#i said i would share spicy takes and here they are

[himbodruid]

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals 😘

Midnight Warmth

What happens when Sylus brings you to one of his remote countryside homes for a long weekend?

An expansion on the Midnight Warmth Secret Times

Sylus x Reader

Soft Sylus -:- he loses control -:- you get no sleep

Intended for readers 18+. MINORS DNI

Fic Master List

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The week had been a long and hard one, full of ups and downs. Disappointment was high near the end when your team had failed to gather intel on illegal protocore operations, the lead having been bogus from the start.

You were just glad for four glorious days off of work, days you would get to spend with Sylus. The moment he learned you had a long weekend, he planned to whisk you away to one of the ranch houses he owned out in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by nothing but fields and forests, you were excited to watch the frosty April sunrises with the horses grazing in the fields.

The moment you arrived at the house, though, exhaustion pulled at your bones. The drive had been longer than you expected, and the fact you had to navigate the winding country roads on your own didn’t help. Sylus told you he wouldn’t be there until later in the night, to make yourself comfortable and choose whichever room you wanted. He’d planned on making the drive with you, but something came up last minute that needed to be taken care of.

You hauled your bags in and plopped them right onto the floor of the first room you found. The decor was quite similar to Sylus’s base, but you didn’t really have time to take it in before you were sprawled across the bed and nodding off.

You awoke sometime later, then the sun had set, to Sylus gently brushing hair out of your face with the back of his knuckles. You smiled and stretched, allowing him to pull you up and into a hug. His riding leathers were still cool from the evening breeze, and you rubbed your face on the buttery leather surface

“Sorry I’m late, love,” he said. You didn’t even know how long you’d been asleep, but you were glad to be wrapped in his warm embrace all the same.

“It’s okay, you’re here now,” you say, sleep still evident in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

His lips met the crown of your hair before he released you. He walked over and gathered your luggage, teasing you about how much you’d brought for a simple four day getaway. You defended yourself by claiming you had to be prepared for everything.

“Well, are you prepared to share a room with me, or did you mean to take this one?”

You could feel your face flush and you took a closer look at the room. A wall lined with everything music should have been your first clue, or even the beautiful console record player that was set up on an adjacent wall. That explained why the bedding held a faint hint of Sylus’s spicy scent and why you were lulled to sleep so quickly.

“Honestly, I just crashed in the first room I found. I can take a different room, it’s not a problem!”

You made to move towards your bags, but you were blocked by Sylus holding them away from you. Looking up at him, you quirked a brow in confusion. You made a grab at them again, only for him to take a step back.

“Oh, no, love. You chose this room and now it’s yours. It’s also your decision on if you want me to stay or if you want me elsewhere.”

This playfully mischievous side of Sylus had become more prominent the last couple of months, but his words still made you pause. At the base, you had your own rooms just a few doors down from Sylus, and any other dwelling he owned it was the same story. You’d snuck into his rooms more times than you could count, but…

“Could you…stay?” You asked timidly. You’d never fully shared a single space with him, and the bed was large enough to fit a horse between the two of you if really necessary. Sylus smiled that crooked half-smirk of his and gathered up your things once again. You plopped onto the bench at the foot of the bed, watching as he swiftly unpacked your luggage and put them away in the closet and dresser. It was such a domestic task that all you could do was watch dumbly as the universe’s most wanted criminal just…neatly folded or hung your clothes. Existential was too mild of a word for what you were feeling right then.

When he was done, he removed his jacket and also made sure to hang that in the large closet by the door. You didn’t realize you’d let your eyes trail down his broad back to his leather-clad ass until he turned around and chuckled. Your face flamed, and you quickly looked away.

“Come, Kitten, the cook should have something prepared for us by now.”

You were grateful that he didn’t tease you for getting caught staring. You couldn’t help it, though. His clothes were tailored to fit his athletic frame to perfection, almost like they were just painted on. The black shirt he wore was stretched taut across his shoulders and clung to him straight down to his narrow waist and hips. And those damnable leather pants that looked like they barely contained him with the zippered panels on each side of his- you shook yourself, forcing your eyes away from his ass again. His chuckle let you know that he was very well aware you were checking him out, but he chose not to comment.

Something must be wrong with you. Sure, he was an attractive man, but you’d never been so caught up in him to openly stare at him like that before. You were usually much more reserved, so you decided to blame it on the atmosphere and the idea of being relatively alone with him for the whole weekend. Or maybe you were just touch-starved and horny, not that you would ever admit to it.

Dinner held a vast array of food you loved, and you were suspicious that he called ahead to make sure everything was prepared to your exact liking. You chose not to press the matter, instead dancing happily at each delicious bite.

Dinner ended with Sylus teasing you about how you managed to stay so small while eating so much. You flexed your meager biceps at him, spouting some nonsense about being a hunter keeping you fit. It wasn’t fully a lie, but a lot of the job was desk work along with field work.

After dinner, Sylus took you on a quick tour of the main house, explaining that the property was actually a housing complex of people he employed to keep it running. A large barn also rested on the property, housing the finest horseflesh Sylus could find. His prized stallion, an Akhal-Teke, also resided there. You listened to his gravelly voice with rapt attention, adding things to your mental list of all the things you wanted to do.

Even through the excitement, you found yourself dozing off when you sat to watch a movie with Sylus in front of a crackling fire. He lounged on the chaise section of the sofa and your head rested in his lap. He bundled you in the soft throw blanket that lay across the back of the sofa. His large hand rested on your shoulder, letting his fingers play in your hair, and the feeling of safety was so immense that you had no qualms about napping.

The movie reached some sort of crescendo that startled you awake. You stretched, playing it off as though it hadn’t scared you. Turning your gaze upward, you saw Sylus watching you instead of the film. He sat with his arm resting on the sofa arm, cheek palmed, and a painfully tender expression on his face while he played with your hair.

“What?” He said with a smile, swirling a strand of your hair around a finger on his free hand. “You’re still awake?”

“Whaddya mean ‘still’? I was asleep but now it’s too loud,” you grumbled.

“You’re the one who asked me to put on a movie to help you fall asleep. And now you’re complaining it’s too loud?” He said with a chuckle, gently tugging that strand of hair. “You’re fussy, Kitten.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and sat up, snuggling closer to him until the both of you were stretched on the chaise. His arm came around your shoulder and you rested your head against his chest. You listened to the steady thrum of his heart, an unnamed emotion swelling in your chest. You were really here, with him.

“Do you really like this place?” He murmured against your hair as he placed a gentle kiss there.

“Mhm, I’m so excited that I can’t sleep.” He chuckled at your statement, seeing as you had napped twice since arriving.

“You're spoiled rotten, that's for sure.”

“Only because you spoil me,” you say, scrunching your nose. You fall into companionable silence, still having no clue what was happening in the movie. It appeared to be some sort of vampire romance flick, but you couldn’t focus with the way his fingers drifted across your skin.

“Stay here a few more days,” he murmured, suddenly. “Extend your vacation. After all, it’s just you and me.”

You thought about it some, on the verge of agreeing. After all, you never took time off, and you had a hefty cache of vacation hours built up. You would have to call Captain Jenna and request more time, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

“We’ll see. But I already know what I wanna do tomorrow!”

“Tell me,” he said softly.

“You’re really gonna trust me with the planning?”

He chuckled, “I'll see what you’re planning first, and then decide whether I'll come.”

You shifted, turning so that you could face him a little more fully. The action put you in a position that may as well have you laying on him, and you could feel a blush slowly creep across your face. Sylus seemed unphased, though, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

“How about…picking strawberries?” You threw out the idea without much thought to the frost that still greeted the mornings.

“Sure, why not,” he said with a smile. “There’s a farm nearby.”

“You’ll have to teach me horseback riding, of course.” You were conscious of his face getting closer to yours, his hands chastely exploring you.

“Okay. We have a racetrack in the back,” he said. Something in his voice made you want to shiver. His tone dropped and his usual rasp was more noticeable. “What else?”

You mindlessly rattled off other things you wanted to do. You’d made a whole list before even leaving for the country, and admittedly it was…a lot.

Sylus chuckled and mirrored your thoughts. “That’s a lot.”

“I just…want to spend time with you. As much as I can.”

“Your words are coated in honey,” he rumbled. “But if you’re tired and complain halfway through…”

He rolled you halfway underneath him, so that you were now laid down on the chaise and he laid on his side beside you, propped up on an elbow with his head resting in his palm. He leaned in, caressing your cheek. “I wont accept that.”

You knew your face was flaming. You couldn’t help skirting your gaze from his eyes to those perfect cupid’s bow lips that hovered entirely too close. Huffing out a heated breath, you dragged the blanket over your head in embarrassment.

“Don’t hide under the blanket, Kitten.” He tugged at the blanket, and you let him pull it away from your face. “I remember everything you said.”

“I’m not hiding,” you said. Your voice was too bright and awkward, making the lie obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I’m going to sleep.”

“But your eyes are still open.” He flashed that devilish half-smirk that you loved. “Can you fall asleep while looking at my face?”

“Hmm. Maybe if you sleep with me.” The words escaped you before you could think about their meaning, and you were glad he seemingly chose to ignore it.

“Did you forget what time it is, hm? For me, the day has just begun.” He heaved a sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Since you can’t fall asleep, I'll tell you a story.”

“A story?” You raised a brow and smiled. You rolled to lay on your side, giving him your full undivided attention. The crackling of the fire added to the ambiance of your shared intimacy, and you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

“It took place in this…old castle. Tuck yourself in, close your eyes,” he began. You pulled the blanket up and draped it over the both of you, and then you obediently closed your eyes. The lilting rumble of his voice would be enough to lull you to sleep any other time, but the air crackling between you felt too charged.

“Once upon a time, this castle was shrouded in a heavy fog. Every year, there would be a day when the fog disappeared. Only then can one truly see the castle.”

“Hmm, and how did you hear of this castle?” You opened your eyes, needing to see him as he told the story.

“An old man who used to live nearby told me about it,” he chuckled.

“Is this a true story?”

He quirked a brow at your absurdity, gifting you with another warm smile. “How am I supposed to know if the story’s real or make-believe?

“Anyway, a girl found herself lost in the woods. She was lucky to stumble upon the castle when the fog was gone. She knocked on the door.”

“And did a prince answer the door?” You could feel yourself getting lost in him and needed to ground yourself.

“I’m afraid not. Sorry,” he said. “The castle was empty, so the girl decided to live there. Then, one day, as she was getting ready to sleep, the fireplace suddenly roared to life.”

His sentence was punctuated by a shift in the fireplace and a series of crackling sparks being released. The sudden sound startled you and you gripped his hand.

“Why are you holding my hand so tightly,” he chuckled. “Relax. It’s not scary.”

You moved closer to him anyway and he chuckled.

“How is this not an excuse to cuddle me,” he teased.

“So what if it is,” you grumble in reply. “Just continue the story.”

“The girl took a deep breath, turned around and saw- Yes, the window was open.”

You scrunched up your nose at the unexpected turn. He grinned and played with your hair while watching the expressions play on your fact with rapt interest.

“You seem to be disappointed. I told you it wasn’t scary, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, maybe she’d see a vampire. Perfect for an old creepy castle surrounded by fog.” He was leaning into you and you were acutely aware of the heat his body radiated. You swallowed but found your throat dry.

“Hm, I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, bringing a strand of your hair to his nose. “The movie we were watching did the same thing. The girl had walked into a vampire’s castle. Hmmh, come to think of it…the vampire’s castle and this castle look similar.”

He pulled away slightly, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“You kinda look like a vampire,” you say with a mischievous smile.

“How so?” His hands roamed over you again, and it took effort to concentrate on his question.

“Well, you have pale skin and red eyes. And you seem to be…very active at night,” you murmur as you allow your hand to flatten against his neck. He moved his chin up a little, letting you explore him.

“I do sound like one when you put it that way. What else?”

You poked his cheek. “You also like to bully people.”

“Bully people? How does a vampire bully someone, exactly?” He leaned over you again, imposing and crowding your space. His lips hovered so close to yours in a silent threat, only proving your point.

“Like this?” He asked. His lips descended, and you leaned up to receive him, but his face diverted at the last second. Instead, he buried his face against your neck.

“Let me…sniff your neck.”

You let your head fall back and your hand that rested on his neck slid to the back of his head. Your gasp rose to mingle with the sounds of the fire.

“Mmmh,” he moaned. “Your scent…I want it.”

He pushed you back into the chaise, rolling on top of you. You became aware of every inch of him that touched you. His knee wedged between your thighs, and it took far more effort than you cared to admit to not rub yourself on him. Your arms wrapped around broad shoulders and your hands met at the back of his head to touch his feather soft silvery strands.

“I’ll just…nibble this,” he murmured against your neck before his tongue found your pulse. Teeth scraped against your skin and you couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped. You tilted your chin to give him better access. But then he pulled away.

“Is that it?” He asked, lowering his lips to capture yours for a moment. His thigh pressed more firmly into the apex of yours, and you couldn’t help but to suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he growled. “Look me in the eye, answer me.”

You couldn’t answer him, you were far too focused on keeping your body still instead of squirming against him. His eyes left yours, searching out where he’d bitten you, looking to see if a mark rose there. A self-satisfied grin on his face told you there was one.

“Was I too rough? Is this what they call bullying?”

“You did it on purpose,” you complained half-heartedly.

“You’re the one who said I looked like a vampire,” he chuckled. “And in the movie, the girl got marked right…here.”

His finger brushed against the opposite side of your neck, tapping your thundering pulse with those damnably elegant fingers of his. Your breaths came in short bursts, his simple touches igniting your body. You thought you could feel his body reacting to yours, the length of him stiffening against your hip as he teased you.

“I want to leave a mark, too,” he murmured against your neck. And then he latched on, his mouth working at your skin in a way you knew would leave a hickey that would be visible for weeks. Your fingers tangled in his hair, the sensations of him sucking on your neck sending tremors through you. He pulled back and observed the purpling mark.

“Mmh. It’s still not enough,” he growled. He dipped his head again, using that hot mouth to create more marks on your neck and collarbone with satisfied growls. Your gasps and moans rose to mingle with his sounds. His hands roamed your torso, sneakily lifting your shirt until your breasts were bared to him.

“Why did you close your eyes? You’re finally going to bed?” He kissed the top swell of your breasts. “You don’t want to listen to my story anymore?”

Words wouldn’t come to you as he tugged down your bra so that he could swirl his tongue around your nipple.

“But, Kitten. I haven’t even gotten to the ending. The girl and the vampire were snuggled against each other.” He moved to tease your other breast. “It was a tranquil, midwinter day. Sitting in front of the fireplace…”

You gasped and arched into him when his teeth scraped against your nipple. Your every nerve was on fire and you wanted to push him away and pull him close at the same time. He crowded your every sense and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Hold me,” he murmured, “but not too hard. Save your strength for later.”

His mouth traveled further down, completely contradicting his command. He left a trail of biting kisses, pausing every so often to leave a mark.

“I t-though you wanted to help me sleep by telling the story,” you said, mind overwhelmed by the sensations he was eliciting.

“Yeah…but now I regret it. You’re not sleepy at all.” His gaze flicked back up to yours and his hand slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, into your underwear and you sucked in a breath when his fingers slid through your slick folds. “I need to try something else.”

In one swift motion, he had your shorts and underwear stripped from you and you laid bare beneath him save for your sweater and bra. He perched your legs on his shoulders, settling his face between your legs when he looked up at you with a predatory gaze.

“We won't wake up in time to…pick…strawberries in the morning.” His tongue found your clit and you gasped. He worked at you, licking, sucking, biting until you couldn’t hold back the sounds of your pleasure any longer. When it felt like you were about to fall over the edge, he stopped with a dark chuckle.

“The strawberries aren’t ripe…yet,” he said. He lifted himself from you, and your sound of protest died on your lips when you realized it was so that he could strip his own clothes from his body. He fell over you once more, his lips crashing against yours in a punishing kiss.

“I still have to ‘show’ you the rest of the story. You’ll get everything you could ever ask for. Just. Be. Patient.”

Sylus slipped his hips between your thighs once more, and you could feel the length of him resting hot and heavy against your pelvis. His mouth crashed into yours, coaxing you open so that his tongue could tangle with yours. His satisfied growl rumbled in his chest and you could feel it reverberate against you. Your knees came up to bracket his torso and you rolled your hips so that his cock slid against your folds.

You gave a self-satisfied chuckle when he moaned at the feel of you slick and ready for him. He silenced your mirth by positioning the tip at your entrance. Slow, so slow, he pushed into you. Pulled out, pushed back in. A pattern that left you brainless and trembling until he was finally sunk into you to the hilt.

“Fuck, Kitten, you feel so damn good,” he moaned against your neck. Your reply was drowned by a moan of your own when he pulled out only slightly and then slammed back into place. His cock dragged so deliciously against your walls, you could feel your climax building before he’d even done much.

He maintained that torturously slow pace, working you into a mess with his tongue and his hips. With every slow removal of his cock, he ground himself into you when pushed back in. You clenched around him automatically, as if your body didn’t want to let him leave your body.

“S-Sylus,” you whimpered into his mouth. He growled in response, his hips jerking forward.

“Again,” he said. At your sound of confusion, he added, “say my name again, Kitten.”

“Sylus,” you moaned against his neck. The sound of your desperation seemed to goad him on and he slammed into you.

“Again,” he commanded. He was getting rough, but your heart thundered with the excitement of him losing control.

“Sylus!” You cried, clinging to him as he plundered you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his pace picking up until the lewd sounds of your bodies joining rose with the crescendo of your moans. Your nails dug into his back as the last remnants of his control snapped and he relentlessly pounded into you. His hand gripped the back of the couch, the other one biting into your hip to give him leverage.

“Sylus,” you breathed, caressing his cheek with one hand and grasping his bicep with the other. He tilted his face into your touch, moaning explicitly against your palm with his eyes clenched shut. He was lost to the sensations of your body, to the sounds you made squirming beneath him, down to the scent of your love-making mixing with woodsmoke.

You hooked your ankles together at the back of his hips and a final clench of your walls around him was enough to throw him violently over the edge. He came with a guttural moan, a shout echoing into the room before he buried his face into your neck while he kept plunging into you with involuntary jerking movements. The twitching pulse of his cock flooding you with his cum brought you to the precipice with him. Your moans joined his as you clung desperately to him, your body milking him for every last drop.

He collapsed atop you, kissing and nuzzling every inch of skin that he could reach. His lips found yours in a tender kiss before he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes bounced between yours, an emotion you could only describe as love in his crimson gaze.

“Are you sleepy now?” He questioned with a cheeky grin. A grin you wiped off his face by clenching your walls on him. His cock twitched in anticipation inside you.

“Not in the least bit,” you replied, dragging his face back to yours.

As the night progressed, the two of you eventually made it to his bed, where you proceeded to explore each other further. You definitely did not get any sleep until the sun peeked over the distant mountains.

There was no way you’d be able to wake up in time to pick strawberries, even if they were in season.

[im-ovulating]

Alright, here me out. CollageStoner!Sero and bookworm!reader having grown close and blah blah blah he's casually smoking while yn is reading, but she's reading a spicy book and the main Male character has a Jacob's ladder and now, she's straight up curious as to how sex would work/feel with that piercing, and how convenient is it that Sero just happens to have said piercing 🤔

(A/n: You're speaking my language, Anon)

(Sorry for the delay; this was supposed to be out the other night but tumblr decided to play with my feelings and sap my inspiration to write...)

(Not proofread)

@bigboomboi @neon-gothicc

Word Count: 3,078

Summary- It helps that you have *such* a helpful best friend.

Warnings: Weed, Non-established Relationship, We believe in Hispanic Sero in this household (<- not warnings, it was just funny that it was "Warnings: Weed")

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Stoner! Sero x Fem! Reader: College Experimentation

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

You lounge against your bed, book in hand as Sero reclines against your pillows, joint in hand as he scrolls on his phone; there a haze of smoke filling the room, giving you a buzz. Neither of you speak, but it's a comfortable silence.

Your eyes dart across the pages as the main character's love interest backs her into a wall, his hand snaking its way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers dancing across the soft skin of her waist.

It's not until her hand is down his pants, tracing his length before coming to a stop at the feel of solid metal barbells that your head cocks to the side and you let out a soft, "huh…"

Sero glances up at the noise, peering over the mattress at your hunched over form. "Care to share, princessa?"

You blink, head shooting up with wide eyes as you quickly snap the book shut. Your head feels sick from the sudden movement; the secondhand high urging you to get your movements under control. "It's nothing."

Your cheeks burn as you try to gauge whether or not he was reading over your shoulder.

"Nothing, huh?" He braces his weight on his forearms so he can lean closer, the smoke of his joint curling around as your breaths disturb the air between you. "Then why did you close the book without this?" He holds your book mark up with two fingers, twirling it between his fingers before letting it flutter back down to the floor next to you.

"…" You're silent for a beat before you manage to mutter out, "I DNF'd it."

"You DNF'd it? After ranting to me just an hour ago about how much you loved it?"

He raises a brow at you. "C'mon, babes," you inhale sharply at the nickname, "When have I ever judged you for the dirty shit you read?"

He has a point, you regularly rant to him about the raunchy scenes in your books; why does it feel so different now that he's approaching you about it?

You meet his gaze before sighing in defeat. "Fine… Fine! You win."

"Her love interest has his dick pierced and I was just thinking about what that would even feel like - surely that would be uncomfortable to for the partner, right?" It's a metal bar rubbing against some of the most sensitive skin on the body, it has to rip at you and hurt, there's no way it doesn't.

Staring at you, a slow smirk grows on Sero's face as he thinks about something.

With a huff you start to turn away, "See? You're judg-" "Want to find out?"

"What?" You blink, freezing in place.

"I said -" he takes a drag before dropping down enough that your noses almost touch. He grips your jaw in a steady hand to gently press his fingers into your cheeks to pry your lips open; he exhales it slowly from his mouth, forcing you to shotgun the smoke. "- It's your lucky day. Do you want to find out?"

He leans back up, propping himself against your pillows again with a hand behind his head, ever the picture of tranquility. He lets one bent leg fall to the side, showcasing the bulge in his sweats, extra bumps adorn the side of the print that you can see and your mind finally puts two and two together.

"You have it?" You ask, twisting your body to face him. "Why did I not know this?"

"You want updates on my dick?" He teases. "Okay, fine: update numero uno - I'm hard and would like to do something about it. Update dos - you're curious and can do something about it; let's solve each other's problem, yeah?"

Staring at him with your mouth slightly agape, you think it over.

On the one hand, you have been friends with Hanta long enough that he's seen you naked, so you know it wouldn't be that awkward - hell, you're lounging in just an oversized tee and underwear and it's been fine all night; on the other, though, this could break the easy-going friendship you've built.

"Any day now, princessa. I won't be offended if you say 'no'."

You know he's not lying; you've turned him down before - a very drunken night during hazing week - and he has never once made it awkward…

Deciding Schrodinger can suck it, you make your move. This cat is alive and is going to stay that way.

"Okay," you say, getting up to join him on the bed.

He places the joint between hip lips before reaching to pull you into his lap. "Atta girl…" He murmurs, eyes already lidded as his hand slide up your shirt to trace your sides.

He rolls his hips up and you can feel the multiple metal balls drag against you even through the fabric separating you.

"You sure it won't hurt?"

"Haven't had a girl complain yet," Sero smirks, pulling the joint from his lips and holding it to yours. "Take a hit and relax, Amor, I'll take care of you."

The smoke curls in your lungs as you take his offer. You hold it until you feel a cough coming before exhaling. The effects don't hit yet, but the forced deep breath settles you.

Feeling a bit more confident, you rock your own hips down, letting out a sigh at the friction.

"Do you have a condom?" You ask, bracing your hands on his stomach as you grind down harder. His head is leaned back, watching you dry hump him with blown pupils.

"Backpack, smallest pocket on the front," he instructs.

You quickly climb off of him, and lean off of the bed to find it. "You just keep these with you?" You tease, pulling out a sleeve of at least 7.

"Complaining?" Hanta asks with a lazy smile, dropping the roach into an empty soda can on your nightstand.

"No," You rip one off the end and make your way back to him, tossing it at him when close enough. "But I do think you're a whore, now." He hooks his thumbs under his waistband, ignoring your jab as he shimmies them down with his boxers until he can kick them off the bed, his shirt coming next. He brings the packet up to his mouth to rip the foil open with his teeth.

Just before he rolls the condom on, he glances at you, "You gonna strip or am I supposed to just rip your panties off?"

But you're not even listening to him, too busy taking in the nine neatly spaced bars that peak out from the underside of his penis. Just wide enough for the ball screws to be visible from the top.

"Impressive, right?" He jokes. You nod, breathing out a 'yeah' as you step closer. Kneeling on the bed, you reach out to touch the metal but stop just before you make contact.

"Can I?" You look up at him, hand hovering.

Hanta simply grabs your wrist, "I'm about to fuck you and you're asking if it's okay to touch my dick? Go for it, sweetness."

With that, he drags your hand closer until your fingertips graze him; he lets go so you can explore. You close your hand around him, running it up the length loosely, feeling how the bars gently shift with each pass. Sero's breathing gets heavier when you trace the bottom of his cock with your fingertip, feeling the little ridges of the metal beneath the skin.

You rotate one of the barbells to see how snug they are and suddenly he's yanking your hand away, startling you out of your stupor.

Thinking you hurt him, you rush to apologize but he's flipping you onto your back before you can even start. "Fucking tease…" he growls out, eyes dark as he stares down at your shocked form.

Hanta yanks your panties down your legs, barely stopping to admire the silvery strings that connect your cunt to the cotton before they snap. As soon as the offending material is across the room, he's all but ripping your shirt off as you laugh at his impatience.

He quickly rolls the almost-forgotten condom on and pushes into you in one go.

"Ah, fuck, you asshole!" You yelp, cutting off mid-laugh and shifting your hips to accommodate the intrusion.

"What are you gonna do about it?" He pulls back just enough to slam his cock into you, causing you to grip at his arms as you loose a strangled moan. "Nothing? That's what I thought," He smirks, sitting back to properly see you as he starts thrusting.

You can feel the solidity of the barbells pressing into your sensitive walls. It's a bit odd at first, but as he moves, the drag starts to become addictive; the thick bars adding a ridged texture even through the latex that has you basically panting under him, craving more and more of the delicious feeling.

"Feel good?" He teases. When you nod, he hums, "Told ya so~"

"Shuddup," you grumble.

It's when one of the bars catches and harshly drags against you as it snaps back into place that your eyes are rolling back and your back is arching, the most pornographic noise dripping from you as you shudder. Hanta freezes above you, face scrunching up as he lets out an animalistic growl that shoots straight to your cunt. "Fucking hell…"

"I-I'm sorry…" You don't know what caused the tug, but if you had to guess, it was probably from the way you're cunt is clenching around him, unforgiving.

"Don't be, I'm good" he huffs, recovering enough to resume his pace. "Just- try to relax, yeah? Can't fuck you if my dick's ripped." His joke isn't enough to ease your concern, though, and you shift a bit with uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" Your worry is taken out on your bottom lip until his thumb gently pulls it from your teeth.

"I wouldn't still be inside you if I wasn't," Sero reaches his other hand down to trace firm circles on your clit, "now c'mon, sweetness, relax for me so I can fuck this pretty pussy like it deserves."

"God-" You gasp, "-Stop.. *doing* that!"

Your hips jerk up despite your words, chasing the tantalizing pressure of his thumb as it continues to trace the bud. Tingles shoot through you almost painfully as you start to all but hump his hand and you swear you don't mean to knee him in the hip when he lightly pinches your clit. The muscles in your stomach start to tighten as your cunt pulses out a wave of arousal. The wet noises of his cock sliding home again and again echo with the roaring in your ears around your skull, creating a deafening crescendo.

You vaguely hear him growl out a "That's it- Open up for me..."

You're not sure when you loosened around him, but his thrusts have become fast and rough, crashing with a loud *slap* against your ass as your bed frame slams against the wall. You briefly think about the fact that your neighbor is definitely going to be filing a complaint against you with the Dean, but you can deal with that later, you decide.

"God, look at you, taking me so well, my pretty, pretty princessa..." He murmurs, nosing at your jaw. "Doing such a good job for me; taking this dick like you were made for it."

The pleasure fogs your rationale and with the added haze of the pot, you're uttering words you'll definitely regret in the morning.

"Kiss me," you gasp out, reaching for Hanta. This is supposed to be an impersonal fuck, but oh well; he's looking too good, hovering over you with that damn-near feral look in his eyes as he drinks in the way your pussy all but drags his cock back inside with each drive of his hips. Consequences be damned, you want his mouth on yours.

He apparently feels the same if the way he all but dives to slam his lips against yours in a frenzied, messy kiss. His tongue bullies its way into your mouth to tangle with yours, easily winning dominance and eagerly exploring its new terrain - tasting you thoroughly for all you have to offer.

Your head spins at the multiple sensations bombarding you.

HIs hand is still shoved between you, working you in a way that makes you feel like you're floating, slipping ever closer to release. the cloud fogging your mind is the only thing keeping you from tipping over the edge - time feels like it's slowed down just so the two of you can savor this for all it's worth and you can't tell if you're thankful or if you want to scream in frustration. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you want to live under him, stuck being his dumb little cocksleeve, especially with the way his piercings are caressing you in all the right places. Just when you think it can't feel any better than it does, one digs just a tad harder into you and it makes you reel, convinced you're going to go insane.

There's no way a couple pieces of steel are amplifying your pleasure this much - you refuse to believe it.

But believing or not, Hanta still has you writhing under him with your nails digging track down the smooth planes of his back. You're sure you've drawn blood on at least a couple of passes, but if he feels it, he doesn't let on.

Finally pulling away, you greedily suck in a lungful of oxygen, cursing when it makes your vision swim with black and purple spots.

God you're so close. You're so so close and - oh!

'Oh, that's deep...' you think, stunned at the way he reaches impossibly deeper into your soaked cunt when he tosses your leg over his shoulder. Hanta stretches you to your max as he dips down to suck marks into the column of your neck, his free hand stops holding him up as he drags it to your throat, angling your head to the side so he can suck and bite on more of the delicate skin. His weight presses you into the mattress as he stops rubbing on your clit in favor of gripping your hip and dragging you down with each roll of his hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust.

