#i sincerely apologize for i hopelessly run at the mouth

[invinciblerodent]

1) Will your OC get married and with who? 2) Will they have any children? What are their names?

OC Ask Game!

I think I’m gonna go on for a long (long, long, LONG) time about Iona, and mention the others kind of as a footnote, because I think Iona’s answers to these are just… the ones that are most interesting to me, lol

(fair warning looking back, this got PROFOUNDLY away from me- the TL; DR of it is that for Iona marriage is "yes, eventually" and kids are "no, never", for Arvid marriage is a "yes, of course, sure" and kids are "well if you want it", and for Petyr both are "hah! no. nope. no.")

So, this whole “what now” issue in Iona’s case, it’s… all a bit muddled.

As a little background to it, in 3e, it’s said that courtships between elves often take a very long time, sometimes decades, before a commitment is reached- which is understandable, especially considering that elves are also said to seldom fall out of love with one another, and don’t typically remarry after the death of one spouse. A commitment that’s meant to span a lifetime of centuries (whether the life of one has a natural endpoint or not is irrelevant), it makes sense that they’d take it seriously, and not jump into soul-bonds willy-nilly. (An albatross is definitely going onto her moodboard now, lol.)

I think both Iona and Astarion would still be kind of... feeling themselves out, by the end of the game, and neither of them would be drawn to the thought of “blissful mutual domesticity” just yet.

I mean, on top of being a quite young elf, she’s spent a good 80% of her life among humans: her experience with life is colored by the perceptions of a people who are constantly trying to outrun the rushing of a clock that might as well be standing still for her. So exploring what time even means to her, that’d be a very exciting prospect. While Astarion, he was even younger than she is now when he had the “elven” part of his identity taken away from him, only to be made into someone that’s seen as a tool first, monster second, and person a distant third. He’s eager to re-learn personhood and live again, so they’re both sort of… (re-?)discovering themselves and their “feyness” together, and in each other. 

My little idea is that after the Brain’s defeat, they’re going to spend one or two decades on solo adventuring: primarily looking for a way to allow him to walk in the sun again, but that… proves itself to be something of a wild goose chase. The travel itself is annoyingly cumbersome (either they have to shelter during the day and cover no ground, or he has to be polymorphed and be both unable to communicate and practically defenseless [can’t risk fighting, if his form is dismissed he’s dead]). But also, there are just… too many disappointments. Too many dead ends. Too many times they’ve gotten too close only to find out that they were either late, or misled, or just plain wrong about something.

I think he’d grow frustrated with it first, and grow reckless: strain against his limits, start pushing his luck with the Sun, start making dangerous mistakes, and it’d be her who’d start gently encouraging (cajoling, bargaining, eventually pleading with-) him that maybe they should return to the Gate. To regroup, try to find other avenues, head off in a different direction. And while he'd know she's right, agreeing… it'd still feel like he’s admitting defeat.

Of course, he’d try to put on an unbothered face, but she would still obviously be able to tell that he’s upset: primarily with himself, but also a little bit with… everything. Of feeling both free and trapped, both bursting with the desire to DO something, but also being… powerless.

Which (stay with me, we're a third of the way!) is the context in which the thought of kids and “marital bliss” would rear its ugly head.

Because I headcanon that vampire spawn are naturally sterile. (I know full vampires can sire mortal offspring, but since spawn can’t create new vampires via bite and the bite is almost always a penetration-allegory, I like to think that translates to them being just… unable to reproduce, period.) And elves in general already have far lower fertility rates, so even if he wasn’t sterile because of the vampirism but just maybe less fertile than usual, the chances of conception between the two of them would still be infinitesimally small.

And I mean, the topic really wouldn’t come up naturally, so I think Astarion would likely think that she’d eventually want children. I mean, he knows very well that she had been previously married to a human- humans usually want kids, so it’d be a natural assumption that she’d be on the same page as her ex-husband, and the fact that she doesn’t have kids now wouldn't be for a lack of wanting. (It is. It is for a lack of wanting. But both of them being ~excellent~ [pejorative] at communicating, he definitely wouldn’t ask- if only for fear of the answer he thinks he'd get.)

So it'd kind of… eat at him, for a while, the thought that at some point, she might grow to resent him. There'd be a small, niggling part of his mind that'd worry that at some point, the limitations would all prove too much, and she’d grow frustrated, tired of always having to work with and around his… shall we say, conditions. Beyond his partial reliance on her pain and literal body for sustenance, the physical differences between them, and the messiness of healing (the times he startles awake screaming, the times he can’t bear even the thought of being touched, the times he’s frustrated with himself and takes it out on her), this is just one more thing.

He can’t take her out for a nice day in the city. He can’t warm her body at night, wine and dine her (or just share a meal like a regular person), or love her as brazenly as he did starting out, out on the street for all to see because… well, he can’t go out into the streets. Can’t even travel with her during the day, not without taking the shape of a stupid animal that can’t communicate with her, joke with her, or even delight her with the looks he had thought for so long were the only thing he was good for.

Though secure in her love of him, he’s not stupid, or an idealist who’d think that love alone is enough for a happily ever after. While enjoying the time while it lasts, naturally there’d be sort of a running tally in his head of all the ways their lives chafe against one another.

Watching her face grow paler and paler as she’s deprived of the sun and has her blood drained, he’d never quite stop wondering at what point is the scale going to tip, at what point she’d finally realize that she had bet on the wrong undead horse by choosing to love the vampire who asks her to sacrifice so much, and not only doesn’t want to, but isn’t even able to give her what (he thinks) she wants.

Which, she doesn’t want it, of course. She has not even one maternal bone in her body.

Iona is well aware that she would make a terrible mother, and she absolutely does not want to be one. So it wouldn’t even occur to her that this would be something on his mind on top of all else. When he’d be having his little personal crisis about this, she’d be busy trying to make the impossible happen and circumventing the need to find a way to give him back the Sun by inventing one herself. That’d be why she'd lock herself into her study alone for longer and longer periods of time, why she sometimes wouldn’t come out for days, why she'd sometimes steer the conversation away from certain things- she wouldn’t want to give him false hope in a project that’d quickly prove so far beyond her abilities.

But, she'd still obviously recognize his occasional bouts of melancholy- I mean, it’s very unusual for someone to look at another so fondly and happily one moment, and then get quiet and forlorn the next. That distance she'd see behind his eyes sometimes when she'd tell him she loves him, that’d be rather worrying to anyone.

It’ll take a while for this particular cat to work its way out of the bag, but it would happen eventually, of course.

In reality, none of that would bother her.

She delights in being the sole person deciding what, when, and how she wants to eat. She loves the coolness of his touch- it soothes the heat of the draconic blood running through her veins better than any balm. Sure, going to markets and doing all that domestic pish can be fun, but... well, she’s always been an indoorsy person. Being bitten is no burden (she wouldn’t offer if it was), and there being no risk of a pregnancy, even after the tadpole’s death? At the risk of sounding crass, that’s an incredible perk, with no downsides. Feeling him find his pleasure while buried deep inside her, with no pang of fear or worry? It’s absurd how perfect that is, how happy she is with the fact that with the man she loves, that fear of being impregnated against her will can be put completely to rest.

And the rest, the messiness, the less “pretty” parts of it all, the evenings spent soothing his pain that’s either real or real only to him, that’s… just what happens if you love someone. Sure, she worries of course, but even when it’s inconvenient, when it’s ugly, when the old scars feel like they’re on fire and she can’t even being to think of a way to help… she still loves him just the same.

So no, no children necessary. It’s not in the cards for them, and even if it was, I don’t think either of them would really want it, or be good at it.

... She’d probably like to overwrite the memories of her first marriage (and speak the word “husband” without rancor) though, but only eventually.

And I like to think that that’ll have to happen with an item I’m tentatively calling “Taran Tal’hondnor” (The Gift of True Love), and it’s an enchanted ring that she will finally be able to create after many years of study, and even more miserably failed attempts at creating an enchantment that’ll let a vampire walk in the sun.

I like to imagine her proposing to him, on her own terms this time, with one such gift.

Because she loves him to the point of invention.

Quickly on the others, Arvid… might like fatherhood, if he were so inclined. He’s a very caring, kind, nurturing person, and if he were to be in that position, he would probably be a very good dad. He’s generally in a nurturing role already, and Gale being in a teaching role, they could prove to be excellent parents, if that were what they wanted.

But they… probably wouldn’t want that. Gale being the age that he is (“canon” says 35, I see ~38-40, minor difference) and a human, yet saying that he’s “not ready”, I personally interpret that as a rather telling thing. His past of having spent such a long time in a "monogamous" (I'm fairly sure that part's one-sided, no time to go into that now) relationship with a goddess who had no intention of having kids with him, and his present willingness to be with an illithid who can’t, that to me is implying that it’s not something that’d be that important to him. Like I personally see that as him not actively preferring to have kids if it’s up to him (he likes peace, and quiet, and downtime, and a nice glass of wine with a quietly romantic evening meal- very much the quintessential childless millennial, 100% part of the appeal to me lol), but he’d be happily willing to do it if his partner wanted it themselves.

But in my world, his husband (I like how I skated by the first part of the question, I mean they already ARE married lol)… doesn’t really have such strong feelings about it either. So, since two "maybes" don’t make a "yes" (and for this kind of thing, you need two enthusiastic "yes"-es for it to no longer be a no), it’s a "no".

But I think their marriage is going to be very happy and fulfilling to both of them nevertheless. <3

And since I don't yet have any kissy-shots of them (☹️), have an "are you seeing this shit" silent exchange for these two <3

Honestly? I would sooner give a baby to a pack of feral wolves and hope for the best than have Petyr become a father. He'd absolutely be the kind of dad whose kids become DnD characters. He's someone's tragically emotionally distant boomer dad just waiting to happen. (I mean, come on. My guy felt inadequate once, and coped with it by fucking off to the woods for 20 years? Yeah, sure, father of the year.)

And Shadowheart, she basically didn't have parents growing up, she has a TON of cult indoctrination to process and unlearn as an adult, and -let's be real- likely has no fucking clue how motherhood would even really work. Like the woman whom she used to call "mother" pretty much straight-up tortured her. C'mon now.

I like to think that, though they are the only two in my lineup who are physically able to have kids by accident, they (with their 8 and 10 INT scores respectively) would still be smart enough to smell that particular disaster before they'd barrel into it head first, and either actively decide not to have kids, or put it off so far into the future as for it to be meaningless. Maybe the discussion can be tabled in a few decades' time, but since by then their home will be surrounded by, god, so many animals to take care of (including a barely not feral, adult owlbear) (and their mutual boyfriend who sometimes shows up for like a month to fuck nasty on every available surface of the house and surrounding wilds), I doubt it'll result in a resounding "yes".

In the same vein of things, if a big, beautiful, traditional wedding is something that she wants (which I... kinda doubt would be super important to her), she definitely bet on the wrong horse, because this guy is not one for pomp and circumstance.

I like to imagine that after their departure from the Gate (and their bidding of not exactly "farewell", but "see you later" to Halsin), he'll just... take her "home" to his little shack in his corner of the forest, and then, sitting under the canopy of his favorite woods, enjoying the balmy evening breeze and the undisturbed night sky with his favorite person, he'll look up at the moon, take her hand, and silently, in his head, give his thanks to the Moonmaiden for this peace.

And... that'll be it. From that point forward, it'll be easy to fall into a kind of sweet, quiet domesticity that is essentially a marriage in all but name.

I definitely like- and relate to the idea of them foregoing the "2.5 kids, white picket fence" idea of a happily ever after not out of a conscious rejection, but rather just by... being themselves. Together.

[ifmywishescametrue]

omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3

thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!

Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.

At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.

Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.

He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.

His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”

Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.

Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.

“Guess I just really like what I see,” Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”

Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.

“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.

“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.

Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”

It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.

“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.

He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.

“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”

It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.

“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”

Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”

“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”

Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”

“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”

“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”

“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”

“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”

“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”

Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.

“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”

“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”

“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”

“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”

Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”

Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”

“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”

“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”

“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”

Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.

“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”

“When, huh?” Steve grins.

Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”

Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 7

AO3

Prev

Marinette Dupain Cheng didn’t have a normal life. On the contrary, some would call her life Miraculous. Well, one would. And she would whack him every time. As much as she loved her brother (in all but blood) Adrien, she couldn’t stand his puns most of the time. After he first lost his arm a year ago at the final battle against Hawkmoth, she let him get away with a lot of puns and awful jokes. Because she blamed herself for his injury. She should’ve been able to fix him. But she wasn’t. She still blamed herself some days, but she no longer laughed at every single one of his puns. He knew she hated them, and it was better for her mental health to let him know how awful they were. She’s stirred from her thoughts by Adrien nudging her, obviously trying to get her attention.

“Where are we going for our spring break trip? You helped Mme. Bustier plan that, right?” Adrien asks. She frowns, not sure what brought that topic up.

“We’re going to spend a week in New York and then a week in London. Why?” She asks, confused at his worried expression.

“Okay well, maybe you should tell Mme. Bustier that. Because she just said that we’re spending two weeks in New Jersey.” Adrien says with a grimace.

“WHAT!?” She yells, jumping out of her seat.

“Marinette! I was trying to go over the details of the trip. I’m very disappointed in you. You know better than to interrupt like that.” Mme. Bustier says, shaking her head with a small frown. Marinette’s face turns red and she drops back into her seat, muttering an apology.

“What do you mean we’re going to New Jersey? What’s even in New Jersey?” She asks Adrien in a hushed whisper, conscious of the glares from Lila at the front of the room but determined to ignore them any way she can.

“Gotham, apparently. And the Wayne family. According to Lila, she can get us in for a tour at Wayne Enterprises and Gotham Academy and every other thing the Waynes do. Because she’s dating Damian Wayne, didn’t you know?” Adrien explains, lip quirking in amusement. Marinette groans, dropping her head onto their table.

“Do you realize now I’m going to have to arrange at least part of that? Or we won’t have anything to do and we’ll be stuck in some random city for two whole weeks.” Marinette says, a headache already forming.

“Or, or, hear me out. You could just let her fail. And the trip will flop and everyone will see that she’s awful.” Adrien says. It was a much different response than what he would’ve had a year ago. But the defeat of Hawkmoth and the revelation that his father was a supervillain was enough to alter Adrien’s world view. He wasn’t hopelessly optimistic anymore. He was more cynical. He was still insanely kind, but he didn’t give out his kindness to people who didn’t deserve it. Like the lying bitch in their class.

“I don’t wanna be stuck in a hotel with her for two weeks.” Marinette points out with a grimace. “Wait a minute, why does Gotham sound familiar?”

“Probably from when you were friends with Alya. Batman and his whole team is from Gotham.” He says, slumping down in his seat so that he can continue to whisper to her.

“Oh goody. Crime capital of the US and Lila decides to lie her way into the city. But it wasn’t enough for just her to be targeted. Oh no, she had to get our entire class involved. Yippee.” Marinette snarks, shoving her face back into her folded arms on the desk. It was too much for this early. Time for a nap.

---

After submitting a five thousand word essay on how beneficial a tour of Wayne Enterprises would be and an additional three thousand word essay to Gotham Academy on the benefits of having an exchange class for a week, Marinette was pleased to say that their trip to Gotham wouldn’t be completely boring.

In fact, it would be similar enough to what Lila had lied that hopefully, she wouldn’t be blamed for messing anything up. Sure, they wouldn’t have personal tours from the Wayne family or an invitation to the Spring Gala that the Waynes were hosting, but at least they’d have something to do in Crime City. Hopefully with the amount of security at both Gotham Academy and WE, they wouldn’t run into too many villains. After three years under Hawkmoth, she never wanted to deal with a villain again. Unless she could punch him or her in the face. Then yeah, she’d happily meet a villain. But seeing as it’s highly frowned upon to piss off a Gotham villain like that, she’d prefer to just not see one at all. Would certainly make things easier.

Marinette huffs, glaring at the mess of clothes falling out of her suitcase. She’d started packing two days ago, and then yesterday discovered that she packed the outfit she wanted to wear on the plane. So then she had to take everything out, but then she couldn’t find the outfit and after throwing everything around she found the outfit. Still in her dresser. And now she had a huge mess falling out of her suitcase and not enough time left to pack neatly. Not if she wanted to get any sleep.

“Hey Adrien, can you give me a hand?” She asks, beginning to fold the mess of clothes back up. He’s silent for a minute, and then she hears a click. She sighs and looks up just in time to catch the arm he threw at her.

“There you go!” He says cheekily, a wide grin on his face as he hangs upside down from her bed. She narrows her eyes.

“You know what I meant, you absolute menace.” She deadpans. He snorts before dropping down, landing gracefully and catching the arm she throws back at him.

“You know you love me, Bug.” He says, helping her fold her clothes.

“Unfortunately.” She says with a dramatic sigh. “You hear from Jay yet this week?”

“Yeah. Told me, and I quote ‘stop annoying Pixie Pop with your lameass jokes kid. I can’t protect you from her fury from across the ocean’.” He says with a laugh.

“At least he knows I’d best you in a fight.” She says with a hum. Adrien sputters, an offended look on his face as he slams her last shirt into her suitcase.

“That is not what that meant!” He argues with a pout.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kitty.” She says, zipping the suitcase shut and trying hard to ignore the bad feeling settling deep into her stomach. Something was going to happen in Gotham, and she wasn’t sure if it would be good or bad.

---

Of course the class would leave them on their first full day in Gotham. It made sense. They’d hated Mari before Hawkmoth’s reveal. And after Hawkmoth’s reveal, they were hesitant around Adrien. Even with the whole ‘my dad cut off my arm’ thing. So honestly, leaving the two of them stranded at the hotel was just par for the course.

“At least we’re together.” Marinette says bitterly, thinking of the fact that the class would be getting to tour Wayne Enterprises. A place that she had worked hard to allow them to tour.

“Come on Mari, look on the bright side.” Adrien says, grabbing her hand and tugging her along.

“What bright side? We were left behind, in Gotham, of all places. What could possibly be good about this situation?” She asks, slightly dragging her feet as he tugged her along behind him.

“Mmmm, the fact that Wayne Enterprises is only a block away.” He says with a grin. She straightens immediately, actually keeping up with his pace now instead of allowing herself to be dragged behind him.

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” She asks, shaking her head in faux disappointment. He shrugs.

“I like a little chaos.” He says. Marinette opens her mouth to snark back at him, but is instead silenced by the building in front of her. Wayne Enterprises was slightly intimidating, but she was still amazed by its design. It was modern and sleek and her hand twitched towards the sketchbook in her purse. She could just imagine skirts with the same sleek shapes and dark colors, suits whose build was used to make the wearer look taller. Just as she’s about to pull out her sketchbook, she sees a familiar head of hair walking into the building. Dark hair with a white streak. But-

“Was that Jason?” She asks, suddenly far more interested in the man who just walked in. Adrien’s gaze snaps to where hers is, frowning at the closed door.

“I don’t know, but let’s go see.” He says, and this time, she’s the one tugging him. Their class completely forgotten. Until they walk through the doors and hear the incessant chatter and noise that comes with being around Lila Rossi. But not enough that is enough to deter the two from their goal. Especially when the man they’d followed turns around, a familiar face set into a scowl.

“Jay!” Marinette calls, waving at him. The man’s scowl instantly drops into a wide smile and he rushes past the class, sweeping the two up into a huge hug.

“Pixie! Kid! What are you two doing here?” He asks, holding them close.

“Jay-Jay, can’t breathe.” Mari says, letting out a puff of air as he sets them down gently.

“Hey Jay!” Adrien says, a wide smile on his face, one of the most sincere smiles Mari had seen in a while. She felt her own face fall into an easy smile. After a year apart, they were together again.

“Uh. Jason? Job, remember?” A voice asks, pulling the three out of their reunion. Jason looks at the man and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Dick, thanks. I’d completely forgotten why I came all the way here.” He snarks, no venom in his tone.

“Did you just-” Marinette starts to ask, uncertain if he was calling the man a name or?

“Shit, I forget that even though you speak it just fine, English isn’t your first language. His name is Richard, but ‘Dick’ is a nickname for Richard. It’s what he usually goes by.” Jason explains, snorting at the look on her face. She huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Well excuse me, Mr. To be fair, you calling someone that wouldn’t be out of the question. You have shitty language a lot of the time.” She teases with a smirk.

“That’s it. You’re disowned. I no longer claim you as my little sister.” He says, turning around dramatically and walking away. Marinette’s jaw drops at him. She looks at Adrien who just smirks, and then at Dick who just looks confused with the entire situation.

“What the hell was that? I thought I was the dramatic one.” She pouts.

“Looks like you’ve lost your touch Bug.” Adrien says, crossing his arms. Her eyes narrow.

“Is that a challenge?” She asks. He shrugs.

“Do with it what you will. Just don’t get him in trouble, I think he actually works here.” He says, glancing around the packed lobby. Marinette looks around and sighs. She didn’t want to make a scene with the class, and she definitely didn’t want Jason to get in trouble.

“I’ll get him later.” She mumbles, falling into place on Adrien’s right side naturally. The two walk in sync to the rest of the class, oblivious to the bewildered look given to them by Dick Grayson.

Next

Master list

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat

[ohheyitsokay]

strike

part 3 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2k

warnings: extremely mild mentions of sex, unwanted advances that don’t get far (not by Frankie)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball au - trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, we learn that a ‘strike’ is when a batter misses the ball when he swings, even though he shouldn’t have. And some strikes don’t just happen during baseball.

>>

“Jimbo, I'm here!” You called as you kicked the door closed behind you, arms heavy with grocery bags. Your grandfather would be in the living room, no doubt impatiently waiting for you to unload so you could watch the baseball game together. It was a few states away, which meant the two of you could enjoy evening on the couch with affordable snacks and air conditioning. Games in person were more exciting, but climbing all those stairs wasn’t great for his knees, and it was nice to chat with him without the roar of the crowds.

There was a faint squeak to his favorite rocker, and you unloaded half the bags onto the coffee table – his favorite treats – before tossing the rest haphazardly into their places in his little kitchen. You raced the commercials, listening to the final advertisements with one ear as you hurried to get yourself settled, even though he was always happy to chat with you during the game. For these times with him, you hated to miss even a moment. The chair to the left of his was yours, newer and softer and it would have been the perfect evening, eating and catching up with your favorite man.

Except this was the first real opportunity for him to grill you about your unexpected lunch with his heroes. 

There had been laughter in his voice when you had tried to call him afterwards, and he had told you he would wait to hear the story. To him, even over the phone you couldn’t hide how flustered you were, just moments after Francesco’s eyes had been in yours. All things considered, he had been more than patient, so as you fidgeted and you kept your eyes on the screen, you told him what had happened as casually as you could.

It was the top of the first inning – the very beginning of the game, and his boys were mostly crowded into the dugout. Their fingers were grabbing fistfuls of sunflower seeds or pulling on batting gloves or hanging on the wire, watching as Will walked up to bat. There was a fun country song playing, and it was surreal, thinking it had just been a few days since he had tossed a chunk of fried food into the air and his brother had caught it in his mouth. James thoroughly enjoyed you story, laughing and for once not lecturing you about leaving them alone to live their lives. He seemed approving, proud of you for taking a change, and proud that the boys from his favorite team did his favorite granddaughter well. You answered this questions and indulged his excitement over the little things, trying not to reveal too much of your own daydream fodder. Thinking of Francisco’s eyes as he laughed at the Miller boys, you grabbed a pillow to give your hands something to hold onto, to ground yourself.

The camera panned over to Tom adjusting his cap and without thinking you winced. When you realized that James had caught the movement, you winced again.

You had to explain, then, the biggest detail that you had glossed over – the only one that would disappoint your grandfather. The outfielder had looked at you with confidence and hunger in his eyes. His fingers on your hand left cool, invisible lines, slimy like residue of the stadium cup holders.

James listened with sad eyes, before he was reaching over, gently squeezing your hand, and asking about Will’s family in town to find out if he knew a relative. It was kindness - changing the topic, rewarming the memory as he coaxed out more details of their interactions with you and each other, making you blush and laugh and smile.

The discomfort that had been lodged in your heart regarding the athlete  lessened as you remembered that they were all human. It had been clear the other players respected him, maybe even looked up to him, and that had to be good for something. Even though it had just been a lunch, a single moment in time, the assessments of a group of open hearted baseball players already held weight on your opinion.

As you began to tell James about a joke Santiagio had told, you noticed that Tom’s turn had come and gone, and he had struck out.

-

Every professional sports group had a second team, full of people who pushed papers and cleaned locker rooms and handled press conferences. One of these people was a woman who was in charge of sorting through and organizing special fan appearances.

Flipping through applications and mail, she would have hardly noticed the broad shoulders and hazel eyes of the man who entered, had he not kissed her breathless the night before.

For all they were on and off and she knew he was a player in all senses of the word, she couldn’t help but stand, and let his hands find her hips as he pressed into her.

“Hi, Tom,” she whispered, already dazed and adoring as his beard scraped at her neck, warm and insistent.

“Hey, babe,” he returned, absentmindedly, squeezing her hips before pulling away. There was something about his eyes, the way he held his head, like his shoulders were comfortable bearing the weight of others, like he’d prefer it that way, that made him seem like a natural born leader.

She knew him better. He had the crowds and the rookies and the managers and even his brothers on the team wrapped around his fingers - the perfect mentorship allusion, but she knew. There was another side to him, a darker side, filled to the brim with pride and arrogance and power. Of all the men who flashed smiles as they shook hands and carried kids on their shoulders for photos – he was the one who preened the most. There was a hunger in his eyes, even greater than when he’d love her, when a chance came for him to do an extra interview, put some senior input in, or take a newbie to his first after party.

Still, she loved him. Too much, maybe, but her mind whispered not enough, and she hungrily took what ever he would give her. There were always flowers and jewelry and coveted high-status sex in his apologies, anyway, and she knew he’d always come back to her, eventually. She knew better than to guess.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, star stuck in spite of it all, but knowing there must be something. His “cousin” had stocks in the team, or a certain string needed to be pulled. There was always something. 

When he asked for the number of a girl from a few weeks ago, there was an all-too-familiar twist in her gut.

“Tom, you know that information is confidential,” she whined, masking her fear, turning back towards her desk. It was infuriating how disarming, intoxicating, and how solid he felt behind her, how smooth his words felt on the shell of her ear.

“It’s for Benny, babe, he’s got it bad for her,” it was a lie, but she didn’t know it, and the knot in her stomach loosened a little. His hand slipped under her blouse and it came undone, submitting entirely to the façade.

“Let me help the little guy out.” For all his charisma, she wanted desperately to believe he was sincere, so she did. Her hands started steady as she opened a thick binder and began flipping through the glossy dividers. She moved as slow as she could, hopelessly savoring his touch, knowing when it was gone, the unpleasant feelings would be just as strong.

But it didn’t take long to find you number and hand it over, and exchange more heated kisses and half promises before he slipped out.

The woman settled in her chair again, fingers tracing the letters of your name, the knot reforming below her breastbone. She reached for her phone, telling herself it was a courtesy, to give you a heads up.

-

When a player was about to steal second base, you always wondered if Santiago Garcia could tell, without even looking. If he could feel it in his bones, or if the hairs on the back his neck rose, against his sweat.

If he could, that was exactly how you would feel now, walking into the bar to see only Tom Davis waiting for you. The building was dim, strategically chosen by Will, allegedly, so they could drink in peace. As before however, there was no hiding the silhouette of a man like him, not when he was oozing confidence like sap from a tree.  

When he had called you, it had been so shocking you had agreed without thinking. It was surreal, but like following a trail of candy through a forest, not at all like the knights in shining armor of before.

He swung his arm around, cocky smile across his face, and you shook his hand.

There could not have been a more awkward boundary made, but he laughed it off as you considered turning tail and running. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help how guarded you felt alone with him, so you turned to the polished woof of the bar and ordered a lemonade. It would buy you time, anyway, to reassess. 

You had always thought of baseball players as beer guys, but he had a short glass of something gold and expensive, as if he were trying to prove a point. Slipping onto the stool next to him, you set your bag in between you like a wall. He was broad and he pulled close, making you almost press against his side, giving you the opportunity to realize his skin almost cold. Slow sips reminded you that there was no basis for your feelings, and you were the one being strange. 

It wasn’t bad, talking to him. You chided yourself internally, thinking you made unfair assumptions. Really, he was a nice guy. He talked highly of his friends, even defending their lateness, taking the blame for the mix-up. It felt like one of those interviews your grandfather would watch sometimes, the way he could go on about himself and somehow tell you nothing at all. Fighting your instincts to give short, guarded answers, you found yourself sharing about your life more than you expected. Not a lot, but not nothing either.

It was awkward and nice, not unlike a first date and when his large hand covered yours, it didn’t feel half as slimy as before.

A spider’s web was feather-light, so subtle it was almost impossible to feel until it was too late.

His eyes were sharp and deep and certain as he shifted closer, and you felt dazed, despite all the alcohol you hadn’t consumed.

When he leaned in, though, a thought struck you. With his deep hazel eyes, the perfect beard, and tanned skin, he looked like a prince. Not our prince, though, it was just someone else’s fairytale.

Clarity and your own confidence warmed you like a jacket one rainy day, and you touched Tom’s cheek, holding his face at enough of a distance. You shed the web before it stuck and something flickered in his eyes – doubt, maybe, or something like fear, as you spoke the most prominent thought on your mind. 

“What about Molly?”

-

When he heard you, again speaking words that weren't meant for his ears, warm pride shot through his chest.

That’s my girl.

Of course you weren’t, but it felt like you were.

You turned to him like you knew he was there, hand leaving Tom’s stunned face to wave at the grinning catcher.

Frankie had been at war with himself across the bar as he looked towards the two of you, heart wrenching. He had seen from the far side the room first how close you were to the other man. It was unreasonably terrifying to see that you weren't immune, to see you consider his friend. Then he saw how non responsive you’d become to Redfly, how politely you regarded him as he lathered on the charm. By the time he reached the two of you, he found you fully awake, handling it yourself.

When the woman had called you, her voice had betrayed something. It was formal conversation, just admitting she had shared your contact information, and disclosing that it was Tom, and he’d made it clear you guys were friends. Her tone, however, told you she was territorial and jealous, but also desperate, longing. It felt right to get out of the way – that’s what you and she wanted and you sort of thought that’s actually what he wanted, too. He was moving away from you, still processing, trying to play off the moment, and even more than pity, you felt a touch sad for them.

