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emwritesstuff · 4 years ago

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housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this. (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #emwrites

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

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Tomato - Tomato (one-shot)

Synopsis: One is an international rock-star. The other is his loyal assistant. Both are complete morons in love. Also - she’s allergic to tomatoes, and it is important.

This started off as something completely else. hope you enjoy :D

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Assistant!Reader

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Warnings: two idiots pining for one another, swearing, mentions of allergies and EpiPens

Word count: 3492

Being an assistant to someone famous wasn’t all glamourous parties and wild nights out with celebrities. It was scheduling last minute flights and not sleeping for three days straight as you packed a million bags and then repacked because their stylist sent you knew pieces and the old ones no longer fit the aesthetic of the week. It was also making sure that they were up by six AM with a hot coffee at their bedside ready to help them wake up as you lay out a detailed plan of the day down to the minute, while you yourself basically only had a two-hour nap because you had to finish off 568 handwritten notes to be sent out to each of the contacts in their phone. Or at least that’s what Y/N’s life was like being the personal assistant to none other than the modern-day prince of rock Harry Styles. Said rockstar was actually still asleep when Y/N entered his room, ripping open the curtains and letting in the rising sun. He groaned, pulling up the bedsheets that’d ridden down his form during the night. “Not that I don’t like seeing your gorgeous face in the mornings….” he mumbled into the covers. “But I don’t like seeing your face in the mornings when they start at six bloody AM.” Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to get rid of the sleep that still lingered in her own body. “You were the one that said you’re fine with seeing Lambert at eight for a fitting.” “When did I say that?” Harry scoffed, only the top of his messy bedhead seen from the cocoon he’d built around himself. “Would you like me to pull up the text messages, the calendar or the e-mails?” Even with her back turned as she rummaged through his closet for him to put on some clothes, she could sense the middle finger he threw at her, and she smiled. Despite everything, despite the zero sleep and stress always coursing through her veins, Y/N loved working for him. He treated her as a friend, not just some lackey he paid to, but most importantly, comparatively to the other people she’d worked for in the same line of business – he treated her as a human. If something went over the deadline, Harry didn’t scream or yell at her and tell Y/N how incompetent she was, instead he asked what kind of help or assistance she needed to get the job done, or maybe if she just needed some time off to gather herself and look at the problem with fresh eyes. “I hate how organised you are,” Harry groaned, finally throwing the covers off. “If I wasn’t, you’d be in a ditch somewhere.” She heard him scoff and two feet plop against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards her. “Is that how little faith you have in me?” “You don’t even know what day it is!” “Who does in these times?” Y/N shrugged her shoulders and handed him a pair of boxers, some loose jeans, and a flowery Hawaiian shirt. “Are you telling me I’m wrong though?” She looked over to her side, a smirk playing on her lips while he squinted his green eyes at her. “No, but it doesn’t mean I like getting called out, especially this early in the morning.”

With a roll of her eyes and a shove at his shoulder for him to move to the bathroom, Y/N handed him the clothes, moving downstairs to start making him some light breakfast and get herself a cold glass of water. You see, she’d been working as his assistant for close to two years, and they’d grown not only as people around one another, challenging their beliefs and world views, but as friends too. And, well, Y/N would be lying if the emotions hadn’t evolved from platonic to falling in love. Not that she’d ever admit it. He was an international sensation, and she was the girl who got him vegetarian croissants at the airport. She dragged a hand down her face as she clicked the stove on and took out a carton of eggs from the fridge. Y/N knew how he liked his omelette to the T, mostly because when she’d spent the first night of quarantine with him a year prior right as the pandemic had started, Harry had wanted to do something nice because she couldn’t go and see her family any more, so he’d gotten up at seven to make breakfast for both of them. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked if she had any allergies, so as he added bits of tomatoes, parsley, cheese and scallions, Harry hadn’t expected Y/N’s eyes to go wide at the first bite as she dropped the fork. “Harry…” Her tone had been cautious. “What’s in this?” He was sweating. Was his cooking really that bad? He just wanted to do something nice and there he was screwing everything up. “ ‘S just some of my favourite things. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, I just thought you’d like it.” “I do, but this tastes like it has tomatoes in it.” He nodded. “Yeah. It does.” Gently she smiled at him and pushed the plate a bit further away. “Could you grab me a coat, and if you have any – an EpiPen?” “An Epi – oh shit!” When the realisation hit him, Harry was jumping out of his seat, running to one of the cupboards and rummaging through in a panic all the while apologies flew non-stop from his mouth. Y/N in the meantime had gathered her purse and mask, making a call to the nearest hospital to explain the situation to which they responded they’d be waiting for her arrival. “I’m so sorry!” Harry ran up to her, a first-aid kit in his shaking hands. “Please don’t die! I didn’t want to kill you, I promise! I just wanted to make you some breakfast cause you do so much for me, and now you’re stuck here, and – oh god,” he cried. “I’m going to be prosecuted for killing my assistant.” She didn’t mean to, but the snort came out of her nose either way. “Harry.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please calm down. I’m not going to die.” “You’re allergic!” “Yes, I am, but I only had a small bite. The ER is just a precaution.” Y/N took his palms in hers and squeezed them. “Now take a deep breath with me…” They did so, holding it for five seconds and letting it out for eight. “And calm down a bit. I’ll go give myself the shot, and then I’ll drive to the hospital.” “Let me,” Harry begged. “Please, let me at least drive you to the emergency room. God, I almost killed you with an omelette, it’s the least I can do. I – I could also help you with the shot, I won’t hit an artery, I promise -” “Harry, you’re barely coherent. Not to say anything, but you’d have a bigger chance of killing me in a car crash, than from that tomato.” Y/N gave him a smile. “I’m gonna be fine.” With that, she left him to venture into the bathroom and did the unpleasant part of stabbing herself in the thigh to alleviate her body from the allergy symptoms. She sat there for around five minutes before she felt that the swelling of her tongue and itching in her throat was starting to subside, which meant the epinephrine was working. “Okay,” she huffed, taking her purse from the couch where Harry had been sitting, hugging the accessory. “I’ll be back in probably around two hours. Do we need anything from the store?” He shook his head. “Just come back home, please.” Y/N would never admit how her heart thundered in her chest when Harry said to come back ‘home’. “I will.” She promised. “Don’t you worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Styles. The money’s too good.” She winked at him and then left Harry pouting on the couch, but she couldn’t get through the door, before he jumped up, yelling, “wait! Do I need to get rid of every tomato in the house?” “No,” she laughed. “I’m good to be around them. Even touch them. ‘S just my insides that don’t agree with it when they meet.” “Okay.” He nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll uh – I’ll be waiting. I’ll make you something else.” “There’s no need for that, Harry.” His eyes widened at her words. “I swear I’m not trying to murder you!” “Oh my god,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just – just relax. Okay. I’ll send you hourly updates.” He bit his lip. “Make it every ten minutes.” “Harry –,” “Please?” The way he was giving her puppy dog eyes melted her heart. With an eye-roll, Y/N waved at him and promised to update her boss at every possible moment and confirm that he hadn’t, in fact, been the reason for her demise. Well, he was the reason for the demise of her low standards in men, having taken them and thrown them up to the Moon, but unless her feelings were miraculously requited or if one of the Marvel characters, she was obsessed with came to life, she’d have to stick to what was available. And in her mind, that wasn’t Harry. “What are you thinking about?” His voice startled Y/N out of the memory, and she shook her head, adding salt and pepper to the beaten eggs. She shrugged. “Just about that time a year ago where you secretly tried to off me because you were too nice to say you didn’t wanna quarantine together.” The groan he let out was of royal embarrassment, and it put a wide smile on her face, as she took one of the forsaken fruits and started to chop the red ball into small pieces. “You’ll never let me live it down, are you?” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Your failed murder attempt?” She snorted. “Of course not! It’s like you don’t watch the crime shows and murder documentaries when I have them on. You really haven’t learned anything.” Harry stuck his tongue out at her and moved to her side, dropping some chives into the mix as well. “Well given how it wasn’t a murder attempt, I wouldn’t consider it a fail.” Her hip bumped his, and only then did Y/N really give him a once-over. As always, he looked amazing in whatever was on his body, but what made him even cuter in her eyes was the sleepiness still lingering in him. Harry’s movements were a little bit sluggish, eyes half-closed and small sighs passing his lips as he sipped onto the coffee she’d come to his place with. The shirt sat loosely on his body, the first two buttons left open while he’d tucked the bottom of it into the jeans, having found a Gucci belt and cinched it around his waist, giving it a more eighties look rather than the sixties vibe he usually had with his suits. The brown hair was still messy and dishevelled, and Y/N could barely, just barely restrain herself from running her fingers through it, but what she didn’t know Harry was struggling just as much. All he wanted to do was pull out the bottom lip Y/N had gotten in between her teeth and kiss her senseless, to have her fingers dig into his arms and leave crescent shaped imprints on his skin. “So, uh…” He had to start a conversation otherwise his mouth would find itself on Y/N’s mouth in a second. “What’s Lambert got in his schedule? How many outfits is he thinking?” “Two or three, I think,” she said, pouring the mixture on the pan and letting the slow sizzle erupt around them. “He’s got this one suit which I think you’ll really like – all leather, but it needs to be altered.” Harry hummed, and for a second both of them relished in the domestic feel of it all. They’d had many moments like it before, especially during the spring and summer seasons of 2020, and Y/N couldn’t help but relish in her memories at them. “Harry?” It was like her voice snapped him out from a trance. “Could you pass me a plate please?’ “Uh, yeah,” he stammered for a moment and then nodded, wordlessly going to a cupboard and taking out a white marbled plate. That single piece of kitchenware probably cost more than her life insurance, but it was definitely aesthetic if nothing else. Silently Y/N plopped the omelette onto the plate, placing it on the kitchen counter and went to get him a fork, however when she turned around, he was facing her, chewing quite agressively on the inside of his cheek. “You okay?” she asked, coming closer. “I can call Lambert, reschedule it for later. He wouldn’t be too happy about having to wake up and then – “ But Harry shook his head. “It’s not that.” “Then what?” He didn’t say anything. It was like he was trying to decipher the best course of action, and when he ultimately did, Y/N was pressed up against the counter, Harry’s forehead against hers with two ring-clad hands cupping her cheeks. “Harry,” she breathed, out her lips brushing his making the air in her lungs hitch. “What are you doing?” “Something I’ve been dying to do for a year now. If you let me that is.” “I -,” The words were muddled up in her head. Of course, Y/N wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to ravish every part of her body. The fantasies and dreams she’d had at night would be incriminating proof if her feelings were on trial, but despite it all, her brain was usually in charge and would overrule any decision made by her heart. “Harry, we can’t.” She whispered, voice breaking. “I -,” Horror morphed onto his features as he took a step back. “Did I misread the signals? Did I do something you don’t wan –“ “No.” She grabbed onto his cheeks, trying to calm him down, his body practically melting into hers. “I do.” She didn’t need to explain what she meant. He understood. “So much it hurts me sometimes… but Harry, you’re my boss. My employer. It… it wouldn’t be right.” “Why? How can it not be right, when it feels like the rightest thing in the world?” “Because, Harry,” she huffed. “You’re my boss. And what’s worse – I love working for you!” That made both of them laugh, the tone of her voice as if she was more annoyed than anything else. “ ‘Nd why’s that bad?” He nudged her nose with his. “I’d hope my employees like working with me. What kind of a person would I be if I thrived on them being miserable?” “Because if I didn’t, quitting would be easy.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “And if I quit there’d be nothing stopping us from dating.” Harry bit his lip, finger trailing along her cheekbone. “There’s nothing stopping us now either. There is no clause in your contract that says you can’t date people who you work for or with. Sarah’s with Mitch, and they’re the happiest they’ve ever been. They’re even having a baby…” Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know. But that’s different. They’re on equal levels. You and I, however… I don’t want people to think I got my job because I slept with you, or some shit. It’s bad enough some already do so.” His brows furrowed, and Y/N saw how his jaw clenched. “Who?” “Strangers.” She shrugged. “I know you don’t look at comments like that online, but I see them. My DMs are filled with that. Gossip magazines. The point is – there are already unsubstantiated rumours about us. This would give them the confirmation they’d need.” “How can it confirm something that’s not true?” “There are still people who believe vaccines cause autism. Even when their ‘proof’ has been discredited and shown to be just complete bullshit, most don’t like to admit they’re wrong, so they’ll look for whatever tells them they’re right.” Harry huffed throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. “So, where does that leave us? In love, but without being able to do anything about it? Because I can’t.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to just pass you by without kissing you, or not pull you into the bed when you wake me up, or press you against the wall and not have my head between these two gorgeous legs.” Y/N groaned slapping his chest and dropping her forehead against his peck. “That is so unfair. Why do you have to tease me like that!” “Oh, sweetheart.” The rumble was deep and shot a wave of heat straight to her core. “This is no teasing.” The smirk on his face when she looked up at him was shit-eating. “Trust me, if I was teasing, you’d be begging for me.” She’d imagined him between her thighs more times than it was appropriate considering he was her boss, but hot damn, did it feel amazing when his lips crashed onto hers, and she let him. In her dreams, his lips hadn’t been just pressed to her mouth but other places which were more south, but it was still one of the best feelings in the world. The kiss left them both breathless, and grinning and satisfied, yet begging for more, teeth nipping at the soft flesh. “I’ll put out an official statement, if you want,” Harry muttered against her mouth, unable to stop pecking her lips now that’d he’d gotten a taste. “But please, please, please… for both our sanities go out on a date with me.” It seemed like Y/N was the one contemplating the best plan of action now when her brows furrowed and she looked up at him, pressing and unpressing her lips, as the swelling from the kiss grew. “Did you by any chance have a piece of that omelette already?” She had a suspicion it wasn’t just from the kiss. His eyes widened, and then his head dropped to her shoulder. “Not again!” Y/N rolled her eyes lifting his face by the chin so he would look at her. “How about EpiPen first?” “Fair enough,” Harry grumbled unlatching himself from her and going for his keys and wallet, already preparing for the short drive they’d have to take. “But then a date?” She raised her eyebrow, taking out the box Harry now kept under the sink with at least three EpiPen’s for emergencies. “In a hospital?” “We could be going dumpster diving for all I care, and I’d count it as a date.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to do so much better than that; you’ve almost put me in anaphylactic shock twice. Now come on.” She motioned with her head towards the bathroom. “Stab me and take me to the ER.” “Fucking tomatoes,” Harry grumbled, taking her by the hand and not letting it go even for the short walk. “Tomato-tomato, you’re the one that kissed me.” “That I don’t regret.” Y/N smiled, turning towards him, and taking him by the nape of his neck pulled Harry down for one more kiss, groaning at the feeling of his tongue dancing against hers. “Y/N!” He pulled back with a gasp, shock on his face. She just shrugged her shoulders. “We’re already going to see the doctors anyway.” Harry pushed her shoulder and made her sit down onto the toilet. “Take your pants off before my kisses kill you.” “Yes, daddy.” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows as Harry moaned, squeezing her calf. His eyes were dark as he looked up at her. “Next time this happens, you’ll be begging me.” Her wicked smile was so full of happiness he couldn’t help the one that grew on his face. “I’ll be keeping you to it. Now, dear sir.” She handed him the EpiPen. “Hit me with your best shot.” And although it’d been now two times in their lives where Harry trying to do something good and make the other feel just as good had done pretty much the opposite, when they got to the emergency room, their smiles could be felt even under their masks Harry watched with blushing cheeks as Y/N explained the situation to the nurse, especially when one of them threw him an unsavoury glance, eyebrow raised high as if saying ‘again? One time wasn’t enough?’. “No more tomatoes.” He promised. “And also - it wasn’t on purpose!” Y/N squeezed his palm, chuckling. She may not be able to give a shot at eating a tomato, but she sure as hell was going to give Harry one. After all, she had almost died for the man. Twice.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland @raylovessarcasm @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @harryhub

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: I’m at work and I wanted to write a bit for my book, but hahahahahahaha I can’t stop procrastinating. Also, this was something comepletely else centered around Christmas, then New Year and the Valentines, but I just couldn’t and it morphed into this. Maybe this Holiday season when it rolls around I’ll post it :D

P.S. if anyone’s had a septoplasty (repositioning of the septum) - how was it? how painful is it? kinda starting my journey towards it cause apparently I can’t breathe out of my left nostril, but I’m kinda scared ngl. I’ve read some horror stories about having holes and pieces of the cartilage fall out afterwards :///

P.S.S. what did ya think? my tags are always open, just drop a message if you wanna be added :)

P.S.S.S please don’t plagiarise or repost my work on other platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles au #fanfic #fanfics #one direction #one direction imagine #1d fan fiction #1d

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kimnamshiks · 3 years ago

Text

Show Me A Good Time

Pairing: Hyunjin x Female Reader (ft. voyeur Minho)

Genre: Smut, Light humor

Rating: Explicit

WC: 2.2k+

Tags: Smut, accidental voyeurism turned voyeurism, light humor

Summary: Seeing you make his best friend so happy never ceases to make him happy and vice versa. He loves seeing love in all forms; though this may be seeing you and Hyunjin’s love just a bit too much to be appropriate. Maybe Minho will remember to close his doors fully next time.

"Hyu-- Honey.." your soft voice filtered up into the air along with an airy moan, echoing.

"Yeah? Is it good?" Hyunjin's voice answered yours in a low tone. “That good? Baby my sheets are getting so dirty because of you~”

Minho was confused, groggy from sleep. The clock glared an obnoxious light of numbers, changing to 3:01 am. Was he dreaming? Maybe he's in a weird alternative middle ground again or something… It wasn't often he would have suggestive dreams regarding his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend. But it can happen; seeing them be so cute and happy together with the silly banter, inappropriate comments do happen also. The soft, slick sounds of kissing and slurping on the other hand were too high and sharp to be his dream-lagged mind. (Possibly… He does have a habit of daydreaming) He rubbed at his eyes as he was going to get up but a sharp moan stopped him in his tracks.

His eyesight came into a sharp focus towards the bathroom since it was between the rooms connecting them both in a roommate suite. His door was slightly ajar as Hyunjin's was open. Completely open with a reflection of the bedside lamp, Hyunjin’s room was … Giving Minho a full view of the activity going on with you and Hyunjin.

Of you two in bed preparing to fuck. Heavens why did you two have to go at it at this hour? Do you two not know how to sleep?

You were breathless against the gray cotton sheets, body shiny with a thin layer of sweat in a sweet arch that he didn’t think was comfortable but you could care less about. Another moan rippling from your lips as your legs slid further down on the bed. Hyunjin himself just seemed to be in his boxers for the time being but his body also had a layer of sweat to match, hair wet, and sorta curled up at the ends. A shift and you moaned hard for him.

Fading pink and mostly blonde hair shifted as the male lifted his head to tilt it innocently. “You have to be quiet sweetheart. Do I need to keep your mouth occupied?”

A view of your head thrown back from the pleasure Hyunjin was giving between your legs, his grip tight enough on the inner part of your thighs. The way your hips tried to roll against the male’s face or fingers but was stopped when his grip adjusted to press your hips against the bed more. Minho could tell Hyunjin was looking up at your face with that grin he loved to use when he was particularly enjoying the torture. The blonde didn’t have his mouth on you right now in combination, for the fingers quickly going in and out of your wet core were doing wonders he was guessing. He mentally thought how long Hyunjin was down there lapping at the juices coating his hand. Or if Hyunjin has already made you cum once or twice.