"Hanta-" You whine out, chest heaving from exertion. "I'm, oh god, I'm close... Hanta, please- Please, I wanna cum!"

You know you sound like a cock-drunk whore, but if that's what it takes to finally cream all over his godly cock, so be it.

"Yeah?" He pants, a drop of sweat rolling down the sharp angle of his jaw. It lingers for a second before dripping onto your chest; it rolls down your sternum, curving around the mound of your breast. "Then cum for me, sweetness. Let me see how good this dick is making you feel." His voice is gravelly as he holds your gaze.

You try to look away if only for your own sanity, but he slips his hand up, holding you in place. "Eyes on me, baby..."

It's all way too much, way too fast and you can feel yourself spiraling - the devastating pace of his thrusts, the almost harsh grip he has on your jaw, the intensity with which he watches your every reaction. You can feel the high coming. You can feel yourself becoming Icarus, but unlike he, you're so ready for the crash; almost begging for your waxed wings to melt so you can feel the rush of the fall.

The sun blazes, getting hotter and hotter; you can feel the scorching rays beat down on you as the hot wax starts to drip, burning into your flesh as you reach the extent of your high. And all at once, your wings break apart and the roaring sea rages in your ears as you cum.

"Oh fuck..." You rasp as your nails dig even deeper into his skin, finally drawing a hiss of pain from Hanta.

"That's it, sweetness, there's a good girl..." He grunts out between clenched teeth as you clamp down in him in a vice. "God-" he growls, hips frantically thrusting into you as he chases his own high; he finds it not long after, burying his cock into you as he fills the condom with his spend.

His head hangs between his shoulders as you both catch your breath. "Fuck, you feel so good, babes," He huffs after a while; looking up at you through his damp bangs, he gives you a shit-eating smirk, "Might have to do this more often~"

"Don't go falling for me just yet, Sero" You chuff with no venom, staring at your ceiling as your heart calms down.

He starts to pull out of you, causing you to hiss at the sudden emptiness. Hanta removes the condom, tying it off and just barely making it when he shoots it at your deskside trashcan.

"One sec," he says, getting off the bed with a soft grunt and heading to your bathroom. After a bit of rummaging and the sound of your sink running, he slips back towards you with a damp wash cloth in hand. "I'mma need you to spread those sexy-ass legs for me one more time, Princessa." He only laughs when you chuck a pillow at him, gripping your ankles to drag you down the bed and spreading them himself.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm oh-so awful and your new nemesis," Hanta mumbles at your protests, lightly wiping away the sweat and cum from between your thighs. "Betcha feel better now, though." He tosses the cloth at your face, making you let out an indignant scream.

He can't help but cackle at your reaction, head tossing back as his deep rumble echos through the room. "It's your own fluids??" He lets out his own screech when you chuck it as his own face. "Now that's just nasty!" He tries to dodge it, laughing. It lands on the ground with a wet thud and he finally climbs back onto your bed - well, he jumps over you, landing on his back before dragging you into his side.

"You never answered me about doin' this again," he mumbles into your hair, chuckling at your answering chest smack.

"...definitely..."

[natalievoncatte]

Kara had a guilty pleasure, one she didn’t share with anyone. It would have been awkward, and besides, everyone- friends, family, Lena; they all would have mocked her, relentlessly. It was the first of September and Kara was bracing herself for six months of the most exquisite torture.

She wasn’t expecting it on Lena’s desk.

When she walked into the office, the scent hit her. It tickled something in her brain and set her nerves alight, cascading shivers of excitement running down her limbs.

Kryptonians, you see, are not human. They are aliens, and react to things, to stimuli, in ways humans do not. The most obvious implication of this is Kryptonite, or rather the Kryptonite radiation it emits, which is unique to Kara’s lost homeworld and is deadly poisonous to her while being essentially harmless to humans without both significant and prolonged exposure.

There were, however, other things that Kara responded to differently. Certain flavors were too intense; some things her peers found pleasant were overwhelming or inexplicably bitter or otherwise unpalatable. Her enhanced hearing, even without her powers active, made her sensitive to noises that a human wouldn’t even notice. The list went on and on.

One thing in particular, though, was especially… stimulating to her. It got her motor going, as it were. Not like that, of course. Ironically it had the same effect on her that caffeine had on humans, even in small quantities.

There was something in pumpkin spice that excited Kara. Just not like that.

Okay, maybe a little like that. Even the scent of it made her feel things, and there was a steaming hot cup of it on Lena Luthor’s desk.

Kara had been summoned over some editorial matter of little consequence, probably an excuse to chat. When she stepped into her office, Kara stopped dead because Lena reached across her desk and picked up that cup and Kara was already having trouble.

Lena was… Lena. She was dressed in thigh high boots and black jeans and a tight, low cut green sweater that revealed a generous swell of cleavage that immediately drew Kara’s brazen eye. She caught herself looking and quickly put a stop to it, but Lena was looking right at her, smoldering green eyes peering at her over the rim of that damned coffee cup.

Great Rao, Lena was beautiful. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, baring the elegant column of her neck and her sharp jawline. Her visible ear carried multiple piercings dripping with diamonds and there was a faint pink tinge to her pale cheek. The red of her lipstick was almost violent and she positively smoldered. One might have thought she was dolled up for a photo shoot.

Kara was staring at those lips as she took a sip of coffee, leaving a faint white stain on the white cup.

Such a visual feast with the mere scent of the spices in her coffee was enough to weaken Kara’s knees and make her secretly fidget her toes inside her shoes. It was only a quick chat, a five minute conversation, but it was excruciating trying to get through it like this.

“Earth to Kara,” Lena sighed.

Kara blinked. “Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll go?”

“Where am I going?”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“Okay, Kara, you’re benched.”

“Wait, what?”

Lena huffed. “Look, it’s noble, going days without sleep while you live your double life, and we did agree that Supergirl duties will take precedence over your work here… but I can see you’re exhausted. I can’t order you to stop rescuing cats from trees and helping old ladies with their taxes, but I can order you to take the rest of the week off from working here. Which you are. Starting now.”

Actually, Lena probably could order her to stop doing things. Lena could probably order to do anything with the spicy tang in her nostrils and the quivering weakness in her limbs as heat gathered low in her belly. Kara was glad that she had just been ordered out.

“Oh,” Lena said, “and stop at Noonan’s on your way out. I hear the pumpkin spice lattes are your favorite and well,” she gave her cup a little shake.

Kara decided she would not stop at Noonan’s.

She stopped at Noonan’s. She got a PSL and a pumpkin spice bear claw and a dozen pumpkin spice donuts and consumed them all in the span of five minutes once she set foot inside her loft, after which she spent the next thirty in the shower thinking about Lena’s pillowy red lips and how kissable they were and her pale skin and how badly she wanted to mark it as hers and she sort of spent an hour in a pumpkin spice fueled fugue, and then passed out on her bed buck-ass naked.

Which was where she still was when the knock came at the door.

Her head shot up from the bed and she realized that it was movie night and she was hosting. She had no movies picked out, no snacks, and no clothes.

What she did have was super-speed, and this had a spread of frozen snacks ready to go in the oven, and a stack of blu-rays to be voted on, and pants. She needed pants and probably a bra and definitely a shirt. Humans were weird about their torsos. Fortunately Kryptonians were, too. Kara was rather lucky that she hadn’t landed on a planet that considered shirts obscene.

There were at least two like that, which isn’t a lot, but it was more than you’d think.

Kara opened the door and greeted Alex and Kelly, ushering them in. Brainy and Nia were next.

Lena showed up last, dressed in one of her peculiar movie night fits- a stylish leather jacket over honest to god fluffy pajamas, like a fashion plate going to a slumber party. Her hair was down and wavy and she looked soft and inviting and Kara wanted to snuggle her relentlessly and was very glad that the pumpkin spice was largely out of her system.

Largely.

Oh.

Lena lifted the two six packs she was carrying, giving Kara a suggestive arch of her eyebrow. Lena liked to bring gifts when Kara hosted, usually wine. Tonight she had twelve chilled bottles of… pumpkin spice beer.

Kara wanted to scream. Or possibly moan. Or possibly make Lena moan and maybe spank her a little.

Fuck!

“Hi-hi,” said Kara.

“Hi yourself,” said Lena. “Mind if I come in, or do you want to drink these right here?”

“C-come in,” said Kara.

“Eyyyyyy,” said Alex, as she saw the six packs. “The spice must flow!”

“The spice must flow,” Kelly repeated.

“Chai Hulud,” Nia said, in a faux-deep voice.

“I believe it is “Shai Hulud,” said Brainy.

“Sure, honey,” said Nia, patting his knee.

“You gonna hand those out?” said Alex.

“These are for our host,” said Lena. “Kara has plenty of spirits in her fridge.”

Alex busted out laughing, confusing the others.

Kara remained stone-faced.

Movie night then went on as normal. Everyone took seats, the first movie was voted on, snacks were enjoyed and beers were had. The pumpkin bottles sat in their cardboard holders in the fridge, untouched.

Until they got into the second movie, and Lena sauntered over from the kitchen carrying two bottles, and thrust one into Kara’s hands as she wedged herself in between Kara and Nia, casually tossing her legs over Kara’s lap.

Kara steadfastly did not look. She would not look. She would not look. Surely Lena was just making herself comfortable and private hadn’t noticed that the top couple of buttons on her pajama top had popped themselves and she was showing quite a generous amount of…

Kara looked away sharply. She had looked.

“Do the thing, darling,” said Lena.

“Do the thing! Do the thing! Do they thing!” Nia began to chant.

Sighing, Kara took her bottle and Lena’s, and popped the caps loose with a flock of her thumbs. Lena squealed in delight and Kara realized that actually drinking this concoction was an amazingly terrible idea.

Especially since Lena was basically in her lap now.

Kara tried not to drink, but the hint of that spicy scent from the beer was enough to make every nerve ending tingle and start a fire in her belly. She took a long pull on it and quickly realized she’d drained the bottle in one go.

Lena, grinning, stood up. Kara watched every sway of her hips as she marched to the kitchen, bent to grab another bottle from the bottom shelf of the fridge, and sashayed back to shamelessly plop right in Kara’s lap and offer her the new bottle.

The little display has gotten at least Alex’s attention, and she looked somehow at once horrified and amused and whispered to Kelly, who snorted.

Nia picked up on it next, after Kara had downed her fourth one of the cured pumpkin brews and her brain was sloshing around in sweet cinnamony goodness.

She was running into a considerable problem. Lena was curled up in her lap, draped across her in fact, a soft weight that was driving her absolute insane even as the scent of Lena’s… of Lena mingled with the spices singing in her veins. She forgot the movie. She forgot the existence of everything but Lena, and barely noticed when Alex announced,

“Guys, it’s late. I think we better head out so that Kara and Lena can clean up.”

“Perhaps we should help,” Brainy suggested.

“Nah, let’s go,” said Nia, who then muttered, “seriously Querl we need to go.”

Kara blinked and watched them all pile out, Alex shooting Lena a knowing look before rolling her eyes and closing the door.

Two seconds after the door closed, Lena twisted languidly in Kara’s lap, and was now no longer sitting in her lap but straddling her.

Kryptonians, you see, are not human. They are aliens, and react to things, to stimuli, in ways humans do not. They also have anatomical structures that humans do not, something that was was currently causing Kara to blush furiously, because Lena was well… sitting on it.

“I can explain,” Kara squeaked.

The look Lena gave her would have been devastating, pumpkin spice or no pumpkin spice. Lena’s face filled her vision as Lena placed her hands on Kara’s sides and rolled her hips, dragging a groan out of her.

“Is that explanation going to include a hands on demonstration?” said Lena. “I may need a few rounds before I fully understand.”

Kara swallowed hard. “You mean… you w-want to…”

“Kara,” Lena sighed. “How is someone who’s been flirting with me for five years so bad at flirting?”

Kara stared at her.

“Just, um, to clarify, you’re flirting with me, right?”

“I’m sitting in your lap unbuttoning my top, darling. I believe that qualifies.”

“You’re what?”

Lena grinned and swept her fingers down her chest, popping the rest of the buttons in sequence. The pajama top suddenly hung lose, baring the lush inner curves of her breasts while obscuring the rest of her in an agonizing promise.

Kara, finally, after years of this, took the hint and had Lena relieved of her fuzzy pajamas by the time they hit the bed.

The next morning, or rather next afternoon when Lena woke up, Kara looked over at her. Her eyes had just opened and she was grinning ear to ear.

“Lena?” said Kara.

“Yes? Before we go again I’m going to need a protein shake and some supplements.”

Kara felt her ears burning as her cheeks heated.

“Did you know about the pumpkin spice thing?”

“Pumpkin spice thing?” said Lena.

“Alex told you, right?”

Lena pursed her lips.

“Nope.”

“Cat Grant?”

“No, although I did ask her and she said you, and I quote, ‘creamed your khakis’ in front of her one time.”

“Then who?”

Lena grinned.

“I went to Clark to ask him the right way to go about seeking your attentions. Lois overheard and pulled me aside. Apparently you two share the same weaknesses.”

“My only weakness is you, baby.”

“Oh, it’s baby now, is it?”

“Yup,” said Kara.

[nnight-dances]

CASUAL

PAIRING: karina x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, smut (explicit, but not too much?)

TROPES: fwb to lovers except you're roommates and best friends, unrequited love but not really.

LISTEN TO: casual by chappell roan

NOTE: i may be having a bit of a military wife moment rn but i'm still a sapphic at heart yearning for something more... my first gay fic i've posted on this account yay! cannot reveal if ive been in a similar situation but you could say this is based on real life! whose life, i will not say. hope u enjoy and stay safe everyone <3

knee-deep in the [twin bed] and you're eating me out

you want to say you're in control when it happens, but you'd be a big fat liar if you did. truth be told, karina had you wrapped around her finger since she moved in. (in more ways than one, if you catch my drift.) 

you met her late freshman year in college when you shared a gender studies course with her – which alone would've been enough of a clue to which ways she swings, if not for the black leather jacket and unnecessary amount of rings she wore to class. she'd sat next to you the first week in and approached you after class. "this class is a bore," she said as a matter-of-factly, "wanna get coffee with me?" 

you'd agreed because you were mesmerized (even though secretly, that was the favorite course you took that year) and followed her into a cafe, letting her sweet talk you into all kinds of things from there. she had a big friend group which welcomed you generously when they found out you were friends with karina and eventually, that became your everyday life. 

you worked on papers sincerely while karina watched you with an unreadable glint (maybe it was unreadable, maybe you didn't want to read too much into it), swirling her untouched coffee. eventually one day, she asked you, "wanna be roommates next year?" 

that was karina. easy-going and confident. she didn't hesitate to ask you to do things with her, even if they were often bending the boundaries of what friends could do. exhibit a: she'd asked you to make out with her at a party just so she could shake off a creep. in general, she was touchier than the normal person, finding a way to cup your stomach under your shirt when you weren't looking. you get the idea. 

that's how when she moves into the same room as you sophomore year, you lost all sense of self and reality. you have to thank your mom who convinced you to arrive on campus a day earlier than most, so you could settle in without the bothersome crowd. 

you're in the middle of fixing a poster of your favorite band, the strokes, in the wall when she lets herself in with a, "you're already here, jagiya!" you almost lose your footing on your chair in order to face her, heart already a fluttering mess thanks to her shameless flirting. 

"karina!" you call out, thrilled to see your friends, complications aside. you step down carefully before throwing yourself in her waiting arms. "you're here earlier than i thought."

she pulls away with a devilish grin, "missed you too much so i came early." she looks around the room, "i see you've already made this place home."

you smile, unsettled by the way she's still holding you in her arms, your bodies attached at the hip as she takes in her home for the next year. she smells like she always does: like grapefruit and spicy cedar. you feel relaxed in her embrace, taking in her appearance. she's wearing a cropped tank with a large flannel that slips off her shoulder thanks to the heavy tote she carries.

with a sigh, you take the tote off her. "your hair grew longer," you comment as you place the bag on her desk. karina does a little spin for you, giving a full view of the wavy locks that came all the way to her navel. it only made her that much more charming (you couldn't resist wanting to know what it would feel like to run your fingers through them). 

you watch as karina lugs all her stuff into the room, refusing your help with a strict look. "can't have you spraining something already, jagiya," she quips and that's all it takes for you to sit back obediently. she takes off her flannel, letting you take in her arms. was it just you or did her biceps get bigger? (it wasn't just you. karina spent her summer the gym rat way.)

"you barely have any stuff…" you murmur mindlessly when she's nearly done in half an hour. for reference, it took you three whole hours for two days to set your stuff in place.

"you just have a lot of stuff," karina laughs, closing her closet with a satisfied clap. "thoughts on ordering in for din'?"

you raise a brow, "shouldn't we at least go see if everyone's back?"

she shrugs, "we can just go after we eat." she approaches your bed, resting her forearms next to you. "come on, i don't feel like eating that prison food just yet."

despite karina's exaggeration (your dining hall makes perfectly edible food), you let karina order for you. who are you kidding? the thought of sharing a meal with your newly established roommate in your new room on your first day together… it was sweet, you had to admit. so you give in and tell karina exactly what toppings you want on your bowl. 

but where you had expected to bond in all kinds of cozy ways with karina, the night quickly an unexpected turn. you're not sure how it happens but you end up caged under karina's body on your bed. her hot breath is hitting your face, "you got even prettier over the summer, huh?"

her words make it harder to think. to think about how this your best friend slash roommate slash the person you would do anything for. fuck, it's too late and you're too helpless when it comes to her. karina's already sliding her hand down your stomach, eliciting a mewl of her name from your throat. 

she looks pleased, chesire grin lighting up her face when she reaches your panties. "mhm, karina–" you claw at her shoulder when a cold finger meets your slick folds. she kisses your cheek and then your mouth, so strong that you can't do anything but hold her closer to your chest till she's ripping a scream from you. 

"karina, what are we doing?" you cry out, still coming down from your orgasm. what the fuck, this not a situation to be with your roommate.

"what?" she whispers, lips attached to your neck without a care in the world, "i'm just doing what i've been wanting to all summer."

"okay, that's enough," you push her off until you're both sat. you're breathless so it doesn't help the gravity of the glare you hold karina captive under. she sits back on her palms, eyes hooded. 

"we're friends," you start and sensing the protest rising in her, you hold up a hand, "and roommates. you know what they say about that, don't you?"

"don't shit where you eat," she deadpans, "but i don't care. i'm not shitting anywhere. i like you, you like me. that's why we're friends. if we want to fuck around a little, what's the big deal?"

you contain a scoff at how unbothered she is. at the same time, her words stab you in the heart, the subtle friendzoning nature of them not going unnoticed (that's why we're friends? what if you wanted to be more?)

"listen, jagiya," karina shifts dangerously closer, a thumb wiping away the sweat on your lip. "it's chill. we don't have to if you don't want to. but i'll tell you right now; i want to do things with you."

"things?" you breathe even though you know you shouldn't fall into her trap.

"yeah," she caresses your cheek, licking her lips, "want to kiss you. make you come. that sort of thing."

you fall against her weakly, feeling the soft strands of her hair envelope you like a dream. with your eyes closed, all you can feel is warmth of her body and none of the cold of her words (kiss, fuck, chill. no love.) 

"only if you let me eat you out, too," you finally murmur against her skin. feel her shake with laughter.

"thought you'd never ask."

you wake up in karina's arms. she'd dozed off in your bed as if hers wasn't two hops away. the thoughts makes you flushed (despite everything) and you turn around to face her. she's still asleep, peaceful as ever. you trace the mole below her lips, envious of how little she was attached to you.

not to drown yourself in self-pity, you had always been too attached to karina for your own good. a week into being friends with her, you would jump at a text from her, dropping everything to meet at her the cafe she had wanted to try or to help her get ready for a party. 

but it wasn't without reason. she was sweet to you, genuinely. karina sensed your moods smoothly, knowing when your silence was more than comfortable and when your drunk crying meant you were actually upset over something. she listened to you, no matter how little you claimed the problem to be, her reliable shoulder always yours when you were in trouble.

so you couldn't blame the butterflies in your stomach at waking up with her. right?

"we never made it to meeting our friends," karina mumbles through a yawn later. you're both in the middle of getting ready for the day, thankfully still a grace day before classes start. 

"you clearly had other plans," you purse your lips in the mirror, working on fixing a bump in your hair. stupid karina and her arm under your head all night. 

she comes up behind you with a playful smile, taking the brush from your hands to rake it through your hair herself. "you say that like you didn't have fun," she says. she brings your hair into a bun, taking a hairtie off her wrist to secure it in place. patting your head with eyes on you in the mirror, "there. you look cute."

you heave a deep sigh at the motions that stir up at her actions, sliding away to pretend to busy yourself with your bag. "we should go meet them today," you say, "or they might declare us dead."

"definitely," karina laughs.

meeting your friends helps you a little. maybe it's because you're seeing them after so long or maybe it's just the fact that you have normal friend feelings for them. but it's nice, you can lose yourself in a nonsense conversation with seungkwan about your recently acquired obsessions with various mobile games.

he's in the middle of offering to show you his brand-new coffee machine when karina shouts, "guys! gather up! minjeongie is driving us to get ice-cream! on her!"

you spot the short blonde attacks on karina at the presumably false declaration. your rommate dodges well, bent in a fit of laughter at minjeong's tantrum. "okay, i lied! everyone buy your own ice-cream."

as it turns out, minjeong's car is definitely not big enough to fit all 8 of your friends. "looks like we're fighting it out the fairest way," seowon declares, readying her fist for rock paper scissors. 

"since only five of us can go," karina starts, somehow finding her way next to your side. you shiver when her hands clasps yours. "minjeong, y/n, and i are definitely going."

you watch in shock as everyone wreaks havoc at her words. "now why would we allow that–"

"see, it's technically just two seats taken," she explains calmly, "y/n's sitting on my lap anyway." you gape at her audacity as she holds up your intertwined hands, like a wedding announcement.

you try to weasel out of her grip, mumbling, "that's fine. i don't really want to go–"

"what? of course you do," karina's hand tightens and you curse her strength, "you love ice-cream, jagiya. come on. let's go."

your friends seem dubious of the interaction but with a few statements along the lines of they're in their honeymoon phase as roomies, they return to the rock-paper-scissors battle at hand, now the stakes reduced to four seats now. 

"calling shotgun by the way!" karina calls as she pulls you after. you don't know what to say honestly, overwhelmed by her hand in yours. you had expected her to pretend things were the same as always but clearly not: you had never gone as far to sit in her lap with your friends around (alone was a different story. but you swear you'd only ended up in her lap because she'd wanted to hug you through your breakup with your ex.) 

"karina, you're crazy," you tell her, finally shaking your hand free. you cross your arms and karina simply takes a chug of water from the brita in geum's minifridge. 

"why? because i volunteered my lap so we'd get to go?"

before you can really give her a piece of your mind, minjeong interrupts. "looks like they figured out the winners. we're leaving in the next five minutes or the offer's off the table."

– 

two weeks and your mom invites me to [lunch]

"y/n, it's so nice to see you again," karina's mom is saying, sliding a menu toward you. thanksgiving week was around which meant parents were abundant on campus these days. it also meant your own mom couldn't make it because she was swamped with work, no thanks to her job as an on-field reporter. 

"of course, you've lost so much weight since we last met, eommeoni," you smile.

this is fine for the most part of it. you genuinely enjoy karina's mom's company. she's kind and sincere, always bringing a gift for you along with karina and treating you like her own. but this time around it's different because it's the first time you've been sleeping with her daughter.

in fact, just that morning, karina had kept you in bed longer than usual, complaining because you had gone to bed earlier than usual. it had been part of your plan to keep your conscience clean for when you met her mother, to make sure you didn't lose her respect. but being the nefarious idiot she was, karina had crawled up your torso, eyes going sweet at you, "please, just once?"

so now you had a dirtier conscience than usual, having been panting in karina's lap just hours before this lunch. 

but even if you tried to maintain composure in front of her mom, karina made it impossible. she slid close to your shoulder, hand splayed across your bare thigh (curse you and your decision to wear your sundress out today). it's honestly harmless and even excusable as a friendly gesture, but ever so occassionally, her hand climbs up, reaching closer and closer to a position that was far from appropriate.

"so tell me, do you two have any classes together this semester?" karina's mom asks you between mouthfuls of rice. you take the chance to peel karina's hand off but it ends up at your knee like a magnet. 

"not really," karina answers easily as if unaware of the power struggle going under the table. probably because she was winning by a mile. 

"i told karina she should take an elective with me but she refused," you complain, deciding if this was the way you could hit back then so be it.

"i think you forgot to mention it was an economics elective," she corrects you, hand basically clawing at your inner thight by now. you shift uneasily and karina's mom laughs.

"you know jimin," she shakes her head, "she doesn't take the serious courses. only painting all day long."

"eomma," karina groans, "how many times do i have to tell you? it's not just painting. i'm an arts major. that's like the second hardest major at this school."

"really? what's the hardest major?" (the only right question for a mother to ask.)

the rest of the lunch goes by quickly, fortunately for you. you're the first out the door, eager to put some distance between you and karina. you pretend to fan yourself out of the hot mess she's made of you.

"i have to say," karina's mom says as she gets ready to leave, "you two seem to have gotten closer since you started rooming together."

"really?" karina wonders as if clueless to the arm around your shoulder, where it had been the whole walk back to campus from the restaurant. (insufferable, you whisper to her. cute, she accuses you.)

"thanks for sticking next to her, y/n. who knows where my little girl would be without you?"

you brush of karina's mom's words of flattery, not voicing the thoughts that arise. where would i be without your daughter? 

– 

i know what you tell [our] friends

imagining a life without karina becomes terribly real when it becomes clear to you that karina truly has no intentions of treating as anything more than a friend who she sleeps with and not just as roommates. 

it's a cold slap of reality that you finally feel one day when you're eating with minjeong and seungkwan. karina's next to you, like she so often is, hand on your elbow for no good reason.

"so everyone's been wondering…" minjeong starts to say and seungkwan shoots her a glare, realizing where this was going.

"...are you two a thing?" she points to the point of contact between you and karina.

"what?" you squeak, pulling away at the call-out. but your mind goes blank, all the excuses you had practiced in your head deserting you. you had expected someone to catch on sooner or later, but somehow right now all you can think of is how you already miss karina's touch. i'm in love with her, it occurs to you to say. (wait, you love her? you wonder distantly as if the answer hadn't been crystal clear the minute she crossed lines with you.)

karina shrugs, "we're fucking. but it's casual. no attachment or anything." she adds with an arm around you, "just girls being girls, right?"

you muster out a laugh to agree with her, ignoring the concerned look seungkwan pins you with. minjeong seems convinced though, "no way! you're sleeping together? i guess it must be convenient… you live together."

"yeah, you could say that," this time it's you responding, swallowing the tremble in your throat. you'd rather die than let karina get a whiff of your true feelings. you stand up.

 "it's easy." it's the hardest. "not a big deal." you thought about it every waking second. "i have class now though. see you guys later." 

you did not have class. you ran to the nearest bathroom stall to lock yourself in and let out the sobs that had been threatening your system for the past three weeks. you make sure nobody can hear you and then wipe your tears with the spare tissues you carry in your bag. 

you leave, hoping nobody notices your red eyes. 

that night, you go to your room later than usual, counting on karina to be asleep. you should know better though because she's up, in nothing but her night shorts, sitting on your bed. 

it almost frustrates you for a moment, the sight of her curled up so comfortably on your bed like you were lovers. but you weren't. you weren't even close. but she perks up like maybe you are, calling out your name sweetly, "you're so late today. is everything okay?"

"yeah," you say, not making eye-contact for too long as you rest your bag on your desk. you contemplate leaving the room just so you didn't have to feel this hot volcano erupt in your chest. but instead, you undress, aware of karina's unwavering gaze. you make sure to slip off your pants and put on a baggy shirt. no shorts, like karina liked.

"we're a fully dressed person put together," she liked to joke when she'd bring your bodies close. you laughed along but all you wanted was to actually be one person with her. maybe that would justify why you were so attracted to her. 

"come on,," she coos when you jump into bed. "i know something's wrong. your eyes are red. your shoulders heavy."

"can't lie for one second with you, can i?" you sigh into her skin when she hugs you. 

"sorry, jagiya. maybe if i was a man, you could get away with it."

maybe that would make it easier. if one of you was a man. at least then someone would bat an eye at the concept of a no strings attached situationship between best friends. you were practically begging for someone to object to its apparently platonic nature. (you were begging yourself.)

"i didn't even shower," you complain when she explores your bare stomach with her fingers.

"it's fine. we'll just take one in the morning."

she holds you to the promise, waking you up half an hour earlier than usual just so she could drag you into the shower. two girls showering together, a sight nobody would see because it was dead quiet until an hour from now. 

– 

i try to be the chill girl 

you knew it was too good to be true, your friends-with-benefit situation with karina. but now that your feelings are actually catching up to you, you can barely hold in the tears that overwhelm you when you look at her.

then, when you finally decide to suck it up and show up to dinner with your friends, it all goes south. thanks to some dumb group project karina's doing, a guy named taeyong was at your table. you knew him by name from college gossip. he was fit to be the protagonist of a rom-com, nice guy with the looks to go with it and he was friendly, fitting right in with the group of friends. 

bitterly, you reflect on how long it had taken you, in comparison, to warm up to everyone. a month, maybe? plus, he looked perfect next to karina, their unusually good looks matching each other's quality.

you're not the only thinking that because geum pipes up, "you two look good together! when's the wedding?"

seowon hits his arm though most of the people on the table join in laughter. (you don't.) "come on, you can't force it, geum," she says, "they're clearly still getting to know each other."

