#i was planning to write fic but got distracted by that line

[n1daehodefender]

hii 💕 I love your writings. can I please request a fic or headcanons about going on an amusement park date with daeho (or anyone else you write for)? thank youu

Going to the amusement park headcanons!!

Pairing: Kang dae ho, Nam gyu, thanos (su-bong) separately

Warnings: none i think?

A/N: im sorry i havent posted in a couple days i havent been feeling my best:) but reqs are open

Kang Dae-ho

Dae-ho is over-the-moon excited when you suggest going to the amusement park. He immediately starts planning, looking up the best rides, the tastiest food stalls, and even figuring out the least crowded times to make sure the experience is perfect.

He insists on matching outfits, joking about wearing something ridiculous like cartoon-themed shirts or silly hats, but if you agree, he’s all in.

The morning of the trip, he wakes you up early, practically bouncing around like an overexcited puppy. He’s already packed essentials: sunscreen, water bottles, snacks, and even a small first-aid kit (his sisters made him overly prepared for everything).

Dae-ho’s excitement is contagious. He practically drags you from ride to ride, beaming like a kid on Christmas morning.

He’s obsessed with roller coasters and tries to convince you to ride the scariest ones with him. If you’re hesitant or scared, he’s incredibly understanding and doesn’t push. Instead, he’ll hold your hand, joke around to distract you, and promise to buy you as many snacks as you want afterward.

He’s a pro at carnival games. He wins a giant stuffed animal for you after spending way too much time and money on it. He’s ridiculously proud of himself and insists on carrying it around all day, even when it’s clearly inconvenient.

Between rides, he loves taking quiet breaks, sitting on benches while sharing cotton candy or churros. He insists on feeding you a piece, and his bright smile when you finally let him is priceless.

He’s incredibly affectionate, holding your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, or pulling you into spontaneous hugs. If you’re shy about PDA, he tries to tone it down but can’t help sneaking in little touches.

At sunset, he pulls you onto the Ferris wheel, claiming it’s the perfect way to end the day. As the ride reaches the top, he gets uncharacteristically quiet, gazing out at the view before turning to you with a soft, almost shy smile. “This is the best day ever… because I got to spend it with you.”

If anyone bumps into you or tries to cut in line, he immediately steps in, his normally sweet demeanor replaced with a firm, protective tone. He doesn’t get aggressive, but his presence alone is enough to make people back off.

He’s hyper-aware of your comfort, constantly checking if you’re okay, if you’re tired, or if you need anything.

Nam Gyu

Nam Gyu isn’t exactly thrilled when you suggest the amusement park. He claims it’s “too crowded and noisy,” but deep down, he’s touched that you want to spend the day with him. He tries to act nonchalant, but you catch the small smile he hides when you talk about your plans.

He’s not a morning person, so he grumbles the entire way there, sipping on his coffee and complaining about how early it is. But the moment he sees your excitement, he softens and starts making sarcastic comments to make you laugh.

Nam Gyu is surprisingly fun to go with because of his dry humor. He makes sarcastic remarks about the overly enthusiastic park staff, the overpriced snacks, and the long lines, but it’s all in good fun.

He’s not a fan of extreme rides, but he’ll go on them if you want to. He tries to act unfazed, but you catch him holding on for dear life during a particularly intense roller coaster. When you tease him afterward, he just smirks and says, “I was worried you’d be scared.”

His favorite part is the haunted house. He claims he’s not scared, but you catch him flinching at the jump scares. He tries to cover it up by teasing you, saying, “You screamed louder than me,” even if it’s not true.

Despite his gruff exterior, Nam Gyu has a soft side that shows in subtle ways. He buys you a souvenir without you asking and pretends it’s no big deal, even though he clearly put thought into it.

He’s not openly affectionate in public, but he’ll hold your hand or casually drape his arm around you, acting like it’s no big deal. If you’re nervous about a ride or a crowd, he gently squeezes your hand to reassure you.

By the end of the day, he’s surprisingly relaxed and even admits he had fun (though he’ll never outright say it was because of you). As you leave the park, he mutters, “Maybe we can do this again… sometime.” It’s his way of saying he had a great time without losing his cool persona.

Thanos (Su-bong)

Su-bong is so excited about going to the amusement park with you. He insists on making it a surprise date and goes all out, even printing out the park map and planning an itinerary.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, running from ride to ride with boundless energy. You can barely keep up with him, but his laughter and enthusiasm are so infectious that you don’t mind.

He’s fearless when it comes to rides, always choosing the biggest, fastest, and scariest ones. He cheers loudly during roller coasters and even throws his hands up, encouraging you to do the same.

On gentler rides, like the merry-go-round, he pretends to be bored but secretly loves the cheesy charm of it. He jokes about riding the biggest horse and asks you to take pictures of him posing dramatically.

Su-bong is super competitive at carnival games. He spends way too much money trying to win a stuffed animal for you, refusing to give up until he succeeds. When he finally wins, he acts smug and says, “Told you I’d get it for you.”

He also challenges you to silly games, like who can eat the most cotton candy or who screams the loudest on a ride. His laughter is constant, and his playful attitude makes the day unforgettable.

Despite all the chaos, Su-bong has a surprisingly romantic side. He insists on taking cute selfies together, making silly faces and then snapping one where you’re both smiling genuinely.

He surprises you by buying matching accessories, like hats or bracelets, and proudly wears his, claiming it’s a “symbol of our teamwork.”

At the end of the day, he takes you to a quiet spot to watch the fireworks. For once, he’s uncharacteristically quiet, wrapping his arms around you and whispering, “Thanks for making today so amazing. You’re the best part of any adventure.”

[cupidbedsy]

𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘂𝗽 ; 𝘫𝘩86, 𝘭𝘩43, 𝘲𝘩43, 𝘵𝘻11, 𝘤𝘤22 ୨୧

➪ summary: after being stood up, y/n was planning on just spending her night crying on the curb before she went home. that was until five boys showed up and took her out.

➪ warnings: reader gets stood up, mentions of cheating, trevor is such a flirt, reader has chemistry with all five of them, definitely typos/not proofread

➪ word count: 5.3k

➪ file type: new fic

➪ sunny's notes: the first fic since i've left. guys you have no idea how in love i am with this. i got this idea based on a tiktok (at least the first part was, the fair part was all me) but i love this so so so much and i hope you guys do too. okay two things that i am willing to do with this, write and give you guys the letters each of them write and/or a part two where she gets together with one of them (who, you let me know)

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

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She hadn't meant to end up on the curb, mascara streaking down her cheeks as the city buzzed around her, but here she was, wishing she'd never agreed to the date in the first place. She shoved her phone roughly into the pocket of her jacket, curling herself into it further. She turned her attention to the cracks in the sidewalk, tracing the lines and picking at the grass that grew out of some of them. 

When she got bored of that she wrapped her arms around her knees and just buried her head into them, listening to the cars passing by and the distant music from the bar a couple of buildings down. She could hear muffled laughter and talking drawing closer but she was too distracted to care. 

Meanwhile, the group of guys was walking down the sidewalk laughing about a joke one of them had said. They had just been wandering around trying to figure out what they should do that night. It was Luke who spotted the girl first, he paused once his gaze landed on her. At first he thought nothing of it, merely shrugged it off as just someone who was drunk way too early into the night. 

But as the group neared closer, he could hear the soft sniffles and immediately reached his hand out to stop Jack, who was walking beside him, “What?”

Jack raised his eyebrow as he followed Luke’s gaze to where the girl was sitting. He looked back at his younger brother and then back at the girl, “What is it?”

“She’s crying, dumbass.”

The conversation halted the other three’s movements, their laughter slowly fading. They made their way back over to the two, making a little huddle as they discussed what they should do, “Should we do something?”

Quinn crossed his arms, slightly worried about the girl even if she was just a stranger. He listened to the others talk before walking up to her, ignoring the group’s sounds of protests, “Hey.”

The girl jumped slightly, rushing to wipe the tears from her face as she looked up at him, “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

She looked back down, eyes fixed on her sweater covered hands, before she mumbled, “I’m fine.” She picked at the loose strings coming from the edge of the sleeves, oblivious to the looks and mouthed words the boys were exchanging. 

When minutes had passed she finally looked back up to see the five now completely surrounding her. She could tell they had been planning on going out somewhere, probably having a lot more fun then she would’ve had even if her date had shown up. A few of them sent her an awkward smile while the one she had talked to and one of the taller ones sent her genuine ones. 

“We didn’t mean to bother you,” Luke said, “We were just wondering if you were okay.”

Y/n nodded, “I’m fine… just a bad night, I guess.”

Trevor raised his eyebrows, “Just a bad night?” Jack hit him in the stomach and smiled at the girl apologetically, “Sorry about him.”

She cracked a small smile, the first one since she arrived at the shitty bar two hours ago. Cole took this as an invitation to offer what they had been talking about earlier, “We were going to go get some pizza, do you want to come with?”

She moved her eyes to each one, all of them now having a smile on their face, a sincere one. She blinked, slightly surprised at how willing they were to offer her to come with, “I don’t want to ruin your night…”

“You wouldn’t be ruining anything,” Trevor chimed in, “We were just figuring out what to do anyway, no plans whatsoever.”

She hesitated, still unsure, but as she looked up at them she  couldn’t deny that going to get pizza with five random guys would be better than sitting on the curb alone in the cold. She nodded and whispered, “Okay. Pizza sounds good.”

Luke flashed a grin, holding his hand out to her, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

She took his hand, using it as an aid to stand up. The four immediately fell into step beside them, making small talk with y/n as they made their way down the street. Luke never strayed far from her, occasionally tightening the grip he still had on her hand. 

“What’s your favorite kind of pizza?” Cole stepped closer to her, leaving Jack behind to continue talking to Quinn. 

She shrugged at first before speaking softly, “Just cheese.”

Trevor came up behind her too, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he pushed Luke out of the way, “Plain cheese. My kind of girl.”

She laughed at his comment, catching her footing as Trevor leaned on her. They all continued their walk to the pizza place, stepping in and immediately being hit with the smell of pizza. THey found a table near the back and sat down, placing their drink order with the waiter that came by. 

“So, what had you sitting on the curb crying?”

She tensed slightly, not sure if she should actually tell them but she looked at all of their gazes and noticed how genuine all of them looked so she spoke up, “I was supposed to go on a date tonight. But he stood me up.”

They all collectively scoffed, “What an ass?”

“He doesn’t know what he was missing out on.”

She laughed, “You guys don’t even know me.”

“So? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re a good person.”

Quinn, who had noticed the sadness still lingering in her eyes, inserted himself into the conversation, “I’m assuming that’s not it?”

She smiled sadly, “It would’ve been my first date in a month… since my ex cheated on me.”

The five of them stared at her with wide eyes, “No fucking way.”

“Yep.” Before anyone got a chance to say something, the waiter came around and handed out their drinks before taking their pizza order. 

The waiter walked away and she immediately said something before they could, “So what about you? Who are the five guys that mysteriously decided to take me under their wing for the night?”

“Well I’m Jack, this is my older brother Quinn and my younger brother Luke. And these are my best friends Cole and Trevor.”

They all waved as Jack said their names, smiling awkwardly in return. They all slowly got to know each other, y/n finding out they all played hockey and which teams they played on. She got told many childhood stories, especially about the three brothers since they had known each other for the longest obviously. Eventually, they got their pizza and continued their conversation as they ate. 

When they were done they slowly headed out the door, paying for their meal beforehand. They all stood outside the pizza place and exchanged glances with one another, “So now what?”

“Well, I should probably head home…”

“Nonsense!” Jack screamed, “Come on let’s go do something. You still need some cheering up.”

“Thank you but I don’t want to impose more than I already have.”

They all shook their heads, “Nah, come on. Let’s go to the fair.”

She was hesitant once again but she saw all of their pleading looks and gave in immediately, “Alright fine. Let’s go.”

The five of them cheered and immediately took off down the street, y/n’s laughter filling their ears.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

They six arrived at the fair, y/n looking around in awe. It had been a while since she’d been to a fair or carnival, the bright lights overwhelming her in the slightest. She followed behind the guys, not knowing where exactly she, or they, were heading. She watched from behind them as they hit each other playfully and laughed before Cole fell behind and walked alongside her, “Hey.”

“Hi.” She looked up at him and furrowed her eyebrows, “What’s up?”

“How much do you like rides?”

“Depends on which one.”

“Ferris wheel, swings, tilt-a-whirl.”

“Ferris wheel it is.”

Cole called out to his friends, “Hey! We’re going on the ferris wheel. We’ll meet up with you later.”

The other four waved him off and y/n smiled at him, “Lead the way Caufield.”

Cole practically dragged her in the direction of the ride, hearing her laugh behind him. She squealed as she almost ran into people, yelling out apologies as they passed by. He never let up, continuing his fast paced walk, or run as y/n called it, through the crowds. She told him to slow down multiple times and even then he would only slow his pace in the slightest.

Once they finally arrived there, she panted, “Jeez. Are you trying to kill me?”

“No! I was just really excited. Now come on before the lines get too long.” She nodded and continued her pursuit after him, managing to get in line before the crowd started to gather. 

