girl.  A pretty girl.  They were capable of being friends without romantic tension.

But then again, if she were to make a move, he wouldn’t exactly push her away, would he? 

His face feels impossibly hotter at the question he raised to himself.  What a tricky answer that was, indeed.  The gears in his brain began to malfunction and break down over how simple the answer that came to him was.

“I don’t know about that…” (y/n’s) voice softens as she trails off.

Something unfamiliar bubbles up in Megumi’s stomach.  It feels like he’s eaten too many sweets and washed it down with pure alcohol.  It’s bubbly, and sickeningly sweet.  It makes the tips of his fingers buzz and the corners of his lips tug into an uncontrollable smile.  He’s not sure if he hates the feeling or wants to chase after it.

“Well, you should ask him out!” Yuuji cheers.

“Wh- what?” (y/n) stammers back.

“I bet he’d say yes,” The pink haired boy says with a bright smile of affirmation.  “You’re definitely his favorite, and he stares at you a lot” 

I do?

“He does?” (y/n) asks, sounding a little breathless.  

Was she surprised? Horrified? Megumi couldn’t tell.  He was dying to see the look on her face, so he could get a proper read on how she was processing all of this.

“Oh yeah.  I see him staring at you all the time” Yuuji confirms.

“Me too” Nobara chimes in.

“Honestly, I thought you guys were dating when I first got here” Yuuji adds.

He did?

“You did?” (y/n) can’t help the small chuckle that comes out of her.  “Why?” 

“Dunno,” Yuuji shrugs.  “He stands close to you.  And most of the time when he talks it’s just to you.  I just thought it was flirting” 

No you idiot, I just don’t need anyone eavesdropping on- oh… Megumi drags his hand over his face, tugging on his skin as his eyes roll back.  Fuck, he was the biggest idiot on the planet.

Of course he had a crush on her.  How long had he not noticed? Or had it always been there? 

(y/n’s) giggling pulls him out of his train of thoughts.  Cute and bubbly, he can tell from their sound that she’s shaking her head in disbelief.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” She tries to deter her new friends from going down that path, but her voice has that same soft and sweet tone that Megumi hopes he’s not reading into when he thinks she’s hopeful that they could have it all right.  “We’ve known each other for a while.  I think if something were to happen it would’ve happened already” 

It’s quiet for a beat, and Megumi’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest now he can feel it in his ears.  It’s upsetting and distracting, as he’s dying to hear more of this conversation.  He worries he might’ve picked up a real knack for spying, but he can’t think of anything more interesting than this.

“You say that like you want something to happen,” Nobara teases.  “Are you the one with a crush?” 

With every second that passes before (y/n’s) response, Megumi frets he’s going to pass out.  He’s sure his body is going to hit the ground giving away his embarrassing eavesdropping.

“I…” (y/n) starts but trails off.  Megumi wishes he could peek around the wall and watch the scene unfold.  He’s sure that if he could see her, he could deduce her answer for himself.

If she was fidgeting, then he could confirm that she did, in fact, harbor a crush on him.

If she was standing still out of shock from the idea, then he’d know she thought the idea was preposterous, and there wasn’t a chance she felt anything more for him.

“I haven’t thought about it” She finishes quietly.

There’s some shuffling of feet and a distant hmmph from Nobara’s disbelief, or intrigue, maybe.  Either way, the conversation must’ve been done.  Yuuji was shouting goodbyes as he left the room to meet up with Maki for rigorous training.  Nobara followed suit shortly after, claiming she had nothing better to do so watching Maki train was the perfect way to spend her afternoon.

(y/n) laughed and waved goodbye to her friends.  Once they were out of sight she let out a shaky exhale.

Jesus, that was close, she thought as she finally made her way to the couch, ready to collapse and relax.  Her heart had been racing in her chest for the last few minutes and she needed a break from Yuuji and Nobara’s prying eyes.  She was sure they’d seen right through her, sure they’d been able to tell she was lying through her teeth.

Just as she was about to fall onto the cushions and let the couch take her into a much needed afternoon nap, she noticed a thick hardcover book had been left behind.  There was a bookmark sticking out of it halfway between the covers, but all of the pages before it were littered with small sticky notes.  She’d recognized it right away, if not for remembering this was the book Megumi had been reading all week, she’d deduce it was his from the heavy annotations.  She’d never met anyone who took reading as seriously as he did.

With a small smile she picked it up, deciding she could nap a little later.  He was likely wondering where he’d left the book after all, she was pretty sure he had the afternoon free.  On a mission, she heads out of the common room, while flipping to the first page marked by a skinny pink tab.

She’s so lost in reading the little comments he’d left on a larger note inside of the page- rather than actually reading any of the actual text- that she didn’t notice Megumi in the hall until she practically ran into him.

“Oh- sorry!” She yelped quietly upon seeing the tall figure in her peripheral.  When she looks up to see it’s Megumi, her shock melts into a small smile.  “Oh, Megumi! I was just coming to look for you,” She beams brighter, closing his book and extending it to him.  “This is yours, right?” 

Not knowing what to say, he gives her a shaky nod before taking the book from her hands.  He settles for a small thank you.

“No problem,” She replies.  “It was in my nap spot” She adds sheepishly.

Megumi chuckles, and he’s unable to keep himself from grinning.  (y/n) tilts her head at his bright smile, intrigued by the pure joy seeping out of him.  Her fingers latch together as a group of butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter in her stomach.

“Hey, I was wondering…” She starts, her brows pinching with uncertainty, but Megumi gives her his undivided attention.

“Yeah? What is it?” He asks, tucking the book under his arm.

He watches the way her fingers begin to fiddle.  He’s distracted by the nervous habit of hers, and his heart swells in his chest.  She was fidgeting.

“Uh, ah- it’s silly-” She starts to change her mind, but he shakes his head at her, too eager to hear what was on her mind to let her back out of it now.

“I’m sure it’s not,” He says boldly.  She must catch the way he looks at her in complete seriousness, because her eyes widen in the smallest amount.  “What is it?” He asks again.

Her cheeks feel warm, and Megumi watches in real time as a rosy tint flushes her face.  He can’t believe it took him so long to realize just how deeply he cared about her, because seeing her fidget and blush before him now, he thinks it could be his favorite sight of all time.

“D’you remember when we were little, and Gojo always made us have those playdates?” She asks with a small laugh that dies quickly as she’s overcome with bashfulness.

“Yeah, how could I forget that?” He chuckles back at her, his lips lifting into a fond smile, even though in most of his memories of that time, he was an irritated, angry little thing.  “What about it?” 

(y/n) opens her mouth to explain, but quickly shuts it and shakes her head.  A soft smile adorns her lips as her eyes fall to her hands, still fidgeting nervously.

“I dunno, I guess I…” She’s never struggled for words more than this moment, and she curses herself for acting like a shy little girl when she’s known Megumi for years, and she’s never quite felt like this.  “Do you remember when we became friends?” She rushes the question out, afraid that she’d say forget it and walk away with regret rather than feel a little embarrassment now and actually get an answer.

Megumi nods.

“I do” He responds right away.

“Like, actual friends,” (y/n) clarifies, sure that he spoke too soon.  “Not just kids dropped off at a playground for three hours and being expected to play together, I mean, like, real friends” 

Megumi nods again.

“I do,” He repeats, this time with a small chuckle.  “You don’t?” 

(y/n) chews on her lip as she shakes her head.  Her brow furrows in the slightest, curious as to how he has the better memory of the two of them.  Amused, he smirks at her.

“Well?” She asks impatiently.  “What changed?” 

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” He teases softly, making her roll her eyes.  “You’re hurtin’ my feelings, (y/n/n)” 

“I didn’t know you had feelings, ‘gumi,” She retorts playfully.  “But c’mon, tell me” She pleads sweetly, her eyes glittering with anticipation.

His eyes flicker between hers for a moment, swept away with the way she looked at him.  It dawns on him that if she asked him any favor this way, he’d comply without hesitation.  Her complete attention was on him, and he swore there was something in her eyes he’d never seen before.  Or perhaps he’d just never noticed it.  It was soft, but there was a depth there that he was aching to explore further.

“It was right before we came here,” He finally indulged her, his voice quiet like he was revealing a well kept secret, rather than a memory they actually both shared, even if she’d forgotten it.  “The weekend before, actually.  When we were moving into the dorms, you remember that?” 

(y/n) nods at the general memory.  She thinks she recalls making fun of him for listening to Weezer while unpacking in the room right across from hers.

“Gojo let us stay one night early.  Probably so he could have his place to himself,” The thought dawns on Megumi a little late, but he chuckles realizing it now.  “But at the time it was cool… cause we’d never been on our own before” 

“Right,” (y/n) smiles as she thinks about it now.  That first night on her own in her own space had felt so special, so exciting.  It was almost humorous how normal it felt now.  How her space felt completely her own.  “I almost forget how it was just you ‘n me for a bit here” 

“But you don’t remember the first night?” He asks.  A smile line creases between (y/n’s) brows as she racks her mind for the rest of the memory.

Making ramen noodles in the kitchen far too late in the night because she couldn’t sleep.  Pacing around the corridors and snooping where she shouldn’t have.

“You woke me up,” Megumi chuckles.

Realization dawns on her in the form of an embarrassed smile.

“Oh,” She muses softly.  “Right… I couldn’t sleep and… I was bored” 

“You begged me to get up with you, it was torture,” Megumi reminded her.  “And then you made me watch a movie with you, that dumb 80s movie you like that was way too long- and you didn’t even stay awake through it” 

“Okay okay-” (y/n) tries to dismiss him with a wave of her hand, but Megumi continues.

“But you talked through most of it anyways,” He speaks over her before she could get him to shut up.  “You said you were scared” 

Her eyes widen, and the story he’s telling sounds vaguely familiar, but truthfully she’d been so exhausted that night she couldn’t really remember the specific details all that well.  But she did remember waking him up in the middle of the night, so she’s surprised he’s able to recall this random moment from a year ago so easily.  Maybe his memory was just better than hers.

“I… I did?” She mumbles.

Megumi nods back, with his focused eyes set on hers.

“You said you were scared of failing,” His voice grows quiet again.  “You said you… you were scared of not getting stronger,” 

Despite this event having happened so long ago, (y/n) feels embarrassed now, and she can’t believe that Megumi’s clung to this memory in particular.  She almost wished she hadn’t asked, because she could’ve lived in peace never having known she’d revealed such a massive insecurity to him.

“And then you told me that you thought I was strong,” Megumi continues, a smile curling on his lips.  “And you asked if I’d help you get strong like me, too,” 

She’s sure she must be seeing things when she notices color flush his cheeks.  Because there was no way Fushiguro Megumi was blushing in front of her right now.

“Then you passed out on me and I was stuck watching the rest of the dumb movie so you wouldn’t wake up” 

“You watched the rest of the movie?” She asks softly.  He chuckles at her, and nods his head.  “I can’t believe I don’t remember any of that” 

“You were pretty tired,” He shrugs back in understanding.  “And it was a while ago, I wouldn’t have expected you to remember all of that” 

“I see…” (y/n) mumbles to herself.  She drags her lip between her teeth as she stays quiet for a few moments.

“And by the way,” He steps forward, catching her attention again as her eyes snap up to meet his, suddenly aware of the small space left between them.  “I do kinda stare at you a lot” 

Her face lights up with so much heat she thinks she’s going to combust.

“You- you heard that?” She squeaks out.

“And then some,” Megumi nods back.  For some reason, he doesn’t feel weird about shamelessly admitting that he’d been listening in on her conversation.  “Did you mean all of that?” 

Her mouth opens and closes a few times as her previous conversation comes back to her in waves.  The longer she thinks about it, the hotter the back of her neck grows.  He’d listened to all of that? He heard her ramble on about him? And had he heard that last part-? 

“I mean, y-yeah, yeah,” She stammers over her answer, accompanied with an awkward nod of her head.  “Of course I did” She says surely, but her voice is a mere whisper.

“Even that last part?” He asks, shuffling forward again.  Her eyes track the movement, bewildered by his sudden closeness, but she doesn’t dare put space between them.

“Last part?” She repeats, dumbly.

“Yeah,” Megumi nods, and he can’t help but reach out and trace his thumb under her jaw, ghosting over her skin with a touch so light she almost leans into it to feel it properly.  “You know, the part where you said you hadn’t thought about it, about me,” He reminded her, even though she remembers fully well what he was referencing.  “You meant that too?”

She swallows thickly.  The intensity of his eyes on hers was too much to bear, she could almost crumple to a heap on the ground, but her body is rigid, firmly planted before him by the pad of his thumb under her chin.

“No,” The word comes out in a whisper so soft Megumi wouldn’t have caught it had he not watched it fall from her lips.  “No, I didn’t mean that”

A smile twitched on his lips, and he could see her hands fidgeting again.  Just as he thought, he beamed as he met her eyes again, she felt it, too.

“What did you mean to say, then?” He asks the question that’s been lingering on his mind like poison being held in the back of his throat.

Her eyes wander to his lips as she realizes he’s been moving in impossibly closer.  She’s hoping, no, she’s sure he’s going to kiss her, but he wants his answer first.  Rightfully so, she supposes he’s been waiting to hear it, and if she was honest she was dying to get it off her chest.  But the prospect of so blatantly telling someone how you feel has her shifting her weight nervously.

“I meant…” She mumbles, snapping her eyes up to his when she thinks she’s stared at his lips for too long.  “I meant I have thought about… something more…” Her voice raises and drops in volume as she makes her confession weakly.  It’s certainly not a bold, romantic movie moment, like she always thought she’d have some day.  It’s timid, quiet, and a bit awkward on her end.  She clears her throat.  “But they didn’t need to know that” She says, a small giggle escaping her.

“No, ‘spose not” Megumi’s lips curled into a smile that had her nerves settling, comfortable again in his presence.  Although she’s sure she could never be truly uncomfortable with him.

“So… spying on your friends these days, hm?” (y/n) asks, tilting her head at him curiously.  She means for her tone to be playful, but it comes out in a whispery soft.  “That’s a bit out of character for you, Megumi”

Despite his warm face and stuttering heartbeat- he might need to go to Shoko, the irregular pace was becoming a concern- Megumi chuckles at her, and his smile doesn’t falter.

“When else was I gonna get to hear you say all that nice stuff about me?” He hums, effectively burning up her cheeks as well.  His thumb traces gently over her chin, his eyes following the movement fondly before meeting hers again.

Megumi had never really been a touchy person.  (y/n) could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s ever touched her, and the first three instances that pop up in her mind revolve around him rescuing her ass when she was being reckless on an assignment.

“I liked the part where you said I was a gentleman,” He beamed a little brighter, and (y/n) had to grind her teeth into the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.  “But for the record,” He moves closer, and her eyes grow so round as she stares at him that they almost burn from her lack of blinking.  “I’m lucky to have you, too,” 

Her jaw loosens and her teeth no longer have a grip on her cheek, allowing for a sweet smile to stretch across her lips as she takes in the fond words.

Just as she thought.  He was the warmest person she knew.

“And,” He continued, his eyes moving between hers as he took in how pretty she looked when she was in a state of surprise, “You are my favorite” 

She laughs again, breathless and quiet before she rolls her eyes with nothing but fondness.

“I know,” She murmurs, narrowing her eyes in mock annoyance.  The smile on her lips was too sweet for him to think she was giving him anything other than her entire heart on a platter.  “Must be a side effect of your staring problem”

He tilts his head down, simultaneously lifting her jaw with a tender pull of his thumb, but just as his nose brushes over hers, he seems to remember his manners, and he can’t have her go thinking he’d dropped the gentlemanly side of him she seemed to appreciate so much.

“Can I?” He murmurs, his lashes rising and falling as his eyes travel between her gaze and her lips.  “Kiss you?” He clarifies.

And she almost laughs.  She wants to giggle and grab him by the shirt and smash her lips against his in a feverish, passionate kiss.  But her breath is caught in her throat, she can’t quite find her voice, and her fingers seem to have magnets clinging them together because she’s frozen before him.

So all she can do is shut her eyes and give the faintest nod of her head, barely pursing her lips before his are pressing against them.

Every muscle in her body relaxes as she’s flooded with warmth.  Her posture loosens up and even her hands pry apart as she finally finds the strength to lift them, setting them gently on his shoulders.  

His lips are surprisingly soft, even when she presses closer and kisses him deeper, they feel nothing but tender.  She feels light headed from how sweetly he kisses her, his free hand, the one that isn’t holding his book, splays across her cheek.  The tip of his index finger barely ghosts along her earlobe, before tracing down her jaw, and back up again.

She was damn near about to raise her foot like the girls in the movies do when they’re swooning over their true love’s kiss.  That shit was no joke.

When they part, she’s smiling at him again, and he’s mirroring her expression.  It takes her a minute to will herself to open her eyes, and her hesitation makes Megumi chuckle.

“Next time, I’ll let ‘em know you’re a good kisser, too” She mumbles, in a bit of a daze, as he could tell.

“Oh will you?” He teases quietly.

She nods, leaning her cheek into the comfort of his palm.  Her cheeks flush before she crinkles her nose, second guessing her previous statement.

“Well, maybe not right away” She mumbles, and he chuckles at her.  

The apples of his cheeks are bright, his smile is toothy, and his eyes sparkle with every lovely feeling humanly possibly, all held for her.

“Maybe not right away” He agrees in a soft voice, before tilting forward again, his thumb swiping gingerly across her cheekbone.  

She swears she could melt into the way his low voice comes out in a whispered husk against her lips.  Her eyes are already fluttering shut again.  His lips brush over hers sweetly, gently, as though for the first time.  She returns the tenderness, her fingers reaching up and ghosting along his sharp jaw, twitching with anticipation to touch more.  The desire to grab him by the face and crash their lips together is still a thought in the back of her mind, but she sets it aside for now.  She thinks he’ll make the time for her to do so later.

And suddenly Megumi believes her.  He believes all the kind things she’d said when coming to defense.  He believes he is warm, and he is caring.  But he only believes it because she made him so.  He thinks he’ll have to tell her, at some point, but it could wait for another time.  They were bound to have time ahead of him where he could spend hours on end returning the favor, and sing her praises until his face is blue and hers is pink. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[sigmasoyboy]

[On the exploration of homo-sapiens' obsession with vaginal intercourse.]

A short drabble I wrote about Coeus' disappointing first time (bad enough not to try again for almost 20 years lol). It finishes a bit abruptly but I do like most of it enough to share.

cw: body dysmorphia, overly medical language, explicit description of bad sex, kinda cringe superiority complex

He squeezed his nearly non-existent breasts, nascent mounds looking almost out of place on a body stripped of every last gram of baby fat; sharp bones jutting from taut looking-skin as if it was simply pulled over the frame of his skeleton. No hips, no ass, only the ever so slight amount of fatty tissue under his navel could hint at the sex he was thrusted into; nature trying her best to shield what society deemed to be the fair gender’s most valuable asset. She had yet to lose against him then, his distaste for everything brought by a simple assessment at birth over some parts failling to migrate or develops not yet linked to his biology; the discomfort with having his pitiful chest fondled like this simply chalked up to a shame he didn’t really feel about their size. Surely, the gesture would feel less silly, less thoughtlessly pornographic had they been bigger, even though he had never wished so before despite being likened to an ironing board a few time as an attempt to rouse something -humor, or perhaps inferiority- out of the cold, flippant teenager who had joined the university. No worries, surely they’d come in, had they say as if to wash themselves of any eventual hurt they might have caused with this teasing remarks, as if it wasn’t the reason they were cast in the first place. To humble him, shoot this bratty little girl down a peg.

He hoped they didn’t. He had started bleeding long ago, though infrequently: surely his body would not go through a sudden spurt and finally give him the womanly figure expected of his chromosomes.

If it was going to, it hadn’t decided to kick in as he dipped his toes into his twenties, finding them no different from his adolescence save from a newfound curiosity that arose with older colleagues talking amongst them, looking almost startled when remembering his presence in the lab. Apologetic. Embarrassed. As if, despite his now long gangly limbs, he remained a teenage girl, not to be spoilt by crude topics; enough for a few to reject him, perhaps finding in the age difference a good excuse to avoid fucking the ugly chick. He was no stranger to the idea that he was far from the feminine ideal of beauty, with the beak-like nose standing in the middle of his gaunt face, framed by a wild, unbrushed mess of hair that had been seldom cut in his life. His older sister made sure he knew, admitting defeat early as he was, in her own words, a lost case. He had no hint of elegance, no wish to please and appease those around him and not even much interest in personal hygiene.

It’s also possible that his propositioning was at fault for the awkward refusals. Even the one who was attempting, still, to find something to grab on his chest, had shuddered at his request; not one of arousal, but more a full body cringe at the blunt, cold wording. In spite of the subject, there was nothing exciting in the language he had used, his nonchalance tasting more of ennui than of a casual, no fuss attitude towards sex: his virginity held no sex-appeal offered this way, not even with the burden of silly feelings that some men seemed so afraid might bloom behind his ribcage rendered null by the clear scientific curiosity itching to be relieved.