“Maybe if you would just… Fuckin’ gimme..” Your voice waivers from another plunge of Hyunjin’s fingers into you, gripping his free hand to immediately shove a couple of fingers into your mouth.

The male’s mouth dropped open at the same time Hyunjin spluttered your name in a whimper. You flicked your tongue around three of his fingers sloppily, slurping and making Hyunjin stop to focus on punishing your mouth. You took it in stride as more spittle fell onto your chest with a muffled groan. He pressed down harshly to make you open your mouth wide, even rubbing the pad of his fingers onto your tongue.

“Mm ready Hyunnie. M’ready now.'' He watched you plead, in that whiny voice you reserve to try and get what you want once your mouth was free.

The male mimicked you as he sat up to look down at you. He demanded you to say it again. With lips shiny from spit your mouth opened again to repeat yourself. And again. And again, the tone turned just that tad more demanding that Minho’s own body heated up in response.

Minho always caved under it no matter what you asked for when you got petulant. (He was weak for you and he believed his best friend knew it too.) This was going in his spank bank, he’ll feel guilty about it later. He slid his hand into his boxers and gripped himself, biting his lip hard to keep his noise of satisfaction at bay, realizing he was already leaking enough pre-cum to make the slide against his dick easier. He should feel guilty but right now he was too hard, his mind on wanting to watch you two until the end.

“Are you darling? Think you’re soaked enough?” a hummed out question, probably rhetorical. Hyunjin didn’t even let you answer before he continued, “Maybe you can have it now if you ride me pretty. Can you do that?”

Minho gyrated his hips into his hand lightly, eyes taking in everything as you pulled your boyfriend in for a deep kiss. Groans and whimpers being swallowed by each other. Fuck… What he wouldn't give to see you on top of his cock, letting him sink deep into the most intimate parts of your beautiful body and carve his shape in. Kiss and mark your skin besides Hyunjin’s finger bruises.

Hyunjin pulled back with a satisfied sigh at your drenched core and brought his hand down to his aching dick to ready himself. Wrapping his fingers to coat around the dripping head, down the slight curve to the base for a quick squeeze with a harsh moan of your name. Both you and Minho watched; you more so turned on and ready but he did more to assess it.

Not to say his best friend has a pretty dick… But Minho thinks it’s a pretty dick to match his pretty best friend indeed. So pretty he wondered if you were going to stretch your lips around it.

Do you deep throat? Do you tease with kisses and avoid his arousal completely? Would you let Hyunjin fuck your mouth as you gag with spittle and cum sliding down your face? Or maybe you two kiss after you take his load?

He was glad his free hand was in front of his face due to holding back a whimper. His hips kicking into the tight fist of his hand, his eyes were drinking in your frame as you sink slowly onto Hyunjin’s lap, thighs drenched in your juices that the squelching sound echoed loudly.

“Nngh-- Finally I’ve been waiting for this all day. It’s so good.”

Your hands glide up your body with the first roll of your hips onto Hyunjin’s with a pace that screams payback. The slow and dirty kind, the grind so hard that you had Hyunjin bruising up your thighs and hips with the tight hold on your body.

He looked up your frame with love and teasing, voice coming out in a broken husk “Come on baby you said you waited for this--”

Minho slowed the movement of his hand over his cock, following along with what seemed to be a hell of a ride. He snuck some extra lube into his hand for the easier glide and to not cum so early.

"I did say that didn't I?", a hiccuping giggle left your throat as your loving boyfriend kicked his hips up. "It's my turn to have a l-little fun too." Your lips left little blooming marks upon the slate of salty skin and lean muscle as you rode him slowly. Sometimes your hips would leave Hyunjin’s so you could look at him twitch, shiver from the cooler air on his heated skin then drop down hard onto his cock yet again.

You alternated this for a while and caressed your body, sighing from a particular roll or whimpering when the blonde sped up the pace for a bit. Minho was drooling onto his pillow and his own skin was hot and sweaty in its rising temperature. His best friend caresses and gropes where he can reach as he praises you. “Feeling good?”

“Mmm yea, roll your hips just.. just like that.”

“Squeezing me like you don’t want me to leave you, that’s fucking hot--”

You squeezed around him when you raised up before dropping down so hard that you watched blonde hair fly back in undeniable pleasure-- what you didn't expect was the loud ass THWACK to resonate in the room. Hyunjin groans (in a non-sexy way, that’s gonna leave a bump--) while holding the back of his head and wiggling underneath you. Curses flew from both of you as it made you laugh loudly.

"Honey! Aaaha--" a wheeze "Honey are you ok--" another wheeze "Okay? Fuck that sounded like it hurt.."

"Pussy so good I lost my head for a second there--" he hissed out. His eyes were closed tightly, grin goofy despite the obvious pain with him slapping at the air in your direction, "You're loud! Don't wake up Minho!" But your cackling echoed into Minho’s room too.

Said male was stifling his laughter into his pillow, heart full watching you two take care of the situation while laughing. Knowing that you'd stop everything to check on your boyfriends’ well being made a little envy burn in his chest, but he pushed that away when his dick throbbed from you guys laughing again.

Really dick? At a time like this? Laughing shouldn’t be sexy you know--

"If your damn headbang didn't wake him up before my laughter then I dunno what to tell you."

A gentle ass smack here, "Cheeky brat!"

"Who's being loud now~? You want Minho to hear you?" You questioned the blonde, not missing the way his cock jerked against your walls.

"Oh?" The may you said that to Hyunjin had Minho’s hand grabbing his dick tight yet again, playing at the base near his sack.

Now he sees that you guys changed positions so Hyunjin's head was at the bottom of the bed, feet touching the headboard. His best friend looked sheepish when you placed a pillow underneath his head. You still cooing at him and massaging his scalp while talking to him; agreeing that it would be a slow sex night after all. Exchanging a few deep kisses, Minho's rapidly paying attention again when Hyunjin goes to lay back down. Your hips sinking down onto Hyunjin’s cock (which was still hard... Minho wonders yet again if his friend likes pain--) moving back to its up and down motion. Occasionally he'd play with his tip and sigh, eyes starting to slip closed…

"Don't think I missed that little tidbit, Hyunjin.."

Hyunjin moaned your name high from his throat when you scratched down his chest, "Miss wh--"

A slow corner smirk appeared, nonchalance lacing every word. "The fact that your dick twitched when I said Minho's name."

Hyunjin's face was red with a wide-eyed stare towards you, not knowing how to proceed with that. Minho in his bed was wide-eyed to match, ears heated in surprise and cock weeping just a bit more at that thought. Fuck did Hyunjin find him attractive sexually too?

"We'll be able to talk about that later. Hm?" You pant and grind harder, "Wanna be loud next time for your best friend then too. Maybe he can join--"

Hyunjin's moan was even higher this time, gripping your waist hard with a blown outlook as you leaned back to ride. Legs spread farther so his cock could reach even deeper into your body. When his hips began to meet yours you felt euphoric, his tip kissing your g-spot with ease now. It was deeper but still a leisurely pace.

Minho forwent that pace and was trying his best to stay quiet as he fucked his fist again, his other hand sliding under his shirt to tug his hard nipples. His mind produced so many scenarios of how he'd have you bent over, folded, split on his cock while he kissed you over and over again.

A tremble skittered up into your chest, mouth running off now. "O-Oh? You'd like that babe? Would you watch him fuck me?"

"Shhhiiit yes…" he groaned deep, his face still sporting that strawberry hue on his sweaty skin. "Wanna see your lips around his cock--"

"I wanna see yours around his cock too, Jinnie. Minnie wouldn't know what to do--"

Both of you were whimpering and moaning loudly, uncaring of the noise level now that you two were so deep into the pleasure that clouded minds. Minho listened, his own soft whines joining into the fray of noise. How you two talked about the positions, the possibility of whose mouth did what to his body, or what fingers went where. Even how every surface of the house would be a new surface to fuck on if he did accept the proposal.

Yes yes, I would accept. He thought, hand blurring over his cock as his orgasm began to coil. Tugging his puffy nipples, a look of bliss casts over his face at the mere thought of the chance. He imagined him getting his cock rode by Hyunjin, you by their side as you marked his neck or kissed him filthy. As the two of you played with him, making his voice reach pitches he never thought of. Hyunjin's shout of your name as he came, made Minho crash through his orgasm with a low and long whine; a combination of both your names like a prayer. He was still riding out his high when you came a bit after with Hyunjin’s name on your lips.

All three of you were spent, Minho staying still and suddenly sleepy again. You slumped over Hyunjin’s side and shared tired kisses while wiping each other down with baby wipes. He should clean up before he had a bigger mess in the morning but he was drifting off to your voice murmuring jokes and Hyunjin’s squeaky laugh.

With his mind fizzed out he succumbed to sleep, he dreamed of hand holding and chaste kisses this time. Shy smiles and embarrasing laughter on outings with his favorite two people in the world.

The clean up is for future Minho anyways, he’s gonna enjoy his nutting experience to the fullest.

Future Minho would like to beat up Past Minho’s ass. Since Future Minho was stuck with the embarrassment of being woken up by you giggling over the mess in his bed; making some excuse of a pretty good ass dream. Curse you Past Minho! Curse you!

#hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #stray kids ff #hyunjin ff #hyunjin oneshot #stray kids oneshot #hyunjin

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wwilloww · 4 years ago

Text

point of no return | PJM

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Smut. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Roommates AU.

WC: 10.2k

Summary: Both Jimin and you are determined to never act on the feelings you hold for one another. Instead, you’d rather shove it down, somewhere deep, dark, and inaccessible. So what do you get when you mix a broken furnace, an old victorian home, a little bit of jealousy in the club, and a need to keep warm together? A mess.

Warnings & Tags: Cursing. Reader is really freakin cold. Jimin sleeps in the nude. Spooning. Grinding. Obscene daydreaming about your best friend. Sex dreams. Mentions of alcohol. Dancing. Jimin is a little jealous. Masterbation. Unexpected visual. Super soft makeout. Fingering. Orgasm denial. Sex. Slight power play. Creampie.

AN: Oof! Finally! A Jimin fic! Thank you to @thatlongspringnight for guiding me through the last 6k of this fic, all written in one day and for being the most brilliant, queen of queens level beta reader. A big thanks to @triviasapphic too, for letting me use their likeness!

This is very loosely based on this ask beautifully submitted by the loveliest @jinpanman for the milestone request party!

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

point of no return

“Fuckin’ shithead mutherfuckin cunt basket,” you hiss.

Nothing would turn it on.

You tried pressing the knob. You tried twisting it until your hand rubbed raw. You tried shaking it. You tried begging in your sweetest, most saccharine tone. You even tried giving it compliments.

“Have I ever told you how sexy you look with three coats of white paint? No?”

Fifteen minutes ago the antique radiator — so old it would probably be better in a museum of old technologies than as a functioning heat mechanism — stuttered to a halt and refused to turn back on.

When you had picked the house out with your best friend, Jimin, you’d loved it for it’s Victorian era charm. But now with the December cold creeping in through the thin window and your refusal to own more than one blanket you were shivering madly, teeth clattering cold. And wildly in doubt of your house hunting skills.

With a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders, you drag your comforter off of the mattress, wrap it tightly over your shivering shoulders, and pad barefoot down the hall. Instead of knocking, you just twist the door handle, letting the door swing open before you with a long, drawn-out squeak. You wince at the sound.

A dark figure sits up from the bed, squinting at you in the darkness.

“Is that—”

“It’s me,” you whisper. If it were anyone else, that response would be useless. But after years of friendship Jimin knows every tune and nook in your voice — the way it sounds when you’re upset, or scared, or — in this case — really fucking cold. “The heater broke.”

“What?” His voice is groggy and sleep-heavy.

“The heater broke. Can I stay here tonight?”

He scrunches his nose and wipes a hand across his face.

“Yeah, sure, uh—” He shifts a bit in bed and that’s when you realize he’s not wearing anything at all. You gulp. It’s the coldest month of the year and the fucker is naked in bed, nothing more than a top sheet thrown over his body, the rest of the duvet crumpled at the foot of the bed. Even though you know he’s one to sleep in the nude (“It invigorates your skin and keeps your body temperature regulated,” he had explained to you once) seeing it, in front of you, just the thinnest piece of fabric between you and your best friend’s junk is a whole other story.

As he moves, the sheet slips down, revealing his toned stomach, only visible by the moonlight flooding through the bay windows of his bedroom.

“Give me a minute to put something on?”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, turning around quickly to give him some semblance of privacy, your blanket whooshing out behind you.

You can hear him pad over to his dresser, just three feet behind you. You swallow hard as you imagine him, totally naked, so close to you. Literally within arms reach. If you could only—

“Turn around, I’m done.”

You peek over your shoulder before turning fully, only to see Jimin, now clothed in some pretty short black boxers, climbing back into bed. Blanket trailing, you shuffle after him, climbing into the warm bed from the other side.

You pull your comforter as tightly around you as you can, but you’re still cold. As you turn to face away from your friend, you can’t help but shiver, your shoulders shaking with the chill that’s settled deep in your bones.

“Can you stop shaking?” Jimin’s sleep-adled voice grunts from behind you.

“I’m too cold,” you whine.

“Come ‘ere—”

And before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging your body backwards until it meets his. He pulls the blanket up and slides in behind you, wrapping himself around your shivering form.

“Better?” he asks while you’re still in shock from the amount of contact he’s just put the two of you in.

“Mhmm,” you squeak out, even as your body continues to shake.

“You’re a liar,” he chuckles.

“I don’t know why you bothered to ask then,” you snap back, wrapping your arms tight around yourself.

You’re not sure if he sees this or if he’s acting on his own accord. You let out a small gasp as he tugs you even closer, his arm slipping under the blanket to press against the skin of your hip. He maneuvers you backwards, your body as limp as a puppet, while you lay there in shock (and a small bit of exhilaration). He presses the back of your body flush against his front and snakes his top arm up the front of your torso until it rests in the center of your chest, gripping your opposite shoulder.

Trapped.

You’re trapped in his arms, nowhere to move, nowhere to go. Only the sound of your combined breaths, his a little more slow and sleepy than your nervous pant. Trapped only with the idea of him so close, and the strange thing fluttering in your chest that only continues to grow bigger and bigger despite all the work you’ve done to push it away. All you can think about is the way he’s pressed up against you, only your thin flannel pajama pants and his even thinner black boxers keeping the most sensitive parts of your bodies apart.

When he shifts, nustling his nose into the crook of your shoulder, you swear you can feel something long and hard press up against your ass.

And suddenly the warmth that is flooding through you has absolutely nothing to do with the shared body heat. Instead it’s coming from someplace deep down — somewhere yearning and desperate — and also from that strange fluttering thing in your chest.

All there is is white. You know somewhere far above you is an endless sea of stars, blinking down on you. But all you know is the grass beneath you and the swimming white sheets that float above and around you.

Someone’s laughing and you turn your face to see him — Jimin — beaming and reaching out towards you.

Somewhere in your mind you know it’s night time and that everything should be dark — and yet, everything around him is lit up and glows with a sourceless light.

Joy rushes through you and as you reach out towards him, he disappears and a new kind of light — warmth — appears behind you.

“I want—” you start to say, but his hand comes up to your mouth, silencing you.

“If you speak, you’ll break the dream,” he says. “Just enjoy it. Let me be here with you.”

Eyes don’t close in dreams, but you know you drift somewhere soft, the feeling of his body so close to yours and the precious rhythm of his breath tracing your neck.

All there is warmth.

Too much of it, actually.

As your eyes blink open to the dark room, the remnants of some dream, lots of white, Jimin’s smile fall away from your consciousness. You kick your leg out into the freezing air and sigh as the coolness washes the heat from your body. Relief.

The warmth that hasn’t been erased, however, is sitting heavy in your lower belly, pooling and swirling and wanting.

You do your best to ignore it, knowing it’s probably some mix of the dream and the thing that you’ve kept hidden on the edge of your consciousness for too long.

You close your eyes again, wishing for sleep to come back and pull you away from these thoughts. Just as you feel the soft edges of another dream lapping at the edges of your mind, Jimin groans behind you and comes to press up against you again, his hand snaking down over your belly.

Eyes shoot open. There. Behind you. Right between the swell of your ass. You can feel his cock pressing into you, at full hardness. You gasp at the sensation, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth so as not to wake him. Slowly, you try to scootch away from his grip, but he holds you there, his arm only tightening when you try to move away.

It’s not that you don’t want it — you do — your body is singing with electricity at the thought of his hard cock against you, between you, inside you. God, if only. However, it’s the consequences, the unspoken question, the unanswered desires (the answer to which you may just not want to know) that push you away from him.

This is your best friend. The person you’ve always been able to rely on and trust. The man you know you can turn to at any moment and know there will never be a question dangling between the two of you.

Except for now.

As he slowly circles his hips against yours, the most delightful, breathy pants falling from his lips — so soft you can barely hear them — the question looms larger than ever.

Are you in love with your best friend?

However, here, his arm wrapped so tightly around your belly, it’s easy to sink into the desire. To equate the arrival of the question with the arousal rising in your body. To tell yourself this is just pleasure, this is natural.

Jimin’s palm is splayed out across your lower belly, pressing hard against you.

He’s rutting shallowly against you, moving for the sake of his own pleasure. A high note of satisfaction slips from his lips, before a name tumbles shortly after it into your ear.

Not any name.

Your name.

You choke on your own words as you understand it. Confusion rushes over you but it’s quickly replaced by adrenaline as his hand clenches and unclenches around your shirt and he shifts and stretches.

Jimin is waking up. Is he going to say something? Is he going to tell you he didn’t mean it at all? Will he run from you?

His body freezes as he realizes the position he’s in. Wrapped so intimately around you, his hard cock pressed against you.

“Shit,” you hear him whisper. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You squeeze your eyes closed and lay as still as possible as you feel him pull away from you. And then the bed dips just enough and you realize he’s leaning over you, checking to see if you’re asleep or not.

You smooth out your features, hoping he doesn’t catch that you’ve been awake this whole time.

The December morning light is streaming in bold and warm through the window.

Your hand goes searching for Jimin, but all you find is an empty, chilled, pillow. There’s a good chance he’s already headed out for the day to see friends or to run errands and so you assume it’s safe as you tiptoe downstairs to get some water and some much needed coffee. Not that you slept much last night.

As you enter the kitchen, the earthy smell of fresh coffee hits you and you take a deep breath, inhaling the nutty aroma. There’s a full pot of coffee already waiting for you on the counter. You smile. Jimin has always been a considerate housemate, but to leave you coffee in the morning? I’m so lucky to have a friend like him, you sigh as you turn to the cabinet to grab a mug.

“Good morning!” an almost nervous, too-cheery voice sings out from behind you.

“AGh!” you cry, nearly dropping the mug you’re holding. Jimin’s quicker than you are though, and reaches out, just as it drops below your belly button. He’s laughing, his delightful giggle filling the light-painted kitchen but all you can think about is how close he’s standing to you, the mug brushing up against your stomach.

“Got it,” he grins.

“You know you can’t jump out at me like that!” you scold, trying to take the mug back from him. But he turns and goes to fill it up for you.

“I literally said your name twice before you noticed. Someone was too lost in dreamland.”

“Pshh, no, I — you need to be a little louder.”