Still, you were impressed you were able to manage yourself. It was the same confidence that had filled you when you stood up for James, a confidence that came from a feeling that whispered something good was coming, something well worth the boldness.

When you felt a warm presence at your side, you felt even more sure. It felt wonderful, the way Francisco was looking at you. It was too early to read into it, but you were sure you wanted him to look at you like that again - like you were capable of telling mountains to move.

You smiled up at him, relieved, and he couldn’t help but beam back, wanting to hug you. He wasn’t feeling quite brave enough yet, but there was a resolve settling in his heart. There was no way he was going to leave your side tonight. 

The other guys came quickly. Each of them was excited to see you again, and you pretended not to notice them shooting confused glances at Redfly when he slipped outside to spit on the ground and stare at the sky. 

It didn’t take long for him to rejoin you, anyway, and his shoulders seemed lighter, his eyes just a little more thoughtful. 

The group as a whole accepted you into their fold like they needed you, like each one of them had missed you when you were gone, like you missed them, like you belonged there from the start.

You had no idea how long the daydream would last, but in that moment it didn’t feel like it mattered at all. Collecting stories for James even faded as a priority as you just enjoyed the feeling of the glass in your hands, the laughter in the air, and teasing the men like they were just boys. Even after the last half hour, it was easy to trust Will’s sincere tone, and Ben’s eager blue eyes. The others were grounded at your side, steady and comforting - you felt yourself open like a flower to the sun. 

There was something about the shape of the catcher at your side, safe and warm, like his presence was reaching for yours, aching with yours. Through the stories and the jokes you relished it, and his eyes made it clear that you weren’t alone. And even though the universe made it abundantly clear that you had no idea what would happen next, you didn’t feel any need to hurry. Fate seemed to know what she was doing.

In the darkness of the bar, only Santiago’s eyes saw Frankie’s hand find the small of your back.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 24: Raging Tide

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

You did it and Liu Kang couldn't be prouder. Your brain is finally done buzzing and you find clarity in the Seas of Cloud. Then you return to the hotel- and then... drama!

A/N: Listen, I cannot wait for you guys to get to the next chapter. Like, so excited about it you have no idea LOL. I grinned like a crazy person writing it. I loved this one too, but trust me. As always, I love your feedback and that you took the time to read this nonsense. And as always, open to suggestions. Smooches. I will add links later, things are SUCH chaos right now.

Part 23 Part 25 Chapter Index

You sat in stunned silence and full of heavy breaths. You patted Liu Kang’s shoulder to see if he was okay and he offered you a thumbs up. Finally, you sat up and pushed your drenched hair from your face. You’d done it. You hadn’t drowned. Yay. You half-expected the creature to come back for vengeance but the water was still. There was something in the water though, glittering near the shallow shore that you’d crawled onto.

“Liu,” you coughed. You reached to grab it, but Liu grasped your shoulder to stop you.

“If it’s cursed, then we should try not to touch it directly.” He scooted closer to the edge of the pool. You were both completely soaked, clothing stuck to you. He peeled his shirt free of the sash around his waist and used it to scoop up the glittering something from the water. You groped around in hopes that your flashlight had made it with you but it was hopelessly lost. The water had probably ruined it anyway.

He set down his shirt, so you pulled it closer and carefully adjusted the cloth to take a look at what was within. It was a series of funny shaped stones. The sight of them made you shiver from head to toe. The monster’s defeat had done nothing for the foreboding feeling in the cavern. “What is it? It looks like… jade?” You rubbed your eyes and coughed up water. Liu patted you on the back and examined the stones before tying them up in his shirt securely.

“The ancient emperors were filled with jade after death. They believed it would provide their souls with immortality.” Liu set the bundle of stones behind you and then leaned back against the stone to catch his breath. You were impressed and grateful for the studious and insightful Liu Kang. “That’s why you saw them in your vision. This jade must have been used in those rituals and then hidden here.”

“Which means that it was stolen from a corpse, right?”

“At least one.”

You leaned your elbows on your knees and focused on your slow breathing. Your limbs were heavy and you pushed your hair back. You caught your breath and sat in silence other than the roar of water falling from above.

“You were great.”

You could feel him watching you and so you turned to him.

“Hmm?” What did he mean? You’d zoned out, focusing on the wheezing in your lungs.

“You were great,” he repeated, leaning up on his hands. You were careful not to admire the rest of his physique- something definitely worth admiring because god he was gorgeous. Even all bruised up he was impressive to look at. The bruises looked better than they had a couple of days ago. Even though you’d seen him shirtless a hundred times it still left you a little flustered. “You’re so much stronger than I give you credit for. I never meant to belittle your capability by worrying about you.” He sat upright and scooted a little closer to you. There was such sincerity in his eyes that it made you nervous. “I’m afraid to lose you, Y/N, not that you aren’t strong enough.”

“Liu…” You weren’t sure what to say. You felt bad for having gotten on his case about the worry at all. It was sweet that he thought of you so fondly. You owed him an apology at the very least. “I don’t mind you worrying about me, really. I was in my head and I’m…”

“You don’t have to say it, Y/N. I just wanted to tell you that you were great.” He urged his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze. You smiled, grateful that he understood that your nerves had gotten the best of you. You’d convinced yourself of things that just weren’t true. He was absolutely wonderful.

“Me? I’m great? Liu, you’re insanely skilled. I’m shocked at what you’re capable of.”

“I’m beat if it means anything.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Well, thank you.”

“We make kind of a great team.”

“We do.” He smiled fondly at you. “Your arcana is really coming along. The implications of what you could create are… astounding.”

“I’m a little proud, honestly.”

“You should be.” He stood and then reached for the shirt full of jade. You stopped him and then took it yourself.

“I’ll carry it. Just in case.” You didn’t want him to get sick if you could help it. If this curse was tied to you, then it was safer for you to hold it. Besides, you’d already been exposed to the bell so you figured what the hell. Liu didn’t fight you on it which surprised you. He really did trust you.

“We can climb up if you’re up for it. It’ll be easier than going through the cavern again especially without flashlights.”

“Are you up for that? You said you were beat.”

“I exaggerated.” He offered you a hand to help you up and you took it.

“Aren’t you freezing?”

“I’m fine. Are you? You’re drenched.”

“I’ll survive. But I’m just saying, you could have used your sash.”

“My sash is keeping my pants up, Y/N.”

“Oh.”

“Is that what you would have preferred?” He took a running jump and climbed onto the ledge above him. Then he offered his hand over the edge to help you up. You tossed the shirt onto the ledge and then jumped and grabbed his hand before climbing to join him. He was still waiting for an answer from you.

“I’m thinking.”

He laughed and then gave you a boost to the next ledge with the shirt in your arms. Then he bounced off the wall of the cavern and caught the lip of the ledge and climbed up next to you. The river that flowed in from the mouth of the cave flowed over the edges below you. The fresh air was a breath of relief. Pink radiance shone from the light of the setting sun. You left the cavern and walked around the edge of the river, stopping at the top of the slope that led back down to the path.

The mountains peeked above the clouds, whisps fluttering around the ridges and through the trees. From there they really did look like waves in the sea. The sun was setting beneath the clouds, pink and purple light illuminating throughout the gaps in them, the darkness of the night sky behind them. As the wind made you shiver, the clouds fluttered like ripples of ocean waves. You held the bundle of jade close to your chest and stared at the clouds in awe.

You’d never once believed that something could take your breath away so completely but there you were, breathless. You laughed in surprise and Liu joined you. You watched the clouds flutter past as the sun sunk lower, brilliant oranges kissing the pinks and purples. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Pictures don’t do it justice.” He folded his arms over his chest. You stood there watching the sun go down. It felt as though you were making up for the sunrise that you hadn’t gotten to watch together the other morning. You shivered. “Y/N?”

You turned to him, tearing your eyes away from the bewitching clouds. “Yeah, Liu?” You set down the shirt full of jade next to you. He’d already been watching you and you felt your cheeks flush. Usually you noticed when he was staring. His stare was always so intense. He took a step closer and pushed your messy, drying hair away from your face.

“You’re beautiful.”

You clenched your jaw and averted your eyes. A gut reaction. You hadn’t expected that. Obviously, you shared some deep attraction but you had never figured your appearance being part of the equation. You hadn’t thought about it other than being desperate for pants. It was a very direct and exceedingly sweet thing for him to say. You weren’t quite sure how to process it. It turned out that you were kind of bad at compliments. Liu Kang was full of admiration and compliments today. You had never considered yourself beautiful but you wouldn’t fight him on it either. “Look at me, Y/N.”

You did but it had fought your every instinct. His eyes were dark but still filled with fire. They were bewitching, passionate, and full of things that you weren’t sure either of you had the guts to say. Stepping closer, he urged his hand to your cheek and you placed your hand over his, not to stop him, but to bask in the warmth of his fingertips.

“Liu,” you began with every intention of starting a conversation. You had to talk about this. You’d kissed Kung Lao and you wanted to tell him that. He needed to know. You didn’t want to be a passive part of this decision anymore. But it didn’t feel right to bring it up just now. You weren’t sure it would ever feel right, but you would work up to it. His lips were so close to yours, his hand at your side, touching you as if you were something rare, something that he might not get the chance to hold again. In his arms you felt precious. “We shouldn’t.” That was close enough, right?

Apparently not.

“You’re probably right.” His breath was warm on your lips and you were hypnotized by them. They twitched just enough into a smile. “Or…” His lips were addictive, smile dripping with warmth, his eyes seeing all your secrets without you having to say a single word. It was like a drug. He picked up your hand and placed it to his chest, over his heart so you could feel how hard it was beating and all because of you. Was that really possible? “You can stop me, Y/N. If you want.”

His lips were dangerously close. Saying yes or no would make your lips brush against his and his lips had done more than enough brushing against yours. You didn’t think you could take it if they did it again without it becoming a kiss. His thumb brushed against your cheek and when you said nothing, his lips gently caressed yours before engulfing them. Liu Kang’s kisses before this had all been soft, enticing, a deep slow burn.

But this kiss was just like him.

Fire.

Burning passion and you didn’t hesitate to return his affection, not for a second. You had fought what you’d desired for so long and while you didn’t know what you’d do in the long run and were uncertain what your heart would choose, you knew that in that moment you wanted to kiss him. That was all that mattered. You could control this moment.

As your lips savored his, his arm slipped around your waist and your body pressed firmly against his. You urged your hand over his shoulder and into his messy hair. His tongue was wet and warm, his hand going from your cheek and into your hair as you tilted your head to the side to embrace his teasing tongue.

Every bit of his body was warm, pulled against yours, your curves pressing against his muscular form. You grasped his hair a bit tighter. Breathing seemed an impossible task, but who needed breath? You shivered from head to toe beneath the chill of the wind and pulled back from his lips only as the wind nearly knocked you off your feet. Liu steadied you and laughed in surprise. You had to talk but for now it felt nice to have kissed him without having to run away or come up with an excuse as to what had happened and why. You rested your head against his chest and he held you, arms strong around you, chin resting on top of your head. He turned just to give you a soft kiss on the top of your head.

Your heart hurt.

But he held you, hand brushing down your back slowly as if he understood the hurt in your heart. His arms were so comforting and strong that you couldn’t help but bury yourself against him and savor the moment. His muscular body so close to yours was an overstimulation in itself, but in the best way.

“We should go.” His voice was husky and soft, lips close enough to your ear to brush against it. You would have usually hid the shiver it incited, but you didn’t. He gave you chills and you wanted him to know it. “It’s getting late. We’ll return to the temple in the morning. We’ve earned a night in that room.” He kissed the top of your head again and then let go of you reluctantly. You nodded to agree since your mouth was currently still thinking about his rather than words.

If you managed to talk, it would be too much, and now was not the time. That kiss had been perfect. The time for talk was coming but for now you had a mountain to hike down. You retrieved the bundle of jade and made your way back to the path below. You continued along the path, making casual conversation but both clearly drained. It wasn’t awkward. Your kiss hadn’t made it weird. If anything, you both seemed in higher spirits than you would have been otherwise. You still felt that guilt in the pit of your stomach but you also weren’t sorry that you’d kissed him.

By the time that you reached the hotel you were exhausted. Your room was on the second floor and you took the stairs despite your weariness. There were too many people waiting by the elevator and you were a frightful mess after your ordeal in the cave. You’d already gotten plenty of looks just because Liu Kang was half-naked. You couldn’t blame them for looking. He was delectable.

The hotel room was nice, spacious, and there were two beds with plush white comforters. The television against the wall was more modern than the one you’d had at home before all of this. The bathroom was the nicest that you’d seen in so long that you immediately decided you would be taking a shower before bed.

You were grateful that he’d insisted on a night’s sleep in the hotel room before you returned to Raiden’s Temple. It was a nice reminder of what the rest of the world was like.

“I didn’t expect the room to be so nice.”

“It was the only place in town not booked. I guess this is a popular spot this time of year.”

The place you’d gone to in Japan had been overbooked. This place looked like it had plenty of hotels and space. You had the distinct feeling that he had found a nice place for you to relax in on purpose and you were appreciative of it. Who were you to point out that he sounded dishonest?

“I’m very excited about a hot shower.” You dug in your bag for one of the button-up nightshirt and short sets you’d purchased and set it at the foot of your bed.

“Before you do, you weren’t wounded, were you? I didn’t think to ask earlier. Blaming adrenaline.” He was digging through his own little bag that he’d brought with him. You set the bundle of jade in his shirt on the table next to your bed. He could have also blamed that he’d been thinking more about kissing you than if you were wounded, but you wouldn’t bring that up.

“I think I’m okay. Thanks, though.” You smiled. “You okay?”

“As far as I can tell. Enjoy your shower, Y/N.” He nodded toward the bathroom. You took your things and went into the bathroom and locked the door. You hated that you were picturing how lovely he’d look under that showerhead. Your face red, you shook it off and set your things down on the counter.

God, you missed modern showers. This was one of the best comforts. You had never been happier for the heat and pressure of the water against your sore body. It wasn’t until you were in the shower that you realized just how sore and exhausted your body was. It had been through the wringer the last few weeks. Your arms had scarred something fierce and your side was still healing. Your neck was just as bruised and you had various scrapes all over you from the fights of the last few days.

You stayed beneath the water longer than you should have but it was a luxury you knew you wouldn’t have much anymore. Eventually you got out, got dressed, and left the bathroom after cleaning up after yourself. Liu was seated at the foot of his bed, meditating. He hadn’t changed or cleaned up or anything like that. Apparently, he’d spent the whole time meditating. His arms were perfect, even without flexing and it was through this admiration that you noticed a scrape over the bruise that you’d given him on his shoulder. This one looked fresh. You returned to the bathroom, got a clean washcloth, wet it, and then sat next to him on the edge of his bed.

You brushed the cloth over the scrape to make sure it wasn’t worse than it appeared at first glance. You were sure he would take care of himself now that the bathroom was free but you wanted to check on him. The scrape was big and deep enough that you had to. If it got infected or went unnoticed because of the bruise, you wouldn’t forgive yourself. He opened his eyes and watched as you cleaned the wound.

Then you pulled the cloth back to take a proper look. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, thankfully. You waved your hand next to it to help it dry. He hooked his index finger under your chin and tilted you up to him. You smiled and he pushed your hair back, his hand lingering in it. You needed to talk. You kept thinking it but your mouth wasn’t listening to you. You wanted to lay there with him, talk, and try to understand what you were both feeling and what any of it meant. Instead, Liu Kang pulled his hand back.

Maybe he was thinking the same thing. Either that or if he made that jump to kiss you again then maybe you wouldn’t stop kissing and things would be even more complicated. God, you needed to get laid. Chen was right. There were so many hormones that it was killing you.

You had to push that out of your head, the mental image of him crawling over you, strong arms on either side of you... Stop it, stop it immediately, Y/N. You were too hot now, you wanted to fan your face but you fought the compulsion.

You had to talk.

Whatever came next involved action, confrontation, and conversation.

Then, much to your surprise, Liu Kang looked suddenly guilty as shit.

Kung Lao had looked guilty too. What the hell did that mean?

Boy, you really had to talk.

“That was it, right?”

“Hmm?” He seemed nervous.

“That was the only wound, right?” You’d been vague, you supposed, since you were both clearly thinking about unrelated things.

“I think so. I need to clean up but I had to… clear my head.” He stood.

“You okay, Liu?”

“I’m great, Y/N.” He bowed. “I’ll be back.” He went into the bathroom and you ran your fingers through your wet hair. Then you got up and opened the door leading onto the small balcony outside. You leaned against the railing, watching the city below. From there you could see people going about their night. Some people were heading home from work, couples were strolling along the streets, families were making their way back to their hotels. The mountains were haunting at night but in the best way. The clouds hung so low that they misted over the rooftops of some of the bigger hotels.

You heard Liu approaching behind you but didn’t turn to look at him. He stood behind you and you could feel his eyes as they lingered over your body, the way that he often did.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“The view is something.” You leaned your head against your arms and smiled. It had been nice to have your brain shut up for those few minutes. “It feels almost surreal.”

He came to stand next to you, prayer beads wrapped around his palm. He seemed more himself than he had been before he’d disappeared into the bathroom. He’d changed again, this time into loose comfortable pants and a tank top which surprised you. You’d never expected to see him in anything other than his gi. He set his hand on your shoulder.

“We should rest.”

“Yeah, probably.” You stood and he ushered you inside. He locked the door, and you pulled the curtain closed. Then you crawled into your bed and pulled the blankets to surround you. Liu did the same in the bed across from you. He turned off the light. You rolled onto your side to face him.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He held his hand out across the gap between beds. You reached to give his hand a squeeze and then hid again beneath the blankets.

“Goodnight, Liu Kang.”

***

You sat up in bed with a start, panic gripping at your chest. Everything was dark with the exception of the red light on the bottom of the television hanging on the far well. It took you a solid minute to realize where you were and that you hadn’t been taken somewhere against your will. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around them and closed your eyes tight.

Your chest ached.

That man’s hand had been so deep in your chest, squeezing your heart. You’d nearly forgotten after the chaos of everything. Then you’d slept and had seen hell. Your body had been consumed by ink, hands tied up as if attached to marionette strings. Then you’d seen flashes of them. Liu, Chen, Lao, Raiden, your sister, your niece. Dead. Their eyes wide open, milky, flies crawling across their flesh that was decaying right before your eyes and all because of you.

Tears streamed down your cheeks and you wiped them quickly to get them to stop but they were quickly replaced with new ones. You buried your face in the blankets and waited for the tears to stop, shuddering into them.

You couldn’t sleep with those images in your head but you had to at least stop crying. Liu Kang was in the next bed over, sound asleep. In your dream, he’d been trying to get to you, to protect you from yourself even though he was dying right before your eyes. It had been an especially cruel dream, leaving you trembling and sobbing over your very worst fears.

That was right.

Liu was right there. You could see his face. He would reassure you that he was okay, that he was alive, that it had been your subconscious preying on your worst fears.

You crawled out of your bed, fixed your shirt, and without a second thought pulled up his blankets just enough so that you could crawl into bed next to him. He shifted and leaned up on one arm, opening one eye sleepily. He looked you over, lingering a little longer on your legs than you expected. Then he blinked his eyes closed again. “Everything okay?” He cleared his throat after speaking and then blinked again as if struggling to resist the pull of sleep.

“I had a nightmare.” Your voice broke and you realized that this might be inappropriate but you’d needed to see him- to touch him. “Can I just… hold you for a second?”

“Come here.” He adjusted himself to make room for you and you climbed in and scooted closer, hand atop the comforter. He was still in the process of moving and suddenly scooted back as your hand rested on him through the blankets and he laughed nervously. “Hey whoa, careful where you’re…” He gestured to your hand that sunk into the bed after he’d moved. Your face burned and you laughed even if you were still on the brink of tears.

“Sorry.” Your laughter faded quickly when you saw his tired face. You never wanted to see him suffer the way that he’d suffered in your dream.

“It’s fine… just…” He cleared his throat and adjusted a bit further on the bed. “You had a nightmare?”

You sat with your knees curled up beneath you and were careful not to touch him after that. You didn’t know what the situation was with that. He pushed his hair back, waking himself up a bit more.

“A nightmare and not a vision, right?”

“There was no ink so I’m thinking it was a nightmare.”

“Tell me about it.” He leaned back against the pillows and rubbed his sleepy eyes. You didn’t think about this part. You hadn’t expected him to want to hear about the nightmare but there he was watching and waiting for you to spill your guts.

“You… you died. You all died.” You furrowed your brow, and you hated the way the words sounded. “You died and I couldn’t save you. You kept… trying to save me and…”

“Yeah, definitely a nightmare. Have them all the time.” He urged his arm around you and with surprising control, he urged you to lie next to him and rest in his arms. “Come here.” Like you’d had a choice. He held you close and adjusted himself to be more comfortable. Then he pulled the blankets around you both. “You can stay here for the rest of the night. I hated you being all the way over there anyway even if I was having a nice dream.”

“I’m sorry that I woke you. I just needed to see you.”

“You’re better than the dream anyway.” He closed his eyes and gave you a comforting squeeze. Better than the dream? Did that mean that the nice dream had been about you? You couldn’t wrap your mind around that right now. You kept picturing them lying dead before you. He rolled onto his back and urged you to rest against his shoulder. You placed your hand against his chest and considered that this was definitely the way that lovers slept. You had no word for what you were, but you were grateful for his arm around you.

You tried to rest, closing your eyes, but then you saw their faces again, desperate, pained, and dying. You gripped Liu a bit tighter, securing your arm around him and curling up against his side.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m here. I’m safe. We’re all safe.” He was drifting in and out of sleep already.

“Thank you,” you breathed, not wanting to keep him up any longer than you already had. You watched him drift to sleep before trying again yourself. You were grateful not to find any of the residual nightmare waiting for you. The lullaby of his calm breathing wasn’t enough to ease your heavy heart, but it was soothing and reassuring. He was there. No one was going to hurt them- not tonight at least. You pictured the jade bundled up on your side table and wondered if it was to blame for the sinking pit in your stomach.

You relaxed your grip on him and while it took ages to fall asleep after that, you did sleep.

In fact, you crashed hard.

[p---ink]

Bittersweet Escape

Author’s Note: It’s been a while folks. Just wanted to get a few things in order before school started, hope no one forgot about me :). This post is dedicated to @swaggysposts​ who requested the prompts, and themes of this imagine, so blame her for the tooth-rotting fluff and filthy smut. I just hope I did her fantasy justice. Anyway, its a long one guys, I kind of went off the rails. I seriously dont blame you if you don’t finish reading this one. 😂

Summary: The slow burn relationship between Tony Stark and Y/N, leading up to their honeymoon night. 

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, in that order. Age gap, slight daddy/dom kink, slight exhibitionism...and I think that’s it. 

Word Count: 15.2k

Disclaimer: while the pictures in this vision board are not mine, the vision board is. 

Edited on 19 September 2020. Just did some minor editing and a few changes/additions in dialogue near the end. 

You were his assistant. Before you, he couldn’t keep one to save his life. Most of your predecessors couldn’t handle his eccentricity. The ones who could, he fired shortly after sleeping with them. Something about them becoming clingy and demanding special treatment, rubbed him the wrong way. 

But, you could perform your job and more, under the pressures of his personality. When I say more, I mean that you basically carried his company from behind the scenes. You also didn’t pay him any mind. This is ultimately what drove him crazy. 

How could this beautiful woman—who kept him from drowning, fail to give him the time of day?

Naturally, Tony became obsessed with you. He could not get you out of his head. His interactions with you started off as a joke. He would often tease you, flirt with you, and demand outright ridiculous things of you just to get your attention. He once demanded you give him your opinion on the color orange. The days where he called you in his office to hand him things within two inches of his grasp, were the worst. 

You remained a champ, however. No emotion other than content, ever showed up on your face. Some would say your great indifference towards him, is what drew him in. But your beauty, and brilliance certainly didn’t hurt. You were a jack of all trades, that never failed to impress. 

As time went on, Tony’s feelings for you gradually shifted into something more. You both now had months of working closely together for him to realize he was hopelessly in love with you. He hung on to your every word. Valued, your every opinion. Did any, and everything just to accomplish what he thought would please you. Still it seemed nothing worked.

On the brink of giving up, Tony found himself drifting towards the break room where you currently resided. He had been laying it on thick that morning with his clever sexually charged suggestions. He felt like an ass for pursuing a woman who didn’t want him. He just couldn’t believe that the one person he actually wanted didn’t want him back. So, he felt the urge to apologize to you profusely, before he heard you mentioning his name. 

“…and Stark is pretty amazing. Excruciatingly sexy. I really like him.” You admitted into the phone, sighing for a moment before continuing. “But I know we wouldn’t work out. No, I’m not gonna just ‘fuck him…’” You continued your conversation with the unknown caller, but Tony tuned you out after hearing you say you had no faith in your non-existent relationship with him.

No, he thought. I won’t accept it. He refused to let you throw away a chance at something great. 

Come 6:30 pm, well past the end of the workday, you both found yourselves leaving for the elevator. You always left at the same time as him, to avoid the off chance of him needing something long after you were gone. 

You, who were always very perceptive of your environment, immediately took notice of your boss’ unusually quiet demeanor. However, you said nothing, as you both descended from the top floor of the Stark Tower. 

When you first entered the elevator, he took to the opposite side of you, arms crossed as he leaned against its railing, while you stood in front of its panel. You stole occasional glances, and each time you noticed him observing you. He didn’t even try to hide that fact. You dropped a few floors before the silence began to consume you. 

You swiped your tongue over your lip swiftly, before speaking. “Good evening Mr. Stark.” You greeted, offering a tight smile.

“Good evening.” He uttered, as his dark brown orbs remained trained on you. 

“What are your plans for dinner tonight?” You asked, just to spark a conversation. 

“Why? Are you offering?” He flirted, quirking his brow and lips for a split second. 

“I’m craving a seafood pasta.” You informed him, completely ignoring his suggestion. 

“Why won’t you give me a chance.” He questioned.

“I haven’t had pasta in a while now.” You said smiling, turning to meet his eyes. When they read to you dourness, you dropped your grin. He was not in the mood for your usual elusive dance. 

“I know you have feelings for me, Y/N.” He started. “I heard you admit it today.”

You thought about when he could have possibly heard you say that, until you remembered your phone call with Natasha. Eyes now wide in alarm, you asked “You were eavesdropping on me?”

“Why don’t you think we’ll work out?” Tony asked, trying to mask the vulnerability in his voice. He usually did a great job at hiding his emotions, but you proved to be a challenge. He could never read you, but you never failed at reading him.

You still had a few floors to get through, and you knew you couldn’t avoid your way through this one. Besides, avoiding only worked when Tony thought you were uninterested. You inspected him for a moment, before you gave him your explanation. You felt you at least owed him that. 

“Mr. Stark, I do like you. A lot, actually. But I prefer to keep my business separate from my pleasure, whereas you don’t mind blurring those lines.” You looked as if you were about to continue, but Tony jumped the gun before you could. 

“Y/N, with all due respect, if we began dating I’d just fire you.” Tony said with a surprising seriousness, causing you to breathe out a laugh. He lit up when he heard the sound. 

“No.” Is all you simply said, small grin still plastered on your features.

“Okay, but it can’t just be about working here. You’re brilliant, and you practically run this company. If I were to let you oversee a different division, you wouldn’t be directly under me—”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that, just because you like me.” You interrupted. 

“But I wouldn’t.” He told you. “That would be a terrible business move. I would do it, because you genuinely deserve it. All feelings aside.” 

The look you read in his eyes, was vastly different from the ones you had seen before. Yes you saw his look of longing, his look of desire, and of lust. But this one revealed his sincerity. He had nothing to gain. 

Dropping your head down, you found yourself feeling guilty for some reason. “Mr. Stark—”

“Tony.” He interrupted. 

“Mr. Stark,” You corrected, ignoring his look of disappointment. Getting on a first name basis could mean becoming too close. “You’re right: it isn’t just about business for me. If that were the case, i’d just find another job.” You began gnawing at your lip, something you often did when you got nervous. “Its about a secret I have.”

“I love secrets.” Tony chuckled. 

“Well you won’t like this one.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Its actually quite embarrassing.”

“Just tell me. I won’t judge you” Tony guaranteed. 

Before you could start your sentence, the elevator chimed, signaling you that you have reached the first floor.

You couldn’t make a move, before Tony crossed to your side of the elevator. It felt like time slowed when his scent and proximity enveloped you. An inviting smokey aroma, and a hint of black coffee, invaded your senses, sending your mind into a frenzy for a short moment. Then it all stopped almost as soon as it started. He was back to his side of the box. You wondered what that was all about, until you felt the lift move again. When you looked at the panel, about 15 buttons were lit up.

“Are you out of your fucking mind Stark?” You shrieked. 

“You have that effect on me.” He casually replied. 

“What is your problem?” You cried.

“You.” He answered.

“This isn’t a joke, why would you do that?”

“So you could tell me your secret.” He looked at you as if you were being absurd. 

“I would have told you just fine outside of the elevator.”

“So we could be alone together.” He said stepping closer once more.

“I’m your personal assistant. We’re always alone together.”

“So I could do this.” Swifter than his earlier movements, Tony was on you in an instant. He cupped your cheeks so he could meet your lips with his. The kiss felt like you had done it before. It felt like his lips were made for kissing yours. He didn’t even have to gauge what he thought you liked, he just knew. He knew your lips would bend to his will. He knew your tongue would be submissive to his. He even knew, your small hands would find their home around his neck. 

Turning his head ever so slightly to deepen the connection, his tongue darted inside your mouth, tangling with yours. Your hands each went into their own directions; one traveled the side of his face, while the other journeyed across the expanse of his shoulder.  

His hands took a trip of their own. While one remained fastened to your jaw, the other took a tour along the length of your body, taking note of every reaction, excited to learn your person. You moaned when he reached the middle of your back—the action sending tingles up your spine, as he pulled you closer to him. Relishing in the mewl, Tony caressed the area, willing more sounds like the previous one. 

Before he could explore you more, you unwillingly broke the connection. Both of you gasping for air, Tony wanted to be the first to speak. His pupils were now blown and his lips a darker shade of pink. He steadied himself, by placing a hand on the wall beside your head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay” you assured, trying to catch your breath. 