Perhaps men, even men of science, were more romantic than they thought. It seemed so in the way his partner for this experiment insisted kissing would help get in the mood, cheesily knitting his fingers in his before he inserted himself into him. Did his heart flutter when he reflexively squeezed his hand as his entire body fought the intrusion, hissing through teeth as he tried to do as he was told and relax in a shaky breath, assured that it would start feeling good soon in between whispers of how tight he was ? Oh he could feel it, painfully so, a startled sob managing to crawl it’s way out of his thinly pressed lips, his breath stolen by the pain tearing him in half. It was no lie that this had nothing to do with the scant fingers that had explored his insides before, finding a little discomfort at first too but easing in the strange if unfulfilling sensation, tentatively curling digits brushing a sensitive spot; the one he thought would bring him over the edge if only he didn’t have to split his focus on both his hands and the coiling feeling pooling into his guts. But it seemed like the appendage was ramming into him in all the wrong places, hitting the back of his cervix without ever grazing that spot. The more it went on, the more his mind tried wandering away from the pounding pain and the growing irritation of his tender flesh, sharpening his focus on every other detail. The squelching sound, the labored off-puttingly warm breath above him, the mingling of perspiration, uncomfortably wet skin on skin contact, the long strands of hair clinging everywhere trapped between his back and the rapidly moistening bedsheets, pulled ever so irritatingly with each thrust, that fucking hand still kneading the surplus of fatty tissue surrounding useless mammary glands and the rapidly cooling path of the tears that had spilled over, tickling his tragus, a mess of fluids and grunts and too many thoughts. He could not fathom that this was it, the thing that made society go round under all the pretense of virtue: even the pain had become a boring thud in the back on his mind, barely registered if not for the soreness of his clenched jaw.

He was spared putting an end to the experiment, something he had yet to ever do, the data put above all else, even suffering, even boredom, even disappointment. His volunteer stopped suddenly, quivery, a strange pitiful whine escaping him as his fingers dug into the pale skin of his breast, riding the very last wave of what must have been the famed big orgasm he was still waiting for; one that surely had to surpass any shaky climax he could ever bring himself to justify the rave around coitus. He was as relieved as he was confused to feel the offending member slip out of himself, condom ever so slightly stained pink quickly removed, tied and discarded into a tissue: that guy had always been a bit of a clean freak, even outside of the lab. He couldn’t understand how he justified the mess of bodily fluids integral to the act to his near germophobic obsession with cleanliness, so much so that when he laid back next to him, he couldn’t help his perplexity. “That’s it ?” was the offending statement, one that made the older man huff and lose his words for a minute, having not even regained his breath yet, before claiming that this was as good as it got, annoyance clearly souring his afterglow.

Despite this affirmation, the wound in his ego was deep enough for him to request a transfer almost as quickly as it took for the slightly bruised crescents to fade from his chest.

Proper scientific method would require more data before forming a conclusion, but he wasn’t keen on putting himself through this waste of time again; his leading hypothesis was that perhaps his higher intellect yet again barred him from finding enjoyment in something his lesser peers were infatuated with, his brain needing more stimulation than the average person and thus being better suited for quick relief to quench his needs when they arised. Perhaps his body was ill-shaped to accomodate for a phallus, a little mistake in his biological engineering, yet another natural rejection of his sex, born not to be penetrated or bear children but to pursue matters of the mind. Call it pelvic floor dysfunction or something else, he found no will to remedy his failing as a woman; if anything he leaned into it, getting rid of the puny, pointless breasts only a couple of year later, not regretting one second that they had been fondled by someone else only once, bar his surgeon’s much less displeasing palpation during his first appointment. The smooth expanse of his chest interrupted only by the still sore scar running across felt much less out of place, devoid of any superficial details. One step removed from the other mammals he failed to understand.

[steddieasitgoes]

i've got the best friend in this place (and i'm holding on)

happy birthday @withacapitalp I hope you have the best day ever and enjoy this little fic about Stobin being the best! Also partially written for Stobin Month hosted by @lavenderstobins The prompt for this one is 'Drive' wc: 1.6K+ | rated: G Read on ao3

Robin’s never been fond of her birthday.

Steve’s heard her rants enough times to know that she’d rather treat the day like any other and not think about how she’s made another trip around the sun, taking her one step closer to her ultimate demise. About how birthdays put unnecessary pressure on the birthday person and the guests and how no one is ever 100% satisfied with the day so why even bother to begin with?  And don’t even get her started on the birthday song tradition.

He gets it. More than most do.

But, he’s also not going to let his platonic with a capital P soulmate ignore her eighteenth birthday. Not when she’s lucky she even made it to eighteen and definitely not when she’s dragged him out on his own birthday just a few months ago refusing to let him wallow in his own birthday woes.

Robin’s more stubborn than Steve is though, so he’s had to get creative. He knows she hates surprises, but it’s the only way this plan of his is ever going to work. Besides, he knows she’s going to love it. Sure, she might grumble and panic a bit at first, but that’s just Robin being Robin at this point. He wouldn’t expect anything less.

In hindsight, he probably should have given her a bit more information about what he was planning besides asking her if she’d like to drive around with him today. Probably a lot more insight judging by the ratty-looking pajama pants and his threadbare Hawkins Swim team shirt she stole from his closet back in ’85 she’s wearing as she heaves herself into the passenger seat of the Beamer.

“That’s what you’re wearing for your birthday drive?”

Robin doesn’t even glance at what she’s wearing, shooting Steve with a confused look without a second of hesitation. “Uh, yeah? This is what I always wear on our drives.”

She’s not wrong. They do have a habit of piling into the Beamer in their worn pajamas just to drive around and get some much-needed fresh air. They’ll roll down the windows, let the music blast, and fantasize about where they’d go if they actually got the courage to up and leave Hawkins. It’s a habit that started to beat the nightmares after Starcourt and one they’ve kept up in the years since.

But that’s not what Steve has planned for today.

“But this isn’t a drive drive.”

Robin looks at him with raised eyebrows and that look she always gets when he’s saying words but she doesn’t know what they mean. A look that’s rare these days considering they can practically read each other’s mind. As if on cue, Robin’s expression changes as realization dawns on her.

She gasps before thrusting an accusatory finger in Steve’s direction. “This is a birthday thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s a birthday thing.”

“Steve!” Robin huffs, throwing her entire body back until her head thunks against the headrest an alarming rate. It’s a good thing she doesn’t have a history of concussions. “I told you I don’t want to do anything! You know I think birthdays are stupid.”

“And yet, you’ve dragged me out for every one of mine. M’just returning the favor.”

“That’s different!”

“It’s really not.” Shutting the ignition off, Steve twists in the driver’s seat until he’s facing Robin. She’s staring at him with half amusement and half seething rage. He can work with that. “Just trust me, okay? It’s nothing major but it does require you to not be in your pajamas.”

Robin studies him for a moment, appraising him from head to toe. If Steve knows her like he thinks he does, he knows she’s taking note of his own outfit to figure out what she needs to wear.

“Jeans and a nice shirt will be fine, Robs,” Steve reassures her.

Robin swallows and slowly nods her head. She grumbles something under her breath, too quiet for Steve to hear, before she reaches for the handle to let herself out.

“Oh, Robs!” Steve calls from the open window as she sulks her way to her house. “Please run a brush through your hair while you’re at it!”

Robin throws her middle finger up but it loses all its heat when she bursts into laughter. “I hate you!”

“You’ll thank me later!”

🥳 🥳 🥳

Robin starts to get antsy an hour into their drive, fiddling with the buttons on Steve’s radio at far too fast a speed for his old Beamer to keep up with. Without looking away from the road — Robin hates it when he’s not 100% paying attention — he swats her hand away and reaches behind her seat, hoisting a plastic bag onto the center console.

“What’s that?”

“Provisions.”

“Provisions?” Robin snorts. “I think you’ve been hanging out with Dustin and Eddie too much.”

Steve’s grumbling is drowned out by the sound of Robin ruffling with the plastic bag. Each new snack she pulls out is met with an elated squeal — chocolates, chips, the weird peanut butter truffle thing that some candy store two towns oversell. He’s pulled out all the stops.

“You really do listen to me,” Robin marvels, holding up the truffle.

“Kind of hard not to. You do a lot of talking,” Steve teases.

🥳 🥳 🥳

Another hour passes before Steve finally merges off the highway and onto the streets of Indianapolis.

The roads are crowded, full of Sunday drivers milling about, enjoying the rare warm evening winter weather, or running errands before the stress of the week starts. Steve doesn’t mind though, if anything he’s grateful for the slower traffic since it keeps him from being honked at for not knowing exactly where he’s going.

Eddie had helped him map out the directions, scribbling them down on the back of an envelope from the water company. He pulls out the folded envelope from his pocket and glances at it while they’re waiting at a red light.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Robin asks, studying him as he squints at the paper.

“Yes,” Steve says, glancing at the directions again. “Maybe.”

“Better make myself comfortable,” Robin sighs. She tries to kick her feet up on the dash, but Steve’s quicker, throwing her legs down before her shoes even make contact. “Rude way to treat the birthday girl.”

“Oh please,” Steve snorts. “You’d be pissed if I gave you special treatment.”

Robin tips her head in agreement just as the light turns green. Steve takes a second to stash the envelope back in his pocket before he eases the car back into motion.

They drive for another few minutes before Steve makes the final turn, pulling onto a secluded street on the outskirts of the downtown area. He steals a quick glance at Robin, watching as her face goes through a range of emotions.

“Is this…” Robin trails off, practically smashing her face against the glass of the window. Steve doesn’t scold her for the marks she’s no doubt leaving, smiling instead as she marvels at the neon sign hanging above the cafe/club hybrid. The same sign they saw in one of the zines she smuggled from her aunt’s house a few months back.

“Yep.”

“Steve!” She gasps, turning slowly to look at him. Her eyes are brimming with tears, her lips slightly parted as she tries to keep her emotions at bay. “I can’t believe you do this. I could— I could kiss you right now.”

Steve snorts, breaking whatever moment they are about to have. “I don’t think the crowd inside there would appreciate that and neither would I.”

“Ew, gross!” She laughs, wrinkling her nose as she playfully slaps him. “I didn’t mean it literally obviously!”

“Hey, I had to keep those tears away somehow!” Steve teases. “Your face gets all red when you cry and you’d mess up your eyeliner. I don’t think you want to look like a wet raccoon on your first appearance at this place.

“That’s rich coming from the man who finds the wet raccoon look attractive.”

“Hey,” Steve says, finally turning the car off. “You leave Eddie out of this!”

“You said it, not me!” She throws her hands up in surrender for a moment before she glances back out the window toward their destination. She hesitates to reach for the door’s handle, letting her hands drop to her lap instead.

“Hey,” Steve calls, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. He gives her a reassuring squeeze before yanking her closer to him. “It’s going to be great okay. Let’s just go inside, check the place out. You don’t even have to talk to someone if you don’t want to! No pressure, right?”

“Right,” she breathes, running her hands over her face. She takes a deep breath. “I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit,” he says, clapping her back. “Besides you’ve faced off against Vecna. Lesbians can’t be scarier than that.”

“You’re a dingus,” Robin laughs.

Steve laughs too, feeling the tension deflate. He gives her another moment to soak in the moment before gently nudging her out of the car.

🥳 🥳 🥳

“I know I said I hate my birthday,” Robin says later when they’re back in the Beamer heading home. “But, uh, maybe we could make this a new tradition?”

Steve snorts, stealing a glance at his best friend. Her hair is a mess, her skin slightly dewy from all the dancing or rather flailing around she was doing, her lips slightly swollen, and she’s got the reminiscence of someone else’s red lipstick peppered across her face.

“I mean, it’s not where I’d choose to spend my birthday,” he says, earning a harsh shove in return. “But, yeah, okay. It can be our new Robin’s Birthday tradition.”

[be-my-ally]

The first meeting, and other firsts.

An Empty Promises chapter! Crossposted on ao3.

Fic 1 references events that are technically sandwiched between two sections of this one but the main events there take place after this, and on the phone comes after both.

So this series is a little like my baby… and I’ve had this half-written for ~ six weeks while I became distracted with literally everything else. It’s entirely self-indulgent - just finally giving some backstory to fic 1 and on the phone. I have two later smutty, shorts in the works too - because, honestly, Elvis just constantly wants to spank reader (who is a whole 5/6 years younger than me so is ABSOLUTELY not an author insert, no way…) and uh, I really don’t have a problem with that. 

pairing: fem!reader x elvis (1964-5)

warnings: 18+, slight innocence kink, little bit of daddy kink, oral (p + v receiving) ... elvis reads reader's diary.

wc: 11.6k

You’d noticed him hanging around the past couple of nights, although you’d done your best to ignore him. It was difficult. His characteristic pretty face and charm drawing you in. He’d barely been through the door when you’d recognised him. Recognition came and with it, the sudden spike of adrenaline and nerves that made you almost too anxious to acknowledge him. You’d barely just had the courage to wave hello the first time, pleased that he was seated far enough down the counter that he was Louise’s responsibility and not yours - you weren’t sure you’d have been able to get yourself together as quickly as she had. He’d stayed for a single cup of coffee, black - although the envious looks he’d given to the cream and sugar on the table made you suspect this was learned behaviour rather than a true preference, looking like perhaps he had just wanted a few private moments to himself, before leaving pretty quickly and quietly. You assumed that was the first and last time you’d get to see him up close. You’d lain awake that night, regretting everything, wondering what could have been - at the very least you could have had a signed napkin or something. He’d been right there, you’d been able to see the comb-marks in his hair, where the strands had been split, the tiniest hint of a lighter brown at his roots, you’d been able to see his eyelashes - fluttering in pleasure at the heat of his drink. You couldn’t deny you’d studied him, even if you hadn’t managed to bring yourself to talk to him. Somehow though it had worked to your advantage; it must have been part of the reason he came back so many times in the following week - that so little fuss was being made of him in your quiet little diner. 

The second time he’d come in with a group - all men, that had burst through the doors loudly; you’d looked up to frown at them for making such a racket when you’d noticed him in the middle of the crush. He’d looked up at you and you’d smiled shyly, your knees wobbling less this second time. You’d still had to take a deep breath before coming around to the two booths they’d squished themselves into, building yourself up for the faux nonchalant air you hoped you could give off. You’d managed to make it through their order without embarrassing yourself, although you know you blushed when you overheard one of them asking if they should “take out that pretty waitress?” You were the only one still working out front. But whoever had said it never materialised at the counter - and they’d left as raucously as they’d arrived not long after.  

The third time he was drawing attention to himself - not intentionally but he had come at a far busier time of the day than the strange hours he’d come in in the past and well, he was pretty conspicuous despite his clear efforts to look smaller. Still, he’d signed everything anyone thrust at him, and had seemingly happily chatted and flirted with the girls that flocked around him. You felt awkward that you had a desire to join the gaggle of girls surrounding him, embarrassed now that you’d seen him not once, not twice but three times, and never said a word directly to him, to go over and ask for something as trivial as his autograph. Louise had left a little over ten minutes ago though, and with her the other girls who had turned out to be her friends, and now he was alone and you could see his cup was empty. You took a deep breath before heading over with the coffee jug to offer him a refill. 

“Uh, would you, sorry - hello, would, could I - would you like another refill?” You tentatively manage to spit out, your hand shaking slightly. You pointedly don’t look directly at his face, staring at the cup on the table. He sounds amused when he replies; 

“That’s mighty kind of you honey, thanks.” You go to pour, immediately splashing some on the table - although thankfully not on him. Although that may have been more becuase of his quick reflexes shifting his legs quickly out of the way.

“Oh, no, oh - gosh, sorry, let me just grab a -”  You wipe it up with a napkin as you cringe, but when you start to walk away he grabs your wrist before it could leave the table. 

“Could you - stay a while? I’ve been trying to catch you alone.” It’s the first time you look at him properly, and your breath catches in your throat, he’s so pretty. It’s startling to see him up close in person, so used to seeing it through the glass of a television screen or inanimate on a record sleeve - to watch his face change, his nostrils move as he breathes, his hair shift as his head moves is as intimate a thing as you could think. As you study him you notice that maybe the difference is in the makeup; the ability to see his pores, or the softer hair, falling into his face but either way he looks younger than he usually does. But at the same time, more solid, less transient and three dimensional - you can’t imagine refusing him a thing, especially with his eyes staring into yours, so much bluer than they looked on the screen. You nod, and he gestures to the seat in front of him. 

“If - if someone comes in I’ll have to go - I can’t, I’m saving for college -” You look around nervously as you take the seat, but there’s just an elderly couple in the back corner booth and a workman on a stool - no-one who needed assistance or who hadn’t been served. He nods, agreeing, as if he could possibly understand the desire to keep a job out of necessity. So you sit there and talk. He’s polite, in that wonderfully southern way, but you can tell from the way his eyes glint, and the corners of his mouth turn that he’s also got a mischievous side that he’s trying to repress - that he’s trying to impress you somehow. It makes you squirm in the booth seat - how on earth could Elvis - Elvis who a few months ago was rumoured to be dating Ann-Margret be possibly trying to impress you? You don’t even know how he’s been managing to sneak around, be so on his own, how there’s not bodyguards and press. You’re a little town just outside of Memphis so it wasn’t like it was far for him to travel for a hint of anonymity, if that was what he was trying to achieve. But why he’s even in town at the moment is a mystery to you - shouldn’t he be off in Hollywood filming, or doing press? Why would a man of his age and position would even be interested in you. Sure, you’ve got enough self-awareness to know you’re okay looking - with enough make-up and your hair done you’re usually pretty satisfied; but you’re not California - not movie-star cute! Still, somehow he makes you forget your self-doubt when you’re lost watching his lips move as he talks. He looks you directly in the eyes, so hard that you’re always the first to look away, it’s difficult to handle the intensity of his gaze. But he’s chatty and kind, and doesn’t wholly monopolise the conversation - although you wouldn’t mind if he had; his life endlessly more entertaining than your own. So, despite your slight discomfort and nerves you sit there, and talk, and your celebrity crush rapidly blossoms into a real life crush right in your chest in real-time. 

A week later, you’re going mad - falling hard. Even though you berate yourself for it - for getting ahead of yourself, for falling so easily - for so many reasons. You’ve seen him twice more at the diner, and by sitting elsewhere from the other boys, and ensuring he speaks only to you, he’s made it pretty clear you were his main purpose in coming. You would regret the fact that he’s not been coming in everyday, cursing whatever kept him, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve spoken to him on the phone every night. Sometimes twice a day, often little inane chats that mean nothing, but somehow everything. 

You’ve never had a boy who talked to you like he did, like you were his friend. You wonder if you should find it weirder, that he likes this kind of talk, the kind of talk that you know how to do. You’ve always found boys so different - you’ve never known what to say to them. Found it awkward to know what to say without being accused of flirting, or alternatively being too aloof. But with him it’s easy - you chat about your days, he asks you what you’re wearing, what you’re thinking - he asks you about your friends, the daily dramas and who’s seeing who now; despite only knowing of them for such a short time he always seems interested in what you have to say. It’s novel in so many ways, to have someone care what you have to say, your parents were supportive but dismissive and you often felt on the fringes with your friends. Although you notice, but don’t think too much of it - his voice distraction enough, that whenever you try to bring up anything of a more serious nature, perhaps something you’d read in the paper he always tells you the same thing;

“That’s not for you to worry about darlin’.” So you don’t, in fact you stop worrying about a lot. He seems to be taking care of a lot of things for you.

He’s charming and handsome and flashy - famous, in a way that you struggle to wrap your head around. Wealthy in a way you can barely comprehend - he’s already sent you flowers and expensive dresses and had, just yesterday, palmed you a little box with a wonderfully thin, gold chain and heart pendant. Jewellery - jewellery for a girl he’s just met. And you know you’re getting ahead of yourself, you’ve only really known him a week or so but suddenly you find yourself hoping when he calls you doll, or baby or little girl that you’re his doll or baby, or that actually you’d be his girl. You know its too early and if she wasn’t already then your momma would be worried about you catching feelings this fast but you just can’t help it he’s just so, so… everything. 

You’re leaving work, slightly later than usual and you hurry across the dark parking lot towards the sidewalk that would lead you to the short walk home. But when you’re halfway across you suddenly notice that he’s waiting for you, leaning against his car. He’s dressed up in black on black, his hair slicked up and back, and he looks so sleek and suave and just plain attractive that your tummy flips when you see him. You do a double take, not expecting to see him stood there so casually and you rush over to him. He kisses you on the cheek in greeting, like an adult - which, you think, you are but it still felt like you were playing grown-up most of the time, and you can feel the blush rising on your cheeks where his lips had touched you. His light hold on your waist. It’s the first time he’d done anything quite so obviously romantic. He opens the door and gestures you in,

“Thought I’d take you out?” You agree easily, it’s not too late that you’ll be expected home and even if you were there was no way you’d turn down this chance. But as you sit down and he goes around the car the thought pops into your head that maybe he didn’t mean any of it romantically, after all, why would he want to take you out? You’re probably misinterpreting everything. You silently panic, until, as he starts to drive away he glances over and grins at you; one of those grins where he looks more boy-next-door than movie star, and reaches over to pick up your hand, holding it in his and placing them, entwined, on his thigh. It’s that exact moment, as you stare at your joined hands, that you know you’re ruined. You’d give him whatever he wanted if it meant he’d continue to grip your hand in his like that. That there’s no coming back from this now - even if he only means to play with you or toy with your feelings you’d allow him, that if he wanted you to be his girl at home, like you’d heard he’d had - or one of his easy girlfriends, you’d agree. You’d agree to whatever tiny scrap of attention he would bestow on you that might recapture the tummy-flipping excitement, the immense happiness of having his attention on you.