“Can we talk about last night?” Jimin asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. “I, uh, I think there was an accident, I had a dream you were—”

You panic.

“Last night? Oh gosh yeah! I slept like a rock! Thank you for keeping me warm. I would have frozen to death if it weren’t for you.”

You smile as sweetly as you can at him.

He blinks back.

“I mean — uh, yeah, sure, I mean, you’re welcome but that’s not what I mean —”

“Nothing to talk about!” you chirp, already scurrying towards the stairs that lead back up to your bedroom.

“Hey! I’m trying to talk to you!” he cries as you pad upstairs, making a beeline for your bedroom as the coffee you’re holding sloshes around in the mug.

“Oof, well I’m already tired again, gonna take a nap!”

You sprint up the stairs and as you do you hear him call behind you.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

It hits harder than you want it to.

“Come on, princess. You’re taking forever!”

You’re back down on your bed, swaddled in all the blankets in the house you could find, scrolling through your phone.

“I don’t want to go!”

“Well I do!” The door finally swings open and Jimin stands there, all dolled up for the night out. He’s wearing tight leather pants that hug his toned thighs just right and a half opened black shirt that he’s still buttoning as you look on. Beneath his hands, his chest shows, the muscular planes simple and sheer perfection. A single silver earring dangles from his left ear, the other one filled with a variety of studs.

As you peek out of your blanket fort, you gulp as you take in his flawless appearance. He looks like straight sex, the darkness of his outfit highlighting every muscle and curve.

"You look nice," you manage to squeak, and Jimin blushes, his praise kink showing. "Those pants are..." Hot as fuck? More beautiful than the Mona Lisa? Just asking me to rip them off? Floundering for language, you just let your sentence trail off as he looks on, a pink tinge still dancing across his features.

"You wanna wear them?"

"Pfft, no," you lie.

“Are you planning on getting out of bed?”

“No.”

"Well then, if you're not going to get out of bed and dress yourself I'll do the honors." Jimin stomps over to the tiny door leading to your closet and swings it open. He ruffles through your set of clothes, as disparate from a full flannel collection (one that you are quite proud of) to an evening gown that never got worn. Words you can't quite hear or understand tumble from his mouth in a stream of frustrated mumbles as he seems to be looking for something very specific. "Aha!" he finally cries out. "Here it is."

What he pulls out is not what you expected.

It's a simple piece. A light tan slip dress, one with a bit of a scoop to the bust. One that hugs all of your curves just right and sits low enough the weight keeps the dress exactly where you want it to be and high enough that your upper thighs are deliciously on display - something that simultaneously excites you and scares the hell out of you. You bought it on a whim, hoping it would help you embody your inner club girl (or "inner slut" as your friend Jungkook would correct you - which, if you were being entirely honest, was really what you meant when you spoke about going to the club.)

"That one? Really?"

"What, you wanna wear this?" He turns back to the closet before pulling out a second dress, this one long and emerald green and sparkly with a full slit up the side.

"No." You pout.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Ugh!" you cry, burrowing deeper into your blanket fort. "Itsmyslutdress," you mumble.

"What?"

"Itsmyslutdress!" you mumble, but louder this time.

"Did you just call it a slut dress?"

You pop your head out of the warmth cocoon with a sigh.

"Yes."

"What does that even mean?"

"It is the dress I wear when I want to embody my slutty alter-ego. The dress I wear when I wanna get laid."

Jimin blinks a few times before turning back to you with a grin.

"Well--do you not want to get laid tonight?" he asks slowly.

You gape at him.

Even as best friends, even talking about your hookups, you never really talked about sex iteself. Everytime you brought it up, whether it was at the bar and you were ogling some tall, dark, handsome stranger as if some psychic had promised you he was your entire future, he always seemed to shut down. And yet, around your other friends, he was an open book. "Basically a sex expert," Jungkook had told you once. "A sexpert." He'd added, grinning.

But with you, sex was off the table. You were more open and vulnerable with him than you were anyone in your life - and he with you. But sex was just never on the discussion board for you two.

"Do you wanna get laid tonight?"

"Are you offering?" you shoot back teasingly.

"Of course," he says softly.

Your mouth drops.

Of course? Of course?!

"I mean! No! What? Wait? Can you repeat the question?"

"You said yes," you say slowly.

"What! No! I did not!"

Jimin is basically stomping his foot on the ground.

"You did!"

He looks almost angry and you're not sure whether to laugh at the softness with which he had agreed to fuck you - or to feel hurt by his quick change of mind.

"Did not!"

You break into giggles finally releasing yourself from your cocoon of warmth to sprawl out on the bed in a fit of laughter. Your little tirade is quickly shut down though as the silky fabric of the dress is thrown onto your face and you cough around the material.

"Get dressed. I don't want to be late," he says, his voice flat.

“It’s too cold for the slut dress,” you grumble in a last ditch effort, fabric falling into your mouth as you sleep.

“Then wear a fucking turtleneck and snow pants to the club,” Jimin says. “I don’t care, just please get dressed.”

The door slams and when you pull the dress away from your face, the room is empty again. With a sigh, you roll off the bed and begin to get ready for the night.

By the time you pulled up to the dark, sticker-plastered doors of the club, Jimin had resumed his usually joyful and peppy demeanor, all memories of his little slip up erased from the night.

You knew better than to push him about it. You knew that he shut down when you called him out on these things in the past— like the way his eyes lingered on you for too long when you showed off a new bathing suit, the cute little stutter he donned when he was flustered by you, or the way he would basically run at top speed in any direction away from you when you emerged from the shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around your body.

As you are swallowed into the sea of dancing figures and booming bass, you feel his hand come to rest on your waist. Pushing further into the crowd, his touch is reassuring. Steadying. His way of keeping a hold on you without actually holding onto you.

He sees them before you do, and quickly grabs onto your hand, tugging you forward into the mass of swaying figures. Waving and yelling their names, the two of you tumble towards your friends. Jungkook and Raven stand near the bar, their faces lighting up when they finally spot you in the mess of strangers.

Raven embraces you first, his arms pulling you in for a tight hug.

“I wanna dance!” Jungkook says before you can even step away from Raven. Drinks abandoned, Jungkook has grabbed both yours and Jimin’s hands and drags you out to the dance floor.

The bass courses through you as your friends surround you, bopping and swaying to the barely understandable lyrics.

Jimin has always been a good dancer. A great dancer, actually. His moves range from absolutely side-achingly hilarious to -- dare you say it -- undeniably sensual.

He twirls you onto the dance floor, the two of you falling into your usual routine of swinging and laughing and kicking all around.

And as the upbeat and perhaps misplaced summer hit switches to a more sensual song he matches it naturally, letting his hips sway and glide to the rhythm. He pulls you along with him, twirling you more slowly. When you twist into his grasp, he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms, pressing you against him.

As his arms come to wrap around your shoulders, you can’t help but press back into him.

Raven winks at you and you grin back at him, shooing him and his teasing away.

It’s easy to fall into this. Easy to fall into the sway of Jimin’s body and the safety that comes with being pressed so close against him. You fit perfectly into his body, every one of your curve the antithesis to his. Like two puzzle pieces.

You let your hand drop down to his thigh, gripping it for stability as you sway your hips against his. The muscle tenses beneath your touch and you take that as an opportunity to roll your ass against his crotch.

He meets your movements, grinding back up into you, his hand dropping to your waist where he grips you tightly and guides your movements even further back into him.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispers in your ear.

His body pressed against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. The nights the two of you have spent in your kitchen, sliding around in socks and grooving to your favorite music, springing each other around your shared house — all of those hours, all of those years make it so when he moves against you he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what you want him to do. You move in tandem, as if you are sharing a brain, a story, a body.

You tilt your head up to him, nuzzling into his neck.

“Why not?”

“I-I can’t mess up.” He says, but he continues to sway at your back.

“You’re not messing up. I like this.”

As you reach behind you, letting your hand trail up beneath his shirt, you can feel him press into your touch. Chasing it, searching it out. But as your hand trails back down, fingernails scraping delicately against the skin, he seems to snap out of it and steps back from you, even as he keeps his hands on your hips.

You turn, trying to pull him back to you, but you see his brow is furrowed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Just fine!” he says, just a little to cheerfully. “I-I just think I’m done with dancing for tonight.”

Even as he says it he pulls you closer to his chest.

“I’m going to get some drinks, do you want something?”

“You don’t want to dance with me?”

“I— uh— it’s not that.” He shakes his head.

“Please, come on, it’ll be fun,” you groan, tugging on his arm. But he stands firm and stiff. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“I don’t want to dance tonight. Just go on ahead.”

You look your friend up and down. Jimin was never one to turn down an opportunity to dance.

“Okay,” you say, painting a smile on your features even as your heart aches slightly at his rejection. “I just want you to have fun. Do you want me to come with?”

“No--it’s okay. I’ll be back, alright?”

“Alright?”

You watch as he disappears back into the mass of people. You stand still, wondering What the hell just happened?

However, your thoughts are quickly interrupted as Raven reaches out to you, pulling you to him in a graceful spin.

“Distract yourself, darling,” he says with a chuckle. “He’ll come around, don’t you worry.”

Before you have a chance to process his words, Raven spins you out again in the crowd.

You stumble just a little bit, until hands come to rest on the dip of your hips, lingering there just enough to stabilize you. However, they quickly release you as soon as you are standing tall again.

“Oh, ah, thank you,” you half-yell as you turn around, attempting to raise your voice above the noise.

The man who stands behind you is undeniably gorgeous. Tall, with a dark lock of hair hanging into your forehead and the most beautiful smile.

“No worries, it happens all the time,” he grins at you. “What’s your name.”

You yell back at him, but when he can’t hear you, you step closer to him, pressing against his chest to speak your name into his ear. His hand comes down on your waist as you do, lightly.

“My name’s Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though. Care to dance?”

You grin up at him and nod. You’ve never been one to turn down a dance partner.

He takes your hand, quick to find the rhythm of the music.

Hoseok is a natural. As each song progresses, his dances become more intricate. He’s happy to lead you through them and you can’t help but laugh as he spins you around the floor while others are swaying and grinding. You’ve never had this much fun with a stranger, but as he moves against you, you can’t help but think of the way Jimin felt pressed so close to you earlier in the night. It’s just not quite the same.

It’s easy to get lost in him, in his beaming smile and witty jokes that he bends down to whisper in your ear. He compliments you freely, and you do the same in return.

As the night continues you and Hoseok dance closer and closer until he’s pressed deliciously up against your back. You find yourself lost in the sensation of being embraced by someone, even if it isn’t the person you’d want to be there.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but do you wanna come home with me?” The man leans down, the husk of his voice brushing deliciously against your ear.

“I can’t.” You say, turning back towards him. “But thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, leaning down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Can I ask you a question before you go?”

You nod.

“Does your refusal have anything to do with the man at the bar who hasn’t taken his eyes off of us since we started dancing?”

“What?”

He nods over your shoulder, back towards the bar. Through the crowd, you can barely see your friends, but as you reach up on your tippy toes you see them all gathered around, laughing and talking. And then at the edge of them is Jimin. He stands tall and proud and with an unusually grim expression on his face. But when he sees you looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze to his drink, which he is continually swirling in his hand.

“You’re going home with him, aren’t you?”

“Well, duh, he’s my roommate, I—”

“You should go for it,” he interrupts you.

“Go for it?”

“Go for it.”

“There’s nothing there,” you state, matter of factly. “We’re just really good friends!” You’re not sure why you tell him this, but there’s something soft in his eyes that spurs you on.

“Good friends don’t eye fuck each other all night.”

“We weren’t—”

“No need to explain it to me.” He holds up his hands. “But it seems like you have some explaining to do to him. Or at least to yourself.”

You sputter. “Psh! What! No! I’m just tired, Hobi, and if I had the energy I would be fucking you right here, right now, on the dance floor. It has nothing to do with Jimin. Nothing at all!” You realize you’ve got your finger poking into his chest and you quickly draw it back. “Sorry.”

“Okay…”

“Well.” You put your hands on your hips, wiping the frustrated look off of your face. “I should go, I guess. It was nice dancing with you, partner. I’ll be the first to admit you got great hips.”

He’s laughing, and you’re not sure if it’s at you or with you, but when you extend you hand for a friendly fistbump, he meets it with all the enthusiasm in the world, pulls you into a hug, and is off on his merry way, off to find a new dancing partner.

Left alone in the middle of the floor, you kind of just stand there, mulling over what the stranger had said to you. Soon though, you feel a hand on your shoulder and you spin around to see a blank faced Jimin.

“I, uh, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m all good!” you chirp, perhaps too cheerfully. As you begin to make your way back to the bar, his hand comes to rest on your lower back and you shiver at the touch.

“So you’re not going home with him?” He nods back in the direction of the disappearing stranger.

“Why would I?”

“Well, you wore your slut dress, so I figured he was a contender.” He doesn’t meet your eye.

“I didn’t want to fuck him.” You stop, and turn to him.

He laughs, almost nervously. “Well I guess that’s an important factor.”

“Yeah, just a minor detail,” you shoot back, grinning.

“I guess it’s all for the best. Didn’t like the looks of him much anyways.

You giggle. “What? Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be jealous.”

“Can’t be? Or aren’t?”

Jimin blinks back at you, an expression of utter surprise on his face. You know his answer in that moment, and yet — there is a kind of doubt that sits in you. That until he says it, it just won’t be real.

And still, he avoids your question.

“I think I’m gonna head home, do you wanna come with or head back with Tae and Raven?”

“I’ll come back with you, there’s nothing left here for me.”

“Great,” he says, a small smile on his lips. “Let’s go.”

“My heat is still out,” you call.

You’re standing at the door to his room in nothing but your pajama shirt. When you’d gotten home Jimin was quick to wish you goodnight and sweet dreams and book it up to his bedroom. You had gone to your own room and changed into sleep clothes, only to climb into bed and realize just how fucking freezing your blankets still were.

But as you stand outside his bedroom, when you press down on the handle, the door is unusually locked. He never locks the door, you think.

“Jimin!”

You push down on the handle, jiggling it obnoxiously as you hope your best friend can hear you from the other side, and isn’t just ignoring you. As you rattle the metal handle, something seems to come loose within the door and all of a sudden the door is swinging open inwards and there’s Jimin, leaning against the backboard of his bed, legs spread, and--

“Oh no—”

Even as your hands flash up to cover your eyes, you know it’s too late.

You’ve already seen it.

It’s imprinted on your brain. The image of Jimin with his head thrown back, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock hastily pulled out of his jeans. He must have been in such a rush he didn’t even bother to pull his pants down. Instead, the leather pants are simply tugged down just enough from him to slip his cock out of them.

“What the fuck!” he yelps.

“Did I—interrupt?” You can’t help but burst into giggles, even as you keep your hands firmly clamped to your face.

“Yes! Yes, you did!” he says, scrambling for the sheet. He pulls it over himself and then does up his pants again.

“If it makes you feel any better you have a nice looking dick!” you squeak out from behind your hands.

He wipes a hand wearily over his face.

“You really wanna have a conversation about my dick right now?”

“See a dick, converse about a dick, am I right?” you laugh nervously.

“No, no, you’re not. It usually goes like ‘see a dick, forget the fact that you ever looked at a dick.’”

“You got a point there.”

The room falls into silence for a moment before Jimin coughs and speaks.

“You can take your hands away now.”

Ever-so-slowly you release your hands from your face, looking over at Jimin who looks — not upset, not embarrassed, not angry — but intrigued. He’s looking at you with a mix of curiosity — and something else. Something you can’t quite put a finger on.

“Welp, I better be going—”

“I thought you said your heat is still out.”

You turn back around slowly.

“...It is. But I can go. I don’t want to make you feel… uncomfortable.”

“You’ve never made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know if you could.”

“I’ve definitely made you feel uncomfortable before. Like that one time I put peanut butter on your special pickles and tried to fry them—”

“Okay, okay, maybe in like, a superficial way. But not in a deep way.” He pauses. “You’re my best friend for a reason.”

You’re still standing in the doorway, and as he looks you over — gaging your reaction, reading your emotions, trying to understand what’s going on in that far-off mind of yours — he realizes you’ve got your arms wrapped around your torso, protecting yourself from the biting draft that drifts down the hallway.

“Come ‘ere. You’re sleeping here tonight.” He says it without hesitation.

You look at him, and then back down the darkened hallway, and then back at him, the warm glow of his bedside lamp painting his features gold. His cheeks are still slightly flushed, his chest peeks out of his loose button down. And perhaps it’s that image that draws you to him — or, what you tell yourself in that moment, the inviting warmth of the layers of blankets on his bed and the radiator that sits close by.

You climb into bed, quickly tucking yourself into the blankets and rolling onto your side, away from him. However, you can feel his hands reaching out towards you, pulling the blankets closer to you, tucking you in further to their addicting warmth.

“I’m uh, gonna read for a little bit, is that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, course,” you say, your voice slightly muffled by the pillow you’ve stolen and burry your face into.

He rifles through the nightstand. Behind you, he shifts, getting a bit more comfortable and you can hear the comforting sound of pages turning as he begins to read.

Even as you close your eyes, sleep evades you. As much as you try to banish it from your mind, it seems as if the image of his thick cock is burned into your retina, the vein on the underside of it swollen and pronounced. All you can see in your mind’s eye is Jimin, lost in his own pleasure. His face scrunched, eyes squeezed shut. What would it be like to see what he saw, whatever it was that had him gripping his cock so tight the knuckles began to turn white?

“So do you usually masterbate without porn?”

It slips out before you know what you’re saying.

He coughs behind you, and it sounds like he’s choking.

“What?!”

Well, you think. Now that it’s out there I might as well just go for it. You flip over onto your otherside, face half hidden by the blanket.

“When I walked in on you — you were just… lost in thought. No video or audio or,” you nod at the book he’s holding. “Rip off of Half a Hundred Colors of Dark-White.”

He gapes at you.

“Why are you so obsessed with my masterbatory habits, hm?”

“I-I’m not! I’m just curious, like one would be when they accidentally catch their best friend masterbating. We all, you know, do it. I, myself, have a very lovely connection of multi-colored vibrators — all sizes and shapes and, uh, textures? And vibrations and settings and speeds and—”

“So you wanna talk about it then?” He’s still sitting above, looking down on you. He cocks an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “You didn’t want to talk about last night but you want to talk about how I get myself off?”

It’s your turn to gape.

“Uh, what? Last night, psh no!”

He readjusts his position so he’s facing you now, one leg bent and propped up, the other one folded beneath it. You do your best to keep your gaze focused on his face, and not on the prominent bulge that is now in your direct line of vision.

“So you weren’t grinding on my cock last night — or god forbid tonight at the club — But you wanna know about my masterbatory habits?”

You swallow and despite the chill air of the bedroom, you sit up, letting the blankets fall around your waist.

“I suppose that is what I’m asking.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you lick your lips. You know what you’re asking. You know where you’re pushing things. Everything about this next step terrifies you. And yet, it’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past 24 hours. Hell, the past several years.

You’d be lying if you said that last night’s dream was the tamest of the ones Jimin starred in. He haunted you. His image, his being, were everywhere you turned. Even when you were with other partners or one night stands, all you could do was compare them to Jimin. Were they as softly hilarious as him? Did they know your every thought, your every desire, like he did? Could they anticipate your mood before you even could? Did they fill you with that feeling of belonging and safety like he did? No. None of them ever did. You didn’t just crave Jimin’s attention, you craved his touch.