“No. I should of asked.” Bringing the hand that was on your cheek slightly down to your lips, he brushed the area with his thumb, spreading the wetness into the skin. He leaned in for a calmer kiss, capturing your bottom lip between his , sucking softly before letting it go. “What was your secret?” He rasped. 

You were so lost in his eyes, you were barely able to comprehend his words, let alone that he asked a question. “What?” You exhaled, shaking your head slightly in wonderment. You were still surprised a mere kiss could get you so shaken. 

Tony pulled away from you, grasping the railing behind your back, caging you into one place. “I asked, what was your secret.” He smirked, happy to finally be the one making you disoriented. 

“Oh! My secret!” You yapped, at the sudden recollection. So caught up in him, you forgot why you shouldn’t be. Collecting yourself, as well as your thoughts, you braced yourself for his reaction. Breathing in a deep breath of air you blurted “I don’t sleep with people I like” shutting your eyes as soon as you uttered the words. 

Tony stood upright after a moment, dropping his hands, confused more than upset, though you expected him to be the latter. “What do you mean?” He asked. 

You furrowed your brows and gazed up to gauge his expression, before continuing. “I mean if I really like a person, I won’t sleep with them.”

“Wouldn’t you rather sleep with a person you like, than one you don’t?” He questioned. 

“Well, yeah.” You stood up straight, and hung your head down. He almost made you feel silly. “But, um. Well…I haven’t had the best luck with my previous relationships. The eagerness to have sex seemed to be the common denominator. So I promised myself I’d wait until I knew I really liked the person and they liked me. The only problem with that, is that it seems no man wants to date a woman who’s practicing abstinence.” 

“And you haven’t given me a chance, because you assume I’d be one of those men.” Tony presumed. 

You let out a playful scoff. “Assume? I know for a fact you’d be.” 

“What gives you that idea?”

“I know how you are with women.” 

“How am I with women, Y/N?” He dared, awaiting an answer that he could explain away.

“Oh. Are we doing this?” You dared back, raising a brow and a smirk. He nodded matching your sneer. “Just this morning, you asked me why I was a bit groggy. I told you, it was because I lost a few hours of sleep. And do you know what you told me? If I ever want to lose a few more, I should consider losing them with you.”

His eyes formed into thin slits and he pressed his lips in a firm line, cringing at his own words. “Y/N” he started, as he repeated a tsk noise with his mouth. “Sweetheart, I was merely suggesting that I could keep you busy, by putting those lost hours to good use.” 

“And how would you put them to use, Mr. Stark?” You purred, crooking your head to look at him through hooded eyes, and small smug grin. 

“Um…” He pondered, trying to avoid answering “with sex” like he normally would. 

“That’s what I thought.” You whispered. You were a little disappointed to know, that he only wanted you in the way every man wanted you. By this point, the elevator reached the first floor again, but this time you were prepared. Taking advantage of his distracted state, you  slipped through the doors. But Tony wasn’t through with you yet. 

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist. When you snapped your neck around to his direction, he spoke. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but I’ve been pining after you for months now.” He explained, relieving his grasp on you once he was comfortable that you wouldn’t leave. “Most women throw themselves at me. And it isn’t very hard to seduce the ones who don’t. This means, that besides you, I could have practically any one I want.”

You violently rolled your eyes and blew air threw your nostrils, “And your point is, Stark?” Your hands were now glued to your hips in annoyance. 

“My point is, that I don’t want any other woman. I want you. And yes, I wanna sleep with you, but I also wanna sleep with you.” He exaggerated his words, putting emphasis on ‘sleep’ the second time around. 

You contorted your face into disgust. “Okay I get it, you really wanna sleep with me.” 

“No! Fuck.” He palmed his face in frustration, dragging the hand down slowly to gather his thoughts. “I’m explaining this all wrong. I’m trying to say, I wanna hold you through the night. I wanna wake up and you’re there. I wanna make you smile, and I wanna make you laugh. I would spoil you rotten if you gave me the chance. If I didn’t make myself clear before, I will now: I want you, Y/N. And I know you must think of me as some arrogant son of a bitch, who only wants what’s between those legs” He let his eyes flicker down to your legs, lingering there for a moment before gazing back up to you. “But give me the opportunity to show you that I want so much more.”

He left you breathless moments before in the elevator, and speechless now. “Mr. Stark, I—”

“Tony. Please say my name.” He pleaded, his almond eyes piercing into your soul. It was rare for you to look so vulnerable. You have perfected masking your emotions. So he drank your vulnerability in while he could. 

“Tony.” You said tenderly, tasting the word on your tongue for what felt like the first time. He also took pleasure in hearing you say it. You remained formal to his face your entire relationship, so it felt like you were both reintroducing yourselves all over again. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night. I can—wait no, I will get you the best damn pasta, you’ve ever tasted.” He smiled, when you chuckled. “We will spend the night, getting to know each other a bit more. Then, I’ll walk you home, instead of driving, so that we can take in the city. When we get to your place, I’ll give you a kiss goodnight like the perfect gentleman I am. And then I’ll turn around and go home, to think about you until the next time we see each other.” He promised. 

You were in awe at the thought, but were still unsure. “I don’t know.” You answered, averting your gaze from his. You knew that he was a player, and you were afraid he’d hurt you. What if this is all some elaborate plan to get inside my panties? You thought. 

Tony grabbed your hands, bringing both of them up between the two of you, willing you to look at him. “Please give me a chance.” He begged, silently pleading with his eyes. 

And you, seriously thought about what the harm could be. If he ignored your wishes, then he wasn’t the one. Simple as that. So you said yes to his dinner proposal. 

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

He almost lost all of his composure, when you stepped out of your apartment in the little black crushed velvet dress that hugged your curves in just the right way. You paired it with black wedge heels, that made your delicious brown legs look like they went on for miles. Your hair was done up strategically so, to accentuate your appetizing neckline, and the dark red matte lipstick you wore made your lips look sultry. It was very obvious that you were purposefully trying to test him. But to your happy dismay, he was everything he said he would be.

You had your first date on his private yacht, that overlooked the city. While you could still see New York, you were out far enough to where you could also view the stars. You lived in the city your entire life, and had only ever seen them once or twice. Already, on your first night together it felt like he was spoiling you.

He ordered the most expensive wine for the table, consuming an entire cupful in one gulp, when he watched you wrap your lips around your glass just to stain it with red lipstick. He wished it was his skin instead. He meant it when he told you, sex wasn’t everything, but damn it, that didn’t mean he didn’t want you screaming his name. Still he promised to be the perfect gentlemen, and that’s exactly what he was. 

After ordering you the best damn pasta you ever tasted, you competed with each other, almost as if you were trying to see who could find out the most about the other. He saw an entirely new side of you. You were usually so secretive about your private life before, so he took advantage of the newfound courage the wine gave you. You were also happy to see his more carefree side. He was always carefree, but his usual happy-go-lucky spirit was paired with a suffocating arrogance that never failed to annoy you. This one was genuine, and it was because he no longer had to worry about whether or not you wanted him.

After dinner, he instructed his driver to take you both over halfway back to your place, before you walked the rest. It was about a fifteen minute trek to your apartment, and he took advantage of every second. Every one of them was fleeting, as he fell more and more in love with you. He learned of your interests. Of your desires. Of your fears that came from dating. When you were finished talking, he urged you to continue, dying to know more about the woman who captured his heart. You wanted to know more about him too, but Tony suggested another date in order to satisfy your interests in him. You smiled, at hearing him propose another outing before your first one was even over. 

When you reached your door, he wasted no time in placing his hands along your hips to pull you in for a kiss. This one was less feverish than the one you shared in the lift, but it still conveyed how much he longed for you. He took his time, as he moved his mouth against yours, tongue swiping against your bottom lip, begging for your permission to enter. You granted it, and like before he explored you with his tongue. He didn’t back away very far, in fact he didn’t back away at all. Instead, he let his lips slightly brush across the area that connected your cheek to your ear, whispering a “Goodnight, Y/N” Before dropping his hands, and turning to leave. 

He left you hot and bothered, as you stood outside your door watching him walk away. This is gonna be so fucking hard, you thought. 

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

Your relationship began almost immediately after that night. He wanted to make you wait until the following Monday before speaking with you again, but you refused to wait that long. Tony being older preferred talking on the phone, instead of texting, despite being a tech genius. When you contacted him through iMessage to ensure he got home safely, he called you immediately to tease you for worrying about him. After you brushed him off, you spent the entire night talking to each other, falling asleep to the sound of the others voice.

He sent flowers to your doorstep, the following Monday after your date. It just sort of became a tradition after that. Sometimes they’d get delivered to your apartment, other days to the office (he loved to see your smile, when you’d find them on your desk). Each time they’d be a different kind with a note attached to them that expressed their meaning. Under the meaning would be a message from Tony himself. Sometimes the messages were cheesy, and other times very heartfelt.

The first bouquet was filled with pink peonies, that according to Tony represented romance and good fortune. They were his attempt at welcoming the success of your new relationship. He even said so in his inscription to you. ‘To the beginning of something beautiful’, he wished. 

After your second date, he sent you yellow pansies, that meant he was thinking of you. In that inscription he begged you to ‘Please slow down, when you race through my mind’. The fifth date, was followed by honeysuckles. They declared his devoted affections to you. Their inscriptions insured that you were the only girl on his brain. 

By the time your seventh date came, asters were his flowers of choice. Patience, was all the card said. He sent those after the first night you spent together at his place. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him.

After the date ended, and he took you home, you barely even gave him the chance to unlock and open the door before you were dragging him towards the nearest couch. You shoved him down on it when you reached it, throwing your thighs on either side of his, before devouring his lips. Rocking your hips against his, you consumed his growls of pleasure. He planted his fingertips in you thighs, slowly inching them upwards towards the hem of your dress. You left sweet pecks along his jaw, before decorating his neck with colorful bruises. 

“Y/N, stop.” Tony ordered through gritted teeth. He felt his dick hardening beneath your movements, but you didn’t listen. Instead, you sucked, nipped, and licked at his skin, dragging your teeth over his throat. When you reached a particularly sensitive spot, he bucked his groin into yours, releasing a nasty groan that sounded like pure sex. Like a flash of lightening, his hands were on your hips, removing them from his as he placed you on the seat next to him. Your legs still dangled over his lap, and you looked at him with a wounded expression that was mixed with confusion. 

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want me?” You asked, adjusting your dress, now feeling very insecure.

Tony was busy adjusting himself too (his pants felt tighter than usual), before he snapped his neck to question you. “What? Of course I want you. Doesn’t it feel like I want you?” He questioned, gesturing towards his prominent bulge. Your look of bewilderment turned into a smug smile as you took note of how big it seemed. “I just want to respect your wishes.” He added, smiling at your expression.

“But, I know how you feel about me now.” You assured him, leaning in for his neck again. He gripped your wrist when your hand traveled towards his zipper. He placed it near your side, before speaking.

“I wanna make sure our first time is perfect. Don’t you think you deserve that?” He asked. You had changed him. The Tony from a year ago would have ravaged you the second you asked him. But this one wanted to make sure there wasn’t a doubt in your mind before you slept together.

“Tony, I don’t care about perfect, I want you now.” You stated, leaning in once again to tongue your name into his skin. He cupped your face firmly with the hand that was on your jaw, beckoning you to stop and look at him.

“Be patient, princess.” He whispered, placing a peck on your lips. 

You began to pout, as you threw your legs off of his to sit properly on the couch. You let the cushions swallow you, as you wore your disappointment in your face. Tony chuckled darkly at the sight before him, enjoying how cute you were being. He tucked his leg under the other to turn his attention fully around to you, letting his palm catch his chin as his elbow lay propped against the back of the couch. 

“Y/N,” He cooed, when you remained focused on the nothingness in the distance. “Y/N,” he purred again, yet still he was met with silence as you trained your eyes on the air around you. When he reached to palm the inside of your thigh, he felt you tense up. He traced love notes against the exposed skin, dropping his free hand down to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He lightly connected his lips to the shell of said ear, before he spoke. 

“Just know, that when I finally do get my hands on you,” He paused to grip the inside of your thigh, parting your legs slightly before continuing, “I’m not gonna stop until your legs are shaking.” He promised. And with that, he pulled away excusing himself from the room, while you released a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

There were plenty of nights like that one. Your favorite ways to relieve some of the sexual tension were, heavy make-out sessions, risky cuddling, and phone sex. You heard each other’s pants and moans before you would even see the other naked. 

Taking your mind off of sex seemed to be the best solution, however. You were still eager to do it, but Tony took your original idea of abstinence and ran with it. He would never admit to you that you hurt him when you assumed he just wanted to get in your pants. He really liked you, and he was gonna make sure you knew it. That being said, you both did any and everything to keep your minds off of what the other looked like without clothes on. 

You both loved to spoil each other. He was the mastermind behind your more extravagant dates, but you orchestrated your more low-key outings. He would always argue that they were better than any he could have ever thought of, but you would debate the opposite. 

Picnics in open fields, ice skating in central park, even camping in the woods were places Tony made happy memories with you. 

Six months passed since you two got together, and your apartment looked like a floral shop due to the amount of flowers he delivered to you. You desperately fought to preserve them. Though most would die, you saved the ones that wouldn’t, framing them with the notes he sent to you. 

You found red tulips one afternoon after work. You found it very odd, since he always sent you flowers after a date, instead of before one. He always sent them after, to relay his thoughts about how you made him feel. There was no flower meaning under the tulips, just a note from him saying, ‘For a very special woman, and a very special evening’.

He always said things similar to the message above, so while you smiled and held the note and flowers close, you thought nothing of it as you prepared for your six month anniversary.

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

“This is where we had our first date!” You beamed, sitting down in the chair as Tony pulled it out for you. He had you blindfolded on the ride there, but as soon as you smelled the sea, heard the seagulls, and felt your heels click against the boardwalk, you put two and two together on where you were. 

“Sure is.” He smiled, as he took the seat in front of you. The warm candle light, instantly lit up his face. He was always clean-cut and prided himself in his attire, but you couldn’t help but notice he was more dressed up for this occasion.

  “It’s still just as beautiful as ever.” You cried, head moving from side to side every so often because you couldn’t decide on which was prettier; the heavens or NY’s silhouette. 

“And this is the part where I say, ‘it could never be as beautiful as you, dear.’” Tony cooed, only half-serious.

“Even your cheesy lines couldn’t ruin tonight.” You joked.

“Oh baby, I wouldn’t think about ruining tonight. It is our six month anniversary after all.”  

“It is? Has it really been that long?” You asked, feigning ignorance. 

“Ouch. Y/N, that stings.” He winced, mocking hurt.

“I’m sorry Tony, I guess I lose track of time when I’m with you.” You purred.

“And you call me cheesy.” He mumbled, cheeks sporting a tint of pink. You couldn’t tell if it was from the cool night’s air, or your comments. 

You chose to ignore it. “Wait, so is that why you sent me those tulips? They were beautiful.”

“Yes it is.” He replied. 

“You didn’t include their meaning. Could it be you’re running out of ideas? That would explain why you took me back to the yacht.” You teased. 

He scoffed at you. “I could never run out of ideas. I’ll take you around the world, as soon as I know you’re willing to let me.”

His words left you confused. “Wha—” 

You interrupted yourself when you heard the sound of soft music. You looked over to see that a lady dressed in white had taken her place in front of a harp. She was playing a gentle melody, when a man with a violin sat down beside her. They played their music so beautifully, it would have made angels weep.

“This is amazing…but where the hell did they come from?” You questioned, making Tony chuckle.

“Oh I keep ‘em under the ship. I only feed ‘em on occasion so they know to come back to me.”

“Okay smart-ass.” You laughed, leaning over to grasp his hand. You thought he seemed tense on the ride here and now. He wasn’t his usual chatty self, and only threw jokes here and there. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, and took your other hand to rub circles in his palm, something you learned that eased his nerves. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing. I just want tonight to be perfect.”

“Why?”

“Well because…” He paused for a moment, breaking his eyes from yours. “Shit, well maybe this will help me say what I want to say.” He gestured towards someone with a “come here” hand motion, and not a minute later a huge bouquet of roses got placed in front of you.

Your eyes were wide in wonder as you tried to comprehend the meaning of it. “Tony, this has to be over 100 flowers!”

“108 to be exact.”

“108?! I don’t think my apartment can withstand any more of these!”

“If tonight goes well, that will no longer be a problem.”

You didn’t hear what he said, as you were busy searching the roses in awe. Tony had sent you every flower in the book, but never roses. They were the symbol most known for someone who was in love, or falling in it, yet he never gave them to you. You searched the bouquet for a note but found nothing. “The tulips had no message either. I have to say, as much as I tease you for writing them, I always look forward to what you have to say.” You confessed to him, thinking you had shamed him into hiding his words.

“What I want to say, should be said in person, rather than on a notecard. The tulips stand for love.” He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I have fallen, so deeply in love with you, I can’t even find myself. But if I’m being honest Y/N, I don’t really want to.”

“Tony.” You gasped, heart beating a mile a minute. 

“Please let me finish. I’m so nervous, I could choke.” He was sweating bullets, despite the cold night’s air. You grasped both his hands with yours, gazing into his eyes as he spoke, urging him to continue which only seemed to make him more timid. In an attempt to pull away, he spilled his water on your dress. The cold liquid made you jump up, causing the table in front of you to flip over. Bread, glasses, and candles littered the floor, and your servers were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Tony threw cloth at the ground, as he tried to extinguish the candle fire before it got out of control. “I’m so sorry baby! Oh fuck, I ruined everything.”

“No, no, no, no, no! I’m the one who started the fire. But Tony, look: the flames are out, the view is still perfect, and the roses are still in tact.” You said, picking up the flowers as you tried to make light of the situation. You caused him to laugh, which eased his nerves a bit. 

“The roses.” He sighed. “These little sons of bitches were supposed to make this situation easier.”

“What is so hard about saying I love you. I’ve wanted to say it to you for a while now, I just never had the guts.” You told him blushing a bit. Changing the subject, you said, “You certainly didn’t need 108 roses to tell me. Why that specific number anyway?”

He now felt confident in hearing you say you loved him too. “I’m surprised you waited this long to ask me. It means,” He paused, to get down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

He could read the surprise in your features, as he took the roses from your hand. He pulled the middle rose out of the bouquet to reveal a ring tucked discreetly around its stem, thorns, and leaves. A beautiful Champagne colored diamond, sat between his fingers as he searched your eyes for answers.

“Yes!” You breathed out, dropping to your knees to throw your arms around his neck. You were teary eyed, as you kissed his cheeks. 

This night, on your six month anniversary, you expected Tony to finally make a move in bed. Instead, he left you happier than you could have ever imagined as his fiancé. 

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

4 months later. 

You were originally gonna get married two months after his proposal, but the girls felt that wasn’t enough time to plan your fairytale dream. While Okoye and Natasha gave Tony a run for his money planning the wedding and honeymoon, Wanda and Nakia helped calm your pre-wedding jitters. 

Nat and Tony were constantly at each other’s throats about how things should go. Where she wanted simple and elegant, he wanted flamboyant and extravagant. She was constantly trying to cater to your style and aesthetic, while Tony wanted things to be over-the-top perfect for you in order to make your night one to remember forever. Okoye mostly stayed out of the planning. She only went along with the two to threaten Tony every minute about treating you right. “Be good to her. Or I’ll kill you.” She whispered to him as you guys went cake-tasting. “If you hurt her, I’ll slit your throat.” She smiled to him, while venue-picking. It was safe to say, he hated your friends, but one thing they all had in common was their love for you. 

You couldn’t stand being around those three when they were in a room together. They wouldn’t let you lay a finger on the planning anyway, so Tony asked Nakia to keep you happy. As his wedding gift to you, he treated you all to a pampering fit for queens. Nakia was in charge of the bridal shower, spas, hair salons, photoshoots, etc., all courtesy to Tony. These were all the ways you occupied yourself before the wedding.

The night of your bachelorette party was one of your fondest memories. You and your friends got black-out drunk as you laughed, teased, and cried with each other. 

“Here’s to Y/N, on marrying the moesinsufabullbasterd on planet earth” Natasha slurred, raising (and spilling) a martini. You assumed she was trying to say the “most insufferable bastard”, but it came out in jumbles instead. 

Hiccup. “Heeesna thaa bahd.” You slurred back, playfully shoving the girl. Your words were just as incoherent as hers. 

Your response caused Okoye to erupt in laughter, before her head promptly slammed onto the table for the rest of the night. She was now alongside Val and Carol who had both passed out within the first hour. Whenever those two got together they always drank like monsters. 

Wanda who was rocking back and forth, looked at you suddenly and began to weep. For the eighth time tonight. “My baby’s getting married.” You were trying to hold it together, but her tears caused you and Nat to explode. You were three sniveling women, holding each other close as you guys bawled in your booth.

Nakia, the only one who could hold her alcohol, was done with everyone’s shit so she shushed you all. “Enough. I have gifts to exchange.” While Natasha and Wanda continued weeping, Nakia grabbed your shoulders, and beckoned you to pay attention. “Y/N, I know you’re hanging on by a thread here, but you need to listen very closely. I am going to teach you to please a man.”

Hiccup. “Nakiaaaaaa, I’m not a virgin silly.” You affirmed, slapping her bare arm.

“I know. But you haven’t been with another person in over a year.”

It was true. You and Tony have been a couple for exactly one year. Its been over 365 days since the two of you had even been laid. You still hadn’t even touched each other. You see, it was Tony’s bright idea to suggest waiting until you were married. He had played the waiting game long enough, so he thought why not? “This will make the event even more special.” He said to you, and to himself.

Little did he know, he would regret it. He didn’t anticipate the wait to be this long. You no longer cared about it as much as you thought you would. You were too busy worrying about the big day. But it was all that Tony could think about. He was on the verge of being feral the closer your special night approached. 

“We have to get you prepared.” Nakia continued. “That is why I brung these.” It was then that she handed you her gift bag. You looked inside to find, a dildo, vibrator, blindfold, handcuffs, etc. There were things ranging from special pills to make you wetter, to anal beads. Everything was a toy, or something related to sex. The bag was filled to the brim. You didn’t know why you were so surprised: Nakia was always the more kinky friend. 

“No, Nakia!” You yapped, a little embarrassed. You were horrified. “I’ll know how to make him happy.” You slid the bag across the table, but Nakia slid it back. 

“Well these will help you if you want to spice things up.”  

You slid it back again. “No thank you.”

“I insist.” She said, sliding it back once again. You guys played that game for a while, but you were so drunk you could play it all night.

“Fine, you stubborn child!” She joked, finally conceding. “But don’t come crying to me when you find yourself clamming up in your suite’s bathroom.” Though she was joking, you couldn’t help but find yourself growing anxious. 

What if you weren’t enough for him? What if after all this time, you didn’t live up to his standards? He had been waiting so long for this, what if he expected your first time to be beyond amazing? What if you couldn’t give him that?

You thought about Tony, who was having a bachelor party of his own with Sam, Bruce, Clint, Thor, Bucky and Steve, and you wondered if they were having a conversation about the honeymoon too. You thought about how his friends were probably teasing him about how wild you were gonna be, since you’ve been sex-deprived for so long. Was he gonna still love you if you weren’t?

You pushed those thoughts to the back of your head, and tried to enjoy the rest of the evening. You looked up and waved to the bartender, shouting “Can we have another round?”

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

The ceremony was wonderful, the reception even more so. You had the time of your life, with the people you loved, while they watched you marry the man you loved. Natasha and Tony found a middle-ground to make the day both extravagant and elegant. It was a dream. 

But as soon it was all over, your mind drifted towards the honeymoon. The two of you were finally welcoming the world for the first time as a married couple. 

“Y/N Stark. Mrs. Tony Stark. Mrs. Anthony Edward Stark. Mrs. Y/N Stark.” You practiced to yourself. You repeated his name, which was now yours, over and over in various ways, as you guys sat on his private jet. You would think you were on the brink of driving Tony insane, but he’d be a liar if he said he didnt find it cute. “Why yes, I am Y/N, but you can call me Mrs. Stark. AHH, Tony I’m so excited!” You cheered, slapping his arm repeatedly out of elation. Your outburst, startled him from his newspaper. He had managed to tune out your rambles for most of the flight, but little moments like these were hard to ignore. 

“Christ, sweetheart. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were happier with my name, than you are with me.” He laughed, rubbing his arm. 

“It’s not that. I’m just excited!” You beamed. “We’re married! I have your last name.” Suddenly, you leaned into him, willing him to meet you halfway so you could whisper into his ear. When Tony lowered his head to humor you, you said. “Hey…Between you and me: I could kiss the next person who calls me Mrs. Stark.” You confessed, slumping back down into your plane seat to daydream some more. 

Tony looked at nothing for a second before repeating your gestures from earlier that willed you to lean closer. When you leaned back in, he whispered, “I wouldn’t get that excited, dear. Those lips belong to me now.” He teased, slumping back down before saying, “Mrs. Stark.” He winked as he said the words. 

“Eek!” You shrilled, as soon as the words left his lips. You threw yourself over the arm of your seat to place wet smooches all over the side of his face. Tony sat still, closing his eyes as he basked in them all. He looked at you confused when you suddenly ceased your actions. 

“Hey, who told you to stop.” He asked, but your attention was on something else. Snapping his fingers in your face he gave up when he lost to whatever held your gaze. 

With eyes full of wonder you said, “Wow! This is gorgeous!” You were gaping the moment the clouds revealed the beautiful island of Kauai. Like the wedding, your honeymoon was a complete surprise, which meant you had no idea where he was taking you. “Look at that view!” You gasped, as you admired the clear blue waters, trees, and mountains. 

This was gonna be one trip to remember.

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

“Damn!” You sounded, as soon as he opened the doors to your vacation home. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Stark. This is beautiful.” You felt like you said those words in your one year relationship with Tony, more than you have in your entire life. 

“Honestly baby, when are you gonna stop being so surprised.” Tony questioned as he tipped the driver, who also helped lug your bags up. He shut the doors and spun around on his feet to find you admiring the view in amazement. Taking slow strides across the room to meet you, he wrapped his hands around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your dress slid up slightly as he pressed his front against your back. Traveling hands turned into curious ones as they smoothed themselves over the expanse of your thighs through your dress’ thin material. 

You felt his hardening member poking your lower back. “Woah! Someone’s excited to meet me.” You chuckled, neck heating up. 

“Try dying.” He responded, squeezing your upper waist before traveling down your stomach. 

“Do you really wanna do this here?” You asked gasping, when you felt his feather light kisses on your neck develop into nips and licks. 

He gripped your waist a little tighter before rasping, “I wanna do it in every room of this house, but yea we can start here.” 

“Tony, quit it. We have so much to do!” You whined, dropping his hands, to skitter away, leaving him in that exact position. Heat burning in your loins, you ignored it to grab your bags from the door. You dragged your luggage to the master bedroom, as you ignored his stalk towards you. Tony, who was hot on your trail, threw himself down on the bed in front of you, laying in a silly, yet seductive, pose. 

You playfully scoffed at his antics. Crossing the room back and forth, to place clothes in your wardrobe, you asked him,“So what’s on the agenda first? The aquarium, bike-riding, snorkeling? Ooo! Should we go hiking?”

He pondered for a moment, placing a finger to his chin to simulate deep-thinking. “Well actually, I was thinking maybe we could break the bed in first.” He suggested, a devilish grin plastered on his features. 

You chucked a pair of rolled up summer pants at him, which landed on his face, dropping to expose his stoic expression. “No! You promised we would do some fun activities when we got here!”

“That is a fun activity. Why go bike riding out in the summer’s heat, when you could ride me right here while in the comfort of your own home?”

“Ugh! You promised!” You giggled, stomping a foot for dramatic purposes. “Besides, you’re the one who said, we should wait until our wedding night. It’s not even 10:00 am.”

“If you actually listened to me, I said, and I quote, ‘Let’s wait until we’re married.’” Tony clarified, sitting up to pull you between his legs, “And now we’re married.” 

You gazed down at him with a stern look that read ‘I’m going to win this’. He gazed back, matching your features, as if to say the same. The both of you were trying to see who would break first. “I don’t have time for this.” You declared after a moment. Tony just sighed as a reply, dropping his head on the mattress. 

  You elected to ignore him, and went back to unpacking, but yelped when you came across something surprising. Tony, who was busy playing with a pair of your panties, didn’t notice what surprised you, but couldn’t help but notice your squeal. 

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, trying to peek at whatever you were hiding under the shirt in your suitcase. 

“Nothing.” You lied, in a sweet tone. He saw right through it though, and began to pry your fingers away. Revealing his findings, he was happy to see the plethora of toys in your suitcase. Nakia couldn’t fit all that she bought you, but what she did manage to slip in while you weren’t paying attention, was more than enough for Tony to work with.

“Woah, woah, woah! Look at what we have here.” Tony gleamed, marveling at a pair of furry black handcuffs. His face was as bright as the day he met you. You were blushing furiously, when he came across a small pink vibrator. “Y/N, you are such naughty girl.” He teased.  

You immediately tried explaining yourself. “I didn’t put that stuff in there. Nakia must of snuck it in while I—”

“Thank you Nakia. I always knew I liked her more than all of your other friends.” Tony joked interrupting you. Then, his eyes lit up when they set upon a pair of interesting looking underwear. His shit-eating grin, turned into a wicked one as he thought about a clever idea. 

“Here’s the deal.” He started

“No, to whatever it is, Stark.” You interrupted before he could propose a stream of bullshit. 

“Come on. At least hear me out.”

“What is it?” You sighed, supposing you could humor him. 

“If you wear these, I’ll go anywhere you want.” He pulled a pair of lacy black panties from the suitcase. They looked harmless enough, until you saw something bulky protruding from their seat.

“Are those, what I think they are?” You asked. Your friend was seriously a fiend. 

“Yup.” Tony said, popping his lips as he said the word. A small smile, took over his lips, as he eyed you. He taunted you with those smug brown eyes. 

You eyed him back, mouth agape, as you thought carefully. You knew he didn’t peg you for taking many risks, but you wanted to wipe that smug expression right off his face. “Anywhere I want?” 