"so it'll be official in say, a week from now?" minjeong teases, earning herself a blush from taeyong. karina is unruffled but she does smile a little at the teasing comments, side-eyeing the boy next to her.

right. they did look good together. 

much to your discomfort, karina and taeyong only seem to become closer, with the latter frequenting your table at every meal. he assimilated easily with the group, already circulating inside jokes that you were conveniently not a part of.

speaking of which you were circulating a word tornado yourself: casual, no attachement, chill, convenient, easy… not a big deal. as taeyong became a regular with your friends, you became increasingly absent, coming up with excuses to take your meals at much earlier or later hours.

you're officially spiraling, doing your best to avoid karina. but avoiding karina meant avoiding your friends. it was a harsh truth but you came to realize you were only friends with them because of her and if you decided to break things off with her, you'd also end up a loner.

it was a cold, miserable place to be in, your mind. you left your room early and came back late to karina asleep. she'd tried to stay up for your sake a few times but you'd made your arrivals later and later, until she gave up and went to sleep. 

you know you can only avoid her for so long before she caught you and grilled you but for now, you just had to come up with a way to keep yourself occupied. that afternoon, you get a text from her, asking to talk to you after dinner. you leave her on read for hours before texting back a quick "sure," afraid to go too far. you may be mad at karina for treating you in ways that left you confused, but you didn't actualy want to hurt her. 

but come the time when finally face her and you realize it may be too late. 

"so… why exactly have you been avoiding me?" more than anything, karina's voice is weary. she appears worried when you first take a seat across from her but when you don't look like you're in actual physical pain, her expression morphs into one of frustration.

"i'm not," you sigh, "i'm just busy."

"busy during every single meal? busy enough to leave before i wake up?"

"i'm taking more classes than usual," you say and though it's the truth, it's far from being the reason why you were acting this way. karina seems to know this. 

"i'm taking an art class that has me staying back in the studio till 11," she tells you. only then, you notice the black charcoal marking her cheek. "but i still come home."

"sorry," you mumble, averting your gaze. "i'm not– you didn't do anything. i'm just… thinking through some things. i'll come back to the room earlier today."

"great, so now we're not close enough for you to share your thoughts with me?" this time karina actually sounds hurt. it was the indication of your friendship finally falling apart that has her sitting forward, eyes blinking in panic. "y/n, what the fuck?"

what the fuck, indeed. you try your best to reassure karina but it seems like she's done talking to you after that point so you see yourself out. a small part of you manages to wonder whose jacket was laid across the chair next to her. taeyong?

you find the answer the hard way when you come back to your room at a reasonable hour for the first time in a week. only to run into taeyong himself.

he seems like he's in a hurry when you step in, rushing to put his jacket on (yes, the jacket that you saw next to karina earlier today) and avoiding your gaze. you don't even pretend to seem pleased encounter him there.

you fix your glare on karina, kneeling on her bed. she lets out a sigh when she sees you. "you're finally back."

you watch as taeyong leaves without a goodbye and you scoff, "i feel like i interrupted something. maybe i shouldn't have come back." you feel the blood rush to your head, all your convictions to lay out your unreciprocated feelings out to karina because she deserved an explanation.

right now, you just feel empty. and mad. so as soon as you rest your bag, you get to changing. but not into your night clothes.

"are you going somewhere?"

"...maybe."

"and what happened to our talk earlier?"

with a huff of disbelief, you throw your sweaty shirt on your bedroom floor. "well, i decided it meant nothing when i saw that guy leaving our room."

"taeyong?" karina looks baffled and you want to shake some sense into her so bad.

"yeah, i don't know, karina, the thought of you already replacing me with some dude–" you cut yourself off when your voice breaks. "it's not a great feeling. so i'm just gonna leave."

"wait, what?" karina jumps out of her bed. "is this what you've been mad about all week?"

you pause your angry movements about your space when she comes close to you, touching your arm, first contact in days. you breathe unevenly, "karina, i just need some time–"

"are you crying, jagiya?"

you want to say it's stupid nickname that gets to your nerves finally breaking your walls down. but really, it's the warmth in her tone, the sound of her breath hitting your ear so close. you'd missed karina. that's why you end up sobbing, arms finding her neck to support you. 

"karina, i'm–" she rubs your back calmly through your sobs. "i'm sorry."

"what's wrong, baby? why are you crying? please, talk to me."

"i think… i'm in love with you."

your confession is quiet, just like your love for karina has always been. actually no, that's what you want to think but no, your love is loud: you look for her in every room you enter, hands already welcoming hers when she runs over to you. you're the first to laugh at her jokes, no matter how nonsensical or how many times she's told them to you. you may be a flustered mess when things got intimate, but you always made sure karina felt good, too – going far beyond your comfort zone to please her.

karina pulls away with a soft gasp. "that's not what i expected you to say."

"i know," you sniffle. "but it's been killing me. i know you wanted to keep things casual. and i know you and taeyong are–"

"okay, just so we're clear for once and for all– there is nothing between me and taeyong."

you freeze in shock, having been rock-solid in your assumption of their relationship. "what?"

"come on, i barely know the guy. but apparently, everyone's teasing got to his head," karina sighs, "he came here to confess to me earlier today. and i rejected him."

now his urgency to leave the room makes even more sense, you realize slowly. but you realize another thing: karina had looked cold when you'd entered, ending things with him clearly. yet, here you were, standing with her arms around your waist as if you hadn't declared your love for her.

"...and?" you prod her, biting your lip hopefully.

"and?" karina echoes you, eyes locking in yours to understand your hint. "oh, you wanna know how i feel?"

you nod coyly, a stray tear falling down your cheek as if on cue. 

"well, let's start with a recap of this week. you ignored me so i felt like shit for most of it. and then you ignored me some more and i had to go to sleep lonely and sad. then, you stopped showing for meals so i didn't even want to eat anymore. what happened next? oh right, this evening. i had to practically beg you to talk to me–"

"okay, i get the idea!" you stop her with a groan, "i'm sorry, but i clearly had good reason to act the way i did."

"did you?" karina is suddenly holding your face, smiling turning bittersweet. "you idiot."

"huh?"

"i wanted to keep things casual because i wasn't sure how you felt about me. i wanted you to keep your options open till someone who you actually liked came along–"

"but–"

"this was long before i knew you were into me like that. you're really hard to read, you know? but yeah, i kept things casual because i'm selfish. i wanted to sleep with the girl i love without losing her friendship. i was obviously an–"

"idiot!" you hit karina's arm repeatedly at her revelation, tears filling up your vision yet again. "you love me?! why would you do that to me, then? are you–"

karina catches your fists in her with a heave, "i know, i know. i'm sorry, jagiya. but–" she brings your first to her chest, exposed by the deep neck of the tank she wore to sleep. "i'm serious about you, okay? i didn't want to gamble someone i cherished over some fucking around."

your body feels weak now that the truth is out in the open. you lean into karina. "you're so mean," you say into her neck, "i thought… you were chill."

she laughs at your complaint, "sorry. i'm dumb. dumb in love?"

you let karina coax you into her bed that night, kissing your body free of the tension you'd carried all that week like she was nursing you back to health. you can't help the tears that escape at her sweet touch, not new for her by any means – but different for you nevertheless, now that you knew how she felt. later that night, when you're falling asleep in her arms, in her twin bed this time, you feel her snuggle closer. warm nose against your cold cheek, she kisses you goodnight. (and a soft love you that you can barely distinguish from a dream.)

[amethystarachnid]

Hey there! Can I request for Marvel Bingo “marriage of convenience” for Steve Rogers and female reader.

I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests, I just want to share what I have in mind, it’s up to you if you want to consider it.

So, Steve and reader both belong to influential families and Steve picked reader over her elder sister (Sharon/Peggy) to marry. They’ve known each other since childhood and Steve has been secretly in love with her but he doesn’t show and doesn’t even know if she likes him. So he gets married to her to protect her from her family. His love language is taking care of her… like a slow burn, a build up towards a passionate and beautiful confession of their feelings. If you wana make it spicy, that’ll be cherry on top.

MARRIAGE

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.3k

ᯓ★ TW(s): some little spicy scenes (2)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The polished mahogany table between you gleams under the dim light of the private study. You sit with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you try to keep your expression neutral. Across from you, Steve Rogers leans forward, his broad shoulders casting long shadows across the room. His blue eyes—soft, concerned, and endlessly patient—are fixed on you, but you avoid them, focusing instead on the crest embroidered into the sleeve of his finely tailored jacket.

The Rogers family crest.

The room is too warm, the air heavy with the scent of aged leather and wood polish. You’ve been in this study a hundred times before. It’s where your father and his friends would discuss business deals that shaped entire industries, where your sister Sharon would charm visiting dignitaries with her effortless wit and poise. You, on the other hand, always felt out of place here, like a child wearing shoes too big to fill.

But tonight, you are here for something far more personal.

“I won’t pretend this is how I imagined things going,” Steve begins, his voice steady but tinged with something unnameable—regret, maybe, or resignation. “But it’s clear to me that... things can’t continue as they are.”

Your breath catches, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something foolish. Of course, he doesn’t mean you specifically. He’s talking about your family, your situation. You know Steve well enough to recognize when he’s treading carefully, picking his words with the precision of a man dismantling a bomb.

“I know your father,” he continues, his jaw tightening briefly, “and I know what kind of man he is. The kind of... expectations he has for you and Sharon.”

You flinch at the mention of her name, your elder sister, the golden child of your family. Sharon was meant to marry Steve, not you. Everyone knew it; the whispers at gala events, the approving nods from their respective parents, the way Sharon carried herself around him like a queen certain of her crown.

And yet, it was you Steve had chosen.

The memory of that announcement still makes your heart race, even now, months later. It had been surreal, watching your father’s barely concealed fury, Sharon’s stunned disbelief. You hadn’t been able to look at Steve that night, terrified your face would betray the feelings you’ve kept locked away for years.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself back to the present. “Steve, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he interrupts, his voice firm but not unkind. His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the intensity of his gaze makes it impossible to breathe. “You don’t deserve what they’ve done to you. What they’re still doing to you.”

The words hang in the air between you, raw and unvarnished.

“I want to help,” he says softly.

Your heart aches at the sincerity in his voice. He means it. He always means what he says—one of the many reasons you’ve loved him since you were too young to understand what love even was. But you can’t let him see that now, not when everything is so precariously balanced.

“Marriage,” you murmur, testing the word as if it might shatter on your tongue. “You think that’s the answer?”

“I think it’s the best chance you’ll have to get out from under your father’s thumb,” Steve replies without hesitation. “And it’ll keep you safe.”

Safe. The word feels foreign, almost mythical, like something out of a bedtime story.

“And you?” you ask, folding your hands tighter to steady them. “What do you get out of this, Steve?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer, his expression unreadable. Then he leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

“Peace of mind,” he says finally. “Knowing you’re not being hurt anymore. Knowing you’re not... alone in that house.”

Your throat tightens, and you swallow hard to keep the emotion at bay. You can’t let him see how much his words affect you, how desperately you want to believe in the future he’s offering.

“And what about Sharon?” you ask quietly.

Steve’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away, his gaze settling somewhere over your shoulder. “She’ll be fine,” he says after a moment. “She doesn’t... need me the way you do.”

The words hit you like a lightning strike, and you’re sure he can hear the hitch in your breath, even though you try to hide it.

You force yourself to nod, your mind racing. If you agree to this, you’ll be tying yourself to Steve in ways you’ve only dreamed about—and yet, it won’t be real. Not for him.

But then again, isn’t that better than nothing?

“Alright,” you say softly, the word barely audible.

Steve’s gaze snaps back to you, his brows knitting together in surprise. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle but insistent. “You don’t have to decide now.”

“I’m sure,” you say, more firmly this time. “If it’ll... help, then I’ll do it.”

He studies you for a long moment, and you wonder if he can see through the careful mask you’re wearing. If he knows how much of this decision is driven not by logic, but by the love you’ve kept hidden from him for so long.

Finally, he nods, a small, relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright,” he says. “Then we’ll make it work. Together.”

Together.

The word echoes in your mind, a promise and a torment all at once.

And as Steve begins outlining the next steps, his voice steady and reassuring, you can’t help but wonder how long you’ll be able to keep your feelings buried now that the future you’ve always wanted is so tantalizingly close—and yet, still out of reach.

The weeks pass in a blur of arrangements. You’d never thought a wedding—your wedding—would be so impersonal, a series of carefully orchestrated events where your opinion seems to matter the least. Your family dominates every decision, from the floral arrangements to the guest list, while Steve listens patiently, occasionally intervening with quiet authority when the plans grow too elaborate or stray too far from practicality.

“We don’t need a five-tiered cake,” he says during one such discussion, his tone calm but firm. He sits beside you at the long dining table, his fingers grazing yours briefly under the polished surface. “Something simpler will do just fine.”

Your mother sniffs delicately, clearly displeased. “Simpler isn’t what people expect from a union like this, Steve,” she says, as if this is the most pressing concern. She doesn’t even glance at you when she says it, her sharp gaze fixed on Steve as if she can convince him to reconsider with sheer willpower.

He doesn’t flinch. “They’ll have to manage their expectations,” he replies smoothly, leaning back in his chair.

You catch yourself staring at him, your heart swelling with a quiet gratitude you don’t know how to express. Moments like this, small but significant, remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place. Steve Rogers has always been unshakable, a solid presence in the chaos of your life.

Still, your mother isn’t the type to back down easily.

“I just think,” she says, her voice laced with sugar-coated venom, “that Sharon would have been better suited to manage the kind of attention this marriage will bring. She’s always been... more poised under pressure.”

The words are a knife, slipping between your ribs before you even realize it. You glance down at your hands, your fingernails biting into your palms. This isn’t the first time she’s made such a comment, and it won’t be the last.

“Y/N is perfectly capable of handling herself,” Steve says, his voice cold enough to frost the edges of the room. “And if anyone has an issue with her, they’ll have to take it up with me.”

The silence that follows is heavy, your mother pursing her lips in annoyance but wisely deciding not to push further. You feel Steve’s gaze on you, but you keep your eyes fixed on the tablecloth, unwilling to let him see the cracks forming in your carefully constructed composure.

Later that evening, when the guests have gone and the house has fallen silent, you find yourself standing by the window of the guest room Steve insisted you use whenever you stayed over. The city lights shimmer in the distance, blurred by the tears you refuse to let fall.

You don’t hear him enter, but you feel his presence before he speaks.

“Y/N?” His voice is gentle, almost hesitant.

You wipe at your eyes quickly and turn to face him, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He doesn’t buy the act for a second. He never does.

“They shouldn’t have said those things,” he says quietly, his expression shadowed with anger and something deeper, something protective.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” you say, trying to brush it off. But the tremor in your voice betrays you, and Steve’s jaw tightens.

“It’s not nothing,” he says, stepping closer. His hand hovers near yours, as if he’s waiting for permission to close the distance. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that, not from them or anyone else.”

You want to argue, to tell him that it’s fine, that you’re used to it—but the words catch in your throat, strangled by the weight of years spent trying to live up to impossible expectations.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you whisper instead, your voice barely audible. “How you always seem so... steady, even when everything’s falling apart.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m not as steady as you think,” he says. “But when it comes to you...” He trails off, his gaze softening. “I just want to make things easier for you, Y/N. Even if it’s just a little.”

The vulnerability in his voice undoes you. Before you can stop yourself, you reach out and take his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you in a way nothing else can.

“Thank you,” you say, the words simple but heavy with meaning.

His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, a small, comforting gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to stay like this forever, to let go of all the fear and doubt and simply trust in the man standing before you.

The moment doesn’t last.

The wedding approaches faster than you anticipate, each day bringing new challenges and fresh reminders of your family’s disapproval. Sharon, in particular, takes every opportunity to remind you of what she sees as your inadequacy, her words barbed and cutting.

“You should really work on your posture,” she says one afternoon as you stand for yet another fitting. “You’ll be photographed from every angle, and we wouldn’t want people to think you’re uncomfortable in your own skin.”

You grit your teeth and force a polite smile, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Steve, however, is less inclined to stay silent. “I think she looks perfect,” he says from where he’s leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. His tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it that makes Sharon’s smile falter.

“Of course,” Sharon says smoothly, recovering quickly. “I’m just offering some advice. You know how the press can be.”

Steve doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting to you instead. “Ready to go?” he asks, his expression softening.

You nod, grateful for the excuse to escape.

In the car, the tension in your shoulders begins to ease, the quiet hum of the engine a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day. Steve drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console.

“You okay?” he asks after a while, his voice low.

“I’m fine,” you say automatically.

He glances at you, his blue eyes full of quiet concern. “You don’t have to be fine all the time, you know.”

The words hit you harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over.

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road without hesitation, cutting the engine. He turns to you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you’re afraid he might say something that will break you completely.

Instead, he reaches out and takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Y/N,” he says softly, “you’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for. But you don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

His words unravel something deep inside you, and you let out a shaky breath, the weight of everything finally catching up to you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, ashamed of your tears.

“Don’t be,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too much to bear, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

The wedding day arrives sooner than you expect, the morning a whirlwind of activity and last-minute preparations. Your family is on their best behavior, their smiles polished and their words carefully measured. But you can feel the tension simmering beneath the surface, a reminder of all the unspoken grievances and unmet expectations that have defined your relationship with them.

Steve, however, is a calming presence throughout it all. He stays by your side whenever he can, his quiet strength a constant source of reassurance.

When you finally stand at the altar, his hands holding yours, the world seems to fade away.

“You ready?” he whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You nod, your heart pounding. “Yeah,” you say, your voice steady.

And for the first time in years, you feel like you might actually mean it.

The moment the car pulls up to Steve’s penthouse, your breath catches in your throat. It’s not that you didn’t know it would be beautiful—everything about the Rogers family speaks of understated elegance and wealth—but seeing it in person is something else entirely.

The building is sleek and modern, towering over the city with floor-to-ceiling windows that glint in the afternoon sun. The lobby is quiet and luxurious, with polished marble floors and discreet staff who greet Steve with quiet deference as you walk through.

The elevator ride to the top floor feels endless, even though you know it’s only a matter of seconds. Steve stands beside you, his hands in his pockets, his expression calm and unreadable.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he says softly, glancing at you.

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, gripping your clutch like it might save you from drowning.

He doesn’t call you out on it, just offers a small smile as the elevator doors slide open.

The penthouse is breathtaking.

The first thing you notice is the light. Floor-to-ceiling windows span almost the entire space, offering an uninterrupted view of the city skyline. The open-concept design is modern but warm, with sleek furniture in neutral tones and touches of warmth in the form of rich wood accents and soft throws draped over the sofas.

But what strikes you most is how... lived-in it feels. There are signs of Steve everywhere: books stacked neatly on a low table, a well-used leather armchair in one corner, and a collection of vintage records on a shelf near the fireplace.

“You don’t have to unpack everything today,” Steve says as you step inside, his voice cutting through your awe. “Take your time.”

You turn to him, unsure of what to say. “It’s beautiful,” you manage.

He smiles, a little sheepish. “Thanks. I had it redone a few years ago. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home.”

Home. The word feels strange on your tongue, foreign in a way that makes your chest ache.

Steve seems to sense your hesitation. “Come on,” he says gently, nodding toward a hallway. “I’ll show you to your room.”

You follow him, your heels clicking softly against the polished floors. The hallway leads to a series of doors, and Steve stops in front of one near the end.

“This is yours,” he says, pushing the door open.

The room is spacious and bright, with soft, neutral tones and a large bed that looks like it belongs in a luxury hotel. A vase of fresh flowers sits on the nightstand, their fragrance subtle but soothing.

“It’s perfect,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad you like it.” He hesitates, then nods toward the door across the hall. “That’s my room. I figured you’d want your own space.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh. I... thank you.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly awkward. “I meant what I said before,” he says. “I’m not expecting anything from you, Y/N. This arrangement... it’s about giving you a chance to breathe, not making you feel trapped.”

The sincerity in his voice is overwhelming, and for a moment, all you can do is nod.

That night, as you lie in the unfamiliar comfort of your new bed, you think about his words. About how, for the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel like you can finally exhale.

The first few weeks of married life are surreal.

Steve is considerate to a fault, never overstepping boundaries or making you feel uncomfortable. He leaves early for work most mornings, though he always makes sure there’s coffee brewing and a note on the counter with a simple message—Take your time today or Call if you need anything.

You spend your days exploring the penthouse, slowly making the space your own. Steve encourages it, even going out of his way to pick up little things he thinks you might like—a throw pillow in your favorite color, a set of candles that smell like lavender.

At night, the two of you settle into a routine of quiet companionship. Sometimes you watch movies together, sitting on opposite ends of the couch with a bowl of popcorn between you. Other times, you talk about nothing and everything—his work, your favorite books, the quirks of city life.

It’s easy, in a way you never expected.

But the outside world is harder to ignore.

The first time the two of you go out together as a married couple, the paparazzi are relentless.

You’re having dinner at a quiet restaurant Steve picked specifically for its privacy, but as soon as you step outside, cameras flash like fireworks, and voices shout questions you’re too overwhelmed to process.

“Steve! Over here!” “Y/N, how does it feel to marry into the Rogers family?” “Any truth to the rumors that Sharon was the first choice?”

The last question hits you like a slap, and you flinch despite yourself. Steve notices immediately, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back as he steers you toward the waiting car.

“Don’t listen to them,” he says quietly as the driver pulls away from the curb.

“It’s hard not to,” you admit, staring down at your hands.

He doesn’t respond right away, but when you glance up, you find him watching you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he says finally. “Least of all them.”

His words linger in your mind long after you return home, and you find yourself replaying them whenever the gossip columns grow particularly vicious.

It’s not all bad, though. There are moments of levity that catch you off guard, moments when Steve’s dry humor or unexpected playfulness makes you laugh so hard you forget the world outside entirely.

Like the time you catch him trying to teach himself how to cook.

“Steve,” you say, barely holding back a laugh as you step into the kitchen and find him staring intently at a cookbook, his apron already dusted with flour. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make pancakes,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“At eight o’clock at night?”

“Breakfast for dinner is underrated,” he says with a grin.

The pancakes are terrible—burnt on the outside, raw on the inside—but you eat them anyway, laughing together at the absurdity of it all.

Moments like these, small and unexpected, are what make you realize how dangerous this arrangement is becoming.

Because the more time you spend with Steve, the harder it is to ignore the feelings you’ve spent years trying to bury.

It happens gradually, the way you and Steve grow closer.

He starts leaving his door open at night, and sometimes you find yourself lingering in the hallway, talking until your voices grow soft and drowsy. Other times, he joins you on the couch, sitting closer than usual as the two of you share a blanket and argue over what to watch.

The tension between you is subtle but undeniable, a quiet hum that grows louder with each passing day.

One night, after a particularly long dinner with your family—where your mother spent most of the evening hinting that it wasn’t too late for Steve to change his mind—you come home feeling like you might shatter.

Steve finds you sitting on the floor of the living room, your knees pulled to your chest as you stare out the window.

“They’re not worth this,” he says softly, sitting down beside you.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice thick with unshed tears. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. The warmth of his embrace is comforting, and for the first time that night, you feel like you can breathe.

“You deserve better,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

You don’t respond, but the way you lean into him says more than words ever could.

The months slip by, and the world outside continues to watch, speculate, and gossip. But inside the walls of the penthouse, you and Steve carve out a life that feels uniquely yours.

It’s not perfect—there are moments of doubt and miscommunication, times when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under. But there are also moments of joy and connection, moments that remind you why you agreed to this in the first place.

And as you sit together one night, sharing a quiet meal and laughing over something inconsequential, you realize that somewhere along the way, this marriage stopped feeling like an arrangement.

It started feeling like home.

The nights blur together in a haze of quiet companionship. You and Steve continue to drift closer, though neither of you acknowledges it outright. It’s in the little things: the way he pours your coffee just the way you like it without asking, the way you find yourself lingering in the kitchen just to hear him hum softly while he cooks.

And then there’s the night everything changes.

It starts innocently enough. You’re sitting on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs as you both watch a late-night movie. Steve looks as relaxed as you’ve ever seen him, his long legs stretched out on the ottoman, his arm resting along the back of the couch.

“You’re going to fall asleep,” he teases when your head droops for the third time.

“I’m not,” you mumble, though the weight of your eyelids betrays you.

He chuckles softly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

You barely manage to shuffle down the hallway, exhaustion tugging at your every step. When you finally collapse onto the edge of your bed, you don’t even bother to change out of your clothes, too tired to care.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Steve says from the doorway, but you’re already slipping into unconsciousness.

When you wake up hours later, it takes you a moment to realize what’s different. The room is dark, but the steady warmth beside you is unmistakable.

You turn your head, your breath catching as you see Steve sprawled on his back, one arm draped over his face. He must have come to check on you and fallen asleep without meaning to.

For a moment, you think about waking him, but something stops you. Maybe it’s the way his face looks so peaceful in sleep, or maybe it’s the comfort of his presence. Whatever the reason, you close your eyes again, letting the soft rhythm of his breathing lull you back to sleep.

The next morning, you expect things to feel awkward, but Steve acts as if nothing unusual happened. If anything, he seems more relaxed, his smile a little softer, his touches lingering just a fraction longer.

That night, as you stand in the doorway of your room, you hesitate.

“Steve?” you call, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up from his place on the couch, his book resting in his lap. “Yeah?”

“Would you—” You hesitate, your cheeks flushing. “Would you mind sleeping here again? I just... I slept better with you there.”

You half expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he closes his book and sets it aside, his expression unreadable.

“Of course,” he says simply.

The warmth that spreads through your chest is almost overwhelming.

That night, you fall asleep with the quiet reassurance of his presence beside you, and when you wake up to find his arm draped lightly over your waist, you don’t move.

The next few weeks are a delicate balancing act. You and Steve don’t talk about the nights you spend together, but they quickly become a routine. He starts reading in your room before bed, and you find yourself looking forward to the quiet moments before sleep when you can hear the low timbre of his voice as he reads aloud.

But the outside world isn’t as accommodating.

It begins at a family dinner, one of the infrequent but mandatory gatherings your mother insists on hosting. The Rogers family is there, Steve’s parents a picture of poise and sophistication. Your own family is on their best behavior at first, their voices sugary sweet as they discuss inconsequential topics.

But then the conversation shifts.

“So,” your mother says, fixing you with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “How are you settling in? Married life seems to agree with you.”

“It does,” you say, keeping your tone polite.

“It must be so exciting,” Sharon interjects, her voice dripping with feigned enthusiasm. “Starting a life together, building a future...” She pauses, her eyes gleaming. “Planning for children.”

Your fork stills on your plate, but before you can respond, your mother jumps in.

“Yes, children are so important, aren’t they?” she says, looking pointedly at you. “I’m sure you’ll want to start soon, won’t you? After all, a family name like Rogers needs an heir.”

Your stomach churns, but you force a smile. “We’re taking things one step at a time,” you say evenly.

“Oh, but don’t wait too long,” your mother continues, ignoring your words entirely. “Sharon always said she wanted at least three. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Sharon smiles sweetly. “Of course. I’d already have one by now if I were in Y/N’s position.”

The words hang heavy in the air, a pointed reminder of everything they think you’re failing to be.

Steve’s fork clinks against his plate, and when you glance at him, his expression is stony.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Y/N and I will handle things in our own time. And I’d appreciate it if we could leave it at that.”

Your mother’s smile falters, but she quickly recovers, smoothing her napkin over her lap. “Of course,” she says, her tone saccharine. “We’re just so eager for you two to start a family. It’s such a big responsibility, being part of the Rogers legacy.”

Steve doesn’t respond, his jaw tight. You don’t miss the way his mother raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your family’s behavior.

The rest of the dinner passes in strained silence, and by the time you return home, your nerves are frayed.

“I’m sorry,” you say as soon as the door closes behind you.

Steve frowns, shrugging off his jacket. “What are you apologizing for?”

“For them,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself. “For the way they act, the things they say... It’s not fair to you.”

Steve crosses the room in two strides, his hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “Y/N,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to apologize for them. None of this is your fault.”

You nod, though the knot in your chest remains.

He hesitates, then pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet strength that makes your knees weak.

“They don’t get to define you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your hair. “Not them, not anyone. You’re more than enough, Y/N. You always have been.”

The words break something inside you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself cry.

Steve doesn’t let go, holding you tightly until the tears finally subside. And when you pull back to look at him, the tenderness in his gaze steals the breath from your lungs.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Always,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

That night, as you lie in bed with Steve’s arm draped protectively around you, you feel something shift. The walls you’ve spent years building are starting to crumble, and for once, you’re not afraid.

The nights you share become a solace, a quiet refuge from the chaos of the outside world. Steve is patient, never pushing, always letting you set the pace. And though neither of you says it outright, the way he holds you, the way he looks at you, speaks volumes.

Your family continues to hover on the periphery, their expectations weighing heavy. But with Steve by your side, the weight feels a little easier to bear.

And as the days turn into weeks, you find yourself wondering if maybe, just maybe, this could be more than an arrangement.

Maybe it already is.

The penthouse is quiet, save for the soft hum of the city below. You’re curled up on the couch, your laptop balanced precariously on your knees as you type furiously. Working from home has its perks—no dress code, no commute—but today, your focus feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.

The ache in your neck reminds you that you’ve been hunched over for hours, so you decide to take a break. Stretching out your legs, you grab your phone from the coffee table and unlock it.

Scrolling aimlessly through your feed, you skim past news articles, memes, and a few updates from friends. And then you see it.

A headline that makes your blood run cold.

“Steve Rogers Spotted Cozying Up to Wife’s Sister: Is Trouble Brewing in Paradise?”

Your thumb hovers over the screen, trembling. Against your better judgment, you click the link.

The article is riddled with speculation, but it’s the photos that steal the breath from your lungs. One shows Steve and Sharon standing close in what looks like a cozy café, their heads tilted toward each other as if sharing an intimate moment. Another shows Sharon touching Steve’s arm, her smile coy.

The accompanying text twists the knife deeper: Sources say the two have been seen together frequently in recent weeks, sparking rumors of a secret affair. Could Sharon have been Steve’s first choice all along?

Your stomach churns. You know it’s ridiculous—you know Steve, the man who has been nothing but kind and devoted to you, would never betray you like this. But the images... the way they seem to tell a story you don’t want to believe... it’s too much.

Tears blur your vision as you toss your phone aside.

The door clicks open a moment later, and you hear Steve’s familiar footsteps in the foyer.

“Y/N?” he calls, his voice warm but tinged with concern. “I’m home.”

You don’t respond, your hands clenched into fists against your lap as you try to hold back the sob building in your throat.

When Steve appears in the living room, his expression shifts instantly. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He’s beside you in an instant, crouching down so he can look up into your tear-streaked face.

You shake your head, but the tears spill over anyway. “I... I saw something,” you choke out.

His brows knit together in worry. “What did you see?”

You reach for your phone with trembling hands, pulling up the article and thrusting it toward him. He takes it from you, his eyes scanning the screen with growing disbelief.