“You know, most friends talk about this kind of shit.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. They talk about sex. They talk about getting off. They talk about their interests and turn-offs and fantasies and--”

“And you wanna talk about this?” His hand lands on yours. You look up at him as he squeezes your fingers within his warm grasp.

“I-I guess I do. Sometimes it bothers me that we don’t talk about it.”

“Then let’s talk about it,” he says, a little bit more confidence slipping into his voice. He picks your hand up, weaving his fingers in between yours. The way he looks at them reminds you of someone looking at a beautiful vista or an undiscovered creature for the first time. There is wonder -- and also confusion -- in him. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I never wanted to… turn our friendship into something that you didn’t want. Something that made you uncomfortable.”

“And I didn’t want to push.”

“Push me? Into what?”

You glance down at your hands. “I don’t know, something that you were disgusted by.”

“I could never be disgusted by you. It’s the opposite, actually.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away? When I want to talk about things? When I want to be close to you?”

Jimin is silent for a moment.

“Because I’m never sure if this is just fun to you,” he says softly. “What if something happens and you realize you don’t want it in the way you thought you did?”

“And what if something happens and it’s exactly what I want?” One hand still resting in his grasp, you reach out with the free one to clutch onto his shirt. Not wanting to push too far, you make do with tangling your fingers in the silky fabric, twisting it around yourself until you are lost in it.

You don’t see it coming. His hand reaching up to yours, pressing your hand to his chest. Slowly, he slides your intertwined hands up until he can press your palm to his chest. Beneath the fabric you can hear the gentle thud of his heart beating, quicker than usual. And there, he just holds it. Mulling. Contemplating.

“It feels like I’ve been distracted…” He licks his lips as he considers his next several words. “...for weeks. Probably longer. I’ve been trying to hold everything in because it’s not supposed to be there. But the temptation to just give in… To just lean into the things that I want… It’s always there. It doesn’t go away. But--sometimes I can distract myself from it.”

“What is it that you want?”

His gaze flickers back up from your lips. The look in his eyes is searing. Burning. There’s desire there — one that’s all consuming — but something else too. He refuses to look away from you, instead roving over your whole face as if he’s trying to memorize it. As if when he speaks next he might forget you entirely. And that’s when you realize. It’s not confusion dancing in his eyes. It’s loss. He thinks he’s going to lose you.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t have it.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.” He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to hold back. “There— there are lines that once you cross you can never go back to.”

“Jimin, I want you.”

The words hang in the stilled silence of the room like lead, suspended and out of place. But you push on, and as you do, his grip tightens around your hands and he’s pulling you forward until you’re flush against his chest.

“And it’s not because of your monster cock -- although that’s like a really really great benefit that I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting--” Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Anyways, I want you for you. I think I’ve wanted you since I met you, but--” You glance down. “I’ve been too scared to admit it. Too scared or too dumb.”

Jimin raises your chin so that you are eye to eye. He’s so close.

“I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you.” He lets his hands drop to your hips, maneuvering you so that you’re fully straddling his waist as he sits up against the headboard. “I wanted you in my life, in whatever way that would be. I wanted you as my best friend and my inspiration and my home -- and to have you like that? I would never want to fuck it up.”

“Then don’t.”

“Simple as that,” he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your hips. He tightens his grip and you instinctively wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer to you.

“Simple as that,” you repeat.

The words hang in the air for a moment, filling the space of the bedroom. And then their sound is gone, leaving the air vacant of sound. The weight of what you’ve both just said crashes down upon you.

Simple as that.

“I want to kiss you,” Jimin whispers. “Can I kiss you?”

“Always,” you barely manage to mumble before your lips are crashing together. They begin clumsily, desperate. Teeth knocking together as you both scramble frantically for connection. For the missed years. For the gazes thrown across the hallway, quick and longing.

And then you find your groove. Just like on the dance floor, there is an unspoken communication to the way that you move together. Chasing and pursuing. Biting and pressing. You gasp as Jimin slips his tongue between your lips, swiping against the roof of your mouth.

It feels like forever and no time at all that you’re wrapped up in his arms, his hands climbing the height of your back as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

As the kiss slips into gentleness, you feel him between your legs. He’s impossibly hard. You don’t know if it’s thought or basic instinct that leads you to press your hips forward, sliding ever so slightly along his length. You know you’ve done the right thing when he groans into your mouth. You do it again, this time swiveling against him. His hands snake down to your hips, fingers digging into the fleshy bits of your sides.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” he groans against your lips.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

He kisses you fiercely and you let your hands wander beneath the silk of his shirt, tracing the planes of his skin until you’ve had enough and need more. You attempt to tug the fabric up, but he seems lost in your lips.

“Off, please,” you say when you can’t get it over his shoulders.

He grins at you and shucks it off in one go, tossing it onto the floor.

You lean back just enough to admire him like this, the planes of his chest glowing dimly in the light of the lamp.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur in awe.

He captures your lips again, his movements soft and dutiful. And then with all the gentleness in the world, he turns the both of you, cradling the nape of your neck as he lowers you down onto the pillows.

“I never thought I could have you like this.”

“Me neither. I-I don’t know if I can go back.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I already know I don’t want to go back.”

You smile up at him, a feeling of warmth and love spreading through your chest. As he sits back, looking down on you, you tug your shirt over your head, tossing it to join his discarded top on the floor.

His eyes rove over your naked form, bare of everything except for the grannie panties you slipped on before knocking on his door. At the beginning of the night you wanted nothing but to make sure everything was thoroughly covered. Now you wish you had gone for something a bit more stylish.

Even as you think this, looking at him you know he doesn’t give a flying fuck what you’re wearing.

He leans down again, kissing you. He lets his weight rest just enough on you as he settles between your legs and you arch up at the dull contact.

As he bites down on your lip, you push up into him, searching for more.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

“Please,” you gasp.

His hand comes down on your thigh, pushing you open just enough. And then, as he comes back to kiss you, he slips his hand down your stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of your panties.

You can’t help as your hips buck up as he slips a finger down your folds. You’re already soaking, arousal quickly coating his finger.

“Shh, shh,” he whispers against your lips, gaze searching yours. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

As the final word slips out of his mouth, he inserts the first finger into your tight entrance and you yelp in pleasure, the feeling of him filling you more sensation than you could imagine. Ever so slowly, he begins to pump it in and out before adding a second finger.

“I want to get you ready for me,” he murmurs. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want it,” you gasp as he presses against your g spot. “Please, I need it, please, Jimin, fuck me.”

“Patience, baby. I will in due time. But first I need you a little more stretched out.”

When he adds a third finger, the pressure building deliciously in your abdomen, there’s nothing you can do to hold back the way your body jerks or the whine that slips through your lips.

“God, I never even imagined you would sound this desperate, this beautiful.”

As he continues to press against the soft spongy spot inside you, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep control but quickly losing it.

“You thought about this?”

“Of course I thought about it.”

“Tell me what you thought about,” you pant, his fingers still working rhythmically in and out of you.

“The list is endless,” he murmurs. “I think about what it would feel like to fuck you. What it would sound like to have you call my name. What it would be like to have you cum again and again around my cock, and then walk out of here, with it dripping down your leg so that anyone who sees will know it too. To have you so fucked out and screaming that everyone in a ten mile radius knows exactly who is fucking you so well, who you belong to.”

“Ah!” you cry as your orgasm begins to build. “Jimin! I’m so close, I--”

And just like that, his fingers are gone from your clenching walls and you are left with a feeling of absolute emptiness drifting through you. He pulls back with a smirk.

“Wha--”

“When you come, I want it to be around my cock.”

Your gaze flickers down to his crotch, where his dick is straining against the tight confines of the leather. “That just can’t be comfortable,” you say, your voice shaking even as you unapologetically eye his obvious arousal. “Please take them off. I’ll make you feel good.”

“You can?”

“I want to,” you explain. “I want to help.” You look up at him again and see that his gaze is dark with desire. “Can I?”

Slowly, he nods, and you reach out towards him, for the buttons to his jeans. As your fingers land on the cold metal of the button, his come down atop yours, popping the button open expertly.

As you slowly slide the zipper down, you swallow.

Everything about this feels right. There’s the sensation of a fire burning in your chest. It’s not just wanting his body. It’s chasing the feeling of electricity sparking through you every time he touches you. Chasing the want of his hands, his gaze, his everything focused on you. Something twinges in your heart. Even as you want these things, you know it’s not fair to ask them of him, to expect them of him.

He stands to slip the rest of his pants off and you realize he’s not even wearing underwear. You gulp as you watch him strip, his beautiful body soon revealed in the dim lighting. His cock stands at full attention, deliciously hard and poking against his belly.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.

“I want it more than anything.”

The bed dips underneath his weight as he climbs towards where you lay. He lowers himself above you, expertly balancing his weight so that it doesn’t crush you. With one hand, he reaches down to palm his hard cock, the tip red and angry with need. With his knee, he pushes your legs wide open, making room for himself and spreading you out before him. At a devastatingly slow speed, he lines himself up with your aching center.

“So wet for me, princess. You’ve always been beautiful to me, but spread out like this, just waiting for my cock? You’re a dream.”

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please what?”

As he comes to nestle his cock in between your dripping folds, you whimper with need.

All you can feel is his cock, his touch against your skin, the way his presence surrounds you and envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper. “I need you, Jimin.”

He chuckles.

“You’re so desperate, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“My baby wants me to fuck her?” He slides slowly in and your back arches devilishly at the sensation of his fat cock stretching you open for him. He watches your facial expression carefully, not wanting to hurt you or push you too far too fast.

When he sees you relax just a little, he pushes in even further until he’s nestled inside you to the hilt. Once he knows you’re comfortable, he lets himself slip into the pleasure of you wrapped all around him. His eyes flutter closed, and he nestles his nose into the crook of your neck.

Gathering himself, he takes a deep breath, pushing up off of you so that he can better look down at you, your hair splayed on the pillow, cheeks warm with arousal, eyes wide in pleasure.

“God, you’re perfect for my cock. Like you were made to fit me.”

“Mmf, so big,” you groan as he shifts inside you. “Never felt this full before.”

As he begins to move, you gasp, hands coming up to cling at his back. The drag of his cock against the walls of your cunt is divine and you can’t help as your nails dig into his skin, raking down the planes of his back.

His eyes never leave your face, tracing your pleasure every time it flashes across your features.

“When I imagined this,” he pants, “I never even thought it could feel this good.”

He withdraws at a maddeningly slow pace, until just the tip of his cock rests inside your warmth.

“Please Jimin,” you gasp. “I need more.”

He smirks down at you. “More?” He gives a shallow thrust.

“More,” you groan, trying to push your hips down on him, anything to take him further into you. However, his hand quickly comes down on your hips, stopping all movement.

Leaning down to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, you gasp into his mouth as he thrusts into you with a great force. You cry his name as he bites down on your lower lip, the pace he sets brutal and exactly what you need. Each thrust rolls through your entire body, setting your nerves alight. When he gives a particularly hard thrust, your spine arches, hands slipping away from his back and coming to wrap around his wrists.

When he growls, you clench at the sound.

Your eyes flicker open in time to see his mouth gape and he groans when you do it again.

He answers your tightness with another roll of his hips, this time changing the angle just enough that it hits your g spot directly. You spasm around his cock, crying out as he continues to fuck you.

“You’ve ruined me,” Jimin gasps. “Nothing else, no one else is going to be like this. I wanna fuck this cunt until you can’t think of anything else.”

You start to respond, to tell him how much you want that, but his hand comes down on your clit, rubbing just gently enough that you’re yelping in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation.

“I’m really gonna fuck you now, baby. I want you to touch yourself until you can’t anymore, okay?”

You nod, reaching down to your clit where your fingers brush against one another. You look down to see his cock rutting in and out of you, coated in your juices. As he withdraws his hand, he begins to pick up his speed.

The pace he sets reaches deep into your body, setting every nerve alight. You cling to him, begging him to fuck you harder. His cock seems to reach every single sensitive spot within you as rock your hips back up to his, meeting his every movement. He lets you now, lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, seeking the same pleasure together.

When his pace begins to stutter, thrusts becoming long and rough, you know he’s close to his end.

“Baby, I’m going to come,” he groans. He begins to sit back up and withdraw, but you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him towards you, the other one coming to press on the dip of his hips.

“Come inside, Jimin.”

“But--”

“I’m safe. I want to feel you come inside me. Wanna come with you.”

He groans at your words and lowers himself to you, letting his hips grind against yours in a tide of sensation. Each movement pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm until three words are tumbling from his lips and you are tipping over the edge.

He kisses you as you both ride out your orgasm, waves of pleasure washing through your body and into his as if you are connected on more than just a physical level. His lips are soft against yours, guiding you through your orgasm. Everything is breathless and wildly full, all at once.

Pulling back as his cock twitches within you, he peppers your neck with kisses, his plush lips pressing softly against the delicate skin beneath your ear.

“I love you, baby,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I love you too,” you hum, eyes fluttering blissfully closed as you tangle a hand in his hair, pressing him closer to you.

That’s how you fall asleep. Tangled up in each other, bodies meshed together until there’s no way to tell which way is up.

You wake up wrapped in warmth. The kind of warmth that radiates from your heart, shining on outwards and into the room around you. And, as your eyes blink open, you notice it also radiates from the absolute furnace that clings to your back.

“Mmm,” the furnace grumbles, rubbing his nose against the soft nape of your neck. You can feel him press his lips against the top of your spine, his breath fanning delicately against your skin. “G’morning.”

“Morning.” You speak softly, as if any noise will break the memory of last night, his whispered affections against your skin as you drifted off to sleep still hanging in the air. Too loud and you will shatter and destroy the memory. The words of his confession still carved into your skin, your mixed pleasures riddled through your body, the song of his joy and laughter emblazoned into the room -- all of that, you think, will disappear if you move too quickly or speak too loudly.

However, that notion is quickly banished when Jimin rolls over and groans dramatically, spreading his limbs out until he starfishes over the entire bed -- including you. With a little grunt, he flips over on his belly, shimmying over to you. Pulling the blankets down around you, you gasp as the cool air hits your skin.

He’s quick to rectify this as he rolls onto you, resting his head on your stomach, blowing a raspberry into your skin. You screech in laughter and as the sensation rushes through you, tickling you.

It takes a minute or two before you calm down, looking lovingly down at the man who holds your heart and running a hand through his hair, brushing it off of his forehead.

“I love you, you know that?” he mumbles into your belly.

“Do you?” you giggle, doubt still riddled in your mind.

His eyes shoot up to yours.

“Of course I do. Is there any question about it?” You look down on him, worry in your gaze. “Oh, baby.” He’s quick to prop himself up on his hands, but still stays sprawled out atop you, his weight heavy and comforting. “I’ve loved you since I first saw you--” You open your mouth to tell him there’s no such thing as love at first sight, but his hand comes up quickly and covers your mouth, effectively shushing you. “--at least I knew I was going to love you the first time I saw you. I knew I was going to fall madly and deeply in love with all of your quirks and strange obsessions and deep passions and maddenly horrible humor. And I knew I loved you a year in, and every day after that.”

You look down on him, tears welling up in your eyes at his sincerity.

“Come ‘ere,” you say, pulling him up towards you. He crawls up your chest, playfully nipping at your bare breasts before settling against you. He kisses you. Lets you sink into the sensation. And then he pulls back and says,

“Aren’t you going to tell me you love me too?”

You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough of that dorky smile.

But you do know the tears threatening to spill over are rising from the deep, unnamable affection that rolls through your chest, finally released from silence. You want to call it love, and that is what you will call it, but there’s also something that goes so much deeper than the word itself. Something you know you will spend your whole life trying to explain to him.

read more: masterlist

Taglist: @taestannie @thatlongspringnight @spicykoreantatertots @usuallynervoussheep @hesperantha @myimaginationsrunningwild@lucedelsole97 @heichooou @jiminskth

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

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16 with Mafia!H cause I can't have enough of him

16. “Come over here you punk.” “Show me how you make out, then.”

A/N: Mafia!h is a skanky ass bitch and I love that for him. Uwu.

Y/N and Harry has grown beautifully into their relationship. Where there’s more accepting eachother’s flaws, gifting each other musing glimpses from their past and she wishes sometimes she could revive the timelines and have become friends with him the first day he entered in her shop —-- he seemed too intimidating to befriend, that Y/N used to be on loss of words upon his arrival.

In a way that Y/N no-more gets scared of his two tall Dobermann Pinschers despite the exchange of usual glares when they look like they’re about leap on her tiny self and let me tell you the tension between dogs and one human is very bizarre.

She finds them cute sometimes. When they follow Harry the moment he steps through the threshold then howls when he snaps his fingers commanding them to sit since they had their share of cuddle from him and walks towards her as she waits for him at stairs and flies into his arms after spending a long day without him.

The maids have also accepted the fact that Y/N’s here for long time and she ain’t any his side hookup or a chick for distraction, she has that motherfucker wrapped around her pinky.

They wave at her with small awkward smiles as Y/N asks them to introduce themselves. Y/N’s been filming around the mansion randomly with her vintage Yoshika video cam, started from their farm, her ducklings and their horses in the barn and bashed through the kitchen tapping at the Chef's shoulder sheepishly and recorded them as they talked -- giggling when some of them tells funny stories from their villages.

She sprints to their bedroom. Her baby pink and mauve coloured cardigan flopping around, the video becoming a wild turmoil of pixels and the ruckus of her squeals before it’s focus settles on her boyfriend sitting clad in his black boxers that's doing a very dreary job of covering his bulge, his tanned sinewy chest on display and his one hunky thigh folded under while other stays bent high – foot on foot. His body leaned into the headboard of the bed.

“Anddddd here’s me big softie of a boyfriend, he likes cake-pops and Jane Austen —--,” When her high-pitched sweet voice echoes through their room with excitement Harry quickly bundles up the guns that were laid on the mattress infront of him and the one he was cleaning into the drawer of nightstand, knowing she hates guns anywhere near her and that he promised her she'll never get to see one.

He arches his brow brazenly at her statement. She just ignores his impudence and crawls up on her knees on the bed trying to keep the camera straight, “He acts very bad and gnarly but in actual he's such a sweet pea .. cries when I deprive him of my kisses.” She grins with a hint of naughtiness and almost shoves the camera into his face but Harry’s blocking it with his infamous roll of eyes and pushing it away.

“Dickhead.” She grumbles and Harry’s brows shoots up in amusement. A grin so big that all of his pearly teeth winks at her flutters on his features, “Know tha’ the last person who talked t'me like tha', ended up in the bottom of river.” His dimples quirks deeper into smugness and she frees her wrist away from his grip and again brings the camera to his face.

“Never mind. Moving onto next thing Mr. Styles what d'you do fo'living?” She wiggles her brows expectantly and he shrugs lips down turning into nonchalance, “Kill I guess?”

“Harry!” She whines nudging his knee with her's that she’s very serious right now and he levitates his shoulders throwing his palms in air, “What!?” A shit eating grin on his face telling that he doesn’t gives two fucks.

“Next question!” She snaps with a cute huff and pinches his thigh – glowering at him to do real type of vlog with her.

“Who's more of good kisser between us?” Her eyes turns into candy heart shapes at that and Harry guffaws out an ironic laugh wiggling his index at her as if she’s silly or summat, “Duh. Sweets obviously me.” After lighting up the wrong firecracker the mob smirks cockily when she throws her cam carelessly on the mountain of sheets and tries to get away from him – flops at sofa with her arms folded that protrudes her plum bosom even more making Harry’s cock give a pulse of adrenaline to him.