Cole grinned at her as they stood in line and y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. Cole looked at her and his grin turned crooked, “What?”

“Has anyone told you how contagious your energy is?”

He shrugged, “Sometimes.”

The two continued to stand in silence, y/n gazing around at the multitude of booths that surrounded her. Some were selling food, deep fried twinkies or churros, she made a mental note to come back later to satisfy her sweet tooth. Others were selling trinkets or shirts or bracelets. She looked around at all the people, some little kids bouncing up and down with happiness as they held their parents hands, a group of teens who were taking pictures on a polaroid camera, and a couple who were holding hands and wearing matching t-shirts. Her smile quickly faded from her face and turned into a frown.

Cole noticed the sudden change in her demeanor and he didn’t let it last long, “So, you’ve ever been on a ferris wheel.”

She looked back at him, smiling softly, “Yeah, a few times, but it’s been a while. I forgot how much fun fairs were, I used to go as a kid with my family.”

“They’re the best, especially at night when you reach the top and can see almost the whole fair from up there. Magic or something.”

“Magic huh?” A teasing smile played on her lips as she nudged him. 

“Hey! Don’t judge me. It’s true.”

She just continued to smile as she faced forward, watching as the line continued to move quicker and quicker. Before she knew it, it was her and Cole’s turn to get on, the two of them quickly sitting in their seats and watching as the worker closed the cabin door. It was just Cole and y/n  in there, sitting across from one another. 

“What’s your favorite part?” She looked over at him with curious eyes.

He smiled once more before answering, “When you get to the top and are lucky enough that that’s where it stops you.”

She nodded in agreement before looking out the booth, “That’s my favorite part too.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as the wheel took them around twice before finally stopping at the top. Her breath hitched as they stopped, not expecting it in the slightest. She couldn’t help but think back to Cole’s words earlier, it was truly magical. Every noise seemed to fall deaf on her ears as she gazed out at the lights shining brightly, the mass of people running around below her. 

“I told you.”

She hummed as she looked over at him, “Yeah you did. And for the record I never said you were wrong.”

A few moments passed before she spoke again, “Thank you… for this, for tonight.”

“No need to thank me, I’m glad we ran into you.”

That’s when the ride started to move again, bringing the two of them back to the ground. The ride worker smiled at them once more as they climbed out and waved goodbye before helping the next group of people in the car. Cole and y/n laughed as they stumbled down the road, his hand brushing up against hers. The two blushed in unison, looking down before continuing to walk down the street. 

“Want to go find the others?” Y/n nodded but slowed her pace in the slightest, “But let’s take our time, hm? We’re not in any rush are we?”

Cole grinned again, “Not one bit.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When they finally found the group of them, they were in the part of the fair that hosted a majority of the carnival games. Jack swung an arm around her, “Well look who’s back. The girl of the hour!”

She blushed again as everyone’s gaze fell upon her, “Hi.”

“So how was the ferris wheel?” Trevor teased as he took a sip of his drink, his raised eyebrows still visible from behind the cup.

“Good.”

“Mhm, what y/n said.” He glared slightly at Trevor but kept his cool for the most part. 

“Haven’t been on a ferris wheel in a while, it was fun.”

“I bet,” Trevor mumbled again and received a smack on the head from Quinn. 

“So, what do you guys want to do next?” Luke interrupted, slightly ticked off from both Trevor’s antics and the blush that was on Cole and y/n’s face. 

They all looked at the girl’s face as her eyes wandered up and down the street awaiting her decision. Her gaze finally landed back on them before she spoke, “Who’s good at games?”

Four of the five of them stepped back immediately at her words leaving Luke the only one standing, “I guess that’s me.”

She took ahold of his hand and dragged him down the way to one of the games, Luke only able to send a wave quickly as he stumbled after her. He watched as she talked animatedly about the carnival games, something along the lines of never being able to win one. Something clicked in his brain and he knew he wanted to win something for her. 

They finally reached one of the booths, the two of them coming to a stop immediately, “Do you think you can win?”

She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, “I’ve been trying since I was a kid.”

He nodded, a small part of him knowing there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to but he sure as hell was determined to win. She watched as he stepped up to the worker, handing her a few bucks before picking up the miniature basketballs. 

One after another he missed but his confidence never waivered even as he continued to hand the worker money. After the third try, y/n stepped up and placed her hand on his arm, “Come on, Luke. It’s useless at this point.”

“One more. I promise.”

She relented and allowed him to hand the worker more money before picking the basketballs up again. This time, all the ones he threw made it into the wooden baskets and he cheered before bringing her into a hug and pointing up at the prizes, “Which one do you want?”

She smiled up at him, “The purple cow. Please.”

The worker nodded and took it down before handing it to the girl who beamed as she took it into her arms, “Finally. After 18 plus years.”

He laughed at her, watching as she played with the stuffed animal’s floppy ears, “You know I don’t think cows are supposed to have floppy ears.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she immediately found comfort in the gesture, “Whatever, it’s cute.”

Luke looked down at her and smiled softly, “Yeah, sure is.”

Oblivious to Luke’s gaze and true meaning of his words, she spoke, “C’mon let’s go show everyone what you won me. My hero.”

He chuckled again before leading her back to the group but going as slow as possible to not have to completely leave her side too early. She looked back up at him with a playful smirk, “So Luke, is this your secret talent? Winning impossible carnival games?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Not this time. I think I just got lucky.”

“Lucky huh? Or maybe you’re just too stubborn to give up…” She urged.

He shrugged, “Maybe a little bit of both. But it was worth it to see you smile like that.”

A new blush rose to her cheeks and she changed her gaze to the ground, letting Luke guide her through the crowds, clutching the stuffed cow even closer to her.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

“Look what Luke won me!” She hopped over to the group of boys who snapped their heads to look at her. 

They nodded, less enthusiastic than the girl but still trying to make it seem like they were. Quinn was the first one, “How long did it take him?”

Luke rolled his eyes at his older brother, “Oh shut up.”

“I was just asking!”

Y/n shook her head at the banter and stepped away as they continued to argue back and forth. She ended up next to Jack who immediately took notice that she was now by his side, “Hey there.”

“Hi.”

For a while they didn’t say anything, just watching the fight between Luke and Quinn. Then y/n nudged his side and whispered in his ear, “Fried Twinkie?”

He nodded and grinned walking away with her towards the food. The two made their way down, a lot of the crowd had dispersed to the shows now that they had started. There was a small line forming outside of the food truck that sold the fried twinkies, so the two just stood and made small talk as they waited, “So… fried twinkies, huh? Your go-to carnival snack?”

“Yep, always has been. It’s a classic, too. I’ve been eyeing them since I got to the ferris wheel with Cole.”

“Always has been? How many times have you been?”

They moved up with the line and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts, “I used to go all the time with my family when we were kids, but when my siblings grew up and started relenting ‘family quality time’ we just stopped kind of going.”

Jack nodded, “Yeah, I feel that. I mean once we all started to get more serious about hockey we all just kind of forgot to do stuff like that, or at least it was hard to go out without people recognizing us.”

They finally reached the front of the line, the vendor smiling at them happily as he rang up the two fried twinkies. Y/n watched as Jack swiped his card, grateful that the boys had been basically spoiling her since they picked her up on the side of the street. It was hard to believe that this all happened because someone stood her up but she couldn’t find it in herself to care at this point. 

She jumped slightly when she noticed Jack’s hand wave in front of her face, “Lost you there for a sec. Here is your fried Twinkie, m’lady.”

“Why thank you kind sir.” 

The two made their way over to one of the many benches that was set up on the grass. Y/n sat the purple cow on the table next to her, taking a bite of the treat, “I forgot how good these were.”

“I forgot how bad for you these are.”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you don’t indulge in something sweet once in a while, especially since it’s the summer.”

Jack smirked, “I never said that. I just meant that this is fucking greasy as hell.”

She only nodded, taking another bite. The two sat in silence as they ate and then she saw Jack’s hand reaching out, “What’re-”

His thumb landed on the corner of her mouth, wiping some of the filling of the twinkie away, “You got a little something there.”

Her cheeks flushed at the action, though she couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or flustered. Once they were done, they threw their trash away and y/n resumed her grasp on her cow, “Thanks for coming with me.”

“‘Course, I’m glad you’re having a great time. You deserve it, especially after… well you know.”

She frowned slightly and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Hey come on. No frowns anymore. The night isn’t over yet!”

“Oh, it’s not?”

“Nope! I heard there was this karaoke or dance thing happening soon, we’re definitely going. Let’s go find the guys.”

She lagged at his words and ran after him.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The two ran up to the group, Jack practically crashing into Cole, “Whoops sorry.”

Cole shoved him back and y/n laughed at the interaction, “Alright so what’s this I hear about dancing?”

“Well we were going to go to karaoke, but someone said no.”

Eyes turned to Luke who shrugged innocently, “What? I don’t really want to get on stage and sing in front of a bunch of people.”

“Buzzkill. But there’s a band performing right now so we figured we’d go check that out.”

Y/n nodded, “Akright.”

The six of them made their way through the fair, walking to one of the many stages they had there. Y/n reached for the closest hand, which happened to be Quinn’s, scared of getting lost in the crowds. Quinn looked down at her and smiled gently, “Nervous?”

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed.”

He squeezed her hand, “Well I got you.”

A pink tint covered her cheeks for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. They navigated their way close to the middle of the group, nodding their heads along to the beat of whatever song the band was playing. 

As they settled into the middle of the crowd, the energy of the live music began to seep into Y/N’s bones. The band was playing an upbeat, catchy tune that had the entire audience swaying and moving along to the rhythm. Y/n finally let herself relax into the swing of the crowd.

Quinn, still holding her hand, leaned down to be heard over the music. “Feeling better?”

She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Yeah, thanks. This is actually pretty fun.”

“Good,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

As the band transitioned into a slower, more melodic song, Y/N noticed that couples around them started to pair off, swaying together in time with the music. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but before she could overthink it, Jack nudged her playfully.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said with a grin. “You can’t just stand there. Dance with us!”

Before she could respond, Jack took her other hand, spinning her around playfully before pulling her into a gentle sway. Quinn didn’t let go of her other hand, so she found herself dancing between the two of them, feeling a bit like she was in a scene from a movie.

“See? Not so bad, right?” Jack said, his voice light and teasing.

“Not bad at all,” she agreed, laughing as they continued to sway together.

Cole, Trevor, and Luke were nearby, each of them doing their own version of dancing, Trevor of course going completely against the rhythm of the music. As the song progressed, Jack eventually stepped back, letting Quinn take over fully. Y/N looked up at him, their eyes meeting in a way that made her heart flutter. The earlier awkwardness she’d felt was gone, replaced by a sense of comfort.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” she commented, trying to keep the conversation light even as her heart raced.

Quinn chuckled, his hand still holding hers as they moved together to the music. “Thanks. I guess all those weddings and family events paid off.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the summer night air. “Well, you all are definitely making this night unforgettable.”

Quinn’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the crowd. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

“That is the second time someone has said that to me tonight.”

“Oh really?” Quinn’s eyes shined with amusement, “I guess that means it’s true.”

As the song came to an end, they slowly stopped swaying, neither of them eager to let go. But the upbeat music quickly returned, and the moment passed, replaced by the lively energy of the fair.

Jack reappeared, playfully pulling Y/N away from Quinn with a grin. “Alright, enough of the slow stuff. Let’s see if you can keep up with me!”

She laughed, letting him drag her back into the group where they all started dancing together, the worries of the earlier part of the night completely forgotten. They spent the next hour losing themselves in the music, joking around, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the band announced their final song, Y/N was out of breath, her cheeks flushed from both the exertion and the pure joy she felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun, or felt this free. And as the music wound down, the crowd began to disperse, yet the six of them had stayed together, watching everyone push their way out to the entrance of the fair.

Y/n all of a sudden felt heavy and she could feel herself growing increasingly tired. Trevor was the first to notice this, immediately taking a position by her side and letting her lay against him, “Someone’s getting tired.” His voice was light and teasing as he looked down at her.

She mumbled something incoherently, digging her face into the boy’s shoulder. The five of them laughed at her before agreeing to head back to the car. Trevor and Quinn took the main job of helping her walk back to the parking lot, all of them equally as tired as the girl, their feet aching. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When they reached the car, Luke climbed into the back seat and watched as Trevor and Quinn helped the girl into the middle row. Trevor sat in the middle, Y/n on his left and Cole on his right, as Quinn hopped into the driver’s seat with Jack in the passenger side. 

Trevor shook her slightly, trying to get her to wake enough so she could tell them where she lived or where to drop her off. Y/n blinked her eyes open slowly, looking up at him, “Hm?”

“Gotta tell us where to take you, pretty girl.”

“Wanna sleep.”

Trevor chuckled, “I know you do and you can once you tell us where you live.” 

He slid a phone into her hands and she slowly typed out her address into the search bar of the maps before handing it back to him. He thanked her and handed the phone to Jack who then plugged the phone into one of the charging cords, Siri’s voice making its way to everyone’s ears through the speakers. 