“Y/N,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“How can it not be?” you whisper, your voice breaking. “The photos... they look so—”

“They’re misleading,” he cuts in gently, his hands reaching for yours. “Please, let me explain.”

You look at him, searching his face for any hint of deceit, but all you see is the same Steve you’ve always known—the man who has been your rock through every storm.

“I ran into Sharon a few weeks ago,” he begins. “She approached me. She wanted to talk, to clear the air about everything that happened between us.”

“And you went to a café with her?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“Yes,” he admits, his gaze unwavering. “Because I wanted to make it clear that my choice was you, Y/N. It’s alwaysbeen you. She was upset, and I didn’t want there to be any lingering tension. But that’s all it was—just a conversation. Nothing more.”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable, and yet your heart still aches. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to upset you,” he says softly. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning because, to me, it didn’t mean anything. But I see now that I should have been honest with you from the start. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You look down at your hands, your tears falling silently onto your lap. “I felt like such a fool,” you admit.

“You’re not a fool,” he says firmly, his hands tightening around yours. “You’re the smartest, strongest, most incredible woman I’ve ever known. And I would never, never do anything to hurt you.”

The weight of his words sinks into you, and when you finally meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away.

“I love you, Y/N,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And this marriage—it started as a way to protect you, but somewhere along the way, it became so much more. You’re my everything.”

Your breath hitches, tears spilling over anew. “Steve...”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I need you to know that my heart is yours. It always has been.”

You shake your head, your hands clutching at his shirt as a sob escapes you. “I do,” you whisper. “I love you too, Steve. I’ve loved you for so long, but I was so afraid you didn’t feel the same.”

A soft, disbelieving laugh escapes him, and his forehead rests against yours. “God, Y/N,” he breathes. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.”

The air between you shifts, charged with unspoken longing. His hands slide from your face to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips hover just inches from yours.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

You nod, your heart pounding as his lips finally meet yours.

The kiss is slow at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid to push too far. But the moment your hands slide into his hair, pulling him closer, the restraint breaks.

Steve lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom without breaking the kiss. The world fades away, leaving only the two of you as he lays you gently on the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.

“Yes,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you reach for him. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

What follows is a blur of heat and emotion, the culmination of years of unspoken love and longing. Steve’s hands explore every inch of you, his touch reverent, as if memorizing the very essence of you.

He whispers your name like a prayer, his lips tracing a path along your skin as he worships you with a devotion that leaves you breathless.

And when he finally joins you, the connection is so overwhelming, so all-encompassing, that it feels as if the pieces of your heart are finally falling into place.

Afterward, as you lie tangled together in the sheets, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace you’ve never known before.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice soft but sure.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

And for the first time, you realize that the life you’ve built together isn’t just an arrangement. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted—and so much more.

Things change between you and Steve in ways that are both subtle and monumental. Gone is the polite distance, the carefully maintained boundaries. In its place is something real, something undeniable.

Steve is more affectionate now, his touches lingering longer, his kisses coming more frequently. He pulls you into his lap when you’re watching TV, twirls you around the kitchen while dinner simmers on the stove, and presses his lips to the back of your neck as you work at your laptop.

You, in turn, find yourself doing little things for him—pressing his shirts for work even though he’s perfectly capable of doing it himself, surprising him with homemade cookies when he mentions a craving, sneaking into his office at lunch just to kiss him.

The shift doesn’t go unnoticed, especially at family dinners.

On the next one, held at your parents’ estate, the tension in the air is palpable from the moment you walk in. You and Steve arrive arm in arm, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back. When you lean into him slightly as your mother greets you, Sharon’s eyes narrow.

The evening unfolds as expected: your parents ask loaded questions about your life together, Sharon hovers like a shadow, and the Rogers look vaguely unimpressed by everything.

But something’s different.

You’re not the quiet, uncertain woman who let her family’s jabs and comparisons chip away at her. Not anymore. Steve’s presence beside you, his unwavering support, has given you a strength you didn’t know you had.

When your mother comments on how lovely Sharon looks, her gaze darting toward Steve as if to gauge his reaction, you smile sweetly.

“Yes, Sharon’s always been so polished,” you say, lacing your fingers through Steve’s. “But I think I’ve been glowing lately. Don’t you think, Steve?”

He looks down at you, his eyes warm and amused. “Absolutely,” he says without hesitation. “You’re the most beautiful woman in any room.”

Your mother’s smile falters, and Sharon’s fork clatters against her plate. You don’t miss the way her cheeks flush with anger, nor the way she glares at you when she thinks no one’s looking.

Dinner continues in much the same way. Every time Sharon tries to draw Steve’s attention or steer the conversation in her favor, Steve redirects it back to you.

“You must miss being on the dating scene, Steve,” Sharon says at one point, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

“Not at all,” Steve replies easily, his hand resting on your knee under the table. “I’ve got everything I could ever want right here.”

By the time dessert is served, Sharon looks ready to explode. You sip your coffee with a smug smile, enjoying the rare satisfaction of seeing her knocked off her pedestal.

After dinner, your parents pull you and Steve aside.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” your mother suggests, her tone saccharine. “It’s been so long since you spent any real time here. We could all have breakfast together tomorrow.”

Steve hesitates, glancing at you. He’s always careful not to push you into situations you might not want, but tonight, you feel bold.

“That sounds lovely,” you say, surprising even yourself.

Your mother beams, clearly pleased to have you under her thumb for a little longer. Sharon’s jaw tightens, and you can’t help but enjoy the way her evening seems to be going from bad to worse.

Your old bedroom hasn’t changed much. The floral wallpaper, the antique vanity, the plush pink comforter—it’s all a reminder of the girl you used to be.

Steve steps inside, looking almost out of place in the overly feminine space. He closes the door behind him, his eyes sweeping over the room before landing on you.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, his voice low.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m more than okay.”

His hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. “You were amazing tonight,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Did you see Sharon’s face?” you ask, grinning. “She looked like she wanted to scream.”

Steve chuckles, his lips brushing against your temple. “You were enjoying that a little too much.”

“Maybe,” you admit, your grin widening. “But can you blame me?”

He laughs again, his hands sliding up your back. The mood shifts as his laughter fades, replaced by something deeper, something more intense.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips.

The heat in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine, and before you can respond, his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is slow and deliberate, his hands roaming your body with a reverence that leaves you breathless. When he lifts you onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress, you feel a thrill of anticipation.

You arch against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses a trail down your neck. The sounds you make are uninhibited, each gasp and moan spilling from your lips without thought.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your hands gripping his shoulders. “I want this. I want you.”

Your heart pounds as he takes his time, his touch both gentle and insistent. Every caress, every kiss, every whispered word is a promise, a reminder of the love you share.

When he finally moves within you, the sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. The headboard creaks against the wall, and you can’t help the sounds that escape you—louder, more desperate, as you lose yourself in the moment.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember that Sharon’s room is on the other side of the wall, but instead of holding back, you let the knowledge fuel you.

Steve seems to sense it too, his movements becoming more deliberate, his mouth capturing your cries in heated kisses.

Afterward, as you lie tangled together in the aftermath, your skin slick with sweat and your heart still racing, you can’t help but smile.

“You’re incredible,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“So are you,” you reply, turning to kiss him softly.

The satisfaction of the night lingers as you drift off in his arms, the weight of your love for each other wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

The next morning, Sharon avoids you entirely, her lips pressed into a tight line as you join the family for breakfast. You sip your coffee with a serene smile, enjoying the quiet triumph of knowing that for once, she’s the one who’s been bested.

Steve catches your eye across the table, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. You’ve never felt more certain that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[slytherinshua]

NIGHTS WITH YOU

genre. fluff. warnings. food (ramen). pairing. soobin x fem!reader. wc. 700. request. requested by @blue-jisungs (my baby) for #25: "are those my clothes" and #34: "where's my goodnight kiss?" a/n. i've been writing just so much sleepy fluff either sleepy morning fluff or sleepy bedtime fluff im not complaining cause its always so soft but yeah :(

Soobin stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with a towel. His eyes immediately scoured around the room for you, and when he didn’t find you anywhere, a frown etched on his face. Since he had been at practice all day, you forced him to take a shower before delivering any hugs or kisses, despite how much he begged for them. It was a reasonable request, of course. He was sweaty and stinky— of course you’d rather kiss a clean Soobin. But your boyfriend hadn’t seen you all day and simply needed to be as close to you as possible for the rest of the night. 

He located you quickly, following the smell of spicy noodles to the kitchen. His eyes softened as he saw your figure, wearing one of his black t-shirts.  He pouted, coming up behind you to hold you in a back hug. 

“Are those my clothes?” He asked softly, a giddy smile growing on his face as soon as you laughed.

“You left your drawer open. They were practically asking for me to take them. Plus, they’re more comfortable than my pyjamas.” You said simply, stirring the sauce packet into the pot of ramen noodles you were preparing. 

Although Soobin’s shirts were much too big for you to wear daily, they made for the perfect oversized sleeping garment. As they were designed to fit your 6 foot man both height wise and broad back wise, they practically swallowed your figure. But you loved it, especially the way the shirts smelled exactly like your boyfriend. Soobin didn’t mind. How could he when you looked so cute in his clothes?

“We already share everything anyway. Including that ramen—?“

“No! You’re not getting any!” You shoved your boyfriend off of your back, defensively shielding the ramen pot from his prying hands. He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find a way through, but each reach he took got expertly blocked by your chopsticks.

“That is not one bite. That’s like, 6 at least!” You slouched back onto Soobin’s chest, keeping up your pretend grumpiness after you had finally agreed to give him just one bite. Truthfully, you had prepared the ramen more for him than you in the first place. You just wanted to see him eat well after practice. But it was always fun to tease him. Admitting that you carefully prepared them for your boyfriend would make you look unbelievably whipped. Which you were, but you weren’t about to admit it out in the open.

“Here, open up.” Soobin said, holding the chopsticks up for you, feeding you the bite of ramen carefully. Maybe he was just as equally whipped. You whipped your frown off your face and snuggled closer to your boyfriend, enveloped by his fresh scent and warm skin. 

“I can’t believe Beomgyu got to see you more this week than me. It’s not fair.” You sighed, thinking back to the past couple of days. Even when Soobin didn't have a schedule, he’d busied himself in the company building with Beomgyu, playing games or writing lyrics. 

You had nothing against the younger member, you were as close to him as you were any of Soobin’s friends. But nothing hit you quite as hard as the loneliness you felt when Soobin was away from you. It felt nice to be back in his arms, knowing that there was nothing left for that day that would prevent you from falling asleep and waking up next to him. 

“Where’s my goodnight kiss?” Soobin asked once you were back in his arms after doing the dishes. 

“Right here.” You smiled, cupping his cheeks to bring his face down to your lips. As always, Soobin’s lips tasted heavenly. And, just like always, Soobin was the clingier of you two. He chased your lips every time you pulled away, causing you both to giggle. Countless soft pecks were placed around your face until his head hit the pillow and he gathered you up in his arms, close enough to hear his relaxed breath and steady heart beat. The rhythm lulled you to sleep, head resting against his chest and your back blanketed by his arms.

↳ txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @minholing,,

@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @heavenfilm,,

@sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss

[leonsdolly]

Dog Days

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're sick, but Leon's here to take care of you.

CW: fluff, comfort

WC: 785

A/n: looks like everyone's sick rn !!! ruru, this one's for you since you also got sick (╥﹏╥) sending you all the love and best wishes so that you can feel better @laceycoffins (๑-﹏-๑)

“Leon…” Your whines fly weakly through the room and hit your boyfriend’s ears in the living room. “Leonnnn…” It takes everything in you to muster up enough energy to call out his name.

You hear a sigh before the sound of his footsteps make their way to your shared bedroom. “Everything okay, baby?” He internally coos at the sight of you laying in bed with a cool rag over your forehead and thin covers pulled up to your chest. You’re like a woodland creature of sorts, a little dormouse curled up snugly in its burrow for the winter. Except it isn't winter. The scorching early July sun looms over the city, ready to penetrate through your lace curtains and exacerbate the fever plaguing your body. You pout up at him as you feebly lift your arms out for him.

“What do you need, baby?” He chuckles as he takes one of your hands in his. “Just brought you more fluids, changed that washcloth, made your bed ‘til you said it was comfy enough.”

“I need you,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. Did he really expect his needy girl to recover through her illness without being pressed up against him 24/7? Would he also let her succumb to the bubonic plague, damning her to a burial pit on the outskirts of a European city in the 14th century? He sighs and lifts the washcloth on your forehead to feel it with the back of his hand. He turns his hand over to rub soothingly at your forehead, and suddenly you're a child again, relishing in your mother's healing touch over your little ailing body while her dramas blare in the background and the aroma of spicy noodle soup invigorates you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief of his cool touch against your warmed skin. He lifts the blanket up to slide in next to you, and when you open your eyes again, he's wrapping his arms around you.

“Weren't you bitching about how you can't get sick right now?” You snuggle against him, enraptured by the way his warm breath hits the top of your head when he chuckles.

“You’re a pain, you know that?” He drops a kiss on your hair. “Can’t have my baby suffering, that's all there is to it. Even if your snot gets all over me.”

“Whatev-” your croak is intercepted by a coughing fit that erupts from within your lungs.

“Sound like the exorcist girl.”

“You have such a way with words.” You bat your eyes like you’re really head over heels for this man. Which you are.

“Look like her too,” he says pointedly at the god-awful leakage dripping from your nostrils.

“When his love language is words of affirmation.”

He grunts as he snakes an arm over to pluck a lone tissue from the nightstand and pinches your nose with it. “Blow.”

“You know I don’t ever say no to that,” you joke as you close your eyes and force the air to expel through your clogged sinuses and into the flimsy tissue Leon holds.

“Now you sound like a lawn mower. Or a chainsaw.” He tosses the tissue into a spare plastic bag you’re using for trash before vigorously sanitizing his hands which makes you giggle.

You tuck your face into his chest, feeling the cooling fabric against your flushed cheeks. Nothing is quite more miserable than falling ill alone during the hottest months of the year. He’s your relief against the hazy summer world just outside your windows, threatening to seep in and shake your body’s best efforts to maintain homeostasis. Your symptoms are alleviated by his mere presence, and his hands are the most effective treatment in your frail state. His familiar scent envelopes your senses even through your congestion, whispering words of reassurance into the depths of your brain like you’re that little girl laying in your mother’s soft arms again. The bottle  of generic acetaminophen laying on your nightstand fails in efficacy when Leon’s around.

“Love you,” you mumble against his shirt as he repeats it back, and you cling to him for all that you’ve got in your weakened condition. This is your source of wellness, your reason for waking up every morning and braving through the travails of life. The love is mutual - you’re his sole reason for fighting. There’s a plethora of horrors alive and breathing in this world that you’ll never have to witness; he’ll make sure of that until he’s drawn his last breath. But for now, he’s content in just holding you close while the summer heat rages on outside the walls of your home.

[cottonlemonade]

Time Well Spent

word count: 984 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: suggestive, fluff

warnings: mdni

request: medium guava lemonade with frozen berries for Shinsuke || fluffy-spicy vacation with boyfriend Shinsuke

If you would ask anyone on the street they‘d all agree that Kita was a devoted, patient, and sweet-mannered grandson and when he started dating you two years ago fresh out of university, everyone thought that you were a great match. Walking hand in hand around the small town was almost guaranteed to spark questions of marriage or an armful of some fresh vegetable that an overly excited grandmother wanted to share with the happy couple.

So when you moved in together this summer, there was gossip about an impending wedding, but Kita shot it down immediately. Not, because he didn‘t want to marry you - he would have done so long ago if he wasn‘t worried of rushing you. But because he thought things were too hectic currently to even think about any kind of ceremony. His grandmother had come to visit. Or better, to stay as it seemed. In a surge of energy, she asked a local carpenter to completely redo her house, and, not wanting her to be inconvenienced staying somewhere else, you and Kita were quick to invite her to your new home. The downside was, the walls were very thin and she had been there for over a month. You both already missed the intimacy and freedom you had just acquired and as much as you loved Yumi, you missed having your boyfriend to yourself.

“Are you sure it‘s no problem?“, you asked for the hundredth time as Kita carried the last piece of luggage to his truck.

“None at all, sweetheart.“, Yumi said, patting your full cheek gently, “Ya two deserve some time off. Always workin‘ like that... That‘s not good for yer soul.“

“We‘ll be back in three days.“

“I know.“, Yumi laughed, “Believe it or not, I have lived on my own before, y/n-chan.“

You gave her one more hug, Kita received a pat on the head and together you got in the car, and off you went. The drive to the city wasn‘t very long, luckily and you sighed contently as you watched the sun set over the many rice paddies you drove past. Kita had his free hand entwined with yours on the middle console and rubbed his thumb soothingly over your soft skin. You couldn’t wait to be alone with him for three whole days and you knew he felt the same way.

“Almost there, dove.“, he said as the truck, seemingly out of place between all the gleaming city cars, turned right on an intersection. As he drove, a big building with flashy castle-like turrets came into view and you were just about to point it out and make a comment about how comical it looked when Kita pulled into the parking lot.

“Uhm, babe? Are you sure this is the right place?“

“Very.“, he said as he opened the door for you and held out his hand to you.

You looked around, noting the many windows with the curtains drawn. It was barely dinner time, you expected there to be a lot more bustling.

The reception desk had you do a double take. Only a small opening in an otherwise milky window gave any indication that there was a person on the other side.

Kita retrieved your keys and held out his hand again.

“Ya ready, dove?“

Your eyes fell onto the many brochures tucked into a little stand next to the reception and realization dawned. This was a love hotel. Did… did Kita book it accidentally? It wouldn‘t be strange for your sometimes densely innocent boyfriend to think that maybe for your special weekend off, he should look for something extra romantic. And what was more romantic than a hotel with the word love in the title?

As you waited for the elevator you tried to think of a way to bring it up without sounding patronizing. The thought process was an adorable one for sure.

“11… 11… 9, 10, 11. Here we are.“, he announced and opened the door.

The room was a whole lot tamer than you expected, judging from the dark atmospheric hallway and those brochures in the lobby. It was pretty cute, actually. The bed was ginormous and strewn with rose petals like you‘d expect a honeymoon suite to be. It had a soft, traditional feel to it. Setting down the bags by the door and kicking off your shoes you went to explore and froze in your tracks when you saw a whole array of condoms on the coffee table by the large TV. You should tell him.

“Honey, I love that you booked the hotel and everything-“ You were cut off by him coming up behind you and kissing your neck. His strong arm wrapped around your soft tummy and pulled you against him. Your eyes fluttered shut and, once you gathered your thoughts, you tried again.

“Did you check the website when you booked it?“

He hummed Yes against your skin, his lips and tongue making it very difficult to focus on what you wanted to say.

Squeezing your eyes shut you decided to just tell him. “This is a love hotel.“

Silence. Kita‘s lips brushed one more time against that spot under your ear that always drove you crazy, then broke from you. You turned around, expecting to see him confused.

And he was. “I know.“, he said with a questioning eyebrow.

You pushed further, worried that your point didn‘t come across. “You… do you know what love hotels are for?“

He nodded. “Yeah.“

With one swift motion, he grabbed one of the condoms from the coffee table and, guiding you backward by your hips it didn‘t take long for you to fall back onto the supremely soft sheets. Kita stood over you, using one hand to undo his jeans, the other to open the packaging with his teeth. He smiled down at your surprised blush. “I‘m very well aware.“

a/n: thank you so much for your request, hon. I hope it was somewhat what you had in mind 😏🌟 @ranscutedoll

And what is a post of mine without a thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for having the sparking idea!

[moonmaiden1996]

Totally agree 💯 with your thoughts on Sanji as a romantic partner (he's my favourite 🥰). What is your opinion on him as a sexual partner? I somehow see him still as a virgin (would have died from that massive nosebleeding) 🤣 and shy, afraid of not pleasing his woman. Maybe more vanilla than into kinks. Lot of cuddling, kissing and holding hands. 🤔 What you think?

I love this question. Sanji is also my fav- you have good taste.

Okay, buckle up, folks—I've put some serious thought into this, and here comes a full-blown essay.

First off, I’m convinced Sanji is a virgin. Hear me out. I think even Oda might’ve hinted at this somewhere? The guy’s all about the romance of the relationship, not the deed itself. His intensity about love probably scares off anyone looking for casual fun. Add to that his chronic nosebleeds at even the hint of affection or attraction—it’s safe to say it takes someone very special to get over him losing his entire supply of blood through his nose to get to that level.

But let’s talk about Sanji as a lover. The man is a giver, full stop. His happiness comes from making you happy, no matter the lengths he has to go to. Sanji’s the kind of guy who could literally lose himself in your pleasure—like, "Oh, you’re enjoying this? Great, I’m done!" He’s probably the type to cum in his pants while he’s focusing on you.

In the early stages of your relationship, Sanji would be laser-focused on perfecting his technique. Picture him pouring over every guide, every book, every questionable magazine he can find to up his game. And don’t think he’d stop there—oh no, this man would shamelessly eavesdrop on his fellow crew members for tips. And yes, I absolutely believe he’d practice on a half-eaten peach in the privacy of his room. (RIP peaches, forever ruined for him he can't go near them without his pants tightening .)

Being the hopeless romantic he is, Sanji’s all about slow burns. He’d wait until marriage, all while showering you with kisses and cuddles—he thrives on emotional and physical connection. That said, if you weren’t a virgin, he’d be down for a little extra physical affection before marriage and the big event (cue eyebrow waggle). He wouldn’t mind your past; he’d just be thrilled to share this new chapter with you. And hey, if you’ve got pointers? Even better. Sanji’s a fast learner with a willingness to please.

Now, if you were a virgin, Sanji would handle it with the utmost care. This man would be terrified of messing it up and you never want him to touch you again (I feel like this is the biggest fear for him getting physical with you, that and hurting your even the slightest bit). Hence lots of prep, oils, and constant check-ins to make sure everything feels just right. He’d follow your instructions to the letter, treating the whole experience like a sacred ritual.

Now for the spicy part: fetishes.

I’m torn here. On one hand, I could see Sanji keeping things vanilla—classic positions, whatever works best for you, with a side of soul-stirring romance. But let’s not forget, this man is also prone to dramatic flair. I wouldn’t be shocked if he pulled out some next-level One Piece tantric lovemaking just to keep things interesting.

On the kinkier side, I think a breeding kink might be on the table. Sanji dreams of a big, loud, loving family, and the "practice makes perfect" mindset tracks perfectly with his character. Beyond that, he’d be open to experimenting—but with clear boundaries. Anything involving harm or discomfort? Absolutely off-limits. Sanji wants you happy and safe, always. Nothing you do or say will persuade him. Side note thought - he would be very down to mark you up with hickeys, something that doesn't hurt you but tells everyone your his really hits his possessive needs.

That said… I do get strong "step on me, mommy" vibes from him. Just putting it out there. Take that as you will.

At the end of the day, Sanji is all about love, care, and devotion. Whether he’s cooking for you, cuddling with you, or, ahem, other things *wink wink*, he’s 100% in. He lives to see you happy, and your joy and pleasure is the greatest reward for this passionate, hopeless romantic man.

[simpee9000]

Too Easily - K. Bakugo - 2 -

Based off this Blurb and here's Part One

It was too easy, every part of it. How you met him, how you interacted with him, how quickly he got used to you. Every part of it was too easy, too good to be true. But he asked you anyway, he wanted you anyway. You figured it was just another thing in life that came easily. He showed you another way of living, the thrill of romance. The increased heartbeat that came when next to a crush. The a flutter in your stomach when he called your name. The buzz of warmth that covered your entire being after just one kiss. CW: swearing and i think that's it? Word Count: 4k

---

"You know, bringing me dinner each night proves nothing," you murmured, only flashing your eyes away from the mountain of paperwork you had for a moment to eye him.

Bakugo brushed you off with a grunt, setting down a portion of food in front of you before moving to grab an extra chair to sit adjacent to you. You watched his forearm flex when he whipped the chair around so he could sit on it backwards.

You pushed away the stack of paperwork to give him your attention, you wanted to make this difficult for him, not impossible. "So what have you brought me tonight?" you picked up your utensils and peered over the bowl that he placed in front of you.

"Spicy curry, its my favorite," he shuffled his seat closer so he could reach to take the cover off your meal and his.

"Oh- how spicy?" you gave him an unsure look.

"Mine's spicy as fuck, yours?" he shrugged, "I made mild but you can add more if you want."

You nodded, silently acknowledging the fact that he got your serving entirely separate. The taste of the first bite had you humming, "Where did you get this? Is this from that new restaurant down the street? Kirishima said it's amazing."

He scrunched his face, "Ha? I made this. No restaurant can cook like I can."

"You cook?" you had to reevaluate your entire opinion now.

"I've been cooking each meal," he stared at you blankly.

Each meal was insane. He brought you a new dish every night for the past three weeks. You thought he was just spending a shit ton of money, but no, he was putting thought into each dish. He already went out of the way to meet you towards the end of your shift at work to feed you, but he cooked it all? "You're an amazing cook," you decided to say, humming with another bite of the food.

" 'course I am," he grumbled, but you saw his chest puff out in pride. He was easy to read with that, you could tell when his ego flared.

"Besides when you add too much spice," you mumbled.

"I like spicy food, deal with it," he huffed out, rolling his eyes when you added extra spicy to your dish, "I made it mild as hell for you."

"Thanks, wouldn't have a tongue if you had it your way," you joked, kicking at his shoe when he gave you a suggestive look.

You've been learning a lot about him recently. He made sure to learn your schedule so he could see you often. You were busy with university and then had to work at the company after class until 8pm, so he always came in around 7. It was sweet. He worked hard to make you aware of his feelings, but you were still iffy. Everything has been very public between the two of you, you'd know once it settled down.

But Bakugo still tried to whoo you regardless, it was interesting to see his public image verses how he treated you. Showed him in a new light. You know how similar he was to his dad, but the public and his classmate would say he is only like his mom. He was sharing the small quirks about him, like tonight with his favorite food and that he cooked. It was nice, you wanted to know more, you couldn''t help analyzing everything.

It's why you noticed him flipping his phone over when a call rang through. Eyeing his reaction, how he just moved on from it, only noticing your look when he finally looked away from his food. "What?"

"Who called?" you tried to ask as if you didn't care, scrapping the last of your food out of the bowl.

"A dumbass spark plug," he answered, pushing his bowl slightly away from him and crossing his arms onto the back of the chair in front of him. "Jealous?"

"No, just concerning that a pro hero is ditching calls," you shrugged off.

"He just wants me to go to this stupid hang out," he defends.

"You should go then," you push.

"We could go somewhere, you were talking about grabbing a new book from that shop off the near my patrol route, right?"

You looked at him weirdly, you mentioned that over a month ago. Blabbing on about a sale you wanted to catch they had each year, he seemed like he ignored it but apparently not.

"I meant for you to go with your friends- you hardly see them," you leaned back into your chair to relax and get your face further from the annoying paperwork on your desk.

"The sale is ending ain't it? I know your dumbass didn't grab it yet either," he pushed himself up to stand, grabbing his coat and nodding his head to the door, "Let's go."

You'd want to say you went out of him pushing you to go, but you were mesmerized at how much he picked up from what you said. So you scrambled to follow after him, helping pick up everything before walking down to his car to go to the bookstore. They were just about to close before you came in a bought the book you so heavily praised, well Bakugo bought it. He refused to let you.

"Happy?" he stuffed his hands in his pocket as he looked at you, walking back towards his car.

"You really didn't have to buy it, you already drove and everything," you huffed.

"I buy stuff to help my credit score, nothin' insane," he grumbled after you mentioned it for the millionth time.

"Sure," you laughed, "Then help me boost my credit score and let me buy you a coffee or something soon."

"Asking me out, books?" he smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes, "If that's what you want to call it sure."

His steps faltered for a moment as he fumbled for his car keys to unlock the door for you, opening it before you as well. "That offer work for tonight?"

"Isn't your bedtime at 8:30? It's already 9, old man," you joked, sitting back down in his car.

He response with a fake laugh and shut your door gently before getting into his. About to respond before his phone rang through, and he answered it, "What?" he barked out.

"Sorry- I know you had your phone off but Denki is-" you heard a loud cry cut Kirishima's voice off, "He's plastered. Sero left with someone and Mina is trying to leave with me."

"I don't know how that means an emergency," Bakugo grumbles, "I'm busy."

Kirishima sighed, "Dude please, Mina is actually trying to leave with me, you know how long I've been waiting for this."

Bakugo huffed, his shoulders slumping as he gave in, "What do you want me to do?"

"Thank god, just come to the bar and take Denki home, please, I owe you so much," Kirishima rushed in relief.

"Yeah," Bakugo ended the call without much less, cutting out the end of Kirishima's millionth thank you. "You want me to drop you off before?"

You shook your head, "Nah, the bar is close right? Don't need to waste time to do that."

He side-eyed you, "Yeah."

It was easy to tell he was annoyed. With how he hardly said a word during the drive, and just walked with you inside the bar. Making a beeline to the obnoxious group of his friends. You see why Kirishima called for help. Mina was obviously flirting with him but also noticeably annoyed at Kaminari, who was drunk as hell.

"Thank you so muc-" Kirishima started his rant again before he locked eyes with you, "I didn't know you guys were hanging out-" he looked back at Bakugo, "I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," Bakugo cut him off.

Kaminari wailed drunkenly, "Even Bakugo has his girlfriend here, what the fuck."

"What is dumbass on about?" Bakugo ignored his friend directly, even though he was face down in a drink.

"His recent girlfriend left him, again," Mina explained, "She said it was for real this time and blocked him."

Bakugo just rolled his eyes, "Just help me get this dumbass in my car."

"Oh nah, I don't wanna third wheel again," Kaminari kicked away, flopping in the booth to avoid Kirishima grabbing him.

He looked miserable, hair a mess, face just tired, and his energy was entirely different to how he always acted. You also took him as a playboy, but if this is how he acted with a breakup? You doubted it.

"Stop fucking flailing your arms-"

"I'm not getting in a car with you and your girlfriend," he kicked Bakugo's hand away, like a child, "Leave me to drown in my sorrows."

Bakugo grumbled, "She's not my fuking girlfriend, it's a PR relationship, now shut the fuck up and get to my car," he hissed.