He takes you out for a simple dinner, you’re actually a little surprised, he’d assured you that your dress was fine (although you were thankful you’d changed out of your uniform) so you weren’t expecting too much, but you were still surprised it wasn’t anywhere fancy but just simple good food, that he’d clearly enjoyed with gusto and a Pepsi to wash it down with. But, as you’re growing to know and understand him a little better you’re starting to realise that often it’s the simple things that remind him of home that he likes the most - he’d almost cried at a slice of pie in the diner, saying it tasted just like one that his mother liked. And now, dinner over, you sit there in a dress he’d sent you only a day before, that you’d decided against saving for best when another had arrived the next day, slightly lost for words. What do you even have to say to him that could interest him? He teases you about this, clearly understanding or simply used to girls going silent around him;  

“What’s keepin’ you so quiet tonight? You just too busy thinking how cute I am?” He grins at you like a little boy, and you can’t help but return it. You relax, teasing him back, 

“No - just thinking about how I should shimmy out the window in the bathroom.” He looks shocked for a a second before breaking out into infectious laughter; clearly not expecting the response. When you both stop giggling he puts his hand on the table, palm up, and waits for you to put your hand in his. When you do, he clasps it tight, turning it over, and examining your hand - he tuts at the bitten nails, but flips it back over without mentioning them further. He holds onto you when he speaks next. 

“I want to make it really clear baby, in case I haven’t been so far. I don’t want you to misunderstand. I, -uh, I really think I could like you a lot, and I wanna get to know you more. I think I already do, doll, but I - I really think I’m already fallin’ for you a little. I’d like to do this again - take you out, and the like?” You hesitate he’s so overwhelmingly in a different world to you that you can’t imagine why he’s suggesting this - as much as you want to agree. You worry your lip as you think of what to say, his eyes boring into you. 

“You won’t… you won’t be ashamed to be seen out with me? I’m a waitress Elvis, and I’m not even in college yet - I’m not like those other girls, I’m not an actress or anything; and I don’t wanna be.” He shakes his head, 

“I’ve had them other girls honey, and I want you.” You look down at your still intertwined hands and you don’t know why you’re acting like you don’t know how you’re going to respond. 

“Sure Elvis, sure, we can - give getting to know each other a go.” You want to question him, ask him about the other girls you hear he has, hasn’t he brought that girl over from Germany? But you can’t bring yourself to mention it, slightly worried that it might remind him of something, make him rescind the offer.

He wordlessly picks up the check, leaving ample cash although he made you simultaneously frown and laugh at the absurdity of it all when he confesses that he had no idea how much he left and that he doesn’t usually carry his own cash so he has no idea how much anything costs anymore. He opens the door for you as you leave, keeping his hand on the small of your back the whole time, and asks 

“So what’dya say? Wanna come back with me - be my girl? Wanna take you home?” You stop, in the parking lot. That wasn’t quite what you’d discussed before. 

“You want me to be your girl El? You sure?” He nods, hurrying back to grip your hands in both of his, looking at you deep into your eyes, pleading with you.

“Want you to be all mine baby, want you to come back to Graceland with me, we can play house honey, we can - look, I just - I take care of what’s mine and I just want you… want to treat you real nice.  You won’t have to save or work anymore - you can, you can just do whatever you like.” It’s far more than you’d considered possible, but his blue eyes were so convincing and a tiny furrow forms in his brow that you just want to smooth out by any means possible. You almost don’t consider the implications of what he’s offering - far more than his girl, he’s offering you everything. 

“Well, ok then.” He pauses with his hand on your car door handle, still holding one of your hands, 

“Well, you don’t sound too enthus’astic ‘bout it.” He doesn’t sound pleased, and it causes butterflies to immediately form in your stomach worried that you’ve upset him - you’re desperate to reassure him - to please him again and you shake your head, 

“No, no, I am, I promise - it’s beyond my wildest dreams, but uh- it’s just, you’re gonna have to convince my daddy yet first. He still wants me to go ta college - you know, make a real woman of myself, and I don’t see how that fits.” He smiles with utter confidence; 

“Don’t-ya go worrying that little head of yours on that, I’ll deal with all that when it comes round to it.” He kisses your knuckles, before opening the door and pushing you in, walking around to the other side. You’d noticed before that he liked to touch you - it seemed to be his way, indiscriminately brushing his fingers over whatever he could reach. But now that you’d given him some form of permission his hand doesn’t leave your thigh the whole drive home, except for a moment when he catches your hand again, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss against your knuckles before bringing them together onto his thigh again. Much the same as the journey there.

You’ve never had this casual closeness with a boy before. Your tummy is flipping nervously the whole drive home - you can tell it’s entirely normal to him, and you don’t want to give off the impression that you aren’t also used to it. It feels grown-up, adult, in the same way that his kisses on your cheek hello make you feel mature despite your age. You don’t realise he can tell this, in the shifting of your legs beside him, the way that you hold his hand a little too tight. And you also can’t tell that he likes this, but he does. He pulls up, half a block away from your house. 

“Don’t want the neighbours peepin’ baby, or your Pa comin’ out here with a shotgun.” He offers as an explanation when you look over at him puzzled. You wonder what on earth for, when he’s leaning an arm over the back of the seat, and wrapping it around you, pulling you in closer. Your thigh starting to overlap his. He looks down at you, at your lips, and you look back at his, nervous all of a sudden. 

“Are you gonna, you gonna kiss me Elvis?” You whisper, nervously. He nods, 

“If,” he rubs his neck a little bashfully, “If that’s alright with you, honey, I sure would like to.” You rush out an agreement, curling into his hold. He presses a hand to cup your chin, fingers brushing your neck, and brings your heads closer together. He smiles when you’re close and you’re almost giddy with excitement - you still can’t believe you’re about to kiss Elvis, and you’re trying not to think too hard about it, or worry yourself, but he grasps hold of you, in complete control, and suddenly you’re utterly confident that the situation - that you are in safe hands. When your lips finally do touch it’s not like a kiss you’ve ever had before, although you’d only had two, but in comparison it’s not at all like the wet slimy kiss of Trevor or the tentative pecks of Bobby - it’s soft but unyielding and damp but not wet. It’s how you think it should feel, being kissed. You imagine it’s how champagne feels, the fizz building up in you. It makes you want to get up on the seat, kneel closer, as close as possible, it makes you feel alive. Your eyes close and you’re lost in the sensations as you contemplate who it is you are kissing, and consider how he got so good at it. He’s a gentleman, not forcing anything into or on you, just going with what you’re signalling. It makes you squirm in your seat against him, tingles being sent from your chest to your stomach. He leaves you chasing him, breathing heavily still and leaning across the front seat, when he pulls back. He presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth before leaning back again. You sit like that for a few minutes, his arm still wrapped around you, leaning against his chest. You would have expected your mind to be racing, but strangely you’re calm, and can’t think of much beyond how much you enjoyed that, how much you can’t wait to do it again. After a little while he shifts you slightly, although his arm remains wrapped around yours and he wordlessly puts the car back into drive, coasting down to to pull up to your house. He gets out when you arrive, rushing around to open your door for you, and you pretend to be calm about it but inside you’re screaming, “Oh god, he kisses like that and he’s still such a gentleman - such a nice boy.” He presses a kiss to your cheek before sending you off to the front door, 

“Next time I come through - I’ll come in baby, wanna see your little room, but for now I’ll call ya honey,” You nod, looking back at him sliding into the car again,

“You promise El?” He looks back at you through the open window, holding his fingers up in a scout salute,

“I swear it baby, I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” 

By the time you collapse into bed, your mind alight with the events of the evening, you still can’t quite believe it. You look around the room - trying to picture Elvis stood there, it’s difficult to picture him amongst your school awards still on the wall. Or laying on your bed - your stuffed animals dotted around. Still, you think as you snuggle down into your comforter, soon you won’t need to imagine - he’d promised you. 

——

It’s just barely a week later, and you’re having a rare few days off from the diner while they were closed for renovations - a fact you were particularly happy about when you received a phone call from Elvis letting you know he was ten minutes away and asking if you were alone. You had of course immediately agreed, although afterwards panicked in having such little time to prepare, thankful that your mother had gone to visit her sister today while your father was at work. 

You rush to open the door when you hear him knock, thankful that he’d rang ahead to warn you that he was passing by and that you’d had the small chance to tidy up a little, and freshen yourself up even if it was in a hurry. You couldn’t help but just stand there when you opened it, still in shock at seeing Elvis stood there on your doorstep - tight trousers and short sleeve blue shirt slightly open, looking like he’d just stepped off of a film set. He lets you gawp for a second, face filling with mirth before interjecting a moment later -

“Well…, aren’t ya gonna invite me in?” You stared, but nodded and you open the door all the way but before you can take a step back he was squeezing past you, apologising as he brushed against you as he walked in. You peer out of the door before you shut it tightly - trying to make sure no neighbours had been watching him come in, unaccompanied, into your house when they surely knew your parents would be out. When you turn around you catch him glancing around your entrance way, peering his head through the archways into the kitchen and living room and he nods approvingly, 

“Nice little place you got here doll.” You smile, pleased that he approves but also slightly embarrassed at his qualifier - you know it’s small, nothing special, your parents never had much money to spare although you were always treated well. 

“Oh well, I know it’s not like - like where you live but …” He interrupts you before you can go any further, shaking his head.

“Oh no, no, honey. You misunnerstand me - up til a couple’a years ago I’d dream about a lil house like this one - we never had much either.” 

You smile back at his bashful expression. “Oh well, then. Glad you like it!” You do a little curtsey, and then immediately inwardly cringe. Why on earth did you just bob like that. He smiles at you, as if you’ve somehow just endeared yourself to him further but then glances up at the stairs,

“So, uh, you gonna show me your room?” He nods his head at the stairs and you giggle back at him, teasing him. 

“My! How forward you are Mr Presley. Wanting to see a girl’s room before you’ve even taken her on a second date!” He winks at you, before taking the stairs two at a time, his forearms flexing as he grips the handrail. You’re not even wholly sure what is so attractive about it but you can’t resist simply watching the back of him, trousers and shirt tight on his skin, as he runs up.

“Yep! That’s me, now you gonna make me guess or you coming up too?” You laugh, following him up the stairs - suddenly nervous about its girlish decoration; you’re an adult (although admittedly, only just) but you take comfort in the familiarity of your childhood room, the same patch of stain from the nail varnish you spilt when you were thirteen, the marks on the doorjamb tracking your height, the familiar bed linen - a mismatched selection from all your major life stages, one pillowcase from a set when you were seven, another from when you were twelve, underneath your newest ‘grown-up’ set. The quilt your mother made you atop it all. You rush ahead of him to nervously lead him to the door and turn back to apologise about the childish decor only to flush, watching him inspect the wooden letters on your door - oh god, how embarrassing - you start to stutter out an explanation, 

“Oh gosh, they’ve been there so long I forget they’re there - I don’t know why we even bothered with them, there’s only one of …” but your apologies falter on your lips as you watch him trace them almost reverently.

“I like ‘em baby - ’s cute, lets everyone know where you are. Could have found your door all on my own.” He turns his attention back to you and the room and you watch him take it all in. He glances over at your bookshelves, school books still stacked in them, and over at your bed with the little painted daisies on the wooden frame, the pile of teddy bears at the foot. He sneaks a peek over at your dresser and you follow his eyes where you see a scrap of white hanging half out of the drawer, your own eyes widen and you rush to close it with faux nonchalance from a knock with your hip. 

He smirks watching you, but ignores it and you watch him go to take a closer look at your desk. You perch on the bed, waiting for him to have looked his fill and turn his attention from the room to you, but he’s distracted by something on your desk. He picks up a leaf of writing paper from where you’d left it out - to dry - your daddy won’t buy you the fancy paper with the designs already on it just to send to your friends who live right around the corner so you paint them on yourself; little trailing leaves and flowers on the borders. You freeze as he stares, examining your doodles with a little furrow in his brow - he can’t possibly remember. 

“Say…doll, haven’t I received a letter like this?” Surely not. You had hoped when you’d sent it he would read them but you hadn’t really expected him to - fully assuming most fan letters would be tossed out pretty much as soon as they were received. You certainly never would have expected him to remember a letter that if you remember rightly yourself was sent over a year ago. You stutter out a response, 

“Oh, oh, no, no. I think you must be mistaken, no, no I would nev-“ He interrupts you, completely ignoring your protestations. 

“Yeah, yeah I remember, wasn’t it something like,” He puts on a high-pitched voice in an attempt at imitating you, “My mama won’t let me play your records anymore, says you’re a … what was it, a bad influence maybe?” He shrugs,  “Seems to be most of the time anyway.” He laughs and then continues, gesturing with his hands, pacing in front of you “ ’S all coming back to me now, didn’t it go ‘but, when they leave I always put you back on the player, I just can’t help myself - your voice makes me feel things, I tingle.’ ”He returns to his normal voice again, “Weren’t it somethin’ like that?” You cringe away from his laughing eyes, you can only think to protest it but you know as soon as you open your mouth you’ll give it away but you try to do the best you can, 

“Wow - I don’t think that was me, but do you really remember so many?”  He laughs at your attempt, shaking his head. 

“Yeah honey, I remember all the real cute ones doll. especially ones that say ‘sometimes I touch myself and think of you!’ Lord! What would your mama think of that!” You squirm, mortified. 

“Oh no, no I really think you must be mistaken!” He smirks at you. Putting the sheet of paper back down - he stalks towards you and crowds you on the bed. You lean back and he follows, placing his body almost entirely over you, forcing you to lie almost completely back. You think he’s about to kiss you and your eyes fall shut in anticipation only to feel him move away a moment later - the pillow moving behind you causing your head to slip lower. 

“Well - let’s see shall we?” You blink your eyes open and they immediately widen as you see what he’s holding - the diary from under your pillow. You sit up, reaching out for it. 

“Oh no! Elvis! No - no, give it back!” He holds it above your head laughing as he pushes you back, keeping it out of your arms reach the whole time. 

“Oh, no, no no.” He’s laughing at your struggles, “Gotta check my sources! See if you’re lyin’ to me little girl. One of these days you girls will find a different hiding place, gotta make the most of it.” He manages to grab hold of your wrist holding it across your body, catching the other between the two of you - pinning you against him - his chest on your back, and holding you with ease. He flicks the book open as you cringe against him. As if it couldn’t get any worse it immediately opens to a page addressed not, as you normally did, to ‘dear diary’ but to one of a few that you’d written ‘dear Elvis,’ across the top. You moan as you can feel the delight radiating off of him. 

“Now then - looks like we won’t have to search very hard! Ooh hoo hoo!” he crows at you - “Oh my!” he fakes outrage, humming as he reads the page - you hope against hope it’s the one where you explain that you’d snuck out to see a film of his your mother had banned you from, and not a different particularly memorable entry. 

“No way! Elvis - this ain’t funny no more! You gotta, gotta let go of me. Give me the damn book back!” He laughs at you, 

“Now, now don’t you be getting too big for your britches little girl, I ain’t afraid to soap that mouth out.” He tickles your side and you giggle, although you feel a sudden surge of heat run through you, as you finally manage to break free. “No, no, where’dya think you’re going.” He sits on the bed patting his thigh and grabbing your wrist again pulling you around. “Back here on daddy’s knee, gonna read you a little story.” You squirm, but nonetheless sit where you’re told. You can’t deny, despite your mild embarrassment, that you’re enjoying yourself. 

“Now it goes something like this - ‘Dear Elvis, Today was a rough day at school, Susie and Bryce started going steady and she told me she let him touch her in his car last night! Even though she knows I liked Bryce last year!’ I never will understand why girls get so caught up in liking someone who someone else once liked - why does it matter? Anyway, ‘I worry sometimes that I’ll never find someone who wants to go steady with me. I’m just not pretty enough, or tall enough. Or maybe it’s just because everyone knows I’m going to college.’” 

You cringe at his reading out of your inane chatter, and you’re pleased when he hums and seems to be skipping along the page - hoping against hope he was growing bored. But you can feel his sudden smugness, and you just know that written on the page is not a story about you sneaking out to go and see Viva Las Vegas. 

“Oooh, here’s where it gets good little, ‘This evening I went around to Natalie’s place - her parents were out, and she put on your new single, she was trying to convince me that the Beatles were so much better, but I think we’re just gonna have to disagree - they’re not even attractive.’ Well darling, at least I’ve got that going for me.” He laughs. “ ‘The thing is though, on the single there’s another song that I’ve heard before, but I don’t think I’d noticed the end -  you make all these noises and I don’t really understand what happened but after I got home my panties were so damp through that I had to change them! Just from your voice!’ You start to squirm again, knowing what he’s about to read, 

“Elvis - I really think, this is enough now - this is private, I don’t -” He just talks louder over you though, 

“ ‘I’m still really wet, in fact, but that’s probably more to do with the fact that I couldn’t help but touch myself. Even though I heard the pastor say it’s a sin.’”  His voice is dipping lower as he talks and his hand is brushing your upper thigh close to where you can feel the heat rising from within you, both from a hint of shame but mostly from arousal. His voice is deep and low in his chest and it hits you while you sit there that you’re on Elvis’ lap which makes you squirm all by itself. 

He hushes you, “Shh, darling, not done yet, hold still.” And he holds you by his grip on your waist, fingertips gently stroking your side. You can feel his own heat burning against your leg, and you suddenly realise that’s his penis. A man’s cock growing against your own warm heat. You’re not as innocent as you were in that entry a year ago, but you’re not experienced yourself at all and pretty much all of your knowledge is secondhand from your girlfriend’s and their older sisters. You wriggle again, “Now, now let me finish.” He coughs dramatically, flicking the pages out as you whine. 

“ ‘Sometimes I touch myself and I slip a finger in, I know I’m not supposed to but I just can’t help myself just thinking of you - of what you could do to me, god I’d do anything to be touched by you, just once.’ ” He skims the rest of the page, and softly closes the book, “Well baby, how does it feel to be touched by me?” His hands rub up your thighs and your eyes slip closed in pleasure as he watches your reaction, nudging them so far up that he’s almost brushing your panties. Your tummy flips, almost on the verge of being nauseous, as you try to catalogue the feelings. He removes his hands and you open your eyes catching your breath, but then he’s leaning back and pulling you down with him. He kisses you, in a way that you’ve never been kissed before, all tongue and teeth.

Then, he starts to kiss down your neck. You’ve never thought of any part of you as super sensitive but suddenly it feels like all your nerve endings are alight, feeling sparks as his lips trail down to your collarbone. You wiggle against him, feeling his large hand span across your back, fingertips pressing in as you push closer to where his leg has slipped between yours. Unable to stop yourself grinding against him a little bit. Your dress catches slightly and it means that for a brief moment the only thing between your warm wetness and his trouser leg are your thin cotton panties and you can feel the rough fabric rub against you, an involuntary moan escaping you. 

 “Baby, you gettin’ that feelin’ again?” You nod frantically, and he laughs - “Well,” he looks over at the alarm clock on your bedside table, “I don’t reckon we’ve got time to do anything about it now - not got time for you to finish -  not before your parents get home.” You stare at him, blinking owlishly, you know, you know how babies are made, you’re not stupid, know that men can do things about it but - 

“What…What do you mean? You can…do things about it? I can… finish?” He groans, his head falling back against the pillows. 

“Oh!” He groans again, “Lord help me - yeah baby, yeah you can - can make you feel real good; you never? When you told me you touched yourself - it never felt… better?” You shake your head at him, 

“I never got very far - didn’t have a clue what I should be doing and it made me awful hot and sweaty, and and it felt terribly tight and I wasn’t sure if I was meant to be and my parents are only the other side of this wall.” He moans so hard it’s almost a keen, swearing; 

“Oh God. Oh goddamn. I swear, we haven’t got time now, really don’t have time but I’ll see you real soon, come back over when your mama and papa are home, gotta few things to discuss with them, then when I’ve got you all to myself I’ll teach you. Show you how you do it.” You immediately brighten up, forgetting your embarrassment in your excitement. 

“Oh would you! I thought there must be something to it, but maybe it was just - just something some people did and some didn’t. ” You lean back down, catching his lips again. But then you pause suddenly, your insides twisting for a different reason, “Um, but Elvis, I don’t - don’t want you to get uh expectations or be dis’pointed, I’m not, not sure if I’m - I’m not sure I’m ready for, for sex. I’m not, not sure I wanna before, before I get hitched.” He looks in your eyes for a second before nodding, 

“No darling, I know. Don’t you worry about it, that’s good, little one, you’re such a good girl for me - just gonna wait until the time is right huh, daddy’ll know when that is sweetheart, don’t you worry about that at all.” You can tell, looking straight into his eyes, that he’s being sincere and something in you relaxes. He pulls you back in for a slightly more chaste kiss, moving his thigh just enough to resettle the pressure and cause you to rut against him again. He lets you rub against him again for a moment before sitting up and pulling away. 

“Now baby,” he starts with a plea in his voice, “how’s about you let me have a little somethin’ - just to …uh tide me over in the meanwhile?” You furrow your brow, unsure what you have to offer him, 

“Well sure, maybe, I mean I don’t have -“ He jumps in before you can say anything else, interrupting you and talking fast like he’d been planning his moment on when to ask for this thing - like it was something he’d been thinking a while. Like a child sat on Santa’s knee, desperate to convey their desires. 

“Could I have whatever it was peeking out of your drawer earlier?” You flush bright red from the chest up, surely he knows - 

“Elvis! Those - those were my, my panties!” He grins wolfishly, mischievously at you, 

“Well I know that doll, why’d you think I want ‘em?” You stand up to go and get them, although you still can’t imagine why on earth he’d want them. 

“Here ya are - they’re not. Not special or nothing - but sure. I suppose.” He glows at you, and you’re still embarrassed but can’t help beaming back at him, watching him tuck them securely in his pant pocket. He stands up, looking over at the clock again. 