Y/n resummed her position laying against Trevor. She shivered slightly, the drastic temperature change affecting her greatly. Trevor let a smile tug at his lips as he reached into the backseat where Luke was to place it around her. She whispered a ‘thanks’ before resuming her previous action, curling into his side.

Although she was tired, her mind didn’t seem to allow her to sleep so she opened her eyes and tried to find something to focus on. Her gaze landed upon Trevor’s arm, the one littered with tattoos. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized by them and she let her eyes trace up the length of his forearm to his bicep. 

Trevor could feel her stare and finally looked back over to her before speaking softly, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothin.”

“I can feel you looking, sweetheart.”

She blushed at the nickname although the only tell tale sign was whenever they would pass a street light that lit up her face. He chuckled at her shyness before nudging her again, “You can touch if you want princess. I don’t mind.”

Y/n looked up at him, “Really?”

He nodded, “Go ahead.”

She hesitated at first before letting her hand lay atop his arm, her fingers slowly beginning to trace the ink. She let the silence comfort her and slowly lull her to sleep to start with but then the question burned at the back of her mind, “Do they mean anything?”

“Yes and no, but mostly no. Just things I thought were cool I guess.”

She let out a soft murmur of amusement and continued the path of the shapes his arm had. Slowly she fell asleep and before she knew it they were pulling up to her apartment. Trevor had to be careful with maneuvering her but eventually he was able to pick her up and carry her up the stairs. 

As respectful as Luke could, he reached into her pocket to pull out her keys and unlocked the door. Quinn, Jack, Cole and Luke trailed behind Trevor, all of them finding their way to her bedroom. The five exchanged looks as they stood watching her, “Should we leave or note or something?”

“Probably. I don’t know how much she’s going to remember when she wakes up.”

The others nodded in agreement and slowly filled out of her bedroom but not before kissing her softly on the head and making sure the covers surrounded her entirely and that the curtains in her room were closed all the way. 

They reached the kitchen and searched for pieces of paper, each of them writing their own note with their name and phone number scribbled underneath it. It wasn’t the neatest thing they ever wrote, especially considering that it was mostly dark inside the apartment. Soon after they all left, making sure the lock was secure before walking back to the car and driving away.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

In the morning, y/n woke up groaning slightly. She couldn’t remember what had happened last night except for the fact that she had been stood up. She sat up in bed and looked down at her arms which were clad in a sweatshirt she didn’t recognize. Slowly the memories of the previous night slowly came back to her and she couldn’t help the smile that graced her face. 

She got out of bed and walked to the kitchen, now noticing that she didn’t know if she would ever see the five again. That was until she noticed the five pieces of paper laid out on her kitchen counter, all in different handwriting. 

She made her way over to the counter, sitting at one of the chairs she had there and taking her time reading each note individually. The smile was predominantly stuck to her face as she typed each number into her phone, creating contacts for each of them. 

Finally, she made a group chat with all of them before sending a text, “Hey, this is y/n. Thank you all for last night, it meant a lot to me. I hope it wasn’t just a one time thing, I would enjoy seeing you all again.”

And within minutes of her sending the text, all of them had hearted her message and sent her each a message.

𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗝𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗦 + 𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗦 + 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@blakesbearsblog @toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @prettyjoseph @nicole01-23 @auriesphantom @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @quinnylouhughesx43 @petite-potato4 @thehuggybearslover @absolutelyhugh3s @kei943 @dyslecticdutchman @this-ass-is-eikonic

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[mrpenguinpants]

Green Slumber

— "Ah, look! Is Alhaitham taking a nap?" "Shh...You're too loud, Paimon." "Th-That's not true…Paimon was definitely whispering-wait, who is that beside him?"

— Alhaitham

Ayato Ver: Pale Blue Slumber Traveller & Paimon lines are taken from the official Genshin Twitter post. [Masterlist]

Congrats Alhaitham, your birthday postpones the fic where I tear you apart for scamming me. I usually don't write birthday fics but pretty art. Can you tell I'm not used to writing second pov and rushed again :)) I don't know how to end fics.

"Ah, look! Is Alhaitham taking a nap?"

Lumine looks in the direction of Paimon's voice, her floating companion peeking through a room with a giddy face. No doubt hatching some sort of plan to get back at the scribe for his words during their quest to rescue Lesser Lord Kusanali. On one hand, she should probably scold Paimon for immediately jumping to payback since the reason both of them are here is to wish the man a happy birthday before departing to the next region. But on the other hand...

“Shh…You’re too loud Paimon,” Lumine whispers as she tip-toes towards the door and gently pushes it open further. She's pointedly ignoring the face Paimon is throwing her for acting just as bad as she is. If anyone asks, she'll make an excuse that she was just being a polite guest and if Alhaitham was sleeping, she would excuse herself quietly. In no way is it her curiosity to see the ever-serious Alhaitham in any mode that's defenseless and relaxed. So with Paimon’s head hovering above hers, they both poke their heads into the room. Alhaitham doesn’t look any different from the last time they met, although asleep, he looks far less intimidating. He’s leaned back in the wooden chair, arm propped up to hold his lolling head in place. Calculating amber and teal eyes are closed as his chest falls up and down slowly with each breath while the gentle sun paints him in warm yellows and soothing whites. If Lumine had never met Alhaitham before, she would have thought he may have been the Dendro archon with how serene the scene itself is. Something that almost makes her want to reach out and touch him just to check if he’s real or not.

"Th-That's not true…Paimon was definitely whispering-wait, who is that beside him?" Paimon’s voice tapers off at the end, eyes alight with confusion. Lumine tears her eyes away from Alhaitham to look at where Paimon is pointing. Seated on the desk right in front of Alhaitham’s sleeping figure, a stranger hums softly with their ankles locked as they swing their legs ideally in the air. In their hands appears to be the beige book Alhaitham usually carries around, the one about physics and motion if she remembers correctly. Now that she’s looking - she can't believe she missed an entire person because she got distracted by the image of a sleeping Alhaitham - the stranger looks far more comfortable in the room than she is. Maybe they're another roommate? Although Alhaitham doesn't seem like the type to have an extensive list of friends and she's positive she's met most if not all of the people Alhaitham could call close enough to have them in his home. She shares a look with Paimon who returns it with a shrug of the shoulders. Neither one of them has ever seen this mysterious person before.

"Haitham, this section here about..." the stranger's voice brings blue and yellow eyes back to the room. Lumine watches intrigued as the stranger finally looks up from the book to see Alhaitham fast asleep. A soft sigh escapes their lips as they close the book, shoulders dropping into something more relaxed, and they just sit and look at the man. They have the same look in their eye but instead, their hand slowly reaches out until their fingertips meet the tips of soft silver hair. Pushing strands away from his face before waltzing down to caress his cheek. It's an intimate touch and Lumine isn't sure whether she should be here interrupting the moment. The stranger surely seems to be having fun as they return to playing with silver strands. Through it all, Alhaitham remains asleep yet, his body seems to lean into the touch naturally. As if these practiced movements have happened before.

Oh. Oh, she understands now.

“Hey, Paimon…” Lumine starts as she slowly picks herself off the floor as quietly as possible lest she disturbs the peace. "We should leave."

"Huh? But why? We've never seen this person before right? What if they're one of those bad guys that are after Alhaitham because he's the acting grand sage!" Paimon adamantly nods, small hands clutched into little fists. It would be cute if it weren't for the fact that Paimon has no sense of volume. Before Lumine can reach out and press her palm against Paimon's mouth to stop her from shouting again, a light chuckle rings out. They both freeze in place, flicking their heads back inside the room.

"You know...if you talk any louder you will actually wake him up," the stranger drops their hand as they turn to face the duo. There's mirth dancing in their eyes and Lumine has enough decency to look embarrassed at getting caught red-handed. Paimon on the other hand has no such reservations.

"Ah, sorry! We didn't mean to! Wait-Hey! Don't turn this on Paimon. Who are you and what are you doing in Alhaitham's house?!" Paimon stomps her feet in the air, crossing her arms as she pouts at the stranger. Her frown further increased by the stranger laughing harder.

"I basically live here. There's no need to be so on edge. I doubt Haitham could sleep so easily if a stranger was in his home," they say, gesturing to the still peacefully unaware scribe who hasn't moved a muscle since they arrived.

"Ohh, so you're like that blond guy from before! Ka-Ka something? But wait, why were you touc-"

"Ahem, sorry for barging in. We just wanted to say Happy Birthday to Alhaitham. We'll visit again some other time when he's awake," Lumine cuts Paimon off, successfully managing to slap her hand against Paimon's mouth. She can feel the back of her ears turning red as she bows and practically sprints away and out of the house. She'll just write a note to the scribe instead.

+

You blink a few times before chuckling again. Wow, that girl sure can run fast. You've heard stories about the Traveller and this "Paimon" character, patiently waiting for your turn to stumble into their journey. Although you wish you had met them with better first impressions, they seem like a lively bunch. Your eyes slide over back onto the sleeping figure in front of you, and there's a slight nudge of his lips. The smallest of smiles threaten to burst before it placates into something more neutral. A small detail that hasn't escaped you.

"I know you're awake Alhaitham," you state blankly, your gentle hands reaching back up before suddenly turning harsh and tugging at his cheek. Pulling the skin so he has a lopsided smile. True to your words, teal and amber eyes open without an ounce of shame. "Weren't those your friends? Don't be rude and ignore them when they came all this way to say happy birthday."

He offers a half-hearted shrug before the hand supporting his head moves to take your fingers still tugging at his cheek. Intertwining them together until his face is free. His smile is still small but his eyes shine with fondness that you're forced to look away. Sometimes you forget just how pretty Alhaitham can be.

"Weren't you the one that said I should indulge on my special day? Is it so wrong that I want to spend it with you and you alone?" He adds to his point by brushing his lips against your fingertips before pressing a kiss to your palm. There's a small smile as he extends his other hand out, eyes taking in how pink your ears become. "So let's indulge."

“For such a pretty face, you sure are…” you trail off but you take his hand and let him move you onto his lap. It's unfair how fast he can turn the tables on you and how easily you let him do so. It was fun being able to poke and prod the man to your heart's content since he had to hold the disguise of being asleep, even if you do feel a bit bad that the Traveller had to postpone their greeting, but now it's his hands that roam over your body. Slipping under your - his - shirt and rubbing small circles into your hip before growing bored and moving onto another patch of untouched skin until there's nothing left to take. Lip hungry as he kisses away your words because every breath that isn't mixed with his is worthless. Perhaps it's a blessing that you need to take a proper breath because you're sure that Alhaitham would keep taking until there's nothing left. Disregarding how tightly your hands cling to him and refuse to let him stray too far away.

"Greedy."

"Pot meet kettle."

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@genshins1mpact @creatorofstars @xoneaboveallx @timmyitsmeeee @raingoesboomboom @duhsies @thegayrubberducky @isa-solasun @afoxesgreed @yuuki4646 @angel-luv-04 @inlovewithwaffles @maddymints09 @moonssandstars @ieathairs @crypticbibliophile @cumbermovels @totallynotaraidensimp

[nickfowlerrr]

once more with feeling

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!actress!reader (reader is not a student)

warnings: mdni. no smut. flirting. i’d label this as soft horny if that were a thing lol. edward/guy moratz makes a short appearance. not much else really but self-indulgence at its finest. reader is probably minimum twenty five but you can imagine whatever age 21 and up you'd like and it should read alright.

words: 5185

notes: this was originally going to be a professor bucky x reader fic but then i got the idea for auditioning reader and then i thought oh! what if i wrote for my latest obsession - edward/guy! so then it was gonna be guy x actress reader but then i realized i kept picturing bucky and i’ve missed writing for him so then it changed again into professor bucky but now with actress reader and that’s where i landed with it even though i think this would work so well with guy as our guy and truth be told upon rereading myself i did start to picture him instead of bucky ha but ANYWAY this is buckys fic but if you wanna picture guy that works pretty well too 🤭 writing this was a nice distraction from the craziness of life lately and i hope you enjoy it. also just to say it - if you haven’t had the chance to watch a different man yet, you absolutely should. it’s great.

pls lmk your thoughts! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and more than welcome. 🩵

Goosebumps have risen all over your skin as you sit in the uncomfortable auditorium seat. Your legs are freezing thanks to the dress you don; despite its length, the fabric doesn’t provide much warmth and you can’t help but shake just a touch as another chill comes over you. You wrap your arms as tightly as you can around yourself but it too does little to help. The shrug cropped cardigan keeps your arms covered but the cold still chills - even inside the walls of this classroom auditorium.

This was a stupid idea, you accept far too late.

Granted, your planned outfit originally saw you in lined leggings to help fight the cold of the season, but after your little trip down the stairs on your way here - despite having held the skirt of the dress up to avoid such a fall to begin with! - you decided to toss the ripped and coffee soaked leggings and keep on instead of doing what the universe clearly was screaming at you to do: Go back to your apartment, take those god forsaken heeled shoes off, and put on something simpler. You were trying too hard.

Maybe you were. But you couldn’t care. You needed this. And when do you get to wear a dress like this on the daily? It fits the mood and works for the role without being a costume. You may feel a little uncomfortable, you don’t wear dresses out often, but you don’t think you’ve really made the wrong choice.