You crossed your arms uncomfortably, his friends just looked at you unsurprised. Which is why you were rather glad that Kaminari stopped acting like a child to get into the car.

Mina and Kirishima gave you a polite hug after they finished shoving Kaminari in Bakugo's car, leaving with their hands interlocked.

The radio was constantly being turned up to ignore Kaminari's questions and random rants before he called out to you. You glared at Bakugo to make sure he didn't turn it back up, you felt bad for the guy.

He seemed happy you were giving him attention, "So it's all for PR, so why hang out with each other?"

"Just because it's for PR doesn't mean that's all I want, idiot," Bakugo spoke with a smaller bite than before, leaving Denki to just sit and think.

"Then why not actually date?" Kaminari asked you, to which you just shrugged.

"I thought we were, but then he sprung it on me that we weren't, so here we are," you had your head turned to watch him, and gave a bittersweet smile.

"So what was so great about Kacchan that made you say yes to him?" Kaminari lolled his head back as he looked at you.

You took in his question, he was drunk as hell but you knew how he felt, "He was the first guy that asked me out and looked like he meant it- but I have bad judgement so I'm not the best person to ask."

Bakugo was previously annoyed, but now he just looked sad after what you said, guilty.

"I mean it everytime I ask a girl out, should I care more? That's what he does," Kaminari groaned as he pulled himself up to lean on your car seat. "Or is it like a look thing- am I ugly?"

"You're not ugly," you laughed lightly, "You just need to show a lot more effort maybe, I don't know much but I can tell it seems like you are too scattered to care about a single person. So maybe focus up, on one girl, or better yet just focus on yourself. Doing that is often more attractive than chasing."

"Your saying, I just wait for them to come to me?"

"I'm saying to better yourself in the meantime, but sure," you shrugged, turning to face the road again.

You waited in the car as Bakugo brought Kaminari to his apartment, you sat there a full thirty minutes before Bakugo was back. Saying he had to drop you off at your car because he had to stay with Kaminari. Saying he kept trying to short circuit himself.

Bakugo's worry was sweet to see, because even though he acted annoyed, he was concerned.

It boosted your view on him by a lot, seeing that he cared so much for others was nice.

---

Work was no different than any other day. Heros sometimes coming in to get something worked out and then leaving. Business as usually. So you didn't bat an eye when Inasa Yoarashi came straight to your desk.

"Hello," you looked up from your papers, he often chatted with you whenever he had to stop by. He was loudspoken and super upbeat, you'd be intimidated otherwise. He was tall as hell.

"Hello," he nodded at you, loud but polite.

"What's brought you here?" you smiled before looking down to shift some papers.

"I was wondering your schedule. What time are you off work, if you don't mind me asking," he ask loudly, when you glanced up at him, he looked nervous. A slight flush to his face and a straight posture.

You looked at your calendar, "I'll be off at 8, why?"

"I was wanting to court you."

The terminology made your eyes bug out of your head, "What now?"

"Would you like to go on a date?"

Your mouth felt dry with how straight forward this conversation was. "I thought you- Haven't you seen about Bakugo and me?" you stuttered with how this could happen. You and Bakugo were everywhere on social media.

He gave you an odd look, a slight tilt to his head, "Why would I care that you had a PR relationship? That's none of my business. Though, now that it's over, I'd love to pursue a real relationship with you."

You just blinked at him, how in the world did he know. "I'll have to think on it-"

Before anymore words could leave your mouth, you saw your dad stomping into the room. The entire office went silent as your father stared at you. His presence alone was intimidating, but when he was mad it was worse. He just crossed his arms and stared at you, waiting. It was obvious he'd blow up if there wasn't a hero in the room, couldn't ruin his image.

"Sorry- We'll have to talk later," you brushed your slacks off as you stood, straightening the fabric.

"I'll stop by tomorrow," he nodded, fully of confidence as he left.

Leaving you to follow your father to his office.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, he turned around to glare at you.

"Can you tell me why your name is plastered all over social media? Over a PR relationship no one fucking asked for?" he snapped, "Your name, is our name. Do you even fucking think?"

"I didn't know he was going to go public about it- he hasn't messaged me at all-"

"I don't want to hear you ramble with excuses. Fix it," he hisssed, leaving with the unspoken threat.

"How-"

"Fix it," he cut you off, "I don't care how, but fix it."

You nodded before leaving. You didn't want to lose your job, and he'd cut you off fully if you didn't fix anything. He'd disown you publicly if this continued. He was all about his image, it was all you could think about as you walked back to your desk. The image of this family had to stick professional, so a dating scandal was pathetic to paste next to the perfect image.

Bakugo still hasn't messaged you, no warning, nothing. Just a public video of him being interviewed plastered all over socials.

"How's your girlfriend?"

He already looked annoyed but he just snapped, "She's not my fucking girlfriend, it's for PR and it's idiotic. Ruined so much and wasted my fucking time, I'm sick of it."

The clip ended there, but enough was said.

If that's how he felt, there was no need for him to message you again. It was clear he finally gave up trying to prove it wasn't for PR. Clearly it all was.

You held your face in your hands, the day couldn't get worse. Everything was piling.

There was no fixing this, which is the worst of it all. All you could do was move past it.

Part of you wished for Bakugo to show up for dinner as he always did, but he never did.

So you packed up and left, only to face countless interviewers.

"Why fake date?"

"Where you trying to climb the ranks in the office?"

"Was it to help his image or his?"

"Why you?"

You asked yourself the last one often, because truly, why did he have to come up and chose you?

While biting your tongue, you straighten your posture, "The relationship was for the public to calm down the dating rumors that surround Dynamight-"

Maybe you added too much, because even with media training, this is unpredictable.

"Is he dating someone else?

"What's the reason to hide?"

You winced at that countless questions being thrown at you. "He is still a true friend- no more questions please-" You were practically swarmed with cameras, looking into the office behind you with a panic, only being able to get away because several cop cars were racing down the street.

Sirens calling everyone's attention so you could escape, you could never be more thankful.

---

You didn't even make it out of the office until it was officially locked up by the security, walking with them to catch a breath.

The next day was filed with hero incidents and a mass flood caused by a villian taking up all posts on social media. Everyone was focused on that, even your father.

Everything was more normal than you would of liked. Incidents were common, so you didn't bat an eye.

The usual part of the day that you disliked was Inasa Yoarashi walking straight up to your desk at the time Bakugo normally would.

"About what I proposed yesterday?" he started, shoulders back in confidence, "Would you take me up on that offer to go on a date?"

Unfortunately you missed how Bakugo was the one that tried to get you to go on date. Thinking about how Bakugo always had his shoulders back in confidence. But it wasn't the same. Bakugo did it all with an attitude that could back it, not like Inasa would with being uptight.

He was handsome, but he didn't have that sharp look to his features. He was broad but didn't have that leaner build that Bakugo had. He was a complete different hero.

So you spoke your answer, "I'd like-"

"The fuck," you heard Bakugo's voice in shock ring from behind Inasa, who turned to look as well.

Bakugo had stealth training, but normally he had too loud of steps in the office. He was broad and tall but not as much as Inasa. That's all you could explain to yourself on how he was there.

He had no reason to be there.

He ended it publically.

Your mind blurred they're aggressive introductions.

"Did ya' tell him about us?" Bakugo glared at you.

"There's an us?" you asked back. Your mind was not catching up to what was happening.

Bakugo was here asking about you after saying you were a waste of time. Right when a perfectly normal guy was asking you out. With your brain telling you to chose the normal and easy option, while your heart was telling you to chose the complicated blonde.

"There isn't?" Bakugo hissed.

"I know about the PR-" Inasa tried to voice.

"I'm not fuckin' talking to you, or that," Bakugo pointed an aggressive finger at Inasa then turned to you again, "There isn't an us?"

"Is there?" you went back and forth, "You ended it publicly."

"Yeah, publicly," he glared at you, practically hissing out the words, "It's what you wanted."

"No it's not- you didn't even text me or show up yesterday to warn me," your eyes flashed to Inasa apologetically.

Bakugo blinked at you, "I don't talk to you for one day and you jump onto the next guy?" he pointed in Inasa's direction without looking, just glaring at you.

"You broke it off-" you defended, looking to Inasa, "I'm sorry you had to see this, Bakugo, could you give us a second?"

"What?" he looked apauled.

You got up and gestured for Inasa to follow you near the elevator, leaving Bakugo at your desk.

"Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I think it's best if we don't. I'm a public mess right now-" you winced throughout every part of rejecting Inasa, but you hardly knew him and what you did know, you only compared to Bakugo.

He nodded, "Understood, have a good day."

His calm rejection had you following his figure with your eyes until the elevator closed your view. Only then did you shake your head and walk to Bakugo.

"You made me wait while you agreed to a date with that dude?" Bakugo just had a blank look on his face.

Everyone was looking at you, so you pulled him into the closest empty conference room.

"You couldn't of warned me? You couldn't of texted? You couldn't of done anything differently? Said it less harsh? Think about my feelings?" you spat at him, running through of the questions you could think off.

"Can you slow the fuck down- why do you even care if your just gonna go date that tornado?"

"Can't you just tell me how you feel for once?" you crossed your arms.

"I feel," he mocked, "Like I don't want you to date that fuckass."

"Real mature Bakugo, go bad mouth me and avoid me just to prohibit me from moving on."

He ran his hand through his hair then down his face with a harsh sigh, "Really? I didn't warn you because my phone broke. That little press person caught me right after my phone died, then I lost it in the flood. I was annoyed and wanting to actually start something with you, so I tried to make it clear to them in a way you would understand."

"How would I understand what you said? All you did was call it idiotic."

"I also said it was wasting my time, our time. It ruined the start off anything we could of had."

"How was I supposed to get that? You set that up to fail," you threw your hands up in defeat.

He shrugged, "It was stupid, whatever, doesn't matter since you decided on the wind turbine."

"I told him no, I chose you, now you can swallow your feelings over that," you huffed, annoyed how he kept trailing back to that, "Why did you even think I didn't want a public relationship? The public part wasn't the issue."

Bakugo blinked at you, "It's all you fuckin talk about-"

"Yeah, because I didn't like how it started, but now we could never have a relationship that's known, it'd look weird and cause drama-"

"So we keep it to ourselves, we start as just us," he shrugs.

"That'll be so difficult, no too long looks, no touching, we wouldn't be able to get close to each other without rumors blowing up."

"That's where the tension is, Books. It'd be too easy if everyone just knew our business," he smirke, "Builds tension."

You rolled your eyes, "There's already enough tension."

"So you chose me? You actually want something?" the air of aggressiveness of the conversation fell away as he spoke now.

"I wanted something before you even started or ended it," you smiled, "You keep winning me over."

"I am a winner," he shrugged, his cocky energy back the second he actually could back it up. Stepping closer into your space after the distance was placed between you two.

You smiled, pushing your arm out to keep distance, looking out of the windows to the conference room and seeing the audience you had. "We agreed it'd be too easy if they knew."

He rolled his eyes but stepped back, "Everything comes too easily to me."

"Uh huh, sure," you joked, "So what's your plan?"

"Come over, I'll make ya favorite," his confidence made you smile and agree before leaving bashfully.

Seeing him next at his house. Sharing a real first date and a real kiss, planning the moves for the next.

---

I don't know how to feel about this but here you guys go! The much requested Part 2!! (I struggled heavily)

[artsninspo]

🎇 NANA'S KNOW BEST | NYE - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

𐙚 based on this prompt

summary: What happens when your crush that you've been in a silent stand off with turn's up to your NYE party at the behest of his meddling grandmother who just so happens to be bff's with yours? buckle up this ones messy and spicy

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

word-count: 4.4K

Swallowing a distasteful groan you force a compliant smile to carry on the ruse everyone else is so committed to participating in. Your grandmother's hand squeezes yours and you send the gesture right back against her bony fingers. A muffled scoff escapes the mischievous senior's mouth only for her to correct the gesture by pretending she's both sick and elderly.

“Mom, are you okay?” your father asks completely oblivious to what is transpiring under his nose.

“Fine sweetie” she smiles at her son before turning to you. “Nana knows best” she says letting you go. You send her a look that promises to get back and leave the family room for the kitchen. You want nothing to do with the man in front of you.

“Try these” Sammy your chef smiles handing you sparkling pastries.

“I’ve lost my appetite” you mutter

“Oh” she gapes, wiping her hands onto her apron. “You must be coming down with something” she says fluttering around the kitchen to get a finger of ginger and start peeling.

You sigh. “I’m fine Sammy”

“You not wanting something sweet is anything but” she says with a hand on her hip. Her gaze is accusatory and you sigh not wanting the audience of her hired help for this occasion. Sensing your hesitation, Sammy walks you through the chef's quarters and to one of the house's side entrances.

“Rio’s here” you mutter. The recognition in her eyes is evidence of the history that you and Rio share. 

“Well, you look great” Sammy says, looking you over with more critical eyes.

“I know I do” you snap, offended by the tone in her voice. The coddling, the sentimentality. That you were ever so weak in the knees for a man with so little regard for me and you feelings. 

“I’m surprised he came,” she says.

“I’m not. Daddy has him under his thumb and there’s nothing he won’t do for a chance to prove his worth to the boss.” you swallow resentfully. Your fingers twitching for a release, stepping back Sammy finds the padlocked mailbox, unlocking it with a string of keys and passes you a joint.

“Thanks” you mutter taking a long drag.

Rio had been your first crush, the age gap between you was significant enough in those days of childhood that the distance existed. You looked up to him. Every time you went back to the neighbourhood your father hailed from when he was there. Your father admired him too and your grandmother knew his. Nana knew early why you wanted to tag along to her book clubs and bible studies at Rio’s place but she never said anything to your parents. Rio had always handled you with care and the two old biddies watched wishing one day their friendship would be turned into a familial bond by their two grandchildren.

It happened at your highschool graduation party. You were on your way to make your entrance when the sound of sloppy kisses caught your attention. Living for a little gossip you slipped out of your slingback heels to tiptoe quietly across the marble floors. Just as a kiss broke between Rio and your hoe ass auntie Clementine. It was the next scene that made you sick enough to spew all over your newly acquired white dress. Clem sunk down to her knees taking his heavy manhood into her hands and kissing the tip of him while looking up at him.

Running down the halls with your shoes in hand your brunch came up violently. Clem was privy to your crush on Rio and of all the days she had chosen one significant to you to twist the knife of betrayal. Hot tears streamed as your heart turned to stone. Your crush was the worst kept family secret. How could he? After refusing to join the party your mother was forced to make the cancellation announcement. That day changed family dynamics forever. Gone were the days where you were content enough playing princess, everyone’s favourite girl. Nice girls finished last and there was no room for that anymore.

Your father insisted on another graduation party and there your revenge was served cold. Instead of rushing to greet Rio you maintained distance, sending warm smiles and pleasantries to everyone but him. Spite was a new emotion but you had always been a fast learner. His gifts that day, a princess cut diamond tennis bracelet and necklace set were proof he’d been listening to your advice. It was why you stayed away from Princess cut diamonds to this very day. A dry thanks and a cavalier comment about the subpar count of carats was the first time Rio hadn't received a gushing compliment in your presence. He watches as you casually place the gift aside instead of rushing to have him put it on you. He’d expected to place the accents on your wrist and around your neck but the request never came as you continued opening presents without acknowledging him.

The execution of your spiteful revenge plot had been surgical. Daddy had a new head of security and everytime you returned home from school you showed Rio he’d been replaced until you managed to push him out altogether. Holding back invitations from social gatherings your mother was putting on and skipping out on the ones he was invited to. Clem had flown too close to the sun in search of the kind of man your mother acquired in your father and had her wings burned. Her Karma was her own, a sleazeball with a wandering eye. She’d come to your mom crying on more than one occasion - the stress was sucking her beauty out of her. 

The memories overwhelm you and you cough having taken too long a drag. Sammy hits your back, plucking the nearly finished joint from your hands. There were a few people you had fessed up to. Sammy and Nana among them. Sammy had your back not liking Clementine's antics but Nana didn't share her point of view. Nana’s advice was simple. It was her view that you should never be ashamed of things happening in the corridors and peripheries. Adults have sex and often that’s all it is. She was also of the opinion that the last thing any smart woman wanted was a man that had never sown wild oats. It was better they get it out of their system before settling down than while in a serious committed relationship. The take felt treasonous but the older you got the more true it felt. Since then Rio had climbed the ranks quite considerably which was no doubt why he was in attendance today. It wasn't a dinner among friends and family for the new year. It was a dinner among equals. It was why your father had spared no expense in the beauty prep and maintenance of his girls. Part of being respectable was the well being of your family. It was why Rio had brought his grandmother. Rio’s reputation was no longer the only one that preceded him. Your profile had grown too.

To the world you were a bitch and a spoiled brat, who’s social calendar was stacked. You were hard to get to know and even harder to keep. Easily bored and sometimes temperamental; still people wanted to make your acquaintance. To those who knew you best, the hard shell you put on was just that- an act. Looking back at Sammy you take a breath of the fresh air. Looking down at your croc leather boots you try to muster the ferocity of the large reptile as you head back in.

“Thanks for the smoke” you smile and Sammy nods.

“Anytime babygirl, you tell me what plate I need to sprinkle a little something into if anyone plays with you alright?” Sammy jokes.

“Always be nice to the chef” you wink, heading back inside and through the kitchen and back to mix and mingle. You greet everyone you know with the same pleasant but detached air. You take none of their pleasantries or compliments to heart. You allow hands from some of your father’s younger and more legitimate associates to linger as a test of their intentions and integrity. You smile at their jokes and play your role well. You feel Rio’s eyes on you as you move through the crowd. It’s been at least five years since you’ve seen him in the flesh. You can't allow your eyes to linger - even now. One of two things happen; one you get a vision of Clem taking his manhood or a vision of the good times. The oscillation between both states is unpleasant. 

“Y/n” his voice says, cutting through the crowd with the same ability to give you goosebumps. You turn to face him, taking in his dark features with the same detached smile he knows is a construct after eighteen years of impossibly genuine ones. His features tighten with contempt.

“Christopher” you smile going in for a hug. When you pull away enveloped in a mix of his cologne and yours his expression reeks of disapproval.

“Rio” he corrects using the nickname you used in childhood. The one he was endearingly called by all who knew him.

“You haven't grown out of that yet?” you are unable to be nice. His glare is pointed. “So serious now” you comment looking into your champagne flute amused with his current state towards you.

“I’m surprised you remember me at all, I haven't heard from you in years” he comments.

“Why would you, we don't have any business” you shrug turning to him. Your expression is earnestly puzzled. His jaw clenches and then clicks.

“Y/N” a voice calls and you turn in the direction of the voice to find your sister in law. A hand catches your waist before you can walk off and Rio’s strict and scolding expression gives you a punishing glare. Have you lost your mind? Is the question in his expression. He’d never been one from disrespect.

“What?” you ask looking up at him. 

He swallows, smoothing out his expression to maintain appearances as his hands drop, taking yours. He walks with long strides that force you to move your feet quickly to keep pace. You raise a finger to your sister-in-law signalling you need a moment as Rio takes you into the study.

“Why are you being a bitch to me?” he snaps once the door is closed. You go to respond but his hand comes up holding his index finger in a silent warning. “Don’t bullshit me” he says after more silence. Eighteen year old you would be so proud to have Rio in a room with you behind closed doors with his undivided attention. You find yourself smirking at the thought before your eyes find his softening. 

“Why are you pretending like you care how I carry myself or what I do?” you ask. He steps back insulted by the question.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You forget how you grew up? How many times you'd call me a week, a day? Rio, can you pick me up candy, Rio, can you take me to see my friends?” he says.

“Worked out well, didn't it?Look at the rooms you're in now, you are well off - take care of granny and you're someone.” you say casually and he acts like it stings.

“You think I showed up for you to get in with your father?” he laughs but he’s far from amused with his manhood and character in question.

“Rio, I’m not so naive that I think anyone who isn't my blood in this house is genuine” you comment with bored exasperation. 

“And what have I done after knowing you your entire life to lead you to believe I don’t care?” he asks, affronted. His nerve sparks rage. Your eyes hold him for a moment in quiet contemplation before you take a breath walking back into the study and letting your hands run along the wood face of your fathers desk. 

“You stopped coming around once you started doing the accounting” you recount turning to face him.

“I didn't have time to be around all the time” he snaps. 

“Well you didn't say anything” you shrug.

“My bad” Rio says closing the distance between the two of you when you hold a hand out signalling he stops, Rio obliges standing in place.

“Did you know I had a crush on you?” you ask and he looks at you like it's a brave question. Like it's the last thing he expected to come out of your mouth.

“Everyone knew,” he says, twisting the knife he’d put there all those years ago. 

“And you were fucking my aunt!” You snap unable to recall the anger from your voice. Shock takes his expression first, then understanding before he returns to his default expression. The smug asshole smiles a bit before shaking his head like your feelings are a big joke to him. 

“Fuck you Christopher” you snap pushing past him but he pulls you back to him in a rough motion. All the humour in his eyes has evaporated into anger.

“So you’ve been treating me like this in public on purpose?” Rio clarifies testing your bravery.

“You’re not special enough for special treatment” you shrug dismissively and he smiles shaking his head before he chuckles looking over at you again. 

“What’s funny?” You ask slightly unnerved by the change in his energy. 

“Here I am treating you like a princess when you’re jealous of your aunt who got treated like a whore” he comments. He steps back, locking the door. Your heart races at the gesture. “All the guys out there are sharks, they’re all touching you because your dad’s over and your brother doesn’t have any dog in him. He’s pussy whipped. The only reason your pops isn’t free lunch is because of me. I don’t need him. I have love for him because he’s got a good heart and looked out for me when I was growing up but he’s lost it. Only reason he’s still on his pedestal is because I know how much of a daddy’s girl you are”  Rio says something in the pit of your stomach makes it feel true. You’d noticed your father had been losing his edge for some years now. His kids were grown and he had more than enough to maintain.

“I don’t need your protection” pride forces out and you try to get out of the room. But Rio doesn’t move aside, a wicked grin takes set in his expression. One you remember him doling out to enemies and not friends.

“This is what I get for giving you an inch” he says to himself. 

You take a step back slightly unnerved “This is my dad’s office” you say to remind him. His intensity forces you to take another step back.

“Christ-Rio” you correct, continuing your retreat.

“You couldn’t handle me at eighteen, not at twenty one and I don’t even have faith in you now” he says, sparking your defiance. Your retreat falters as he takes a step forward. 

“I’m not the one begging for answers, your time or company. ” your tone is sharp. 

“Cause I’m grown and not afraid to show that I care about your immature ass even when you act like a brat. It’s called "unconditional love” . His tone is as steady as his expression, devoid of sentimentality.

“I love you so much I'm going to go suck one of your family members off” you snap and his eyes light. His disdain for the idea is evident. 

“Don’t talk like that” he warns.

“Mhm, that's what I'll do. Then I’ll show up at your next party with some dumb fucking gift and a smile acting like I mean something. You PIG” you snap shoving him back and getting out of the office and back to the party.

Rio takes a moment to catch his breath. Looking down he swallows trying to quell his raging libido before straightening his shirt and stepping out of the study. He didn't know who to be more upset at; himself, you or his granny. He’d only shown up because Granny had said you wanted him there. After years of being ignored he was ready to turn a new page. Both of you sit through dinner without adding a word to the light and jovial conversation. The attention you were getting from men is non-existent now but you don't mind.

“What’s going on between you and my future grandson-in-law?” Nana teases, earning a sharp glare.

“Ha, ha” you comment without humour and she smiles amused. 

“Come on Princess, when have you known Rio to put up with what you're putting him through?” she asks.

“Nana, I know you're old but in this generation we don't take shit from shitty men” you explain.

“He’s not shitty. Maria told him you wanted him to come and he came with no questions asked.” Granny says making you frown.

You roll your eyes. “Why are y’all lying?”

“I’m not getting any younger and I want my baby to have babies with my other baby” she says and you scoff.

“Remember when I promised you I'd never put you in a nursing home?” you ask.

“I do” she nods.

“We’ll I’m going to start looking tomorrow” you threaten making you old girl chuckle. When the party dies down after the countdown you go to call a car and wait in the driveway. It's possibly the worst start to the year ever. Rio comes out and gives you an annoyed look. 

“I’ll take you home” he mutters, you take him up on his offer to limit your wait. You put your address in his car's GPS and he starts on the drive. His eyes glance to yours every few minutes as you ignore him. 

“Pretending not to enjoy my company is hard work isn't it?” he says and you cut on the radio to drown him out. You have too many fond memories riding shotgun with him. He smiles at the gesture, unable to be fully upset at your bratty tendencies; it was partially an attitude of his own creation.

“Does daddy have any enemies?” you ask.

“No, not enemies - just scavengers but nothing to worry about if you have good friends” Rio mutters drawing your gaze. You nod as he takes the exit and starts up the hill to your neighbourhood. Security lets him through the gate once you've scanned your pass and Rio assesses the residential area. The G-wagon pulls into your driveway.

“Thanks for the ride” you say jumping out instead of waiting for him to get the door. He shuts off the car.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Making sure you get in” he states.

“You can do that from your car” you tell him but he's stubborn following you in.

“I’m in” you state the obvious.

“Where’s the washroom?” he asks and you sigh pointing to the bathroom.

“Leave when you're done the front door locks automatically” you tell him heading to your bedroom. You check your phone before tidying up your bedroom before taking off your boots then dress. You place the garment on a hanger and your boots in the closet where they belong. You manage to get a babytee over your bra before emerging from your closet still in your thong and nylons. The image of Rio is startling. 

“What's wrong?” you frown as his eyes take your body in. It's the way you’ve always wanted him to look at you. 

“Are you done making a fool of me?” he rasps low. All libido. 

“No” you mutter and his large hand finds the small of your waist pulling you into him. His smile is soft and lazy like he has all the time in the world. The same hand trails down the side of your hips running along the nylon mesh and then to your center. Looking at Rio in his eyes you keep still determined not to break first. He pulls the fabric away from your skin before ripping a gaping hole in the mesh. His eyes don’t leave yours as he sinks down. You don't make the mistake of taking him on his knees as an act of submission. Your body is thrumming for him before he pushes your panties to the side putting his lips to your flesh. Swallowing, your hand goes to his shoulder for support only for him to gently place your leg over it, bettering his access to your center. The sensation makes you ooze for him. Heady sights and moans emerge in no time as he eats you while still partially dressed. His more reserved pace turns feverish as your moans do. First a finger and then two his fingers find a rhythm inside of you aiding to finish what his mouth started.  Both guide you to your climax. Before you find your release he stops removing your leg ever so gently and standing with steely resolve. Your lust filled eyes lose the haze of pleasure slowly before he comes into focus. Amusement plays at his lips.

“If you walk-”

Your words are cut short by a kiss. The illicit taste of your arousal mixed with Rio’s passion is overwhelming. So is his skill, it’s like he knows every erogenous zone. Everything is torturously tantric. If you didn't know what he did you’d think his expertise was sex. He scrambles your brain with his dominance. In the bedroom there's no place for insolence. His foreplay is rough and rugged as he kisses and touches you everywhere like he wants to know all your spots to punish you for ever thinking you could leave him, get rid of him or be done with him. He doesn't undress you by pushing your shirt up instead of taking it off as he sucks your breasts.

“Rio” your first please come out hoarse as your legs open instinctively needing the release from him. 

“What?” he asks.

“I need you” you whisper nearly making him come before he could even be inside you. 

There were a hundred faceless women who’d taken loads meant for your body alone. Who he’d superimposed your face and body on, using in his mind. He’d tried to do the right thing staying away, ignoring your crush not feeding into it. He didn't want to be a fleeting moment he wanted forever. Somehow your lusty moans and shallow breath were even better than he imagined. You tasted better too, felt better, sounded better. 

“You're begging already” he rasped but the defiance you felt had long passed when he was french kissing your core.

“Fuck me” you sit up whispering the words against his lips. He kisses you first, slipping his tongue between your lips as he lays you back down as he slides in. Your pleasure filled moan is music to his ears as his manhood finds its home nestled within you. Instinct takes time to kick in as he fights against coming in mere seconds. 

“You feel so good baby” he rasps. “You're so perfect” he adds singing your praises.

The pressure is intense, maybe he was right, he is a lot of man to handle but the thrill and arousal makes it comfortable before his thrusts become pure pleasure. Your bodies learn quickly how to please each other. He fucks you into the matress after your first climax treating you like a whore. It feels better than it should. Better than all the fake intense passion you’ve had with lovers who didn't mean half as much as him over the years. 

The way he felt, made you feel was overwhelming. Position after position with the purpose of pleasure. His heavy heated gaze, his grip around your hips, wrists and neck. His passion and rawness. The kind of sexual encounter everyone should have at least once in their lives. When he slipped out finally you felt lost as you both lay there drawing in short rugged breaths. Your heart swells in post coital bliss. After relieving yourself you look at your reflection washing up. New year new me think to yourself. Rio enters, interrupting your thoughts and you exit the restroom silently. You climb out of the distressed nylons and go into your drawers for a nightgown. Your thoughts run a million miles a minute. The pendulum swings and you can't quite decide if going to bed with him was the right call or not. Your body is still humming with praise for him while your mind is more conflicted.

“Come to bed” Rio says in a demanding tone like the one he uses in bed. You pause turning to him with folded arms as he waits beneath the covers. “I won't hurt you, I know you can hold a grudge. It’s not in my best interest to piss you off” he comments and you pad back over the bed sitting beside him. Sleep takes the both of you quickly. Hours later the sun beams in and his arm is wrapped protectively around your body. 

With a smile you rest your head on his chest as you check your New Years texts. Smiling you see one from your grandmother and laugh beside the man that was the subject of too many new years wishes. Nana really does know best.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you lift your head just enough to glance at the screen—Nana.

Rio wakes sleepily before looking at the phone chuckles. “She’s got timing, don’t she?”

“She’s got more than that,” you mutter, hitting the green button. “What, Nana?”

Her voice is sly, coated in the mischief only years of experience could refine. “Just checking if you got home safe, sweetheart.”

“I did,” you say, your tone exasperated but warm. 

“Now!” she says in a hasty tone. You sit up in utter confusion, mouth falling open when Rio’s phone begins to ring. Granny flashes across the screen. You freeze caught dead by your grandmothers. A flurry of laughter sounds from both of your grandmothers on the other line. 