“Anywhere you want.” He mimicked in a promising tone. 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” He mimicked again, in disbelief that you actually agreed, but he let his face convey that same smug expression. “Well princess, what are you waiting for?” He asked, dangling the pair of lace on his pointer finger for you to take. 

You decided that if he was gonna play games, you’d at least try to play them better. “Put them on for me.”

It was then that Tony’s grin dropped. His eyes that already danced with lust, turned a darker shade of brown. “What?” He asked, voice a tinge huskier than before. 

“Put. Them. On. For me.” You reiterated, speaking slower. Your smile was the smug one this time. You steadied yourself between his legs again, placing your hands firmly against his shoulders. 

Tony placed his tongue between his cheek before his eyes formed into thin slits. Then his face went blank, save his eyes that still burned with passion. 

Without taking the brown orbs away from yours, he took his time dragging his hands up your legs and to your thighs. He admired the supple skin beneath his touch, as they came dangerously close to your heat. 

You were beginning to regret your teasing, when he dug his fingers in the elastic of your waistband, and tugged the flimsy material down. You stepped out of them, suddenly feeling bare as he tossed your underwear to the side. This, was the closest you had ever come to being naked in front of him. He then slipped the vibrating panties around your feet, brung them up your thighs, and stretched the material until it released with a snap that stung and burned your skin. The action made you whimper, and that brung a smile back to Tony’s otherwise unreadable face. 

He then placed the black remote that controlled the panties into his front pocket. “You’re gonna regret teasing me like that.” He warned playfully. But you believed him. 

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

This is a fucking game to him, You thought as you sat down for drinks. Tony was playing with that damned remote everywhere you went. He pressed it when you guys went to the aquarium. He pressed it when you went sight-seeing. He pressed it while you were on your famous attraction tour. And now, he was currently pressing it while you suffered silently.

Everything, was cut short to less than forty minutes. Everything. But you figured that was his point. The faster you guys got this over with, the faster he could get you back home. Of course he didn’t want to ruin your honeymoon, but at the same time he knew you guys would be here for a week, which gave you plenty of time to complete everything on the itinerary. And if you didn’t have enough time, he could schedule to stay longer. 

Besides, it was amusing to him, watching you squirm in your seat. Watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. He loved the sight of your hardening nipples, through the thin fabric of your dress. And though he was frustrated from your earlier teasing, and was doing this to get back at you, it quickly stopped being about that when he heard your pants and whimpers. Now he was doing it, solely to get you off. However, he hadn’t let you cum yet. He just wanted to bring you to edge, and see how far he could take you before you begged him to fuck you. 

“Can we have two Mai Tai’s” You asked the waiter. Your voice went through at least two notes as you said it. Before you got there, you begged him to make the order, but he wouldn’t show you any mercy.

A worried look etched its way onto the younger man’s face. “Yes ma’am, but are you okay? Should I call a medic?”

“No!” You said a little louder than usual, hoping he couldn’t hear the low buzz of the vibrator. “Its just a slight tummy ache is all.” You lied, moaning a bit at the end. Your fists were clenched tightly above the table, as you tried to ignore what was going on beneath it. 

“Okay.” The waiter replied, worry still on his features. He shuffled away to prepare your drinks, leaving you alone with Tony. 

“Isn't this view just lovely?” Tony asked, watching the waves of the beach crash against sharp rocks and wet sand. You couldn’t help but feel like that ocean, as your dam threatened to snap for the fifth time that day. 

When you didn’t reply, he increased the remote’s level, making you buck forward in your seat, just to lower the intensity back down again. “You okay, sweetheart?” Tony asked you sweetly. The look on his face read sincerity, and if you didn’t know any better you would of thought he was being genuine.

“Bite me, Stark.” You spat. 

“If that’s what you want.” He whispered, hands slightly shaking from how turned on he was. “Whenever you want to go home, just say the word.” 

You sat up straight, glowering at him. “Oh baby I’m fine. We can still go hiking if that’s what you were worried about.”

He exhaled a dark chortle, before bringing himself closer to you. “Y/N, we can always go hiking tomorrow.” He placed his warm hand at the top of the line on your back, trailing it down your spine. “Now why don’t you let me take you back home, so I can make us both feel better.” He was currently flicking the buttons of the controller, back and forth, so that you were on edge one second, then falling back down the next. 

“Fuck you.” You bit through gritted teeth. Your face was contorted in pure ecstasy, and your thighs went back and forth between being glued together and wide open. You were usually such a good girl for him, but this teasing was bringing out a brat. Tony wasn’t having any of it.

“Okay.” Was all he said, before increasing the remote to its highest level, leaving it there to finish you off. 

An embarrassingly loud wail escaped your throat, just as your waiter was heading back with your drinks. He just stared at you in shock, cheeks a brilliant shade of red, while your mouth just hung open. Tony, the cause of it all, nonchalantly played with the straps of your dress and pieces of stray hair, unfazed your embarrassment, nor the waiter’s. 

You held your head down, took your drink to begin sipping, before you turned to him, shame and regret swallowing you. “I’m ready to go home now.” 

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

As soon as you two made it back to the house, you sprinted through the house, and flung yourself into the bedroom slamming its door shut. Tony took his time trudging in your direction, figuring you were still pissed at him. 

He knocked his head against the door, and said “Little pig, little pig, let me come in.” In a deep sing-songy voice, before jiggling the now locked door. 

You, who were indeed irked for what he pulled at the bar, yelled “Cut it out Tony. You said we could go hiking.”  

“And we can…after you let me fuck you silly.” 

“You know if we start that you won’t wanna stop.” You reminded him as you gathered your attire for the trek. 

“You have a point” He muttered. It stayed silent for a moment after that. 

Feeling as though he gave up, you began to undress before slipping into your hiking gear. As you unzipped your dress, you felt the panties begin to vibrate again. 

        Your mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape, as you took a seat atop of your bed to spread your legs. The area between your thighs was still tingly from earlier, so the feeling instantly sent you into overdrive. You were a whimpering mess in no time “Fuck, Tony please stop!” You begged. 

“I wanna hear you cum.” He rasped through the door. 

“I’m gonna take them off.” You warned, lying through your teeth. The pleasure felt too damn good. 

“Let me take em off for you, princess.” His words, along with the vibrations against your clit brung you to tears. Now away from unwanted listening ears, you let your moans rip through you as you writhed against the bed. 

“Fuck, baby this feels so good!” You whimpered, when he increased the intensity of the vibrations. Over your mewls, you heard the clinking of a belt unbuckling, shortly followed by the unmistakable sounds of his low, yet rough grunts. 

“I bet I can make you feel better.” He growled. His voice was filled with frustration, desperation, and a man-eating lust that left you drenched in your own slick.

“Oh Tony, s-shit!” You cried, voice quivering with pleasure. You felt your stomach, tighten, and your coil threaten to snap. Your walls fluttered painfully around nothing, as your head fell back. It wasn’t long after that, before your juices drenched the comforter beneath you. It was silent on the other side of the door, and you assumed he came too. Only, you couldn’t hear him trying to catch his breath like you were. It’s like he never broke a sweat. 

You got up slowly, knees a little weak from your second orgasm, to clean yourself up and continue changing. You made sure to rid yourself of those wretched panties while you were at it. 

When you finally opened the door, you were met with an unfazed Tony leaning against its frame. He looked as if nothing happened, despite bringing you to shambles a mere three minutes prior. He directed his attention towards you when you emerged from the room. “Its about time you finished getting ready, I still haven’t changed, yet.” He informed you, winking as he slipped past you.

Fucking bastard. 

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

“You okay?” Tony asked, when he saw your legs give way a bit. Your previous activities still left you a bit sensitive, and as a result: unbalanced. 

“I’m fine.” You assured him as you guys hiked towards the mountain range. The trail was actually within walking distance of your vacation home, so you didn’t need the car to journey through it. 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Tony questioned. His demeanor now was different from his previous one. He was so sweet when he wanted to be. 

“Yes babe. Why do you ask?”

“You seem a bit clumsier than usual.”

“Well I get that way after, you know, sometimes.” You said shyly. You guys hadn’t talked about it yet. 

He formed his lips to say an inaudible “oh”. “I’m sorry. I was being a horny dick earlier. Please be careful.” When he said the words, he made sure to trail behind you. If you were to fall, he felt he could catch you before any damage was done. 

“I’m okay. And its okay.” You paused. “I forgive you, I can be a tease so its not entirely your fault. But thank you for doing this with me.” You smiled sweetly, looking over your shoulder. 

“Of course, princess.” Tony smiled back, grinning from ear to ear.

You looked back up ahead, to continue your hike. 

You guys stopped occasionally when you wanted to take pictures. Whether they were of the view, rare birds, the sea, or Tony, you clicked your camera trying to savor every single moment of the trip. 

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” You said to him, halting in your tracks. “C’mere. This is the perfect spot to take a selfie together.” You came across a view through the trees that overlooked the sea. Mountains were up ahead too, and the sun hit your skin in just the right way. The whole thing just  looked so aesthetically pleasing to you, you just couldn’t pass up the photo op.  

When he neared you, you both positioned yourselves for the camera. Tony was only a few inches taller than you, but you still had to stand on your tippy toes to place your arm around his shoulder. In this case, you wanted to place bunny ears over his head. A combination of this, as well as holding the camera left you quite unbalanced. And as tight as Tony held onto your waist, it still wasn’t enough to keep you both from tumbling down the hill just after you heard the shutter of your camera.

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

He practically kicked down the door of your house when he came upon it. You were draped around his back like a monkey as he jogged you through the living area. 

“Tony put me down.” You begged. 

“Christ Y/N, I told you to be careful.” He reprimanded, as he placed you on your feet, pushing you down on the couch. He ran to the nearest bathroom, ransacking the contents of the medicine cabinet for a first-aid kit. 

When he found all of the necessary supplies, he came rushing back to tend to your wound. If you could even call it that. It was a small bloody scrape on your kneecap, and he acted as if it needed to be amputated if he didn’t treat it soon. 

“Damn it! Is alcohol better, or should I use peroxide? Fuck it, soap and water it is.” He muttered to himself.  His head was all over the place as he ran to go get a small bowl of warm soapy water, returning once it was retrieved. He wanted something that would both clean the cut, but also wouldn’t cause you any pain. 

Getting down to his knees, he tended to the scrape. He took your leg, tenderly into his hands, before going to work.

“Tony, I’m fine.”

He ignored you, continuing his movements with the cotton-ball. You couldn’t help but admire him as he cleaned your knee. The look of dexterity in his face was astounding. It was the same look he’d get, when he worked on a new piece of tech. 

You were beginning to feel guilty. Truthfully, Tony was the one who took the worst end of the fall. He had a cut on the bridge of his nose, and one on his cheek. You even saw his shirt was damp, and a small pool of red liquid was forming underneath. Yet he remained trained on you, determined to make sure you were okay.

“Tony, you’re hurt!” 

“I’m fine.” He insured.

  “But Tony.”

“Baby, I need to concentrate.” He had long stopped the bleeding on your knee, patched it up, and was currently searching for any other wounds. He placed a quick kiss on your bandage. “You okay?” He asked, finally meeting your eyes.

“Yes,—”

“Does anything else hurt?”

“No, but—”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“None. Can I—”

“Are you feeling any shortness of breath? Nausea? Weakness? Dizziness? Chest pain? Because those are all signs of internal bleeding—”

“No, Tony. Please stop. You’re the one who’s bleeding!” It was your turn to treat him, yet he kept rambling on and on about you. You took a cotton pad and got to work on his face. That was when he began sulking.

“This is my fault.”

“No its not.”

“Yes it is. I made you clumsy.”

You chuckled at how dead serious he was. “I have a scrape on my knee, that will be gone in like ten hours. Meanwhile you have a bloody face, and a possible gash on your stomach, and you’re upset about me falling?”

“I just don’t like when you get hurt.”

“I’m fine. I’ve been trying to tell you that.” When you were done with his face, you hunched over to his stomach to patch the scrape there as well. Tony, still placed between your knees, repeated your actions from earlier, this time admiring you. When you were done treating the cut on his stomach, you tried to pull back, but he caught your wrist, trapping you in his gaze. 

You two stayed like that for a moment, before he captured your lips in his. Deepening the kiss, he lifted himself up onto the couch as he did so. He pushed you back so you lay against its length, stretched out completely as he hovered above you. Removing his sweaty t-shirt over his head, he threw it across the room before attacking your lips again. 

He tugged at the drawstring on your shorts, while placing wet kisses along your neck. You laced your fingers in his hair, trying to guide him to where you wanted him, but you didn’t have to do much since he knew all of your spots. 

His right hand pushed your shirt up to expose your bra, before his lips traveled down your skin to lay butterfly kisses in his wake. He pushed between your thighs, draping your legs around his waist. Your breaths were coming out in labored pants, as you realized this was the moment you’ve been waiting for. 

As you were moving against him, you felt an unusual amount of liquid pool to your panties. Then, your eyes which were previously glued shut, snapped open. “Shit.” You shrieked, sitting up with a quickness. It all startled Tony so much, he rolled off of the couch.

“Fuck!” He yelped, when his head collided with the floor. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” Was all you repeated as you scampered away. 

“Ow?” Tony groaned rubbing his head, but when he sat up to question you, he only saw your ankles as you retreated into the bathroom. 

When it slammed shut, he leapt up to his feet to see what the problem was. “Y/N, open up. We can talk about this.” He said, once he reached the doorway. 

“No we cant. Please don’t be mad at me, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I’m the one who’s sorry. We can wait, okay? Just come out please.”

“No Tony. It’s not that, its something else.”

“What is it?” He was met with sobbing, as you began to weep. Trying to open the door, he thought you had hurt yourself, or that he had hurt you, and was now beginning to grow even more worried. “Baby open the door, please.”

“No! You’re gonna hate me.”

“I could never hate you. Please, just tell me what’s wrong!” Tony pleaded, banging on the door. 

“I just started my period” You cried, breaking out into tears. You continued for a minute, until you realized he wasn’t making any noises. “Tony?” 

“I’m still here, pumpkin.” He replied, trying to soothe you. 

“Are you mad at me?” You shrieked.

“Nope. I’m just thinking.” He informed you. 

“About what?” 

“About how much my head hurts.” He chortled. “You could have just told me, without panicking so much.”

“But I—I  ruined our wedding night.” You wailed. 

He scoffed at how silly you were being. “No. You didn’t. Can you come out now? I think I’ve talked to doors enough today.”

“No. I deserve to drown in my tears.”

“Y/N. You’re being ridiculous. Come out.” He demanded once more. 

“No! Just go away. I wanna be alone.” You whined. And so, he did. 

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

1 hour later

Lying in bed, wrapped up in your comforter like a burrito, you soaked the sheets with tears. You had fished out one of your emergency tampons from your purse to clean up, then grabbed a bottle of wine. You’d emerge from the covers every so often to take a sip, but then immediately plunge back under when you were done. 

Tony was gone. That was bad. You knew you had told him to, but you didn’t expect him to actually listen. You weren’t being fair, but you still expected him to just read your mind like the genius he was. Like he usually did. 

It was better this way. I deserve it. You thought. You thought he was pissed at you, as he should be. He had every right to be. No you couldn’t control your period coming earlier than usual, but you could have at least controlled your sour reaction. It was also your fault for constantly denying him. Yes, you wanted to take advantage of all of Kauai’s island fun, but you’d be lying if Nakia’s words didn’t ring in your head. You were nervous to give yourself to him for the first time, and that made you sort of relieved that you still had time to prepare.

You took another swig of your grown up juice, only to quickly scramble back to your cocoon when you heard the front door open and shut. 

“Sweetheart.” You heard Tony faintly call from the other room. When he realized you weren’t in the place he left you, you heard his quick shuffle draw nearer. The closer he drew, the more you encapsulated yourself into the comforter. You told yourself you’d act like you were sleeping, in order to avoid facing him. 

When he entered the room, he called your name again softly, as he took his stance by the side of the bed. He, despite your poor attempts, knew that you couldn’t be asleep in such a position: the heavy bedding would practically suffocate you. 

“Y/N, get up. I brought you a few things.” He informed you. He was met by silence. When he nudged your side, you moaned and groaned like the undead. You heard the plastic of a bag rustle, as he poured its contents all over the bed. He untucked the cover from over your head, and got on the mattress beside you. Stroking your head lovingly, he said a “Hi”, as you reluctantly met his eyes. You peered at him through dewy lashes and puffy eyes. 

He offered you a kind expression before beckoning you to “Sit up.” You did so, and that’s when you saw the arrangement of  feminine hygiene products, candy, ice cream, chips and every other favorite snack of yours. But best of all, was the wine. You retreated back to your burrito, after bawling your face up with sadness. Tony heard your muffled cries through the comforter, as you sobbed out “No one’s ever bought me tampons before!”

“Well that’s sad.” He declared.

You ignored him, wailing “I don’t deserve you” as you let out the ugliest cries you’ve ever heard in your life. 

“Yes you do.” He corrected you, further folding you in your blanket, before picking you up to haul you into the living room. As he threw you over his shoulder, you continued your drunken wails even as he placed you on the couch. He turned on Netflix to the show “friends”, it was something of a ritual to play it whenever you felt bad, and as soon as the theme came on, you started dry-heaving.

You shakily pulled out your unfinished bottle of wine drinking its remains, before grabbing the one Tony bought, as he glared at you like you grew another head. “And I thought I had an alcohol problem.”

“Shut-up, I’m sad.”

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

Almost one week later. 

As the end of your vacation approached, you had been all over the island of Kauai. You experienced all of the joys of a honeymoon, save the sex. 

Every morning, your husband made you breakfast in bed, and made you feel like a princess. Just like from before when you guys dated, he’d bring you flowers with a notecard attached to them on your breakfast tray. 

He really made you forget that you couldn’t have sex, but then he’d remind you the second after when he placed kisses on your shoulders. After breakfast, you guys would get ready for the day ahead. You always did something new. You went kayaking, zip-lining, snorkeling, and an array of other things that you dreaded the end of.

Couples massages were the absolute worst. Every time your period came around, you were a horny mess. So it didn’t help when Tony rubbed warm oil on your back, tenderly massaging it into the skin, while whispering all of the dirty things he was gonna do to you the minute he knew you were ready. His large warm hands would travel particularly low on your back, as he worked out your kinks, pressing kisses onto your spine every now and then. 

You now shivered at that memory, as you gazed at the stage in front of you. Where you were currently, was a live dinner and show. It was your last night in Kauai, and Tony wanted to make it special by bringing you to a place you begged to go, even though he cringed at the idea. Different bands played live “island” music, while couples both danced and cheered from their seats. 

You and Tony were sitting at a far off table, that was mostly away from prying eyes. He was actually enjoying it more than he thought he would. He would kill you if you told his friends that though. While he was enjoying the show, you were sitting still, gazing at him, more quiet the usual. 

You were trying to debate with yourself, on how to tell him your period was over. While you were happy it was gone, butterflies overturned your stomach as you realized tonight might actually be the night. Nakia’s words, still haunted you, as they tended to, and you fought yourself for refusing her pointers. 

“What’s wrong baby?” Tony asked you, pulling you out of your daze. “I thought you wanted to see this show.” 

You tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth before saying “I did. Its just I wanted to thank you for working so hard in order to make me happy.”

“I’d do anything to make you happy.” He said, placing a hand over your knee, giving it a tight squeeze before pulling away, turning his attention back to the show. You caught his hand, however, before it could drop. 

“I have something to tell you. Promise you won’t judge me.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow as he smirked, already ready for where this was going. “I promise.” he affirmed. 

“Okay.” You said, taking in a deep breath. “I wanted to make sure before I told you this, but my period is off. But before you say anything, I just wanted to ask you this: if we decide to take things further tonight, could you please just take it slow with me?”

Tony’s smile faltered, before dropping completely. He thought you were going to say you wanted more fries. “Where is this coming from?” He questioned you, upset that he made you so worried and self-conscious. 

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. You truly felt pathetic as you confessed, “I just know that you probably expect things of me. And its been so long since I’ve done this, I wonder if I even know how to please you. I just want to be enough.” 

Tony sighed, placing a finger on his temple frustratedly. “Aw baby I think you need a drink.” He stated, reaching for the bottle of tequila he ordered for the table. The plan for the night, was to get drunk, act stupid, and pass out wherever the liquid took you. 

He began to pour you a shot to ease your nerves, before speaking again. “Let me be clear about something” he started, the liquid splashing against the glass cup, before he sat the bottle of liquor down on the table. “I don’t expect anything from you, but your permission. Just give yourself to me, and I’ll take care of the rest. And if you wanna wait, like I said before: sex isn’t everything. I’m happy with just you. But, just tell me when you’re ready” He ordered, gazing into your soul. 

You were the first to break eye contact. You sprinkled salt on the side of your hand, licking up its contents soon after. Tony drank in your movements, pupils blown with lust. You washed down your salt with tequila, wincing at the slight burn. Your wince turned into a cringe when you placed a lime wedge between your lips, its juices spilling down your chin. Pouring yourself another shot, you slammed your cup down on the table before abruptly standing up. “Okay, i’m ready.” You proclaimed, practically a new woman with this newfound liquid courage. 

Tony poured himself a shot, before standing too, capturing your waist as he pressed your back firmly against the edge of the table, before lifting you to sit upon it. He pushed open your knees with his legs, bringing himself between them. You looked at him with alarm mixed with confusion. “I didn’t mean here!” You exclaimed, causing him to chuckle. 

He placed a lime wedge between your teeth. “Hold that for me sweetheart” he ordered, sitting you back just far enough to sprinkle salt along your collarbone without it falling. He licked a slow stripe along the skin, where the salt sat. Picking up his shot, he threw it back, before you felt his hot breath fan your lips. As they hovered there for a moment, he rescued the lime wedge from your lips. 

Not satisfied with its taste, he dropped it over your shoulder, going for your lips instead. The kiss was feverish, as his sour yet sweet tongue probed your mouth. You threw one of your hands behind your back to hold your balance, while Tony let his hands run along the length of your body. He squeezed firmly upon reaching one of your breasts, placing his other hand between your thighs. You moaned at the action, lacing your fingers in his hair in your attempts at deepening the connection. 

Tony let his lips trail down your neck, right back to your collarbone, where he tasted remnants of salt. His hand that was placed on your thigh, slid closer, and closer to your entrance, before he dared to hook his fingers between the fabric. 

“Sir!” A man said from behind him, violently tapping his finger on Tony’s shoulder. “You can’t do that here.” 

When you two looked over his shoulder, you realized it was the same waiter from before that you traumatized early on in your trip. He was definitely done with your shit. 

You both let out a chuckle, before Tony turned to you, saying “Lets go home.”

♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ 

Stumbling into the house, Tony kicked the door shut before spinning you to press your back firmly against it. The two of you were desperate to show the other how much you wanted them, in one heated session. He entangled his tongue with yours, roughly making you eat his kisses. Like at the show, he broke the kiss to pepper more along your skin. 

He started with your neck, sucking roughly, immediately causing purple and blue bruises to show in its wake. Then, he moved on to suck and lick at the exposed parts of your breasts. Finally, he fell to his knees bunching up your dress so it stay just above your waist, before ridding you of your panties. You tensed up as he performed the action, taking in a deep breath as he threw one of your legs over his shoulder locking it, and you in place, against the door. 

Before he draped his arm over the leg that was on his shoulder, he gazed up at you, silently asking you of your permission before going any further. “Keep going, please.” You urged, and that was all the push he needed. He offered a small smile, before he attacked your entrance with his tongue. 

He was usually one for foreplay, but you two had been playing that for a year now, so he wasted no time violating your nub. 

You threw your head back against the door, not even bothered by the pain from the thud, as whimpers and mewls escaped your lips. You were far too focused on his slow but firm measures against your body. Tony’s arm around your leg, was in a position where he could hold you in place, and rub harsh circles around your nub at the same time.

He ran his tongue between your folds, licking up the sweet nectar you offered, while he used his other hand to let his fingers invade your insides. 

Bucking and rocking against his face, the pleasure was so intense, you found yourself trying to pull away, but his strong arms held you steady. Your fingers found his hair, and you didn’t know  whether you wanted to pull him closer to you, or tug him further away. He made the decision for you, burying his face deeper into your pussy. 

He took the fingers he used to stretch you out and placed them at your lips, spreading them open, before replacing his thumb with his mouth, sucking harshly at your nub. Your juices dripped down his chin, as you desperately tried to hold on to something. In realization that you were slipping, Tony hooked your other leg over his shoulder, giving him more access to your opening. As you climbed further up the wall, he followed you, determined to keep you from escaping his relentless endeavors. 

You were unable to form any other words besides, Tony, uttering the two syllables every other second. Moans erupted through your chest, tears streamed down your face, and your nails digged into the skin behind his neck, as you chased your orgasm. Working you through it, he licked up the trail of cum, that dripped from your cunt. He groaned against you as if you were the most delicious drink he had ever tasted. 

Placing you gently down onto the ground, he chuckled when he had to catch you from falling. He swiped his thumb across his chin, before licking the remnant of your juices off the pad  of the finger. He moaned at the taste, leaning in to transfer it to your lips. 

He cupped the globes of your ass, as he stuck his tongue down your throat. “Taste that?” He asked between kisses. 

“Yeah.” You half-whispered, trying to keep up with him.

“So fucking sweet.” He replied, in reference to your essence. He then hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around him, before traveling through the house. 

It was your turn to attack his neck as he carried you away to your room. Tony, now completely riled up stood you on your feet, as the two of you ripped away articles of each other’s clothing. He let the straps of your dress, fall as it pooled around your feet.

You were starting to feel self-conscious again, since this was the first time he had seen you so bare. While you were looking down in shame, Tony was ogling at your beauty. “Fuck.” He exclaimed. “How did I get so lucky. You’re an angel.” You smiled sheepishly at his comment, your confidence was slowly coming back. He gently pushed you, so that the back of your knees could collide with the mattress. 

You climbed backwards, pushing yourself under the covers, the remaining bit of shyness making you cover yourself in shame. 

Tony, eyes still remained on you, finished ridding himself of his clothes. When he was done, he lifted up the bottom of the comforter, climbing in at the foot of the bed. He made a few stops along the way, kissing at your legs, thighs, and stomach, before revealing himself from beneath the sheets. He smiled, when you giggled, placing a quick kiss to your mouth. That one turned into a deeper one, as he bit and tugged at your lips. 

He placed himself at your entrance, still kissing your bare skin to ease your mind a bit. He was big, you knew that much, and it kind of made you nervous. Slowly moving forward, he pushed his tip in, teasing your opening, before stretching you completely.

You both groaned at the feeling. Him at your tight fit, and you at the feeling of him inside you completely. As he bottomed out, you released a gasp, which Tony cut off with a kiss. “Tell me when to move, princess.” He said between pecks.

You nodded your head after a moment, unable to form any words, signaling for him to move forward. Tony’s hips instinctively snapped forward at first, but then he slowed his movements on account of this being your first time with him.

Slow thrusts, turned into quick ones, as he pounded into you. Your cries and moans, and the sound of your wetness mixed with his thrusts,  bounced off of the walls. You wrapped your legs around his waist, as he inserted himself in and out of you. His arms that were previously on either side of your face, collapsed as he let his lips attack the crook of your neck. 

Your hands, that fisted the sheets, found his back, clawing at the flesh, as he let out growls from the sting and from the pleasure. 

He picked up his pace, and the closer you got, the dirtier his words were. “Look at you taking my cock like a good girl.” He would whisper in your ear, as he drilled into you. When you would clench your walls around him, he would get nastier. “Oh you like that? You’re so fucking sexy. Are you gonna cum princess? Hmm?” He would question, cupping your jaw as he looked up to peer into your eyes.

You would just moan in response. Your body, and his, becoming drenched in sweat, tears, and who knows what other kind of liquids, as you two stuck together like glue. He became incoherent the wetter you got, and the more your walls fluttered against him, signaling your impending orgasm. 

“F-fuck baby! I-i’m gonna cum!” You managed to choke out, your lower stomach spasming, as you writhed against him, placing a hand against his chest.

Tony said nothing as he slipped in and out of you, hand grasping the hand that was on his chest gripping your wrists, and placing them above your head. He didn’t have to say a word, because his face said it all. His brows were furrowed together, eyes glued shut, sweat soaking his forehead, and mouth hung open as he continued his motions in and out of you. 

If he wasn’t going fast before, his pace was now brutal as he approached his orgasm too. Each stroke was a hit against your g-spot, and a graze against your clit, that had you speaking in tongues. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the closer you came to ecstasy. Your whimpers turned into screams, as your coil snapped. Your orgasm, was Tony’s breaking point, as your pussy had a death grip against his dick. His hips stuttered, and his cock twitched inside of you, as he let out the sexiest grunt you had ever heard, spilling his seed into you. 

He released his grips on your wrists, surely leaving a mark in its wake. He laid his sweaty forehead against yours for a moment, trying to gather his composure. You, too, were gasping for the same air as him.

You both still hadn’t opened your eyes yet, vision too blurry from the stars you were seeing. This man made you experience the most intense orgasm of your life. 

Capturing your lips once more, Tony left a lingering kiss on you. After that, he finally let his eyes open, you followed suit. He smiled and asked, “I can’t believe you were that amazing. And you had the nerve to be worried.”

You spared some of your breath, as you let a laugh. “I didn’t even do anything. I just laid there.” You told him. 

“You can just look at me, and I’ll fall to pieces.” He admitted, which made you erupt into a fit of giggles. 

Still in each other’s embrace, you two recalled the entirety of your relationship, down to this very trip. You recalled the very first moment you told each other your feelings. The moment he met your friends and you his. The time Okoye threatened to kill him for almost forgetting your favorite color. The time you tripped in your wedding dress. Even the time you fell down a hill a mere 5 days ago. And he would absolutely not, let you forget the moment you burst out crying because he bought you wine and tampons.  

Laughing, and blushing over some of the silliest moments in your relationship, you promised that though it was bittersweet, you were your happiest when you were with him. 

“Now, that we've warmed up,” Tony started, cheeky smile forming on his lips. “Are you ready to try out some of those new toys?” 