You were last on the audition sign in sheet so thankfully no one would be left to watch you the way you’d just studied the twelve other girls reading for this role.

They all dressed casually, had book bags with them, it was obvious they all attended this school. And here you were! A college dropout, overdressed in comparison, and clearly out of place.

Ah, you’re getting too in your head again. Always looking for a reason why something won’t go your way. But you’ve been working on that, and calling yourself out seems to help.

You take a deep breath as the last girl clears the stage and the casting table speaks amongst themselves.

You haven’t been able to see any of their faces, only the backs of their heads. You aren’t sure if there are students or faculty at the table with them but you figure it doesn’t really matter.

The casting call said all were welcome to audition - student or not. The location was only at the college because of renovations on the theatre in the city.

…It did say that, right? You’re not auditioning for a college show, right?

Your heart begins to pick up speed as you worry. Did you read it wrong? Were you making things up? You scramble for your phone and as you pull up the email the city theatre sent out last week, your name is called.

You don’t have the chance to reread it before you shut your phone off and tuck it away in your bag, placing it on your seat as you stand. You take a breath as you smile as confidently and friendly as you can and make your way down to the stage.

“That’s me,” you say as they watch you.

Finally you’re able to see their faces and as you make eye contact with each of them you can feel them sizing you up. Three people sit at the folding table before the stage and one man sits a bit further back in the second row of auditorium seats. He has yet to look up from his book and you realize you hadn’t noticed him at all earlier.

A younger man at the casting table, no more than 30 if you’d had to guess, tilts his head as he watches you ascend the few steps to the stage.

“So,” he states your name again, “do you attend classes here?”

“No,” you answer with a small shake of your head, “no I’m not a student.” You work to maintain your easy smile as you feel all eyes on you.

The man nods and turns to speak to the man still sitting and reading behind him. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he gets his attention finally, “no pressure to stay. All the students have been seen, you’re free to go. This is the last audition for the day then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Until tomorrow when you’ll take over my auditorium again,” he rumbles lowly as he stares at the man who is still looking at him.

You swallow hard as you do the same. His eyes are bright despite his obvious annoyance, his dark hair pushed back as he tries to keep it out of his face, only a couple silver strands shining through the dark chestnut brown; the stubble that covers his jaw adds to his air of gruffness - the spot of gray near his chin adding to his appeal. He’s tall, you gather as your eyes move down his body, his long legs. He wears dark slacks and a baby blue button up dress shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms and the top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, giving just a hint at his chest hair and the chain that hangs around his neck.

You realize you’re staring as you hear the voice of the younger man responding to Mr. Barnes, but you don’t hear what he’s saying as you force yourself to look away. Your eyes blink up and you’re caught. His blue eyes are on you, brows furrowed and his expression unreadable. You quickly look away and pretend you weren’t doing a thing as you wait for them to give you the go ahead.

Some more words are exchanged as they seem to try and appease the man whose classroom they are in. You’re not entirely paying attention to the conversation as you run your lines in your head for the millionth time.

You know the words. You know the part. You’re not worried, necessarily. But you haven’t booked a single thing in the past eight months and to say that hasn’t shaken your confidence in yourself even just a little bit would be a lie. But you’re getting back to your roots. You’ve missed the theatre. It was and will forever be your first love. This is your first stage audition in a while though, and your first experience with this theatre. Since moving to the city, you swore you’d audition for one of their shows but just never got around to it as your focus shifted to film. This is your time now. Is it going exactly how you’d envisioned it’d go? Well, you’re standing in a university campus auditorium instead of the stage at the Fervent Fires Theatre to audition, so, no. But that’s okay! You have a good feeling about this. And as you stand here, you feel more and more relaxed. It’s kind of bringing you back to your high school days - the annoyed teacher having to share the auditorium with the annoying theatre people. It’s funny.

And after seeing the other girls audition you really don’t feel too stressed. Most of them were late teens auditioning for Elmire. Despite the fact you played her in your late teens, too, that was simply because the production was full of other teens and young adults. You’re definitely more of the right fit even now. You’ve seen some of the theatre's productions before and who and how they tend to cast. Granted this is second day auditions and everyone else who has been seen might be in your league, but you won’t dwell on who you may be compared to - and you kind of needed the confidence boost today.

You take a breath and remind yourself you know what you’re doing. Whether you get a callback or not, just being on a stage again, acting in front of people again, you’ve needed this. It’s good.

You come back to yourself, out of your head and more at ease and hear Mr. Barnes as he speaks.

“And I appreciate being ‘free to go’ but I’m fine right where I am. Seeing as how this is my classroom, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just meant that if you wanted to go, you were free to, are free to, do, ya know, whatever you want. We were under the impression you were required to be here as a faculty member during student’s auditions, but, uhm, yes, of course. We aren’t trying to push you out or anything,” he smiles before nervously clearing his throat and turning back to face the table. He shuffles around the papers before him and you see him pull your headshot and resume to the front of his stack, grabbing his notes and pen before turning his gaze to you.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Their eyes are all on you. The casting table, and the man behind them. He’s set his book down next to him, has his hands folded in his lap as he sits back in his seat, casual and intent all at once, while his brilliant blue gaze is set right on you.

-

The audition is a blur, it goes by so fast. As you thank them for their time, you’re surprised when they offer you more information they hadn’t given out before.

“Callbacks will be next Tuesday and they’ll be at the actual theatre. We’ve been under construction all month but should be good to go next week. We appreciate you taking the time to come audition here, we know it’s a little out of the way in comparison.”

“Not a problem at all, it actually isn’t too far from me,” you smile.

“Good, well, keep a look out for an email with more details and…” the director on the end of the table looks up to you as if she’s catching herself from revealing a secret, then sighs, “ah, screw it, you’re definitely on the callback list,” she smiles, “we’ll see you there.”

“Amazing,” you breathe, “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you again, so much,” you can’t help your grin as you walk closer to the steps of the stage.

The casting table packs their things as you walk past them back to where you were sitting before. You’d left your bag and half drinken coffee so you make to go get it. As you pass the first few rows, you feel Barnes’ stare again, this time only fleeting as his name is called from the young man who spoke to him before.

“This table?”

“You can leave it,” he states, sounding bored.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us use the stage, we really do appreciate it.”

You don’t hear him reply as you hear the casting team leave out the door.

The realization you’re the last one left intruding on this man has you hurrying up.

Until you hear his voice again.

“You were good.”

You turn at the compliment, wide eyed as you see him coming closer up the steps. Your heart seems to skip a beat and you wonder what he’s doing until he bends down a few rows before you and picks up an empty coffee cup someone must have left earlier.

You’re caught a bit off guard but force your mouth to work after a second, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he stands back up straight. You watch as he tosses it easily into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs before he turns back to look at you again.

You were right. He’s tall, and somehow even more attractive than you’d originally thought now that you’re seeing him even closer.

“I’m no director, but from what I’ve seen yesterday and today, if I was casting, you’d be it.”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm despite how cold the auditorium still is, “that’s,” you laugh a little under your breath, “that’s really nice to hear, thank you.” You have to look down as his gaze is just a little too much for you right now. You don’t need to fall down another set of stairs today and if you let yourself get lost in those ocean blue eyes of his, you’re almost certain you will.

“You seem more shy off stage than you do on,” he comments, taking another step up the stairs, another step closer to you.

“Yeah,” you titter nervously, “um, I’m an actor, ‘m pretty good at faking it when I have to.”

He raises his brow at your unintentional innuendo and immediately you catch yourself. You feel like you’re on fire and you see something in his eyes, almost like he’s working himself up to reply as he takes the last step he needs to be on the same level as you.

“You fake it a lot?”

Your lips move as if you have words to speak but nothing comes out as he stares at you and you stare back.

God, he smells good. And he’s so tall. And muscular. And pretty.

You blink as you try to break yourself free from this trance.

Is he hitting on you? You don’t even know this man’s name and yet there’s a fluttering in your tummy at the way he’s eyeing you. His gaze roves down your body, over your soft curves that are accentuated by the corset dress hugging you. His tongue darts out as he wets his lips seemingly without thought and that familiar desire that’s been plaguing you the last six months since your breakup has you fidgeting where you stand. He’s so effortlessly hot and the thought of getting on your knees right here and now for him hits you out of nowhere and only burns you further. Wow, where did that come from?

You haven’t been with anyone since you ended things with Nick, and you may be horny, but you’re not desperate… Are you?

You swallow hard and extend your hand to him, offering him your name as you do. He smiles with a deft chuckle, looking from your hand back up to your eyes before he takes your hand in his, seeming to ease some tension in him you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe not tension, maybe anxiousness? But no, that couldn’t be it. His smile is so easy there’s no way the word confident wouldn’t be in your top choices to describe him.

“James,” he supplies as you shake his hand. His big, warm hand that you can’t help but imagine the weight of if he were to place it on your waist. He squeezes you just a bit and another wave of your sudden desire rolls through you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, sounding a lot more sultry than you ever intended. His lips quirk and he takes a second before he responds, again, you get the funny feeling he’s working himself up to say what he does.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks bluntly, waiting for your nod before he continues. “I saw you staring at me when you were on stage.”

Okay. Ha. Wow. You’re so hot you wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming off your cheeks. God, you could just explode from your mortification at his words. Is he really calling you out like this, right to your face? Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to say. You suck your lips in your nervousness as you inhale a breath through your nose, letting your lips go as you suck your teeth when you release them. You look down as your tongue runs along the edges of your teeth. A nervous habit when you’re at a loss for words as you let out a breathy titter at being caught and having it brought up.

You hear a light laugh from him before your breath is stilled when he gently touches your chin, his touch warm as he tilts your face up so you’re looking at him once again.

You’re stalled in a sort of awe as his eyes seem to twinkle at you.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he assures you, his voice smooth as silk, “I was staring back.”

The soft smirk on his lips lights you up as you unthinkingly wet your own. In any imagined scenario you would never have thought you’d be so receptive to a stranger coming on this strongly - so boldly and up front. But here you are. Receptive as hell. There’s something about him, about his approach, that has you even more attracted to him than you were at first glance…er, stare. His voice, his attitude, the way he’s looking at you. As if he knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going for it. As if the very thing he wants right now, is you.

“Your eyes alone are captivating, but there’s something else about you,” he muses, “you got on stage and it was like I couldn’t look away.”

You almost have to force yourself to take a breath before you can talk. “The dress,” you quip with a small shrug.

“The dress,” he looks down at your body once more, a funny fluttering setting your core alight under his gaze, “well it definitely helped. It’s nice,” he compliments, his hand reaching to touch the fabric and grazing your hip. At his touch his eyes flick up to gauge your reaction and, seeing what you’re sure is a dreamy like haze, he goes on. “Look, I have to teach a class here in half an hour so I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he says, a hint of an east coast accent slipping in and becoming clearer in his voice as he speaks, “I think you’re gorgeous. And I think you might think I’m not so bad myself,” he half smiles as his lips twitch. “I know this is forward,” his eyes meet yours once more, “and there’s no expectation here.”

Your brows raise despite yourself as you wait for him to go on. He licks his lips again and takes a step closer to you.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You inhale sharply as you pause, your lips parting with the breath.

Weirdly some far off part of you was kind of expecting that was where this was leading, but in the very same breath, you really were not expecting him to say that. Your mouth goes dry and your mind goes blank as you try and process his words. You know your immediate, no thought involved answer. But surely, this calls for some thought, doesn’t it?... It’s not like anonymous sex isn’t a thing, it’s just never been your thing. But you do have the rest of the day free and you’re riding on a kind of confidence high at the moment, and god is this man tempting.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares at you, studying you and waiting for your yes or no.

“You do this a lot?” you ask instead.

He breathes a soft chuckle, “Never, actually,” he shakes his head, “but I’ve been out of the game for a while, recently been told I need to put myself out there, and I guess I don’t really know how to be anything other than direct these days.”

“Hm,” you look into his bright eyes, a sincerity there you don’t find in people often these days, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Is that a yes?”

Fuck it, you think. You’ve been pushing past your normal comfort zones all day. What’s a little sex with a hot stranger? …Right? You’re seconds away from saying yes, how could you not, you egg yourself on, but you figure you should make this as clear as you can. Not that his answer has much chance of changing yours.

“Is this just sex? Or…” you trail off.

“At the very present moment,” he specifies, “just sex.”

You nod in easy understanding, readily taking it for what it is, but he continues on.

“And if you wanna leave it at that, we’ll leave it at that, but if you’re interested in dinner later tonight, too, I’d be glad to buy. Pick you up and everything.”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” you simper with a titter you can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhm,”

“Sex?”

You nod with a smirk as he closes the gap between your bodies.

“Right now?” he adds again, getting the same response as you smile against his lips when he leans in closer.