“Really gotta go now honey,” You nod back at him a little sadly and start to head down the stairs with him. At the threshold to the front door he pushes a hand against it, preventing you from opening it for a moment and instead curls a hand around your waist, pulling you towards him again. You look up at him biting your lip a little, he pulls it from your mouth and keeps a hold of it with two fingers, 

“You behave now ’til I see you again, alright baby?” He looks sternly at you, but his eyes are bright, playful, and although you can’t even imagine what he thinks counts as misbehaviour nor how on earth he would know anyhow but still you nod; 

“Of course!” He leans down to you - far more chastely than before, just a simple press of his lips on yours.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” You nod again, and he leaves. You breath a sigh of relief as you close the door behind him, watching him hop into his, oh gosh, wow, totally inconspicuous, bright Cadillac all you can think is god, you can’t wait to put this in your diary. 

——

The night you moved into Graceland was nerve-wracking. It had been scary enough to be introduced to his father, to his grandmother, but you were also terrified for other reasons. You knew that he hadn’t pressured you before but surely he’d want something in return for having you in his house. For keeping you. But you were wrong again. You’d gone to bed that night, anxiously peering at his ludicrously decorated bedroom when he’d led you in, and he’d tucked you in and pulled you into his arms with nothing more than a chaste kiss on the forehead. Since that first day, he touches you all the time, so physically affectionate that even though you knew it was genuine it felt like he was going out of his way for some reason. Just so that he might brush against you, or have to place his hands on your waist and move you. Anywhere you were sat, he or you would be practically on top of the other, his hand on your thigh or your hand being placed on his. He holds you, all night long, and it’s only the second night when you anxiously kiss him, desperate to at least make-out like you had been doing back home. He allows it, but pushes you away when you reach for anything further, tucking your hands into one of his and pulling you close, lulling you to sleep with your head close to his heartbeat. 

The end of that first week was memorable for several reasons. The first, and the cause for the rest of them, was that he’d thrown the first party since you’d been at Graceland. You’d enjoyed yourself immensely - getting dressed up with him - he’d even helped you with your makeup, steady hand tracing your eyeliner. And the night itself had been magical, stuck by his side as he effectively showed you off - dancing together and meeting his friends. He’d been roped into singing and his clear enjoyment of the night had only increased your own. The second reason you found it memorable was that before the party you’d opened the wardrobe in your room and discovered an entire rail of new dresses, all perfectly sized to your exact measurements and style. The third was Elvis slightly tipsy (despite him not allowing you to have more than a sip) or perhaps just high off a good night, clutching you to him, your back to his chest and whispering in your ear; 

“You just gotta, gotta say no if you don’t wanna, darling. Not gonna push you - ‘m not like that I promise.” He punctuated his point with a hand rubbing over your stomach, gently, soothingly. You’d stilled at his words, and he’d followed it up with, “Wanna…go upstairs? Let me teach you a few things?” You’d paused in your turning around, and he’d moved his head closer to yours, his lips practically touching your ears. He’d kissed the patch of skin just below as he’d continued; “Be my good girl? Let me show you how?” He’d brushed his other hand down your arm, gently, and you’d been pulling away and up the stairs before he could say goodnight to the others. 

Which took you to now, stood in the middle of the bedroom, uncertain really as to what you should be doing. Should you get undressed? Take off your shoes at least? A moment later he’s entering himself, and shuts the door behind himself before striding over to you, capturing your mouth with his. His hands brush against you, but seem to gently hover, and it’s not until you make a little whine does he press them against you, holding you close with a hand on your back, the other coming to cup your cheek and chin. His tongue slips into yours, and you moan as you come up onto your tiptoes, desperate to stay as close to him as possible. He bends further, kissing your cheek and down your neck, sucking down when he reaches your exposed collarbone. You lean into him even further and he wraps both arms around your middle lifting you up, and carrying you over to the bed, even as his head was still buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the skin rising, burning and stinging as he bites down, leaving a purple bruise where he had been, feel his soft, gentle tongue lapping at it and easing the sting as you let out tiny noises of pain and pleasure. 

He puts you down, laying you back, and one of his hands comes around to your waist, stroking across your stomach. It feels like his fingers are burning through your dress, and his fingers - though slender and delicate when you see them on a steering wheel or holding one of his cigarillos, feel huge and heavy as they span your tummy. He kisses you again and you arch into him, and when he pulls back his lips are wet and redder than usual, plump and pillowy soft. Yours feel bitten and sore, tender in the best way. He sits up, pulling his hand out from underneath you, and you gaze up at him. He groans as he looks back at you, 

“Oh lord, sweetheart, don’t look at me like that.” You raise onto your elbows, 

“Like what?” He doesn’t reply, but looks away and takes a breath, when he turns back to you his eyes are bright with playfulness.

“Right, dolly, time to let daddy play with you,” You don’t know why that flips your tummy, if it’s his use of ‘daddy’ in this context, or ‘play’ or even him calling you not just a doll, but a dolly. But it does. He pulls you up, and turns you, deft fingers unbuttoning the back of your dress’ bodice as he does so, leaning down to press precious little kisses - no more than gentle touches of his lips - down your back when he exposes each tiny sliver of skin. He reaches the skirt, unhooking the button and lowering the zip at the waistband, allowing it to fall open and he eases the little straps off your shoulders. The dress falls to the floor, and you step out of it, you’re immediately self-conscious stood there in just your slip, in its almost sheer silkiness, but its not long before he’s hooking his fingers into the hem, and pulling it up and over your head. He stares for a moment, at you stand there in just your soft cotton bra and panties and you wrap an arm around your middle. He frowns, 

“Don’t, don’t hide from me. Just let me look at you.” You blink at him, lowering your arm although a blush rises up from your chest. 

“ ’S emnbarassin’ E,” He shakes his head at you, tsking as he does. 

“Nothing embarrassing about it baby, letting your daddy look at you like such a good girl.” He glances at your panties, staring for long enough that you shift a little, “I love white, you got more like that? Or do I hafta go out and buy you some more?” You wonder what’s going to happen to these, but you know that the majority of your underwear drawer looks the same. 

“No, no, they’re… most of ‘em are like this,” He groans, and has seemingly reached his limit for keeping his hands off of you, moving to touch your hips and run his fingers over your newly bared skin. Goosebumps break out as he touches you and you shiver at the contact. He pats your stomach, before running his hand down to the top of your waistband. He runs his fingers over it, gently, feeling where the fabric rests atop your soft springy curls, and then steps back again. He goes to strip off himself, having discarded his jacket somewhere downstairs - untucking his shirt and pulling it off. As his chest is revealed you can feel your face flaming again - as if it wasn’t already seriously red. He laughs when he looks over at you, 

“God baby, you can’t have any blood left in your body - ’sall in your little pink cheeks.”

 He throws the shirt to the chair in the corner of the room. He pushes his trousers down, confidently stepping out, he doesn’t kick them aside like you expected a boy might, instead bending, giving you a perfect view of his naked backside, to pick them up, folding them in half and slinging them over the same chair as his shirt. You feel free to ogle at him, considering he had done the same mere minutes before and you’re stuck wondering how people go about the day knowing this is what people looked like under their clothes. You never believed it would be something that you would find especially attractive, you knew men commented on women and girl’s behinds but you never thought it happened in reverse, didn’t think you’d suddenly be overcome with the urge to sink your teeth into the soft flesh there. 

When he turns around you can’t help but stare straight at his crotch. You’d seen one before, in your biology textbook and once in a magazine that Natalie’s brother had stolen from their father that you’d all crowded around and giggled at, although not for very long before you’d had to quickly replace it as you heard his father’s car on the driveway. But never had you seen one in real life. You’d felt one, through a boy’s pants as you’d sat on his lap at the diner, you’d felt Elvis’ in fact in much the same way, but even when he’d gently stroked you over your panties you’d never gone so far to touch him unclothed, or even through a fabric layer. You didn’t really know what to expect. But his cock was rosy and already stood a little to attention, where it didn’t seem nearly as intimidating as you’d always expected them to be. Somehow, even without having anything to compare it to you could just tell it was a pretty. You immediately reach out a curious hand, and as he steps towards you, looking amused, you wish you could stop the words tumbling out of your mouth; 

“Gosh - I’ve uh, I’ve never seen one in real life….” You try to stem your burning curiosity but you can’t stop yourself “What’s it feel like? Can I, can I touch it?” You pause, remembering your manners,  “Please?” He nods laughing and gets himself within reaching distance of you. He places his hand over yours, gently gripping them together, his palm on the top of your hand and guides it towards him. You’re surprised at how smooth it feels, you don’t know why, you didn’t expect it to feel so soft although it’s also a little wrinkly almost and  you’re slightly surprised because he seems to have more skin there than the guy in the magazine - it encases just below the head of his cock which is now popping out of the little folds. He lets go and your hand just rests there for a moment, before you squeeze a little, releasing and running your fingers gently over it. 

““El, that’s, it’s so soft.” He laughs at you, pupils dilating as he looks at your fingers dancing over him. 

“Not for much longer doll,” and he guides your fingers back to him. 

“That’s it baby, nice and gentle,” You continue to stroke him, briefly, before he’s putting his hand back down, pulling yours off, “Just need, sorry baby, I know this is dirty, but just need, a lil help here. You gonna wrap your hand around me?” You nod, confused as to why he’s turning your palm up, “Ok, honey, I just need a little, needs ta be a little wetter.” He looks you in the eyes, almost like he’s asking permission, for what though you don’t know - but clearly whatever he was looking for he found because he’s pulling your hand closer to his face. You’re stunned, mouth open, when he brings it to his mouth and licks it, a damp wet stripe being left, before pulling back and spitting straight into it. You recoil a little, but your thighs clench as your core jolts. You blink at him, still shocked, as he pulls you back to his cock, wrapping your now wet hand around him again. 

“Ok baby, that’s it, that it’s not too tight now baby, that’s it - oh, just there,” When you brush a thumb over the end of him he moans, so you do it again, and stroke just behind it. “Just a little tighter - oh lord - just make that yittle fist a little tighter darling, up and down now, oh that’s it.” You follow his instructions, and his hips jerk a little in response, you can see his stomach muscles under his soft layer of gentle fat clenching and tightening in pleasure. “God, what a clever girl you are. Learnin’ so fast.” You continue for a moment, until his cock is fully to attention, practically bobbing against his stomach. 

“You wanna, wanna say a proper hello to him? Gonna give him a little hello kiss? Go on baby, he’s waiting for you - say hello to little Elvis. He’s so excited to meet you.” And admittedly little Elvis bobs as if he’d overhead the conversation, and from the leaking from the tip he does look excited to meet you. So you obediently bend over to press a little kiss to his rosy pink head. He lets out a little groan, that seemed almost involuntary and he apologises as he pushes you onto your knees in front of him, 

“Not really right to do this to a girl - but uh, I suppose, if you’re my dolly, then… it’s fine right?” You don’t have any experience in what you’re about to do, but you’re not so sheltered that you don’t have any semblance of understanding of the act - and you have nothing against it, so you nod again, once again stunned momentarily silent by his surprising actions. You look up at him, from between his slightly spread legs - peering up at his tight chest and nipples, to his smooth, visible, neck to where his blue eyes are practically burning a hole into you. You swallow before trying to find your voice again; 

“It’s more than fine,” You pause for a moment before considering what he’d said earlier, “daddy.” He moans, his leg jiggling a little, and you watch as little Elvis twitches in response. 

“So you’re gonna be a good little girl now, right? Do as I tell you?” You nod, he exhales, slowly before starting to instruct you.“You can start by taking just the very end into your mouth, just hold it there for a second.” You do as he says, leaning forward with your mouth, and he sucks a breath in, loudly, as you brush your lips against his tip. You go to move down a little more, and he stops you with hand on your head, “Just, just give me a second, honey, gods, you feel so fucking good.” You still - “If you wanna, you can just, just reach down below, darling, gotta treat all of me nice - just - that’s it baby, nice and gentle with them little fingers.” He praises you as you reach around to fondle at his balls for the first time. He pushes a little further into your mouth, before pulling out most of the way - telling you now, 

“Need you to just, just lick me a little baby, no, no - keep it in your mouth, just move your tongue around a bit, oh lord, that’s it right there baby,” He makes a high-pitched whine that you can feel rush through your body from where you’re connected. He puts his other hand around to poke at your cheeks, “Look up at me, that’s it.” He moves his hand to pull yours from his thigh and wraps it around the base of his cock. “Go on, what you can’t get in your mouth you can keep touching.” A moment passes, and he’s telling you, “ Ok hollow your cheeks little one, gonna suck me in, then you’re gonna just relax and let me, let me just fuck that throat and mouth of yours.” You follow his instructions, and he grasps the back of your head to keep you bobbing on him at the exact pace he wants.

“Now, now baby, since its your first time, you haven’t, haven’t gotta swallow it if you don’t wanna - but you may as well have a little taste - don’t want, don’t want it going anywhere but down your little throat in future.”  He holds your neck, keeping you in place, as he thrusts into you - practically into your throat although he’s careful not to go too deep, but you still struggle to breathe a little. He grows slightly more erratic as he chases his pleasure and you’re glad when he pulls back so that just the head is still in your mouth, letting you take a deeper breath in. 

When he shouts, “Oh god, that’s a good baby, fuck, fuck doll, I’m cumming baby,” you’re able to just have the tip in your mouth - which makes it easier to hold his cum without choking on it. You taste a little before pulling back, holding it in your mouth, your tongue recoiling from the texture. He hands you a handkerchief, embroidered with E.P on the corner, telling you slightly huffily, “Ok, that’s it, just spit it out there.” You do, embarrassed at the unladylike behaviour, and he takes it from you looking at it with distaste as he balls it up and flings it in the direction of the ensuite. 

He looks down at you, “You did so good baby, such a quick learner aren’t you! So good!” You can’t help but squirm, your own arousal peaking with the butterflies in your belly again, pleased with yourself, but then slightly worried when he strokes your cheek, expression not as soft as before before starting to haul you up from your knees. Barely giving you time to stand before pushing you backwards onto his bed. “But next time, honey, I’m not havin’ you spit it out whenever wherever ok? So you’re just gonna have to learn to take what I give you.” You’re wide-eyed looking at him, you’re not entirely sure that’s something you want, but he does know best, and you’re desperate to please him so all you can do is nod and agree. 

“Uh-huh, of course, just - just gotta get used to it I guess daddy,” He hums back at you, pushing you to lie flat on your back. 

“Mmhmm. Ri-ght, ok, baby, your turn now, just lie back and let daddy take care of you.” He pauses, as if remembering something - “Daddy’s gonna get serious now, give you a real introduction - make you finish.” He smooths his hands down the sides of your chest and stomach, goosebumps forming as his fingertips trail down, until he reaches your thighs, where he pulls them up, so your knees are bent and your legs spread. He bends down, holding your thighs down and open, to press a kiss to the fabric separating his mouth and your body. He, laps at it, sucking at the material - the wet spot that was already there growing larger as he adds his damp spit. You wriggle about but he keeps you in place with one hand on a thigh, holding you open, and the other on your stomach, a solid weight pinning you in place. Your panties have gone practically see through by the time he leans back, looks down, and hooks two fingers into the waistband, pulling them down and off of your thighs. He looks at them for a moment, at the combination of his spit and your sticky wetness coating the other side before throwing them also in the direction of the chair. 

“They’re mine now too baby.” You shake your head at him - you’ll have no underwear left at this rate. 

“Elvis. You’ve already had a pair. I don’t know what you want them for anyway! Told you that last time!” 

“You’re mine aren’t you?” You nod, you’ve been moved into his house haven’t you? How much more obvious do you need to be? “Well then, they’re mine too.” You gape at him, you can’t really deny his slightly misguided logic - not without setting yourself up for failure. You go to protest again, but he hushes you, “Stop arguin’ with me, little girl, not gonna get you nowhere.” He pushes your thighs back apart, “I ain’t gonna start something I can’t finish,” and your final protest dies on your lips when he presses a kiss against your mound. He moves his lips down, gently placing another kiss at the top of your vulva. 

He licks a stripe down you, opening you up with his tongue, you can feel a gush of wetness at the act, and it seems that he could as well as you feel him smile against you before spearing his tongue a little way into you. He strokes your inner thighs, tickling the little fold where your legs meet your body. You shift to be able to look down at him. He’s been running his hands through his hair too much while you’d been getting him off that it’s no longer slicked up and back, but fluffy and gentle as you move your own hands to clutch at him. You pull gently, and he leans back just enough to look up at you through his dark, eyelashes at you. The sight makes you clench, and when your head goes backwards again, after he moves a finger to swirl around your clit, moving ever closer to the exact spot, you suddenly catch sight of the back of his head in the mirror on the wall opposite. You let out a noise you’d never heard yourself make before and you can’t take your eyes off of him. From the angle, you can’t see much below his shoulders - but it’s enough to send you, along with the physical stimulation, teetering towards the edge. When he finally, moves his finger to touch you directly your hips thrust up of their own accord, and you grind down on him when your body returns to the bed. His lips return to you, and he laughs as he reaches up to blindly pat at your face, he pulls back laughing - “Your lips cold baby? Or my hand hot?” You stutter out a response, really not certain of the relevance of the question, 

“I, I don’t know! But can you, Elvis I’m so close, daddy please.” He shakes his head smiling and returns to your pussy with renewed vigour - firmly licking you out and playing with you. You can’t think of anything but the sensations, of how slippery you are, of how wet and soft while simultaneously gently rough his tongue is. He shies away from slipping a finger in, simply teasing around your entrance - although this reticence isn’t shared with his tongue which continues to fuck into you at a rapid pace. 

You squirm, feeling suddenly desperate - although for what you didn’t know. He holds you right at the precipice for a moment, and you thrash, tense, until he resumes the exact same licking pattern as before, rubbing at your clit as he does and its like you’ve been released, shuddering and shouting out his name; 

“Oh god - Elvis, daddy, that’s - unnh-” Your words cut off into non-verbal noises, huffing out quick breaths and moans as your body quivers. He finally pulls away after you’ve gone stiff in the bed, letting your body relax back from its arched position as you struggle to catch your breath. He runs his fingers over your folds, “God you’re so wet baby,” you squirm, feeling it cool into a thin stickiness on your thighs. He kisses your thigh, spreading the wetness from his lips, whispering - “Such a good girl for me baby - you like that? Your first one?” You can’t do much more than nod in response as you tremble lying there but you manage to murmur out, 

“Yes, god, yes I liked it.” He hums at you, 

“Well go on then baby, say thank you to daddy. Don’t forget your manners now.” You gasp, heat flooding you again although you’re too tired to want to do anything about it. 

“…Tha-Thank you daddy.” He kisses the top of your mound in response and pats at you one last time, before he heaves himself up and leaves. When he comes back he’s dressed in a set of black silk satin pyjamas, carrying a little nightgown for you. He dresses you like you were the dolly he described before, manhandling you into the nightie. He rolls you off of the comforter, allowing him to pull the covers out so that he can clamber in underneath, cuddling you into him. He cocoons you in his arms, clutching at you, and you suddenly feel safe and secure after abruptly feeling unmoored. A tear slips out, for reasons that you’re not quite sure of, and he tuts, holding your head to his chest. It’s not long before you, listening to his steady heartbeat, fall fast sleep.

[marleysfinest]

deets: pre-chicago. no bumping uglies, just embarrassing yearning

c/w: food

w/c: 665

   “Please! You’re not even gonna try?!”   

Marley whinged in the same tone as a five-year-old as she waved the slice of toast in Reiner’s direction. It was taking everything she had not to let the laughter get the better of her and spray crumbs over him, although the sight was deeply amusing. At a truck stop just outside of Lincoln, Nebraska, the two had met outside of their respective buses to stretch their legs in the crisp morning air as Marley scoffed her breakfast of Marmite on toast. Reiner had taken one sniff and grimaced, almost physically recoiling. He wasn’t any more swayed once he’d been told just what it was she was eating.

   “No, I’m not!” he argued, ducking away as Marley thrust the bread towards him. He was adamant that he wouldn’t be persuaded, although Marley’s persistence could be convincing. He battled against the smile he could feel growing as she chased him around the deserted forecourt, determined not to let any weakness show. 

   “It’s brown and sticky and it stinks! Think for a minute about what you’re asking me to eat!”

   Marley wasn’t about to let up the chase, although she did slow her pace for a moment.

   “Reiner, I know for a fact you’ve put worse things than this in your mouth,” she teased, “c’mon, just take a bite.” 

   The blonde shook his head and laughed at her tactics, struggling to believe that she’d resort to foul play just for some yeast extract. They’d been playing this game of cat and mouse for a few minutes, but Marley was already a little out of breath, her stamina nowhere near that of Reiner’s. She knew that he could keep this up for far longer than she could, which just made her all the more determined. If she could just get close enough… 

   “The hell are you guys doing?” 

   Onyankopon’s voice pierced the quiet as he emerged from the Helos bus, one hand cradling his espresso and the other stuffed into the pocket of his pyjamas. He observed Marley and Reiner standing facing each other like cowboys about to duel, standing their ground as if their lives depended on it. Neither one turned to look at Ony, instead opting to keep their eye on their opponent to register their next move. 

   “Mar’s trying to get me to eat some gross British spread thing,” shouted Reiner, his eyes fixed on Marley. “She’s being pretty weird about it.”

   “It’s Marmite!” yelled Marley, hoping Ony’s British background would help her case. 

   “Oh, nah!” Ony grimaced, waving a hand as if to shoo her away, “Rei, don’t let her get near you with that shit!”

   Marley’s shoulders fell in defeat. Damn. I could’ve sworn he said he liked it before. 