“I need great grands by the end of the year” Nana shouts through celebratory laughs and cheer. Your eyes dart to Rio who’s wearing an equally amused expression. 

“Should've never got them smartphones” he mutters blushing slightly and you shake your head.

“Oh hush, Nana’s know best” yours says.

“Hang up, so they can get re-started” Rio’s granny says and you hang up looking at your phone in shock. Caught by a bunch of meddling tech-savvy seniors. 

“You heard them, let's get re-started, mama” Rio winks.

: ̗̀➛ Loved the story? ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog—it all helps me so much! 💌

authour's note: this one's longer than normal, and there were lots of hellish moments. lmk what your favourite part was below. Also did you see the twist at the end with the grandma's set up? 😂 😆

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tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

[puffcap-factory]

Shared Dreams, Blossoming Hearts (Wriothesley x reader)

Wriothesley x fem!reader; fluff, pure fluff, heartwarming.

You were not satisfied with the results of the recent case you had been investigating, but Wriothesley seemed to have his own way to cheer you up. (Basically, it was how the two fall for each other)

Words: 3.3k

Notes:

Another Wriothesley fic because he hot >:-)

Okay, I did say I plan for a series but I don’t think I have the patience… Anyways, you can assume that this is the prequel to the other fic I made (the spicy one here) since I used the same setting for the reader. As always, enjoy!

((Update: a sequel of the story here))

•~•~•~•

You crouched, cradling one of the injured children in your arms, his small form trembling against you. 

How old was he? Five? Seven?

You couldn’t fathom how someone could use these innocent children as unknowing pawns in a smuggling ring for the geode, the case you had been investigating on these past few days.

Before you lay four treasure hoarders, all unconscious, subdued by the elemental power you channeled through your vision. A recon log mek was completely broken, no longer a threat.

Though you could intercept the last escaping group, a sense of incompetence washed over you as you realized you couldn't save the children unscathed. You had feared the worst.

"Y/n!" Wriothesley called out as he dashed towards you, Clorinde and her subordinates following closely behind.

He took a moment to glance at the unconscious bodies of the hoarders, understanding the fact that you had been the one defeating them. However, his attention quickly shifted back to you, observing for any injuries.

"Don't worry," he said in a low, soothing voice, his gaze filled with reassurance. "The healers are ready. You should head back first."

You let a moment sink in as you gently petted the boy's head, a soft, reassuring smile on your face. "Don't worry, these people will take care of you," you said soothingly, trying to comfort the hurting child.

Wriothesley watched you closely, a flicker of warmth crossing his features as he observed this caring side of you. It was a moment that revealed another layer of your character, one that he hadn't seen before.

You let the children got lifted by the healers as you stood up, ready to go back to the fortress. Wriothesley talked to Clorinde in the background before escorting you back.

•~•~•~•

As the direct delegate representing the Palais of Mermoria, you were tasked with reporting directly to Neuvillette for cases concerning the fortress. Over the past few months, you had worked closely with the Duke, primarily focusing on investigations related to the Fortress of Meropide.

Your professional relationship with him was marked by your efficiency, something that Wriothesley greatly appreciated. Calm and composed - as others in the fortress described.

However, the recent particular case you had been working on had proven to be quite tricky. It had been unfolding for several days, involving a group of smugglers with ties to the prison. Your investigation had led you going back and forth between the prison and the upper grounds, tirelessly pursuing leads. 

Sadly, your suspicions about the use of children as decoys had been true all along, adding a disturbing layer to the case. Upon learning that the other party had Wriothesley occupied, you rushed to the site. Time was ticking away as they planned to destroy the evidence for escape, which meant endangering the lives of the children involved.

Fortunately, the children were safe now, but the weight of the case bore heavily on your shoulders. One misstep and everything would have ended much, much worse… Anger and frustration simmered within you, directed towards the people responsible, the unfolding situation, and yourself, for not realizing the danger sooner or saving the children unscathed.

Children— they were innocent childrens. Why...

With a burst of elemental energy, you unleashed your vision against the dummy in the Pankration Ring. The crackling power of your magic lashed out, a physical manifestation of your frustration.

“Wow, that dummy won’t last long if you keep doing it like that.”

Turning your head, you saw Wriothesley casually walking towards you. You fell silent, observing him as he approached, his gaze softening as he scanned your features.

"Don't beat yourself up too much about it," he sighed, sensing your state of emotions. "In fact, I should be the one thanking you. If it weren't for you rescuing the children..." his voice trailed off, the unspoken gratitude hanging in the air.

You looked up at him, changing the topic as you did not want to imagine the worst. "How are the children doing?"

"They're doing well, thanks to Sigewinne's trustworthy potions," he chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. "We can check on them later."

A smile tugged at your lips. "Good… that's great. I would love to."

Wriothesley's gaze softened further, a silent acknowledgment of your care for the children.

"…Hey, if there's someone to blame, it would be me. If I wasn't involved in the other group, this may not have happened, true?" he asked flatly.

You paused, considering his words. He had a point, but you never held him responsible.

"Huh, but..." you started, but Wriothesley continued. 

"C'mon, if you want to release some stress, spar with me instead," he said, his lips tugging into a playful smile.

"A spar with the Duke himself? That's... quite the challenge," you chuckled, reluctance in your voice.

You were keenly aware of Wriothesley's physical prowess, not to mention his mastery over his vision. You would never match him in a fight.

"Nonsense," Wriothesley replied with a wave of his hand. "I saw what you did to those treasure hoarders. Use your vision, it's alright. As the ring's rules say, anything goes."

He smiled at you, a hint of challenge in his expression. The prospect of sparring against the Duke of Meropide himself, the champion of the ring, was both daunting and intriguing.

After a moment of consideration, you decided it was indeed a chance to both cool down your mood and train yourself. "Alright, let's do it," you said with a determined nod.

"That's the spirit," Wriothesley's smile grew wider as he made his way to the ring, and you followed him from behind.

Wriothesley tossed his jacket to the side, revealing the well-toned muscles beneath his shirt. The sight of his physique was impressive, a testament to his strength and skill. Even without gauntlets, the icy aura of his vision emanated from him, a reminder of his formidable power.

"No need to hold yourself back, give it your all," he added, his voice firm but encouraging.

With a nod, you mentally prepared yourself for the spar. Without your preferred weapon, you knew controlling your vision fully would be challenging. It felt harder to control without channeling it into a medium—a skill some could master, but it required extensive practice. From what you could tell, Wriothesley was adept at it.

Despite this, you refused to back down. A silent determination fueled your resolve as you admitted to yourself that you did actually want to see Wriothesley in combat—though not necessarily directly against you.

You focused on conjuring your vision into an energy ball, hurling it towards Wriothesley. With a swift sidestep, he dodged the attack and closed the distance between you. Knowing physical combat wasn't your forte, you attempted to keep your attacks ranged.

A slight smirk crossed Wriothesley's face as he started charging at you, clearly understanding your fighting style by now. Despite the challenges of channeling your vision power without a medium, you managed to throw some decent attacks, although most were either dodged or shielded by him.

Your thoughts on strategy were abruptly interrupted as Wriothesley closed the gap, launching into a series of quick and seasoned strikes. Blocking and parrying his blows as best you could, you could feel the icy blasts accompanying his movements. It was clear he wasn't showing his full skill, but even so, his speed and precision were impressive.

Realizing that solely shielding his attacks wouldn't take you anywhere, you focused your vision on creating a small dagger made from your vision elemental energy. With this newfound weapon, you lunged towards him, catching him off guard. Wriothesley dodged backwards, a bit taken aback by your sudden change in tactics.

"Smart move, as expected from you," he complimented. You remained focused and determined, taking measured breaths as the spar continued.

The exchange went rather fiercely, each of you landing blows and dodging strikes in a display of skill and determination. Despite the odds, you managed to hold your ground.

The spar reached its end when the small blade of elemental energy was poised against Wriothesley's neck. He froze, a small smile playing on his lips, admitting defeat in the face of your skill and determination.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, raising his hands in surrender. "You win this one."

You were clearly on edge, your breathing rough and labored in contrast to Wriothesley, who seemed rather unfazed by the recent spar. "You were clearly holding back against me, I can see that," you remarked, a playful glint in your eyes as you breathed in. Despite the intensity of the match and the fact that he was not giving his all, you still felt a sense of confidence building within you.

Wriothesley sighed defeatedly, acknowledging your observation. "C'mon, you think I could bring myself to beat a pretty lady like yourself?" he responded casually, a playful smile on his face. "Unless you really, really, reallywant me to," he added with a chuckle. 

His sweet talk caught you off guard for a moment, but you couldn't help but laugh at his offer. "No thanks," you replied playfully, shaking your head, knowing that you might end up weeks in recovery if he actually did.

Wriothesley grinned at your response. “But, seriously, you’re strong. And clever. With some training I bet you would match the strongest fighter in Fontaine.”

You honestly felt a bit flattered by his words, knowing he was regarding you too highly, but a small mischievous smile appeared on your lips.

"You... or Clorinde?" you teasingly asked him, knowing full well the rivalry between the Duke and the Captain of the Guard. 

Wriothesley chuckled, a hint of mock offense in his tone. "Hey now, I'd like to think I could give Clorinde a run for her money," he replied with a smirk. "But who knows? Maybe we'll have to settle this in a friendly match someday."

You laughed at the idea, genuinely intrigued with the prospect.

Wriothesley smiled contently at your laughter, his eyes warm as he asked after a while, "Feeling better?"

For a second, you forgot that you were here to take out your anger as he asked that. The spar had indeed shifted your mind and mood away from your thoughts. It was a fun experience indeed.

"Yeah, surprisingly, I am," you admitted with a smile, feeling a sense of lightness after the intense spar. "Thanks for the spar, Wriothesley. It was unexpected, but I needed that."

"Of course, anytime," Wriothesley replied, his tone light. "Let's go to the infirmary for a second to make sure everything's good, okay?"

You nodded in agreement as you followed by his side to head to the infirmary, reflecting on his actions towards you. After a moment of silence, you felt compelled to speak up.

"You're a great leader, Wriothesley, no wonder people chose you," you complimented him sincerely. How he had somehow sensed your troubles, and tended to it.

He looked at you for a moment, a bit caught off guard at the sudden serious comment. He thought for a second, before he said with a low tone, “…A lot of people had supported me along the way, I wouldn’t be at this place if not for them.”

You smiled at him, knowing full well that he was trying to be humble. It was true that he had the support of others to become the Duke of Meropide, but it was also true that his own actions had brought him to this position. His proactivity to help others, his ability to gather trust, and his innate instinct to protect those in need were all qualities that made him the natural and respected leader he was today. 

“To be honest, I did feel some disappointment towards myself… But luckily, I got you on my back.” he added, as he managed a smile at you. 

Right. The disappointment did not wear him down. Instead, Wriothesley maintained himself to be the pillar of strength, like any leader would. You truly admired him for this. And how he had tended to you, setting aside his own thoughts… you felt like you were drawn to him. Wanting to support him fully. 

You were about to respond to Wriothesley when you two arrived at the infirmary, greeted by Sigewinne. She seemed to know what you two had been up to, and proceeded to check on you first, then Wriothesley.

"You're all fine! But you might experience some soreness tomorrow, y/n," Sigewinne exclaimed cheerfully.

"That's... for tomorrow's problem," you replied with a sheepish smile. "By the way, when are we going to visit the children?" you turned your head towards Wriothesley, who was casually leaning back against the metal wall.

"Anytime. Now, tomorrow…. There's no urgent task for today, so, I can accompany you if you want to go after this," Wriothesley said, his tone warm and reassuring.

"Oh, the children! They would love a visit from you, y/n. They have been asking a lot about that yesterday," Sigewinne added, giggling softly.

You smiled warmly at the thought of visiting the children. Despite what had happened two days prior, knowing that they were safe and on the path to recovery now brought a sense of relief to your heart. “Then… can we go now?” you said, turning your head towards Wriothesley as you felt a renewed sense of energy filling in. Wriothesley couldn’t help but smile fondly at you. 

•~•~•~•

Wriothesley and you arrived at a place near the Quarter Lyonnais, where the children had been attended to. He observed you closely, walking a bit behind since he knew he wouldn't be recognized by the children, and he knew his appearance could be rather… intimidating. A gentle smile played on his lips as some of the children caught sight of you and ran over, their faces lighting up with joy.

You knelt down to their level, your heart swelling with warmth as you greeted each child with a smile and a gentle pat on the head. One of the older kids, a shy girl, timidly approached and handed you a piece of paper. "Um... this is for you, lady. Thank you… for saving us," her words stumbled as she offered you a drawing. You thanked her warmly, receiving the unexpected present when another boy, whom you had cradled in your arms during the rescue, approached you from the side. He stared at you innocently with his big eyes and asked, his voice soft, "Lady, who is that scary-looking man over there?"

You followed the boy's gaze and looked up to where Wriothesley stood, his imposing figure softened by the warm smile on his face as he noticed your gaze. You couldn't help but chuckle at the boy's innocent question.

“Oh, this man… despite his looks,” you smiled at the boy as you held him gently, pausing for a second, “is one of the kindest and most admirable people I’ve ever met.” You explained as you turned to face Wriothesley, a tender smile on your lips. “Try talking to him, and you’ll see what I mean.”

Wriothesley felt a flutter in his chest as you referred to him, witnessing your interactions with the children. It was as if a delicate bud within him had suddenly bloomed into a flower, its petals unfurling to reveal feelings he had kept carefully tucked away. How long had he been keeping these sentiments? He didn’t know. But in that moment, none of it mattered to him anymore.

As warmth spread through him, he quickly composed himself, maintaining his cool exterior, and hiding any signs of his sudden flush as the boy approached him cautiously. Kneeling down to the boy’s level, Wriothesley smiled warmly.

“Hello there,” he greeted the boy with genuine kindness in his voice. “I’m Wriothesley. I’m glad to see you and your friends are doing well.”

“Mister… Rye-uhh…sslee…?” the boy tried to repeat his name. 

Wriothesley chuckled at the boy's attempt to pronounce his name correctly, patting his head gently. "That's right, you got it!" 

As Wriothesley engaged with the first child, another female child who had been nearby suddenly ran up to him, asking rather loudly, "Mister, is this lady your girlfriend?"

Wriothesley's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the unexpected question, and he glanced over at you with a faint blush coloring his cheeks, though he didn’t shy away from your gaze. You couldn't help but laugh at the innocence of the child's question, but you also found yourself curious about Wriothesley's reaction.

“Hmm, good question. Do you think I make a good couple with her?” Wriothesley asked playfully, turning the question back to the curious young girl.

“Umm, I don’t know! But she is very nice! And pretty!” the girl answered honestly and innocently, just like any children would. 

“Mhm, indeed. She is lovely, I’d rather say,” Wriothesley replied, still facing the girl, his voice low and tender. The young girl giggled in response and ran off to join the other children, just like that. He let a small laugh at the girl’s reaction before turning his head back to face you, smiling.

The unexpected compliment – and his sheer confidence – sent a blush creeping up your cheeks, catching you off guard. Around you, the children giggled and continued playing, unaware of the subtle shift in the air between you and Wriothesley. You managed to give Wriothesley a warm smile in reply, attempting to mask your own shyness. 

You finally spent the evening together with the children playing, also with Wriothesley, who they had instantly warmed up to. As you made your way to the aquabus station to head back with Wriothesley by your side, the atmosphere was filled with a comfortable silence, the echoes of children's laughter still lingering in your ears.

You both traveled casually, the gentle hum of the aquabus filling the air as it glided through the water. The evening sun cast a warm glow over the scenery passing by, creating a serene atmosphere around you.

“I haven’t had the chance to see this side of you until recently,” Wriothesley spoke softly, his gaze warm as he looked at you. “You truly have a way with the children, and it's really heartwarming to see how fond they are of you.”

A soft blush tinted your cheeks at his words, and you met his gaze with a shy smile. “Well,” you replied, “I suppose our duties have kept us occupied, so it's understandable if you hadn’t noticed this side of me before.”

Wriothesley nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “True,” he agreed, “but it’s a pleasant surprise. It's clear that you genuinely care for their well-being, and it's truly admirable.”

“I guess – that makes the two of us,” you replied with a warm smile, feeling a flutter in your chest at his sincerity. You had also witnessed Wriothesley interacting with the children, and it was evident that he was a complete natural, despite his intimidating appearance at first look.

Wriothesley pondered for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Finally, after a moment, he asked you, his body a bit tense, “Say, are you interested in working a bit longer at the fortress?”

You paused, considering the offer. You knew your position at handling the cases in Fortress of Meropide was not going to last forever. But, your time at the Fortress of Meropide had been rewarding, and the thought of working alongside Wriothesley a bit longer was rather appealing. Perhaps… something was also blossoming within your heart.

 “Hmm... I can't see why not,” you replied with a warm smile.

A sense of relief washed over Wriothesley's features at your answer. He let out a sigh as he stretched his back. “Great. Then please remind me to send the letter of request to Neuvillette,” he said, grinning as his voice tinged with anticipation.

Curious, you asked, “And why would you go that far?”

“Because,” he began, his voice low but sure, “I would like to spend more time with you.”

[feraltragedy]

Ok, here it is, my very first fic! Sorry if it's absolute dog water. Bad sense of humor and a Foy Vance quote ahead.

Unholy Throne

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

CW: language, smut, oral m&f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, adult themes, mild(?) Drug use (weed), mild injury (no blood or gore)

I think that's about it for warnings. 18+ MDNI

You had been friends with the boys for a few years now. Your friendship with Noah being unusually close, but nobody seems to bat an eye at the snuggling and occasional innocent flirting. It was commonplace for you to sit on his lap and even share a bed, but the closeness and flirting was only when it was the two of you or just the other boys around, never in public or around outsiders. You saw Noah as something more, you wanted more. But there's no way he sees you more than his feral little bestfriend. Right?

Bad Omens is on hiatus and you're taking a bit off from work to spend time with them. Today, it’s hanging out at their house with a few friends. You sport a cute black pleated skirt that falls mid thigh with a light baggy sweater that is honestly too loose as it keeps slipping off of one shoulder or the other. Not your usual go-to but youre feeling sassy, and everyone can tell with your spicy attitude. The blunt being passed around earlier only adding fuel to that fire.

Everyone is in the backyard already except for Folio, who needs a sandwich before he wastes away to nothing. You're standing leaned against the counter after making your drink, watching Noah rummage through the fridge for the third time in the last thirty minutes. He seems a bit antsy today. He has asked you twice now if you want to change into one of his hoodies, as if it's tedious to him that you keep pulling it back up on your shoulders.

You pull the sweater again just as Noah is closing the fridge and he sees out of the corner of his eye.

“Go upstairs and change into my hoodie.”

“I'm good, thank you though.”

“I wasn't asking, Y/N, go change.”

His firm tone caught you a little off guard, and he's sporting that scolding look on his face. Your sassy mood has flipped to bratty before you even realize it. Normally,you would never defy him and “no” wasn't even in your vocabulary.

“No.”

The kitchen fell eerily silent. Folio’s sandwich crafting came to a halt and you can see him in the corner of your eye looking like a timid cat. But your eyes never left Noahs and his never left yours. He subtly tilted his head, now narrowing his eyes in disbelief, and slowly steps towards you like a predator hunting prey. It's intimidating, but you maintain your bratty facade despite feeling like a cornered rabbit in front of a wolf.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you correctly.”

He was standing directly in front of you now, so close you can feel his breath fan across your face with each angry exhale.

“No.”

The tension is palpable. Folio has abandoned his perfect sandwich and is slipping out the back door. Noah's focus is trained on you. There's a glint in his eye but you can't quite decipher it. In his silence you speak again.

“I said no. What are you gonna do about it big boy, hmm? You gonna spank me…, daddy?”

Maybe it's just the weed, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, but youre feeling taller than the trees right now. The way his eyes darkened at the new nickname did not go unnoticed by you. He's fully pressed against you now,your backside pressed to the counter. Fighting the urge to slide your leg up to his hip is almost a losing battle. You realize you are way in over your head and try to look anywhere but at the god before you. A tattooed hand comes up to rest on your neck, thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin to force you to keep your eyes on him.

“Real fucking bold, princess. Sweet thing has been bratty all day, now you wanna act shy.”

You bite your tongue to stifle a whimper. You're about to break right here in this kitchen while all your friends are right outside. Noah is just about to speak again when Matt swings the back door open. He comes in and grabs Folios' forgotten sandwich for him, you guess he had told Matt he was too afraid to retrieve it himself.

“You guys gonna join us outside or what?”

“Y-yeah sure, of course.” You stammer out as you manage to squeeze out of Noah’s grip and hurry to the door without looking back.

You see everyone sitting around the table carrying on a conversation and try to calm yourself as you approach to join them. Another blunt is being passed around and you are instantly relieved, no way you make it another second with your fast fading buzz. You take a hit and think to yourself that's why you were just in the previous situation, but now the dominos have already begun and you won't make it through the evening stone cold sober.

Noah hasn't given you a second look since he came outside just after you did. Maybe he doesn't feel the same and you're just reading it all wrong. Maybe it was a hallucination. Ruffilo taps your foot lightly with his to get your attention.

“You good? You looked a little far away there for a second.”

“I’m good, just trying to put off going to the bathroom. The weed makes my legs feel funny. I’m gonna go now though” you give a little laugh and head inside.

Your underwear is still a little wet from your book-tok moment with Noah so you just slide them off from under your skirt and toss them in the hamper. Your dirty clothes are in there anyways since you spent the last two nights there. The high hits real good just as you leave the bathroom. The memory of earlier fuzzy and at the back of your mind. As you make it back outside, its practically completely forgotten.

Jesse must have got here while you were upstairs, and is now sitting where you were before you got up. No big deal, you can just sit on Noah’s lap and steal someone else's seat whenever they get up. But as you go to lower yourself, a big hand is on your butt, pushing you back up. Confused, you turn to look at Noah as he looks at you with a hint of mischief on his face, so subtle you almost missed it.

“No.” Noah spoke plainly.

“What?”

“No.” A smirk played on his pretty lips this time and the memory is coming back to you. He's getting back at you for saying no.

If you could feel your face you're certain you would feel the blush that had to be creeping up at the memory. Hopefully the dim light from the nightfall will hide it from everyone else. You don't have to dwell on it too much longer as Folio is apparently starving despite that big ass sandwich he ate.

“Let’s go to the pizza buffet!”

The munchies must have its tendrils in everyone because the agreement is unanimous. You didn't even consider the amount of people versus the amount of seats in the van until Matt spoke up as everyone was getting ready to load up.

“We are one more person than there are seats. Y/N, you will have to sit in Noah’s lap.”

You're suddenly very aware of your choice to forgo underwear beneath your skirt. Your sweater slips down your shoulder and Noah audibly huffs as you pull it back up.

“Folio can sit on Jesse or Jolly! Just because I'm the shortest one here doesn't mean I have to be the one with a human for a booster seat every time there's too many people!”

Matt is over it and just got in the driver's seat. Most of the guys laughed in amusement. Folio threw his hand up in bewilderment but Noah cut him off before he could protest being the one with a human for a booster seat.

“Y/N get in the van now, you can have your tantrum after we get back.”

His tone was yet again firm, only this time you didn't dare disobey. You were, however, feeling just bold enough.

“Yes sir.”

He didn't give you a chance to see any reaction to the title, if there was any. He was climbing into the van with you in tow. With everyone in their seats, Matt took off in the direction of the pizza buffet. You would be thrilled to be on your favorite seat if your current wardrobe, or lack thereof, was not a situation of its own.

The trip is only two minutes in and the feeling of Noah’s breath on your neck is making your head swim. His hands rest on the tops of his thighs, on either side of your hips. Their warmth radiates through the thin fabric of your skirt, warming your skin that has been cooled by the chilly night air. You’re suddenly aware of your weight on his lap, the way his body perfectly fits under you, how inviting his torso feels against your back, the steadiness of the breaths fanning your neck and shoulder where your sweater slipped down again. The streetlights are the only glow in the night, you wonder if you can sneak a peek at how they illuminate his face. Before you can attempt to turn your head the tires screech and the van comes to an abrupt stop. The force of the hard braking caused you to slide forwards a few inches on Noah’s lap.

“Who the fuck pulls out in front of someone like that! If i hadn't been paying attention we woulda crashed right into those assholes! Everyone ok?

Immediately giving reassurance, voices rang with “yeah”s and “all good”s. A strong arm wraps around your waist and a warm hand slides under your thigh, pulling you back into place. Noah’s arm holds you tighter against his torso than you were previously. You felt secure.

He adjusted the hand under your thigh and you now realize there is nothing between your skin and his. The new placement puts his fingers just inches from your core, where the skin of your thigh is the softest. You try to ignore the thoughts you've had about those very fingers during lonely late nights chasing your orgasm. You're trembling ever so slightly, hoping he doesn't notice, or at least will blame it on the near accident. Your hopes are snuffed out as Noah chuckles lowly in your ear, which makes you clench around nothing. The way you are positioned so perfectly on his lap, you just know he had to pick up on it.

He leans his head in so the tip of his nose is just touching the shell of your ear. Somehow his breathing is still steady. You try to match your breaths with his to steady yours. He gives your thigh a squeeze and all hope of not letting him know the effect he has on you is completely gone. You're gone. You grind down on him, despite your own mental protest. He gasps so quietly that only you can hear it, the hand under your thigh maintains a tight grip. Your hands find the tops of his thighs, you grip tightly in an attempt to keep a hold onto reality. What you didn't expect was for his hips to roll up into yours which has you seeing stars.

Thankful now for the loud debate happening amongst all the boys about who knows what, as a small groan rumbled out of your chest. Your head lulls back and Noah’s lips ghost up your neck and settle on your ear. His breaths are now short and uneven. Maybe you weren't hallucinating, did you really have this effect on him?

“Need to feel how wet you are.” His whisper barely audible in the midst of all the other voices. It sounded needy, despirate.

You turned your head more towards him unsure if you could even speak coherently. “Please, Noah, please.”

“We're here!”

All euphoria Is ripped from your body like a bandaid and Matt's abrupt announcement has you stone cold sober. You look out the window of the van and see you have in fact arrived at the pizza buffet. Right, how could you forget the place is only about ten minutes from the house.

Everyone has piled out of the van and into the restaurant. You and Noah both wear flushed faces, praying to any deity that will take pity on you for nobody to ask about it. The adrenaline coursing through your veins masks your appetite but you know it's been a while since you've eaten, besides the pizza options actually look decent.

After you've all ate your fill, Folio enough for him and a horse, it's time to load back up into the cramped van. You take your place on your unholy throne, no argument and definitely no funny business this time. Mind racing a mile a minute, what were you thinking letting those events unfold in such close quarters with people you both spend so much time with. You can't wait to get out of there but the ride back now seems three times as long.

Back at the house bodies are scrambling to get clear of Folio's noxious gas bomb that could level a small city. Any lingering lust you may have had is definitely extinguished after that near death experience. You make a mental note to look on ebay for a gas mask. You're certain he should have to register his ass as a biological weapon.

You make your way to the kitchen, the greasy pizza wreaking havoc on your reflux. The tums aren't on the counter where you last put them. Of course someone put them with the other medicines on the top shelf in the cabinet. You're the only one that can't reach the shelf so none of the others would have given it a second thought.

The others are nowhere in sight. It's late, they are probably heading to bed after a night of beer, weed and pizza. You secretly hoped Noah would appear behind you to assist your reaching the tums, but alas, you're alone. Hoisting yourself up into the counter you finally reach what you need. Sliding one leg back off the counter you slip a bit on the material of your skirt causing your other leg to come down without an ounce of grace. A stinging on your shin brings your attention to the bright red scrape left in the wake of the counters edge.

“What happened, you ok?”

Noahs voice breaks your attention away from examining the stinging scrape.

“Yeah, just a little scrape. I couldn't reach the tums.”

“Why didn't you wait for me to help you? Let me take care of that.”

“I didn't know where you were, I assumed everyone had gone off to bed. And ‘that’ is fine I promise, just a scrape.”

You must have not heard him say he was going to the bathroom when you got back over the jokes about Folio playing the gluteal tuba. He tells you to let him just take a look anyways and you oblige him, following him upstairs to his room. You lean against the gaming desk as he lowers Himself to his knees to get a better look. Holding your calf in his hand to pull your leg closer, you can't help but be amused by the goofy look on his face.

“Oh yeah, I'll have to amputate this immediately!”

You laugh at his exaggerated demeanor.

“Nah you were right, you will be ok princess. No surgery tonight, just a kiss for it, doctor's orders!”

He plants a gentle barely-there kiss near the scrape on your shin. But his hands and lips are migrating up your legs

“I think that should cover it, doctor.” You giggle out.

“The doctor has left the building princess.” The playful look in his eyes has been replaced by something you can only describe as hunger.

That familiar sensation ignites your bones, making your head swim as you feel his lips on your mid thigh. His breath fans under your skirt along with his hands that have now reached your bare hips. It's easy to get lost in the clouds, Noah kneeling before you, igniting your skin like petrol soaked paper and fireworks.

His hand hooks under your thigh, lifting your leg and resting the bend of your knee on his shoulder. He looks up to you as if to see any hesitation. Finding none in your hooded eyes he dives in. A deliberate stripe of his tongue knocks the wind out of your lungs. Your hands weave into his hair as his movements become more that of a starving animal.

Your supporting leg starts to feel weak, orgasm already approaching due to the all day teasing. Noah must have taken notice, he effortlessly lifts you just enough to seat your ass on the edge of the desk. He wastes no time continuing his feast, only this time he inserts two fingers, almost immediately perfecting his position and rhythm. Both legs thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, palms on the desk defying your wavering muscles to hold your torso up.

Your skirt has bunched and rolled up, revealing the Roman artwork in front of you. Noah's big hands wrapped so perfectly around your thighs, fingertips indenting the soft skin like a Bernini sculpture. He groans when your thighs clamp around his head and it sounds like heaven. His pace is steady, the sensation of his mouth and fingers almost too much. An orgasm crashes over you like a tsunami and your arms can no longer hold you up, leaving you on your back.

He hasn't slowed down his movements despite how sensitive you are. Now it is overwhelming. The sensation is painfully delicious and your hips have a mind of their own as you ride his face into your next orgasm. His movements have come to a halt, but he stays in place to await you to still.