A/N: You guys should like...tell me what you think :) 

[juniorgman187]

Love & Other Drugs (Reid Fic) Part 2

Summary: Reid’s addiction is proven to stand in the way of many things, including his and Reader’s first kiss.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Season 2/ Season 3 Spencer Reid Category: Mini-series, Angst Word Count: 4k Content Warning: Allusions to addiction, fear of flying

PART 1 HERE!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

It took all of me not to pay attention to the way Spencer led me through the park by holding my hand, but my heart was beating like a hammer against cloth. I fear he might’ve even heard it thumping out of my chest whenever he’d look over his shoulder and make sure I was still there behind him. There was always a small smile that followed his action, a physical manifestation of his joy when he looked back and saw me already looking at him, too.

Was this the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde duality I was suspicious of witnessing on the first day we met? Because I assure you, if you had told me that the guy I met that day was capable of taking me to a silent film in a field, I wouldn’t have believed you, much less that I’d agree - even want - to go. Even now, I’m not sure this feels real. 

“This is a good spot, right? It’s equidistant from the car to the scree-”

“It’s perfect.” I quickly shut him up with a lighthearted laugh. 

He sighed happily and released my hand for a brief moment to lay down the blanket for us to sit on. At first when we sat down, we were both too shy to be too close. 

Here again, Spencer saw our glaring similarities peeking through. Not just in our mutual bashfulness, but in the way we were sitting; both of our legs were outstretched in front of us as we leaned back on our hands. 

In a pure-of-heart manner, I felt Spencer extend his pinky to graze over mine. That was the extent of our physical touch, but even with as little of an action as it was, it still gave me more butterflies than any hand-holding, hug, or kiss ever had. That’s how magical his touch was ... how magical he was. 

Had I not been observing him from my peripherals, I might’ve not noticed his relentless staring. I calculated it later on, but I think he watched me more than he watched the movie. I would even argue that he looked at me like the whole world could crumble and still, he wouldn’t blink. 

It was somewhere in the climax of the film, where Spencer leaned in, and I followed suit, taking his sudden movement as an indication that he was going to whisper something in my ear. 

“Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance,” After a minute of confusion, I quickly realized he was vocalizing the dialogue of the silent movie. “They only know it feels right to be with one another.”

Though this was a direct quote from the film, it felt like he was speaking it right to me, and I had to think that there was some sort of special significance to this statement, otherwise why would it be the only one he chose to say out loud out of all the inaudible verses he could’ve chosen from? 

Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance. They only know it feels right to be with one another. I recited in my head. 

I’d already been looking at him, but now, I was actually seeing him. 

I think my soul recognized his. 

My eyes unintentionally fell to his lips, giving him the green light to lean in even closer. There was nearly no distance between us; I could feel his breath fanning over my mouth, but right as I inclined forward, a drop of water ran down my cheek. It shocked me and made me recoil backward, seizing the distance I advanced. 

All at once, many more drops of rain came, earning squeals and yelps from the crowd. Chaos erupted in the form of abandoned blankets, a dampening film screen, and squelching grass under the pitter patter of a hundred running feet. With ardent conviction, Spencer took my hand so we could run to the car to escape the rain beating down on us. I heard him laugh and it made me do just the same. We were so happy just running in the rain. 

“Get in! Get in!” Spencer shrieked as he opened my door to slide me into the passenger seat. It didn’t go unnoticed that he still took the time to be a gentleman despite the chaos of the storm. 

We were both audibly breathless when he finally got into the car, our panting steaming up the car and casting fog on all surrounding windows. 

“Oh god,” I sighed when I examined the state of my stringy hair in the visor’s mirror. 

The sound of rain relentlessly pelting the windshield, sounding more like heavy hail than delicate drops of water, mixed with the sound of our breathlessness as the adrenaline coursed through our veins. I looked over at Spencer to see his cheeks flushed red from the running and how his hair had been dampened into wet curls and I had laughed. 

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He innocently asked. 

“No, no I’m not laughing.” I said, while laughing. 

“Yes, you are! Why? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, you’re just so …” My voice faded out upon the realization that we were exactly as we were before the rain started to fall - centimeters apart. 

There was nothing I wanted more than to kiss him, and I actually might’ve after he gently caressed my face while drawing me nearer. We both shut our eyes in preparation for what we thought would be the world’s greatest, most addictive kiss, but I felt myself draw back and hesitate. It was on instinct; a completely separate motion from my mind, but my body did it anyway, as if it knew something that my mind didn’t. 

“Okay, okay - we don’t have to kiss.” He instantly surrendered, pulling away completely. 

“No, no it’s not that. I did want to kiss you.” I said with utter frustration at myself for ruining the moment like that, especially because I didn’t even mean to back out, I just did. 

“But?”

But I needed to figure out my feelings before I toyed with his. 

I couldn’t kiss him because it would’ve been selfish. It would’ve been a careless action in the heat of the moment and it would’ve told him that I had romantic feelings for him and that I always had, but I didn’t know if that was really true. I mean, originally, I wasn’t spending time with him because I liked him like that - I was spending time with him because I was stubborn, and curious, and combative, and everything he didn’t deserve. And while my feelings may have changed, maybe into something more genuine, I never wanted to lead him on - even if I did feel the same way. 

He is such a good guy, and I would’ve brought ruin upon him even further. 

“But um, if we stay in our wet clothes any longer, we’ll probably get sick.” I told him, lying right through my teeth. 

He seemed to accept this as an answer, but this determination was based off of my limited perception of him, considering he was well on his way to driving out of the parking lot before I could look at him any further. 

The air was colder now, and not just because of the heavy rainfall. There was clearly a shift in our dynamic, probably because he didn’t know how to act around me anymore, but still, I made no attempts to change that. I think I was just as confused as he was and any more muddling of the situation on my part would’ve only made things worse. It was better that I left things alone this time. 

“Thank you. For the ride.” I awkwardly chirped when he dropped me off; this was the first words spoken the entire duration of the car ride. 

He pursed his lips once more into a thin line, and this time I recognized that this wasn’t a smile. “No problem.” 

Something in me was tethering me to this car and it wouldn’t let me leave. 

I had to tell him. 

“Hey, Spencer?” I glanced over my shoulder with my hand still on the interior car handle. “I’m sorry.” 

He shook his head almost with a laugh. “Don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong.” 

And maybe he was being truthful, maybe he was being so incredibly honest, but a part of me just couldn’t believe that he was sincerely okay with my denial of his kiss. But then again, maybe it was me who wasn’t sincerely okay with the denial of his kiss. 

There were words still left unspoken hanging in the air, but neither I, nor him, decided to vocalize them. Maybe in some way, we already knew. 

In one swift motion, I opened the door and left his car while the rain drummed on me.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t stall my walk a little just to avoid reaching a distance too far from his car to hear him call out a protest to stop. Maybe I was even waiting for him to join me in the rain, as hopelessly romantic as that sounds. 

“(Y/n)?” 

Like an expectant animal, my ears perked up when I heard Spencer call out my name over the hood of the car. “Yes?” 

He looked down briefly before mustering up the courage to say, “I’m sorry, too.” For what reason he was apologizing, I didn’t know.

“Why?”

“I was a jerk to you the first day I met you and you didn’t deserve that.” He finished his sentence, but I could tell there was something more he wanted to say. If he had said it, I imagine he would’ve finally admitted what we both couldn’t stop thinking about. 

His addiction. 

“You’re forgiven,” I lightheartedly laughed with the hope that he understood there was nothing I needed to truly forgive him for. 

As quickly as he must’ve exited his car, he just as quickly re-entered it. With his voice and mine banned from speaking, the sound of the storm was almost loud enough to drown out the sound of Spencer’s car driving away before I’d even reached my door - almost. It was then that I turned over my shoulder to observe his yellow headlights glowing against the world’s grayness, but the warm yellow slowly disappeared behind his harsh red back lights as he drove off. The poignant red of his back lights was all the more a reminder that he was leaving me, and that I was alone. It was such an empty feeling. 

As I stood in the rain watching him drive away, I grew more and more disgusted with myself. I should’ve stopped him from leaving. I should’ve said everything I wanted to. 

Just then when I came to that very realization, a frigid gust of wind nearly knocked me over. Nature’s cruel irony had never been so apparent to me until this moment. 

You’ll understand why storms are named after people. 

And I was his. 

_ _ _ 

The Behavior Analysis Unit in Quantico is requesting your presence. The email read. 

There’s a name I hadn’t seen in a while - the B.A.U. It’d been what - almost a year now? I hadn’t seen or heard from Spencer since our poorly-ending-movie-date, hence why I bitterly laughed at my screen as I swirled a red sucker in my mouth. “As you wish, Your Highness.” 

Fully expecting to see my station - and only my station - when I leaned forward off my desk, I turned around only to be met with my station and something else. 

Or should I say someone else?

Because Spencer was there, too. 

“Spencer!” I nearly choked on the lollipop that was now loosely hanging from my mouth after my ceaseless coughs successfully dislodged it from my throat. He chuckled in pure amusement at my reaction. At last, when my cough subsided, I was finally able to croak out the question, “What are you doing here?” 

While I waited for his answer, I took his pause as an opportunity to really grasp him in his new form. His hair was much longer than I remembered it being, and it sure had a lot less hair gel, too. He also looked much better, and by that I mean, he didn’t read so much as an addict anymore. His appearance wasn’t untidy anymore, his fidgeting and anxiousness had withered away, and if I didn’t know any better, I think this was a good sign. 

He wasn’t addicted to whatever he was addicted to anymore. 

Of course, he answered my question before I had the chance to breach the subject. “I thought I saw a sign outside the door prohibiting food inside the lab.” 

His eyes turned to slits as a physical display of his sarcasm while he walked around the station to meet me on the other side but with a tantalizingly slow pace. With every word he said, he inched closer and closer until finally, we were so close that I could actually smell his cologne. “Unless, of course, I’m mistaken, and this lollipop is currently under examination.” 

It was unlawful how he could pull off saying something so nerdy. He had no right to sound as sexy as he did. 

“Ooh, yes. Talk dirty to me, Doctor.” I purred jokingly, pulling him in by the fabric of his tie. Even he couldn’t keep up his cool guy act in the face of my jest. He laughed before he could even think not to.

“You’re ridiculous,” He shook his head. “And a bad girl.”

Again - that should not have sounded as sexy as it did. 

“Is this how you fulfill your need for excitement? By sneaking suckers into your lair and breaking the rules.” His tone was thick with playful mockery, but the kind where it wasn’t as offensive as it was just to make fun.

“For your information - this job is plenty exciting enough as it is. Especially whenever a Doctor sneaks into my lab.” 

He caught the reference of himself but didn’t bother entertaining it with a laugh. He couldn’t keep his eyes on mine long enough to disguise the way he persistently stared. He was still too focused on the inner workings of my mouth and the candy. It was rather entertaining, if I do say so myself. I could even see the gears in his brain turning. He was clearly formulating something according to the display of squinted eyes and knitted brows. 

My suspicions were confirmed when all of a sudden, he firmly pinched my chin with his index finger and thumb to pucker my lips enough to create a small opening for him to successfully rob my mouth of the sweet. 

“Hey!” I whined. “I wasn’t done eating that!” 

Dominance gleamed in the sheen of his narrow eyes. He was enjoying this. “You are now.” 

My childish pout and grumpy expression asked him to tell me why. To which he answered, “Because we’ve got a flight to catch.” There were so many questions I had. We? A flight? Luckily, I needn’t verbalize them because he answered me anyway. 

“I rode on the jet to pick you up and take you back to Virginia.” 

I lightly scoffed, not actually believing what he was saying was true. “And how’d you manage that?” 

Though I was skeptical, Spencer went on to explain that the team needed me immediately, so they were willing to fly me to Virginia on the jet, but it would be best if one of them escorted me. Seeing as Spencer was more my equal than anyone else, they thought he would be the best flying companion - hence, the flight we were catching. It wasn’t until then that I actually believed him. 

Would you believe it if I told you we were up in the sky in less than 30 minutes? It’s almost as if this was their routine. I’d bet they had grown accustomed to the hectic energy and keeping up with the rush that their jobs demanded, but as a toxicologist, I was taught that taking my time was for the better. I had yet to get used to the fast pace of the B.A.U, which manifested itself in the worst form possible - fear of flying. 

Truthfully, I’d never actually been on a plane before, let alone a jet. I’m sure Reid could tell you a whole heck of a lot more about it, but common sense is that private jets are faster than regular commercial airlines. Jets are specifically built for speed and efficiency. Not to mention they fly at higher cruising altitudes to avoid airline air traffic. So currently flying on the jet meant that I’d entirely skipped the baby step of a regular plane ride that would’ve eased me into this experience - I was jumping right into the deep end. 

Leave it up to the profiler across from me to notice the way I clutched my seatbelt that I couldn’t trust would protect me, or the way I would grip the armrest when we inevitably experienced turbulence, or the deliberate avoidance of the view out the window so I wouldn’t have to confront the realization of just how high up we were. 

“Bad flyer?”

“Yes and no. Yes because I’m terrified of heights, and no, because I’ve never actually been on a plane before, so I haven’t been on enough flights to earn such a title,” my voice quivering as I spoke. 

His eyes widened with visible shock. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he almost didn’t believe me. “You’ve never been on a plane before?”

“Never.” 

“Ever?”

“Never.” 

Something like a laugh escaped him. “Well you know what that means?” 

I couldn’t be bothered to entertain his mind games so I bluntly questioned, “No, what does it mean?” 

“A fear of flying indicates deep-rooted issues of control - or lack thereof. Do you like to be in control?” His words were testing me. He didn’t actually want to know if I liked being in control, he just wanted me to admit to my weakness. 

And it was somewhere in his teasing that a button must’ve been pressed because what I said next could only be the actions of someone who’d reached their breaking point - someone completely ruthless. “Well, you’re not so perfect yourself, Doctor. We still have yet to talk about the elephant in the room.” Again, I never handled things with much grace, but this by far - was something that I shouldn’t have touched with my tactless hands. 

Spencer wasn’t dumb - he knew what I was talking about, and he knew that I knew he would know what I was talking about, so luckily, he spared us the time and didn’t bother playing dumb. “Yeah, I know,” He bashfully whispered, making me feel all the more guilty about bringing it up. 

“I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that I noticed you look a lot healthier since the last time I saw you, and I was gonna mention something to you about it in a much nicer way, but it just came out of my mouth right now.” 

“I am doing better. I quit completely 10 months ago.” He explained. (Oh, I stand corrected. It hadn’t been a year since I’d last seen him - just 10 months ago). “But, um . . .” 

Those two words alone were enough to make me prepare for the worst. 

“Recently, I saw this … this kid get shot in front of me,” His voice grew weary. “I thought I could save him, but I didn’t and he died. Right in front of me. And ever since then, I’ve been having - in the literature of the program - what they call ‘cravings’.”

I responded all too quickly, I knew that. I probably should’ve waited, came up with something more sympathetic, but instead, my brain went into autopilot and I asked the most unsympathetic thing you could possibly ask an addict. “Are you getting any help? Like from a professional. I’m not talking about meetings, I’m talking about -”

“Why do you do that?” He cut in. It wasn’t until I heard his voice interrupt my own that I looked at him and saw his countenance. He was pissed. “Why do you always try to fix me?”

This blow to my ego shattered my heart and hardened my defensiveness. “What? What are you talking about? I’m not trying to fix you.” 

He rose from his seat with such speed that I nearly got a head rush from it and couldn’t understand how he didn’t. 

“You’ve been trying to fix me since the day we met!” His voice boomed to a decibel I didn’t recognize. I’d never seen him so angry or so loud before. If I had to make a bet, the pilot could hear exactly what he’d just said - clear as day, as if he was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat right next to him.

With just as much rage, I unbuckled my belt, and for the first time in this entire plane ride, I stood up from my seat - just so I could be equal to him, to show him he shouldn’t dare try to talk down to me. Not after everything that I’ve felt for him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather I do what your team did? Just pretend your addiction didn’t exist? Walk on eggshells every hour I’m with you? Avoid and ignore every sign? I mean it worked out pretty well, right? Considering a year later, you're still having cravings.” I knew that I’d just crossed multiple lines with my blatant sarcasm, with my insulting of his team and insulting of him. I undoubtedly touched a nerve, but he visibly bit his tongue back before he said something he might regret. 

“Spencer, do you realize that this would be the reaction of anyone watching somebody they love struggle with addiction?” I could see a shift in his demeanor at one point during my sentence. His shoulders relaxed; something I said softened him, but I wouldn’t even come to realize what it was until he pointed it out later. With his silence taken as an allowance to continue, I added, “I pity you if you think that I’m overreacting, because really, I’m doing what everyone in your life should’ve been doing if they really cared about you.”

“You love me?” 

His question seemed so random, so out-of-the-blue, that I wondered where that was evening coming from. In the heat of our argument, I hadn’t even caught my own freudian slip.

“You said, ‘this would be the reaction of anyone watching somebody they love struggle with addiction.’ Are you saying you love me?”

It was probably the first time in this entire discussion that I actually paused to think, but all I could think to do was deflect. It was the only way to spare myself the humiliation. So without a better response, I asked, “So what if I do? That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes a lot, (y/n).” 

“Oh, really - what does it change?” I challenged. 

“Now, I can finally do this.”

He pulled me in so fast I didn’t have time to think, let alone register that his lips had just collided with mine, or that I was consciously kissing him back. To deepen the kiss, he tilted his head to the side and even sneaked his tongue into my mouth when I parted my lips to breathe the air I was being deprived of. The lack of oxygen to my brain from the way he was swallowing me whole was enough to make me dizzy and lightheaded, and more than enough to make me lose all inhibitions. 

After a year, excuse me, after 10 months, of waiting for the kiss, of waiting for the right moment, or prolonging it while it simultaneously lingered over our heads, we finally kissed. At last, we released the anguish, the desire - everything. We were kissing like we’d never kissed before in our lives and were desperately anxious to know the feeling, and in some ways, that was sort of true. 

So if love really is an addiction, then consider me addicted.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

taglist: 

@rexorangecouny @criminal-jive @andiebeaword @annesauriol @nymeria-targaryen @shae2001bts @sweetboyspencer @archiveofadragon @inkstainedgirl 

[n0wornever]

I Miss You - Julie x Fem!Reader

Julie x fem reader where reader is most definitely a giant f girl- she does weed and crap but she’s like hopelessly in love with julie who wants nothing to do with her.....”

Disclaimer: Not going to lie, I struggled with this one. Substance abuse is a hard topic to write without making the relationship unhealthy (I know weed isn’t that bad, but you know what I mean), so I kind of put a spin on this request.  I hope you still like it :) 

Julie Molina knew one thing: You can’t force anyone to change. 

That’s why she merely sat in the background as she watched her ex-girlfriend make a fool of herself in the middle of this party. 

Y/N and Julie had been friends since elementary school, and dated for a year up til last January. It was that winter that the older girl started hanging out with a less than savory crowd who convinced her to take up habits that Julie just couldn’t approve of. The third time the girl had shown up to her house, in front of her family, reeking like whisky, Julie told her to leave and that she didn’t want to see her again.

The girl took it to heart, and Julie hadn’t heard from her since. However, she had seen the girl spiral from afar. Every party they were both at, Y/N was destined to go home so drunk after flirting with some girl all night in the corner of the room. She normally ended the night blacked out or so high that she could barely formulate a sentence. Although it hurt to watch someone she used to love fall flat on her face, Julie knew it wasn’t worth the risk of taking her problems on, atop of her own when the girl clearly didn't want to stop herself. 

Y/N grabbed the waist of the girl next to her, and Julie watched as the girl who was clearly off-balance to begin with, tried to lean into the other’s ear with a smirk on her face. The two girls went toppling down as Y/N could barely stand. Julie sighed, setting her drink on the table and rushing toward the scene.

Michael, a guy from her 4th period chemistry class, helped the other girl up, pushing Y/N to the side in the process. Julie gave him a pointed glare as she reached for her former girlfriend’s wrist. 

“Come on, Y/N, it’s time to go home.” 

The girl looked up at her with drooping eyelids, swaying softly side to side. Another boy assisted Julie in getting the girl to stand up right, wrapping her arm around his neck. The boy helped usher Y/N to Julie’s passenger side seat. Julie thanked the boy and he waved as he ran back toward the house. 

As she got into the car, she took a look at her passenger. Y/N was knocked out cold, leaning against the frosted window. Julie bit down on her lip as she watched her cheek slide down the glass. The younger girl removed her jacket, leaning over toward the other seat. She lifted Y/N’s head for a moment to place the soft fleece between her and the bitter cold material. 

She put the car in drive and then pushed quickly down the street. As she approached Y/N’s house, she felt her heart rate pick up as she searched up and down the driveway. She saw that both parents cars were gone, a stroke of luck she’d begged for silently on their drive there. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door to the frigid cold. She rubbed her hands together for warmth as she walked over to the other side carefully, watching for patches of ice.

She softly knocked on the window to jar the girl’s eyes opened. Y/N lifted her head off the window, staring over at Julie with puffy eyes. Julie pursed her lips as she opened the door. Y/N stared at the girl as her breath came out in a cloud of frozen air. 

“Y/N, come on, let’s go.” 

The girl moved her head enough to slightly nod, and took Julie’s hand. It took a moment, but she was able to stabilize herself on the slippery ground as the two walked over to the front door. Julie knew the girl wasn’t coherent enough to find her keys, so the girl reached across, placing her hand in Y/N’s front pocket. 

“Getting a little fresh there, Molina,” She slurred, Julie feeling her hot breath on her neck. 

Julie found the keys, and pulled them out of the jean pocket. When she met the girl’s gaze again, she rolled her eyes at her. 

“You wish, Y/N.” 

Y/N chuckled, leaning onto Julie’s side as she opened the door. They both stepped inside the warmth awaiting inside the front door, and Julie set the keys on the ring above the shoe rack. She shifted Y/N’s grip on her neck and moved toward the stairs. 

The two waddled back and forth up the first flight before Julie stopped to rest. She took a few deep breaths before pushing on and making it through the last seven stairs to get to Y/N’s top-level room. She grabbed the knob and threw the wooden frame open. She moved quickly to get the girl to the bed and set her down carefully on it. 

Julie met her barely open eyes for a moment before leaning down to her legs. She unbuckled the huge black boots the girl wore and threw them to the side. She stood back up and stared down at the girl who was practically sleeping in front of her.

“Y/N, you’re ready for bed,” She tapped on the girl’s thigh to get her attention. “Crawl up into the covers.” 

The girl grunted, moving on her knees toward the headboard. Julie monitored her movements as she found the blankets and curled underneath them. Julie gave the room a once over before waving at Y/N, who was already snoring. She giggled to herself for a moment before turning toward the door. 

The next morning, Julie awoke to a knock on her window. She rubbed her eyes, pushing off her plushy red comforter to crawl off of her mattress. She made her way over to the window and stopped just short of it, staring at the bushy hair and tired eyes of the girl on the other end. She rubbed her eyes again, blinking twice to make sure her vision wasn’t tricking her.

“Y/N,” She whispered to herself, leaning forward to unlatch the window.

As soon as the open air hit her room, the girl came tumbling in. Julie suppressed a laugh as the tall girl fell to the floor with a bang. Y/N stood up quickly, dusting herself off and giving Julie a sheepish look.

“She’s never been graceful,” Julie said, as she crossed her arms at her chest. 

Y/N regained her balance and stood in front of Julie. She rolled her eyes at her smirk and leaned back to shut the window. As she girls met eyes again, the older one rubbed the back of her neck nervously. 

“I just...I wanted to stop by and apologize for last night.”

Julie rose an eyebrow in surprise, “Do you even know what happened last night?” 

“Ruben told me you brought me home, and-” She sighed before saying the last part. “There were videos of....my actions last night all over Snapchat.”

She clasped her hands together, staring at the ground for a moment. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that....again.” 

“It’s fine we’re not even-” 

“Friends, dating, whatever anymore, I know.” 

Julie bit back her next statement as she watched the girl’s nervous gaze meet hers again.

“I still want to apologize.” 

Julie rubbed her forehead in frustration, shaking her head at the girl.  

“I just, for one night I wish you could have fun without getting drunk or something and numbing out the whole night,” Y/N met her eyes and hers widened. “I just... I miss you Y/N, but seeing you like that, I...I can’t even think about even being your friend again.” 

“I know,” the girl said softly, fidgeting with her hands at her waist. “I miss you too. I...I wish I knew why I did the things I do too. My mom was right, you were the best influence on me.” 

“Shirly knows a thing or two,” Julie let a soft smile grace her lips as she watched the other girl’s nervous movements.

“She knew I didn’t deserve you.” 

A silence hung in the air as Julie’s eyes drifted over toward the corner of the room. Their breakup had been dramatic and brutal. There had been yelling and crying for over an hour. 

“You’re trying to control me,” Y/N hissed, pulling away from Julie’s grip.

“I’m trying to stop you from consistently poisoning yourself,” Julie bit back, fists balling at her sides. 

“You sound 85 years old, Jules. I’m just drinking with friends.”

“Every night? Y/N, no 17 year old should black out every Tuesday night for a month. It’s not healthy. You’re being stupidly irresponsible and I refuse to pick up the pieces again.”  

Y/N stared at her as Julie started to shake. Tears fell from the young girl’s eyes as she ran over to her bed and fell to the mattress in a curled ball. Y/N couldn’t stand looking at her so upset. She opened her mouth to say something, but retracted it last minute, walking out of the room. 

Even looking back at that moment sent shivers down Julie’s spine as she stood in front of the girl yet again. This time, Y/N was much calmer, sober and seemingly sincere. She took in her red eyes and her disheveled hair and tried not to walk up and run her fingers through it to fix it for her. Instead, she held her hands at her sides and waited for what the girl would say next.

“Julie, I know there’s nothing that I can say to make this better,” Y/N rubbed her hand against her cheek as she cocked her jaw. “But I want you to be proud of me again.” 

Those words shot through her system in a millasecond. She felt her heart physically pinch in her chest as she tried to take a breath out. She finally found the strength to shake her head.

“You should do this for you first, Y/N. Take care of yourself for you.” She took a step toward the girl, holding her hand out to her. Y/N hesitated, but grabbed it and intertwined their fingers. “It’s clear that you want out of this, or you wouldn’t be here telling me that.” 

Julie squeezed her palm, smiling up at her with wide eyes. 

“You deserve that, I promise.” 

Y/N let a small smile roll across her lips. “My biggest cheerleader, even when she hates my guts.” She brought Julie’s hand up to her lips and kissed the top of it quickly. 

“Thanks Jules.”

The girl let go of her hand and moved back toward the window. She unlatched the lock and pulled the glass open. As she stepped outside, she leaned back over and smiled at the girl who watched her leave. Julie’s curls fell to the left side as she tilted her head. A small grin plastered on her face as she gave Y/N a small wave. She nodded before disappearing out of sight, closing the window behind her. 

.

.

.

.

Tag list: @marinettepotterandplagg​​ @lukeys-giggle​​  @xplrreylo​​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​​ @bathtimejish​​  @bookfrog247​​  @dasexydevitt13​​ @musicconversedance​​ @txrii​​ @bestdressedandstressed​​ @daisiesforlacey​​ @epikskool​​  @themaddies-obx​​ @jukeobsessedgirl​​  @writerinlearning​​​ @dani27297 @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall​

[lavendertales]

Idk if you still want requests, and if you don’t please feel free to ignore this. Id love something cute and fluffy with Oberyn. Maybe something like the reader has a hige crush on him and doesnt know how to go about so they get him flowers and chocolates and trinkets and stuff in an attempt to ~romance~ him.

Yes, I’m still taking requests! AND THIS ONE oh my GOD I love this prompt so so much!!

gif: @pedro-pscal 

You spotted prince Oberyn Martell from the very first day he set foot in King’s Landing. 

It was impossible not to notice him, really: his bronze skin, covered with that flowy, yellow gown caught the eye really fast, but more so, his gaze was what ultimately made you find out, to your utter surprise and dismay, that you had caught serious feelings for the man.

The way he spoke, the way he walked and the way he smiled, brighter and kinder than the sun, were among your favorite attributes about prince Oberyn. You spent a large portion of your days gazing fleetingly and carefully down his way, blushing even to be in the same room as him whenever Tyrion or Cersei required your services. 

And you heard stories. Stories of how much of a generous lover he was, with men and women alike, how wonderful and attentive and passionate he was in the intimacy of his chambers, and your mind began to wonder soon enough.

But what you did not wish for, under any circumstance, was to be another forgettable face in a crowd to him.

So you began to ponder over a potential gift of some sort that would let Oberyn know you were truly not like the rest. It was a difficult task. What could someone offer to a prince that was valuable and personal enough to let him know you admire him from afar, but that it hasn’t already been offered before?

He was a prince of Dorne. Surely there have been many offerings made to him throughout his lifetime and anything seemed futile or repetitive to you. 

But one day, when you were at a market in the city’s center, you smelled the most wonderful flowers. They were purple and pink, and you were fairly certain you haven’t saw or smelled them before, but you bought a large bouquet. Then, a woman drawn you closer to her and offered you a taste of something called chocolate, a delicacy that was yet to be distributed throughout the Seven Kingdoms. You never tasted anything sweeter and you immediately bought a few pieces, your mind once again thinking of Oberyn.

As luck would have it, as you rushed through the market back to the palace and thinking of a good excuse to summon the prince’s presence, who should run into you but said prince?

“I apologize, I was only - “

You froze, eyes meeting with Oberyn’s for the first time. Your heart fluttered in your chest, your tongue refused to spit any words that might justify your lack of attention. But there you were, flabbergasted and staring hopelessly at Oberyn. His eyes were even kinder and warmer up front, and the moment he flashed a coy smile at you, you knew you were a goner.

“No harm done,” he reassured you, eyes taking all of you in.

“I apologize sincerely, your Grace, I was rushing, I was not paying attention.”

“There’s no need to worry. Do you have a name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. It fits you very well, if I may say so.”

You felt your face burn, redden within seconds, and you grasped the flowers tightly at your chest. Obery noticed them immediately.

“Where were you rushing to, Y/N?”

“The - the - the palace. I was... actually, I was hoping that... I would see you, your Grace.”

Oberyn raised his brows in surprise, smile still lingering on his lips.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I was... well, I bought the flowers and these... for you.”

You felt silly at the gesture, but Oberyn was actually impressed. He had never been given flowers from any of his suitors, much less someone as pretty as you, and curiosity struck him as he noticed the little bag in your hands.