   Two against one, Marley knew she was fighting a losing battle, but wasn’t prepared to give up. In one last attempt, she bolted towards Reiner, hand outstretched, hoping to catch him off guard with a more direct, aggressive approach. 

   She leapt at Reiner before he could run, although he’d spun enough so that she landed on his back. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he instinctively hooked his beneath her knees to stop her from falling as he stumbled across the parking lot. Reiner had nowhere left to run as Marley thrust the sticky slice of toast in his face, and with deep reluctance he succumbed to a bite. He slowed to a stop but his hold on Marley’s legs remained, as did her grip on him, as he chewed curiously. Suddenly he spun around, almost sending Marley flying, as he found Ony in the doorway to their bus.

   “It’s not bad!” he called, mouth still half-full, “she knows what she’s talkin’ about!” 

   Ony shook his head. 

   “You’ve changed, man,” he said defeatedly before lowering his voice to a whisper, “you really gotta be pussy drunk to be eating that…”

   “What?” called Reiner.

   “Nothing!” Ony answered, raising his espresso cup in a toast, “enjoy your grime!”

divider @/saradika

[seiwas]

Sel, hiiiiii 🤍 hope you're having a lovely day!

I was wondering more about col couple and i'm curious what do lovebirds do together in their day to day lives now that both of them can be at peace after everything that has happened? Do you think they'd have mini versions of themselves sometime in the future? (Ignore this if it's something uncomfy for you ^^)

Anyhow, i keep going back to re-read them over and over, it's just so captivating and my favourite thing yet so i love you so so much for creating this, you're also such a lovely individual here !! 🤍😭

tina darling!!! hiiii 🥹 i’m so touched that you’re re-reading omg??? 😭 pls i am sending u cookies and love mails!!! thank u so much for reading!! and u always say i’m a lovely person, but i hope u know that u are too!!! 😭 i hope you’re having the most beautiful day as well ❣️

i’m so touched that u’re thinking abt the col couple, they’re on my mind all the time too 🤧, thank u for asking this!!! 🥹

hmmm what do they do in their day-to-day now that everything’s more settled…

sorcerer work is still there, although a lot less!! and they handle a lot more on the admin side of things now (which i vaguely mention in the collection i think!)

satoru’s trying really hard to be a better partner 🥹 (whatever ‘better’ means, he’s just whipped!!! wants reader to feel all that he feels for em 🥹) & reader doesn’t ask for it, but he does all the cheesy things!! anniversary plans, those date ideas you can find on tiktok or ig reels, and he searches the top 10 romantic places for a picnic but forgets to check the forecast so it rains that day 🥹🤧😭

he tries to vlog some of it too!! for the ~~memories (and lowkey for the clout…) and posts it on his socials!! (yuuji leaves the sweetest comment and megumi gives a thumbs down 🤧) & it booms for a while but reader starts getting hate from like… 13 year olds… (he becomes a social media heartthrob unfortunately 😔) so he takes it down 😭 (and also—he sees comments on how hot reader is, some of them kind of… 😳, and he’s jealous so. nope. for his eyes only from now on!)

reader spends a lot more time w the students, or former students now, really & reader likes picking up new hobbies all the time!! trying out new things!! so there’s a rotation of the people that join in 🥺 (pottery with megumi, cooking with inumaki, yoga with yuuji (gojo joins in…. 👀🤨), dance with nobara 😭 and more!!!)

and!!! they move in together 🥺 officially 🥺 and his office is now theirs, also officially 🥹

would you all be interested in me writing more pieces on stuff like this for ‘conversations on love’? 😳

talks of children, kids, parenting, etc. under the cut

i don’t mind talking abt them having kids at all!! but thank you for being so thoughtful tina 🥺

i do love me a good papa!gojo 🥺 and i think reader would make such a loving parent too 🥺 so i can totally see it happening with them!! but!!! i don’t think it’s a priority, or something they actively think about/plan to happen 🥺

there’s definitely a lot of reluctancy with it (on both ends actually) —given that they’ve had a bit of experience with megumi and tsumiki despite being kinda thrust into it back then— they’d be more careful and conscious about it now, that if they do decide on mini-me’s, they want to be sure they can be present, in a world that’s safe and right to raise their own children 🥺

sorry this got so long!! but i hope i answered all your questions 🥹

@stellamancer tagging u here bc col couple is urs as much as they r mine 💘

[lightsout-andawaywego]

Maxiel Residency Match Day AU (778 words)

A/N: I am very new to both F1 Tumblr and F1 in general, but I’ve been in a massive writing slump and so when inspiration struck, I couldn’t ignore it. Hope someone finds this and enjoys it!

It doesn’t sink in that it’s really Match Day until Carlos and Lando are standing up there with their families, hand in hand, tearing their envelopes open with their teeth so they don’t have to let go of one another. They shake their envelopes off the life-changing slips of paper inside, then shake the papers again to unfold them.

Max sees the moment they realize they’re paired together, the way Carlos instantly leans over to kiss Lando’s curls and squeeze his waist, how Lando tears up and presses himself closer.

“I’m matched to neurology,” he says.

“I’m matched to cardiology,” Carlos adds, his hand slipping to Lando’s neck.

“And we’re going to Cedars Sinai in Los Angeles,” Lando finishes softly, in obvious relief. He stares at his match letter as his family and the rest of the fourth year med students cheer for him.

Even as Max feels happy for them his heart sinks. He and Daniel had been fighting when they’d applied for residency programs and they hadn’t aligned their choices at all, and they don’t - it shouldn’t matter. It’s not like Daniel will be standing up there with him to announce their matches proudly together. He won’t have anyone up there at all - some of his friends had offered, but he’d brushed them off. There would be a livestream and even though his father might not - probably wouldn’t - turn it on, the thought of exposing his friends to his father’s disparaging comments was too much to risk.

He watches as Charles, Pierre, Esteban, and Alex get their matches and their dreams come true, the unabashed joy in their eyes, the freedom with which they celebrate with their families. Pierre and Alex must see his nerves on his face, because they both reach over to pat his shoulder reassuringly as they return to their seats.

When Daniel’s name is called, Max’s heart drops all the way out of his body. It’s supposed to be day his dreams come true too, and instead he feels as though everything is slipping away from him.

Only Daniel’s sister is there with him but it doesn’t matter, his bright, beaming smile takes up the entire stage. Daniel opens his envelope upside down, just to be difficult, and the delay makes Max very nearly snap at him. When he sees his letter, his smile falters, just slightly.

“I’ve matched to pediatrics, holy fuck,” Daniel whispers into the microphone, and then quickly glances apologetically to his favorite professor in the front row. “I…I will be going to Boston for pediatrics at Tufts.”

Max stops breathing as Daniel receives his cheers. He could…if he got into…there’s a chance, however small, but it feels like far too much to hope.

From across the room, he sees Lando and Carlos whispering animatedly to each other; near them, Pierre is saying something to his mother and he swears that he points directly to him.

It feels like eons before Max’s turn is called, and he suddenly feels small without a support system. The light pointed at him feels suffocating, and when he pulls his envelope out, his hands are shaking. “Um, hold on, I…” he looks around desperately, suddenly completely positive that he cannot do this.

The room goes quiet. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Lando try to stand up, but Carlos shakes his head almost as quickly, tilting his head towards -

Daniel, standing in the middle of the aisle, trying his best to be invisible, smiling at him encouragingly. The look Max shoots at him must be appropriately terrified, because as soon as their eyes meet Daniel takes off toward him. When Daniel reaches the stage, Max mindlessly thrusts his envelope at him. He doesn’t take it, but he reaches his finger under the fold, tears it open, and holds out his match letter. Max stares at it blankly until Daniel’s hand brushes up on his back gently.

“Right,” he says into the microphone, cheeks red. With all the dexterity of a baby horse, he unfolds it, and his heart is clanging around again, no turning back now.

He feels Daniel’s hand jerk against him before he reads the bold words printed for himself. “I have been matched to anesthesiology at Harvard,” he says, breathless, the words just loud enough to carry over the sound system.

Absently, he hears his friends cheer for him, for them. “In Boston,” he says, just to Daniel, and Daniel’s smile is still taking up the whole stage, but it’s different, because this time it’s the one he only sees when Daniel is looking at him.

“Boston, Maxy,” Daniel grins, and Max throws himself into his arms.

[skyward-floored]

A piece of paper with most of a coffee ring on it reads in smudged writing: “One of the boys uses their power to quietly save a civilian?”

I had the hardest time picking which boy to do lol, but I finally wrote something out for this :)

———

Wind walked at the back of the group with Four beside him, the two looking around as they followed the rest of their family out of the shopping center.

Wind didn’t like shopping much. Especially since despite how his parents tried to hide it he knew money was a little tight. But several of them had needed new school supplies for the year, so here they were.

In the boring shopping center.

Wind sighed. At least they were finally finished and going home now. They’d been here for what felt like ages and he’d looked at way too many pairs of shoes. At least his parents seemed happy with what they’d got.

“If one more person says how cute we are I’m gonna scream,” Four said grumpily from next to him, and Wind giggled, then shrugged.

“I don’t know, I think it’s nice. At least if they’re staring at us they’re leaving Wild alone,” he pointed out. Somebody always asked their brother him what happened with his scars, and he hated that.

Four folded his arms. “Yeah... I guess. Still, I’m five! That’s too old to be cute,” he said crossly, blowing some hair out of his face.

Wind just shrugged. Four was a cute kid no matter how much it bothered him, but Wind didn’t want to argue with him over the point. For being only five, he sure was good at winning arguments.

He turned his attention to the parking lot then, dutifully sticking by his parents’ sides when they crossed the road. Four held Twilight’s hand, and Wind found his attention drawn to farther down the street, where a woman had just exited a different store.

She had a huge pile of shopping bags in her arms, barely balancing them all as she walked down the sidewalk, and if that wasn’t enough, she was also digging through her purse and barely watching where she was going.

Wind watched her, a little amused at her absentmindedness, then frowned as he realized she was headed straight for a street corner. And still not paying any attention to where she was going, despite the heavy traffic. Wind looked around for any way to make the woman look up, but she probably wouldn’t hear him if he yelled, and nobody else walking by her seemed to notice just how distracted she was.

Four tugged on his sleeve and pointed, having noticed her as well, and Wind nodded, still looking around for some way to help as the woman stepped onto the street. Nothing jumped out at him, and a car came barreling around the corner right towards the woman, definitely going too fast to stop in time.

Four gasped and Wind didn’t even glance around to make sure nobody was looking as he thrust his hands out.

A gust of wind rushed towards the woman and thre her and her bags forward, just barely getting her out of the way of the car.

The woman fell to the ground, bags spilling everywhere, and her face was shocked as she finally looked up and realized how close she’d just come to being hit by the car. A few people who’d seen what had happened helped her up and started to gather her bags, and Wind sighed in relief as the woman stood up, looking shaken, but unhurt.

That had been really close.

“Nice job,” Four whispered, and Wind returned the smile he gave him, glancing anxiously around the parking lot. There were a lot of people around, but he was pretty sure nobody had seen him.

At least, he really hoped so.

“Did anyone see me?” he asked his brother, still looking furtively around.

“Don’t think so. Nobody’s pointing at you or yelling anyway,” Four said as he also looked around. “Good thing too. Mom and dad would kill you if they’d seen.”

Wind sighed in relief, and he and Four caught up to the rest of their family as they put their bags into the back of their car. The woman was safe, nobody had seen him, and he hadn’t accidentally exposed himself and forced their family to move again.

Wind looked up as his father walked past him to the driver’s seat, then froze when he looked him directly in the eye, a stern look on his face.

Oh no, he’d seen!

But then Time gave him just a hint of a proud smile, and Wind relaxed, returning it with a smile of his own.

[whaleofatjme1920]

From Where the Land Meets the Sea - Prologue

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: There's some body horror in here.]

[AN: Here's the prologue to the book version of my silly quiz series I made on quotev. Check that out if you want. I've always wanted to make a full book version, and I hope to do that,,, well, now. So, here you go. 1523 words <;3 ]

Full Index

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Reblogs are appreciated!

Your mouth felt as if cotton had made its home inside it as you opened your eyes to the ceiling. They feel dry, much too dry. Pretty little colors danced behind your eyelids as you swiped the back of your hand across them to dust the sleep away. Red, purples, greens, yellows and even tinges of blues filled your vision for but a fraction of a moment before you opened your eyes once more to the world around you. As you smacked your lips, your hand reached around haphazardly for the bottle of water you kept on the nightstand. Under your palm as you gripped the plastic bottle, the water felt too warm, much like the temperature of your room. 

You unscrewed the top and slowly sat up to really get a look at your bedroom. You knew that you wouldn’t be away forever, but you’d never really spend that much time away from home before. You took a quick sip, pleased at how the liquid cooled your tongue and wet your mouth full of cotton, then placed it back down on the nightstand. Moonlight danced through the open window of your bedroom. It was bright with the slightest hue of blue and illuminated everything that you needed to see. Your room had grown up alongside you, interests shifting from one thing to another with ghosts of the things you loved lining the shelves - some tucked away in the closet, under the bed and in the backs of drawers you had no intent of exploring or letting see the light of day. 

Your body felt as if it was covered in sweat, a blanket in itself. With a small scowl, you threw the blankets off your lower half and sprawled out much like a starfish. You gazed upwards and began to count the small plastic stars that lined your ceiling. They used to be much greener. Now, they held slight marbling from sun bleaching like polished jade, pale, ethereal. Some had fallen down throughout the years. You can tell by the spots they’d left, and how you filled them with planets instead. Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn. Uranus. Neptune. Pluto too, even if Pluto wasn’t considered a planet anymore. You could recall putting these up with your family. 

‘It’s only midnight?’ You mentally whispered to yourself as you moved your eyes sluggishly from the plastic stars to the glowing green numbers of your clock. It certainly didn’t feel like it. The night seemed to wane almost as if it was timeless. Would the morning sun ever meet your gaze? You closed your eyes softly and took in a slow, deep breath. Your thoughts unfurled from the corners of your mind and ran wild in your head. Spatially, you were aware of the way your room had been packed up semi-neatly into brown boxes varying in size, many of them plastered with your last name. You sighed. What an odd world you’d be thrusted into in less than 24 hours. 

Letting your mind wander, you thought about the things that university would bring to you that you could not get when staying at home. There were many things to be excited about! Your major, for one. Clubs, meeting new people, a certain amount of freedom and getting a brief taste of adulthood while still being ultimately comfortable. You hadn’t been able to speak to your roommate yet. Deep down inside, you knew that they would be lovely. Your intuition seldom ever lied. As you pondered what the oncoming days would entail, you let a small bout of anxiety gnaw away at your thoughts. It had been an unwelcome resident since you began applying for universities. Would you be up to the task that was growing up?

You threw your forearm over your tired eyes and softly groaned. Gods, you didn’t want to think about that now. You’ve wanted to go to university since you first stepped into high school, but now that you lay on the eve of leaving and spreading your wings, you found yourself stuttering in thought once more. It was more than daunting to leave the comfort of a home you’ve always known. 

You exhaled deeply and let your eyes gaze longingly around your room once more. You can smell the rolls of tape. The cardboard boxes. This isn’t the last night you’ll ever have in this house, but it will be the last before a long interlude. Through your doubts and restlessness, your body willed itself back to a dazed state and allowed sleep to blanket your tired form. ‘So much for staying up,’ mumbled your inner voice before succumbing. Your breath was slow and peaceful. Crickets on the brink of autumn played gracefully accompanied by the gentle breeze through the trees. 

Your dreams have always been interesting for as long as you began writing little notes about them as a child. This one? The dream your head had conjured up was something warm and familiar. You could see your house like a watercolor painting, gentle and soft. It sung of your presence. Your mother’s voice rang through the halls, sugary sweet and soft like honey as she chided your father for one thing or another. You could feel your body move forward before you rested upon your couch. Next to you was the man your mother had been poking fun at. A jovial grin was on his lips as his mouth moved to shoot back teases his wife’s way, though the words did not match with the movements of his lips. 

Their voices were some of your most treasured sounds in the world. Their laughter and the love they showered you in was all you needed to feel to know you were home. 

The dream would have remained peaceful if the visages of your loved ones had stayed theirs. Your mother had rounded the corner about to take her seat next to you when you felt your father’s hand on your shoulder. His eyes had glazed over paired with something of a blank expression, a soft smile that felt more than menacing as he stared straight through you. The hairs on the back of your neck raised as he continued staring, his closed lipped smile growing bigger without showing teeth. You felt your mother’s hand on your other shoulder and whipped your head around to see the same expression on her face. Her eyes were wide, much too wide. 

Rendered frozen, as one often is in dreams quickly turned nightmares, you felt your heart seize. Your mother’s mouth had begun to open; her jaw was wide, large like a snake’s. Your breathing quickened. Her mouth grew wider, lips curled into a painful smile as tears welled in her eyes and streaked in fat drops that rolled down her stretched cheeks. You watched in horror as your sleeping body began to jolt, begging for respite from the unnerving scene. You tried in vain to turn your eyes away, but were forced to watch as a mass of curling, inky black tendrils slithered forth from her throat, the sound of flesh ripping up from her esophagus making your stomach churn. 

The sound of static filled your ears as you finally were granted permission to look away, only to be met with your father’s still smiling face. His eyes were wide as well, but only the sclera were visible. He’d rolled his eyes upwards, so far upwards that if he moved them back any further he could risk snapping his optic nerve. The thought of his optic nerves wound up around his eyeballs like a hair stuck to a sticky lollipop that’d fallen on the floor caused your sleeping body to lurch, spine bending unnaturally off of the bed. 

You felt those inky black tendrils fall along your body, wriggling along you as if they were trying to pull you towards your mother’s gaping maw. You could hear her crying as they pulled against you. Your father’s hands shot out and grabbed at your forearms, pulling hard against you as if he was fighting with your mother against the tendrils that seared into your skin. His lips parted. The static grew louder. Through the fuzzy noise that caused pins in your brain, you could make out the words he desperately attempted to meet your ears. 

“Wake up,” he repeated. “Run,” he begged. “It’s not safe here.” His smile broke as he lunged forwards. Face pressed flush against yours, the inky black tendrils spilled from behind his eyelids. “He finally found you.” 

CRASH

Heart pulled straight from your chest, you woke. Confused, you grabbed at your chest and quickly surveyed the room. Your adrenaline was pumping wildly through your veins as you scrambled and pulled your knees tightly to your chest in a small attempt to self regulate from the horrible nightmare you had. The ringing in your ears was so loud, you could hardly recognize the sounds of a scuffle downstairs, nor did you recognize the tall, pale figure watching you from the tree line with his inky tendrils drawn into the earth like tangled roots ready to swallow you whole. 

[netmomplus]

“Picnics Aren’t Supposed to Go Like This” - Touhou Secret Santa 2022

Hi there @axcicos, I’m your @touhousecretsanta this year. I ended up writing a story, it’s mostly Kogaban/Kogabanki but features Koishi in an important role. I’ve never written Koishi before, but she seems really fun so I wanted to try it out, and hopefully you like it. ~~~ There was a place not too far from the Human Village where one could go to get just as much privacy as they could ever want. It was somewhere between the village itself and the Forest of Magic, and its proximity to the latter made most humans too fearful to venture too close. After all, dangerous monsters were said to lurk in those woods, and one false move could cause one to vanish as if they never existed. For a couple of youkai, however, it wasn’t an issue at all, especially since youkai didn’t typically eat each other. At least, one would think.

Case in point, said “couple of youkai” had decided to use this spot as a private place for picnics and such. It being a comfortably warm summer day especially made this a perfect spot to enjoy a bit of privacy. One was carrying the food in wicker baskets purchased from a store in the Human Village, while the other carried tea for the both of them. Conveniently for the tea carrier, she had a couple extra helping hands – or really heads – to assist in the endeavor.

“Kogasa,” complained the aforementioned youkai, one Sekibanki. “Can you please tell me why you chose literally right outside the village for our date?”

“Banki, I thought I made it really clear,” Kogasa responded, “it’s isolated, but it’s also outdoors. I specifically chose this spot because no one ever comes around here, you told me that was your only real criteria. Aren’t you tired of having all our dates in the back of my smithy?”

“Not really, it’s quiet there. And no humans can see us. That’s why I like it so much.”

“Banki, you sure complain a lot…”

With a sigh, Kogasa stopped at a point. There was enough space for the both of them to sit down with all of their stuff. Reaching into a basket, she pulled out a blanket and spread it out onto the ground below. She would then kneel down onto the blanket and place down the baskets, beckoning Sekibanki to do the same with the tea. Thankfully, Banki didn’t make much of a fuss as she did so.

“Thank you, Banki. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Kogasa looked down at the umbrella she was carrying. She scratched her head when she noticed the geta it was wearing… did she always have a geta there? She wondered if that would make sticking the umbrella into the blanket as a makeshift parasol more awkward, but she might as well give it a try anyway. Given that the umbrella was the other half of her being, she didn’t want to break anything, so after a deep breath, she shifted her hands along its shaft, hoping to get a good angle. She then lifted her hands in preparation, before thrusting them downward, and…

Voila! The umbrella was perfectly stuck right in the middle of the blanket. She gave a small clap in triumph, prompting Sekibanki to give a soft smirk in response.

“Bravo,” Sekibanki commented. “You stuck yourself into some dirt. Maybe you’ll grow leaves if we leave you for too long.”

“Hah, very funny. Imagine if we stuck one of your heads in the dirt. They don’t need to breathe, so they’d be fine. Do you think we’d get a tree of Bankis eventually?”

In response, Banki could only shrug.

“Me’s a crowd, Kogasa, what can I say-”

“Haha, yep, more than one of any person at any given time would be pretty weird.”