It seems irrational to think you could drown someone this way, but that thought crosses your mind anyways. You didn't even know it was possible to squirt outside of the few times you managed to make yourself. His hands move to the insides of your thighs just above your knees and you can hear his ragged breathing.

Those signs of life being all the confirmation you needed, you gather your strength and raise yourself up to get him in your line of sight. He hasn't let go of you but he is now sitting back onto the heels of his feet. He looks at you in awe and any insecurities you felt have vanished.

Raising up to stand he puts one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your thigh. His lust blown eyes never leaving yours. Both panting breathlessly.

“That. Was. Beautiful. So good princess.”

His lips are on yours for the first time and the taste of you on them is sinful. Tongues dancing, your legs wrap around his waist pulling him closer. You can feel the effect you have on him and grind against his erection. The heightened sensitivity causing you to moan which Is entombed by his lips. Your fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, urging him to take it off. You don't get to revel in the beauty of the tattoos littering his perfect skin as he moves in to pull your sweater over your head. Swiftly, he removes your lace bralette.

“You're a pro at that Noah, I didn't know taking off a bra was such a skill.”

“Surely you didn't think the only skill my fingers have is playing guitar?”

“If I did I definitely don't now.”

With that he wraps your legs around his waist and lifts you up. He sits on the bed and you are once again on your unholy throne. His skin is hot against your bare chest. One of your hands holds onto his bicep, the other ghosting fingertips over his neck. You've always admired the tattoos there. You seize the opportunity and plant kisses from his lips, along his jaw, and down the side of his neck.

There isn't an ounce of shyness in you now. Your hand leaves his bicep to tug on his hair, tilting his chin up and better exposing his neck. You kiss, lick, and nip at the skin to your heart's content. Making your way down his chest and stomach, you mentally map every inch of skin and ink. Upon reaching the waistband of his pants you return the look in search of permission. His face still painted with desire and hunger, he licks his pretty lips and nods his head. You undo the button and tug Down his pants and underwear just enough.

Nice cock.

You mimic his move with a deliberate tongue stripe up his length before taking him between your lips. Hollowing out your cheeks on the way up elicits the sweetest moan from him. Wanting to hear more You pick up your pace, your tongue and lips perfectly harmonized, now drawing out the prettiest moans you've ever heard. This 6’3 heavily tattooed metal head is coming undone beneath you. His hands are in your hair and he's a moaning mess.

A hand moves to the side of your face signaling you to stop. Before you can question him he speaks and it sounds like begging, almost whimpering.

“Gonna make me cum. Need to feel you.”

“Yes sir.”

He all but growls, standing as you do. He captures your lips in a needy kiss, one hand still gripping your hair. Your hands all over him before tugging at his pants. He breaks the kiss to remove what's left of his clothing. You reach for the waistband of your skirt but he is quick to stop you.

“Nu uh, keep this pretty thing on. It's been driving me insane since you put it on, I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you in it and now I'm going to.” He puts his hands on your hips to turn your back towards him. “Turn around, want you to ride me like I'm your throne. I know how much you love sittin’ on me princess.”

His statement would have made you blush if you weren't so empowered by your own lust. You follow his lead, waiting for him to be seated before claiming your throne. Sinking down on him slowly you try to find the balance between adjusting to him and fucking yourself dumb on his dick.

Once fully seated you pause to breathe for a moment. You refrain from quoting Olaf about being impaled. His arms wrap around you and he leans his chest into your back. His lips against your ear, breath hot against your skin, just like the van.

“Whenever you're ready princess, I got you.”

Not a moment longer you start moving. Being wrapped securely in his arms while he moans so slutty in your ear Is intoxicatingly erotic. Any attempt to keep the noise at a minimum has left and the room is filled with a mixture of both your moans and inaudible ramblings like the writing of a symphony. His arms move with you, holding you steady to help you keep your rhythm despite your shaky legs. His name falls off your lips over and over like a prayer that's sure to awaken the angels.

“Feel so good, taking me so good. That's it princess, doing so good for me.”

“Noahhh… god.”

“Can feel you're close baby, let go. Cum for me, claim me.”

His praises sending you over the edge, a mix of moans and curses flow from your mouth, his name coming out like a chant. Another orgasm wracks through your body, his following shortly after. He doesn't let go, neither of you move to separate. Your breathing is matched by his, short and heavy. His voice is low and husky In your ear.

“Always been yours princess. You claimed your throne the first time you had to sit on my lap when we all went out after that show in Vegas. Remember the van was so full even Folio had to have a human for a booster seat.”

You chuckle at the memory of Folio sitting in Jesse's lap, neither of them were thrilled. But you felt like you were right where you belong, like you were a queen sitting on her throne. An unholy throne.

Noah leads you to the shower so you can both get cleaned up after the day's events. Once you take your skirt off he jokes about finally seeing you naked for the first time. This man will never cease to amaze you.

After you're both clean and dry, Noah pulls out clothes. He would usually hand you one of his shirts to wear to bed, but this time he puts it on you himself. Such a small act felt so intimate. You felt claimed.

Sharing a bed and snuggling was nothing new, but this time was different. All the times you wished you could kiss his perfect nose and pretty lips while laying so close, now you are. You swear if he were a cat he would be purring, clearly loving your extra affections. Sleep greets you both soon, but not before a thought creeps in your head, hoping everyone else had been long passed out and deaf to the symphony that occurred in Noah's room.

The next morning, you walk downstairs together to see everyone else has woken up before you. It seems like you're in the clear, until overlapping mimicking of yours and Noah's perfect symphony is being screeched by all the boys at once. You almost feel embarrassed but Noah plops down on his spot on the couch, pulling you down with him. Sitting on his lap you feel at ease, finding yourself laughing at the boys’ antics. A tattooed hand finds it's way to your neck, thumb and finger gripping your chin to make you look at him. The smile on his face mirrors yours as he pulls you in for a kiss. Of course everyone had to be dramatic about that, one telling you to get a room, a couple others still making their exaggerated moans. These people are lunatics, and you feel at home.

[maximoffcarter]

Bad idea.

Pairings: Casey Novak x reader.

Warnings: SMUT.

Summary: The moment reader joined the squad, she knew she was lost the moment she laid eyes on ADA Casey Novak. After a tough case, they decide to celebrate it at a bar on a crowded Saturday night. There might be a turn of events.

A/n: And the winner is here, as promised😏 Spicy Saturday Night (or maybe morning for some of you or afternoon…) So…not gonna confirm or deny that this was a personal request? It was an idea I got for something I read, and couldn’t help myself but to write this and share it with all you beautiful people cause I know yall love some spicy times with Casey Novak😌 I’m working on your requests guys, I’m slowly coming back to writing and they’ll be posted as soon as I finish them. Thanks for the love and for keep reading my stories🥹 Keep the requests coming you guys! Enjoy and leave your comments, reblogs, hearts, whatever you'd like, will be very much appreciated🫶🏻

*not my gif.*

One thing about working at SVU was the exhaustion that they felt after every single case. So, for the first time in a while, they all had agreed to go to a bar to celebrate a win after days of stress. The problem? It was Saturday night, so of course the place was going to be crowded, and they even felt somehow weird to be surrounded by younger people, but they still decided they’d have a great time. They found themselves a nice place -in the very corner of the bar-, but at least they had some place to sit. As soon they found the table, they started ordering some drinks and some snacks, soon enough they started chatting and joking around, wanting to forget about the job for at least that night.

As they engaged into conversation, Olivia was soon to push y/n to talk to Casey. Since y/n joined the squad, the very first moment she had laid eyes on Casey, y/n had been in awe of how beautiful and gorgeous Casey looked that day. Since that day, y/n was a mess whenever she was around Casey, of course, she was professional when she needed to be, but she couldn’t help but be a bundle of nerves whenever Casey stood beside her, or sat beside her, anything Casey did, and y/n was melting. But tonight, the squad had planned to give them a little push, hoping that their little plan would work.

It was after Munch and Fin arrived that they had figured out that they had grabbed a small table with obviously not enough chairs, and there was only one left. Olivia took this opportunity to look at y/n and then around the table and put out there her idea.

“Guess someone will have to share because there is no way we’re getting an extra chair with this crowd.” Olivia chuckled softly as she looked around the table, but specifically, to y/n.

Fin turned to look at Munch as he laughed. “Wanna sit on my lap?”

Munch scoffed as he took the seat before Fin could even think about. “In your dreams.”

“I’m good here in the booth. It’s comfortable and spacious.” Melinda shrugged as she took a sip of her drink.

“Oh, I could move to the booth, but one of you guys have to move.” Olivia grinned as she looked at y/n, who was looking at her confused.

“You want me to move? To where?” Y/n shook her head, the alcohol making her mind take its time to process things.

“You can sit on my lap.” Casey simply said, a small smile on her face as she looked at y/n.

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly as she looked at Casey. “W-What?”

“There you go! Problem solved. Fin, take my chair, I’ll take y/n’s place but let me get beside Melinda so you guys can easily get up.”

Before y/n could finish registering what was happening, Casey took her hand and stood up with her so Olivia could go ahead and sit beside Melinda. Casey sat back down and didn’t even hesitate to pull y/n with her and soon enough, y/n was sitting on her lap. The squad soon engaged back in conversation, completely ignoring the fact that y/n was now on Casey’s lap, and had her arm wrapped around her waist as if Casey was trying to stop her from leaving. Y/n tried to focus on her drink, her mind spiraling with thoughts as she tried to process the fact that this was even happening. For a moment she thought the alcohol was making her hallucinate. Casey noticed how quiet y/n had become, thinking that maybe y/n had been drinking enough and it was getting to her.

Casey tilted her head slightly, enough to be able to look at the side of y/n’s face. “You okay, y/n?” Casey asked gently, her eyes searching her face to make sure she had heard Casey.

Y/n turned her head and offered a smile. “W-Why wouldn’t I be? Just…focusing on the conversation.” She chuckled softly as she patted Casey’s thigh without even thinking about it.

Casey raised her brow but didn’t say anything about it anymore. But then, something inside her mind clicked. She grinned softly as she nodded, grabbing her drink, and taking a sip of it. “If you say so, princess.”

Y/n’s breath hitched when Casey called her princess, she felt her cheeks heating up as she stared at her. She scoffed as she shook my head, trying to play it cool to not show her the effect she had on her. “I’m fine. Just focusing on Fin’s conversation.”

“I wasn’t even talking.” Fin snapped as he looked at y/n, suddenly all of their attention was on y/n.

Y/n turned to look at Fin. “You were.”

“I finished like 10 min ago.”

Munch grinned. “Someone is distracted I see.”

“I…” Y/n looked at him and shook her head, huffing a chuckle. “I’m not. I really thought he was still talking.”

“And you also seem to be a bit drunk. You’re all flustered there. Or are you blushing because you’re sitting in Novak’s lap?” Melinda teased as she smirked.

If stares killed, Melinda would surely be gone by now. She sighed and offered a fake smile to her, cursing inside her mind as she saw her laughing at her reaction. “I’m fine. I won’t drink anymore if that’s what you’re worried about.” She shrugged as she finished her last shot and looked back at them.

Casey chuckled at her stubborn nature - finding it both adorable. She rolled her eyes, not believing a single word that came out of her mouth. “Right, because you’ve been soooo good at sticking to your word so far.”

They let it die for a while, returning to their conversation, but Casey was still amused by y/n’s reaction. She had been acting differently before she had sat on Casey’s lap, and if Casey didn’t know better, she’d say that she was uncomfortable sitting there, but she knew that she didn’t actually mind, more so because she knew about y/n’s crush on her. She tried to hide her smirk behind her drink but couldn’t help the thought that this was her chance to tease her a bit. A tiny teasing was no harm.

Casey gently placed her hand over y/n’s thigh, lightly squeezing it, the alcohol was definitely making her bolder. She leaned in close to her, her breath lightly hitting her ear. “You're so cute when you're blushing like that, princess. You know that?"

At first, sitting on her lap didn’t seem like such a bad idea, now, it just seemed to be the worst/best idea she could’ve had. And this was when she thought it was the worst; as she was having a sip of her drink, suddenly she felt Casey’s hand on her thigh and her breath hitting her ear, making her choke on her drink. She swallowed hard as she heard Casey’s words, slightly turning her head to look at her, her lips parting slightly as she tried to suppress the moan that was stuck in her throat. “I…t-thanks.”

Casey chuckled at her reaction, seeing the way when just her hand on her thigh and her breath on her ear affected her so much. She decided to have a little bit more fun with her, just to see how she would react, and maybe get a better look at that cute face of hers when she blushed. She gently gripped her chin, turning her head to face her now. She smiled, her eyes staring into hers. "Can I tell you something princess?"

Y/n’a breath hitched slightly as she looked into Casey’s eyes. She licked her lips nervously as she nodded. “S-Sure.”

Casey leaned in again, her lips brushing against y/n’s ear as she spoke, not wanting anyone else to hear what she was going to say. “You know, you've been driving me absolutely crazy, sitting on my lap." She whispered as she smirked, her hot breath teasing over her ear again.

At that point y/n felt like she’d have some sort of heart attack or that she’d simply stop breathing at some point. Her eyes never left Casey’s, the whole time she spoke. Did she know? About the crush? She had to; she knew she couldn’t lie to Casey. Her words made her whole body shiver, cursing under her breath on how she had such an effect on her with simple touches and words, her face just inches apart from hers, and she wanted to just lean in and-

“You guys should definitely get a room. It’s getting so hot in here.” Melinda chuckled softly as she high five Olivia.

“You have our girl dying over here, Novak. Her little crush is full on showing.” Elliot smirked.

Y/n rapidly snapped her head to look at Elliot. “What?! I do not have a crush on Casey. Casey and I are good friends. That’s all.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, a hint of shakiness.

Casey had to hold back a laugh at y/n’s sudden response to Elliot, at the way her voice went up a pitch and how defensive she was. Instead, she chuckled softly, continuing to smirk, knowing that there was some truth to Elliot’s statement. She lightly squeezed her thigh, giving her a little warning to not get overly defensive. "Oh, don't deny it. Anyone can tell that you're obviously in denial about your feelings for me."

Fuck. She knew. She fucking knew. Y/n turned to look at Casey for a moment and then turned to look at Elliot and the squad. She was so going to kill them for doing this. She chuckled nervously and shook her head. “I do not have a crush. You’re reaching.”

“She’s got you on her lap and you’re one breath away from passing out. C’mon, y/n. You’re not that good at lying.” Munch chuckled.

“Or maybe they’re really just friends, let it go, guys.” Fin joked, chuckling with Munch.

Casey smirked once again as the squad started going in on y/n for having a crush on her, knowing good and well that she did. She gripped y/n’s thigh a little tighter, seeing how she was getting slightly flustered and tried to deny it all once again. She decided then to chime in, leaning down and to her ear, whispering while squeezing her thigh again, her tone slightly cocky. "You sure you don’t have a crush on me, princess? You’re getting awfully defensive.”

Y/n was slightly startled as she felt Casey squeezing her thigh, a small whimper leaving her lips. She was starting to regret wearing a skirt that day. “N-No. I mean…I’m not defensive. It’s just the alcohol.”

“Ah, the alcohol. So, it wouldn’t do anything to you if Casey just started kissing your neck or something like that.” Olivia raised her brows as she smirked.

Casey’s smirk only widened as she heard that small whimper escaped her lips, taking that as a good sign that she couldn’t hold back her reaction to her anymore. Her hand kept gently rubbing up and down her thigh. "Yeah, would it?"

Y/n sighed as she stared at Olivia, wanting so badly to slap her right on the face to wipe off that smirk. She was pushing, and she knew it. “Why don’t you drop it, Benson?” She faked a smile as she grabbed her other drink.

Once again, the squad dropped it, and started chatting again, but Casey was amused and slightly annoyed by the whole situation, seeing how she was trying to deflect the question and avoid further discussion. She couldn't just drop it the way y/n wanted her to. She watched as she took another sip of her drink. She leaned into her ear again, her breath lightly brushing over it as she spoke. “You didn't answer the question, princess."

Y/n almost choked on her drink again as she spoke in her ear once again. She felt her chest heavy, and it was getting harder to breath. She tried to play it cool, pretending like she was listening to the squad’s conversation. She licked her lips softly and cleared her throat, looking down at her drink and placing the glass on her lips just so she could cover them, and the squad couldn’t see that I was answering Casey. “No…it wouldn’t.” She whispered softly as she took another sip of her drink. But of course, that was a lie, and she knew that she knew it.

Casey chuckled upon hearing her answer as she knew that she wasn’t really being honest with her response. Her hand continued to rub up and down her thigh, gently squeezing it every now and then. “And if I just started kissing your neck, what then?" Casey smirked.

Y/n’s breath hit her at her question, feeling shivers running down through her whole body as she tried to remain calm or at least put together. She sighed softly as she shook her head slightly. “You wouldn’t.” She whispered back.

Casey smirked even wider, loving the way she was shaking just at her question. She continued to gently squeeze her thigh, her hand occasionally shifting a little further up and then back down. She gently placed her chin on her shoulder, her lips getting inches away from her neck. She gently bit her earlobe, gently speaking against her skin. "And what makes you think I wouldn’t, princess?”

Y/n gasped quietly as she felt her biting her earlobe, the way she kept gripping her thigh, the way she kept whispering in her ear. She was driving her insane. She swallowed hard as she tried to focus on both Casey’s words and also the squad’s conversation. “Casey, you need to stop…” She whispered softly, but her voice wavered again, betraying her because she knew deep down that she was dying to feel her.

Casey chuckled against her ear once again, thoroughly enjoying hearing the way her voice wavered. She pressed a light kiss to her neck, her hand gently shifting even further up on her thigh, getting under her skirt, getting so close to her underwear. “But why should I stop, baby?” She continued the gentle kisses on her neck, moving to her pulse point, licking it softly and then nipping slightly.

Y/n bit her lip and swallowed back the moan that wanted to come out, closing her eyes for a slight moment but remembering where they were, so she tried to keep her eyes open. She placed one of her hands on the side of Casey’s thigh, gripping it tightly, not sure if it was to stop her or to encourage her to keep going, or just to hold onto something. She licked her lips slowly, trying to calm her beating heart. “Casey…” She whispered softly, a moan getting stuck in her throat again.

Casey couldn't help but chuckle enjoying the way y/n’s hand instinctively squeezed her thigh. She continued to kiss and gently suck on that sensitive spot on her neck, wanting to hear her make those delicious sounds. Her hand finally reached the spot where she knew she so desperately needed her, gently rubbing against the fabric of her underwear. She hummed against her skin as she spoke. "Yes, princess?"

She gasped as she felt her fingertips brushing against her underwear, and the way she kept kissing and gently sucking on her neck. Her eyes widened slightly and were filled with desire as she instinctively bucked her hips, wanting to get friction, anything that would help her with the throbbing between her legs. But just as she was about to answer her, the squad had brought their attention back to them which made her grip Casey’s thigh to stop her.

“You looking a little nervous there, y/n. What is Casey telling you, huh?” Olivia teased as she smirked.

“It would be so much fun to see how you definitely do not have a crush on Casey.” Melinda smirked as she kept pushing.

Casey wished Olivia and Melinda wouldn’t have interrupted, she wanted y/n to keep bucking her hips against her, but she pulled her hand back, but she didn't stop the kisses on her neck, enjoying the frustrated groan that she tried to hold back. She glanced up at Olivia and Melinda, seeing the smirks on their faces and the way they were trying to push the issue further. “Oh please, she's fine. Just a little flustered right now." She retorted, shaking her head in disbelief. She was about to continue with her teasing, but she was cut off by her phone ringing in her pocket. She quickly pulled it out to see who was calling.

“Boyfriend calling, Novak?” Elliot teased as he raised his brow.

Casey chuckled at Elliot’s comment, clearly amused by it. She pulled the phone out and quickly glanced at the caller ID before returning her attention to them. She realized that it was the perfect opportunity to tease her as she noticed y/n tensing up at Elliot’s question. It was just too perfect to pass up. “Actually, it’s my girlfriend,” Casey said, nonchalantly. “She’s probably calling to check up on me.”

Y/n felt her heart dropping at the mention of a ‘girlfriend’, suddenly feeling butterflies in her stomach but definitely not the good kind. She felt sadness take over her and she felt sick to her stomach at the thought that even right now, she had just been teasing her, touching her, and kissing her neck, it could mean something, but it didn’t. She suddenly shut down and looked down at her empty glass and going quiet.

“Girlfriend?! And you didn’t tell us?!” Munch asked surprised, and suddenly the squad, especially Olivia, were staring at y/n before turning their attention back to Casey.

Casey internally cursed at herself as the squad erupted in shock at her 'news', realizing that her plan to tease y/n, backfired big time. She should've known better than to play with her feelings like that. She was distracted from her thoughts by the noticeable distance now placed between the two and she immediately regretted opening her mouth. Casey quickly realized that she needed to try to salvage the situation somehow, and so she did the only thing she could think of: she lied. “Yeah, I’ve been seeing her for a few months now,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

It seemed like time had stopped right in that moment, and suddenly, y/n was completely sober. She licked her lips anxiously as she kept her stare to her glass, not wanting to look at Casey, and suddenly feeling uncomfortable on her lap. Why would she be like that if she had a girlfriend? Why would she do all that if she was seeing someone else? It was painful. “I’ll go get more drinks.” She said before she stood up quickly and walked to the bar.

Casey’s heart stopped entirely as she saw y/n walking away, wanting to slap herself from trying to tease her with that. What was she even thinking that she’d get? Maybe she wanted to see her get jealous, maybe she just wanted to see how far she could go before y/n actually confessed that she had a crush, but she had taken it too far. And then, she heard Fin saying something about a guy, and as she turned to look at the bar, her heart shattered witnessing the interaction between y/n and some random guy, feeling a wave of jealousy wash over her despite having no right to because she had caused this. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself grounded, hating the way her mind began to race with ‘what-ifs’.

As she forced herself to look back at the team, she was met with the sight of Olivia giving her a knowing look, a smirk forming on her face. Melinda couldn't help but stifle a chuckle while Munch silently mouthed 'damn' at Casey. “I know, okay? I fucked up.”

“Then, go and fix it before you actually lose your chance.” Olivia raised her brow as she elbowed Casey.

For a few more moments, Casey remained frozen in her spot, watching the way y/n laughed and joked around with the guy. She watched for a few moments, before she noticed that she had said something to the guy and then made her way to the bathroom, but then Casey noticed how the guy looked around and followed behind. Something inside her snapped, and she found herself standing up, making her way towards the bathroom too rapidly.

Casey made sure to hurry up before the guy could even think about walking in the bathroom, bumping into him and looking at him with a fake smile. “Sorry, girls' bathroom.” She shrugged before she walked in and closed the door, locking it. She watched as y/n leaned over the sink, the sight of her like that only making the heat in her body flare even more. She waited a few moments before stepping up behind her, her hands gently resting on her waist, the heat of her skin now transferring to hers. She gently pressed herself up against y/n’s back, her body pressing against hers, her voice a soft whisper in her ear. “You didn't think you could just walk away after that, princess?"

Y/n had been so distracted, her mind was entirely in another place that she had not heard Casey walking into the bathroom. She let out a gasp as she felt her hands resting on her waist, looking at her through the mirror as she pressed herself against her back. I took a deep shaky breath before I could actually get my words out. “What are you even doing here?” She whispered softly, my eyes not leaving hers through the mirror.

Casey felt good knowing that she still had a reaction to her touch, that maybe there was still a way to salvage this. “We need to talk.”

Y/n scoffed as she pushed Casey away and turned to face. “We don’t have anything to talk about. You can clearly see I’m not drunk, and I perfectly am conscious of what happened back there.”

Casey’s gaze darkened at her stubbornness. She stepped closer to y/n, closing the already small distance between the two, her eyes locked with hers. It was clear that she wasn't going to back down. “You don't have anything to talk about? Really?" She let out a humorless laugh as she shook her head. “You don't have anything to say to me after I saw you with that guy and he was following you here?”

Y/n furrowed her brows, confused as to what she meant the guy had followed her, but then she scoffed, taking a step back without noticing that her back was almost hitting the wall. She shook my head and then shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know what I have to say about that. I wanted him here. We were going to have a good time. And either way, why do you care? Don’t you have to go home to your new girlfriend? I’m sure she’s missing you terribly.” I grinned sarcastically.

Casey felt the pang of jealousy hit her, her heart clenching at the thought of that guy coming in here to fuck her. She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer to her once again, her body almost pinning her against the wall behind her. “You really think I don’t care?” She took another step closer, her voice low and intense as she spoke. “You don’t think I care that I had to watch you smiling and laughing like that with someone that isn’t me?”

Y/n furrowed her brows as she stared at Casey, swallowing hard as she stepped closer to me, her heart beating faster with anger and sadness too. Why was she doing this to her? Why was she torturing her? She had someone back home and she still wanted her to just stay behind and do nothing for myself? It hurt. “And why would you care? You should care if your girlfriend does that. You and I are friends. Why would you care if I decide to take him home and fuck him?” She raised her brow as she defied her, not wanting to give herself up and let sadness take over her.

Casey’s eyes darkened at her defiant tone, her heart breaking at the thought of y/n with someone else. There was a desperate pang in her chest, her hands clenching into fists at her sides out of anger and frustration. Casey suddenly lunged forward, closing the distance between them, and pinning y/n against the wall, her body pressed against hers. “Because I can't stand the thought of you being with someone that isn't me," she snapped, her voice dripping with possessiveness.

Y/n gasped loudly as she felt her back hitting the wall, her eyes widening slightly as Casey pressed her body against hers. She looked into her eyes and her breath hitched slightly. If there was any alcohol left in her system, it was completely gone now, she was more sober than ever. She swallowed hard at her words, and then they hit her, her lips parting slightly. “You…don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” She whispered softly as her eyes darted all over her face. “You said that to get a reaction out of me.”

Casey felt her own heart racing in her chest as she finally had y/n pinned against the wall, the proximity making her feel alive. Her gaze remained fixed on hers, her body pressed firmly against hers, as she spoke in a low, almost inaudible whisper. “I lied," she admitted, her voice barely audible above the bass of the bar music that leaked through the bathroom door. “It was a stupid move, and I shouldn't have done it." A sad huff of laughter left her lips.

Y/n’s whole body shivered, her heart now pounding in her chest as she let her words sink in. She licked her lips softly as she stared into her eyes, suddenly her stomach was filled with butterflies, and this time…they were good ones. The sad huff of laughter that left her lips, it made her realize how she had regretted saying that. Casey had shown so many signs that she wanted her just as much as y/n wanted her, and she had been blind. She placed her hands on her neck, keeping her head up so she could look into her eyes. “Then show me that I belong to you.” She whispered softly.

Casey’s breath hitched at the feeling of her hands on her neck, the words leaving her lips igniting a fire within her. Without a moment's hesitation, she leaned in, her mouth crashing against y/n’s in a fierce and passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with months of unsaid words and pent-up desire, her body molding perfectly against hers, leaving no space between the two of them. Y/n felt her breath catch in the back of her throat, she let her eyes flutter shut as she felt the passion and the fierce feeling on the kiss, it was finally happening, letting herself completely melt against her, wrapping her arms around her neck, pulling her closer. She didn’t care about how needy or desperate she might’ve seemed. Y/n let her tongue swipe against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, making Casey gasp at the feeling of her tongue against her bottom lip, and she willingly parted her lips to let her in, her own tongue immediately coming out to tangle with hers.

Casey pressed her hips against y/n’a, trapping her against the wall, her hands roaming over her body, desperately wanting to feel more. She broke the kiss for just a moment, her breathing heavy and her voice low and husky. “You have no idea how badly I've wanted you, princess... ever since the first moment I laid eyes on you..."

Y/n bucked her hips against hers to find any sort of friction. Her hands moved up to her hair, trying to keep her closer, but then she felt shivers running down her spine at Casey’s words, her lips parting in surprise as she stared into her eyes.* “Really?” She asked softly, not believing her words, and thinking maybe it had been the alcohol talking.

Casey leaned in, her lips brushing against her ear, her fingers caressing the exposed skin of her thigh, slowly trailing up higher under the fabric of her skirt. She nuzzled into her neck, her voice low as she spoke. "Yes, baby…you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to touch you, to feel you, to taste you…”

Y/n let out a shaky gasp as she felt her fingers caressing her thigh once again, making her whine quietly. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, giving Casey more access to her neck, her fingers ran through her hair, gripping it to keep her close. “I-I’ve wanted you too…so badly. God, I need you so badly, Casey.” She breathed out as she moaned, her hips bucking more into hers.

Casey smiled against her neck, she trailed her fingers a little higher under her skirt, her teeth gently biting down on her neck, marking it with a small bite. Her voice low and husky as she responded. “Mmm…I can tell just how badly you need me."

Y/n moaned louder as she bit down on her neck, thankful that the music was loud enough for her moans to stay in the bathroom. And when she felt her fingertips tracing her inner thigh, she couldn’t help but breathe heavily. “Please, Casey…I need you…” She moaned out as she moved her head to stare into her eyes, her hands gripping her shoulders.

Casey moved her leg between hers, her thigh brushing against the sensitive spot between her legs, the only fabric separating their bodies were y/n’a underwear and her pants. She moved her hand further up her thigh, her fingers gently tracing along the edge of her underwear. "Please what, princess?"

Y/n wrapped on of her arms around Casey’s neck to support herself while the other stayed gripping her hair, feeling like her knees where about to give up because of the pleasure she felt. As her fingers traced the edge of her underwear, she let out needy moan, her hand gripping her shirt. “F-Fuck, Case. I need you. Please, just touch me.” She whispered softly as she stared into her eyes.

Casey leaned in, her lips right next to her ear as she whispered. "Is that what you need, princess? For me to touch you?" Without waiting for an answer, she pressed her leg even harder against her center, her hands moving to lift up her skirt, which was now rucked up around her waist, one of her hands moving back to her hips and the other teasing her inner thigh, getting so close to where she needed her.

Y/n gasped loudly at her sudden moves, the pressure her leg was putting against her center and the way her hands rapidly moved to lift her skirt. Her hand gripped Casey’s shirt and the other moved to her neck, bringing their faces close, their lips brushing against each other as she bucked her hips against her leg and hand. “Please stop teasing me and fuck me. I need you now, Casey.” She groaned softly, desperate to feel Casey’s fingers inside of her or any sort of friction at this point, her underwear surely ruined.