“What is that?” he asked, and you showed him the content.

“It’s chocolate, your Grace. A sweet delicacy that many have yet to taste. I thought it might appeal to you.”

Beyond impressed, Oberyn took a piece of said chocolate, placing it on the tip of his tongue and, under your observant and longing glare, the piece disappeared in his mouth. A few moments later, Oberyn groaned with pleasure.

“This is indeed a delicacy,” he confirmed, eyes stuck on you.

“I’m very glad you enjoy it, your Grace.”

“Please. Call me Oberyn. I have the feeling I’ll be seeing more of you from now on.”

“M-More of me?”

“Absolutely. How about I escort you to the palace and you tell me all about yourself, my pretty?”

[darlingandmreames]

All My Reckless Dreams and My Restless Hours

(also on ao3)

Prompt: travel and All My Love by George Ezra

Summary:  What he and Arthur had was casual, nothing more. Eames knew that. But at some point it had stopped being just a hookup to him and started being something...more. And Eames didn't know what to do with that

@arthureamesmonth

“God I missed this.”

Eames opened his eyes and looked over. Arthur’s voice was slightly breathless and he looked wonderfully disheveled, his face still flushed and relaxed. Eames reached out, fingers brushing Arthur’s shoulder slightly, and Arthur opened his eyes, turning his head to look at him with a small smile. No matter how many times Eames saw that smile, it still managed to catch him off guard every time. It was so different from his normal one. Happier. More intimate. Almost shy even. “It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?”

Arthur hummed in agreement and moved in closer. Eames shifted to give him space as he curled up next to him, head resting on Eames’ chest and arm draped across his body. “Mm. Too long.”

Eames had been surprised at first at how physically affectionate Arthur was- he’d certainly never struck Eames as the type to enjoy cuddling, and it wasn’t exactly something he associated with hooking up- but he’d quickly come to expect it. It was nice, honestly. A glimpse at a side of Arthur Eames doubted he let many people see. Eames turned his head and stared out the broad windows at the skyline, running his hand absentmindedly through Arthur’s hair. He could see why Arthur had insisted on this hotel; the view was phenomenal, the glittering lights of Seoul spreading out to the horizon far below them. It would look beautiful in the morning, too, as the sun rose. It was something to look forward to; Eames knew his jet lag meant he'd almost certainly be awake for it. He'd only gotten in that morning and his body was still very much on Mumbai time, so an early morning was all but guaranteed. 

"How long is your job?"

"Not long. Probably only a week or two." 

Arthur shifted against him. "That's quite short."

"It's a simple one, and most of the ground work's already been laid by the rest of the team honestly. I'm just coming in for the finishing touches." Eames shrugged, careful not to move too much. Arthur seemed to have settled quite comfortably against him, and he hated being moved once he was settled. "How long'll you be staying in town?"

"Not sure yet. There are a couple of jobs I could take, but I don't have anything concrete set up yet."

Eames nodded, not looking away from the distant lights of the skyline. He'd hoped they might have more than a few days together, but he knew the odds of that were slim. Outside of working a job together they were rarely in the same place together for long. Working in extraction meant almost always being on the go, hopping from country to country, continent to continent, job to job. The excitement of being constantly moving, of seeing the world from first class seats and penthouse hotel rooms, had been one of the things that had drawn him into the field in the first place. A few nights together, if that, was generally the most they could manage, but it wasn't like that was a surprise. And besides, it wasn’t like they were actually seeing each other. A couple nights was more than enough for a hookup. It was perfectly fine.

Or at least it had been. Until he’d started to notice that he missed Arthur after they went their separate ways. He didn’t just miss the sex, either, though he did definitely miss that too. He missed Arthur’s company. Missed his dry humour and sarcastic comments. Missed waking up next to him. He’d started looking for excuses for them to cross paths, reasons for them to be in the same city for even just a night or two. He honestly hadn’t even been that interested in the job he was about to start and probably would’ve turned it down normally. It was in Seoul though, and he’d known Arthur was going to be finishing up a job there right around then. So he’d accepted it, interest be damned. 

He knew it was stupid of him to do. He was putting in far more effort than the occasional hookup was worth. But every time he told himself he’d stop, that he’d go back to treating what they had as casual because that’s what it was, he remembered what it felt like to have Arthur curled against him like this. How it felt to have Arthur smile at him as they laid in bed together. And then he found himself asking Arthur about his upcoming jobs as nonchalantly as he could manage, looking for an excuse for them to meet up even though he knew it would just hurt more when they parted ways again afterwards. It seemed to get harder each time, and Eames had no doubt it would be the same when they said their goodbyes again in a day or two. He focused on the distant, crisscrossing lines of the city streets outside, trying to ignore the creeping tendrils of sadness in his chest at the thought of it. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hm?” Eames glanced down, startled out of his thoughts.

“You’re weirdly quiet and tense.” Arthur was tracing abstract patterns gently over Eames’ skin. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m just…just tired, that’s all.”

“Mm.” Arthur traced the outline of one of Eames’ tattoos lazily, the feeling of the slight calluses on his fingers against Eames’ skin sending a slight shiver down his spine. “For someone who lies for a living, you’re really terrible at it the rest of the time, you know that?”

“I did have an almost 18 hour travel time to get here, you know,” Eames chuckled, trying to shift the topic. “I really am tired.”

“I’m sure you are.” Arthur moved on to another tattoo, moving his fingers around the edges softly. “But it’s not what’s bothering you.”

Arthur’s voice was quiet but sure and Eames sighed, looking back out the window. There were very few people who could reliably and accurately read Eames, but Arthur was undeniably one of them. And he was right, of course. Not that it made Eames any more eager to have the conversation he knew was coming. The one he’d been intentionally avoiding for a while. “I’ve just been…thinking. About us.”

Arthur’s fingers paused and Eames felt him look up. “Oh?”

Eames kept his gaze fixed on the lights outside. “I mean, I’m certainly not usually one for labels or such, but I just…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “What is this? What are we?”

Arthur propped himself up on his elbow, looking Eames in the face. “What do you want us to be?”

Eames frowned, still looking out the window. It was easier than looking at Arthur and seeing his expression, or at least what Eames imagined his expression could be. What he worried it could be. “I asked you first.”

“And I have an answer. But I want to hear yours first. I want to know what you want, uninfluenced by what I want.”

“I don’t…” Eames shrugged, still looking away. “This was supposed to be casual. Hooking up on jobs or between them. That's it. That's what people like us do. It's what our lives allow. I know that. And maybe…maybe that's all it is still." He shifted his gaze away from the window and stared at the sheets, still avoiding looking at Arthur. "But goodbyes are harder now, you know? They've been getting harder for a while. And that…that hasn’t happened before with other people. It’s different. You’re different.” He finally looked up hesitantly. Arthur was watching him with a serious expression that looked so out of place with his messy hair and the flush that hadn’t quite left his cheeks. Eames reached out and brushed his hair back gently. “You’re different,” he muttered again, not sure how else to say it. Because he was. Arthur was different. Maybe not at first, not when they’d first started doing this a little over a year ago. It had been casual then, nothing more. But not anymore. Not for a while. What do you want us to be? He took a deep breath, resting his hand against the side of Arthur’s face. He needed to say this, to tell him. “I…I-I want this to be real, Arthur. I want us to be real, because I think I’m falling for you. No, I know I am. And I get it if you don’t feel the same way, if this is still just a casual hookup for you, because that’s all it’s supposed to be, but I…it’s not just that for me anymore. And if that is all this still is for you then I can’t keep doing this. Because I look at you and…” He stared at Arthur, running his thumb across his cheek. “If I still dreamt, darling, it would be of you.”

Eames looked away as soon as the words were out of his mouth, not wanting to see Arthur's reaction. He couldn't see his reaction. Arthur was silent for a moment and Eames bit his lip. Maybe this had been a bad idea. It had been a bad idea. That was obvious. It was too much, too vulnerable. He shouldn't have said anything. Should’ve just let things lie. 

He was about to apologize and offer to leave when he felt Arthur's fingers on his face, tilting his chin to look at him. "You're a hopeless romantic." Arthur leaned in and kissed him lightly. "A bit of an idiot, but a hopelessly romantic one."

"Wait, you…" Eames pulled back slightly, needing to see Arthur's expression. "You're okay with this? With us?"

"I told you I already had an answer. I was just waiting for you to figure out yours." Arthur was smiling, watching him with a warm expression that made Eames' breath catch slightly in his throat. "This has been real for me for a while. And you know me. I don't do things halfway." Arthur kissed him again, slower and deeper than before, pulling back just enough to whisper against his lips. "All my love is yours, Eames. I'm yours, if you'll have me."

Eames pulled him back in, leaning into the kiss. He'd kissed Arthur plenty of times, but not like this. He didn't think he'd ever kissed anyone like this. Not this gently, this deeply, this sincerely. Not with so many unspoken promises. I miss you when you're gone. I'm falling for you. I've already fallen for you. Eames tried to communicate each promise with every kiss, Arthur returning them with equal affection. No matter where you go, I'll be there if you want me. Wherever you are, I'm yours. Even after they pulled apart to breathe Eames kept his eyes closed, resting his forehead against Arthur's. It took him a moment to find his voice, but when he finally did he let out a quiet, breathy laugh. "I really am a bit of an idiot, aren't I?"

"Just a little." Arthur kissed his cheek softly and moved closer, resting his head in the crook of Eames' neck. "But it's part of your charm." He slipped his hand into Eames’, intertwining their fingers. “You know, since I don’t have a job set up, I was thinking I might just stay in Seoul for a little. Maybe a week or two.”

Eames wrapped his other arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “I’d love that.” Arthur let out a small, contented hum as he nestled against Eames’ side. It was a familiar sound, one that Eames had heard more times than he could count by now. Now, though, he thought it might be the most wonderful sound he'd ever heard. He closed his eyes and settled back against the pillows, holding Arthur close. Eames could feel his jet lag starting to catch up to him and he knew he'd start to drift off soon, but even encroaching sleep couldn't dampen the warmth in his chest. "I'd love it more than anything."

[miafic]

brody is tall, and he has broad shoulders and a wide chin. he has swoopy, brown hair and long eyelashes. frequently, he wears a black hoodie advertising a local hockey rink, which reminds lucas of calum. 

brody is angry sometimes. he’s jumpy sometimes, too, to the point where lucas warns the aides specifically not to walk up behind him without making it clear that they’re approaching. 

brody mostly keeps to himself, and he aggressively stabs his food onto his fork at meals, and during his first few nights at peace and purpose, he has a lot of trouble getting to sleep. lucas has to stop by his room multiple times in the first days to instruct brody to lie down because he sits up and stares at the doorframe. 

---

one morning, brody is up before lucas and zakk’s alarms go off. he wanders downstairs and is in the entry doing push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks. at breakfast prep, the aide on duty quietly lets zakk know that brody was asking him to time his planks at 5:45 AM. 

lucas thinks that it’s reasonable to request that brody stay in bed until it’s time to start the day. brody apparently does not; he quietly tells lucas to fuck off and subsequently loses game night privileges. he spends the time in his bedroom, alternating between angrily shadow boxing and lying silently on the floor, staring at the ceiling. 

---

brody eats so many apples that zakk starts watching him for signs of an eating disorder, but he doesn’t find anything. 

---

when the boys are sent outside to burn off some energy after dinner and one of the other kids playfully sprays him with a hose, brody angrily goes over to shout in his face. everyone is scared because brody is big and could probably knock any one of them out. 

lucas has to grab brody by the hood of his sweatshirt and drag him several feet away to get him to back off. it takes brody ten minutes to calm down, and he apologizes through his teeth.

brody loses movie night privileges for the episode. he jogs in place in his bedroom for a full hour and drinks water from the bathroom sink so that he doesn’t have to go downstairs. 

before bed, lucas and brody have a talk - or rather, lucas just talks - about the difference between when to ask someone to stop and when to react the way that brody did. brody spends the whole lecture with his hands locked into fists. 

---

zakk starts trying to introduce brody to healthy coping skills, but brody's not interested. zakk meets him with compassion, patience, and love, so lucas gives himself permission to go in harder with the stern words, warnings, and punishments. brody’s mad at lucas all the time, and lucas is frustrated with him, too. despite zakk asking lucas to chill out a little, lucas doesn’t pull back. 

---

brody’s roommate moves back in with his mom. lucas doesn’t know who’s more relieved: zakk or the roommate.

---

it’s not the way that brody throws his arms around his little brother brad that makes lucas nervous. it’s the way his tone sounds so anxious when he mutters, “are you okay?” 

lucas has only seen two visiting day hugs as tight and desperate and emotional: the first back in 2014 when awsten went bounding down the stairs to squeeze his best friend, and the second in 2015 when morgan’s mom showed up unannounced. there are no tears from brody, but there are some from brad. he’s 14 and shaking. 

brody barely looks at his stepmom, although he gives his brother a tour of the house and forces more smiles than he has in the whole time he’s been at peace and purpose. they hang out with the other boys in the game room for a little while before going out back to kick a soccer ball around the yard. when one of them yells, “that was unfair!” at the other one and they start rolling around in the grass and shoving at each other, lucas doesn’t break it up. 

brad - “bratty” as brody calls him, a play on “braddy” - can hold his own, and the stepmom doesn’t seem worried, so lucas lets it go. they’re not actually trying to hurt each other, and it’s not like brody couldn’t use the stress relief. lucas keeps his arms crossed as he watches them wrestle.

at one point, while he’s still on the ground, brody shoots lucas a hesitant smile. lucas sends a warm one back. 

---

that night, well past bedtime, brody knocks on lucas’ door. lucas is half-asleep, but he shoves his glasses on and stumbles over to see what’s up. brody’s got glasses on, too, and his hands are stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. he can’t lift his eyes up off of the carpet. 

“you gotta get him out of there,” he says quietly.

“who?”

“brad.”

lucas is quiet for a moment. then he asks, “why?”

brody tightens his jaw and walks away without responding. he goes into the bathroom and slams the door, waking everyone with a start. lucas hears the low thud of his fist connecting with the counter, but there’s no hiss of pain. brody punches the counter a second time. and then a third.

“get ice,” lucas directs the aide downstairs. to the other two kids emerging from their bedroom, he gently says, “go back to sleep. he’s fine,” even though brody is far from fine. 

the aide tosses a baggie of ice up the stairs to lucas, who catches it and calmly walks into the bathroom. he finds brody leaning on the counter with all the lights off, shoulders heaving from his hard breathing. lucas hands him the ice, and brody fires it onto the ground. lucas picks it up and sets it on the counter beside him. 

brody looks at lucas with furious eyes, but all lucas can see is the pain. 

“why?” lucas asks again. “if you tell me what’s going on, maybe i can help.” 

brody grabs the bag of ice and stalks into his bedroom.

lucas softly sighs. 

---

brody fails his math test. he takes it out on ryan - loudly.

he has to clean up lunch all by himself and write an apology letter.

---

“i don’t know what we’re supposed to do with him,” zakk says hopelessly one night after brody blew up at one of the other boys over nothing. “the kids get scared when he walks into the room, and honestly, so do i. i really think he needs to be somewhere else.”

lucas shakes his head. “give me a little more time; i’ve almost got him.”

---

on saturday, brody demolishes everyone during tag. he’s so happy with himself that he accidentally gets into a really good mood and is nice to the other boys. he’s singing a little while they watch tarzan, and the other two follow suit. for the first time in a long time, the house feels relaxed and happy. 

---

brody’s at the sink cutting up an apple for snack when lucas gets back from his day off.

“good morning,” lucas says. 

brody doesn’t respond. lucas watches him for a moment, taking in the way he’s focused so intently on cutting the apple in half and taking that half and cutting it in half and cutting that half in half again and then repeating it with one of the halves from before. 

lucas walks past him and brody flinches hard and whirls around, and suddenly the knife is pressing into the base of lucas’ throat. 

it’s over as soon as it begins - lucas’ face registers in brody’s mind, and he stumbles back and drops the knife on the counter like it’s burning him. “shit, i’m sorry,” he blurts sincerely. “i thought you were my dad.” 

the words that leave his mouth surprise both of them, but lucas is more shocked by what just happened. he reaches up to feel the thin skin of his neck, and his fingers come away with blood. it’s just a little - it hardly even hurts. but the way it got there is terrifying. 

brody must think so, too, because his eyes fill with horror. “lucas, i’m sorry,” he repeats urgently, and lucas is kind of thinking that he needs to sit down and also kind of thinking that it’s the first time brody has ever said his name. 

“it was a reflex,” brody pleads. 

“go get zakk,” lucas says, and he does sit then, just to be safe; he doesn’t know when the overwhelming surge of adrenaline will drain. 

“lucas, fuck, i’m sorry-”

“i’m okay. please go get zakk.” 

brody does. 

zakk is running when he comes into the kitchen. 

“can you get the first aid kit out of the office?” lucas asks tiredly. 

“he said he cut your throat with a knife!” zakk half-yells, and he’s almost crying. 

lucas snorts and points at the single bead of blood on his neck.

“i didn’t even know you were home!” 

“zakk, i’m fine - it’s just right here. look, see? i’m okay. just please-”

zakk rushes out of the room and comes back a little calmer, sitting on the floor with lucas, taking his time wiping down the tiny pinprick of a cut with disinfectant and soothingly rubbing neosporin on it with his bare hand. he places a tan band-aid over it, and lucas wants nothing more than to give him a kiss and lean in for a comforting hug, but brody has come back into the room and is standing there watching. 

“yer jalan atthirari anni,” zakk murmurs under his breath, and lucas smiles wearily. zakk always finds a way. 

“shekh ma shieraki anni.” 

zakk packs up the first aid kit, gets to his feet, and retrieves the knife from the counter. “that’s two strikes. you are in serious trouble,” zakk warns dangerously, and brody nods at the floor. 

zakk leaves, but lucas knows that he’ll stay close. 

brody sits on the floor across from lucas with several feet of space between them. “it was an accident,” he says, his voice hardly audible. 

“i know.” 

“it really was.” 

“i know,” lucas repeats. 

there’s silence. 

“you don’t get a reflex like that from nowhere,” lucas states. 

brody nods. 

lucas watches him carefully as he alternates between looking like he might cry and steeling his jaw. two minutes pass in silence. finally, brody speaks.

“my dad... he’s an asshole,” he says, his voice empty. “i want brad out of there. he can take my place here if that’s what it takes, but i need him out of the house. i will do anything.” with that statement, he looks up at lucas. 

“why?” lucas asks again. 

“because i’m his brother. i’m supposed to protect him.”

“no, why do you want him out of the home?” 

there’s another pause, but it’s not as long as the first one. 

“i can’t say it,” brody whispers, and he lets a gust of air out of his nose. “fuck!” 

“brody, take your time,” lucas says gently. knife incident aside, this is it. this is it, this is what lucas has been working toward for weeks. “it’s just me, and i can help.” 

“my dad’s a fucking creep, that’s all,” brody snaps. 

lucas nods. 

brody looks at him like that’s supposed to be enough. 

"i can’t help you unless i know what you’re dealing with.”

brody tips his head back and laughs emotionlessly. he swallows before tightly forcing out, “he comes in our rooms at night and touches us, dude.” 

“inappropriately?”

“yeah.”

“okay,” lucas nods, “that’s something i can work with. thank you for telling me.”

"yeah,” brody says sarcastically.

lucas waits, but brody doesn’t say anything else. he prompts, “can we talk about it some more?” 

“no.” 

“why not?” 

angrily, he answers, “cause i don’t want to.” 

“okay. are you comfortable talking about how it makes you feel?”

brody shrugs. “whatever.” 

“how do you feel when you think about what your dad does?”

“bad,” brody answers dully. 

lucas doesn’t think that brody’s lying to him about the situation, but to be sure, he asks, “how does it make you feel when you think about your brother living at home with your dad?”

brody’s quiet for several seconds, and then lucas sees his lips tremble. 

“it’s okay to cry,” lucas tells him. 

brody just shakes his head. “he’s not like me. he can’t take it the way i can. i’m worried he’s gonna run away or do something stupid...”

lucas purses his lips. 

“please get him out of there,” brody says, and the only way to really describe it is begging. “please, lucas, you’re the only one who can.” 

---

after the admission, brody gets angrier. 

lucas reports the information to child protective services, and even though he tells brody this, brody still winds up yelling during dinner because the kids are asking lucas why he has a band-aid on his neck. 

brody sits in his chair and shouts, and lucas calmly gets up and pulls brody - who’s still yelling - to his feet and into the office. he closes the door, and brody scowls at him. 

“this is all your fault!” brody accuses, and lucas prays to god that zakk didn’t hear that. he wants to handle this on his own.

lucas stays calm as he asks, “how is any of this my fault?” 

“you pissed me off!”

“how?” 

“you asked how i feel about brad being there!”

lucas watches him without responding.

“i feel like shit!” he shouts, and lucas can see the emotion building in his eyes. time to press some buttons. 

“tell me more about that.” 

brody blows out an angry breath. “i know my dad’s going to him every night now because i’m not there. he usually alternates, you know?” brody’s talking a little softer, but he’s still loud, and he still looks huge. his chest is shuddering. lucas wouldn’t be at all surprised if the lights started flickering. 

“what do you think that’s been like for brad?” 

brody starts to respond, but he falters. he closes his mouth, reaches up to cover his face, and begins shaking with tears. 

lucas allows himself a small, sad smile before stepping forward and reminding gently, “cps is going to remove him tonight. they might have already done it. he’ll be safe, and then he can start to heal.” 

“he’s gonna be so scared.” 

“the fear is short-term,” lucas promises. 

“where is he going?” brody demands through his tears. 

“i don’t have that informa-” 

“but he’s getting out of there? you’re sure?” 

“i’m positive.” 

brody’s face crumbles again, this time in relief. he leans forward so that his forehead is resting against lucas’ shoulder. lucas sets one hand between brody’s shoulder blades, right beneath that damn hockey hood, and exhales quietly. 

“you don’t have to stress about it so much anymore,” lucas tells him softly. “i know you’ve been worried sick.” 

brody nods and wipes at his eyes, but he keeps crying, and he doesn’t stand up. 

after another brief moment spent dipping into his pain, brody straightens and dries his eyes fully with his sleeve. “i’m so sorry,” he says, and lucas can tell that he’s speaking in general. 

“thank you,” he says with a nod. “i need you to do better, though. no more yelling. you’re scaring everybody.” 

brody nods, still wiping his face. “yeah.” 

“and no more knives.” 

he nods vigorously. 

“i accept your apology,” lucas states, “but i think there are a couple more people who deserve one, too.” 

---

when the office door opens again, the chatter at the table between zakk and the two other boys immediately stops. 

brody leads the way to the table, shoulders drooping a little. he tucks his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt and says to the kids, “i’m sorry i’ve been an asshole.” 

lucas clears his throat. 

“a jerk,” brody corrects. “i’m gonna stop.” 

lucas knows that brody’s pink eyes and deflated posture humanize him far more than his words. 

“i’m just stressed out about my brother.” 

zakk shoots lucas a look as the excuse leaves brody’s mouth. 

“he’s at home, and my dad’s sexually abusing him.” 

“ohhhhkay,” lucas interrupts. to the other kids, lucas adds, “i reported all the information i have to cps, and they’re stepping in today.” 

“is it brad?” one of the boys asks, seeming upset. 

brody nods. 

a silence crosses the table. 

“he usually does it to both of us, but now i’m not home,” brody supplies. 

“brody,” lucas cautions softly, “they don’t need to know this. it’s private - if not for you, for your brother.” 

brody nods. he stares at his chair for a few seconds and then asks, “can i go to my room?” 

“you don’t want to finish eating?” 

brody shakes his head. 

“alright. take your plate to the sink, please.” 

after he obeys, brody trudges up the stairs and crashes onto his bed. when dinner and cleanup are done and lucas goes to check on him and see if he wants to hang out in the game room with the other boys, he finds brody asleep in bed with new tears drying all over his face. 

---

the next afternoon, zakk tries yet again to teach brody some healthy coping skills. brody’s still not into it, but he does confess to liking the way painting feels during art therapy. zakk excitedly goes to retrieve the art supplies that they’ve been keeping in storage upstairs. he tells brody that he can use them whenever he wants, that they’ve had a lot of kids who enjoy art, and that zakk always likes seeing what they make if they feel like sharing. 

brody doesn’t take him up on it, but he does at least pretend to consider it. 

---

thirty-six hours after brody’s confession, brad is standing in the entry of peace and purpose with a social worker and two bags of stuff. 

“this is lucas,” brody tells him, motioning to the counselor. “he saved you.” 

before lucas can rephrase brody’s words, brad hurries forward and throws his arms around lucas’ waist. “thank you,” he whispers desperately. 

lucas exhales silently and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “no wrestling, okay?” he says to both of them. “that was a one-time thing.” 

brad pulls back. 

“okay,” brody agrees, and brad glances at him. brody explains authoritatively, “you gotta listen to lucas. we like lucas.” 

brad nods. 

lucas can’t help but smile a little. “okay. leave your stuff here, cause i’ve got to search it, but you guys can go help with breakfast.” 

they disappear, and lucas hears one of the kids in the kitchen exclaim, “brad!” and then all four of them start talking at once. 

lucas signs a few papers, thanks the social worker, and takes brad’s stuff into the office to search it. he knows that they’re still in for a rough ride - brody isn’t magically cured just by brad showing up, and now they’ve got two kids dealing with major trauma (and almost definitely c-ptsd), and they’re brothers... 

lucas walks into the kitchen a few minutes later and sees zakk and brad standing side by side in front of a mixing bowl filled with pancake batter. across the room, brody is leaning against the fridge, watching them and looking like he’s going to cry again. 

lucas quietly clears his throat, and brody looks over. he gives lucas a sincere look and a nod, and lucas nods back. 

yeah. this is gonna be worth it. 

[feisties]

choose your own adventure

pairing: blue sargent x henry chang x richard gansey iii prompt: college AU word count: 1,107 warnings: none notes: #13 from this, written for nonbinarycasmund. it’s a tiny bit different from the original prompt but i hope you like it!

There’s a lot of things from living on a co-ed floor that Blue can tolerate. She can live with the kitschy pranks, the perpetual smell of weed, and the occasional excessive banging of a headboard against a wall. She can even learn to appreciate the stilted but well-meaning greetings with acquaintances in the bathroom. But she reaches her breaking point tonight.

Tonight, someone is playing the song September on their floor.

Loudly.

On repeat.

The worst part is that the music plays in surround-sound; the source of the song keeps moving from one spot to the other. It sounds almost as if the band Earth, Wind, and Fire is wandering around hopelessly on the fourth floor of a university dormitory with no way out.

She starts to go crazy around the tenth time the song replays—who’s counting? She certainly isn’t—but after the eighteenth play there’s finally a long, forgiving silence, like maybe the source has decided to put itself out of its own misery. 

She breathes out a heavy sigh of relief.

Then the beginning of September plays for the nineteenth time.

It’s basically an invitation for homicide, at this point.

/

Blue’s already climbing out of her bed on the twenty-second play, ready to search everyone’s room and possibly commit arson, when someone knocks at her door.

The knocks come fast, frantic, and utterly without consideration for the person on the receiving end. When she swings open the door, a male voice immediately blurts: “Do you have our roomba?”

Blue blinks. 

There’s not just one male standing in front of her, but two of them. Unfortunately for her, they’re both upsettingly handsome, wearing pajama bottoms and threadbare T-shirts which hang off their shoulders in ways that she hates herself for admiring. One of them watches her behind pretentious wide-rimmed wire glasses and the other has an astonishing amount of product in what looks like gravity-defying hair, despite it being midnight. 

The two of them are looking right back at Blue with the same startled curiosity, like she’s an alien species or perhaps a small, missing lap dog that’s run away from home. Either way, there’s a hint of a feral fascination behind the poor attempt not to gawk.

“What?” she squeaks.

The one in the glasses recomposes himself fairly quickly, with an easy, charming tilt to his mouth. 

The one with the giant hair seems to make no indication of recomposing himself and smiles rakishly. 

“I like your pajamas,” he says.

This time Blue gawks.

She is suddenly, horribly, vividly aware of the cat print on her pajama bottoms, and even more aware of how both boys’ eyes flicker to the spot where her shorts meet her bare legs. The simultaneous urges to blush violently, preen under their gazes, and yell at them for staring makes her so apoplectic she can barely breathe.

She finally manages, “Excuse me?”

“Sorry about him,” says the other boy wearily without additional explanation, seemingly pulling himself out of his own reverie, but the way he’s peering down at her now over the gold rims of his glasses suggests that his apology may not have been all that sincere. “We’re being extremely rude for knocking on your door this late. I’m Gansey. This is my roommate, Henry. And your name is…?”

“Blue. Blue Sargent.”

He regards her. 

“Are you sure?”

She sputters. “Am I sure about my name?”

“You look like a Jane to me,” he says thoughtfully. “Is Jane your middle name, by any chance?”

Once again overcome by seething disbelief, she doesn’t answer.

“So, Blue Sargent,” Henry interjects with his alarming energy, “as I mentioned, we’re looking for our roomba.”

“Your roomba,” Blue repeats.

“Yes,” says Gansey. His smile indicates that he has all the time in the world, but the faint sound of September playing for twenty-third time clearly pinches at the edges of his mouth. He looks a bit wan, almost apologetic. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s a mobile vacuum cleaner. It runs on its own.”

“I know what a roomba is,” she answers crossly. 

“You might also have heard the music playing on repeat—”

“Oh, that?” Her voice is only a little scathing, but both boys flinch in front of her like they’ve been slapped. “Yeah, I might have heard it around a few times.”

“It’s connected by bluetooth,” Henry explains. “We’ve been playing music to find it.”

“And you needed to find it in the middle of the night.”

“I suppose we did,” Gansey answers breezily, but the edges of his voice are clipped, as if it actually is a concern of his that he’s refusing to voice out of courtesy.

There’s only one dignified response to that answer: it’s a loud, long-suffering sigh that she indulges in with an emphasis that’s not entirely necessary but wholly deserved.

It doesn’t seem to be having its usual effect.

Henry seemingly pushes past it with a determined geniality. He leans a lazy, tanned arm against her door frame and surveys her room enthusiastically. 

“So. Is the roomba in your room?”