Both partners were greeted with the sound of a voice that neither recognized. Freezing up, they kept looking around, only to not see whoever the voice was coming from. At first both suspected it was the other trying to play a prank on them, but no, that voice was definitely too young and innocent sounding for either of them to pull off. Kogasa pulled her umbrella out from the blanket, while Sekibanki nabbed one of her spare heads and prepared to chuck it at whoever the voice belonged to.

“...whoever this is,” Sekibanki threatened, “if you don’t show up right now, I’m throwing this severed head at you.”

It did not take long for them to get a response.

“Well that’s just gross. Fine, but only because I don’t want a severed head thrown at me.”

Rather than make some kind of grand entrance, the individual in question simply walked into the girls’ point of view. She was… unmistakably a youkai, given the odd purple strands surrounding her and the orb near where her heart would be. The green hair and dress with a mustard yellow shirt was certainly a choice, fashion-wise, but that was hardly the issue here. The real issue was why this random girl was interrupting their date with quips to begin with.

“I just wanted to say hi, there’s no need for threats of violence.”

“T-this was meant to be private.” Kogasa’s voice broke into a stutter. “You can’t just interrupt people while they’re on dates like this.”

“Oh.” The green-haired woman paused. Despite it seeming like this would be where she would think about what was going on, both the others noticed that her stare seemed awfully vacant. Almost as if she wasn’t thinking at all. “Sorry! I’ve been bored. Nothing interesting’s been going on at that old temple, so I’m just walking around until I find something interesting.”

“...the old temple? Kogasa, do you know who this is?”

This prompted Kogasa to try and remember if, or when, she had met this girl before. She did frequent the Myouren Temple in an effort to surprise visitors, but she didn’t really pay attention to who was there and when. Still, something about this girl seemed familiar, like she saw her once or twice, maybe even had a conversation with her. Even with that though, she couldn’t really place it. She somehow both stood out and didn’t at the same time.

“...to tell the truth, Banki, if I have met her, then I can’t remember where, or when.”

“Oh jeez, you don’t remember? That’s okay, people forget me all the time, and that’s okay with me.” The girl stopped and tipped her hat. “I’m Koishi Komeiji. I’m a satori, but I’m sure you knew that already. Don’t worry, I won’t read your mind, I closed my eye so I can’t do that anymore.”

“O-oh, you’re a satori. Okay, uh, what a relief about the mind thing,” Kogasa chimed, adding an awkward laugh for a bit of levity. She then gave her trademark face, a wink with her tongue sticking out.

“I’m Kogasa Tatara, a karakasa-obake, but you can just call me an umbrella.”

“...Sekibanki. Just Sekibanki.” The redheaded youkai crossed her arms and huffed. “Rokurokubi, dullahan, whatever you want to call me… still a youkai.”

 “Nice to meet you both! I’m sorry for interrupting your date again, but before I get going, can I ask you two a question?”

Oh great, she wanted to ask a question before she left. This at least implied that she was leaving soon, right? That very possibility seemed to make Sekibanki feel some sort of relief. Just please, finally, let them have some proper privacy.

“Ask away then,” Sekibanki promptly said.

“How come you’re so obsessed with making this so private? It’s Gensokyo, I doubt anyone’s going to bat an eye at two ladies going on a date, right?”

That question was enough to give the couple pause. They both knew the answer to that in the back of their mind, but it was largely a slow race - maybe even an anti-race - to see who would answer first. Ultimately it would be Kogasa who finally spoke up.

“I-it’s actually… Banki’s preference. W-would you like me to elaborate on that for you, dear, or…”

“I can explain it.” Sekibanki took a sip of tea, then crossed her arms and sighed. “It’s simple, really. I don’t want humans knowing that I’m going on a date with a youkai.”

“I mean,” Koishi interrupted, tilting her head, “it’s kind of obvious you’re a youkai, though. You still have your other heads floating around you.”

Sekibanki looked to her side and saw that Koishi was right on the money. Not only did she have two heads floating about minding their own business, but she was still holding one like a projectile. She sighed.

“Well, I don’t usually go around the Human Village with my heads around. My entire thing is living incognito, gathering information on the goings on inside that village, maybe using a head to scare people on occasion. If I blow my cover, no one would be willing to associate with me. And how am I supposed to work when no one is willing to give me information?”

“Oh! So you’re insecure about your social status! That’s okay, a lot of people are like that!” Koishi gave her a smile, even as she occasionally glanced at the basket of food. “Isn’t out here pretty hard to notice, though? Are you just that paranoid that someone will catch you?”

Sekibanki did not answer. Even as Kogasa gave her a knowing look, she remained silent for a good few minutes. So what if this random girl was right? She didn’t want to admit it! Despite that, she found that she was nodding her head anyway. It definitely wasn’t Koishi forcing it, just her stupid conscience working on its own.

“F-fine, fine. I am.” Sekibanki’s voice had an unusual level of snappiness to it. “I am worried about it. And I’m tired of complaining about it all the time, it makes me feel so dang entitled. So there, I’m being honest. You happy?“

“Well, I don't feel emotions really, so you’re asking the wrong person.” Koishi then turned to face Kogasa, who had been largely silent for the past several minutes. “Are you happy?”

“W-what? No, no I’m not happy to hear that. Why would I be happy that Banki’s upset?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you two should talk about it.” Koishi shrugged as she reached into the picnic basket and grabbed a sandwich. “Ooh, Western style food. For looking so old fashioned, you sure do have modern taste, miss umbrella!”

“W-wait, that’s not yours-”

“Thanks for the food, bye!”

“Hold on, get back here with that…!”

Despite both of their efforts, neither Kogasa nor Sekibanki could stop Koishi from escaping with the sandwich. After all, it seemed she had simply disappeared from thin air in the moments in between blinks. The only evidence that she had even been there was the fact that there was a missing sandwich to begin with. The group gave each other glances, deeply puzzled.

“Did… did that girl just show up to take our food?” Kogasa asked, tilting her head.

“...I think so,” Sekibanki admitted. Crossing her arms, she knelt back down onto the blanket. “Can we go ahead and eat what we have now? I’m starving.”

“S-sure, but uh…” Kogasa’s voice stammered as she sat down, sticking her umbrella back into the blanket. “Can we talk about what you said? And… perhaps I can offer my apologies?”

“...what is there to apologize for?” Sekibanki huffed, her mouth covered by her long collar. “I’m the one who was freaking out. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“N-no, I… I was the one who pushed this place. I really should have listened to you and looked for somewhere further out. I’m… I’m sorry for pushing you to do this. And for not taking your concerns seriously, especially. I shouldn’t have just called you a complainer like that.”

“...Kogasa, I…”

Both remained silent for a good minute, struggling to figure out how to proceed with the conversation. They both felt like there were things to be said, but none were quite sure what exactly those things were. It took a bit of action by Sekibanki to resume the talk, in the form of a hug. Even as she got uncharacteristically teary-eyed, her body language remained as cool as ever.

“Don’t get mad at yourself. Seriously, you don’t need that for yourself. I absolutely forgive you for the complaining comments, but don’t act like I’m blameless. I was overly concerned and whiny, I just didn’t want to admit it.”

“Banki…” Kogasa eventually broke from the hug and placed her hands on her lap, staring at the basket next to her. “I guess we… kinda screwed up this date both ways, huh…”

“...I mean, have we really started? Neither of us have even gotten to eat yet. Even if there’s… one less sandwich. You did pack an even number, right?”

“W-well, you’re right, I did only put an even number of sandwiches in the basket… but…”

“...but what?”

Kogasa then opened her eyes, before suddenly reaching up into her umbrella. Banki looked on, puzzled, until Kogasa eventually retrieved something that was stuck to the underside. There, she held a small item wrapped in paper, which she refused to hesitate in opening; as it turned out, it was another sandwich, which she held up with grandiosity. The fact that she’d managed to hide it so well and Banki didn’t notice clearly had the latter stunned.

“Behold, an extra one! I hope that surprised you!”

“The heck?” Banki blinked a few times. “Sure that surprised me. You had an extra? What were you planning to do with that extra?”

“Well, I was going to end with it, actually,” Kogasa explained. “We were going to split it in half, it was gonna be cute and everything. Shame what happened with the one that got stolen though.”

“Yeah, oh well. At least we got-”

Banki flinched when something suddenly hit her in the face, nearly knocking her head off of her neck. Kogasa gasped when the other girl came close to falling over.

“B-Banki, are you alright!?”

“Y-yes, I’m fine, but what the heck was that?”

The pair then looked to see where the object had landed. It was… it was another sandwich, landing perfectly on the blanket. There wasn’t a single bite on it, and upon lifting up each part, there was no obvious evidence of tampering. In fact, it looked exactly like the ones she had packed.

“Wait, is this… is this the one that girl stole?” Both girls looked around to see if they could find the original sandwich thief. Alas, they both struggled in the endeavor. No green hair, no yellow clothes, no hat, it was truly as if she had never been there. Deciding that it wasn’t worthwhile to try and continue the search, they settled back down and decided to begin eating proper.

“...I can’t believe I was planning to surprise someone with a sandwich,” Kogasa mused, “and then I wound up being outdone anyway.”

“There’s only so many ways to surprise someone with a sandwich,” Sekibanki said with a sigh as she took a bite, “and sorry to say, but the taste isn’t a surprise either. It’s great as always.”

“Ah well, I’ll take ‘great’. Let’s just enjoy our lunch already.”

And so the pair finally began their date in earnest. The remainder of the day proved far less eventful than that beginning, to both of their relief; sandwiches were eaten, the last one was split, and not a single other person interrupted them. Still, neither could say they weren’t at least glad they met that oddball, Koishi or something. Thief that she was, at least she helped facilitate a serious conversation between the two of them. They could most definitely be thankful for that. https://archiveofourown.org/works/43840969

[samiduwhan]

Geraldine Viswanathan | they/she | non-binary | Have you met [Sami Duwhan] yet? They’re the [27] year old [influencer] that lives around [West Point Homes]. I think they’ve lived in Seattle for [five years]. From what I’ve heard, they’re [perky] but they can also be [awkward] if you get on their bad side. When I think of them, I usually think of [mirrorball by Taylor Swift]. (OOC: Kirby, 24, she/her, CST)

Stats

Name: Sami Uma Duwhan

Age/D.O.B: 27, July 29th 1995

Hometown: Adelaide, Australia

Gender/pronouns: non-binary, they/them & she/her

Sexuality: pansexual/panromantic

Occupation: YouTuber/streamer

General appearance: photo for reference

Positive traits: perky, creative, friendly

Negative traits: awkward, anxious, dramatic

Hobbies: video games, make up, reading, baking

Family: Dev Duwhan (father, 57) Uma Duwhan (mother, deceased), Ari Duwhan (brother, 20)

Bio (bullying tw, death tw, illness tw, depression tw)

Sami was the first born child to Dev and Uma Duwhan, a very happy couple that met and fell in love in their late 20s. The couple was settled down together within six months, and within their first year together they welcomed little Sami.

They were a happy child, surrounded by love. Their life at home was laidback, easy-going, and encouraging. Sami was an excitable, loud kid at home with their parents where they felt safe. School was a bit of a different story. While they were the same old kid, they realized that a lot of people weren’t quite so accepting of rambunctious, weird kids that interrupted class to show the teacher the song their dad taught them over the weekend. They got picked on quite a bit, which never really broke their spirit but it taught them to be more reserved around others.

When Sami was seven, Uma and Dev welcomed their younger brother, Ari, and Sami had a wonderful relationship with him. Their age difference never impacted their bond, even when Sami was saddled with babysitting for their parents. The siblings were very close and always have been.

As a child and a younger teen, Sami was very confused by their gender and sexuality. They cut off all their hair by themself in the bathroom once, hoping the “masculine” haircut would help them understand themself a little better, but it didn’t. Nothing did - until they were around fifteen and stumbled upon the concept of genders outside the typical binary. It clicked in their mind so easily and they/them pronouns felt so right. It took a while for them to muster up the courage to tell their parents, who were entirely supportive even though they didn’t fully understand. They became experts at correcting themselves and others whenever their eldest child got misgendered.

Their happy life was interrupted very abruptly when they were sixteen and Uma got sick. She just wouldn’t get better, and when they went to the doctor and got the diagnosis, it was already too late. She died within six months, making their tight-knit family a little smaller and a lot darker. The three remaining Duwhan’s were thrust into a depression that consumed them all pretty entirely. 

Sami’s spirit had been stamped out pretty hard as they graduated school, turned eighteen, enrolled in university... everything they’d been so excited for. The only solace they had was locking themself up in their bedroom and booting up their computer. Games helped, games distracted them and kept them happy. Watching others playing games online helped, too, and when they were nineteen they decided to give that a try. They uploaded their first YouTube video, awkwardly and quietly starting a Sims 3 series for their beginning audience of zero. It was fun, and eventually picked up some traction. Within their first year online, Sami had amassed over 50,000 subscribers on their channel.

It snowballed from there. 50,000, 100,000, 250,000 - all until their channel hit a million subscribers just shy of Sami’s 22nd birthday. Their videos and livestreams had become their livelihood and their career. They adored it and how comfortable they felt in front of their camera. Though they still lived at home in their childhood bedroom, they’d been flying back and forth to the States a lot for whatever convention, partnership, meet-up, whatever their team at YouTube wanted them to do. It eventually became obvious that they’d just have to move to America. So they did that in September of 2017, setting up shop in a two-bedroom townhouse at West Point Homes.

They’d lived there for five years now, happy as ever, and their channel boasts over two million subscribers now. Sami’s joyful, energetic spirit has returned, despite still being a little wary of others that they aren’t close with. They’re a happy, cheerful person, always excited to talk anyone’s ear off about The Sims, Minecraft, Stardew Valley... the list goes on.

Fun facts/wanted connections

Sami is a very very very tightknit person - if you are their good friend, you are their family. I would love some close friends for them, maybe some neighbors they’re homies with?

They have a Stardew Valley tattoo, a Minecraft tattoo, a Sims tattoo, a soot sprite tattoo, and their family members’ birthdays tattooed.

Their apartment is very messy... almost always. The only part that looks nice is their office, where the camera can see. They are not organized in the least.

They have pretty much no friends back in Australia; when their mom died, they shut themself off from everyone and lost a lot of friends in the process.

They love Twilight... like.. a lot...

It’s pretty normal for them to get kinda bored and lonely and poke around on Tinder or Bumble for a while, just to get anxious whenever the talking stage gets to the ‘let’s meet up and grab a drink’ stage so they go ghost

Taken connections:

Close friends with @darcexmoreau​

Tinder ghosted @budddywells​

[theboysfromaustin]

May 22, 2004

Kazuo flinched as the door opened.  He didn't know where his dad had been and quite frankly, he didn't want to know.  Probably drinking or being a creep at a porn shop.  He had to talk to him, an activity he loathed, but it was…

Important.

Kenjiro side-eyed him, “What's your problem?  What did you do now, you little shit?” “Ian Gabriel called.” Kenjiro froze - that was a name he hadn't heard in years, and not one he wanted to hear.  It was that lawyer.  The one that his Nanami had been so close to.  That horribly fruity faggot fuck.  “The fuck does that animal want?” Okay, Kazuo knew there was some history between the two, but he didn't know exactly what, “Grandpa Kensuke died.”

A malicious grin spread over Kenjiro’s face, “Good!  Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.” “The funeral’s in two days.” “As much as I'd like to piss on his grave, I can't go with this,” he held up his oxygen machine, then studied Kazuo,

“Can you go retrieve whatever he left without fucking it up?”

“Y-yes…sir…” Kazuo stammered.  “Good.  I'll book you a flight for tomorrow.  Call when everything's sorted.” “Mr. Gabriel said he could pick me up.” “Watch out for that one,” Kenjiro growled, “Don't turn your back on him.” “Why?” Kazuo had looked up the law firm now that he knew the man’s full name.  

Ian Gabriel looked very kind, and it had put a name to the painting that hung on his wall - a painting his mother had done.  “Lawyers are stupid, vicious, money-hungry monsters.  And Ian Gabriel is something worse than that.  He's a filthy queer, so really don't turn your back on him unless you want his cock up your ass.”

Kazuo flushed red, looking away.

Oh no, that would be awful, he thought sarcastically.  “At least the bastard paid your grandfather well, so there should be a fat check.” Kazuo watched his father stalk away, pulling cigarettes out of his pocket.  He pulled one out, lit it, and sat at his computer, typing away.  Kazuo stayed where he was, waiting to be dismissed.  Kenjiro ignored him as he booked the flight, printing the pass on the ancient dot matrix printer, “Here.  Don’t fuck it up.  And here…” He thrust some money into Kazuo’s hand, “Get a taxi, get there early.” “Why?” Kenjiro rolled his eyes, ignoring the fact that his son had never been to an airport, let alone on a plane, “Because 9/11 fucked it up.  Get there early, get on the plane, get the money, come back.”

“O-okay…” Kazuo put it into his wallet with the pass, “Thanks.” “Hm,” Kenjiro eyed him suspiciously, then went back to his computer.  Kazuo scuttled to his room, setting his clock.  He sat down at his computer, unlocking it, staring at the website displayed.  His heart fluttered, Ian….Gabriel….grandpa Kesnuke’s attorney friend….his gay attorney friend.  Who, maybe….Kazuo shook his head, sighing, “Man, if he’s that smart, and that successful…why would he want someone like me?  A snotty little punk?” His shoulders slumped, “If he is single, he can do better than me…” Kazuo leaned on his elbow, “At least I can escape Chicago…” He’d quit his job at the bar a week ago, hadn’t told his did, wasn’t going to tell his dad because…yeah.

He wasn’t coming back.  He wasn’t going to throw himself at the mercy of Mr. Gabriel, either…unless he offered help.  At this point in life, he was afraid of asking for help - hadn’t worked out at all over the past 15 years.  Kazuo just hoped they’d form some sort of gay bond and things would just…work out.  He shook his head, relocking the computer, and slumped into bed.  He had a big day tomorrow, and hopefully…

Things were gonna go his way.

[evertidings]

happiest of birthdays to my grumpiest hunter, Blane. truth be told, they hate today and the unwanted attention they garner because they’re “turning a whole one year older, what the fuck is so special about that?” but it doesn’t stop the gang from spoiling them.

below is a little drabble i wrote set two years after the aftermath of the midnight hours trilogy, in which A gives Blane a present. enjoy <33

—

It’s silent when Blane walks into the department—they’re glad. No one remembers it’s their birthday. No one knows, even, aside from N and perhaps the few that they told. They like it this way. The fanfare that A gets when it’s their birthday makes Blane sick to their stomach.

Speak of the devil.

Blane slows their pace as A approaches them, a hint of a scowl on their face as they play with the strings of the gift bag in their hand.

“Devereux.”

“Rekner.”

The usual greeting.

Blane eyes the bag in A’s hand with mild curiosity. There’s no tissue paper and, as far as they can see, no card. A thrusts their hand out, dangling the gift in front of Blane.

“Take it.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s your birthday. You’re officially old, Rekner. It’s my gift to you for being one year closer to getting rid of you for good.”

The insult means nothing to Blane—they know A doesn’t really mean it anyway. Not now and not then. Still, they don’t take the bag.

“I didn’t tell you it was my birthday.”

A shrugs. “N told me. It’s also on your file.”

“You looked at my file?”

“No.” A shakes the bag. They don’t bother following up with something mor convincing. “Hurry up and take it. I lost the receipt so it’s yours either way, whether you want it or not.”

Blane hesitates but takes the gift, if only to stop A from creating a scene. They’d rather die than have the entire department find out it’s their birthday today. An ironic day to go, but their life is nothing but ironic.

The bag is heavier than A made it seem. Baby blue, made with cheap material that you find at the dollar store. Blane peers inside, not surprised when they see an object made of glass. It’s—

“—a watering can,” A says. Hands now absent of the gift, they fidget with their fingers. They still refuse to look at Blane. “It’s impractical, I know but I’m hoping you’d shatter it on your first use and I’ll be there to see your face. That’s the real reason for the gift. Not because I like you or anything.”

“I didn’t assume you did,” Blane replies. Against their will, a bit of amusement creeps into their voice. They have to fight the slight tug of their lips. “I’ll be sure to use it at home just because you said that.”

“Fucker.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Aren’t you supposed to act nicer on your birthday?”

“That applies to you, not me.”

A rolls their eyes and turns away. Still, some of the tension in their shoulders is gone at the easy banter. “I don’t care what promise I made to N, I’m not going to be ‘civil’ to you just because it’s your birthday. Next year I’m getting you a fart cushion, Rekner.”

“I look forward to it,” Blane answers. A smirk finds its way in their lips at A’s lack of response.

Later, when they get home, Blane places the glass can in a cubby on their shelf. They have a feeling A told them the story about wishing Blane would break it so that they wouldn’t refuse the gift, but it’s been a while since Blane has truly despised the other hunter. Besides, though they’d never admit it—A has a big enough ego as it is—they like it.

They manage to use it for a couple of months before it shatters. When it does, A (begrudgingly, as they would insist) buys them a new one.

[augustghosts]

1984 - Eddie Munson

Eddie and Readers first year together, and how they first met. 

This is a prequel to 1987 and 1988. But can defo be read alone!

word count: 5.5k

Warnings: 18+ as usual, gets spicy a few times. But no descriptive smut in this one, sorry </3 Smoking and drinking mentioned, same as the other chapters! A meet cute and some first times. Allusions to sex at the end of almost every month, someone needs to stop me lmao. More stolen song lyrics but from radiohead this time hehe

also not proofread so lmk if you spot any mistakes <3

January, 1984. 18 year old Eddie Munson is leaning against his newly acquired van. Proud. Ripped black jeans, leather jacket. Typical Eddie. A style he will come to find hard to let go of. Legs crossed over one another, lighting a cigarette. It’s late, about an hour and a half after the bell rang to signify the end of the school day. Cold, too. 