He kisses you. You’re immediately lost to him as his lips touch yours, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It’s surprisingly tentative, slow and soft at first, like he’s testing the waters between you. After a long moment, he decides to pull away, not too far, only parting for a split second. You're struck by the fleeting feeling of his lips being on yours, it steals your breath as you mindlessly lean into him immediately looking for more. Your eyes meet again, there’s a glimmer of shared recognition and you know he feels the same, and then his lips are on yours even more hotly. You’ve always thought people were dramatic when they spoke about having sparks with someone, that it wasn’t a real experience, just hyperbole… exaggeration, but you’re realizing now you just hadn’t ever experienced it before. That spark, that zing, it is real. It must be, because as crazy and sudden as it is, you think you have it here.

His hand comes to hold your head, keeping you close as he leads you. You might be embarrassed by the way you melt into him if you were thinking of anything other than how good his touch is and how perfect his lips seem to meld with yours.

You’re filled with a thrilling excitement you don’t know you can compare to anything you’ve felt before. This is new and nice and as the kiss deepens, your nerves turn from jittery butterflies in your belly to a smoldering desire that burns lower and lower. His firm body is pressed to your soft one and his free hand falls to the tail of your back, holding you closer and keeping you there against him before his hand snakes to your hip, wandering up your curves as he feels as much of you as he can. Your own hands are against his stomach as you chase his kiss, fingers fisting the fabric of his button down shirt.

James nips at your bottom lip and you give him entry without a pause, his tongue slipping in your mouth as he kisses you fervently, like something out of a movie. You’ve never been in a situation like this, and you can say with certainty you’ve never been kissed like this either.

You let your hands slide up his torso until you find the first button. As if you’ve done it a million times, you easily begin the tedious task of unbuttoning each one - though you take your time, not wanting to break any as you’re still caught in his hold, still lost in his kiss.

You hate having to break away but you need a breath and despite the loss of contact with your lips, James’ continues to travel along your skin. From your cheek to your jaw and down your neck as you angle yourself to allow him more access, all the while your fingers do their work and your breathing turns heavier. Once the buttons are undone you pull the tails of his shirt from his pants. His hands are still on you, feeling you as he kisses your delicate skin.

Your hands stabilize yourself by holding his sides as he yanks you closer to him still. He’s much thicker than he looked, you realize as you touch him. Your hands wander up his back, wanting to get his undertank off as soon as humanly possible so you can really feel the muscles there.

He brings an arm around your waist and his other hand glides down your back until he gets to your bottom, groaning in your neck as he squeezes you there.

“Buck?”

A loud voice breaks the trance the two of you have been under and causes you to jump as you hear the doors closing and footsteps coming around the side staircase, bringing a different man into view.

You’re startled, and James gallantly moves you just behind him despite your still fully clothed state. You’re still grateful though, you know you must look a little mussed, your cardigan falling down your arms and James’ undone shirt hardly producing any air of innocence about what was unfolding just moments ago.

“Oh, sorry,” the man starts with inquiring eyes, looking between the both of you. He’s just as tall as James and has eyes just as blue. He’s clean shaven, though and not as bulky. Still, they look like they could be brothers. “Professor?” he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

“She’s not a student, Guy,” James responds, annoyance clear as day in his voice. “I’m not Drysdale.”

“Right,” Guy says on a light, breathy laugh, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He seems uncomfortable at the mention. You see him as he eyes James’ still undone shirt.

“What do you need, Guy?” James asks firmly, getting his eyes back on him.

“It can wait,” he brushes off, “just wanted to say thanks for letting the theatre use the stage again, we appreciate it.” His eyes flick to you and he seems to make a connection. “Elmire?”

Your eyes meet his in surprise, “Um, yeah,” you nod with a small smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, arms crossed over your chest.

“Tartuffe,” he gestures to himself with a smile of his own. You suddenly recognize him and take a step forward.

“Wait, did I see you in Death of a Salesman the other month?”

“Yes,” he smiles even more sincerely now, “yes, it’s the year of the classics at the theatre,” he chuckles.

“Right, yeah, you were incredible. Really great performance,” you compliment him.

“Thank you very much. I heard good things just now about your audition, I’m assuming you’re -,”

James interrupts Guy by supplying your name himself, causing you both to look at him. You fight a smile at the sound of it on his lips.

“Well then,” Guy looks back toward you, clearing his throat a bit, “I will be seeing you at your callback,” he turns to James, “and I will be seeing you in the office later.”

He takes a step back, “It was nice to meet you, and thank you again, Bucky.”

The name catches your attention as Guy walks off and James turns back to face you.

He sighs as he looks at you, reaching for your hand which you allow him to take.

His touch is deceptively delicate and you can’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Bucky?” you question. He meets your gaze and gives a sheepish half smile.

“Nickname.”

You nod, “Ah. Makes sense,” you lilt, holding his eye. “Suits you.”

“You can call me Bucky if you’d like. Like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You huff a laugh, looking away. He continues on, “I’m sorry for that interruption, I uhm,” he let’s go of your hand and moves to start buttoning his shirt back up, “I think we’re gonna have to try this again later,” he pauses, glancing back to you, “if you’re still-,”

“I am,” you smile, cutting him off.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and then immediately takes another step closer to you.

His eyes are scrutinizing in the best way as he takes your face gently in his hands, your own coming to hold his wrists; his bright gaze shining into your own. It feels intimate but strangely…right.

“I guess I should be thanking Guy,” he muses. Your brows furrow in unvoiced questioning. His lips quirk at the face you make. “I was taking the advice of someone I’d never normally take advice from being so forward with you. Honestly, it’s not really me,” he admits, admiring the soft smile of your own gracing your lips at his words. “I’m more of the courting type.” You laugh brightly at his choice of words as he smirks. “Old fashioned, I know.”

“No, that’s..That’s good. More my speed. I was uh, stepping a little ways out of my comfort zone with this myself.”

The want that had been burning between you two wasn’t exactly boiling over at the moment, but despite the space between you now, it was still there... Call it a low simmer.

He pulls you closer as you wet your lips and his nose brushes yours. You’re certain he’s about to kiss you and your eyes flutter shut but instead, Bucky pulls away. He lets you go as he bites his own lip and you both hear the opening of the door again before you hear multiple footsteps follow in.

“My class is starting soon. But,” he gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to you, “we’re still on for dinner?”

You take his phone with a demure smile, feeling somewhat grateful for the shift in direction, and send yourself a text message, saving your contact in his phone before handing it back, his fingers grazing your own. “I’d really like that.”

Students begin to file in and get seated around the auditorium as you stand with Bucky.

You turn to grab your bag and your coffee cup, then face him again. You glance around and notice you’re still relatively alone, most of the students have sat toward the middle of the auditorium, and no eyes seem to be on you, but you keep your voice low anyway.

“And I do get it if you really want to go slow here, but, if you want to…ya know, try this,” you raise your brows, hoping to communicate your meaning, “again, tonight, I’d be up for that, too.”

He nods, a schoolboy smile on his lips as he admires you.

Your lips twitch with a smile of their own, “I’ll see you later.”

You feel a renewed giddiness as you turn from him and he returns your ‘bye’. His eyes are on you as you make your way down the steps and follow you until he can’t any further. You liked the feeling.

Call you crazy, but you think you just might be developing feelings for Bucky already as it is, despite not knowing much more than he seems to be a kind man, gentle, confident, insanely attractive…. You wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner solidified those feelings and more, even further. You’re looking forward to talking with him, really getting to know him.

You may not be one for sex with a stranger, but sex after the first date doesn’t sound too out there for you... Especially not when that date is with Bucky.

[morganbritton132]

was thinking about that wayne buying little steve cereal text post and was wondering if you still plan to write the fic its inspired? if so i am definitely looking forward to it and am cheering you on. if not that's cool too, i was just curious!

Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll ever actually write the fic. But! I will tell you what I had in mind because it wasn’t supposed to be a sad fic!

Wayne starts noticing this kid around town.

He shouldn’t. He doesn’t notice any other kid, and this boy is well-dressed. He seems polite enough and well-behaved. There’s no reason that Wayne should pay him any mind, except… the hair. It’s a mess. It’s brushed up and backwards like the person who fixed it didn’t quite know what they were doing.

He keeps seeing that hair everywhere.

It’s asking questions at the hardware store about lightbulbs. It’s distracting Bob at the Radio Shack. It’s taking up half the aisle at Melvard’s with a cart it can’t see over, and asking Wayne, ‘Mister, can you reach the floss for me, please?’

There’s nothing out of the ordinary, honestly, but Wayne feels a might uncomfortable every time he sees this head of hair (a bit more stylish than the last) doing something that a parent might do. Especially because he never sees a parent.

It comes to head when he’s three people back in line at Melvard’s and people are complaining. He sticks his head out to see what the hold up is and sees that head of hair again, counting out quarters and dimes at the counter for a box of cheerios.

Davey, in front of him, swears under his breath and bounces on his feet like he’s about to say something, but Wayne beats him to it. Wayne takes the few steps up to the counter, looks Donald in the eye and wishes that it had been Joyce Byers instead.

He sits his carton of eggs and gallon of milk down on the counter next to the kid’s cereal and tells Don to ring it all up together. Then he tells the kid, “Put your money away, boy.”

He tries to talk to him outside the store, but the boy squeaks out ‘thanks’ and is running before Wayne can get anything out. He doesn’t see him for a while after that, and he can’t stop thinking about how hungry he looked.

A month and some change later, Wayne finds himself sliding into a booth at the diner across from the kid with the hair. He’s devouring slices of toast, pennies and nickels counted out on the table next to him.

The kid startles, and Wayne cuts to the point, “You hungry?”

The kid nods in that skittish way that reminds him of his nephew and Wayne orders two plates of pancakes. He lets the boy eat before he asks where his parents are. He gets no answer. He asks if he has enough food at home. The kid’s eye flicker to him and then back down, “Usually.”

He clicks his tongue, swears internally, and asks how often he’s left alone and hungry, and the boy says, “Their flight got delayed.”

The boy shrugs his shoulders and explains the money they leave him, and how sometimes he’s runs out but he’s learning better. It crushes Wayne just a little that he seems so proud of himself. Wayne gives the kid his number and tells him that if he’s ever hungry to call him.

For a while, Steve would call sporadically. Sometimes goes weeks, sometimes months. They’d meet at the diner and eat. This eventually lead to Wayne cooking for him in his trailer, then to him teaching Steve the basics, then to them cooking together.

Steve got older. He got a credit card. He got busier with school, and sports, and his friends. He didn’t need Wayne to feed him anymore, but they still tried to have dinner at least once a month.

When Eddie came to live with Wayne, he told him that Stevie came to dinner every third Saturday of the month. Eddie assumed Stevie was Wayne’s girlfriend.

The first Saturday that passed, Steve had to cancel because he had a basketball game. The second Saturday, Steve’s parents were in town so he couldn’t come. The third, Steve no showed, called the next day delirious with flu and apologized to Wayne.

The fourth Saturday rolls around and Eddie is thinking, “Man, this chick does not like Wayne. He needs to break up with his girlfriend before it gets really sad.”

Then there is a knock at the door, and Eddie opens it to the biggest jock asshole in the school.

Eddie stares at Steve in horror, and Steve stares back in total confusion, and then they both get annoyed like, “What are you doing here?”

Then cut to Eddie calling Steve out on bullying and Steve tattling about Eddie walking on the lunch tables. They bicker and argue, and Wayne secretly loves it.

[qoldenskies]

It feels like Donnie always has a bundle of nerves. While Leo seems to have a more chill attitude. At least on the outside.

So I kind of write them like that.

One example I can think of on top of my head is Mant Unhappy Reminders.

Where Leo says to everyone to trust him, but it seems to the others that he is not taking it seriously. But had a plan, but does not communicate it.

Comparatively, when Donnie faced the Shredder, at least in the stadium. He was the only one who was shaking like a leaf. And teeth chattering.

He had a moment when he said “Eat science,” scene. But when that didn't work, he kind of just started having a breakdown and crying. And such.

Also, when the Shredder returns, I think Donnie might have froze.

when shredder broke his tech his first instinct was to scream and flee!! honestly i cant tell if his tech-bo activated on its own or not but regardless that was what saved his life and he didn't expect it to, and pretty much the SECOND shredder gets knocked away from him he collapses. im also thinking about minotaur maze when his first instinct is to scream for help repeatedly when he's in a life-or-death situation, its very telling

(also actually when people do post many unhappy returns fics nobody ever acknowledges that donnie also got the SHIT beaten out of him in end game when the others didnt because he was holding off draxum from the front??? like he's visibly super fucked up afterwards??? guys you could use this if youre treating their injuries realistically anyway, especially with the added angst of him having to fight all day after even though he was already pretty banged up)

(donnie being in the front lines in end game to distract draxum.... ok canary)

donnie is VERY vocal when he's afraid and his confidence is very easily shaken when he fails on the field, i think he's shown to have to fall down and just breathe through it after close calls when the others dont. he's very jumpy, unexpected loud noises freak him out, he freezes when he's out of immediate danger etc etc. he's not someone who hides it while leo usually does. leo feels like he has to be strong for his family, while donnie doesnt.

like lol leo locks tf in and focuses on the field when things get life-or-death (also very apparent in the fight with the kraang, where despite being under the threat of death he's focused enough to make split-second decisions, the line about missing on purpose!!) and donnie panic and freaks out LMAO (jumping in front of mikey to take the hit was completely instinctual by contrast! if he had leo's kind of focus he probably would have made something a lot more structured than that split second shield; donnie's ninpo reflects it well, he needs time to prepare before he jumps in while leo can think quickly)

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: A romance that explores two insecure people growing closer together through snippets of their time at work.

author’s note: Can I post three things a day? Yes. This is the first fic I've written and I love it dearly. It connected me with @rennethen who has been beta reading it patiently and helped me create significant parts of it, and for that connection alone it was worth to write it.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Renly, are you being serious right now?” John stormed into the lab’s kitchen visibly flushed with anger. Renly only blinked at him, a question in her eyes.