She chokes out a strangled laugh. “Do you think it’s here?”

“Do you have any information on its whereabouts?” Henry presses. “Have you seen it nearby?”

“I—no.”

In the distance, the song fades out. 

Then the guitar in the opening sequence blares tinnily for the twenty-fourth time.

“God, at this point, I’ll go find it myself,” Blue cries without meaning to.

She regrets the words the instant they leave her mouth. 

Two pairs of eyes snap to hers.

“Jane,” Gansey says. “That’s a fantastic sentiment.”

Blue blanches. “It was a joke.”

Their heads tilt pensively at the same time to study her, boyish and unabashed. She has a vague feeling that she should be annoyed, but for some reason she can’t muster up the energy to bristle. In fact, she might even be a little charmed by how bright their expressions are. 

She’ll blame it on being sleep deprived.

“Blue Sargent,” Henry says solemnly, “how would you like to go roomba-hunting with us?”

There are a million reasons to say no. But the way the two of them are pouting at her, shamelessly hopeful and a little juvenile, makes her forget most of those reasons. It’s—unexpectedly disarming. 

Then Henry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and something flexes in Gansey’s forearms when he crosses his arms across his body which—okay, is an unfair amount of disarming. A criminal amount of disarming. Especially at once.

“We’re great company,” adds Henry, flashing bright, white teeth at her.

“And then we’ll make it up to you,” Gansey promises.

The sincerity of his tone is just enough to convince her. And from the way they exchange glances, conspiratorially, meaningfully, and fix lingering looks at the way she folds a leg over the other, she has a feeling that they’ll make it up to her in very thorough, voluntary ways.

Well. It wasn’t really like she was going to get much sleep tonight, anyway.

Blue huffs. 

She tucks her arms across her chest.

She pinches her mouth together to suppress a smirk.

“It sounds like the music is coming from the left,” she says finally, hiking up an eyebrow. She slips between the two of them and the warmth from both bodies feels exciting. Worth the late night, she thinks grudgingly. “And close the door behind you, would you?”

/

[luxexhomines]

Can I request Kokichi with his (S/O) who has the Hanahaki Disease? you can choose how it could end, with a good ending, or a bad ending, the power is yours owo

I have to say, anon, your ask made me laugh a lot when I saw it. It sounds so dramatic, aha! “The power is yours…..” and then with an owo. Anyways, here it is! I feel like it could have gone many different ways, but this is what I ended up with. I think it’s a little too long, though…and probably could have used more angst… Ah, well, maybe next time I’ll try writing the other ending if I feel so inclined to try or have some spurt of inspiration.

Kokichi Ouma x Reader with Hanahaki Disease

“Hey, Kokichi?”

You called out to the boy, who was walking in front of you in the empty hallway. He stopped and turned to face you.

“Hm? What is it?”

His face was relatively devoid of expression, especially in comparison to the usual dramatic faces he’d make. Your eyes took in the sight of him–his dark hair that twirled upward, his purple eyes, his slim frame.

“Ah–it’s nothing, sorry.”

His face twisted into an expression of amusement, and then he laughed, placing his hands behind his head casually.

“Yeah, how dare you waste the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s time with nothing! You have to make it up to me by hanging out with me tomorrow, okay?”

And with that, he skipped away without waiting for an answer. You supposed he knew you wouldn’t refuse–or rather, couldn’t refuse.

You loved him, after all. Although you weren’t sure whether he knew or not, he was astute and you figured he probably knew and just didn’t want to do anything about it.

You strolled down the hallway after him and out of the school, on your way home. That was when you felt an itch or discomfort of sorts in your chest, and you coughed. It wouldn’t go away, so you coughed and hacked some more, and then you felt something come into your mouth. It felt solid, so you spit out whatever it was into your hand, only for your eyes to meet a bright yellow flower petal–and a single drop of blood tinged its edge ominously.

You threw it away and watched it flutter to the ground gently as if it were just another petal shed by the spring rather than evidence of something terribly, terribly wrong within you. It was nothing, you were sure. You shouldn’t think too much of it, you told yourself, and you marched on home defiantly.

You tapped your foot impatiently. You’d been waiting here at the mall for at least ten minutes now, and it was originally Kokichi’s idea to hang out, too. He had sent you the pinned location and time, along with a mildly threatening message compelling you to come. You had felt a strange, twisting sensation in your gut and an aching feeling in your chest before you left–as if telling you not to leave, but you brushed off the ominous premonition of danger or foreboding, reminding yourself that you had no choice but to come whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed with neither sign nor notice from the very person who had invited you. Your heart sank. Was this just another prank of his? But even for the mischievous prankster who seemed to, to some extent, embody schadenfreude (the enjoyment of the suffering of others), this seemed much too cruel. You had been sitting on the bench, refreshing your texts hopelessly, even though you knew there was a low chance of him saying anything now. Dejected, you leaned back–but then you felt that odd discomfort living in your chest again, and hunched forward, coughing.

You hacked for some time before feeling something solid in your mouth again, and you spit it out ungracefully, only for more yellow petals to be revealed, and they fell limply to the floor, slightly damp and the edges tinged with a red substance–what that substance was, you didn’t care to figure out.

You stood to leave and then spotted a silhouette in the distance coming closer and closer. It was Kokichi, and he was running toward you for once, rather than away after playing a prank.

He waves, out of breath, and has to take a moment to catch his breath before speaking. You cross your arms across your chest.

“This had better be good, Kokichi,” you warned, but you felt your voice tremble slightly.

He straightens up and brushes the wrinkles out of his clothes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes in what seems to be a rather genuine manner. “I didn’t do it on purpose–not this time, at least,” he adds on after receiving a dubious look from you.

You sigh.

“It’s fine… Can you tell me ahead of time next time? Or just let me know how much longer you’ll be?”

He scratches his cheek sheepishly, looking cowed for once.

“I forgot to bring my phone… But yeah, I will next time. If I have my phone, that is. Do you still want to hang out?”

You feel a little voice inside you screaming at you to say yes, that you didn’t wait this long for him only to go home!

But you stamped it out mercilessly.

“I’m not feeling too well,” you admit, and as if on cue, you start coughing again.

Even though you weren’t one to worry about physical symptoms too much, the persistence of this was grating on your nerves and you were beginning to feel anxious. You didn’t put much stock in rumors, either, but who hadn’t heard of the Hanahaki disease? It was easy to brush it off the first two times it had happened, but a third time seemed to solidify your suspicions of the petals being something more than mere coincidence.

You can’t stop coughing, and again, yellow petals escape your parted lips before you can put a hand over your mouth and hide them.

“What’s that? Flower petals?” he asks, and he bends down to retrieve one of the fatal pieces of evidence; evidence of your love, your affection for none other than him.

You try to snatch it from those conniving fingertips, but he draws his hand back, out of your reach.

“Don’t touch that,” you rasp. “It’s dirty.”

But you’re ultimately unable to stop him as he lifts the damning petal upward so it catches the eye of the sun, and with it, the crimson-brown stains around its circumference are more than clear. You watch his face carefully, holding your breath. You didn’t know what he thought and hoped he wouldn’t see the truth you suspected.

His purple eyes gleam, and he faces you once again with a playful attitude.

“Oho? Do you happen to like someone?” he teases. “The pursuit of their affections isn’t going so well, is it?”

Your lips tighten into a straight, thin line, and you shake your head stiffly. To think you had thought for a moment that he might be sensitive to your impending crisis, that perhaps he might just realize it was him and reciprocate your love-

“So what? What’s it to you?” you interject hoarsely. “It’s none of your business, Kokichi. You’re always butting in whenever you please, and then you disappear when I’m looking for you. You have no right to talk to me about something like this.”

His expression changes so quickly, you almost miss it–for a moment, you thought he looked bitter–but he just has a cocky, self-serving smirk in place and his eyes are darkly shining, like the ore of a rock.

“That’s just the way I am, right? Can’t expect more than that from a guy like me.”

Frustration and anger burst from you in the form of speech, even if language could never express the intensity of the outrage you felt upon hearing such words from him.

“Don’t say that! You were supposed to refute me. I’m the only one allowed to say something like that to you!” you shout at him and spinning on your heel, you make your exit, turbid emotions still bubbling inside you and clawing to be let out.

The journey home is a space of time you don’t remember in the least. What you do remember after getting home is slamming the door to your room after you, leaning against it and then bending forward and coughing uncontrollably, wheezing for air with each bout of air you expelled from your lungs in addition to a cascade of ironically bright yellow petals that seemed to have flourished inside your body before leaving your lips like fluttering snow from clouds, coated in slick, red blood.

You don’t bother responding to his texts of concern or his provocative statements in an effort to just get some kind of answer from you, and roll over on your side in your bed so you face the wall, shutting your mind and heart to the world outside, longing to escape the turmoil shaking you from the core.

You wake to sunlight trickling in and running onto your closed eyes, so you open them blearily.

Almost immediately upon regaining consciousness, you feel that familiar pain in your chest, and you sit up, allowing a couple coughs to escape you, along with a few yellow petals.

All you could think was that you had to wrench yourself out of bed, had to get up and engage in your usual morning routine. So you did.

You coughed all the way from your room to the kitchen, where you wanted to make yourself something to eat. Or, at least, maybe put a piece of bread in the toaster. But even that proved to be too difficult, and your knees collapsed beneath you as you fell into another fit of coughing.

The golden petals seemed to be mocking you with their beauty, as jewels from tears must have in the fairytale of the girl who cried pearls and precious gems. You knew somewhere in your hazy state of mind that it hadn’t always been like this, that in fact, you had only been suffering from this affliction for less than two days–but somehow you couldn’t seem to remember a day you had lived without this hurt in your chest, and you clung to the kitchen counter from your position on the floor weakly.

Then you heard the door burst open, and footsteps neared you. You closed your eyes. This situation would be very difficult to explain.

“Hey, are you okay?!”

It was him, and by the sound of his voice, he was sincerely worried.

You try to respond, but all that comes out is some heavy breathing and more coughing, accompanied by the signature petals of gold. You lift your head to look at him and shrug helplessly. It’s then that you become aware, also, of the way your entire being is shivering.

“I knew something was up,” he bites his thumb in irritation. “You should have just told me! Am I so hard to rely on?”

But before you can reply, he answers his question for himself.

“Of course I am,” he mutters spitefully.

You open your mouth to object, once again, to the derogatory way he talks about himself, but little comes out.

“N-No,” you cough.

His eyes widen.

“Did you say ‘no’? So you can talk, after all. Just barely.”

You nod to affirm his conclusion, and he sighs in relief.

“So that’ll make this a little easier, then.”

He looks you straight in the eye, unblinking and as open and honest as you’ve ever seen him.

“Who do you like?”

You immediately avert your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” you mumble. “If it’s unrequited, it’s unrequited. Nothing I can do about it.”

He grits his teeth in frustration.

“We don’t have a lot of time, smartass! Either you tell me who it is and we do a last-ditch effort at getting them to like you, or we go to the hospital and get these petals removed, even if it means you can’t love again because god forbid I let you die on the floor of your kitchen while I’m here!”

You take a wary look at his face.

“You’re going to regret having asked,” you say dryly.

“Try me,” he retorts. “I might be disgusted by your choices, but if we can get them to like you and fix you up, I’m not going to regret it.”

You laugh, even though to him, it must not seem funny at all. But the laughing only spurs another attack of coughing, and he rubs your back in an effort to calm you. When you stop, he grabs your face with both hands.

“Okay, spit it out already!”

You smile, the corners of your lips tugging upward. You never wanted to confess like this, maybe had thought you never wanted to confess at all, but-

“It’s you, Kokichi.”

He’s completely caught by surprise, and his mouth falls open like an idiot–like a certain someone he liked to make fun of all the time. He catches himself, though, and quickly enough, his face shows resentment.

“Ha-ha, very funny. You’re literally about to die, and you’re still making jokes of bad taste?” he scoffs. “If I weren’t this nice, I would have thrown you under the bus and left you to die already.”

You shake your head gravely, and suddenly Kokichi realizes that there’s not a hint of humor on your face. Nothing of the kind that he was used to, at least.

“Wait. You’re serious,” he deadpans, and he searches your features for further confirmation.

You simply nod, and he finally sees the yearning in your eyes, the way you looked at him with affection, perhaps slightly exhausted, but persistent, and the pain that had expressed itself as coughing and brilliant yellow flower petals previously. He had gotten so used to looking for the lies in other people that he had failed to realize when the truth had finally presented itself before him.

He doesn’t know how to feel at first. His mind is running in circles, chasing his heart frantically, trying to catch up. He’s never known what the two of you were–friends? Good acquaintances? Something more?

But now that he’s re-evaluating the relationship the two of you share, he finds that there was a whole lot of affection for you in his pestering and pranks, a great love in the way he would incline you to spend time with him, and so much more in his actions and words that he had never knew held hints of liking you.

You smile in sour amusement.

“I told you you’d regret-”

But you were promptly interrupted by a less than graceful kiss smack dab on your lips, forceful and yet unimaginably brief.

“Don’t make assumptions on your own!” he scolds. He can’t tell if he’s angrier at you for not telling him sooner and clearing up the confusion for him or if he’s angrier at himself for not figuring it out sooner and keeping you from all this unnecessary pain.

Your eyebrows furrow. What were you registering right now? Something seemed to have met your mouth, but it couldn’t possibly have been what you thought, right?

Right?

“Geez,” Kokichi complains as he pulls you to your feet relatively effortlessly for a person of his stature. “You should’ve just told me earlier! Then you wouldn’t have gotten sick and there wouldn’t have been all this extra drama.”

You stumble as you stand like you do over your words.

“Wait… That means…”

He practically screams it in your ear.

“Yes! I like you, you dimwit!” He kisses your cheek, softly this time. “I don’t know how you didn’t figure it out after I kissed you and basically said I didn’t regret hearing that you liked me.”

He rolls his eyes, and you have to laugh at his melodrama. Typical Kokichi.

This time, no coughing ensued, and you leaned in, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose playfully.

“I love you, Kokichi.”

You can’t tell if it’s your willful imagination or not, but his cheeks seem to become slightly pinker, and he plants his hands on his hips.

“You think I can’t tell after you physically got lovesick over me and confessed to my face?” he snarks back, and you bite back laughter at his childish stubbornness.

Nothing in the world was more attractive to you than Kokichi at that moment–and you suspected for lifetimes to come.

[autisticjaymerrick]

Actually posting tonight because it wasn’t as hard to edit as I thought it would be lol.

---------

 If, sometimes, the coughing fits he took were less to do with The Operator and more to do with a different kind of sickness, well, Tim didn’t really think Jay needed to know that. Not yet and maybe not ever, considering their current situation and the fact that this would only complicate an already complicated set up.

But he had to admit it was getting harder to hide and harder to cope, what with his close proximity at nearly all times to the cause of the disease.

Or. He supposed that wasn’t fair. After all, it’s not like it was Jay’s fault that Tim was in love with him.

Except it was more than that, had to be if he’d gotten sick because of it. You don’t start sprouting flowers in your lungs unless it’s something serious and “in love with” didn’t feel strong enough to truly convey what Tim was going through.

It was the type of love that made it hard to breathe when he looked into Jay’s eyes, that made it impossible to focus if their shoulders were touching, that made him know that he’d do anything to make the other man happy. It was deep and all encompassing and, goddamn it, made even thinking about his feelings for more than 5 seconds result in the choking up of flowers. 

(They were dandelions. Sometimes yellow, sometimes white and puffy. He guessed they were probably Jay’s favorite, and that made his heart swell uncomfortably)

And at first, sure, it was bearable. He’d realized his feelings for Jay slowly and then all at once, and then a week later woke up with a dandelion stuck in his throat. He’d had to run to the bathroom to gag it up and he knew what was happening only because someone in the hospital he’d been in had gotten it and he’d witnessed the flowers firsthand at lunch that day. She’d been transferred to a different inpatient facility the next day though, so he didn’t know how it progressed or how she’d ended up.

  After the first incident it started happening a couple times a day and, if he was within Jay’s sight, he’d cough into a tissue, wrap the flower(s) inside, and toss them in the trash. It was unpleasant but not horrible.

But then it got worse.

Suddenly he was full on vomiting dandelions at least once a day, intermittent bouts of violent coughing coming every other hour at least. It was absolute hell and he didn’t know how to stop it or how to make it not seem suspicious or worrying to Jay, especially when it was getting harder to hide the flowers when the trash cans became full of tissues with yellow and white peeking out.

Jay had tried a few times to ask if he was alright, voice hinting at the volume of the question even though he, by his own admission, wasn’t great at conveying what he meant when he spoke. And Tim, every time,  had given half hearted, exhausted, smiles and told him that yes, he was fine. It was just The Operator and maybe he needed to up his dosage of medication.

Jay always looked unconvinced but let it drop, reluctantly.

This song and dance lasted a couple weeks before the inevitable happened.

They had been talking, a normal conversation about memories that Tim was anxious about because they hadn’t really talked much since the flowers started sprouting. But it had happened organically and Jay looked happy to be interacting with him properly again and Tim couldn’t just bail.

But Jay did something he always did, a cute laugh and a glance to the side, nothing that should’ve been a big deal. That is, it wouldn’t have been if Tim wasn’t absolutely hopelessly in love with him, and if he didn’t find it adorable and painful and if at that moment his lungs hadn’t decided to betray him in the worst possible way.

But they did. Of course they did.

And before he could even process that it was happening he was coughing and choking, too sudden to cover his mouth, and white puffs were mingling with yellow dandelion heads on the ground by his feet.

Panicked, tears streaming down his face from the effort, he could barely hear Jay’s voice. He was asking if he was alright and asking, clearly confused and freaked out, about the flowers. Tim gestured wildly and even he didn’t know what the gestures meant.

By the time he’d finally expelled all the dandelions his throat was sore and raw and he felt lightheaded. 

 Clearing his throat one last time, and without glancing at Jay (if he did it would betray how scared he was), he laid back on his bed and rubbed at his eyes with his palms.

It was several moments before Jay, uncertain, spoke up again. His voice was soft and it hurt, god it hurt.

“What’s up with the flowers?”

Tim, despite himself, gave a bitter sort of laugh.

“It’s” he took a shaky breath, unsure if he even wanted to explain truthfully. But he might as well, right? Everything had been laid out, bare, and here he was. Vulnerable and exhausted.

“It’s a disease.” He said, unable to raise his voice. “It uh. It happens when you’re really in love with someone and it. Uh. It fills your lungs with flowers. The other person’s favorite flowers. Until your love is proven requited.” He dug harder at his eyes for a moment before dropping his hands onto his stomach. He felt sick, and not in the usual ways.

Jay was quiet for a while and Tim didn’t dare look up at him. He regretted ever saying anything, regretted not just leaving for a while to clear his head. How was he supposed to ask Jay to deal with this information all of a sudden? It was selfish and inconsiderate and it was naive of him to think he could just talk with him like everything was normal when he was like this and-

His thought cycle was interrupted.

“Who are you in love with?” 

Tim winced at the question, forcefully choking down a sob that probably would’ve brought with it an onslaught of flowers. He looked adamantly at the yellowed ceiling.

“Ah. Well.” He started, voice unsteady. “That would be. You.”

He heard Jay give a small gasp and, as he was preparing an apology of some sort, finally looked over to him. He looked shocked, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Tim couldn’t read his expression.

“Hey listen I’m s-” Tim said at the same time that Jay started with “I love y-”

They both looked at each other for a moment, taken aback.

“What?” Tim asked, pretty sure he’d misheard.

“Oh uh. I was gonna say that I. Love you too, man.” Jay said, more anxious now that Tim was looking at him.

“You...what? You do?’ This was honestly such an unforeseen outcome that Tim hadn’t dared to hope for, that he was at a loss. He pushed himself up on the bed, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Well...yea.” Jay said. “I’ve actually uh-” He paused to rifle around in his bag and pulled out….a ziplock bag with a flower in it? “I think I have the flower disease, too?”

It was Tim’s turn to be shocked.

“What?’ He said for the third time. “I mean. You do? For how long?” He leaned forward a bit, towards Jay, feeling a little hysterical.

Jay looked sheepish. “I coughed this up last night and didn’t know what was happening. I figured I should keep it until I figured out what was going on.”

“Wow. That’s. Damn.” Tim said eloquently, rubbing a hand down his face. “What the fuck.”

Jay gave a small laugh. “Right? I um. No matter how wild this whole thing is and how much it doesn’t seem like it can be real, I did think that it was maybe something to do with you. Because you said a few weeks ago that your favorite flower is an aster and that. Seems to be what this is”

Tim looked closer at the flower, a beautiful purple. It was indeed an aster.

It was quiet between them again for a few moments.

“We probably won’t cough up anymore.” Tim said finally. “If the feelings are requited the flowers are supposed to go away.” 

“Guess I lucked out, only coughing for a day.” Jay quipped, putting the bag back in his bag. Tim didn’t ask why he was keeping it.

“Yea, I’m honestly gonna fight you about it, man.” Tim said, smiling sincerely for what felt like the first time in months. He felt like he could pass out at any moment, a crushing weight having been lifted off of him.

“Listen, it’s not my fault I’m a little slow on the uptake. I didn’t know I was actually in love with you until last night.”

Tim shook his head, exasperated. “Unbelievable” He said even though it was very believable.

They both laughed. Maybe this would work out okay after all, in the end. Maybe they’d make it out together, stronger than they were before

[smallsmutblog]

Lesson Learned

Pairing:  Snermione (Snape x Hermione)                                                               

Warning: bullying, teacher x student    

     They slowly circled each other, holding their wands at the ready, tips almost touching. Snape glowered at Hermione. “You must block my mind, hide your thoughts from me. Don’t let me in,” he said again, in his sneering, contemptuous drawl; his smooth and velvety voice, as always, sending shivers up and down her body. “Ah,” she thought. “But that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

     It started two years ago, after one of Harry’s Occlumency lessons with Snape, when he had unintentionally caught glimpses into Snape’s mind. With his curiosity piqued, he ventured into the Pensieve, hoping to find Snape’s true loyalties. Instead, he witnessed a memory of Snape as a gangly, awkward, teenaged student at Hogwarts, being horribly bullied by Harry’s father and his friends. Unfortunately, Harry’s transgression did not go unnoticed as Snape caught him red-handed, and had exploded with anger. Harry could only imagine how humiliating it must have been for Snape to have this embarrassing moment exposed. Therefore, it came as no surprise to him when Snape immediately terminated his Occlumency lessons.

       Despite Harry’s hatred for Snape, he was actually extremely distressed at seeing his father and the other two people Harry trusted, Sirius and Lupin, treating Snape so cruelly. In a way, Harry almost felt sullied by their behavior, as if he himself were tainted by it. Mostly, though, he felt betrayed. Harry was glad when Snape cancelled the lessons. But Hermione, recognizing the enormity of the situation convinced Harry that he needed Occlumency lessons more than he needed his pride, if he was going to keep Voldemort from controlling his mind. She was right. He knew what he had to do.

       Harry went to Snape’s office and knocked on his door. Snape opened it. “Potter. What is it that you want?” he said, in a tone of pure contempt. “Sir, I…I want to talk to you. May I come in?” Snape consented to let him in, but did not ask him to have a seat, and asked, “Well? What is it?” Harry swallowed nervously. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated. “I…I want to…” he fumbled his words, almost losing his nerve. But he held tight to his Gryffindor courage, as the guilt for what his father had done was eating him up inside. He had to say it, if only for his own sake, to ease his own conscience. “I want say…that I’m sorry,” he finally said. Snape’s eyes opened a little with a look of surprise, raising one eyebrow in his usual fashion.

       “If you’ve come to apologize for your trespass into the Pensieve, you can save your breath,” Snape hissed. “You are a pompous brat, just like your arrogant, pig of a father. Your actions were inexcusable, and I have absolutely no intention of taking you back as a pupil of Occlumancy.” “No! That’s not what I meant,” Harry blurted out. “Oh? And what is it that you’re sorry about?” he asked facetiously, clearly enjoying this. “What I meant… What I mean is… I’m sorry…for what my father did.” Harry stopped, braving a glance at Snape, to see how he was taking this. Snape was sitting perfectly still, staring at him with what looked like disbelief. Harry continued. “For how he treated you. What he did; how he behaved. And Lupin, and Sirius. I don’t blame you for hating them. They deserved it!” He said this last with a strangled burst of pain and anger; anger that his dad and his friends could have been so cruel, and his pain at their betrayal of his idealized image of them.

       Harry waited uncomfortably while Snape continued to simply stare down at him, his expression going from amazement to eminent satisfaction. Apparently savoring the moment, he finally said, “Apology accepted.” Harry hoped that having realized he was being sincere Snape would offer him a second chance. He knew Snape had been asked to teach him Occlumency by Dumbledore, knowing he desperately needed the ability in order to protect himself from Voldemort. “Would you like to continue the lessons, then?” he asked, not without a slight scowl. Harry smiled in relief, and nodded in agreement.

        Harry continued his lessons, finally mastering Occlumency by the end of the year. The enmity between the two of them never completely healed, but it had lessened enough to allow them to work together. Then Dumbledore discovered the seven Horcruxes, and had enlisted Hermione, Harry, and Ron’s help in finding and destroying them all. Throughout July and August they had toiled at the arduous task, finally succeeding in destroying Voldemort just before the end of their summer holiday. “Holiday, indeed,” thought Hermione, snorting at the irony. Snape was offered the job of Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he had actually declined, to everyone’s astonishment. He had apparently realized that Potions was his true calling after all. Hermione had begun to see Snape in a different light after that. His amazing wizarding and potion making skills, as well as his undeniable courage in having acted as a double agent for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix couldn’t help but impress her. Her admiration for him, along with the compassion she already felt for him as a result of the childhood he suffered according to Harry slowly transitioned into feelings of deep sensual attraction.

       She began to long to be near him, to hear his silky, hypnotic voice speaking to her, and her alone, instead of to the whole class. It repulsed, and even frightened her. How could she like Professor Snape? It wasn’t just that he was so old; he was also completely hateful and repugnant, or at least he had been, for the first five years of her life as a student. She tried to shake it off, dismiss it as a silly schoolgirl infatuation. An appalling one, though, that she couldn’t share with anyone, most certainly not her two best friends, Harry and Ron. She had never been good at making friends, and she had grown more and more isolated as she grew older. Her friendship with Harry and Ron had been pure luck, she reckoned. But now they had their own lives and girlfriends as well, leaving Hermione isolated, with no one to help her make sense of her situation, nor to confide in. By the end of her sixth year, her feelings had intensified into something much more than a mere crush, or even infatuation. She was in love. She realized it was not just a physical attraction, although that was certainly a part of it. She loved him for his intellect; his sharp genius of a mind, as well as his sarcastic wit that she recognized as his shield against anyone seeing beyond his harsh exterior, into his true self. She herself had her own shield as well, namely the drive to excel and outdo everyone else at everything in order to hide her own insecurities.

       All throughout her sixth year, she had tried to convince herself that it was just a schoolgirl infatuation, and a warped one, at that; but it hadn’t worked. She was hopelessly, desperately, head over heels in love with the man. That year, Hermione had taken a sudden intense interest in Potions, even announcing at the end of the year that she intended to become a Potions Mistress. Ron and Harry had of course thought she was cracked. Her social life, never having been a priority in her life, had been completely abandoned. She had only been able to think of two things: her studies, and him. Now, one month into her seventh year, she had come up with the plan to ask him to give her private Occlumency lessons, thinking that it would allow her private time with him. She also wanted him to see into her mind, and what she felt for him. Her plan for tomorrow night’s lesson was to concentrate with all her might on how much she loved and desired him, not shielding her thoughts in any degree from him; while at the same time try to penetrate his mind to see if he had any such feelings for her in return.

       They continued to circle each other for another few moments. Hermione waited expectantly for him to cast the spell at any second, trying to be prepared for when he did. Suddenly, Snape yelled “Legilimens!” But Hermione was ready, and caught his movement in time to yell the same thing as the exact same time, at him. The force of their simultaneous spells created a blindingly intense light that exploded between their wands. They cringed with the force and the shock of it, dropping their wands, and shielding their eyes from the blazing light. Snape stared at her, wonder and joy suffused over his face, while she slowly blinked and came back to awareness of her surroundings. He had of course successfully blocked her attempted entry into his mind, she realized with disappointment.

        But she felt sure he had nevertheless still managed to succeed in penetrating her mind. Before she knew what he was doing, he grabbed her, and almost roughly pulled her towards him. She looked up into his face, his ever-impenetrable black eyes gazing down into hers with a look of total awe. Then suddenly he brought his head down to hers, and drew her mouth into his with kiss after hungry kiss. Her hands wound themselves around his neck, her fingers running through his surprisingly silky jet-black hair. His kisses continued, now traveling down the side of her neck. Her head tilted back in ecstasy, and she reveled in the feel of his warm mouth on her skin, leaving traces of wetness as it traveled along her neck. Then, blessedly, his mouth was back on hers, once more covering her with burning kisses and she was falling, melting into him. Her hands wound around his waist, and then up his back. She felt the cloth buttons of his black frock coat beneath her fingers, and a thrill ran through her body. How she had longed for the past year to touch them, not to mention unbutton them, one by one!

       Snape's hands slid up her arms, one hand caressing her shoulder, the other sensuously gliding up her neck and running through her hair. Cradling her head and the side of her face with his hand, he ran his thumb along the curve of her cheek. His other hand drifted down to the small of her back and drew her closer to him, causing his body to explode with long-pent up desire at the feel of her soft curves pressing against him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The astounding revelation he had received when he had looked into her thoughts had completely rocked him to the core. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that Hermione could actually return any of the feelings, much less the desires, that he had for her.

       And to discover that not only did she reciprocate those feelings and desires, but also that she returned them with such force, had left him reeling with stunned elation. It had just been too much. He hadn’t even known what he was doing, until he had found himself kissing her. Then he had been lost, totally powerless in the agonizing rush of desire that had flooded him. He hadn’t been able to control himself. But he knew it couldn’t be true, or at least not the way he had thought he had seen it in her thoughts. He knew what he had to do. Gathering his resolve, he pulled himself away from her mouth with an almost painful act of will, and pushed her a little away from him. “Hermione,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Miss Granger,” he corrected himself, a little late. “Please forgive me.”