“Fuck!” The curse word being thrust out into the air makes him jump. The source coming from the other side of his vehicle, a few spaces down. 

“Stupid fucking thing!” He hears the voice again, along with a sputtering engine. He’s instantly curious, rounding his car to have a peek. He sees her car door open. She sat in the driver seat, turning the key over and over again as if it would help. It doesn’t. He smirks, because it’s her. The girl he’d admired from afar for years. Fuck, was this his chance? 

Fuck it, he thinks. “You okay?” He asks. Brave of him, to be honest.  She whirls around, she looks scared, like she was expecting someone else. Her face relaxes when she realises it’s just another student. Eddie can’t help but look her up and down as she steps out of her car. He doesn’t miss that she does the same to him. 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks” She’s still watching him. She’d always thought he was cute. But they’d never really been in the same room, let alone close enough to have a conversation. Despite being in the same grade for years. 

“You sure?” He laughs. 

“Well, I don't know.” She laughs back, “It won’t start. I don’t know about cars, I barely know how to drive them.” 

He laughs again, a genuine laugh. “Want me to take a look?” He takes his chance. Shoots his shot. 

“You know about cars?” 

“A little.” He says, he walks around to the front of her car. When he lifts the hood, a cloud of smoke starts to surround him. He coughs slightly, taking a step back. Mumbles a fucking hell. 

“Do you know about that?”She gestures to the smoke. She’s laughing again. It’s beautiful, be thinks. 

“Um, no.” He says, pretending to get a good look at the engine. Fake concentration on his face as he closes the hood. Smoke still billows from the sides. “But, what i I do know is that it looks pretty fucked. So…” 

“I hope not.” Her face falls, he feels guilty. “I can’t afford another one. You got any more of those?” 

She’s pointing to the cigarette in his mouth. He digs around in his pocket and passes her the pack. He watches as she lights one, he watches her lips as she inhales. They share a quiet moment - he breaks it. 

“So uh, can you get home okay?” 

“Yeah. I don’t live that far.” She gets her bag out the front seat and locks the doors. 

“You’re gonna walk?” He asks. 

“Yeah?” She’s already started stepping away from him.

“Wait!” He calls after her. Too much, he thinks. “I can um, can I give you a ride? If you like?” 

“Are you trying to lure me into your car? Don’t you know they’re teaching us that that’s unsafe now?” 

“No! No i was just-“ He starts to back track, suddenly afraid of how creepy his offer was. 

“I was kidding!” She cuts him off. He mumbles an oh and laughs with her. She continues: “It’s okay though, really. It’s not far.” 

“Even more reason for me to drive you. Please? I can’t let such a fair maiden walk home alone.” He tries to make her laugh again, already missing the sound. It works. 

“Fuck it.” She says, “Why not? There’s witnesses over there though, by the way.” She points to the jocks hanging around outside the gym. 

“Bunch of pricks.” Eddie says as he holds the door open for her. Her laugh makes him smile bigger than he has in weeks. 

February. Hawkins High library, late afternoon. Eddie feels like everyone is looking at him. “Eddie, we’re fine.” She says, not even looking up from her paper but she knows what he’s doing. Surveying the room to glare at anyone staring at him, anyone wondering why the hell Eddie Munson was in a library with a girl. One of the most beautiful girls in school, at that. 

“I’m not getting this anyway.” He says, throwing the pencil down in front of him and leaning back in his chair. She watches as he spreads his legs, getting comfortable. Her eyes on his thighs - he notices. 

“You are! You’re a lot smarter than you think.” She gestures to the paper in front of him, where she had drawn green ticks and a smiley face on the page when he had asked her to look it over. After that night he dropped her home a month ago, he had come back to help her call a tow company to come get her car. He had recommended a mechanic for her and even gone with her to make sure she ‘didn’t get ripped off’ - his own words. She had started buying weed off of him as an excuse to hang out. They had kissed once in his trailer and then not spoken for a week. He had asked her to help him study. His excuse to hang out again , and here they were. 

“Yeah right.” He mumbles, looking around nervously again. “I need a smoke.” 

“Let’s go.” She says softly. He watches her hands as she packs up her things. He lets her leave first, so that he can snatch up the piece of paper she had drawn the smiley face on and stuff it into his pocket. It was too cute to leave behind. 

“You know,” He starts talking after they both had cigarettes in their hands, he had lit hers for her and she had looked into his eyes and it made his cock stir. Made him think about the night he had invited her into his place to watch a movie and she had ended up underneath him on the couch. He shakes his head, as if that would make the image of her swollen lips leave his mind, and he continues - “I appreciate you helping me and all but, it makes me wonder why.” 

“What?” She’s leaning against the wall facing him. He’s looking forward, her eyes burning into the side of his face. 

“Why are you helping me?” He repeats. She smiles, he’s about to ask her what’s funny when she lifts her hand to his cheek. He freezes, his stomach flips and his skin tingles as she moves her hand to the back of his neck. She leans up and slowly tugs him down, he feels stupid about how still he’s being right now. When their lips meet he jumps into action, moving his free hand to her waist. The kiss ends too soon when she pulls away and says: “That’s why I'm helping you.” 

March. A cold night, Eddie’s porch. His jacket around her shoulders. Lit cigarettes and empty bottles. Sitting so close that their legs touch, skin tingling. He thought she looked beautiful. “It’s fucking freezing.” She whispered from where her head was on his shoulder. 

“I know,” He was shivering too. “I’m trying not to smoke in the trailer anymore, my ceiling is starting to turn a weird colour.” 

“Ew,” She laughed. “That’s gross.” 

“Yeah, that’s why I'm not doing it.” He laughed back. He turned his head slightly to look down at her. She stood up, holding out her hand. 

“Come on.” 

He took her hand, as always, and let her lead him inside. She shrugged his jacket off of her shoulders and turned to face him, winding her arms around his neck. He smiled against her lips as she leaned up to kiss him. They had only kissed a few times, Eddie felt like his soul was alight every single time. His hands resting on her hips, kind of stiff - nervous. She always made it better, made him better. As the kiss heated up, tongues and hands wandered. She turned to gently shove him down to sit on the couch. 

“Fuck.” He murmured as she climbed onto his lap. Shit, he could already feel his cock stirring. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but she was practically sitting on his crotch right now. He shifted slightly underneath her, her lips travelling to his throat not helping the situation. Her giggle in his ear when he groaned and squeezed her waist. He was screwed. 

“Baby, i-” He pulled away, stopping himself mid sentence. He had never called her that before, they had never used pet names with each other, his mind was reeling - unsure of what to say apart from a small sorry mumbled under his breath. 

“What are you sorry for? The nickname or your boner?” 

His face reddened, he could feel the heat of his skin. Actually, his whole body felt kind of hot. Should he open a window? “Uhm, both. I guess.” He said, sheepish. 

“Don’t be,” She said, grinding down against him. He was leaning back now on one of his elbows, his other hand resting on her thigh. His eyes on her hips. “I like it.” Her hands travelled down his chest. She clarified: “Both.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, palm running up and down her leg, his fingers inching closer to her inner thigh.  She hummed in agreement. Pulling his face up to kiss him. “I don’t wanna fuck you for the first time on this couch though.” He says, the trailer filled with giggling as he scooped her into his arms. 

“As if that mattress of yours is any better.” 

April. Eddie’s bed, early morning. She’s still asleep beside him. She’d been staying over a lot recently. He loved it. They need to get up for school, but the breeze coming through the window is tempting him to stay underneath the sheets. Her body is warm beside him, he loves not sleeping alone. He thinks about going back to sleep and pretending he was never awake. When she wakes up panicking about missing school he’ll just shrug and lure her back into bed. But he knows how much she cares, knows how much she wants to graduate. Knows how much she wants him to graduate. He watches her for a little while longer, she looks ethereal. He knows what he wants to say. He just can’t seem to find the words. Maybe one day. 

He gets up, trudging to the kitchen as quietly as he can. Aware that he’s the only one awake in the place. They don’t have much, and he doesn’t know how to make the coffee she likes. He leaves that to her. So he just places some toast into the toaster and waits. She has a habit of not eating before school, he hates it. When he returns she's still sleeping, he places the plate down. Crawling on top of the covers to hover over her. When he places a kiss on her forehead her nose scrunches, he leans down to kiss that too. She groans as she wakes, his name being mumbled. He presses another kiss to her cheek, “Morning.” He mumbles. 

“Hi.” She whispers, grasping his chin in one hand to squeeze his cheeks. Pulling him down to kiss her lips. 

“I made you some breakfast.” He’s still whispering, their faces inches apart. “We don’t have long, you just looked so cute in my bed.” 

She laughs, reaching for the toast. Watching him walk around the room, picking up clothes. Hers and his. 

“What are you staring at?” He asks, he’s shirtless. Only a pair of sweats on his hips from when he went to the kitchen. 

“You.” She says, “Come here.” 

“We need to start getting ready.” He reminds her, but he obliges anyway. He really means that she needs to start getting ready. He can get ready in 5 minutes, but he doesn’t single her out - he knows better. He crawls to her, she's sitting up - he pushes her back down. His arms caging her in,  his hips anchoring to hers.

“I think we can be late today.” She whispers into his mouth. 

“Only if you can be quiet for me,” He says, “We don’t want to traumatise Wayne.”

May. He knows the sound of her car by now. He springs up from his seat on the couch, stepping over to the door to meet her at the bottom of the steps. “How are you feeling?” He asked, opening his arms to take her in immediately, when she met him at the bottom. She hadn’t been at school today, she didn’t feel good. He had felt lost.

“Like I got hit by a bus.” She jokes into his chest. He doesn’t laugh. She pulls away from him to walk up the steps, to escape the chilly air.

“I would have come to you.” He says, following closely behind her. “I wanted to come pick you up.”

“I was fine driving. And I feel better here, this is where I wanna be.” He never understood that, she loved his bedroom. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want a drink?”

“I’m fine, Ed’s.” She laughs at how worried he looks. It also breaks her heart, he cares so much. “I just want to rest, I think. Can we put a movie on?”

“Yeah, sure.” He’s touching her again, caressing her back. Always comforting, always wanting her close. Anything he can think of to make her feel better. He knows she craves his touch, just like he craves hers. She goes to sit on the couch but he stops her, “Nope! No, bed rest!” He exclaims, pointing to his bedroom. He looks like a mother telling her child to go to bed.

“Bed rest?” She laughs, “But the tv is in here?” She points to the square television on the stand. 

“I’m gonna wheel it in.” Eddie says, already crouching to untangle the wires. 

“No, Eddie, we can sit in here!”

“No, no, no.” He mumbles, still behind the tv. “Go!” He says, pointing to his bedroom door again. She laughs, but obliges. Eventually, he gets the tv stand into his room. 

“Where are you going?” She asks from under his covers as he turns to leave. 

“I’m gonna get you a drink, and some snacks,” He sits on the edge of the bed to put his palm on her forehead, as if he knew what he was doing. “And then I'm gonna come back and I'm gonna be your doctor.” 

“My doctor?” She laughs, he’s trying to push her down now, trying to pull the covers up to her chin and tuck her in. 

“Yep.” He says, matter of factly. He stands to leave, her heart swells as she thinks about him. How much he cares, he had even wanted to leave school today to do this. She had convinced him to stay over the phone. She came to a conclusion recently: she loves him. He returns with snacks and water bottles, mumbling about how he’ll go to the pharmacy when she is asleep and clean out the cold and flu shelves. Getting her everything she needed. She smiles as he climbs into bed with her, encouraging her to eat and drink, threatening to feed them to her if he had too. 

“Hey.” She mumbles, an hour into the movie. He hums, not looking at her, his eyes focused on the screen, chips being shovelled into his mouth. 

“I love you.” She whispers, so low that he isn’t even sure he had heard her right. His mouth stops chewing, his eyes stay glued to the screen. She can almost see the gears turning in his head. 

“What?” Is the conclusion he comes too, idiot - he thinks. He’s looking at her now, deer in headlights. 

“I said that I love you.” 

“Really?” His voice is so soft, she’s almost worried. Worried that she had scared him or that he didn’t reciprocate.

”Yes, Eddie.” She confirms. He’s hesitating. Fuck. He wants to say it back, needs to. He doesn’t know how. She understands, so she just kisses him softly on the cheek and settles back into his side to watch the movie. He breaks the silence with: “Am i gonna get sick now too? Because you just kissed me on the cheek?” 

“Probably. Then I'll get to take care of you.”

June. 4am. Eddie wonders if other people feel like this. If anyone else ever feels like some kind of puppet on a string. As if he’s being controlled, the things he’s doing are just to impress other people. Headaches, emphasising pain. She’s asleep in his bed, a usual night for them now. He’s sitting by the window, cigarette in hand. Her velvet skin under velvet sheets, all he wants is to be in there beside her. He knows he won’t sleep, he doesn’t want to disturb her. Sometimes he feels like she is too fast to keep up with. While he tries to take things slow, she likes to dive in. Too fast for her own shadow. Silver lining, he always looks forward to seeing her. She keeps him busy. Galloping through his mind even when she isn’t with him. Loneliness - no more. Doesn’t want to be anywhere she’s not and this frustrates the shit out of him.

He finishes his cigarette, closing the window. No help, to be honest, the room always smells of smoke regardless. She doesn’t mind. He crawls back in bed beside her, she shuffles slightly. Pushing back into him, his arm rests over her frame. Warm and safe. So strange to him, still now. The next morning, he watches as she stands in his small  kitchen, making two drinks.  “Why are you watching me?” She laughs. 

“I don’t know. I zoned out, you just look so good.” He smirks as she reaches for him, pulling him into a hug. He holds her tightly for a moment. She strokes his hair.

“You look tired.” She mumbles, her hand on his face, thumb tracing underneath his eye. “You should sleep at night instead of smoking out the window.”

He laughs before taking a sip of the coffee she had made and says: “Do I look like someone who prefers sleeping over smoking out the window?” 

July. It’s cold. The kind of cold that makes your nose and ears and hands feel like ice. You can put gloves on, slip on a hat. But they still feel cold underneath.  God, her brother would kill her if he knew she was sitting beside Eddie in his van, the joint being passed between them is almost done. The end fizzling orange as she watches him inhale the smoke before it circles around them in the van. What’s the fun in doing what you’re told? He’s watching her, she’s starting to think he can hear her internal monologue. Because right now, her eyes are travelling down his legs - thinking about how tightly the denim sits around his thighs. 

“Give it a rest.” He smirks. She jumps at the sound of his voice, he smirks wider.

“What?” 

“Stop staring at me.” He says. 

“You don’t like it?” She tries, her smirk mimicking his. 

“Depends.” He says, playfully. “Are you gonna come over here? Or are you gonna keep watching me  from afar?” 

She smiles - beautifully, he thinks. She practically crawls over to him, his eyes moving straight to her chest as she leans forward. Beautiful enough to break his heart. Her eyes were bright enough to pick it up and put it back together again. “Your hands are cold.” He laughs as she cradles his face. She’s sitting on his lap now, her thighs framing him. His eyes rake over her and her stomach stirs. 

“Warm them up then.” She says, bringing her mouth to his. Her hands winding around his warm neck. His large palms move to her chest straight away. 

“Eager?” She asks. He scoffs, pulling away from her mouth. 

“Of course, look at these things!” He unbuttones the blouse she has on, just enough to get a glimpse of the way her tits sit in the cups of her bra. He practically moans and adjusts the way he’s sitting beneath her. Their crotches brush against each others as they continue to kiss. Messily and rushed. Hot - hands wandering and squeezing. Eddie, as vocal as ever, groaning against her neck as his pilowy lips meet the warm skin there. Lips exploring - Hands gripping, squeezing her chest. Soft, loving. 

“What do you want?” He whispered against her lips, bringing his head back up to brush his mouth against hers, not quite touching. 

“Use your hands.” She smirked back at him. His ringed fingers coming up to cup her jaw. 

“What? These?” He laughs, wiggling his fingers in front of her face for effect. She nodded, grasping his wrist as he brought his hand up to her mouth, his thumb running across her bottom lip. Holding back a moan when she took it into her lips. Her tongue - warm, soft. His cock hardens in his jeans as the sun sets over them. As Eddie’s hands travel lower, the van eventually heats up to her liking. 

August. 11am, she emerges from her car. A small jog as she makes her way towards him, leaning against the door frame. Waiting for her as usual.

 “Hey!” She beams as she hops in. “How are you?” 

“I’m alright.” He says, she laughs. It's early for him, 11. He looks tired, she can tell. Half an hour later they’re in his bedroom. He’s pulling out his pack of cigarettes as she flips through a magazine he had beside his bed. He’s nervous for a second, relieved when he leans over to see that it’s an appropriate one. He thinks she probably wouldn't care anyway. 

“Ed’s, it’s still early. That’s not good for you.” Her usual rant. She smokes too, but she read in a magazine somewhere that smoking as soon as you wake up isn’t good for you. As if smoking is good for you at all. He’s seen her break that a few times, but he never says anything. He laughs around the cigarette that's now in his mouth. Fizzling orange, burning paper as he lights it. Smoke curling around the room. A roll of her eyes as she goes back to the magazine. Roaming the streets of Hawkins together - she should know by now, him smoking by 11am, is nothing.  Eddie has his notebook on his lap - D&D stuff. She never asked to see it, knew he wouldn’t let her. He was an amazing artist. He had wonderful visions. His campaigns are always so beautiful. Not that he ever let her see, but what she had heard was always good.

“It does make us look cool.” She joked. “Especially you.”

“Since when have you thought I was cool?” He laughs. She looks up from the magazine. 

“Hey! I’ve always thought you were cool!” 

“Yeah, right.” They both laugh. When it dies down, she continues. 

“I do. You’re my own personal bad boy.” 

He almost chokes. He hates that his stomach stirs at her words. He pushes it down, trying to keep joking instead. 

“Bad boy, huh?” Hm, maybe the wrong way to go. It comes out more suggestive than he intended. 

“Well, yeah.” She gestured to him, the room she’s sitting in. The cigarette in his hand, the posters and the guitar on the wall. 

“And, the yours part? What makes you think I'm yours?” Fuck, he’s really trying his luck here. His sudden wave of confidence so early in the morning surprised her.

“Of course you’re mine.” He doesn't miss the way her voice has dropped. “Who else’s are you?” 

“Well, you are the one sitting in my bedroom right now. I’ve never had any other girl in here.” 

“Mhm.” She hums in agreement. Her fingers stop flicking through the magazine. She pushes it aside and stands up. He gulps, watching as she approaches where he’s sitting, his back against the headboard, legs outstretched. He thought that maybe he had overstepped by mentioning the girl thing. He shuffles back more, sitting up straighter as she moves down to straddle his lap. Taking his cigarette from his fingers. She puts on her own mouth, his eyebrows raised. A comment about her 'it's too early’ rant on the tip of his tongue. He decides against saying anything when he realises her chest is inches from his face. 

“Am i going to have to remind you who you belong too?” She asks. He’s shocked for a second, his hands staying by his side. He snaps out of it, slowly bringing his hands up to wrap around her, his palms resting on her bum. 

“Hmm,” He leans in to press his lips to her chest, just above the v neck of her shirt. “I think you might have too. I seem to have forgotten.” His stomach swirls in anticipation at the sparkle in her eyes. 

September. The Hideout. Always busy on a Saturday. Eddie is leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. Looking down at his feet, dirty reeboks. Kicking stones around on the ground. The stars twinkled above him,

loud music behind him. The brick wall was cold underneath his shoulder. He looks up when a pair of equally dirty converse appear next to his own shoes. She doesn't say anything, just reaches into his pocket for his lighter. 

“Are you gonna stay?” She asks, looking up at the sky. 

“What’s the point? Our set sucked.” He’s miserable, she can tell. 

“No it didn’t.” She says softly, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear. His gorgeous side profile glowing in the light. He scoffs, doesn’t believe her. “I’m not lying, you’re always good.” 

“I disagree.” He mumbled, inhaling the last of the smoke before throwing the glowing end on the ground. She smiles, her hand still in his hair. Resting on the side of his head, he leans into her hand and brings his own up to grasp it. “I’m tired anyway.” 

“Yeah, and it’s a saturday. You should be taking me on a romantic date.” She smirks.

“Bringing you to my show, for free, may I add - you don’t think that’s romantic?”

She turns to look back inside the venue, pretends to think about what he said. He laughs - “No.” She finally says, reaching for him to pull him close. “There isn’t any romance around here.”

“Oh, baby,” He whispers, his hands grasping onto her waist. “I think I disagree.” He leans down to kiss her, sloppily and messy. She laughed against his lips, a small ew whispered between kisses. “C’mon.” He mumbles, his hands on her waist guiding her to walk in front of him, delivering a small smack to her ass. “I wanna get you home, then I'll show you what romance is.”

October. “Oh, that’s funny!” She laughs sarcastically, Eddie cringes at the venom in her voice. 

“What? You think you’re special or something?” He retorts. “I can’t just cancel shit for you all the time!”

“All the time? I just wanted one night, Eddie!” 