“I guess? Didn’t you get my note?” She definitely remembered sending the note asking John to take a raincheck. She even made a song about it to not forget, like the last time. Viktor had mocked the song at first but later grew annoyed with it.

”Please stop, this song is now rotting my brain. I get it, John is a nice guy,” Viktor rotated on his chair with a groan that has clearly been building up for at least one minute.

“Sorry, it’s the only way I don’t get distracted and forget!” to Viktor’s demise, Renly sang this line as well.

“Well, didn’t you get my note?” John said, already huffing, seemingly offended. He did get her note, he did see the little heart she drew on it and a coffee stain that suggested she wrote it hastily, while doing something else with her other hand. So, he sent a passive aggressive jokey note back stating that it’s tomorrow or he doesn’t know when, because he is also oh-so-busy.

“I can’t make it otherwise,” he laid his hands apart in apologetic gesture.

“Like… this week? Or ever?” light mockery in her voice, she said with her back to John, while pouring coffee into two cups. “It’s okay, we can have breakfast here. Do you want coffee?” Renly pulled out the third cup from the sink and waved it at John expectantly.

At which point, Viktor entered their tiny lab kitchen, scrunching his wet hair with a damp towel, his cheeks flushed and clothes slightly dishevelled, clinging to his hot-after-shower body. “Do I smell coffee? Hi John,” he said, waving at the doorway.

“Nothing will hide from you. Crisis averted?” Renly asked referring to fifteen minutes ago, when Viktor banged viciously on the bathroom door, demanding shower access immediately, as he spilled suspicious fluid from Renly’s workstation all over himself.

She said it was punishment for snooping. He said she’d taken his favourite pen, and her workstation was planned ridiculously, making moving around risky. Also, she took showers that lasted forever. She said her shower was only fifteen minutes, which is perfectly within bounds of morning toilet routine. He said she should shower at home and sleep at home; otherwise, she would end up a social pariah like him and Jayce. She said it’s a bit late for that as night is a perfect time for quiet work and she is one person away from the social pariah status. She meant John. So right now, it really did look like she was close to adding it to her work signature. She had to evacuate from the bathroom before she had the chance to dry off completely, which is why her hair was wet.

“Did you shower together?” John’s tone gained additional pitch to it as he asked his ridiculous question, visibly getting more and more distressed.

“Yes, John. We also have occasional orgies that I forgot to mention,” Renly couldn’t help about the snarky comment but when she turned around to take a look at her… boyfriend? They went out about ten times and slept together twice, so she guessed he was her boyfriend already. Well, he looked hurt, and she immediately wished she didn’t say it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Please, don’t be like that. I pulled an all-nighter again, and it was too late to go home. We showered separately, obviously,” she said in a softer voice as the cups were placed on the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen, only three chairs.

“I will give the two of you some space,” Viktor swept his cup with Jayce’s face on it and gave both of them polite smile as he walked out faster, than Renly thought he was able to.

“So… are you very cross with me?” she waited for Viktor to leave the area and asked reaching out to place her palm on top of John’s forearm, but he winced away.

John had always been good at making himself seem indispensable. When they first started seeing each other, his charm felt effortless—little gestures like remembering her favourite tea or distracting her with a ridiculous joke when she was too stressed to focus. She had let her guard down with him in a way she rarely allowed herself to. It had felt safe, comforting even. But lately, the cracks in that façade were harder to ignore. He got offended easily and threw some stupid accusations at her when he was out of arguments. She did admit, she was quite oblivious to some of relationship savoir-vivre, but it was also discussed priorly! And he said he doesn’t mind, so the next part caught her off-guard.

“I… don’t think this will work out this way,” he said with a sigh and waved his hand around making her question if he meant them, or breakfast with Victor in near vicinity. “I didn’t know this is what I was signing up for frankly,” he finished and gave her a sad puppy glance. This made her… angry? Of course, he knew what he was signing up for. She told him from the very beginning how important her work was. And how bad she was at this, but he just called her cute. Surely, this was enough of a warning. Or maybe it wasn’t but John really didn’t seem like he heard anything of what she ever said in the long run.

He was a Piltie, and she was from Zaun. He liked posh places that were trying to pass as casual, she liked to hang out by the riverbank in the evenings and sneak into The Undercity to look at street art and eat street food. He always seemed to pay attention to what she was telling him about her lab work and how many lives it could potentially change but at the end of every test presentation and heated one-sided conversation (it was hot on her side only) when she looked at him expectantly, he praised her with a you are so smart or you look pretty when you get excited about science and it left her empty of all air like a sad balloon in the aftermath of a party. He probably had a politician’s career ahead of him, so in the future, he would be the person to decide whether she does or doesn’t get funding for her research and in her mind’s eye John was a person that would probably happily fund something else than the medicine for long term Grey exposure symptoms. But he was a good practice for that. And despite everything else, she did like him. He had his moments, as they say.

In a few seconds, that took very long in the pocket dimension of her brain, Renly tried to calculate how much fault in this situation was hers and if it was worth to back down and give him a peace offering in form of a dinner at her place, that she would cook, and they would be alone, and it would be romantic, and he would probably get to fuck her on the dinner table.

The plan started forming itself, when John said “I mean… you spend all your free time here, or you drag me around the lanes. Also, this Viktor guy? I got over Jayce, recently he is barely here. So…” he dragged his huge eyes across her face looking for a sign of understanding that wasn’t there “…you understand how I feel when you spend most of your time with another man.” It came out weak, but he decided to stand by it.

“Another man? It’s Viktor,” she scoffed. “Not even a day ago he stated how much I disgust him with Zaunian food in fridge. He works all the time. We sleep in separate rooms. He…” Renly inhaled, exasperated by this accusation. It’s ridiculous, how insecure John was to even suggest that.

“He is a friend. And that’s all. I assure you he is not interested in me.” She had a dead serious certainty about this. If something was fixed in this universe, it was the fact that Viktor wasn’t interested in her. And she didn’t think of him that way either. Except the one time she let her mind wander, and she did. Which was a lie, because she thought that at least twice.

Once, when they met for the first time. She already knew Jayce, who made her gasp the first time she saw him. The impression passed, but friendship remained. Jayce and Viktor, freshly acquainted, were passing her classroom when a quake shook The Uppercity. It caused one of her test tubes to fall into the vial she was working on, breaking and triggering a teeny-tiny exoenergic reaction (it exploded). The hero within Jayce’s body drove him straight in to help any casualties, of which the only one was Renly, face full of colourful goo. From the floor, she glanced at Viktor walking in shortly after his partner, and she gasped, even more than when she had met Jayce. She immediately knew it was wrong to look for so long. Her suspicion was confirmed when Viktor’s expression shifted from amusement to the realization that his brief chance to present himself as more than the guy with a cane had passed. From that point forward, he was very formal with her, though he occasionally joked about history repeating itself within the academy walls.

It was a lie though, as well. She first saw Viktor by the riverbank in Zaun, as a child. She had been maybe seven, and he could have been slightly older. Her eyes, round and curious, followed him trying to chase down his mechanical ship taken by the stream. She tried to shadow him that day, but he disappeared in the mouth of a cave she was afraid to walk into. He had a smaller cane then and she thought him a magician. So, she only lingered in disbelief that their paths crossed once more and that he was, indeed, real. And also, in awe of how beautifully he has grown up. But overall, Renly counted it as a one time.

Second time, after she decided to stay at university to continue her research and teach students, they were copying the notes together and Jayce was growing more and more bored, so he kept trying to start random topics.

"I wonder if all of them are as pretty as Mel,” he said, trying to trace down beautiful Mel Medarda’s heritage while fishing for reassurance from his friends about their imminent romance.

“But maybe it’s not a rule. I mean, looking at the both of you I would say the rule for Zaun is to be full of attractive people as well,” Jayce was waffling on, and Renly grew tired of it.

“And ugly people. And short people. And tall people. And fat people, and skinny people, Jayce. It’s all just people, like in Piltover, there is no rule to here or Zaun. Initially, it’s the same city, and we all come from different places,” she said harshly not lifting her sight from the notes she was copying.

“Oh relax, it was a compliment! And I am looking for reassurance from you guys, yes,” he traced his finger down the blackboard, wiping some of the old equations away.

“Not very progressive of you, the Man of Progress. I can give you reassurance – Mel seems fine. You will be fine. You are a big boy, Jayce. But I do not need compliments, not because I’m from The Undercity, nor because I’m a woman,” Renly’s dead stare made Jayce look for help from Viktor. She gave him a pass and went back to scribbling.

“Vik, any help?”

“I’m afraid with this one I have to place myself in Renly’s corner. Even though of the two of us, I probably am the one that needs compliments,” Viktor also didn’t glance up from above his paperwork.

“No, you don’t,” Renly didn’t notice she now got the attention of both of her friends.

“You are, yourself, quite…” her mind was absent at this moment, so it was probably the other part of her that spoke the rest “…dreamy.” A second past, in which her brain caught up with her mouth and a deep shade of red bled into her cheeks and chest. She cleared her throat, stood up quickly and threw barely audible excuse me leaving the boys to exchange their looks and make their fun of her. Jayce snorted when Renly was out of hearing range and Viktor only mouthed a what was that? That was the second time, infinitely more mortifying than the first one.

“You put a lot of effort into assuring me of this, but you never once said if you are not interested in him. From where I’m standing, you are definitely not interested in me,” John’s voice broke her out of reminiscing.

Renly’s face went into stupid mode, twisting her features with disbelief. How dare he.

“Are you really saying what I’m hearing? Are you accusing me of infidelity based on your own insecurity? Have I truly given you any reason to believe I’m involved with anyone else but you? When do you think I would have time for that? Or do you actually not listen to me when I tell you about what I’m doing here and how much of my time and energy it consumes?” John’s expression grew more and more panicked as he saw how far he has overstepped.

“This is not… I didn’t…”

“What you didn’t do is think. You are the one who is not interested in me, John. You listen to me, but you do not register, nor remember anything I tell you. What do you want from me? Should I drop everything I’m doing just to dangle from your shoulder at the parties? Should I change the way I speak? Should I cut all my friends and relatives loose because they are from The Undercity? Would that make you feel secure enough?” she spat at him, becoming more and more angry with every sentence, self-winding regret fuelling her.

“Gods, this is not what I want, and you know it,” John brought his hand to the back of his neck, his voice gentler this time. “I just don’t feel like you want me around, is all,” he whispered, his words making Renly’s shoulders drop and her chest sink.

His fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the table, his eyes darting toward the adjoining lab room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him stealing glances at her colleagues’ workspaces, but she had always dismissed it as idle curiosity or stupid jealousy, first over Jayce, then over Viktor. Now, though, every stolen glance felt like a clue she should have picked up on sooner.

“I do,” she hesitated. “I did. I invited you to meet my people, come to my home, my work, my bed,” at which point, in the other room, Viktor—who was doing his absolute worst not to listen—squeezed a piece of chalk a little too hard, causing half of it to disintegrate into dust with a loud, whiny, bone-chilling sound that gave him goosebumps at the back of his neck. So, they slept together, great. Just great. It didn’t bother him at all, and yet… it bothered him greatly for some reason. Probably just because she will be a nightmare to be around for the next week or so.

Ridiculous, Viktor thought, though the word didn’t carry the weight he wanted it to. What did it matter who she invited into her bed? It certainly wasn’t his concern. The tightening in his chest wasn’t jealousy—it couldn’t be. No, it was irritation, that’s all. Irritation because she was so impulsive, so reckless, letting herself be distracted by someone so undeserving of her attention.

Why did it bother him? It wasn’t the first time she’d been entangled in some personal drama, and usually, he had the patience to tune it out. Yet here he was, bristling at every raised word, every pointed jab from John. It wasn’t his place to care. He had told himself years ago that people like Renly—bright, chaotic, and distractingly beautiful—were nothing but a complication. And yet, he found himself gripping his cane tighter every time John’s voice rose.

“Just realistically, I don’t think this is what you want. So, the obvious choice would be to put a pin in it until we both decide what we want,” her voice faltered. Breaking things off with John hadn’t been part of her plans for the day, and she could never have been emotionally prepared for this—especially not before breakfast. She wasn’t really breaking things off with him, either. Maybe a short, temporary break would do them good, cool things off. She fidgeted with her fingers under the table, becoming increasingly self-conscious about how much of the conversation Viktor had overheard.