Casey leaned in, her lips brushing against her, chuckling darkly. "Mmm…desperate, are we, princess?" she teased, a sly smile on her face. She moved her underwear aside and her fingers finally moved towards her pussy, gently she ran them between her folds, feeling the wetness that has accumulated, a soft moan leaving her lips.

Y/n chuckled softly against her lips, blushing slightly at her words. “Can you blame me?” But then, she felt her fingers, a shaky gasp escaped me as her body arched against her. She let out another moan. "Oh god…please, that feels so good…" She whimpered softly, barely able to get the words out.

Casey moved her fingers in gentle circles, moving through her folds, to her entrance but avoiding her clit. Her lips moved to her neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses and bites along the sensitive skin. "Mmm…I love the way you moan for me, princess..." She smirked before she slipped two fingers inside her and began to slowly thrust her fingers in a slow motion.

Y/n moaned loudly, and rested her forehead against her shoulder, small pants leaving her lips as her fingers moved inside her, her hips instinctively moving with her. “F-Fuck, Casey…” She moaned as she buried her face into the crook of her neck.

Even though they were in a public place, Casey didn't care at all if anyone heard them or what they would think. Casey started a quick rhythm, adding a third finger and curling them inside her with each thrust. She then pressed her thumb to her clit, so she could push her closer to the edge with each thrust. Her lips were attached to her neck, nibbling, and licking every inch of her neck. Y/n tried so hard to stay quiet, knowing perfectly they were in a public place, specifically, in a bathroom, but she couldn’t keep her moans inside when Casey was making her feel so good. It was becoming harder to breathe, her body trembling and her hips thrusting more into Casey. Her brain went blank when she felt the way she was fucking her, the way her lips kept nibbling and licking her neck. She was close, she could feel it. Y/n grabbed Casey’s face and crashed their lips together.

Y/n could barely kiss her, panting more than anything, moaning loudly, she felt her body begin to melt. “C-Casey…I…I’m close…”

Casey’s fingers continued their quick and relentless rhythm, the kiss messy and sloppy at some point. She crooks her fingers into you, rocking them in and out with a wet squelch. She broke the kiss as she panted, biting her lip, and pulling on it before she stared into her eyes, grinning softly. “Come for me, princess. I want to hear you…” She curled her fingers and leaned down to nip on her neck.

It became almost impossible to speak, y/n’s words becoming broken and shaky, her breath getting more and more labored as she got closer and closer. “Oh God…I’m…I’m gonna-“ She gasped out, her body trembling and her knees shaking, her hips moving against her fingers, trying to find the release she desperately needed. “F-fuck…” The feeling of her fingers and her words were enough to bring her right to the edge, gasping and trembling. With a final push, her back arched, her moans getting louder as her body literally twitched as her climax hit. “Casey! F-fuck…!” She couldn’t stop herself from screaming her name, her grip tightened on her as she came.

Casey continued working her through her orgasm, her fingers not stopping, wanting to prolong her pleasure for as long as she could. The feeling of her body trembling against her was a feeling she never wanted to forget, and she didn’t stop until her body finally relaxed. She slowly pulled away, her heart racing as she stared at her, completely in awe at how beautiful she looked at that moment. “God, you’re gorgeous…” She whispered as she pulled her fingers out slowly, bringing them to y/n’s lips. “Open…”

She couldn’t help but feel a mixture of emotions swirling inside her, her entire body on a high after experiencing such intense pleasure. As she heard her calling her gorgeous, her cheeks turned beet red, she couldn’t help but bite back a smile, panting heavily as she tried to calm down. She grabbed Casey’s hand, wrapping her lips around them, licking them clean, her tongue swirling around her fingers and moaning at her own taste. She pulled her fingers out of her mouth with a pop, her eyes meeting Casey’s. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Watching y/n clean Casey’s fingers off like that, seeing her taste herself, it was absolutely sinful. Casey was absolutely enraptured by her, and she found herself unable to take her eyes off of her. With her free hand, she brought it up to her face, brushing back her hair, gently caressing her cheek. “God, you’re so beautiful…so perfect…”

Y/n leaned against Casey’s hand, turning her head slightly to kiss her palm, her breathing slowly coming back to normal. “So are you…I’ve wanted you for so long.” She chuckled softly as she stared into her eyes.

Casey smiled, her heart swelling with affection. Her hands moved to y/n’s waist, gently pulling her closer, wanting to be as close as possible. “I’ve wanted you for months. You were all I could think about. And…I am so sorry about the girlfriend thing. I thought I’d tease you about it and now I know it was a fucked up thing.”

Y/n smiled softly as she shook her head, her hands going to Casey’s neck and traced her jawline with her thumbs. “I mean…it was a fucked up thing but…it’s alright. You made up for it.” She grinned as she chuckled, leaning in, and placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

Casey sighed softly as she leaned her forehead against hers, chuckling softly too as she shook her head. “You know the squad won’t stop teasing us about this, right?”

“Oh, that I am sure of. I’m already preparing myself.” Y/n chuckled again as she pulled away enough to look at Casey, running her fingers through it. “So…can I return the favor?” She bit her lip softly as her eyes darted down to Casey’s lips and then back to her eyes.

Casey chuckled softly at her words but smirked, her hands moving to fix y/n’s skirt, pulling it down but not before she squeezed y/n’s ass. “How does going back to my place sound? I think we would be way more comfortable.” She raised her brow as she leaned down and kissed y/n’s jawline, trailing her kisses down to her neck.

Y/n felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of going back to Casey’s place, nodding her head a bit too eagerly. “Sounds perfect.” She then pulled Casey’s hair and made her look into her eyes, smirking as her fingertip traced her jawline and down to her neck. “I definitely want to take my revenge on all the marks you left on my neck.”

“Thank god winter is here. Turtlenecks won’t be such a pain in the ass.” Casey laughed softly along with y/n before she took her hand and pulled her with her out of the bathroom.

As soon as the squad noticed the girls walking back to them hand in hand, they started cheering and clapping, Munch looking at his watch and then back to the girls. “Record time, less than 15 min. I’ve heard the record is 20.” He teased as he laughed with Fin.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she grinned and grabbed her purse. “You guys are the worse.”

“Oh, but it worked, didn’t it?” Olivia smirked.

Y/n stared at her for a moment, now understanding why she had been so pushy about her wearing a skirt and sitting beside Casey. She could only shook her head and smile. “Thank you I guess.”

Casey nodded as she smirked. “Indeed, thank you. We’re gonna leave, though. Thanks for the drinks, and next round is on me.” She said as she left some money on the table and grabbed y/n’s hand again, pulling her to the exit.

“Your neck looks so pretty by the way, y/n!” Melinda yelled as she laughed with the rest.

“They’re really not gonna leave us alone.” Y/n said once they left the bar, standing outside and looking into Casey’s eyes as they stopped to wait for a taxi.

Casey chuckled softly as she put a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. “Let them talk. At least everyone will know that you’re mine.”

Y/n smirked as she leaned in and kissed Casey again, squeezing her hand. “It was definitely not a bad idea to wear this.” She whispered softly, chuckling with Casey.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, happy new year! Love your Elijah fics. Maybe you could do one where he turns off his humanity and the reader gets him to turn it back on again. :)

Cold Truth

{Masterlist}

You and Klaus are on a mission to turn Elijah's humanity switch back on. The only problem is that you are the reason he turned it off in the first place.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 - this one hurt! ♡♡~

4.3k words - Warnings: no smut, but so much angst, dramatic as fuck, violence, kidnapping, Klaus being Klaus, slightly spicy right at the end.

The air was thick with tension as you struggled in your restraints, glancing at Klaus as he drove down an empty street. He was humming to himself, looking very relaxed despite the fact that he was holding you hostage.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me," you muttered, tugging on the cuffs that were binding your hands together. "We broke up, it's not a big deal," you added.

"Well, it seems to be a big deal to him," Klaus said, shooting you a knowing smirk. "And it's been affecting my life, so now it's a big deal to me."

You sighed and stared out the window, watching the scenery blur as you moved through the town. You didn't want to tell Klaus the details of your break up with Elijah, it was all too painful. But here you were, getting kidnapped by him, on your way to see Elijah, probably about to get murdered by the man you still loved. Great. 

"It won't work you know," you said, staring blankly out the windshield, feeling that little bit of hope in your chest die out. 

"I get that he doesn't have emotions anymore," you continued, "so he definitely doesn't care about you. Whatever little plan you have going, won't work." You sounded desperate to even your own ears, and you hated it, but at least Elijah's lack of feelings gave you an excuse not to be a complete mess when you were in his presence again. He wouldn't care, he was devoid of compassion and guilt. The thought filled your heart with an emptiness that spread to the rest of your body. You let the feeling encompass you, numbing yourself against the pain, because once this ordeal was over, you would be forced to finally accept that Elijah was really, truly, lost forever.

Klaus laughed and turned, shooting you a smirk. "I've done my fair share of terrible things," he began.

"But," he sighed and stopped laughing, "even I can see what a complete shit show this is. You broke up with him a week ago, and he flipped the switch immediately. This whole thing has been dramatic, even for my tastes."

"Oh please," you sneered, turning to glare at him. "You live for drama," you said, rolling your eyes.

Klaus snickered, shaking his head as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Yes, well, as fun as this has been, there's only so much of it I can take."

You huffed and sighed, slumping in your seat as the light turned green. You turned away from him and tried not to let your anxiety show.

"Look," Klaus began, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm going to be straight with you, love. Your break up with Elijah has been, inconvenient, to put it simply. He no longer cares about my well-being or the things I do. All he wants to do is feed, kill, drink and maim. I thought I would enjoy this side of him, but it turns out, the guy's a bloody asshole. And since you might have the ability to bring him out of this mess, it's in my best interest to try and help you."

You turned your head slowly, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "You sure do have a way of showing it. Kidnapping is pretty terrible Klaus. Do you have any idea how scared I am right now? Not only have you kidnapped me, you are forcing me to confront my ex-boyfriend after I dumped him."

"I've done plenty to upset Elijah, but he's never flipped the switch over it. What exactly did you do to him?" Klaus demanded. He leaned closer to you, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he parked the car. "I'd suggest you start talking, sweetheart," he drawled, giving you a pointed look.

You bit your lip nervously, breaking under his intense gaze. Your shoulders dropped in defeat and you looked at your lap, chewing the inside of your cheek. You told him the truth, finally letting someone in on the secret you had kept from everyone.

"I told him that I didn't love him anymore, okay? I don't know," you trailed off, tears threatening to escape your eyes. "Look, I just, I needed to tell him something and that seemed easier than telling him the truth."

"So what's the truth?" Klaus asked gently. You couldn't bear to look him in the eye, so you stayed still and stayed quiet, trying to ignore the sound of blood rushing in your ears as you fought the urge to cry. After a few seconds, Klaus said your name softly, and when you looked up at him, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes.

You swallowed, trying to get ahold of yourself before you fell apart completely. "I want children, Klaus," you admitted. "And he can't give them to me. But it's okay, we broke up, and I'm fine." You were most definitely not fine, but that was beside the point. You finally confessed the truth, and felt a small bit of relief.

"Oh," he said. "Do you not want to adopt? Wouldn't surrogacy be an option? I can make a phone call and have a baby delivered to your door by tomorrow," he offered. You laughed, appreciating his attempts to make you feel better.

"No, Klaus. I'm sorry. I appreciate you trying, really I do," you said, giving him a sincere smile. "I want to have his child, and that is... well... impossible," you sighed.

There was a moment of silence, and you wondered what he was thinking. Klaus could be a lot of things, but you could tell he truly loved his siblings, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. His devotion was almost as intense as Elijah's and fear bubbled up in your stomach, knowing you were now in the crossfire of his affections for his older brother.

"You aren't still in love with him, are you?" Klaus asked. You felt your insides tremble at the mere mention of Elijah, but it wasn't enough to make your heart skip a beat or your head swirl. All you could feel was sorrow, because you knew how painful it would be to see him again. To be near him, but unable to touch him.

Klaus tilted his head, waiting for your answer. When he didn't get one, he asked again. "Answer the question, love," he said.

"Of course I still love him," you mumbled. "How could I not? I will always love him." You chuckled sadly, shaking your head and shrugging. 

"Good, that will make this easier," Klaus said cheerfully, not sure how to react as he began fiddling with the radio station.

"He's going to kill me Klaus," you said, your voice flat and emotionless. "You're dragging me to him, and he's going to torture me or compel me into doing something bad and then when he's finished, he's going to kill me."

"Yes, possibly," Klaus agreed. "However, you could also bring him back and thus make my life a bit easier."

"We can only hope," you sighed. Klaus started driving towards the docks and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to control the terror building within you.

"Klaus, where are we going?" you asked warily, looking around.

"Well, my dear brother isn't answering his phone, so I'm tracking it instead," he said, gritting his teeth as he continued driving.

"Can we please just leave him alone?" you begged, but he didn't seem to hear you.

"Please," you added. "I'm begging you, Klaus. Don't torture me like this, I'm not strong enough to lose him twice."

"I really don't care how you feel about this, darling," he said, reaching a hand up and patting your head, before returning it to the steering wheel. "But don't worry, I promise I won't let him kill you."

You would have responded, but Klaus took the last turn and parked in front of one of the ships on the docks. He removed the handcuffs, his eyes darting about your surroundings in paranoia as he grabbed your wrists and dragged you out of the car. You didn't put up a fight and let him pull you along, too frightened and confused to even think about struggling. This wasn't what you had been expecting when Klaus took you, and now you didn't know what to say, so you remained silent and obedient. Klaus released his grip and took a step back, heading up the ramp to the ship.

You took a shaky breath and followed him, shivering a bit as you stepped on board. There was music playing, and while the exterior of the boat looked fairly plain, the inside was quite posh and immaculately decorated. You hesitated, glancing at Klaus, but he nodded his head and you followed him into a room. You could sense that Elijah was close. You slowly breathed in and your nose twitched when you caught the strong scent of bourbon.

"I see you have already begun celebrating, brother," Klaus drawled, glancing around the room.

"That depends on how you define celebration," came a quiet response, and you shuddered at the sound of his voice. It was Elijah, your Elijah, his words ringing with a lack of inflection that wasn't entirely evident in his tone. It had a falsely polite, and strangely charming touch, like the cold indifference and arrogance that comes from experiencing and achieving total freedom.

You watched as he poured himself another glass, sitting back in a chair. He stared straight ahead, not meeting your eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips, swirling the alcohol, tipping it slightly, and watching it roll around, before putting it down again, not even having taken a sip. You sniffed, doing your best to control your emotions and expression as you watched him, but your mask was slipping, and you couldn't hide the raw pain in your voice when you spoke.

"Are you okay?" you asked, sounding raspy and hoarse, even to your own ears. Normally, it would have made him feel guilty to hear you like this. Maybe he would have replied in his usual soft, intimate tone, grabbing your chin and kissing your lips gently, holding you close. But your Elijah was dead, and there was nothing left but the monster the switch had transformed him into. You glanced at his face and looked away immediately, the coldness in his dark eyes sinking into your soul. They were beautiful, and deadly, gazing at you in cold assessment, and his expression did not change as he gave you a humorless smile.

"I have never been better," he replied, not moving from his relaxed position on the chair, though you noticed a slight tightening in his jaw when you opened your mouth to speak again. You quickly snapped it shut and watched as he tapped the glass with his finger, gazing around the room and sighing. You didn't know if his admission was a good or a bad thing, but the way he carried himself, all arrogant grace and calculated casualness, had alarm bells ringing in your head, telling you that you were in great danger.

It was worse than you had expected. The man you loved, the one who had treated you with such gentleness and tenderness, the man whose heart was filled with love, loyalty and affection for you, was not present at all.

"We shouldn't have come here," you blurted out, your throat constricting at the sudden fear gripping you. His eyes flicked up to look at you, his brow furrowed as he stared. You cleared your throat, casting a worried glance at Klaus, who was standing by the bar, sipping his own drink and watching the whole scene play out.

"Why? What is the problem?" Elijah asked, and you couldn't tell if he was acting cavalier or genuinely didn't care. "You said you wanted to break up, and I obliged you. So tell me," he said, his dark eyes meeting yours, "why are you here?"

"Because," you began, but quickly lost your train of thought, shaking your head and trying to shake the overwhelming urge to cry. You sucked in a deep breath, tilting your chin up as you spoke. "Because we still have stuff we need to talk about, and we can't when you are like this."

"Like what?" he asked, sounding bored. Your jaw clenched as he casually poured himself more alcohol, draining the contents of his glass quickly and sighing.

"Well," Klaus interrupted, walking over and leaning forward on his knees, "You could start by being a tad less cocky, and try actually listening."

Elijah smirked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Niklaus, I suggest you shut your mouth before I rip your tongue out."

"That would be amusing," Klaus shot back, rolling his eyes. "I'd like to see you try, or have you forgotten I am stronger than you? You can't hurt me."

"Hmm," Elijah hummed thoughtfully, staring intently at his younger brother. "Let's test that."

Before either of you could react, Elijah reached out and grabbed the back of Klaus' head, yanking him forward and bringing his face inches from his own. He glared at him, snarling as Klaus groaned in pain.

"Don't be ridiculous," Klaus growled, his fingers flexing. Klaus easily pried his hands off of him and forced him to release him. He shoved Elijah back into the chair, a vicious smirk on his face as he crossed his arms.

"Eli," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. You moved to touch his arm, but he snatched it out of your reach and pushed it back, baring his fangs at you, his eyes completely black.

"Do not call me that," he responded coldly, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't have brought her," Elijah said to his brother, and you felt the sadness you had been suppressing all day come rushing back full force. You would not be strong enough to get through this.

"Oh don't blame me, dear brother," Klaus retorted, clasping his hands together and glaring at him in frustration. "It's very much her fault that you turned your humanity off, so I brought her here to fix her mistake."

"A mistake I care not to rectify," Elijah said, lifting his chin up haughtily.

"Oh," Klaus scoffed, fixing him with a nasty glare, "I bet you don't."

"Shut up," you mumbled, blinking furiously. Your legs were shaking, your knees about to give out as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Klaus stepped closer to you and you leaned against him, trembling, clinging to his shirt.

"Get a grip," Klaus hissed, glaring down at you in annoyance. He wrapped a hand around your throat and turned you around to face Elijah. His grip tightened, and you gasped in surprise and pain, your eyes wide as they met Elijah's intense gaze. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, something within him stirred at the sight of your fear, but it was buried beneath the ice of his indifference. Elijah narrowed his eyes as he stood up, smoothing down his tie as he approached.

"Niklaus, you are so painfully transparent," he began, an edge of amusement coloring his tone, "I do not care if you hurt her," he added, and his words cut deeper than any physical blow could.

"Eli," you pleaded, a soft whisper of pure agony coming from your lips, "How could you possibly say that? You swore you would always take care of me, protect me." He lowered his eyes, studying your features carefully. He looked down at you, stroking his chin.

"Hmm, you know, now that you say that, I'm feeling a little thirsty," he said, chuckling and stepping closer.

You shut your eyes, stifling a sob and trying to hide the fact that his words had broken your heart, shattering it into pieces. You couldn't bear his mockery, it was almost worse than not having him at all. It made the excruciating pain much more unbearable. Elijah stared at you, leaning closer and brushing a stray hair off of your cheek.

His lips hovered over yours for a split second, causing your lips to part in surprise and confusion, wanting his mouth to capture yours, knowing that the press of his lips was something you would always miss. Even when he was a monster, you felt yourself reacting to him instinctively, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But the kiss did not come, and he pulled away before you could rise to meet him.

"Do you think she knows how many ways she can die?" Elijah asked his brother, and Klaus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I mean, with enough patience and creativity, even the simplest forms of death, can be quite extraordinary," he drawled.

Klaus pulled you back from Elijah, his grip on you tightening, you weren't sure who you feared more in that moment. "Elijah, I made a promise that I would not let you kill her," Klaus said, and Elijah rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing.

"That promise can easily be broken," he said, as if talking about the weather.

"Actually, I thought I would take a page out of your book, find a loophole in the promise I made," Klaus said, his voice taunting as he smiled cruelly. You stopped breathing at his words, your body going rigid, Klaus was going to kill you.

"Elijah?" you whispered desperately, praying that he would protect you from Klaus. You were so cold, and you couldn't move, rooted in place with fear. He turned around abruptly, shrugging his shoulders as he walked across the room to make a new drink.

"You can go ahead and drain her if you so wish. It makes no difference to me," he said.

"Sorry love, I have to call his bluff," Klaus said, patting your head and then running a hand through your hair as his fangs grazed your neck. His voice was dark and malicious. "Say your goodbyes," he smirked.

"Klaus, please," you cried, panic coursing through you, but before he could do anything more, Elijah lunged at him, tearing him away from you. Your back hit the floor hard, your head snapping against the wood, causing you to see stars. You cradled your head, tasting blood in your mouth as you rolled on the floor. Elijah tackled Klaus, growling and snarling viciously, his fingers clenched around his brother's neck as he pinned him to the ground.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her," Elijah warned, but Klaus only smirked, using all his strength to shove Elijah off of him. Elijah's back connected with a pillar, falling to the floor as he clutched his head. He just sat there, head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, taking quick, shuddering breaths, attempting to regain some sort of composure. You crawled your way over to him, too dazed to stand up.

"Eli," you gasped, lifting his face up and forcing him to look at you. He didn't try to pull away, letting you caress his jaw. You slowly stroked his hair, shushing him gently as your fingers trailed over his cheekbones.

"Get away from me," he groaned, grabbing your wrist to keep you from touching him. His mind was reeling from the violent overload of emotions coursing through him. Having you here, so close to him, wanting him, loving him, it overwhelmed him, bringing back every single moment he had spent with you, every beautiful, painful, joyous moment of his entire existence.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you sobbed, reaching out to touch him. He wasn't pushing you away, he was just sitting there, hunched over, breathing heavily. Your mind was too foggy to think about the consequences of your actions. There was an excruciating ache in your chest, and you needed Elijah to hold you.

You threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to the back of his neck, nuzzling him and letting tears stream down your face. He stilled, not fighting you, but not holding you.

"I lied to you Elijah, I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as you hugged him tighter. "I love you, I never stopped. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He didn't move, keeping his expression guarded as he put an arm around you, turning his body slightly to pull you in closer. He tilted his chin down and pressed his lips to the side of your head in a gentle kiss. His eyes were closed, your scent invading his nose, your hair tickling his neck. He sighed, your words, your presence, it was like a spark lighting up a flame of emotions in his chest as the switch in his head turned back on.

"I could never stop loving you," he murmured, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit, keeping you close to him.

"Well, looks like my work is done. Do give her a ride home when you are done, Elijah," Klaus drawled, smirking in triumph as he stood watching you, before swiftly making his way out of the room.

Elijah gripped your chin gently and forced you to turn to face him. You were horrified by the sadness in his dark eyes, but the relief you felt at seeing the love there tore you apart, and you burst into tears, gripping his face and pulling him towards you, kissing his lips, his jaw, his forehead, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

"Darling," he sighed, looking down at your tear stained face. He gently ran his thumb over your cheekbone, bringing your forehead to his as he just held you.

"Forgive me, I-I-was so scared," you managed to get out, but he hushed you, your breathing synchronizing as he hugged you tightly, running a hand through your hair.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, pulling away and stroking your neck, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch.

"I was afraid," you replied, sniffing and wiping your tears. "I didn't want to hurt you, I thought it would be easier to let you go if I pushed you away instead."

"What were you afraid of?" he questioned, guiding your face up, needing to see your beautiful, tear filled eyes.

"I was terrified at the prospect of getting old, growing old, and putting you through that. You'd have to watch as you lived a lifetime with me, and eventually I would be gone and you would be left alone," you gasped out, the words flowing out unbidden, unable to control yourself now that the gates had been opened. "and.. I want children of my own, and a family, I can't have all of that with you. This past week I've been so torn, I thought leaving you was the best thing to do, because I knew my choice would hurt you, and you didn't deserve that, and I didn't know how else to do this."

Elijah smiled sadly, shaking his head and cupping your cheeks. "None of that matters, my darling, and it never will. Don't you understand that? You are worth the heartache, the pain, the loss. You are worth being human for."

He kissed you gently, brushing your hair out of your face, causing more tears to slip down your cheeks as you fisted your hands in his shirt, allowing him to pour all of his love and heartache into the kiss. You were left breathless, staring into his eyes, seeing the sadness there that matched yours.

"As for children, I know a few witches that could help us solve that issue," he said. You blinked rapidly, stunned that his answer was so easy, simple. The corners of his lips quirked up, and you felt your heart thundering in your chest, desperate to have him, keep him forever.

"Do you want that? To have children with me?" you asked, your hands in his, hoping, praying, that he truly understood what he was getting himself into.

"With you, yes, anything you wish for, I will give you," he replied, resting his head on your shoulder, and nuzzling your neck. You drew in a deep breath, so relieved and overcome with a surge of emotions that you grabbed his head and planted another firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that had you smiling despite all the tears you were shedding. Your fingers were clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer to you as you continued to kiss him, memorizing everything, his taste, the curves of his lips, the way his tongue felt against yours. He put his arm around your waist, and shifted, scooping you up into his lap, and into his arms.

"When was the last time we made love?" he whispered against your lips, pulling away and looking into your eyes, his gaze caressing your features softly.

"Three months," you whispered, stroking his stubbled jaw, running your fingers over his lips, marveling at the feel of his warm, soft skin, thinking that you almost never had the chance to be with him again.

"That's much too long," he murmured, sliding his hands up your thighs and grinning seductively. You chuckled, feeling a heated blush creep up your neck and spread across your cheeks. His fingers traced the edge of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I love you, Elijah Mikaelson," you said, grinning broadly as your fingers threaded through his hair, savoring the feel of it. He just sat, staring at you with warmth and adoration, unspoken love shining in his deep brown eyes.

"For eternity, I will love you, my y/n," he whispered, pressing his lips gently against yours, and you melted into him, gripping the back of his neck as you felt a piece of your soul slide back into place, wrapped tightly around his heart.

[steddieas-shegoes]

a goddamn rockstar

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'eddie'

rated t | 912 words | cw: language | tags: side steddie, robin is also here, kinda just feels right to have these 6, new spicy 6 just dropped i guess

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Eddie Munson was born to be a goddamn rockstar.

His mama told him before he could even hold a guitar: "You're gonna show this world what music is, string bean."

His Uncle Wayne told him when he was crying at her grave: "You're gonna sing for her, Ed."

Jeff's dad even looked at him in awe the first time he watched him play and said: "You've got what they look for, Eddie."

His guitar was an extension of him from the moment Wayne gave it to him, never out of sight if he could help it. Wayne would joke that it would melt to his hands in the heat of summer while he sat on the porch strumming through whatever song was on repeat in Eddie's mind.

He could play by ear, a gift that he was lucky to have since they couldn't afford lessons or those books at the record shop that showed actual music. A song would play on the radio or on Wayne's record player, and within two days, Eddie would be playing it like he wrote it himself.

Wayne would watch in awe, watching his fingers glide across the frets like it was as easy as breathing.

When he formed his band, he was clearly the guy who would lead them somewhere. Jeff, Frankie, and Gareth were talented, of course they were. He wouldn't have bothered with them if they weren't.

But they were doing this for fun, because they thought it would be cool to get to play on a stage, maybe have an audience beyond their parents and unwilling siblings and cousins.

Eddie was doing this because this was what his life was going to be. This was his future. His everything.

They practiced twice a week, they played at The Hideout every Tuesday, and then every Thursday when more than a few people bothered to show up. Wayne made sure to switch his days off so he could be there to "babysit", an agreement between the owner and him when he saw how young they were.

They competed in the school talent show, but didn't even place. It was rigged anyway. Only the popular kids ever won it.

They took a day trip to Indy for Gareth's 16th birthday, playing at a pop-up show for local bands. Not quite a Battle of the Bands, but still a fun time.

Nothing came of it except for Jeff finding a girlfriend who would break his heart a month later, but they were glad to have the experience.

It still wasn't enough for Eddie.

But it became irrelevant when hell tried to take him, and then when cops tried to after he barely made it out of that alive.

He owed everything to Nancy Wheeler and Hopper, though.

He'd make sure to dedicate his first album to them.

God, Hopper would hate that. He couldn't wait.

It took him three months to pick up his guitar again. His dexterity wasn't the best anymore, and his biggest worry was that he wouldn't be able to play at the level he'd been at before.

Steve convinced him, though. Shyly asked him if he knew any Blondie, and of course Eddie knew Blondie. So he played Blondie.

Steve kissed him after.

Eddie decided to add Blondie to their shows and Steve to the front row.

As soon as Gareth graduated, they went to Chicago, looking for opportunity.

All of them wanted it, but Eddie needed it.

Steve came with them, and so did Robin. Frankie tried to make a move on Robin, got told to lose his dick, and then they became good friends. They all shared a rented house in the suburbs, rundown and needing more work than any of them could possibly give it, but it was a roof over their heads.

They didn't get many gigs, and the ones they did were for free or barely enough to cover the cost of gas to get to them.

But they didn't stop trying.

The one thing that everyone always commented on was how Eddie was made for the stage.

Corroded Coffin got lucky. That's what anyone in the business would say.

They happened to be filling in for a band last minute at a festival. It wasn't even supposed to be metal music. But they toned down their sound for their set, focusing on rock hits that all of them enjoyed.

They put on a hell of a show.

And someone was watching, someone who could make something happen for them.

Within a month, they were recording a demo of their real sound for a label, including two original songs and two covers. Two months later, they were signing a contract that didn't completely suck and booking studio time.

It was almost too much at once. After wanting it for so long, Eddie thought maybe he wasn't actually supposed to be doing this.

It was long nights, longer days, and arguments he never thought he'd have with his closest friends and boyfriend. It was finding balance between his music and his family. It was not knowing if all of this would even pay off for them, for him.

But their album did better than even the label could have expected, better than any of them had dared hope. They were planning a tour. They had t-shirts that Eddie didn't have to make himself.

He had Steve with a VIP badge backstage every night.

Eddie Munson was a goddamn rockstar.