He knows she's right, he had promised her. But he just can’t admit that he was wrong, a lifelong habit and burden he’d possessed. He’s struggling to keep his cool. Her standing opposite him, he can practically feel the anger radiating off of her. She stares at him for a moment, when she doesn’t get a reply, she sighs. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, a pause when she swings open the door. It’s raining, fucking hard. Eddie can see the conflict, he almost smiles - thinking he’d won. That she’d stay. His smile falls as she walks outside into the rain, slamming his front door. The whole trailer feels like it shakes. 

“Shit.” He mumbles, he rushes to the door but pauses - hand on the handle. He debates letting her go, but decides he isn’t that stubborn. And it’s dark. 

“Hey!” He yells at her, she’s already pretty far away. “Come back!”

He may not be stubborn enough to let her go, but she is stubborn enough to walk all the way to her house in the dark and rain. So he moves fast, practically sprints until he’s a few steps behind her. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.” He says, speaking up to be heard over the rain hitting the pavement. 

“You’re the fucking idiot. I thought you were going to your stupid club?” She turns to face him, they’d only been outside for a minute or two but they were both already soaked.

He ignores her comment, he’s decided they aren’t going to fight anymore tonight. “Come back inside.” She pulls her arms away when he reaches for it, trying to walk away. He’s stronger than her, so he stops her from walking by grabbing both her shoulders as gently as he can. He can feel she’s shivering. 

“Get off, Eddie!” She says, a little too loudly. God, he hopes none of the neighbours are watching this. 

“Come back, you’re not walking in this fucking rain. And I'm not driving in it either. So come back, for tonight. I’ll sleep on the damn couch if that’s what you want and I'll take you home tomorrow.” 

“No.” She tries to walk away from him again. But she turns to look at him sympathetically when he says “Please?”

He looks pathetic, wet hair, wet clothes. His bangs stuck to his skin. She knows she doesn’t look any better. She sighs, ripping away from him again but this time to turn and walk back towards the trailer. The warmth of the inside is familiar and welcoming. Eddie steps in behind her, both their clothes dripping water onto the floor. She’s the first to laugh. Now he’s a whole new level of confused. He just stares at her. 

“You look stupid.” She laughs, he looks adorable. In all honesty. But she doesn’t want to say that right now.

“Do you think you look any better?” He’s laughing now too. 

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, by the way.” She says quietly.

“Oh, gee, thanks.” He laughs. She watches as he makes his way to the bathroom, the sound of his shower running. “You know, i’ve never tested it out but, i’m pretty sure this is big enough for two people.”

“Hmm,” She pretends to think, joining him in the bathroom doorway. “It might be, if we stand close enough together.”

“Oh we will be.” He says stepping into the bathroom. “We need to be close enough for me to apologise properly.” 

November. ‘The sun, the moon and the stars are you.’ Eddie had no idea what that meant. But it made his heart twist. It made his stomach flip and tears form in his eyes. The next line, ‘You, me and everything. Always.’  This is what he’d been doing for days. Skimming the page, the note she’d left on his bedside table. Eddie never understood poetry.

“Are you still reading that thing?” 

He looks up towards her voice from where he’s seated on his bed, she’s watching him expectantly. 

“It was only supposed to be fun, Ed’s.  Don’t read too much into it.” 

He doesn’t believe her. He knows he’s made her nervous by constantly reading and re reading the note. He’s made her think he didn’t like it, maybe she even thought that he thought it was weird. It was the total opposite - he was going to keep it forever. He put the note down and reached out his hands. She walked forward, taking his hands and letting him pull her between his legs. 

“I love you.” He says against her skin after brimming her knuckles up to his lips. She says it back - he’ll never tire of it. “you’re mine.” He whispers into the skin of her wrist as she cups his face. She hums in agreement, admiring him. 

“Say it.” He says. glancing up at her with a grin. She smirks back, pulling her hands from his grasp. Resting her fingertips on his jaw to tilt his head back. Fully looking at her, his mouth falls slightly open. 

“I’m yours, Ed’s.” She leans down, their lips brushing. He breathes out - shuddering. 

“Forever?” He teases. Still grinning at her. The pure love in his eyes makes her heart feel like it’s going to leave her chest and fly away. She knows he means it, and so does she. 

“Forever.” She replies. Not being able to resist the love sick look in his eyes any longer - succumbing to the feeling and leaning down to kiss him properly. Drowning in him - his love. She manouvers herself onto his lap, her legs caging him. He leans back onto his elbows, admiring the sight of her sitting on his thighs. She’s above him again, her necklace hanging down in front of his face. Her lips found his again, a peck before travelling to his jaw. He moans breathlessly before asking - “Will you stay tonight?” His hands come up to grip her ass - pleading. 

“I really shouldn’t.” She whispers against his ear. Excitement brewing in his stomach as her warm breath washes over his skin. He massages the skin in his hands mumbling a please.

“Do you get upset when I leave?” She asks. She wants to hear him say it. She selfishly wants to hear him beg her to stay, hear him tell her that he misses her when she leaves. He understands what she wants and smirks, his voice lowering - raspy, when he says. “Oh baby, of course I do. I cry when you leave.” 

“Cry?” She giggles. 

“Well,” He pulls her ass forwards, her centre brushing against the bulge beginning to form in his jeans. He doesn’t miss the way she bites her lip as the denim pushes against her. “I cry on the inside.” 

She laughs, his favourite sound, and sits back to take off her shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, his eyes going straight to her chest. His hands squeezing her hips. 

“Well,” She says, leaning back down to him. “Then I guess I'll have to stay.” 

December. Eddie, scanning the shelves in a grocery store. List in hand.  “He should settle down and find himself a wife! That's what he needs!” He overhears a woman say, a conversation between two friends. He had always hated societal norms. He had kind of made it his reputation, anyone would tell you. The whole settling down thing had never been on the cards for him. Until now - until he met her. As cheesy as that sounds, he hated saying it. Hated even thinking about it, the fear that would stir inside of him felt like no other. 

Although, he feels that he doesn’t have to marry her. He wants too, god he wants too. The thought of calling her his wife did something to him. But, he doesn’t feel like he needs a ring to prove how much he loves her, he already knows neither of them is going to leave. And he knows that she knows as well. 

He leaves the aisle he’s currently on, wondering where she had run off too. As soon as he sees the sign pointing to the Christmas decoration aisle, a small smile forms on his lips. He was right, and when he turned the corner he saw her further down the aisle. The cart was significantly fuller than when she had left him. Christmas cards and wrapping paper piled on top of their groceries. Some colourful lights there too. 

“No tinsel.” He says as he approaches her, a small laugh when she jumps at his voice. “I hate that stuff.” 

She laughs before saying, “You need this!” He follows where she's pointing, to one of those small trees that are made for desktops. 

“Do I need it? For what?” 

“For your bedroom! It’ll look so cute.” She’s smiling so big, he feels like he can’t say no. Honestly, he doesn't want a tree in his room. But he can almost see the way her face will light up whenever she walks in and sees it. He can’t miss that. He would never deny her, so he says, “Okay.” And dumps the box into the cart. Just as he predicted, she smiles so big that he can’t help but smile back. 

“What’s next?” She asks, pointing to the list in his hand. 

“Uhm,” He scans the paper, her adorable handwriting clouding his mind, “I think we got everything.” 

“Are you just saying that because you wanna leave?” She asks, hands on her hips. “Because this is very important stuff.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes!” She genuinely looks shocked. “It’s Saturday, Ed’s. It’s movie night. These snacks are very, very important.”  

“Well, as long as we have popcorn, I think we’re good to go.” His eyes scan the multiple bags she had thrown in. 

“You can never have enough.” She says, watching his eyes scan the cart. Predicting what he was going to say. 

“I think you can, actually.” He mumbles, more to himself, as she passes him with the cart. 

“What do you want for christmas?” She asks him, surprising him.

“Nothing.” He wants to avoid this conversation, he hates receiving gifts. He already has hers, in a little box next to his bed. In the draw buried underneath his heavy metal magazines, somewhere he knows she won’t look. 

“Don’t be stupid. I’m gonna get you something, and it’s gonna be great.” 

“Oh yeah?” He says, his eyes travelling to her neck. Thinking about how the necklace in the box will look. He had spent a lot of money and got some funny looks while buying it. So he hopes she’ll love it. 

“Yeah. I know what I'm gonna buy.” She says. He’s so observant that he doesn’t miss the way her eyes move to his hands. New rings perhaps? He’d actually love that. He’d been wearing these for a while. “And i’m gonna come see you on christmas day, you and Wayne.” 

“You don’t need to do that.” He says, wrapping an arm around her as they walk. Christmas had never been a big deal to him, he’d never really done the family christmas thing. 

“Of course I do.” She smiles.

“Yeah, you're right.” He says, “When else would I give you your amazing present?” 

“You could give it to me now?” She smirks. “Or I could just search for it.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” He gasps. “You love surprises.” 

Another thing that was so different about them, but worked so well. He hated surprises, but this one he couldn’t wait for. He knows how well she knows him, and he’s honestly excited to see what she buys. A year ago, he might have been upset. He always thought he didn’t deserve gifts, he didn’t deserve someone knowing her as well as she did. But she had made that all go away. For once, he was excited about the holidays, excited about Christmas day. One thing he was also excited for was the future. He couldn’t wait to be surprised by her forever. He couldn’t wait to love her forever, he couldn’t wait to be loved - forever. 

[sergeantxrogers]

| sanctified |

Summary: Bucky Barnes’ holy grail and safe haven are your body and soul, and after getting a taste of them, he finally knows what it means to be a sinner. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut!! (switch!Bucky, choking, light spanking, orgasm control, slight exhibitionism), some crying, confessions of love baby

____________________

Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. Sure, there were girls he’d go out with, press a little smooch to their lips just out of principle, girls he’d walk home after a trip to the fair, girls that would follow him around Brooklyn watching his every move in the hopes that they would catch his eye and that he would give them more than just a polite smile. 

Bucky Barnes used to be a ladies’ man, girls batting their lashes at him when he and Steve passed by on their way to Bucky’s place for dinner, throwing themselves at his feet any chance they’d get because they wanted to be something special to him, they wanted to mean something to him, and Bucky always rejected anything serious with grace. 

And then he fell from the train. And he hadn’t seen a girl his age for almost 50 years after that. He had forgotten what it was like to be smiled at, to be searched for in a crowd, for someone to call out his name - his real name, not Soldat. 

He had gotten used to the harsh orders and cruel insults, the flirty, boyish Bucky that winked at the ladies and guided them during dances hidden and stashed away somewhere deep inside him, dormant and asleep. He was fine with being ignored after everything that happened with Steve, and the fall of HYDRA, and Shuri “fixing” his brain. Fine with staying in the shadows when he didn’t need to be out of them, fine with avoiding people and missing their eye, slipping through the streets of New York like a cat, his only goal to get from point A to point B.

Until he met you. 

You, the part-time waitress that worked at the restaurant he frequented with Mr. Nakajima. Bucky took a liking to you the second he saw you. The do no harm, take no shit attitude that every fiber of your being seemed to be dipped in intrigued him. He liked watching you work, multitasking between orders and receipts and drinks and money and all things in between. It was fascinating to him, especially the side-eyed glances you’d give him with an accompanying little smirk whenever he sat down at the counter with his older friend. Intriguing you were, so much so that he quickly learned what days you came in, and what days you didn’t: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 

Yori kept pushing him to ask out the “pretty waitress” at the restaurant, and though she was pretty, she wasn’t the one he had his eye on. 

“You should go out with her, she’s a nice girl,” Yori’s soft voice would mutter into his ear, and Bucky would give him a smile and a shake of his head.

If only you knew, Yori. If only you knew, he thought. 

The flirting started simple enough: a sly smile as you greeted him when he walked in. An “accidental” brush of the hand when you’d hand him his third beer. Biting your lip whenever he called your name out to pay. It was simple enough that Bucky’s elderly friend stayed oblivious on the Wednesdays they’d go out for lunch together. 

And truly, Bucky had no reason to come to the restaurant three times a week, twice without the company of Mr. Nakajima. No reason but the sight of you, and it was enough to keep him drawn in, keep him coming and throwing his money on food he never ate and beers he downed without a second thought because he was so enamored by the way your eyes glimmered whenever you gave him a smile. 

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays went by and by until he started dropping his gaze below your neck, pants growing uncomfortably tight at the way you’d bend over to get a new roll of receipts under the counter, or the small sliver of stomach he would notice beneath your shirt whenever you’d reach up for a glass. 

And it wasn’t like you were oblivious either; on the contrary, you stared at the door on the days you knew he’d come in, waiting anxiously for him to come and sit down just so you could feel his presence. It wasn’t that long before you were asking your coworkers to cover you for a few minutes just so you could lean against the counter by him to chat (and give him a peak of something special, but that was besides the point). 

Chats soon turned into jokes and full-blown conversations, with Bucky staying behind long after closing time just to talk to you about anything and everything, from his past to the way you wore your hair on that particular day. 

Which is how you found yourself in your current little predicament. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” you hissed, slapping your hand against the counter beneath you. 

Bucky’s hand travelled up your back, entangling in your hair and pulling your head back, your back arching against him. 

“What happened, baby?” he cooed into your ear, thrusts relentless and never faltering. You whined in response, swallowing back a heavy breath as his lips trailed against your shoulder.

“So... so good,” you managed, and you felt him smirk against your skin. 

His hand left your hair, snaking around to the front to wrap around your neck loosely, and a chill ran down your spine. 

11:47 p.m. and an hour and a half past closing time, shades only half shut on the glass door of the entrance, the only light in the room coming from the streetlight outside and the digital clock on the wall behind you. 

Heavy lidded eyes traveled to watch the door, only a few feet away from where Bucky was pounding persistently into you, your skirt flipped up and panties around your ankles. The fact that anybody walking by would just have to look through the blinds to see you getting railed made you breathless.

Bucky’s low hum floated into your ears, hot breath fanning against your cheek as he rolled his hips to hit that spot that made you clench around him. 

“I’m- I’m gonna-”

Your stuttering made him slow his hips, and in return you whimpered.

“Gonna what? Gonna cum? Hm?”

You huffed at his condescending tone, and he slowed down even more, to the point where you could feel him dragging along your walls, hot and heavy. 

“What if I just-”

Bucky stopped moving his hips completely, and tears pricked at the back of your eyes as your chest heaved, his grip tightening only slightly around your throat.

“- don’t let you?” he finished, pulling out almost completely then, and you groaned in frustration. You felt the knot that had been forming in your stomach loosen, the tingling in your legs fading, and you furrowed your brows in a desperate plea for release.

“P-please,” you mewled. “Please, please, I need to, I have to-”

Bucky seemed to be satisfied with your begging, because he thrusted himself into you again, bottoming out with the slap of skin on skin and your quiet, breathy moans being the only sounds in the restaurant. Each thrust brought out a moan from your lips, a layer of sweat covering your skin. The first tear left your waterline and rolled down your cheek as he pressed down harder against you, the edge of the counter digging into your hip bones deliciously. 

“More,” you whispered, eyes clenched shut as your head went dizzy with pleasure. 

Bucky obliged, nipping at your neck as his hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat travelled downwards to lay a slap to your ass, and you hissed at the sting. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, eyes rolling to the back of your head and legs going weak. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s body holding you upright against the counter, you were certain you would’ve collapsed. Warmth took over your belly as Bucky groaned in your ear, cumming inside you, and he let go of your neck, allowing you to drop your head down in an attempt to catch your breath. 

After he had pulled out of you carefully, helping you pull your panties back up, you turned around, a lazy smile on your lips as you leaned back against the counter on your elbows. Bucky gave you a skeptical look, smirk crawling onto his face as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“What is it?”

You shrugged, tugging at the hem of his shirt to straighten it out a bit. 

“Nothing,” you said mindlessly, smile only growing larger.

He chuckled in amusement, grabbing your hand in his. 

“What is it?”, he repeated, and you sighed dramatically.

“Well, I mean...,” you started, eyes travelling around behind him in false apprehension. “I hope you know this means you gotta take me out now, Barnes.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, the grin on his face only brightening. 

“Alright, I promise I will.”

____________________

And Bucky kept his promise. 

Five days after your initial hook-up, Bucky came buzzing at your apartment building entrance, bouquet of flowers in his hands, smile on his face. 

“Wow, Barnes, I didn’t know you were into romantic gestures,” you teased, taking the flowers from his hands. He shrugged, shoving them into his pockets as he walked alongside you. 

“I wasn’t. Not really, never used to be.”

He glanced at you as he finished his sentence, but you were too preoccupied with the smell of fresh blossoms to notice the smile playing on his lips. 

“Things change, I guess,” he muttered, and you grinned at him. 

“So, where are we going?”

“I told you already,” he said with a teasing shake of his head. 

“It’s a surprise.”

____________________

Three official dates later and Bucky finally came up to your apartment. 

Albeit, a bit hesitant, because it was well past midnight and “I don’t wanna wake up your neighbors with my huge footsteps, doll.”

It took some convincing but he finally agreed to come up and sit with you a while. You said you would show him your favorite books, introduce him to some new literature he could catch up on. And you definitely planned on doing that, but things with Bucky have a funny way of playing out differently than you expect. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, doll-”

Humming in amusement, you smiled down at him, straddled around his thighs.

Your fingers gripping his hair, you held his head so his eyes were level with yours, and you saw the struggle in them as your other hand teased his cock through his boxers with gentle fingers. 

“What is it, baby?” you pouted, tugging harder on his hair, and he winced at the feeling. 

“Stop teasing,” he hissed through clenched teeth, and you feigned a disappointed frown. 

“Now that’s not very nice of you.”

Bucky shut his eyes quickly in a split second of frustration, and when he opened them again, you noticed his pupils were blown wide, staring into yours.

After a deep sigh, his demeanor changed, lids heavy and lips swollen from the bites and kisses you attacked them with previously. 

“Please...,” he said in a whisper. “Please don’t tease me.”

His words brought a smile to your face, and you pretended to think about it, tilting your head to the side slightly. 

“Alright, pretty boy, since you asked so nicely.”

You punctuated your sentence with a roll of your hips against his, and a soft whimper left his lips when your bare pussy rolled over his dick. 

Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, and you pulled them down, teasingly slow, Bucky lifting his hips a bit to make it easier for you. He breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of release, and you felt your breath quicken at the sight of his cock, heavy and hard and begging to be touched. 

“Please.”

It came out quietly, desperately, as he stared into your eyes, and you almost smirked at the way he looked near tears. You hummed in adoration, leaning your head down somewhat to press a kiss to his lips. 

“So needy...,” you muttered into his mouth as you rolled your hips upwards, the tip of his cock gliding through your wet slit, and his hips bucked up involuntarily. 

He whined against your lips, nipping at the bottom one when you sank down onto his cock without warning. A sigh left your body when you felt him stretch you out, filling you out completely. You clenched around him, trying to adjust, and he groaned, forehead dropping against your chest. 

No matter how many times he’d been inside you, you always need time to adjust, and you would wait. Oh, you would wait hours if you needed to, because once you got a taste of him, that was it. You were ruined for other men. 

And Bucky could spend hours inside you, warm and wet and perfectly made for him, your body wrapped around his. All you had to do was ask him, and he would fall to his knees in worship. 

You sat on him, just like that, for... seconds? Minutes? An hour, maybe? Bucky couldn’t tell because it didn’t really matter to him. His mind was clouded with the feeling of you tight around his throbbing cock, and your lips on his neck and jaw, and your fingers in his hair. 

Bucky looked up at you, almost glowing with sex and gratification, and he swore to himself he would pray to you, pray for you, pray with you, every single day for the rest of his life. How he went a century without the absolution of your touch was entirely beyond him, but he knew he wouldn’t let you go now that he had you in his grasp. 

You started moving, slowly, teasingly, and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. Sighs and pants left your lips at the feeling of being full, stuffed to the brim, and it took everything Bucky had in himself not to grab your hips and absolutely destroy you himself. 

“Oh, God,” you panted into his ear, rolling your hips, chasing your pleasure as Bucky’s chest heaved with labored breaths. 

It was pure torture, in the best way. His eyes watched the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, your lips slightly parted. Watched your hands search for purchase on his body, anywhere they could find, as you clenched tighter around him. 

If there was a place he had to choose to stay for the rest of eternity, it was here. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, almost subconsciously, and your movements faltered only slightly. 

Biting your lip, your eyes searched his face, and found only honesty. Bucky’s hands came up to rest on your thighs, fingers digging into them, the contrast of one warm hand and one cold hand sending shockwaves down your spine. 

“I love you more,” you whispered, pulling him in by his cheeks for a short kiss. 

Your pushes and pulls, ups and downs, gasps and moans grew quicker, more incessant, and Bucky could tell by the way your walls fluttered quickly around his cock that you were about to cum. 

____________________

He laid there, next to you. 

He laid there a long time, fingers tracing shapeless patters along your arm as you slept, and his eyes studied your face.

No, Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. There were girls he’d go out with, girls he would smooch. Girls he would walk home and girls he would smile at. None of them ever gave him the feeling he was running after, always thinking it was right there but always just out of reach. The feeling you gave him, like he was underwater but could still breathe. Like he was on fire but cold as ice, like he never breathed properly before he met you and now, after getting a taste of you, he would never be able to breathe properly without you again. 

He laid there, body heavy and mind satisfied, and he understood. He understood why Adam ate the apple, why Orpheus turned around. He understood why Sparta started a war for Helen, and he understood why Romeo drank the poison. 

He would do it all, sin and be punished a million times over if it meant he would get a glimpse of you every day. 

____________________

TAGLIST:

@dreamsley​ @a-ngeli-que​ @mindyoshiii​ @agirlinherhead​ @s-katergorl​ @ace-27749​ @leyannrae​ @tailsoflightning​