“Really? So now it’s about me not respecting your Zaunian heritage, instead of you blowing me off at every opportunity?” at this point John knew that guilting her into giving it one more shot was probably his only chance. His father really wanted those hextech blueprints, and he would be very disappointed if John didn’t manage to get them. “Look, I don’t mind if we hang out here at all. But truth be told, you don’t really invite me here very often,” John said, his voice softer now, but there was an edge beneath it, like a scalpel disguised as a pen.

He had a way of twisting her words, making her feel like the selfish one for not prioritizing him more. It was a skill he wielded well, and for a moment, it almost worked. But the memory of all those little disappointments—the times he had brushed off her work as "just another experiment" or barely listened when she explained her progress—bubbled up like a pressure valve ready to burst. He did actually like her. She was his type – pretty, quirky, talented and driven. She could be a bit more elegant, but that would be polished with time. “We could make a schedule, meet here when nobody is around? Maybe you could even show me some hextech, hm?” with this, he knew he probably pushed a little bit too far, as her expression grew weary.

There it was again, that same calculated curiosity masked as casual conversation. At first, she had chalked it up to natural interest—what Piltover scholar wouldn’t want to know more about hextech? But now, with his eyes lingering too long on the blueprints and his questions steering the conversation in predictable directions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than idle fascination.

“I… you know I don’t work with hextech,” she shook her head while her brain was glueing the pieces together. “Why would you…,” and it hit her gently, prompted by the guilt painting her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s face. Unbelievable. When she thought about it longer, he did usually snoop around innocently while waiting for her to wrap up work. He would wander between the lab rooms, seemingly just killing time, but she saw him linger on the blueprints more than once. When she told him about her experiments, he always drove the discussion towards Viktor and Jayce’s work. How are they doing? So does this hextech actually work? And what do they want to use it for again? And he tried to pin it on her sleeping with Viktor. The audacity.

Renly wanted to believe the relationship had been real, that it hadn’t just been about her work or her connections. But as she stared at him now—his charming smile just a little too polished, his words just a little too well-placed—she realized how many times she had ignored her instincts. How often she had pushed aside the nagging thought that he didn’t see her, not really. Just the parts of her that were useful.

“So… you come here and make a scene about the note that you seemingly wrote for me and that I didn’t get. You accuse me of cheating on you with my colleague,” at which point Viktor scoffed to himself in the other room. The idea of Renly and him being a thing was laughable. She was too stubborn, too unpredictable, too... distracting. And yet, John’s misplaced jealousy had struck an uncomfortable chord. Absurd, Viktor reassured himself. If anything, she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves better than both of us.  

“You propose a solution – let’s hang out here,” Renly exhaled, and her eyes rested on her hands with the realization of being used all this time hitting her hard. She didn’t think she cared that much. Frankly, having a normal secure relationship also with someone normal and secure was a hope she didn’t dare to entertain very often. It was mostly work and friends for her. So, when John came along, she just let it happen, as maybe, she thought, it was a good thing happening to her. Realizing there was no love in it, left her feeling numb.

In the other room, Viktor stopped pretending to work and simply sat on a stool, his hands and chin resting on his cane. That was new territory, a kind of danger they hadn’t anticipated. Also, he did feel angry for Renly – annoying as she was, she really didn’t deserve this. He wondered if he should intervene and kick John out, but the act would have to be based on his authority, which as a fellow Zaunian in John’s eyes he had none. Any show of force would need to be purely verbal—calculated and precise enough to leave the boy speechless and make him back down without a fight. While he was negotiating the terms of this heroic act with himself, he heard Renly’s voice echoing across the corridors: “I think it’s best you go.”

“Can we talk this through?” one last desperate attempt on John’s side as he covered Renly’s palm with his. She slid her hand from underneath his, threw a quick no over her shoulder and stepped through a heavy metal door that separated living area form the laboratory. She locked it behind her with a loud crank and immediately sank to hug her knees. Well, shit. This wasn’t part of her plan for today. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Viktor. If Jayce was here, he’d make it better, but he was with the beautiful Mel Medarda having breakfast in her quarters, which was a secret. Viktor would make fun of her—or worse, he’d get cross for endangering their life’s work. On one side of the door, her mean ex-boyfriend, on the other her mean niggling friend. She could just stay here.

“Do you need help getting up?” Viktor’s voice made her gasp and release the tears that were gathering under her eyelids, now streaming down her cheeks. And just to be clear, they were angry tears, not sad pathetic tears.

“Maybe,” Renly said, wiping her face with a sleeve, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. She accepted his offered hand, which was about to pull her up. Unfortunately, the sudden movement sent a cramp shooting down Viktor’s calf, leaving Renly standing while he folded in half.

“Oh shit, Viktor I’m sorry, let me grab a stool!”

“Ah, no need. It’s fine. Just a cramp, it’ll stretch,” he panted, sliding down the corridor wall. She crouched down by him, question in her eyes about what to do.

“Well, where is it? I can… rub it out?” she heard herself saying and a darker shade of pink flushed her already enflamed cheeks. Viktor noticed. Her hands were faster than her brain this time and she already had his calf in her grasp, looking for the knot.

The warmth of her hands startled him, a flicker of something unwanted creeping into his thoughts. He shut it down immediately. She’s just helping. Don’t make it into something it isn’t. But the gentleness of her touch lingered longer than it should have, and when she looked up at him, her face flushed with concentration, he had to look away. Focus, Viktor. This means nothing.

“How did you get this so bad, Viktor?” she gasped at the state of her friend’s muscle, contracted like a rusty hinge. Her eyes full of concern, and some guilt. She made him uncomfortable in his own lab, because of some stupid drama. Stupid, yet it tore a hole in her heart.

Viktor remembered this look. He remembered the way she had looked at him back when they first met—not the awestruck gaze she reserved for Jayce, but something deeper, sharper. It had unnerved him. People always noticed the cane first; it was a fact he had come to accept. But she had looked past it—no, she had lingered on it, and he wasn’t sure whether it was curiosity, pity, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter now. He had decided long ago to keep her at a polite distance.

“Too much sitting down, ah!” he gasped when more pressure was applied “I tried to work through your… quarrel,” Viktor’s voice grew breathier, his eyebrows pinching together. Absent-mindedly, he placed his right hand on Renly’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting his body relax into her touch. She was very careful, almost… affectionate.

“I guess this would fuel John’s theory,” he chuckled slightly, forgetting himself. Did he just admit that something was possible? Renly was too focused on getting rid of the knot to notice the awkward grunt following this sentence, and without much thought to it she said, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Something sunk in Victor’s chest hearing that. Of course, it was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. All of it. He was about to figure out how to run away, take his leg with him and tell her this is good enough, when she continued.

“I mean, we are not responsible for someone’s insecurities. I refuse to be. Also, as I presume you heard all of it, you will know that it was all a play,” she put so much attention into rubbing Viktor’s calf that the words just went out of her mouth. “Just to get his hands on hextech. So, I’m guessing this accusation was also fabricated to guilt me. Or he was obsessed with you. Which I understand… gotcha!” she exclaimed as the muscle relaxed under her fingers, and Viktor gave an involuntary moan, making both of them flush slightly.

The tension in his calf eased, but his chest felt impossibly tight. He was about to thank her—briefly, formally—when the look on her face stopped him. She was glowing, not with the self-satisfaction he often associated with Jayce, but with genuine care. It was infuriating. No, not infuriating—irrelevant. Why do you even notice these things? he scolded himself, rising awkwardly to his feet and turning away before the warmth in her eyes could undo him further.

“Forgive me, I… thank you,” was all he was able to say.

“That’s… it’s nothing, no worries.”

“I believe you know this, but in case you don’t—he’s a donkey, and you’re brilliant, yes?” Viktor tossed over his shoulder. “Ah, I’m not… thank you,” she said, standing in the corridor, confused, her face burning. What was that?

[the-winter-spider]

Willow | 1/2

Pairings: 1940sBucky x Agent!Reader, Bucky x agent!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Nothing really

A/N: This fic was inspired by @vibraniumqueen message sent to me!! Hope its sort of what you requested! I got carried away and now have to post this in 2 parts lol

Im not like the biggest fan of this buuuuut after writing over 15k words total for the whole fic i gotta post it lol ALSO i definitely did not edit this lmao oopsie

The door slid open, and in walked Nick Fury, his presence commanding the room as always. He didn’t bother with formalities; he never did.

“Agent,” Fury began, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got a mission. One that never happened, and one you’ll never speak of again.”

You nodded, your face impassive, though your mind was already racing. Missions like these were your specialty. You didn’t operate in the spotlight. You weren’t one of Fury’s public heroes or a celebrated Avenger. You were a shadow, a weapon honed in the dark, moving through the world unnoticed. A ghost.

Fury crossed the room, his trench coat brushing the floor as he moved. “We’ve identified a Nazi stronghold in 1941, deep in occupied Europe. They’re in possession of critical documents — plans and technology decades ahead of their time. We can’t let those files survive the war.”

You glanced at the map, your mind already calculating. “Time travel,” you said, your voice calm, though the weight of the mission began to settle on your shoulders.

Fury nodded. “You’ll be stationed as a nurse with the 107th Infantry. They’ll be arriving at a field camp near the stronghold in a few days. Your cover is simple: blend in, gain access to the target, retrieve the files, and get out. No deviations. No attachments.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. No attachments. That had been drilled into you since the beginning. You were trained to be invisible, to serve a mission and then disappear without a trace. Your past in the Red Room had taught you that much, and SHIELD had only refined it.

“I assume I’m working alone,” you said.

Fury’s expression didn’t change. “You always do.”

It was true. You were a ghost in every sense of the word. You’d spent your entire life operating on the fringes, never part of a team, never part of their world. You knew of the Avengers, of course—who didn’t? But they didn’t know you. You weren’t a part of their grand battles or their legendary victories.

Well, except for one. Natasha Romanoff. She’d been a fleeting presence in your life, a reminder of your shared origins in the Red Room. You’d trained in the same shadows, fought the same demons. But even then, you hadn’t truly known her. She’d been a specter of a different life, one that had moved on without you. While she got recruited there, Fury thought you were best suited in the shadows.

You refocused as Fury handed you a dossier. Inside were detailed maps, forged documents, and a small vial containing a glowing blue liquid. The device that would send you back in time.

“You know the drill,” Fury said, his tone as sharp as ever. “You’re not there to change history, only to secure our future. In and out. No one remembers you, and you don’t bring anything or anyone back.”

You nodded, flipping through the dossier. “And the 107th?”

“They don’t know who you are, and they never will. You’re a nurse. That’s it. But one name on that roster might ring a bell.” Fury tapped the folder, and you found it instantly. Barnes, James Buchanan.

The name didn’t spark recognition, but it did send a strange ripple through your thoughts. “Why him?” you asked.

Fury shrugged. “No reason. He’s just another soldier in the unit. But don’t let that distract you. This mission isn’t about making friends, and it damn sure isn’t about saving anyone who doesn’t need saving.”

You clenched your jaw. Fury’s words were a reminder of the line you couldn’t cross. You’d trained for this moment for years, honing your skills to perfection. You were designed to be unseen, unheard, and unfelt.

Fury’s voice snapped you back. “You’ve got your orders. Do your job, Agent. Leave no trace.”

You took the dossier and the vial, tucking them away with practiced efficiency. “Understood,” you said, your voice steady, devoid of hesitation. But as you turned to leave, the familiar mantra echoed in your mind: No attachments. No connections. You’re a ghost.

Later, when you finally opened the dossier, your eyes landed on a photograph. Barnes. The name was familiar, but it wasn’t until you stared at his face that something inside you stirred. A strange sense of recognition flickered in the back of your mind. You knew him—or at least, it felt like you did.

You flipped the page, your pulse quickening as more details came into view. And then, you saw it.

The Winter Soldier.

The words stared back at you, cold and unfeeling, but they sparked a storm of emotions you weren’t prepared for. You knew the name, of course. Everyone in this business did. The ghost story whispered in shadows, the assassin whose presence was felt long after he disappeared into the night. But what you didn’t know was the man behind it.

Your gaze drifted back to the photograph, and for a moment, everything else fell away. His eyes. Even through the grainy black-and-white image, they stood out—haunted, distant, yet somehow familiar. There was innocence there, a quiet humanity buried beneath the weight of the darkness he would come to bear.

You tightened your grip on the file, your knuckles whitening. Ghosts weren’t meant to feel, and yet here you were, shaken by a face from the past you couldn’t place but somehow couldn’t forget.

Flipping through the pages, you scanned his history—Brooklyn, 1941, the 107th Infantry. Your breath caught as more images filled the pages. Pictures of him before he became the Winter Soldier: laughing with other soldiers, standing beside a scrawny young man labeled Steve Rogers, of course you knew him as Captain America but no one would ever know you. Then, the darker photos followed. HYDRA. The experiments. The cold, dead stare of a man who had been stripped of everything.

The door to your quarters slid shut with a soft hiss, and for a moment, the silence was almost suffocating. You placed the dossier and the small vial of glowing blue liquid on the steel table in front of you. The mission parameters were clear, the risks higher than usual, but none of that was new. You’d done this before, moving through missions like a shadow, leaving no trace. Yet, something about this one felt… different. Heavier.