“You think you’re a better kisser than me? Better cuddler?” She growls (she’ll make harry sleep on floor for the rest of the month if Harry’d make a snarky comment that she looks like a small Chihuahua when growling so he keeps it to himself) and chuckles gingerly when a pout itself makes a home at her lips, “Come over here you punk, prove it then.” Harry just loves how challenging and fearless she becomes to prove him wrong, “Show me how you make out, then.” She brings her brows down in annoyance when he doesn’t budge.

“’Kay baby ...” He giggles, then bounces up on the mattress and spreads his long arms wide as if they’re not arms but bat wings and he’s ready to cling to his prey.

Taking onto the strident tone of a pilot instructing his passengers he digs his feet deeper to warn her about the jump, grins when she giggles at his comic antics, “Here comes y’man in 1 ... 2 ... and 3 —--,” She squeals out a loud laugh when he lands on her with an ominous thump of his bare skin meeting the leather of couch. His arms and legs sneaking around her body as he traps her beneath his heavy self and tickles her till she’s pushing him away with a gasp of breather and cusps of giggles as he blows raspberries at her cheeks.

“I hate you!” She says in the amidst of giggles and he stops his poking and his silly tickling from his curls everywhere against her nose and takes his head out from the valley of her breasts, “Say that another time and I’ll knock y’out."

Woofs out a teasing laugh when she gulps visibly and her cheeks heats up with blush as he puckers his lips against her's in a caring kiss, “With my cock, baby.” His joke not setting right with Y/N earns him a slap at his bicep feeling like a pinch to him honestly and a smile is breaking at her face as she rolls her eyes.

“Downright asshole.” Her curse gets mumbled as he tries to snog her off, her face lulled into his palms and their foreheads pressed as he kisses her with little breaks of just glistening smiles and never being able to stop laughing at her eccentric reaction.

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quillquiver · 4 years ago

Text

another chapter of this deancas wedding/honeymoon!fic. thank you @we-all-deserve-to-be-saved for the prompt!

Castiel is not a morning person.

He likes lying in bed until he’s sore with it, stretching out on the memory foam like a king languishing among his pillows. He likes rolling over onto on a cool patch of sheet, and cuddling into the covers, and hooking his toes over the end of the mattress. Castiel likes holding Dean. Being held by him; tucked up against his chest or with a palm half-sunk into his boxer-briefs. Pressing kisses to neck and shoulders and the line of his hair.

Castiel likes the liminal space he occupies in the moments between sleep and wakefulness, where everything glows. It’s warm and wonderful and he draws it out for as long as possible, the minutes dragging along by way of tender touches. It reminds him of the peaceful parts of angelhood.

So, Castiel is not a morning person.

…But he can become one, for Dean.

Dean likes romantic gestures; not all of them—he isn’t the type of man who likes receiving flowers or chocolates or candlelit dinners. But picking up his favourite beer when Cas notices they’re running low, or staying up late to watch a movie despite being exhausted—kissing him, washing his hair, holding his hand, sitting with him while he works on the Impala… wearing women’s lingerie: these are all things Dean appreciates. Small things. Quiet things.

Cas knows that this is a gamble.

The alarm on his phone barely has the opportunity to buzz before he’s turning it off, carefully sliding out from between the covers. It’s dim, and Cas allows himself a moment to run his hand through the mess of his hair and dig his toes into the soft carpet. A breeze is coming off the water.

God, he hates early mornings.

“Where you goin’?”

Dean’s voice is slurred and muffled. He blindly reaches out and Cas meets him halfway, tempted into cuddling for just a moment longer. “Go back to sleep, Dean,” he murmurs, gently brushing over the pillow lines on his cheek.

“Mmm, w’sss hap’nin?”

“Bathroom,” Cas supplies, depositing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Dean’s reciprocation lags with exhaustion.

Dean frowns. Struggles to open his eyes. “Y’okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cas says. “Go back to sleep.”

“’Kay,” Dean mumbles. “C’m back.”

Cas melts like fallen ice cream on hot concrete.

He carefully extracts himself from their bed, padding into the other room and closing the bedroom door. The sun is beginning to paint the first impressions of light on the horizon; the water is calm—it’s going to be a beautiful day.

Castiel calls for room service.

He orders pancakes and waffles and eggs and sausages, lox bagels, a bowl of fresh fruit, mimosas. An espresso and a latte because Dean would never ask for it himself. “And would you mind putting a rush on this?” he murmurs into the receiver. “I know it’s early, but we’re newlyweds and I’m trying to surprise my husband.”

Cas has learned that the newlywed excuse goes a long way anywhere, but works especially well when paying outrageous amounts of money in a fancy hotel. He expects they’ll also leave the champagne bottle.

Despite the fact that Cas is pretty sure it’s considered impolite to do so, he moves the small table and chairs from the balcony and makes a nest on the marble floor out of spare blankets and colourful pillows from the couch. He tries to mitigate the potential mess by laying down some of their many extra towels. Room service knocks, Cas pulls on a robe, and then the smell of coffee and food starts rousing Dean from bed. Cas pushes the food cart—complete with opened champagne bottle—to the door of the balcony before entering the bedroom.

Dean has kicked off all the covers and is sleeping on his stomach.

There is no moment of thinking about what he wants to do—what he’s allowed; Cas moves without conscious thought, peppering kisses from Dean’s ass all the way to the nape of his neck and then lavishing his attention on his particularly freckled shoulders. “Mmm… smells good.”

“Breakfast,” Cas says.

“S’early.”

“I want to take you on a date.”

Dean’s eyes flutter open. “Now?” he asks, caught between sleep and incredulity.

Cas leans over and presses a kiss to his mouth. “Mm.”

“Sweetheart…” He whines. Cas feels himself start to smile. Dean doesn’t use pet names often, and more recently he’s taken to doing so while complaining; as if the verbal confirmation of his affection will bend Cas to his will. It was laughable until it became endearing—because Cas is sweet on him, and there is no one else Dean feels comfortable whining to.

“Your life is one hardship after another,” he agrees solemnly. Cas slides back down Dean’s body and nips his left asscheck. “Come on. Up.”

“What, we’re not even gonna—”

“After breakfast, Dean. Just come. Please.”

Dean rolls his eyes and grumbles about a different kind of coming. “Man, s’not even light out yet.” As Cas moves to get Dean his robe, he’s caught around the waist and pulled between bowed legs. “C’mon,” Dean needles, nuzzling at him until the robe parts. “A little nookie, a couple more hours of sleep… we can go on a date later.”

“Or we can go on a date now.”

Dean pulls away and looks up at Cas, narrowing his eyes. Cas smiles down at him beatifically, running a hand through his hair and tracing the shell of his in the way he knows turns him to putty.

“…You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes.”

Dean continues to grumble to himself as he slides out of bed and towards his duffle, frowning when Cas catches his hand. “No need to get dressed.”

“But you said—”

Cas holds out his robe. “Follow me.”

Dean slips the thing on as they pad into the main room, his eyes immediately drawn to the food and coffee. He gives a low whistle. “Damn, Cas. We expecting company?”

And suddenly, the entire thing seems incredibly stupid. Cas dragged them both from the warmth and comfort of their marriage bed on their honeymoon to look at the sun rising, a thing that happens and has happened every single day since the Earth started turning. He did this knowing that neither of them get to sleep like this, or be alone like this, or touch like this—this much and this openly. He doesn’t even know if Dean likes sunrises; if this is one of those things that’s romantic in the wrong way.

“I know you like breakfast,” he says, instead of dragging Dean back to bed.

Dean eyes the set-up outside, turn around and… blushes. Is blushing, down his chest and all the way to the tips of his ears. “So this is, uh—you got up and did all this?”

Cas feels colour rise to his own cheeks. “I didn’t cook,” he says. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Dean echoes. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, uh, take me on a date, stud.” He looks nervous, Cas thinks, which is ridiculous and relatable all at once. Outside, the rising sun paints swathes of pink and orange across the horizon.

“…Right,” Cas says. “Yes. I will… do that.” He gestures to the balcony. “Please sit.”

They get settled with coffee, for the first time maintaining a respectful distance between them. It’s oddly hurtful, and the longer they remain apart the more awkward Cas feels. He’s practically shaking out of his own skin when he suggests they go back inside. “You’re tired,” he says. “We should just go back to sleep.”

“Wait, why?” Dean frowns. He has foam on his upper lip. Cas wants to kiss it away.

“You’re not having fun,” he continues. “And this was silly, anyway. We should just—”

“Who says I’m not having fun?”

“Dean—”

“C’mon, man, you gotta—” Dean cuts himself off. Shakes his head. “I’m not cut out for this stuff: dates, romance… you gotta know that by now. And I haven’t been with anyone long enough to, y’know, even get to the part where we’re mushy and shit. But… it’s not because I don’t want to. I mean, flowers and chocolate? Not my thing, but you know me, Cas. A-And we’re in love, right?”

Cas swallows thickly. He nods. “I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s huff of laughter is steeped in nerves. “Well, good,” he says. “’Cause I’m kinda crazy about you, too. So—so, why shouldn’t we have a sunrise picnic on the balcony at the fuckin’ Ritz?”

“We should, if you’re enjoying myself.”

“Hell yeah, I’m enjoying myself. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Drink your damn coffee.”

Cas stares at him for a moment before scooting closer. He wraps an arm around Dean and tugs, relaxing when over six feet of freckled hunter is suddenly plastered to his side. “Okay,” Cas breathes. “Good. This is good. I love you.”

“I love you, too, you loser.”

They come together more softly than usual, tentative in a way they haven’t been in a long time as they kiss. Eventually, Dean gets pulled onto Cas’s lap and shrugs out of the top of half of his robe. “Gonna need to work up an appetite to finish all that food,” he murmurs. He ducks down to suck and bite at the spot on Cas’s neck that makes him weak in the knees.

Cas snorts. “Very subtle.”

“So, uh…” Dean bounces his eyebrows like a lecherous old man.

Cas’s stomach growls. “Can we postpone the exhibitionism until after we eat?”

“There’s no one around!”

He’s smiley when Cas kisses him.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Dean opens his mouth and Cas rolls his eyes. “Besides me.”

“That’s mighty presumptuous of you, Castiel.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I know you.”

“Yeah.”

It comes out much breathier than probably intended, and Cas can’t be expected not to kiss him. When they drift apart and Dean says, “Little bit of everything?” Cas gets up to make him a plate.

“Man,” Dean sighs, stretching out on the pillows. “This honeymoon thing is awesome.”

Cas hands him a plate piled high with bacon and eggs and pancakes and grins.

It really, truly is.

#we-all-deserve-to-be-saved #destiel wedding #destiel honeymoon #destiel fic #deancas fic #honeymoon!fic #adventures in fanfic

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years ago

Text

Hanahaki disease - read on ao3

Tagging: @lokitonypeter @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu

*-*

Peter's known for a long time that he was in love with Tony. Since he was seven, and Ironman saved his life. Since he came home to Tony Stark on his couch, talking with his aunt.

Since the trip to Germany, and everything else leading up to now. The more time he spent with the older man, the more in love with him he became.

Peter never really thought he'd be the one to get sick. He thought he'd been immune. He's had crushes before, been in unrequited love before, and he never got sick.

But with Tony, it came on so suddenly. One day he was fine, and then the next, blue petals were in his sink after a coughing fit.

He'd been so shocked he'd stumbled back and almost hit his head on the bathroom door.

That was six months ago, and its not gotten better. He's been lucky enough to hide it from everyone.

With May's long hours at the hospital and his school's wacky scheduling, and the Avengers keeping Peter on the outskirts, its easy to hide the blue flowers.

He's read stories about people with the disease getting better on their own, or even learning to live with it for the rest of their lives.

He's also read about it killing people.

But he can't tell Tony how he feels. He just can't. Tony thinks of Peter as a kid. Plus, while the age difference doesn't bother Peter at all, it might bother Tony.

The man was old enough to be his dad anyway. So Peter decided to hide the flower petals. For as long as he could.

"Hey, Pete, you getting the popcorn or what?" Clint calls from the living room. Peter coughs again, hunched over the trashcan beside the kitchen island.

"Yeah!" He shouts, coughing again. He reaches into his mouth, picking the petals off his tongue before straightening. He glances down at the trash, covered in wet, wilty petals and feels his stomach roll.

He quickly grabs a bunch of paper towel, throwing them into the trash to cover them, then pushing it all down as far as it'd go.

After a second, he grabs the two bowls of popcorn and makes his way back into the living room.

"Sorry, I had to melt the butter," he excused, handing one bowl off to Clint -who would be sharing with Nat, Bruce and Steve.

Peter handed the other bowl off to Sam, who was in reach of Tony, Thor, Bucky and Peter.

"What are we watching again?" Peter asked, clearing his throat. It was always worse when Peter was around Tony.

"Halloween," Sam said, smirking over at Peter.

"Its August," Peter exclaims.

"Yeah, and we were going to watch A Walk To Remember but Tony doesn't do chick flicks, and the grandparents haven't seen it yet."

"Hey, Tony hasnt seen it either," Steve yelped, waving a hand at Tony, sitting at the corner of the couch, beside Sam.

Peter tried not to think about how close they'd be if Sam and him just switched places.

"That's because Halloween is a terrible series."

"It not!" Peter can't help interjecting. "Its right up there with Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th."

"How do you even know what those movies are?" Clint asks, laughing on the other couch.

"I watch old movies," Peter shrugged, feeling the familiar sense of self-consciousness creep into his chest, tickling at his lungs.

"Old!" Tony barked. "Kid, the 80s aren't old."

Peter forces himself to laugh and shrug and make a joke about hanging out with people twice his age, and the conversation moves on.

But it just reminds Peter that Tony would never see him as an equal because of his age. There was no way he'd ever accept that Peter loved him. Or would love him back.

The movie plays, and Peter chews handfuls of popcorn to keep from coughing up a lung.

Bucky and Steve are on the edge of their seats, fully invested in the corny horror film when Tony starts coughing.

Everyone glances over in concern, but the man just waves his hand, mouth pressed into his elbow.

"Pop-corn-" he chokes out between coughs.

"You're supposed to chew it," Nat laughs. Peter tries not to outwardly show how worried he is when Tony's face grows red, the coughing so bad he has to get up and make his way to his bedroom down the hallway.

Everyone returns to watching the movie, but Peter can't help but wonder if Tony's okay, especially when he doesn't come back right away.

"Uh, I gotta take a leak," Peter lies, climbing to his feet.

"Thanks for sharing, little man," Sam huffed. Peter doesn't say anything else,just makes his way down the hallway.

Tony's bedroom is all the way at the end. The only people who live in the penthouse with him are Steve and Bucky, and Wanda and Vision -though they're out on a date for the night.

He passes the bathroom door, and his frown deepens when he hears Tony hacking in his bedroom.

He keeps light on his toes, reaching the bedroom door that's not all the way closed, and pushes it open just a little.

"Ton-" the sight before him cuts him off, and he ducks back a little, worried maybe the older man might've seen him.

He feels his chest tighten at the sight. Tony, leaned over with a bedside trash can between his knees, coughing up little pink flowers.

Peter's eyes widen when the man spits a glob of blood into the basket before continuing to cough.

Tears burn at Peter's eyes and he quickly backs up, rushing down the hallway and past the living room.

"Hey, where you going? Where's the fire?"

"I-I gotta go home aunt May- uh, I gotta go she wants me home," Peter shouts, snatching up his keys and phone on the way out.

He's in the elevator, and he can't stop the sobs from tightening his throat.

Tony's sick. Tony's in love with someone who doesn't love him back. Tony's in love with someone and its not Peter.

Be chokes on tears and petals all the way to the main floor, shoves the petals into his pocket and runs from the building.

He knew his love was unrequited. He knew there was no chance, but to see Tony so in love with someone else -it was like digging a knife into his heart and twisting.

He makes it to his bedroom and buries his face into his pillow, muffling his crying so May won't hear when she gets home. Hopefully she'll think hes still at the tower and won't check on him until the morning.

He cries himself to sleep, eyes gritty and heavy.

*-*

"Hey, kid, how's patrolling going?"

Peter jolts at the sudden sound of Tony's voice in his ear, momentarily forgetting he has a connection to the tower now. New upgrades.

"Uh, good," Peter huffed, swinging from building to building. "Stopped a mugging, and helped a couple people with the parking meters."

Tony chuckles over the coms. "You gotta stop showing people the coin on tape trick."

Peter can't help but smile through his mask. He clears his throat when he feels the familiar tickle at the back of his throat.

"Fuck capitalism, Mr. Stark," he says.

"You do know capitolism is kind of my job?"

"Its not," Peter countered. "I mean, it relied heavily on it in the beginning -what with the weapons and war profiteering- but you've come a long way! Sustainable energy and you're even recycling!"

Tony chuckles again, and Peter has a moment to regret his words -Tomy probably thinks he's just a dumb kid- before a coughing fit hits him out of nowhere.

It's so bad, Peter loses his momentum and drops onto a rough of a small cafe. Hes on his hands and knees, crawling from the edge of the roof as he coughs and hacks.

"Pete, you okay? What's wrong?" Comes Tony's worried voice.

Peter feels the petals coating his mouth with nowhere to go and frantically tugs on his mask. He's choking, suffocating.

He rips the mask off and heaves a mess of petals and blood onto the gravel roof.

Its never been this bad. Panic grips his chest when he coughs and wretches more than he can get a breath in. He's suffocating.

Tears burn his eyes as he struck less desperately to take a breath. Just one breath.

His head begins to spin, chest heaving and he drops from his knees to his hips, legs curled off to the side as he holds himself up with shaky arms.

There's so much blood and petals, Peter doesn't know where its all coming from.

He's too busy dying to notice the suit of armor that drops onto the roof, or that Tony's suddenly rushing towards him.

"Jesus, kid!" He breathed.

Peter lets out a sob, blood and petals continuing to fall from his mouth. His stomach hurts from the heaving, his chest from lack of oxygen.

Tony grabs him by the arms, pulling him forward until he's away from the pile of bile, blood and blue wilting flowers, nearly cradling him in his arms.

"Its alright, you're okay, you're gonna be okay," Tony repeated, rocking Peter while he continued to cough and sob.

He shakes his head, even as exhaustion and lack of air flow has his eyelids drooping, body settling further into Tony's hold.

When he wakes up again, he's in a hospital bed. Theres an iv in the back of his hand, and a tube running down his throat from his nose.

He swallows around it and has to fight back panic at the strange feeling.

There's a heart monitor on his index finger, and a few on his chest -which is bare.

Peter moves shaky hands to the blanket and pulls it up just enough to see. Someone had taken his suit off, leaving him in his red boxers.

He blushes at that. Who had taken his suit off? Damn, he hoped it wasn't Clint or Sam.

He drops the blanket just as the door opens. He looks up to see Tony step inside and he wants the bed to swallow him whole.

"Hey, kid," he greeted, shutting the door behind him and making his way towards Peter's bed. "You had us all pretty worried."

Peter drops his eyes to the itchy white hospital sheet, picking at a loose thread and not saying anything. What was there to say?

Tony sighs as he settles down into the chair beside the bed.

"Your aunt May is in the middle of a shift, but she'll be stopping by when she's got a break to check up on you."