       She looked at him, disappointment and longing in her unfocused eyes. She couldn’t speak; she was so filled with jubilant triumph at what had happened, as well as confusion at what he was saying now. The only thing she could think of was having his lips back on hers, filling her body with that exquisite feeling she had longed for. “What do you mean?” she managed to ask. The self-reproach, even self-loathing, was evident in his voice. “I have behaved…shamefully. You have my most sincere apology. I will understand if you feel you have to report this…incident…to the proper authorities. I shall take full responsibility…” “How can you say that,” Hermione interrupted him, “when you know now how I feel about you?” “Miss Granger! You do not know what you’re saying! You cannot possibly feel for me what you think you feel. And this must never happen again! For many reasons, not the least of which is that you are an eighteen-year-old schoolgirl, and I am your thirty-seven-year-old professor.” He spoke the four words “thirty-seven-year-old” as distinct, sharply biting words.

       His tone had reverted to the familiar reserved, and even haughty, tone that he almost always maintained. He continued, “The law is such that if even this one small…encounter…were ever discovered, I would not only be summarily dismissed from my job, but hauled into court at the Wizengamot, and probably even sent to Azkaban!” At these words, Hermione shuddered. She hadn’t realized what the repercussions of any kind of relationship between them would be, perhaps because she had never allowed herself to really believe that this could ever happen; it had just been an impossible fantasy. Azkaban! The wizard prison, where dementor guards roamed throughout the grounds, and the cells, depriving any person they passed of all hope and happiness, and filling them with utter despair, and the sense that they would never be free from the agony of their hopeless state. She couldn’t let that happen to him! She would die first! “Severus,” she whispered, her voice shaking with guilt. “Severus, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t think…” His arms lifted up slightly, and he leaned towards her. A thrill of delight went through her when she thought he was going to pull her back into another embrace. But then it looked as though he was fighting the urge to do so.

       To her disappointment, his will prevailed, and he said, a little more gently, “It is not your fault. Please do not think that. But as long as we do not let it happen again, all will be well.” His voice was so velvety smooth, and soothing, but his words were like poison darts piercing her heart. Never again? She looked up into his dark eyes, and could see the affection he held for her that they betrayed. She didn’t know how she could go on, without ever knowing his touch again. But she said, “All right. We won’t.” But how could she stand it? She didn’t know; she only knew she didn’t have any choice; at least right now. In nine months, though, she would graduate, she thought to herself. She would be almost nineteen, and maybe he wouldn’t think she was too young, then. But now was not the time to present this idea to him. Snape walked to the door to his chambers and opened it. She walked slowly to the doorway and out into the hall. Then she stopped and turned around to look at him once more. “Goodnight,” he whispered. Then he slowly shut the door until, with his gaze still upon her all the while, it closed completely.

[gimmesumsuga]

Pretend - Part Two

Below is a subsequent part to the Yoongi x reader one-shot ‘Pretend’.  

You can find part one here.

Summary - Yoongi’s your ex.  A particularly jealous ex, actually, who doesn’t take the blossoming relationship between you and Namjoon all too well.  

Pairings - Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader

Warnings - heavy on the angst (like I literally hate myself a little) and smut.

Word count - 5,8K+

Part One / Part Two / Part Three 

Namjoon’s disappeared by the time you’ve fled from the kitchen, your steps brisk and cheeks flushed, and as you enter the open plan living space of the dorm Hobi looks up from the comic he’d been reading.  Concern floods into his expression almost immediately.

“You alright?  You don’t look so good,” he comments, rolling up the comic with both hands and wringing it as though he’s anxious.  

“Did you see Namjoon?  Did he come back in here?”  you ask hurriedly, barely pausing to look Hobi in the eyes.  

“He went to his room, I think.”  Hobi stands from the sofa, discarding his reading materials on the sofa behind him and starting towards you, tilting his head.  “What the hell happened in there?”  

“Ask your asshole of a best friend,” you snap back, temper flaring as the memory of the hurt you’d seen on Namjoon’s face comes flooding back and makes your chest constrict.  You notice the way Hobi halts his approach on hearing your harsh words and another layer of guilt piles on top all the others.  It’s not his Hobi’s fault, not in any way, shape, or form, but you’re so wound up right now - physically, emotionally, sexually - that it’s not taking much to prompt you into an overreaction.  

“Sorry,” you sigh, shoulders sagging as you pull your coat tighter around yourself and send a tight smile Hobi’s way, trying to look apologetic.  He graciously smiles back.  

“I did try to stop him,” he tells you, mirroring your shrug, “For what it’s worth.”  

“At least you tried.”  You pause a moment, closing your eyes for just as second as you run your hand through your hair, trying to brace yourself for the inevitably awkward conversation you’re about to have with Namjoon.  What the hell are you going to be able to say about the mess he just walked in on?  

“I’ll talk to him.”  Hobi’s sweet, but you can’t imagine it’ll do much good.  You tell him so, and he just shrugs again, smiling kindly, ever the optimist.  You go to take your leave, heading for the door that will lead to you to the room Namjoon and Taehyung share, but before you can Hobi calls your name and makes you pause.  “You know he’s still crazy about you, right?���   You try to ignore the lump of emotion that catches in your throat, smiling sadly at the red-haired boy opposite you.  

“He has a funny way of showing it.”  

Namjoon’s door is closed when you come to it, and it’s very tempting to take that as a sign that you’re not welcome and just turn heel and run like the coward you know you are.  Your conscience won’t let you though; no matter how your feelings might linger for Yoongi, what you’ve felt lately for Namjoon is definitely real - whatever it may be - and you can’t stand the thought of him stewing away in there without apology or explanation.  

Gently, you knock.  

It’s Tae that opens the door, his soft brown hair sticking up slightly at the back and his eyelids heavy with recently disturbed sleep.  He murmurs your name, rubbing his eye with one hand as the other holds the door open.  

“What’s up?” he asks, his eyes suddenly widening when they focus on your neck.  You presume he must be taken in the hickeys you can still feel throbbing on your neck, and it’s a fight to keep your hand in your pocket rather than trying to cover them up.  Clearing your throat and bringing Taehyung’s attention back to your face, you fight the blush you can feel rising on your cheeks.

“Is Namjoon in there?”  Tae visibly hesitates, glancing at his feet, and even if he were to deny his roommates presence entirely you’d already know he was lying from just that little slip alone.  As luck would have it Namjoon decides to give himself away, speaking to you from inside the room.  

“It’s alright, Tae-ah.  Let her in.”  Taehyung nods just once, side stepping from the door to allow you entrance like a nightclub bouncer - albeit an unlikely looking one.

“Do you mind giving us a minute?” you say after you’ve entered, looking over your shoulder to the younger boy.  Once again he hesitates, looking to his friend and then leaving, closing the door behind him once Namjoon gives him a short nod.  

It’s doubtful that that Namjoon would’ve had the time to even start telling Taehyung what the matter is, but it doesn’t take a genius to read his expression and gather that something must’ve happened.  He’s on his bed with his back up against the wall, his long legs crossed, holding one of his plushy toys in his arms close to his stomach.  Despite Namjoon’s large stature and position as leader of the group you’ve never seen him look more childlike, and it breaks your heart.

Gingerly, you perch yourself on the edge of his bed, all too aware of his gaze settling on the lovebites on your neck.  You’re both silent for at least a good thirty seconds or so, though it feels like much longer as you watch him stare blankly at the marks decorating your skin.  Passive expression or not, you know the cogs in Namjoon’s mind will be turning.  They always are.  

“Joonie,” you begin, shifting slightly on the crisp bedsheets.  His eyes shift from your throat and back to up to your own, his features held open and receptive to what you have to say.  Honestly, you don’t deserve such kindness from him.  “What you just saw in there… that was a mistake.”  Namjoon remains quiet, presumably waiting for you to continue, but without having some kind of response from him you’re not really sure what to say next.  

“You and hyung were together a long time,” he finally says, his voice even and calm, “It’d be perfectly understandable for there to be some residual feelings left between the two of you.”

“There’s not,” you disagree quickly.   Namjoon raises a singular eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile that has you half-groaning and half-laughing all at the same time.  He’s too smart and knows you too well to believe anything like that, especially after what he just saw.  

“Ok, so maybe there is.  But I don’t want there to be, trust me on that.”  Again he waits for more from you, and this time you give it to him, shifting further up the bed to place your hand on the covers just to the side of his thigh.  An inch or two more to the right and your fingers would be resting atop of the soft faded denim of his jeans, and Namjoon watches your movement with caution in his eyes.  “Yoongi’s no good for me.”  

He looks up at you, gaze shifting between each of your eyes as he takes in the sincerity of your words and the sweetness that laces the small smile curving your lips.  

“You are though, Joonie,” you press, heart leaping when a brief, answering smile flashes across his face.  He looks down at his lap shyly as it happens but you don’t miss the all too fleeting appearance of a dimple in each cheek or the way they set your heart all aflutter.

“So what do you want to do?” he asks you once he’s managed to collect himself, loosening his grip on the cute plushie in his lap but not putting it aside just yet.  You know Namjoon’s probably asking more than just the immediate future - it’s impossible for him not to be thinking a thousand steps ahead, deep as he is - but that’s too much for you to even start getting your head around right now.  Taking a leap that’s probably as stupid as it is brave you reach out and brush your fingers against Namjoon’s, smiling when he returns that touch.  

“Are you still hungry?”

You and Namjoon actually had a very nice evening together once he’d had a little time to relax and warm up.  You’d let him chose the restaurant where he’d most like to eat, eager to please and probably overcompensating a little, truth be told, when you’d also let Namjoon order you a whole host of weird and wonderful dishes that you’d never usually try.  Luckily enough most of them turned out to be very nice, and the fact that you were so pleasantly surprised by them had only seemed to cheer him up all the more.  

Honestly, even if you hadn’t have been trying so hard Namjoon knows he’d have had trouble staying upset with you for more than five minutes anyway.  This inability to harbour any bad feelings toward you is an unfortunate side effect borne of him having fallen hopelessly in love with you almost immediately after the two of you’d first met.  He’d meant to tread slowly and carefully to win you over, to gain your friendship first and judge whether or not dating an idol was something you’d felt you could do.  It was a big ask, Namjoon knew that, but by the time he’d mulled it over and actually decided to make a move Yoongi had already sauntered his way into your heart and stolen you for himself.  

Not that Namjoon could begrudge him that, really.  You were gorgeous and kind and available, and Namjoon had always kept his feelings to himself too often to expect his friend to know not to pursue you.  He’d waited quietly, secretly hoping that one day he might get another chance and loathing himself for harbouring such ill wishes against one of his members.

Still, guiltily or not, Namjoon hadn’t been able to keep at bay the hopefulness he’d felt when you’d told him the relationship had ended, and had been powerless to stop his heart from leaping when you’d gradually started to spend more and more time at his side.  He wasn’t oblivious to the dark looks Yoongi had been casting his way, but as far as he was concerned his friend had already had plenty of chances with you; more than he’d deserved.  It wasn’t his fault Yoongi had messed it up, and Namjoon wasn’t about to let him mess it up for him, either.

That’s probably why he’d been so willing to let this afternoon’s little indiscretion go, and why now, on the walk back to the dorms, he lets you slip your cold fingers between his to hold his hand - a little gesture that has his stomach twisting in knots of excitement.  Sure, maybe you do still have some lingering feelings for his friend, and deep down Namjoon knows that embarking on another relationship right now is probably the last thing you should do, but he’s waited so long for a chance to be with you that that little sensible voice of reason whispering in his ear can barely be heard.  Especially not over the thundering of his heart when you stand opposite each other on the doorstep; a sweet, simple smile on your face.  

“I-uh-I had a really nice time,” Namjoon tells you, looking down at you from his greater height with a nervous look in his eyes.  He can’t seem to meet yours properly, making eye contact and then glancing away the very next second, down at his shoes or the pavement, and you can’t help but smile all the more at his bashfulness.  

“You sound like I’m dropping you off after prom,” you tease lightly, squeezing his hand in your own.  He huffs an embarrassed laugh, giving his head a little shake as his cheeks blush pink, even less able to look at you now than he was before.  “But I did too.”   

You really did, actually.  You and Namjoon have very rarely ever had real time alone - there’s usually always someone at least loitering in the background - but now that you have it’s hard not to enjoy the blatant adoration Namjoon has for you.  How could you have not noticed it before?  The way he hangs off your every word and gazes at you when he thinks you’re not looking… it’s so much more than anything you’d ever received from Yoongi.   And sure, your heart doesn’t quite race the same way when you stand on your tiptoes and press your lips gently against Namjoon’s soft ones, but the look on his face when you pull away and the warmth of affection you feel blossoming in your stomach seems enough to compensate for it.  

“Can I come in?” you ask softly.  Namjoon seems powerless to say no, rendered mute by the unexpectedness of your kiss and his own shyness.  He lets go of your hands to fumble with the door keys as you watch on with a fond smile and then follow in after him into the warmth of the dormitory, blinking when he turns on the lights.  

The whole house seems almost eerily quiet as Namjoon pushes the door shut behind you.  The rest of the group must’ve either turned in early for the night or else gone out, but either way it appears that the two of you are more or less alone.  You slip off your coat, almost startling when you feel Namjoon’s large hands helping you to take it off in a gentlemanly manner that you’re really not accustomed to, and he smiles at you sweetly as he gestures for you to hand him your scarf too, hanging them up neatly in a cupboard.  

He really is so sweet, so kind… so much more than you deserve, and you so want to have the same strength of feeling for Namjoon that you see in his eyes when he turns back to face you with a needlessly apprehensive smile.  You don’t want to spend a single second more wasting thoughts on a boy who could never love you when there’s a man stood right in front of you who’s practically holding his heart in his hands.

“It’s a little late for a movie, I guess?” Namjoon offers as you trail behind him into the living room.  

“That's ok,” you shrug, “It’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”  That’s a lie - there’s an assignment sat at home waiting to be finished - but right now you’d much rather spend a little longer by Namjoon’s side.  Everything feels… warmer when you’re with him.  

“We’ve just got one problem.”

“What’s that?” you ask as you flop down onto the sofa, relishing in the way it sags comfortably underneath you.  

“Jungkook’s made off with the ps4 again,” he tells you with a crooked smile as he faces you, straightening up from where he’d been squatting at the base of the TV.  

“Of course he has.”  You roll your eyes and Namjoon chuckles, coming to perch on the edge of the sofa next to you, his eyebrows lifting when you reach over to take his hand, bringing it into your lap between the two of yours.  Smiling warmly at him, you hesitate for just a second before suggesting, “Don’t you have a DVD player in your room?”  

You’re not sure why it feels so different suggesting that the two of you spend time in his room together; it’s not like you’ve not done it before.  Ok, so maybe it’s never quite been just the two of you, and never since the lines of your friendship started to blur, but still.  Namjoon must feel it too, though, because you can see the flicker of hesitation that crosses his face before he covers it with an adorable smile.  

“Sure, yeah, good plan.”  He stands, pulling you with him.  

“Can we watch me before you again?”  Namjoon laughs, looking down at you past his shoulder as you head towards him room.

“Are you sure?  You were kind of a mess last time,“ he questions, his tone teasing and playful.

“Shut up,” you huff, knocking your shoulder into his arm, “You cried too.”

“I never said I didn’t.  It just hurts so good,” he says emphatically, screwing his eyes shut in an expression of bliss as he pushes open his bedroom door and leads you in, laughing.  

It’s a relief when you take note of Taehyung’s absence.  You like spending time with him - you like spending time with all of them, save Yoongi - but you’re sort of glad not to have to worry about any judgement from Namjoon’s roommate right now, however mild it might be.  

You get yourself comfy on Namjoon’s bed as he puts on the movie, settling the cute grey plushie he’d been clutching onto earlier in your lap and giving it a squeeze, smiling at him as he climbs on next to you and sits at your side, ankles crossed.  He puts on his square-framed glasses as it starts and wriggles himself to get comfy, oblivious to the way you’re watching him with affection blossoming in your chest.  

“Such a dork,” you murmur to yourself, smiling fondly.  

“You say something?” he asks distractedly and you simply shake your head and then lay it bravely on his chest, folding your hands in your lap.  You know you aren’t imagining the way Namjoon’s heart rate starts to accelerate in response to your close proximity.  It pounds against your ear through his sweater, and you’re sure you feel him take a deep, bracing breath before he moves his arm to wind it around your shoulder and pull you close.  

You’ve never been this close to Namjoon before; close enough to smell his aftershave and have the warmth of his body seep its way into yours.  It’s nice, comforting, and when he starts to absent-mindedly trace his fingertips along your arm it totally distracts you from paying any kind of attention to the movie.  You snuggle closer, cautiously placing your hand on his stomach and gathering a small, soft, handful of his sweater in your palm.

“You’re not concentrating,” Namjoon whispers suddenly, leaning down so that the warm words are spoken directly into your hair.  

“Yes I am,” you deny.  His answering chuckle rumbles in your ear, lips skirting along your hairline and making all the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“It’s been like… fifteen minutes since you looked at the screen.”  That’s true enough.  You’ve been watching your fingers as they’ve played with his sweater, or else letting your eyes travel the length of his long, lean body, totally unaware that he’d been watching.  A blush rises on your cheeks.  “What are you thinking about?”  

You hesitate, leaning back into the crook of his arm far enough to be able to tilt your head back and look up at him.  

“Just… how nice this feels.”  Namjoon smiles, cheeks dimpling and eyes creasing as he gently brushes his thumb against your cheekbone.  

As time goes by Namjoon seems to be conquering a little of his shyness.  He says nothing in response to your whisper, but he does initiate your second kiss, leaning down to place his lips on yours.  The moment they touch you feel the unmistaken stirrings of arousal growing in you, and the strength of it is something you hadn’t expected, heat that had begun in your pelvis working its way outward to the very tips of your fingers.  

You kiss him back with a hunger Namjoon doesn’t anticipate, your hand working its way up from his stomach and into his hair, keeping his mouth fixed on yours, and when you open up your mouth for him to deepen the kiss he groans softly into it.  Namjoon’s hand slipping from your shoulder and onto your waist makes you shudder deliciously, his tongue tentatively brushing against yours.  

It’s unclear for how long the two of you are kissing before your hands start to get a little restless.  You’re not usually the kind of girl to be so bold after a first date, but with Namjoon it’s… different.  You’ve known him a long time, been friends a long time, and you trust him enough to know he won’t simply discard you after whatever may happen tonight.  That, and your desperation to rid yourself of the memories of this afternoon - of Yoongi’s hands on your skin - makes you act a little out of character, reaching down to palm the erection you know Namjoon’s been hiding in his jeans.  You already knew you weren’t alone in your arousal, not with the way his breath had gotten heavy and his lips had swollen, and the hard bulge you find underneath his zipper only serves to confirm your suspicions.  

Namjoon takes a gentle hold of your wrist, halting you, mumbling your name against your lips.  

“I don’t want… I don’t want us to rush anything,” he tells you, voice pitched low with desire..  

“I want to,” you persist, kissing Namjoon’s thick bottom lip and then nudging your nose against his.  “Please.”  You open up your eyes, looking up at him past your eyelashes and noting how dilated his pupils are behind the lenses of his glasses.  

He doesn’t have a hope of resisting you, not after how long he’s dreamt of this. 

Namjoon releases your wrist and cups your face in his hands to kiss you once more, only pausing to wrench off his glasses and toss them aside when they get in the way.  You’re grabbing him through his jeans, squeezing the girthy length of him and moaning softly when Namjoon starts to hesitantly grope your breast through your shirt.  

Namjoon’s hands are so much more uncertain than Yoongi’s ever were.  Yoongi would’ve been knuckle deep inside you by now - even if it was your first time - but it takes Namjoon a good five minutes or so to even work up the courage to slip his hand inside your shirt to touch you properly, despite the way he’s groaning and pushing into you.  You’re aching for him to lose some of that such carefully controlled composure of his and give you a little bit of that roughness you’d become so accustomed to with Yoongi.  

Mentally, you scold yourself for even comparing the two; Namjoon and Yoongi are so different from each other in so many ways.  It’s part of the reason you came to admire Namjoon in the first place, so it’d be ridiculous to expect him to be a similar sort of lover.  You shouldn’t even want him to be, anyway.  

“Is this ok?” Namjoon asks softly, the hem of your shirt in his hand.  You nod, swallowing in anticipation, and his sweet smile momentarily disappears from view when he eagerly pulls your shirt up and over your head.  Once he’s stripped you of your bra and leggings and left you sat next to him in just your panties Namjoon just sits back and looks at you, the look on his face so full of adoration that you start to blush under the weight of it.  “You are so… beautiful,” he tells you sweetly, and your blush only gets darker when he lays you back on the bed gently, leaning over you.

“Namjoon-” you start, your palms placed on his chest.  You’re half a second from calling this whole thing off when he kisses you again, effectively silencing you and any of the protests that might’ve fallen from your busy lips.  It’s not that you don’t want to do this - not at all - it’s just that the love you’d seen shining in his eyes a second ago has caught you completely and utterly off guard and suddenly you’re questioning whether this has been a good idea from the start.    

You like Namjoon, you do, but his feelings are clearly so much stronger than yours and you’d hate for them to inadvertently get hurt.  As much as you hate the things that Yoongi has done... as vehemently as you’d spat those words at him earlier, and though you hate to admit it; you’re still hopelessly in love with that boy.   Yoongi was right; what are you doing?

Namjoon pulls back, stripping himself off his shirt and tossing it onto the floor before starting to make short work of his belt, biting his bottom lip as he looks down at the way you’re laid out flushed and breathless beneath him.  Doubtful or not, as Namjoon shucks off his jeans and lays himself back on top of you, capturing your mouth with his hand in your hair, you feel as though things are too far gone to stop now.  Whether it be right or wrong or the most stupid thing you’ve ever done in your life, you don’t want him to.

Namjoon’s body is more impressive than you’d ever imagined it to be, toned and tanned and so warm pressed against yours, and the swell of his cock confined inside his boxershorts feels so heavenly as he grinds it into you, laid between your spread legs.  You feel the press of his lips on your neck, your fingers gripping onto his broad shoulders, and for a second it feels just like Yoongi’s mouth did earlier.  You hear yourself moan even as you curse your traitorous mind for allowing the image to ever enter your thoughts.  You don’t want Yoongi to be right, you don’t want to lie here imagining him when there’s a perfectly wonderful guy already in your arms.  

“Namjoon,” you moan, forcing his name out from between your lips as you feel the tips of his fingers slip inside the waistband of your panties.  The warm, slick wetness dripping from you eases the passage of Namjoon’s long fingers as the ease inside, and the heel of his hand grinding against your clitoris feels too good to be true as he simultaneously curls them inside you, huffing worshipful words into the crook of your neck.  He’s good at this - really good at this - so why can’t you get Yoongi out of your god damn head?

“Joonie-will you fuck me? Please?” you plead, surprised by the desperation you hear in your voice.  Namjoon clearly registers it and takes it to mean that you’re so eager for him that you can wait no longer,  and he obligingly rids any remaining layers that are keeping the two of you apart with slightly shaking hands.  

Thank goodness he doesn’t know what’s really going through your head; that the reason you’re so needful is that you’re hoping and praying that Namjoon’s touch will rid you of the memory of the ones that came before.

He leans over you, reaching over to grab what you presume is a condom from his bedside table before you grab a hold of his forearm, stopping him.  

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him when he frowns in confusion, and at your quietly spoken statement his eyebrows go the opposite way.  

“Are… are you sure?” Namjoon hesitates, sitting back on his heels, his cock standing tall against his stomach and shining with precum at the tip.  You don’t answer, but you do sit up on your elbows and reach out to touch him, stroking your hand up and down his slightly curved length, pulling his foreskin back off of the swollen, weeping head.  “No-one’s let me go in raw before…”  His breath hitches, eyes closing for just a second as you tighten your grasp.

“You’ll love it,” you purr, and Namjoon’s lost once again, all too easily led.

Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?  Why are you doing something so intimate with him when a second ago you were doubting whether you should even do it at all?  You know this can’t end well, but you still welcome him back into your arms and greet him a dishonest smile.  God, you’re just as bad as Yoongi.  

Namjoon lines himself up with your core, promising to soothe the ache that’s burning there, and you close your eyes as he leans in to kiss you softly, tipping your chin up in encouragement.  He starts to slowly push inside, groaning lowly as he does so, and run your fingers through the soft hair at the nape of neck as you stretch and clench around him.  God, you feel so wonderfully, blissfully full.  

“G-god, you feel s-so good,” Namjoon stutters against your mouth once you’ve taken him to the hilt, wrapping your thighs around him.  You dig your heels into his buttocks, grabbing onto his shoulders.  

“Move,” you encourage, words hitching as he starts to pull out, spurred on by you, “God, Joonie, fuck me.  Fuck me.”  He moans sinfully, hands fisting the pillow either side of your head as he thrusts back inside at your command.  

The power coming from his thighs and his hips has your back bowing from the bed in no time, the sheer girth of his cock inflicting a burn that you can’t even begin to get used to, and it feels so, so good.  You get lost in the rhythmic grind of your bodies, the overlapping sounds of your heavy breaths, moans of pleasure and lewd sounds of your love-making, encouraging Namjoon with each pull of your hands or flex of your hips.  

“Shit,” Namjoon curses only ten minutes in, pushing back on one of your thighs to get even deeper, shoving his face into the pillow, “I’m not gonna last, you feel too good baby, I can feel - god - I can feel everything.  You’re so wet.”

“Just a little longer,” you gasp, kissing his cheek and his hair, anything you can reach until he turns his head so you can kiss his lips.  You won’t last long either, not after the earlier events of today still playing in the back of your mind and the inevitable excitement that comes with this being your first time with Namjoon.  He picks himself up off the pillow, holding himself above you on extended arms so he can angle his thrusts even better, simultaneously increasing their pace.

“Are you gonna cum on my cock, baby?” Namjoon asks you through gritted teeth, the dirty words sounding uncharacteristic as they fall from his mouth.  Clearly Namjoon’s tongue gets a little bit looser when he’s nearing his high, and you can’t say that you mind. You can feel your orgasm building as he pummels into you, frowning with the effort of it, and as that pleasure is growing and building between your legs a bead of sweat rolls down Namjoon’s nose and drops onto your skin.  

“It’s ok baby, I still pretend my hand is your pretty little pussy all the time.”  

The memory of Yoongi’s voice comes out of nowhere but you’re powerless to stop it, nearly mindless as the crest of your orgasm threatens to break, and when you shut your eyes it’s Yoongi you see, that lustful smirk of satisfaction he always wore when watching you fall apart painted on his face.   

“Come on baby, cum on my cock.”  You know it’s Namjoon speaking, really, but somehow all you hear is Yoongi, and it’s the thought of it being his thrusts that as starting to stutter inside you which finally pushes you over the edge, crying out and grabbing onto shoulders that are too broad to belong to him.  

“God, you look so… shit - I’m gonna cum,” Namjoon rambles as your high starts to fade.  You continue to cling to him as he moves, suddenly drowning in guilt rather than pleasure, and even before Namjoon’s managed to finish you’ve got tears spilling from your eyes that you’re desperately trying to blink away.  “I wanna cum inside… let me?”  You nod your consent against his shoulder, pursing your lips together as your throat burns with the self-loathing you’re trying to hold back, and Namjoon has no idea what you’re wrestling with as he finally cums, spilling inside you with a long, drawn out moan that should make you smile rather than want to cry more.  

Somehow, you manage to pull yourself together by the time Namjoon finally manages to pry himself out of the pillow to look down at you, a silly, love-drunk smile on his face.  He totally misses the redness of your eyes or the slight wobble of your chin and simply kisses you sweetly and chastely, thumb brushing your cheek.  

“You’re incredible,” he tells you, and all you can do is smile weakly back in the face of his sincerity and try not to to wince as he pulls out of you and slumps down onto the bed next to you.  Oh, if only he knew.  He wouldn’t be looking at you the way he’d have gotten a glimpse inside your head during that.  “Was that ok?” Namjoon asks quietly, mistaking your frown for a look of dissatisfaction.  

“It was-” You have to clear your throat, voice cracking with emotion before you flash him a crooked, false smile.  “It was great, really.”  

“Do you need a drink?  Some water?  I’ll go get you some, hang on.”  Namjoon’s up and pulling on his boxershorts before you’ve even had time to disagree, smiling warmly at you as he unlocks and open his bedroom door and then tiptoes out into the hallway, leaving you alone.   

For a few seconds you just stare blankly at the ceiling, half-heartedly wondering if the others are home and hoping they won’t be.  You wouldn’t want Namjoon to go running into them half-naked and smelling of sex - how exactly would he go explaining that?  Still, you suppose the others are going to find out about you sooner or later.  Clearly Namjoon isn’t expecting this to be a one time thing, and if it’s not, then what does that make you?  Are you his girlfriend now?  What the hell is Yoongi gonna think about that?  

Before you’ve even really thought it through you’re leaning over the side of Namjoon’s bed and grabbing your phone from where you’d left it on the floor, subconsciously acknowledging how grotesque it is that you’re opening up a woefully empty chat screen with Yoongi even as you’ve got his friends cum smearing on your thighs.  

‘I went out with Namjoon,’ you type, fingers tapping faster than your brain can tell you that this is clearly a bad idea - one of many today, ‘And I fucked him, just like you said.’

You send it, staring at the screen and biting your lip before adding more spiteful words.  

‘He made me cum.  Twice.’  Yes, a lie, but you don’t care.  You just want to rub it in as much as possible, only just about managing to keep yourself from telling Yoongi how you let Namjoon finish inside and settling with - ‘He’s a better fuck than you ever were.’  - instead.  

Retribution comes all too swiftly.  Within seconds a little blue double tick appears to tell you Yoongi’s read your messages, and now the bar across the top says he’s typing and it feels like you can’t breathe, especially when you can hear Namjoon coming back down the corridor, humming happily to himself.  

‘And yet here you are, texting me.’  You blink at the screen, burning with shame.  ‘Good job pretending, babygirl.’

I’ve clearly opened this up to becoming a fully fledged fic haven’t I?  Although I’ll admit, I have no damn idea where it’s going! 

Anyway, I apologise for the sheer amount of angst.  Like I said, I hate myself a little right now.  

Sorry Joonie, baby <3 <3