"Okay," Peter barely manages to murmur.

"The doctors had to pump your lungs," Tony continued. "But its not a cure, Pete. They'll come back."

Tears burn at his eyes and he quickly brushes them away, sniffling as he does so.

"I know," he said. "Its alright, I'm okay."

"Peter," Tony sighs, grabbing Peter's hand. He looks up then, seeing the concern in the older man's eyes. "You're not okay, you're really sick."

"People live with it all the time," Peter brushed off.

"Who is it?"

"What?" Peter asked, heart monitor matching his fast pulse.

"Who is it? How long have you been like this?"

and it must be because Peter is tired -exhausted and drained and so sick of being sick- because fresh tears bloom and he pulls his hand from Tony's.

"Long time," is all he can say as he presses his palms into his eyes, rubbing at the tears.

"Who," Tony presses.

Fuck it, Peter thinks. He's already dying, he's already humiliated. Why not just confess?

"You," he says, pulling his hands from his face. "I've-I've been in love with you for- for years."

He can't handle the shocked look that filters through Tony's features, so he looks down at the iv in his hand, lower lip trembling.

"And I know you don't think of me that way," he continues. "I know, so its okay, I'm fine, I'll get over it or, or get the surgery or something-"

"Peter," Tony interrupts, moving from the chair to the side of the bed. He grabs both sides of Peter's jaw, forcing him to look up at Tony. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," he says on a wet breath. "Because you've always thought of me as a kid. You- I'm still just a kid to you, and thats okay, Mr. Stark, I'm-"

Tony's eyebrows furrow as Peter has to stop talking. He's getting to the point where he's babbling, not understandable.

"I don't think of you as a kid," Tony says.

"Yes, you do," Peter huffed, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down. "You do, and thats okay, I promise, I've live this long with it, I'm okay."

"Has it always been that bad?"

Peter shakes his head.

"What made it worse?"

Peter's showing his hand already, he might as well expose the card up his sleeve too.

"I saw you," he murmured. "During the movie. You're sick too. I didn't mean to, I was just- checking to make sure you were okay but-"

"Peter, sweetheart," Tony interrupted, and Peter looked up at him, realizing suddenly the man's eyes are watering a little.

"I'm sick because of you."

Peter feels like someone punched the air from his lungs, and he blinks up at Tony, eyebrows drawing close as he tries to process what Tony's said.

"What?" He asks feebly. A small smile pulls at the corner of Tony's mouth and he leans forward, kissing Peter softly on the mouth.

It's a simple kiss, but it sucks the air from Peter's lungs.

"We're really bad at communicating, kid," Tony chuckled wetly, their noses brushing. Peter can't help but sniffle a laugh as well, his hands moving to grip the front of Tony's shirt.

"M'not a kid," he mumbles, pressing his forehead against Tony's. The older's hands are still cradling his face, thumbs brushing against his wet cheeks.

"No, you're not," Tony agreed.

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #ironman #spiderman #starker #ao3 #my writing #sfsummerbingo21

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fullmarvelheart · 4 years ago

Text

Crossing Lines (6/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 5,199

Recommended: 18+ readers

Summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, a wee bit of fluff?, Grant Ward (because he’s his own warning), mentions of violence

A/N: Happy Black Widow Day! I’ve been waiting for this movie to come for so long and unfortunately I won’t be able to watch it tonight😢. But anyways, here’s part six with a surprise character😉 (literally didn’t think of adding her until yesterday). Hope you guys enjoy! This has not been beta read at all. All mistakes are my own. The GIF is not mine, so credit goes to the original creator!

Series Masterlist

“Skye, come on! Why the hell did you drive off to the middle of damn nowhere?”

“Just trust me.” She says calmly as she parks the car, completely ignoring my outburst in the process. “And stop complaining, Y/N/N. I know you had another fight with your dad, so I know you wanted to be out of the city.”

“Fine, ok. But what is going on? I’m guessing Ward has no idea what you’re doing.”

“You’re not serious, right? You know he hates me doing anything remotely dangerous.”

“Not that I’m against going behind your boyfriend’s back, but what did you do?” I ask my, running my fingers through my hair.

“So, you know how Ward mentioned HYDRA’s top runner, Crossbones, the other day?” I nod. “Well, I got curious. We know nothing about him, and Ward thinks he can set a trap for him. I just, I just don’t want him to get hurt when I could have done something.”

“And you know if you did this at the Bureau, he’d find out somehow and stop you. Or Gonzales would.” Now she nods. “Alright, but I’m helping you with this. I’ve got a weird feeling about the whole thing and as your partner, it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“You worry too much.” She chuckles. “Besides, I’ll practically be behind my computer screen the whole time. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“You’re right, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying though. And why are you still with Ward?” I groan dramatically, causing her to laugh.

“Oh, be nice. He’s not bad once you get to know him.”

“I don’t know. Something about his arrogance just doesn’t settle well with me.” I shrug.

“You’re being over dramatic. He’s great!”

“He better be, he is dating my best friend after all. Now let’s find the next exit, I’m hungry!”

Her laughter echoes in my head as the car moves along the highway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stomp through the halls on a mission. The office was empty, and disturbingly dark and stuffy for nine in the morning. If he’s not in his office there’s only one other place I could imagine him in, his bedroom.

“Please, don’t kill me for this.” I mutter to myself before taking a deep breath and throwing the door open.

My eyes scan the room and zero in on the lump underneath the covers.

“Go away, Steve.” His usually pleasant rough voice is mixed with hints of sleep and something else. I can’t help it that my inner self finds it sexy while I try to stay concerned rather than turned on.

Now’s not the time for a daydream. Focus.

The door shuts with a soft click, giving him the impression ‘Steve’ left. You aren’t that lucky today. I’m no push over! My boot clad feet thud on the wooden floor as I march straight towards the end of the bed. With one strong grip at the end of the comforter, I yank the sheets off his body before turning towards the curtain clad windows.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screeches, trying to pull the blankets back up to cover himself from the cold air of the room. That was nothing. “Hey! What the hell is this, Rogers?” I pull the curtains open; the intense sunlight illuminates the room causing even me to briefly squint.

After successfully finding a single blanket to cover back up with, I notice the fact that Barnes had curled himself into a human ball in the middle of his mattress to block out the light.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” I groan, grabbing onto an edge piece of the fabric. “Get up, now!”

I try to yank it off him in one swift motion, again, but he’s faster than I thought. He springs up into a sitting position, latching on to the blanket I almost had off him, commencing a tug-of-war over the stupid thing. The muscles and veins in his arms flex and bulge, and in normal situations, I’d be impressed. But I’m getting irritated.

“You’re an absolute child.” I grunt as I fight with him.

“Let go, you heathen.” He counters.

At his command, I let go, causing him to fly backwards and bounce slightly on the mattress.

“Dangerous mob boss my ass.” I chide, crossing my arms as he just looks at me with disbelief.

“What do you want, Fury?” He groans, rubbing his eyes.

“Too much for you to comprehend at the moment but let’s start with this. How about you get your head out of your ass, get out of bed, and do your damn job?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand, Fury. And you’re crossing a line here. Get out.”

“It’s Maximoff to you right now. And what don’t I understand, Barnes?” I ask, ignoring his other remark.

“You have some nerve, coming here, into my room. Now get out.” He growls, tossing the blanket away, exposing me to the fact that he sleeps only in a pair of boxers. Damn, suits really don’t do his body justice, but damn does he look good in either.

“You have some nerve thinking this doesn’t concern me.” I snap back, regaining my focus, glad he didn’t catch me staring or was too annoyed to notice.

“And how,” He starts, finally standing up and slowly walking towards me, “Does this concern you?”

His muscles bulge as he crosses his arms, stopping at the foot of his massive king-sized bed. Though, there is an unsway of his body, and the shakiness that was in his hands that doesn’t evade my attention. Where I once noticed stubble, an unkept beard lies in its place. His hair looks knotted, unwashed, and greasy. Overall, he looks like an absolute train wreck.

“How does it not? Furthermore, how does it not concern you?! Barnes when did you last have a full meal, let alone showered!?” I exclaim, looking him over more closely. I can barely see the fact that he’s lost weight, but it’s there, it’s noticeable. The lack of a hot shower is more than just noticeable though.

He scoffs again.

“This is none of your business. Leave.”

“Stop being so fucking defensive with me. And this is my damn business, or have you forgotten the deal you have with my father? With Brooklyn on uneasy ground, especially after losing their last leader, you’re a target for HYDRA to attack. Not to mention the threat of the other mafia clans. And you know damn well that if my father has any idea that your alliance will cost him more than benefit him, he’ll watch you be fed to the sharks. But it just so happens that his daughter is in your territory, which gives you just a bit more wiggle room. However, if you put me in danger, he won’t just watch, he’ll feed you to the damn sharks himself!”

“I know!” He yells, walking closer to me.

“Then start acting like it.” I hiss.

“You don’t understand!” He argues, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Understand what?!”

“I can’t do this without him!”

The room falls into silence, and I stare at him, stunned.

“Okay? I can’t do this without my father. Yes, he’d been preparing me for years. But I always knew I could get advice from him or help if I needed it, once I took over. But this, all of this. I don’t know how to lead my men; I don’t know how prepare us. I don’t even have time to grieve the fact my father, not my boss, is gone forever, and I don’t know how to do this without him.” He chuckles dryly, hands on his hips. “I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” And he’s turning away from me.

“You’re wrong.” I cringe at how shaky and quiet my voice comes out.

“What?”

“You’re wrong.” I repeat firmly. “To think I don’t understand.” The sting of tears forming in my eyes has me pausing to close them and take a deep breath.

When I open them again, Barnes faces me properly with a look of confusion and mild concern.

“No one knows exactly what to do in these situations. But from one ally to another, you have your training, and the people you trust to help you figure it out. And you have your friends. It might not always work the way you planned, but nothing ever really does. You aren’t the only one grieving the death of your father, the men also adored him. Keep that in mind.” I pause, watching him work through what I said to him. “But don’t you dare ever assume I don’t understand grief.” I sneer. “Or how to continue on with the weight of it constantly on my shoulders. You don’t know me. So don’t act like you do.” He gapes at me, like a fish. “Get your shit together Barnes, and get to work.”

I walk out of his room as quickly as I can, letting the door slam behind me. Two corners later and I finally let myself slump against the wall. I gasp for air I didn’t know I needed as I fight back the tears trying to escape. It’s been six months! It was just a stupid dream! Get it together!

When my breathing returns to normal, I pull out my phone. The message from the unsaved number glares at me as I ignore it, again, and type out a message to another party.

“Meet me at the shore this afternoon. More details will be given soon. Bring the info you have gathered and don’t tell the boss.”

The response is almost immediate.

“Understood. He’s getting antsy about the report...”

I groan to myself as I push off the wall. He’ll just have to wait longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The zippers of my backpack nearly shriek as I pull both of them together quickly. I’ve been frustrated with my more legal job before, but this is something different.

Why the fuck are they making me go to a check in with the case officer this early? A month! I’m supposed to have a month to gain traction and trust in the role they requested of me! They should know that it isn’t safe to possibly expose an undercover operative at all, why would they risk it this early on?!

I growl to myself under my breath as I lace up my boots, aggravated that they’re risking the objective of this mission. If I get made, my father will also lose the alliance, HYDRA might learn of my role in the government and go into hiding, and that’s a lot of fuck up that doesn’t need to happen. Gonzales better either know what he’s doing or have good intel for me.

I swing the backpack up on my shoulder, just as someone knocks on the door.

“Give me a second.” I call, letting the pack flop onto my bed.

I’m surprised to find Natasha on the other side of the door, waiting with her arms crossed patiently.

“Come on in.” I say before she can speak, nodding to the inside of my room.

She raises an eyebrow in suspicion but walks in anyways. She turns to face me just and the door closes.

“All I was going to say was that Barnes is requesting everyone to head to the warehouse, but I’m guessing there’s something else?”

I nod. “I got called for a check in.” I tell her with an eyebrow raised, not needing to tell her who I’m referring to.

“This soon?”

“I’m hoping to get something worth the risk for this, but my gut says otherwise.”

She hums to herself in thought as she processes.

“I can get you a cover this time.” She states sharply. “But they need to get their act together. The cover might work just enough, but there are still people in here who don’t trust you, yet.”

“They might never.” I shrug. “But I agree with your risk assessment. I’m prepared to chew out whoever it is.”

She smirks, then motions towards my door. “Get to the warehouse and leave your things here for now. I’ll make the arrangements.”

I give her a small smile before we’re both walking off in different directions.

The warehouse is packed with people, many of which I don’t recognize, all of whom are engaging in loud conversations. I begin to push my way through the crowd, though I don’t make it too far as I feel a hand grab onto my arm. When I turn towards the pull, Drax smiles at me, motioning for me to follow him. I laugh quietly to myself as people practically jump out of Drax’s way. When we stop, I spot Carol not too far away and walk over to her.

“For the record,” She says, not even looking at me. “This is odd for us too.”

“Is this everyone?” I ask, confused.

She scoffs. “No, there are still those on patrols or jobs that aren’t here. But I’m sure they’ll be brought up to speed, on whatever this is, later.”

I hum as an answer, my eyes scanning the crowd of faces, seeing who I’ll recognize. I just make out Rollins’ silhouette as the voices begin to fall silent. Barnes stands in front of the gathering on a small platform, Rogers and Wilson flank him on either side. He looked a lot better than what I saw earlier. His beard trimmed back to a five o’clock shadow, his hair washed, brushed, and tied into a small bun behind his head, and there was strength in his body showing that he was able to eat since I last saw him. If I hadn’t seen him this morning, I wouldn’t have believed anything was wrong in the first place.

Standing behind the three mafia men, I see Barton, the two Odinson brothers, and five other men and one woman that I don’t recognize. Natasha casually merges in with the group at the last second.

“Many of you have taken note of my absence recently.” Barnes starts talking, his voice booming across the warehouse, commanding everyone’s full attention. It sends a thrill down my spine that I suppress. “And I am aware of the rumors that have been spreading regarding such absence.

“I was reminded earlier today that I was as close to my father as he was with many of you, maybe just a little closer. And yes, I’ve been grieving. But that grief has not blinded me to the enemy that is still out there, just as it has not blinded you.

“The enemy that has let their guard down because HYDRA thinks it has weakened us!” Grumbles of disapproval make him pause. “But they have not weakened us! This clan, this family, is not weakened by the grief of our leader. We are angered, enraged, that they dare try to cross us.” He pauses, listening to the murmurs of agreement of his people. “They have no idea what awaits them. Since the fall of George Barnes, they’ve expected us to kneel before them, begging for mercy. But they will be the ones begging. Their days are number because we will find them, and we will bury every last one of them as we watch HYDRA burn!”

The men begin to shout out their support, the roar almost sounds deafening to my ears, but I follow their lead, yelling with them. Barnes holds up his hand, and the crowd silences.

“Get a move on. We have work to do.” The warehouse erupts in applause, shouts of affirmation, threats to HYDRA, and anything of the sort.

The men begin to clear out of the warehouse, and Carol motions for me to follow her before walking towards Barnes.

“It’s good to see you again, boss.” She tells him with a smile, one he reciprocates before glancing at me. “I was wondering if I’d be able to take new girl around for a drive. Just to show her around our territory.”

“That’ll have to wait, Danvers.” Natasha cuts in, before turning to me. “Let’s go.”

She’s walking away before Barnes or Danvers, who both share a curious glance with me, can say anything. I only slightly hesitate before hurrying after her.

“Thank you.” I mutter once we’re out of the warehouse.

“Don’t thank me, yet. The boss will have questions.”

“Hopefully it’ll be worth it. If it isn’t, I’m gonna chew out whatever unlucky soul is sent.”

“I have no doubt of that.” She replies, and I can hear a hint of a smirk in her voice.

We near one of the doors that serve as an exit to the base, and I see my backpack sitting at the bottom of it.

“Know you way around?” She asks as I swing the backpack over my shoulder.

“Well enough. It shouldn’t be too hard.” I say, shrugging.

“Good. If you do get lost, call me,” She hands me a piece of paper with a number on it. “And I’ll sent someone for you. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I nod, folding the paper up and slipping it in the back pocket of my jeans.

She nods back, then walks away. I take a deep breath before throwing the door open and walking out in the direction of the nearest subway. When I’m a decent way away from the warehouse, I pull out my phone.

“Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier 2, two hours.” I press send on the text before placing a call, one I admittedly should have done earlier.

“About damn time!” I cringe at the tone in his voice but carry on as if I didn’t piss him off.

“I thought I wouldn’t have any contact with the Family. But everything’s going well. There was a slight issue, but I handled it and everything’s back to the way it should be.” I say over the noise of the street traffic.

“What issue? And why are you calling in public?”

“I was called in.” I grumble into the phone.

“Already?”

“Yes, but I swear if this is a waste of time, whoever I’m meeting is getting an earful.”

“I’d be concerned if they didn’t. But what issue?”

“It’s been fixed, it doesn’t matter, but I need a copy of the contract.” I state firmly, hopefully distracting him from the other thing.

“Y/N, you know-”

“Father!” I take a breath, so I don’t start arguing with him in public. “I need that copy. If I’m going to be doing this, I need to know every single condition, and every term.”

The other end of the line is silent, and I know he’s thinking things over.

“Alright. But in turn, when I ask for an update, you give me one that fucking day. Understood?”

“Yes.” I mumble, hating feeling like a scolded child.

“Good.”

“I’m getting on the subway, I have to go.”

“I expect an update tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.” I hang up the phone and let out a deep sigh before walking down the stairs.

As the subway approaches, my phone chimes and I glance at the text.

“Understood. I’ll see you there.”

The meeting place my case officer chose, a quaint little coffee shop, is two blocks away from my stop. The amount of people on the sidewalks has me wishing for my bike as I squeeze in between people, and there are several times I wished to shove the slow walkers out of my way when I couldn’t pass. Honestly being stuck in traffic was a bit more enjoyable to being stuck behind of group of gossiping women.

I come up to the corner of the street, where the shop is located, and spot its cute little sign. As I cross the street, I happen to take a glance in the window and immediately find a face I recognize.

“You got to be shitting me.” I growl to myself.

The door chimes as I walk through, and I head towards the table.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I grumble as I take a seat, using the heel of my boot to put pressure on the toes of his foot.

“Right, well,” He coughs, covering up a wince as he pulls his foot away from mine. I smirk to myself. “Considering I called for this, I’m not really surprised.”

“Ward, you son of a bitch.” I hiss, quiet enough not to draw attention, as I kick his shin sharply. “You’re an idiot. You better have a good reason for doing this Grant.”

He visibly winces and adjusts himself before clearing his throat to address me.

“As your case officer, I don’t need to explain this to you.”

“You do when you compromise my position. This was way too early!” I hiss before clearing my throat, remember not to cause a scene. “Do you have information for me or not?”

“We’ll get to that in a second. Look, if Skye was still alive, she’d want-”

“Yeah, well she’s not here. How does your new girlfriend, what was it, Kara, feel about you still being hung up on your dead ex?”

“Do not bring her into this.” He hisses, before straightening up and burying any hint of annoyance until there is barely any emotion visible on his face. I hate when he does this, it unnerves me how easy it is for him each time. “Here.” He states before putting a thin file on the table for me to grab. “This is everything that we’ve been able to find out about them recently.”

I swipe it off the tabletop and gently toss it into my backpack, without opening the folder.

“Hopefully, I don’t see you again anytime soon. This better not become a regular thing with you.” I mumble before getting up and ordering a cup of coffee to-go.

As I walk out of the store, I almost bump into a blonde woman that was on her phone. Luckily for both of us, the coffee didn’t spill. After a few seconds of hurried apologies, and foreign curse words on her end, I hurry to the station, hoping I won’t have to wait that long for my ride.

When I get to the park, I decide to wander around for a little bit. It feels good to be out in fresh air inside of being inside a building for the entire day. The clouds look fluffy and soft, the breeze is cool on my face, and the sun feels just warm enough to enjoy without sweating to death. I stop once I get to Pier 2 and just find myself leaning on the railing of the pier, looking out onto the river and the skyscrapers on the other side.

While I wait, I decide to enter Natasha’s number into my phone, then letting the piece of paper fall into the water of the river, the safest way to dispose of it. After I can no longer see the white of the paper, I return my gaze to my father’s city.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, looking towards the voice.

“Content. Happy, even just a little bit.” She says with a small smile while moving to stand beside me.

“It’s the little things like this that make me happy, May. It helps me forget about the mess that is my life, even just for a few minutes.”

She hums and we just stand in silence for a moment.

“What have you been able to find?” I ask, breaking the silence and going into business mode.

“Not much. I doubt it’ll be much help to you.”

“A little may be what I need. I still have some of her research. At this point I just need anything on him.”

“Having nightmares about her again?” She asks, concerned.

It causes me to smile, even just a little bit. Sure, my father hired her, but she has always remained loyal to me, more so than to the family. Though, I have no doubt that if she had any concern about me, she’d go talk to my father.

“More like memories. Still, they leave me feeling restless because I haven’t been able to find a lead on this guy. Skye was getting close, I know that. Which is the only explanation as to why she was killed.”

She hums again. “Still not planning on telling your father?”

I scoff. “After he basically called me paranoid for looking into Ward? No. If he finds out I haven’t let this go like he thinks, he’s going to ask questions. Questions I’m not ready to answer. Not only that, but if he finds out I contacted you while on assignment, I’d get my head chewed off. I’m technically not even allowed to contact him, yet here we all are.”

She nods with a slight chuckle, then pulls a file out from underneath her jacket and hands it to me.

“I’ll keep checking in with my contacts on the street to see if anything new about him surfaces, but until then, this is all I have.”

I stare at the closed file for a moment, before sliding that into my backpack as well.

“Thank you again, May.” She smiles briefly before nodding.

“You should get out of here, before anyone questions why you’ve been gone for a while.” I nod and push away from the railing. “Oh, and Y/N?” I turn back around. “Stay safe.”

“You too, May.” I call back, walking away.

A flash of blonde hair in the corner of my eye has me pause for a second, but when I see nothing, I shrug to myself and keep going. It must have been in my head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to my room shuts and I feel my body sag from the exhaustion of the day. I let my backpack slip to the ground with a soft thud and shuffle towards my bed. When my back meets the cool sheets of the mattress, a deep sigh escapes my lips and I close my eyes, finally enjoying a bit of rest. But, there’s a knock at my door that has me groaning loudly.

“Of course.” I grumble under my breath.

When I open the door, I’m very surprised to find Thor standing on the other side with a slight scowl on his face.

“Follow me.”

I do so, hesitantly, letting the door slowly click shut before catching up to him. The walk is silent, and for some reason, I feel uneasy for the first time since I walked in here. He leads me through the halls, and I find myself recognizing where we are going. James Barnes’ office.

Thor opens the door and motions for me to step inside, and I do, trying to maintain a façade of confidence. And I’m grateful for it, because the glare Barnes wears as he watches me enter almost has me reeling backwards. He sits behind his desk, looking regal, deadly, and in charge. No trace of friendliness shows on his face.

What really throws me for a loop is the petite redhead curled on his lap, her well-manicured nails raking through his hair in almost a possessive manner. The sight makes something churn uncomfortably in my stomach, and by the smirk on her face, she knows it too.

I look away from her, finding Rogers and Wilson in their places behind Barnes, leaning against the wall. Natasha stands off to the right, near the only window in the office.

“Dot, leave.” He says stiffly, not removing his gaze from mine.

“But Bucky Boo-”

“Now.” He growls, ignoring her high-shrieked protest. This is the infamous Barnes I’ve heard about on the streets.

She huffs in irritation, untangling herself from Barnes’ lap and starts stomping out of the room like a child throwing a small tantrum. She brushes past me, giving me the death glare on her way. I simply raise an eyebrow at her retreating form until the door shuts behind her.

“Lovely person, Bucky Boo.” I mutter under my breath, turning back around. “I haven’t looked at the information I was given, yet. I only just got back to the compound.” I say to Barnes, assuming that’s what got him so miffed.

“How was the meeting?” He asks, completely ignoring my remark, irritation still evident.

“I wanted to shove Ward’s head through the window only a few times. So, fairly well, I guess. Still pissed off he’s assigned as my case officer though.” I shrug still not seeing the point of this.

I see Barnes’ eye twitch and hear the soft click of the door closing. I turn around to see the blonde that I almost walked into on the sidewalk from earlier, and everything falls into place. With a click of my tongue in understanding, I turn back around towards Barnes.

“You had me followed.” I state.

“Yelena Belova, Nat’s sister, was sent to keep an eye on you. Make sure you stayed safe.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” I hum towards the ground, frustrated that I didn’t see that coming earlier, as my hands find purchase on my hips, my nails digging into the fabric of my shirt.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a message saying you weren’t on your way back after the drop off, but was going to meet someone else.”

“Yeah, and I’m not telling you why.” I fire back stubbornly, my hands still on my waist.

Barnes blinks rapidly, shocked, because I didn’t deny it, that I said no to him so easily, or maybe because of something else completely. Whatever the reason, he recovers quickly. A scowl now twisting up his features.

“We had a deal with your f-”

“I’m not the one that needs reminder of that deal, it seems.” I snap. “What I did today, was for reasons you aren’t entitled to.” His scowl deepens. “Now, I could give you some information about it. If you were to tell me something in return.”

“And what’s that?” He growls, but willing to play my game.

“The last crate I picked up on my assignment.” Recognition dances over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s about that. Tell me what was in there because I know for a fact it wasn’t the shit on the manifest. That was just a cover. You tell me what the shipment was, and I’ll tell you what I was given.”

He clenches his jaw, but doesn’t say a word. I wait for a moment before nodding, more to myself than him.

“You’ll get the info the Bureau sent me, once I make sure it’s actually useful.”

I turn and exit the office quickly, no one saying a word to me before the door closes. My nails dig into my palms as I stomp back to my room, pissed off at the day I’ve had. My door slams shut, and I begin pacing the floor of my room. Anger flows through my veins like a fire that can’t be stopped. I had at least thought I was gaining some ground with Barnes and even some of the others, but apparently not. The only reason he let me go free is because of that stupid deal.

One thing’s certain after tonight, though. James Barnes is not to be trusted.

Part 7

Tag List:

@the-ss-horniest-book-club

@broco8

@tcc-gizmachine

@miraclesoflove

@ladyacrasia

#marvel #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #hbc bucky barnes appreciation days #mob!bucky #mobster bucky #mob!bucky x reader #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #carol danvers

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leggylance · 4 years ago

Note

Hoo boy leggy this got Long and I am taking Full advantage of the ask update so don’t say you didn’t ask for it 👿👿

Lance sleeps with a face mask sometimes, so he probably lays very still on his back

Keith tends to curl up in the fetal position, a habit from spending years going to bed not quite feeling safe. He thrashes a little, too, but not enough to fall off the bed or anything

Even though he sleeps on his back most of the time, Lance loves spooning. Doesn’t matter which spoon, but he finds himself being the big spoon most of the time because he’s Long

Keith won’t admit it out loud but he also loves spooning. At least when it’s with Lance

Keith can only be described as an aggressive cuddler. When he’s the big spoon, he practically crushes Lance to his chest like he’s afraid something will happen to him if he lets go. It makes it hard to breathe sometimes but it also tugs at Lance’s heartstrings

He tends to cling pretty hard in other positions too, wrapping himself around Lance like an octopus. It’s cute until Lance wakes up in the morning needing to pee and Keith refuses to let him out of his iron grip

Lance, by contrast, is a needy cuddler. When he’s big spoon, he’s always gently (but insistently) pulling Keith closer, pressing little kisses into his hair/shoulder, whining about him being too far away, etc. Keith says it’s annoying but mostly he’s just glad that his back is to him so he can’t see him blush

Lance doesn’t mind though. He knows by the way that Keith clutches Lance’s arms to his chest that Keith very much wants him there

Most of the time though they actually sleep with Keith’s head on Lance’s chest and a leg thrown over him

Lance snores very slightly when he’s on his back. Keith actually finds it soothing but has learned not to mention it because it makes Lance squawk

Sometimes Keith migrates to being fully on top of Lance at which point Lance is like ‘babe ily and I would love to hold you like the needy little baby you are but you’re also built like a brick house and you’re crUSHING M-‘

Lance loves having silky pajamas and even silkier sheets. Keith honestly finds them slippery and annoying but he deals

Keith just wears a ratty old t-shirt and boxers to bed. Lance would complain but it’s already a step up from him just conking out in the clothes he wore all day, which he already had to train him out of

Sometimes Lance sleeps in just sweatpants though. Just sweatpants. Keith has a really hard time sleeping those nights

He tries to get back at him by sleeping shirtless himself but it backfires because Lance just keeps running his hands all over him and complaining about how naturally soft and muscular he is when he doesn’t even try

Keith still keeps the knife under their pillow. Lance... adjusts.

He does buy a nice leather sheath for it though. Yknow. To prevent midnight decapitations

If Keith wakes up first he will just. Stare. At Lance’s sleeping form. It’s some kind of protective Galra thing, maybe. Lance pretends it’s cute but it still freaks him out every time

Or his more human instincts will take over and he’ll find more... creative ways to wake him up. Especially if Lance is wearing sweatpants. Lance maybe wears them to bed more often because of this

Lance thinks it’s fun to press kisses all over Keith’s face and baby talk him until he wakes up. Keith begs to differ

Keith doesn’t like being woken up. His grumpy ass will either shove Lance’s face away from him or make it absolutely impossible to leave the bed. Either way he’s glaring daggers. But Lance keeps doing it anyways, because there’s just something exhilarating about having that intense purple gaze piercing through him

They’re ridiculous when it comes to going to bed mad at each other. They’ll start off pouting and giving each other the silent treatment, backs facing each other on opposite sides of the bed, but within 15 minutes they’re angrily reaching for each other and getting into position

“You’re a jerk. This doesn’t mean that I like you or anything. ‘M just cold.”

“Psh yeah. You suck. It’s not like you’re all that special. You’re — My side of the bed is just lonely. Fuck, I mean, you’re like a teddy bear — NOT a cute teddy bear. A very ugly grumpy looking teddy bear with a mullet. Lucky for you I don’t need to look at your stupid pretty face to cuddle it.”

“...Did you just call me pretty?”

“Pretty STUPID. That’s what I said. Shut up. Just go to sleep already. Anyways you said you were cold do you need more blankets or—“

If you caught Lance simping for Keith while he was supposed to be mad at him... no u didn’t

Keith can feel the change in Lance’s breathing when he has a nightmare. He always strokes his jaw and kisses him more gently than any other time when that happens

Keith wakes up from nightmares practically jumping out of bed and gasping for breath. Lance is much better at talking him down. He might even softly sing him old Cuban lullabies

Keith has ridiculously cold feet and Lance always yelps when they touch him. Keith goes >:) and tries to rub them against as much of Lance’s legs as possible but it backfires and makes Keith fall even deeper in love when Lance traps his freezing feet between his ankles and tries to warm them up.

Sometimes Keith will nuzzle deeper into Lance’s chest while he’s asleep and Lance’s heart goes 💕💖💫❣️❤️🌟💙💖 ✨ 💕💜💫✨💥 every time

anon..... you outsold

my hcs were straight up chaotic in comparison kfhfkf

#anonymous

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quillsareswords · 5 years ago

Note

Could you do something with Damian and a really cuddly, clingy, touchy-feely reader? I feel like his brothers would be v confused about the whole situation bc Damian's just chillin and always seems neutral to what's happening while reader is just like, koala bear hugging him and stuff all the time.

Firstly. I love this concept with every fiber of my being because, oh good god, it's me. Thank you so much for bringing this to inbox, because I've been lacking on inspiration lately, and this is just what I need right now. Thanks doll!!

Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)

Tim stops dead in his tracks, cereal bowl nearly slipping from his hand as he halts in the doorway to the huge living room. He pauses, before cautiously asking, "What is this? What am I looking at?"

Damian's arm twitches against your back, the only give away that he's been caught off guard. You seem just as relaxed, sprawled on top of him like you've been there your whole life.

You don't even look at him, eyes still glued to the phone screen shining up at you from the floor, which you're facing with your face pressed against Damian's shoulder. "You've known me for five years and you still haven't learned my name? Rude."

He blinks. "Sure, sure. Right. Because it's absolutely normal for anyone to successfully get within a foot of Damian and not get knocked out."

You snort, but it still isn't enough to pry your attention away from your phone. Damian either, as he reads a book over your shoulder, which is settled under his chin. He must be tired or in a terrifyingly good mood, if he hasn't shoved you off in hopes of hiding emotions from his family. That's what he usually does when he gets caught with you, anyway.

He's been tiptoeing around the subject of you for a solid year and half now. It wasn't exactly easy, seeing as you're also a family friend, what with being a vigilante and all. You're Damian's partner, have been for three years, and you're in the manor often enough that you have your own room, right next to Damian's.

Still, even with no clear answers from either of you, the whole family has suspected a relationship for a long time.

But Damian isn't very touch oriented. In fact, he's been known to go to nearly astonishing lengths to avoid being touched at all.

And now here he is, you laying on top of him, out in the open, absolutely unbothered by Tim catching it.

Tim decides quickly not to risk Damian's mood spoiling while he's around, so he backpedals and heads for his room.

• • •

Jason doesn't come to the manor often, but when he does, there's usually a decently concerning reason for it. This time, he's waiting out a possible kidnapping by one king pin or another. You haven't been paying as much attention as you probably should.

Now, he's trotting down the steps from Bruce's office to fix a suspicious rattling noise his motorcycle has been making for a shameful period of time.

However, he stops beside the super computer, looking a little aghast and far too dramatic for the sight.

Damian side-eyes him, still typing away, but his head doesn't move. It really can't, because you're resting your head on top of it.

You're resting your full weight on the back of the chair, which Jason now realizes isn't the tall backed chair that usual sits there, with your cheek buried in the soft looking bush that is Damian's hair. Your eyes are closed, and your arms and draped over his shoulders, hands laying on his chest.

Jason catches himself staring when Damian's side-eyeing turns into a curious glare. Tentatively, Jason points to you, and raises an eyebrow.

Lowly, Damian somewhat patiently answers, "She's half asleep."

Your eyebrows slant together. "Hmm?"

Jason's expression becomes more confused. "She sleeps standing up?"

"Apparently," Damian mumbles.

Jason, more than a little perturbed but Damian's oddly placid demeanor and your absurd sleeping habits, shuffles the rest if the way to his bike, grabbing the toolbox on his way.

• • •

Dick sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket—correction, three blankets, facing the rest of the living room, where Damian sits on one couch, and Duke occupies the other.

"No no, I'm not saying Bella wasn't smokin, I'm just saying that those facial expressions and life decisions were questionable enough to make a guy think twice," Dick tries to reason.

Duke makes a face. "Bro, are you kidding? If a chick stares at you from across a lunch room and you've never spoke to her, you don't even try."

Damian scoffs. Duke raises an eyebrow, and just when he's about to beg for the story of who tied him to a steel chair and forced him to watch Twilight, you shoulder the double door open.

Damian doesn't look up from his newest book, which could be deemed rude if you weren't so close and comfortable with one another. "Evening, Beloved, how was your drive?"

You say nothing. You drop your bag by his feet, crawl the rest of the way onto the couch, and collapse. Your head in on a pillow between Damian's thighs and the arm of the couch, the rest of you divided unevenly between his lap and the rest of the couch.

He glances away from the pages briefly. "Traffic?" His hand slips under your shirt to gently run blunt nails up and down your spine.

For a moment, you're quiet, and neither of the two older men know how to react.

Then, without warning, you wail into the pillow. "Who the everloving fuck drives a Winnebago through central Gotham at six o'clock going fourteen miles an hour?"

Duke barks a loud laugh, before he claps a hand over his mouth in fear of a punishment. But a man can only do so much, so he sits with his hand over his mouth, giggling like a fifteen year old listening to a dirty joke with his parents in the room.

Damian chuckles lightly, white teeth peeking through a little smile that he's trying to suppress, much for the same reason Duke is doing his best not to let you hear him laugh.

Dick is more focused on the two of you, and the fact that his baby brother has grown up and changed for the better so much—

• • •

Cassandra climbs the stairs with some difficulty, thanks to two new sets of stitches and a few too many fresh bruises.

It's nothing a few days of relaxation won't fix. It was worth it, to see Poison Ivy put back behind bars—even if it did take four of you.

Shortly after arriving back, you and Damian had disappeared up to his room, after you'd both been checked over by Alfred. Aside from some intense bruising and a fee cuts and scrapes, you'd both been spared.

She knocks on his door a few times. With no answer, she loudly turns the handle and pushes the door open slowly, giving you enough time to correct her if need be. She knows at least one of you are in here, because the light is on. "Alfred sent me to tell you that there's dinner, if you want–"

She stops. You are, in fact, both in the room. However, neither of you are conscious.

Damian is sprawled haphazardly across his bed, face half squished into a pillow.

You're flopped across his back, horizontal across his bed, likely also with a pillow, but she can't see your face to be sure.

For a moment that feels a little intrusive, she stares, eyes wide. Not because he's in only boxers and you're in shorts and a sports bra (neither are necessarily a new sight, with one makeshift locker room in the Cave and a city with way too many privacy-surpassing emergencies), but because she's never witnessed Damian allowing another person to be so close to him while asleep.

Even on week long stakeouts that confine them to one room, he claims one corner for himself and doesn't tolerate that invisible boundary to be broken, especially when he's asleep.

She wouldn't even be so surprised if you were passed out in his reading chair, or even on a pile of blankets in the floor, or hell, even if you were on opposite sides of the bed. But you're literally as close to him as you could possibly be. And he's still sound asleep.

She closes the door and backs away slowly, a little smile on her face, even though she was too tired to laugh at the joke Bruce tried to crack a few minutes ago.

• • •

Bruce sits, almost impatiently, on a stone bench by the fountain the middle of Gotham City Gardens. The whole family had come here for the day, on invitation of the organization's owners. Of course, not everyone was officially recognized as family by anyone outside the Manor, so there were quite a few plus ones—you being one of them.

Of course you were. You're always invited. Over the years, it's become a running joke. A trip to the grocery store? (Y/N) must be invited. Walking from the W.I. building to an ice cream parlor and back? I bet (Y/N) is invited. At one point, Damian became so simultaneously annoyed and amused by it that for a week, you really did join him on every single outing. No one knows how exactly you made it across Gotham in six minutes flat to help him pick up cereal but by golly you managed it.

Bruce is currently waiting on you and Damian, who swore to meet him here for a few pictures (at Alfred's request). The pair of you had gone off on your own after about an hour of meandering around with his family, and no one has heard from either of you since. He would be worried, but you were both too excited about this to get into any trouble that would risk being sent home early.

Your laughter finds him before you do. It comes from around a corner of tall hedges, and shortly after, so do you.

You're smiling ear to ear, giggling like a school girl, elbows balanced on Damian's shoulders, about as precariously as you are on his back. That is to say, quite stable. Damian is grinning as well, his arms linked around you're knees at his sides to keep you as stable as you are. You've got an ice cream cone in each hand, one obviously having had more attention than the other.

Bruce's heart swells in his chest at the absolute joy on his son's face.

Damian stops not too far, shifting your weight to free one hand. You help, carefully resituating yourself to hold yourself up easily. You hand him the neglected ice cream, resting your now free hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Father," Damian sounds a little winded, and Bruce wonders if the running he heard earlier had been you two. "Somebody found an ice cream bar and insisted we stop before meeting you." He doesn't sound apologetic in the least.

"Hey!" You laugh, flicking the back of his ear as payback.

As payback for payback, he takes the edge of his cone between his teeth, and uses his free hand to give the back of your knee a quick pinch, before he occupies his hand again to tilt the odds in his favor.

You squeal and jerk. "Damian! You're gonna make me fall, and if I go down, you're coming with me!"

Bruce laughs loudly.

• • •

Alfred is on his way to the library to finish the afternoon chores. All he needs to do is straighten up in there, and he can call it an evening. Just in time, too, as one of the local channels is running a Downton Abbey marathon tonight that he doesn't particularly want to miss.

He pushes open the doors to get a little extra fresh air, but pauses just inside the doorway.

Damian is stretched out in one of the plush leather chairs, his long legs propped up by his ankles on the coffee table, head resting limply on the back of the chair. You're curled up in his lap, head on his shoulder, legs folded up on either side of his thighs, arms wound around his back. His hands are folded together on your back. You're both fast asleep.

The elder man is suddenly flooded with memories of the boy's first few months in this manor. In this room, even. He was politely feral, as Bruce had once put it. He was so uncomfortable all the time, though he fought not to show it. It was so new to him, to be openly cared for the way his family tried to care for him. Most people he met back then treated him as the cold, rude, trained assassin that he presented himself as.

So many overlooked the terrified ten year old boy that shook beneath the armor and the weight of the mantels he was expected to take up in so few years.

Of course Alfred had been paying attention to him all this time, all the growing he's done and the man he's becoming. He's always been proud.

But it's here, in this exact moment, that Alfred really takes in how different he is now, compared to then.

Not only did he find the strength and the trust to forge a close bond with you, one that would arguably outlast just about anything it was forced to endure, but he'd fostered such a sweet affection for you. He's found the space within himself to make room for a great love for you, and his family, and his friends.

And you're so good for him. You remind him of the things he could be, if he wanted, and not of what he should be or could have been. You provide him a sense of normalcy when he needs it, and battle ready companion when he needs that.

You look past the blazing armor of controlled aggression and lessons learned to reach the beautiful soul he is. And most importantly, you love him for all of it. You manage to dig so far beyond what he's been taught and the walls he's put up, that you look at what was meant to be the perfect soldier and you see a pillow to sleep on. You trust him with everything, including your vulnerability, just as he trusts you.

Alfred marks the page of the open book on the floor, closes it, and leaves it in the table for you later. He leaves as quietly as he came, in hopes of leaving the two of you undisturbed.

#damian wayne imagine #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne headcannon #damian wayne blurb

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jadedxrealityw · 4 years ago

Text

-When We Are Alone- Draco malfoy x Female Reader

☼-🐍-☼

Request: Hi! Before anything, I just want to say your writing has been living rent free in my mind, like I'd literally just be washing the dishes and I'll smile like an idiot because I remember that one imagine hehe.

Can I request an imagine where Draco and Y/n are in a relationship, but they started off as friends in their friend group along with Pansy, Theo and Blaise. They like to keep it private but everybody knows they're together. But the thing is, reader is the one who isn't used to affection that's why she asked Draco to just act like normal friends when others are around which even reluctantly, he accepts.So when they're all alone, that's when they get lovey-dovey and the reader gets all blushy.

Anddddd this is optional--- if you want to make it angst. Sometimes Draco feels as if he's not important enough for her because she's so good at not showing her affections when with others so he tries to avoid her. Reader thought it was just normal because they're not always sweet and romantic. But one day, someone who kept flirting with her was trying to persuade her into a relationship and kept saying Draco and her didn't seem real at all but while they were talking they didn't know Draco was eavesdropping. He didn't want to meddle in yet because he's so curious to know what she thinks too BUT THEN THE READER LIKE CONFESSED ALL HER LOVE FOR DRACO TO THE GUY, SAYING THINGS LIKE YOU MAY NOT SEE ME ALWAYS CLINGING AROUND HIM BUT HE'S LIKE MY WHOLE WORLD or something hehe so like really fluffy after. Anyway, dear. It's alright if you reject this though hehe but thank you in advance and thank you for writing amazing stories. Ily 💖

Kody: Not me googling when is it okay to say i love you. What am i? A ROBOT!

House: Slytherin

Possible Triggers/Warnings: cursing, cormac mclaggen, insecure Draco, blaise and theo being cute as hell.

☼-🐍-☼

Six months ago

as you sat on the sofa of the common room you felt a cold chill run through you. Even in the dungeons it was still cold. To be fair, you were only wearing a black tank top and a pair of mens boxers. There comfy, don’t judge. You had been waiting for your friends to wake up in the common room.

the first two to come out were Blaise and Theo, holding hands, Theo was rubbing his eyes “Morning Y/n” Blaise smiles and you wave to him. Blaise sits on the loveseat and pulls Theo into in his lap who just lays his head on his chest and closes his eyes.

you smile slightly at them. They were so cute together. You wonder what it was like being in a relationship. In all 17 years of your life you had never once been with somebody romantically. No one seemed to like you in that way. You longed for somebody to love and cherish you. What a childish dream now.

“Sup bitches” and there was Pansy, she was wearing what looked liked Ginny’s Quidditch sweater. “Hey Pans” you say as she sits down on the floor in front of the sofa “Is Theo sleeping again?” Pansy says quite loudly, causing Blaise to hush her “Yes he is. So tone it down” he spoke

Pansy held her hands up in surrender, choking back a laugh “Okay sorry. Anyway, Where’s Draco? He’s usually up first. Think he overslept?” she says, leaning back against the sofa you sat on. “Think? I know he overslept. I snuck into his room to get an extra pillow for Theo and he was still awake”

Blaise laughs lightly, making Pansy’s eyes go wide “What time was it?” she asked. “three am in the morning” he replies. You look over at him and tilt your head “Did you ask why?” you ask. Blaise tenses up a bit before answering “Um- He just told me to shove off. You know Draco. He’s cranky when tired.”

you nod slowly. Seemed like Draco enough. “Oh okay. I’m going to check up on him. Can one of you guys bring breakfast here?” you ask, climbing off the couch and stepping onto the cold floor. Pansy raises her hand and gives you a thumbs up “I’ll do it!- Oh shit sorry” she says and lowers her voice instantly.

Blaise shoots her a glare as Theo stirs in his arms. You chuckle before walking out the common room and into the boys hall, leaving the three Slytherins alone. As Pansy watches you leave she turns to Blaise “’He told me to shove off’? Really? That’s the best you could up with?”

Blaise rolls his eyes as he waves his hand around “What was i supposed to say? Yeah Draco was up all night because he can’t stop thinking about you. Oh also everytime he sleeps he has dreams about you, cause that was the best option Pans” he huffs. Pansy groans before walking out the common room.

back to you

as you walked your mind wandered to Draco himself. You hoped he had been taking care of himself. He was your best friend and you wanted the best for him or maybe you told yourself that to convince yourself that you didn’t have a crush on him. You had been friends with Draco since you came to Hogwarts.

feelings never really developed until last year and it’s like you finally saw him. The little things he did like grab your hand randomly or always fixing your hair became less platonic for you. A weird feeling would invade your stomach and your face would feel hot.

it was strange because you had never felt this way about anyone. Especially Draco. You decided to not tell him in fear that he would reject you and it would break up your friend group. You liked him, but you loved your friends and you weren’t about to let some feelings ruin your friendships.

soon enough you were at Draco’s door. Please be wearing a shirt. Please be wearing a shirt. You knock twice and are surprised as the door pushes open. Had Blaise forgot to close it when he left Draco’s room the room the previous night? You slowly push the door open to see Draco laying in bed.

as you walk in you close the door, being careful with your steps. You tip toe over to his bed, the wooden floor creaking under your feet every couple seconds. You didn’t want to be loud and wake him up in a rude manner. Finally reaching him, you place your hand on his shoulder and gently shake it.

“Draco, it’s time to get up. We have breakfast out in the common room and-” Draco grabs your hand and pulls you into the bed. You fall on your back as Draco holds your arm above you head, hovering over you. Your face heated up like all the times before, feeling small under his gaze.

as his grey eyes scanned over you he sighs deeply “What’re doing in here?” he asked, weirdly casual. “P- Pansy’s getting breakfast and i wanted to make sure you ate. Why did you throw me on your bed?” you fired back with a question of your own. “I was having a dream. Thought i was till in it when i woke up” he says, oddly casual again.

you make an ‘O’ shape with your mouth and nod “Okay. What happened to cause this?” you gesture to the situation by tugging your hand in his firm grip. He seemed to tense at your question before his head dropped in what seemed like shame “I’m sorry for this” he spoke.

okay, now you were extra confused. “Sorry for what-” then it happened. His cold lips crashed down onto yours in a swift motion leaving you frozen in shock. Oh Merlin. What do you do?! You like him right? and this means he might like you, right? So kiss him you fool!

your mind finally stopped debating and you leaned into the kiss, trying to kiss him back. It was way more easy then you imagined. After a couple seconds more you both pulled away from the kiss. Both panting to get air into your lungs. After that makeout session you both talked, for hours.

Draco admitted his feelings for you and you did the same. Turns out you were wrong, it didn’t ruin your guys friendship in the slightest. Blaise, Theo, and Pansy thought it was adorable and were really happy for you both. It was a relief really that everything turned out well. You were Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend.

☼-🐍-☼

Present

the day was slowly coming to an end as you and your friends ate dinner. You feel Draco’s hand on yours under the table and smile lightly. At least no one could see. You didn’t care much for public displays of affection. You didn’t even know how to act like a couple in public, really.

you expressed these feelings with Draco and he agreed, not wanting you to be uncomfortable. So behind closed doors you two were the cutest you could be. “Well, i’m done. How ‘bout you Y/n” Draco turns his head to face you as you place the silver fork on the wooden table. “Yeah i’m finished”

Draco gets up from his seat and holds out his hand for you to help you get up. You take his hand and he helps you out of your seat. You let go as you both begin to walk out the dining hall. “They both know that they left us right?” Pansy asked, watching the couple walk away.

Theo chuckles as he takes a bite of a muffin he was eating “I think it’s cute that Draco just wants her all to himself” he coos, leaning his head on Blaises shoulder. Blaise nods in agreement with his boyfriend “I wonder what Y/n’s like behind closed doors considering she barely acts like his girlfriend”

Theo wacks Blaise shoulder with a offended look “Hey! How she deals with her emotions is no ones business but her’s. Bad Blaise. No kisses” he pouts. Blaise just blinked mindlessly before grinning “Okay, fine. No kisses” he says, watching as Theo’s pout turned into a frown “No, wait. I want kisses”

☼-🐍-☼

after walking out both you and Draco went into his dorm where you were now cuddling on his bed. “Hm. Your so warm” Draco hums as he digs his head into the crook of your neck. Your face heats up and you let out an embarrassed whine “Draco” you could practically feel his smirk.

“darling don’t say my name that way” he speaks in a strained tone as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice. Draco was an immense tease. You couldn’t help but smile though. “I’m sorry” you push out your bottom lip in a pout.

Draco removes his head from your neck to look at your face, smirk still on his face. “Don’t pout. I like the way you smile when we are alone.” he spoke, his hand reaching up to grace over your cheek and push a strand of hair away from your face. You crack a small smile and so does he “There it is”

he leans in a pecks your lips gently “So beautiful” and he continues to whisper praises to you as he kisses each part of your face. Not even stopping once you began to laugh from the ticklish feeling. “Draco! stop!” you say through fits of laughter. You hear him chuckle evilly, which wasn’t good at all.

after a couple minutes he stops “Tired?” he asked, hovering over you with a loving smile on his face. You nod slowly, your face a deep shade of pink. he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead “Want to sleep in my room tonight?” he asked, since you never had before.

“I don’t mind” you spoke in a whisper. He smiled brightly as he lifts off his wand and with a wave the lights turn off. He shuffles around to grab the top of his black silk blanket and place it over the both of your bodies. You turn to lay on your side, facing the wall. A position you found comfortable.

Draco lays behind her, also on his side. His chest was pressed against your back while his arm was wrapped around you. He presses one final kiss to your temple before closing his eyes, whispering a goodnight. It was the first time the both of you slept in the same bed and you liked it.

☼-🐍-☼

Two Weeks Later

as much as Draco cared for you, his demons sometimes got the best of him. The nagging thought in the back of his head telling him he was nothing to you just became louder and louder. It didn’t help that you were perfect at not showing your feelings for him in public.

we all have our days where we let our demons control our thoughts and this was one of them for Draco. He woke up in a depressed and angered state and decided that seeing you today was just to much for him. So he planned to ignore you all day and hide away in his dorm after.

for you it was just a normal day. Being romantic with Draco in public was just something that never happened, so when he purposely ignored you, you saw nothing strange about it. You did begin to question the almost dirty looks he gave you or when you went up to him to ask him something and he just walked away.

in the middle of the day you were in potions class. What was strange was that when you walked in Draco wasn’t in his seat, which was next to you. Instead he was sitting next to Blaise, which also meant that you were going to have to partner up with Cormac Mclaggen. Ew.

once Snape gave you your assignment you collected the ingredients and made your way back to your desk. “Hi i’m Cormac by the way” the Gryffindor boy spoke. You look at him and smile politely “Y/n” you said before placing the moonstone into a mortar and pestle to ground it up.

he looks at the various ingredients and smiles shyly “I wasn’t listening to Snape. What are we making again?” of course. “A draught of peace potion. Can you put in the syrup of hellebore for me?” you ask and he nos quickly before picking it up. He pours a few drops as instructed and begins to stir it.

After the moonstone is crushed you pour it into the cauldron and he stirs that up as well “Wow, your like really good at potions” he spoke and you nod once “It’s just easy for me i guess” you shrug your shoulders. “Wow, smart and beautiful. Your quite a catch Y/n” he smirks lightly, which rubs you the wrong way

you just give him a half smile before continuing to ground up porcupine quills and a unicorn horn. In the end. You got the best potion and were rewarded a small vile of a draught of peace. You were happy you passed, but were not please when Cormac wrapped his arm around you, but you pushed it off.

☼-🐍-☼

after class you were walking outside to make your way to Hagrid’s hut to help care for buckbeak when you hear somebody shouting your name “Y/n!” you turn around and watch as Cormac runs up to you “Yes?” you say, stopping in your tracks. “I wanted you to have this” he says and reaches into his robe.

Draco was walking outside to catch his breath. Seeing Cormac drool over you and you doing nothing about it was eating up outside and he needed some fresh air before he blew up and beat the living shit out of Cormac. That’s when he heard you and the Gryffindor and decided to listen in and watch behind a pillar.

Cormac pulls out the draught of peace and hands it to you. You smile kindly and take it from his hands “Thank you” he smiles back “So i was wondering. Would you like to go out with me sometimes?” he asked. Well shit. You sigh deeply and shake your head “I’m sorry, but i already have a boyfriend Cormac”

his face drops “Who?” he asked in a slightly irritated voice, which catches you off guard. “Um Draco Malfoy?” you said, taking a step back. He clicks his tongue as a bitter laugh comes from his mouth “Draco Malfoy? You two may act like best friends, but not lovers”

you took slight offense to that, but it was true. You didn’t like pda because you didn’t have the slightest clue on how to be a public couple. But screw this guy. “Excuse me? What i do with Draco in public is none of your concern Cormac” you go to storm off when he grabs your arm, forcing you back.

“If your lying to play hard to get it worked. Why would Malfoy ever go out with someone who doesn’t even pay attention to him during the day” his smirk very prominent and very gross. You rip your arm away from him, causing him to stumble a bit.

“You have no right to say that to me! Just because i am not hanging off of him every second of every day does not me i don’t cherish him! He’s everything to me and i don’t deserve him at all! and i just realized that he may leave me today or tomorrow or in a hour! and i can’t believe it took me this long to realize that i’m so hopelessly in love with him. Nonetheless, fuck you, you fucking pervert!”

your words were laced with venom, leaving the Gryffindor shocked. You pulled your wand out and hold his against his neck “Never, ever touch me or i’ll end you. Understand me?” you whisper, your face close to his. His eyes widen in fear before nodding quickly. “Then go!” you shout.

he falls back and you watch as he struggles to get up before running away. That’s why Draco had been ignoring you, because he doesn’t think you love him. Tears flowed down your face, sobs wracking throughout your body. You were going to lose him and it was all your fault.

you drop your wand to wipe your face from the overflowing of warm tears. As you go to drop to your knees so you could cry on the floor, arms wrap around your waist and in fear of it being Cormac you open your eyes to see Draco, crying? “Draco?” you choke out.

he cracks a smile and nods “Yeah” he says and reaches up to wipe a tear running down your cheek. Your eyes widen in realization “You heard all of that didn’t you. Draco i’m so sorry-” he hushes you and pulls you into a hug “Don’t. I let my insecurities get the best of me. Hearing you say you love me was enough to bring me back to reality and that i’m going to murder Mclaggen”

you laugh quietly and sniffle “I do love you and i want you to know that i’m going to show you more public affection from now on” you nod sternly. He pulls away from the hug, shaking his head “Love, you don’t have to do that” he says. You wave you head, shaking your head.

“I want everyone to know that i’m yours and you are mine, because if a girl ever did that to you. I’d kill her” this time Draco laughs, a grin forming on his face “I think i’m a bad influence. You’re starting to sound like me” you smile and reach up to grab his face “I love you Draco” you speak.

you lean your forehead against his watching his smile grow wider “I love you too Y/n. To the moon and back and i’ll never forget it again” he presses a kiss to your lips, one that you return quickly. It was passionate and slightly sloppy due to the emotions running high between both of you.

you reach behind his neck to tug at the platinum blond locks, a groan slipping past his lips. Draco pulls away, panting heavily “Holy shit you need to kiss me like that more often” he smiled widely. You chuckle and lean in to kiss him again, but he stops you “What?” you say, but he pecks your lips quickly. “I love you and we can continue this later in my dorm preferably, but i have Gryffindor to 'talk to’”

your eyes widen as he lets go of you and pulls out his wand. He begins to walk back into the school. You lean down and collect your wand before running to catch up with him “Draco! You can not kill Cormac!” you shout and he smirks. “I’m just going to talk to him Y/n” he spoke.

“With your wand!?”

☼-🐍-☼

Kody: Cormac slander is the only slander i know. I hope you enjoyed this one, cause it was long. Anyways, peace!

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