You sat down, the cold metal of the chair grounding you. Flicking open the dossier, you reviewed the details again, committing every piece of information to memory. Maps, personnel lists, cover identities. You’d be stationed as a nurse in a field hospital near the front lines. A perfect cover for blending in. Your forged papers were flawless, down to the tiniest detail.

Your name was different now. Your past erased, rewritten to fit the narrative of a 1940s nurse.

Ghosts didn’t get attached. Ghosts didn’t feel. You weren’t there to alter history or forge connections. Your mission was simple: retrieve the files, destroy them if necessary, and get out.

You pushed the dossier aside and picked up the vial, turning it over in your hands. The blue liquid shimmered faintly, a reminder of the power it held. Time travel was a delicate operation, one that required precision and absolute control. There was no room for error.

You placed the vial carefully into the injector and secured it around your wrist. The faint hum of the device powering up was the only sound in the room.

Your internal monologue began to surface, unbidden.

You weren’t supposed to be here, not in this timeline, not in their world. You’d been forged in the Red Room, molded into an instrument of precision and silence. SHIELD had found you, given you purpose beyond the shadows of your past, but you had never stepped into the light. You were designed to operate in the margins of history, invisible to the heroes who saved the world.

It hurt thinking of Natasha, her voice, her presence in the Red Room. She had been a beacon of strength. But she had walked away from that world, found a new family. You? You remained in the shadows, bound to missions that no one could know about, missions that didn’t exist on paper. You didn't exist on paper.

You stood and approached the small mirror on the wall. The face staring back at you was calm, unyielding. But behind your eyes, you could see the tension creeping in.

You’re not doing this for glory or recognition. You’re doing this because you’re the only one who can.

You reached for the pack of clothing and equipment laid out on the nearby table. The nurse’s uniform was meticulously crafted, down to the period-accurate buttons and insignia. As you slipped into the attire, you felt yourself becoming the role. The transformation was seamless, automatic, a ritual that pulled you deeper into the identity you were about to assume.

Finally, you secured the last piece: a silver locket around your neck. Inside was a tiny microchip, a piece of technology far beyond anything the 1940s could comprehend. It was your failsafe, your tether back to the present.

A soft chime from the injector reminded you it was time. You glanced around the room, taking in every detail, knowing this might be the last familiar sight you’d see for a while. Then, you pressed the button on your wrist.

The world around you began to shift, colors bleeding into one another as time folded in on itself. Your heart pounded, but your expression remained stoic. You’d trained for this, prepared for every contingency. You were ready.

As the light around you intensified, your final thought was simple, resolute: You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

And then, the world snapped into focus, and you were standing in a field hospital in 1941, the distant sound of artillery fire echoing through the air.

The mission had begun.

The salty breeze off the English Channel carried the smell of sea and steel, a sharp reminder of the battles waged across its waters. You stood at the edge of the field hospital camp, the makeshift tents and wooden crates around you blending into the mud-soaked earth. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows as the air grew cooler.

From where you were stationed, you could see the transport ship docking at the pier. Its hulking frame loomed against the gray sky, the gangplank lowering with a heavy groan. One by one, soldiers began to disembark, their boots clanging against the metal as they descended.

You were trained to observe, to analyze every detail without drawing attention to yourself. These men were exhausted, their faces grim and hardened by the horrors they had faced. Their uniforms were wrinkled and stained, helmets tilted at weary angles. They moved like a unit, but each step spoke of personal battles, of stories carried in silence.

You stayed rooted in place, your nurse’s uniform a perfect blend of authority and anonymity. A clipboard in your hand gave you an excuse to linger, but no one paid you much mind. This was war. You were just another face in the chaos.

Your eyes scanned the line of soldiers disembarking, cataloging them with practiced precision. You were supposed to be looking for weaknesses, details that might help you blend in more effectively. But then, your gaze landed on one man.

He walked with a quiet confidence, his posture upright despite the weight of fatigue. Dark hair peeked out from beneath his helmet, and his steel-blue eyes scanned the camp with a soldier’s wariness. His face was sharp, shadowed by stubble, but it was his expression that caught you—equal parts focused and distant, as if he were both here and somewhere far away.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You knew his name, knew his story—or at least, the parts that history would remember… the parts in the folder. But standing here now, seeing him in the flesh, was something else entirely. He wasn’t just a name in a dossier or a ghost from the past. He was real, and the weight of that realisation hit you like a wave.

I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night.

His arrival had stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. Your mission was clear: stay invisible, complete the task, and leave. No deviations, no entanglements. But as you watched him, your chest tightened with an inexplicable pull. There was something about him, something magnetic.

Bucky paused near the base of the gangplank, helping another soldier with a crate of supplies. His voice was low, his words lost in the din of the camp, but the kindness in his gestures was unmistakable. He was a soldier, yes, but there was a warmth to him, a spark of humanity that hadn’t been extinguished by war.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the clipboard in your hand. Stay sharp. Stay focused. You couldn’t afford distractions, not here, not now.

And yet, your eyes betrayed you, flickering back to him as he moved through the camp, his presence impossible to ignore. You told yourself it was just curiosity, a natural reaction to seeing someone you’d only read about.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like to speak to him, to share even a fraction of the weight you carried. But the thought was fleeting, quickly buried beneath the weight of your training.

You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

The smell of antiseptic and damp canvas filled the air as you moved between the rows of cots in the makeshift medical tent. Their arrival—was what you’d been waiting for.

You were focused on checking supplies when a familiar commotion at the tent entrance caught your attention. A group of soldiers sauntered in, their uniforms caked in dirt and their faces shadowed with fatigue. Among them was a man who immediately stood out. His dark hair curled slightly at the ends, his blue eyes bright despite the grime smeared across his face. He carried himself with an easy confidence, even as he favoured one leg.

Your mission dossier hadn’t prepared you for the sheer presence of him.

As the soldiers dispersed to their assigned cots, he made a beeline for you. His limp was subtle but noticeable, and despite yourself, your training kicked in.

“Take a seat,” you said, your voice steady as you gestured to an empty cot. “I’ll take a look at that leg.”

Bucky flashed a crooked smile, his eyes sweeping over you with interest. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, tinged with the faintest Brooklyn accent. “And here I thought this camp was all bad news.”

You arched an eyebrow, setting down your clipboard. “Flattery won’t get you out of a medical exam, Sergeant Barnes.”

His grin widened as he sat down, wincing slightly. “So, you know my name. That’s a good start. What do I call you, Nurse…?”

You hesitated for half a second, then gave him your cover name. “Nurse Johnson.”

“Well, Nurse Johnson,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “if I’d known there were nurses like you out here, I’d have gotten shot a long time ago.”

You gave him a pointed look, crouching in front of him to roll up the tattered leg of his uniform. “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?”

Bucky’s laugh was soft but genuine, his gaze never leaving your face. “You’re all business, huh?”

You pressed lightly on his shin, watching for a reaction. “Someone has to be. Looks like you’ve got a nasty sprain, but nothing’s broken.”

“Guess I’ll live to fight another day,” he said, wincing slightly as you adjusted his leg.

“Barely,” you muttered, grabbing a bandage from your kit. As you wrapped his leg, you could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his attention almost unnerving.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, his tone playful but curious.

"Thats the line you're gonna go with?" The corners of your lips slightly turned as you tied off the bandage, sitting back on your heels. “Helping stubborn soldiers like you survive long enough to get home.”

Bucky chuckled, his head tilting slightly. “You got a smart mouth on you, Nurse Johnson. I like that.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms. “And you’ve got a sprained leg. Try not to make it worse.”

He grinned again, leaning forward slightly. “You know, if you’re ever looking for a dance partner when this war’s over, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You better. A guy like me doesn’t make that offer twice.”

Shaking your head, you gathered your supplies and turned to leave. “Try to stay out of trouble, Sergeant.”

“No promises,” he called after you, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’ll do my best if it means seeing you again.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, finding him still watching you, his smile softer now. Your mission had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

The first few days at the field hospital were a blur of motion and noise. Soldiers came in with fresh wounds, some minor, others devastating. Your hands worked tirelessly, stitching cuts, setting broken bones, administering whatever pain relief was available. You moved through it all like a machine, your focus never wavering.

You’d trained for moments like this, where life and death were separated by a thread, but this mission wasn’t about saving lives—it was about staying hidden long enough to complete your objective. The files you needed were still buried somewhere in enemy hands, and every moment you spent here was one step closer to obtaining them.

Still, blending in was vital, and that meant interacting with the men around you. They were polite, for the most part, offering nods of gratitude when you patched them up. But one soldier in particular seemed to be making it his mission to capture your attention.

“Hey, Nurse,” a familiar voice called out one evening as you worked on organizing supplies. You turned to see Bucky Barnes leaning against the frame of the medical tent, a lopsided grin on his face. “Got a minute?”

You raised an eyebrow, but kept your expression neutral. “That depends. Are you here because you need actual medical attention, or are you just bored?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Bit of both, maybe.”

You sighed, setting down the bandages you were sorting. “Let me guess—another soldier got into a scuffle and you decided to play referee?”

Bucky stepped closer, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Something like that. You know how it is. Boys will be boys.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and despite yourself, you felt a flicker of amusement.

You crossed your arms, feigning exasperation. “Well, if you’re not bleeding, you’re wasting my time, Sergeant.”

“Ah, but see, you didn’t check.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Maybe I’ve got a battle wound you missed.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile threatening to break through. “If you’re trying to flirt, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Flirt? Me?” Bucky placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “I’m just trying to keep morale up. Can’t have our best nurse getting all serious on us.”

“Best nurse?” You arched an eyebrow. “You’ve known me for all of three days, Barnes.”

“Three days is all I need,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. “I’ve got a good eye for people.”

You turned back to your supplies, determined to maintain your composure. “Well, maybe you should use that good eye to look out for your men instead of distracting me.”

Bucky chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “I do that too. Multitasking, you know?”

You shot him a pointed look, but before you could respond, another soldier poked his head into the tent, interrupting the moment. “Sarge, we’ve got a situation by the south perimeter.”

Bucky’s demeanour shifted instantly, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by sharp focus. He gave you a quick nod, then turned to follow the soldier out.

“Don’t work too hard, doll,” he called over his shoulder as he left. “Wouldn’t want you wearing yourself out.”

You shook your head, finally letting out a small laugh once he was gone. Bucky Barnes was trouble, that much was clear. He was charming, confident, and far too good at making you forget the rules you were supposed to live by.

But he was also a soldier, just like the rest of them. And you were here for a mission, not for him.

Stay focused, you reminded yourself, though it was getting harder with every interaction.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Bucky found every opportunity to stop by the medical tent, whether it was to check on his men or to toss a teasing remark your way. He seemed determined to pull you out of your shell, to coax a smile or a laugh from you no matter how busy or serious the day became.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a soldier with a shrapnel wound, Bucky appeared again, his presence filling the tent like sunlight cutting through a storm.

“Thought you might need some help,” he said, leaning casually against a supply crate.

You didn’t even look up. “Unless you’ve suddenly become a medic, I think I’m good.”

“Hey, I’m a fast learner,” he quipped, stepping closer. “Show me what to do, and I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had.”

You finally glanced up at him, your expression skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” He grinned, unflinching. “C’mon, Nurse. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed, gesturing toward the supplies. “Fine. Hand me the gauze.”

Bucky’s grin widened as he moved to your side, and for the next few minutes, he actually did as he was told, passing you tools and supplies with surprising care. But of course, it didn’t take long for him to start talking again.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you always this serious, or is it just an act?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe I’m trying to keep certain soldiers in line.”

“Ah, so I’m a bad influence,” he teased, leaning a little closer. “Good to know.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying not to let his proximity affect you. “You’re definitely something.”

The playful banter continued, but beneath it all, you felt the weight of unspoken truths. Every moment with Bucky was a reminder of what you couldn’t have, of the life you were just passing through. But for now, in the fleeting quiet of the field hospital, you allowed yourself to enjoy his presence.

Just for a little while.

The sun was setting, painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. The camp had grown quieter, the hum of daily activity fading as the soldiers took what little rest they could before nightfall. You were sitting on a wooden crate just outside the medical tent, enjoying a rare moment of stillness. A cup of lukewarm coffee sat in your hands, its warmth a small comfort against the cool evening air.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Mind if I join you?” Bucky’s voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

You glanced at him, your heart giving a small, inexplicable flutter. “It’s a free camp,” you said, gesturing to the crate beside you.

Bucky sat down with a tired sigh, his helmet resting on his lap. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling comfortably between you. He looked different in the fading light—less like the cocky sergeant who flirted with you during the day and more like the weary soldier you knew he was. His eyes were distant, reflecting the weight of battles fought and losses endured.

“You don’t talk much about yourself,” he said after a while, his voice thoughtful. “Most of the nurses here, they talk about home, family. You… you’re a mystery.”

You kept your gaze on the horizon, your grip tightening slightly on the cup. “Maybe I just don’t have much to tell.”

“Everyone’s got a story,” he countered, glancing at you. “Even ghosts.”

Your heart skipped at the word, but you kept your expression neutral. “Ghosts don’t have stories. They just… exist.”

Bucky frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Is that what you think you are? A ghost?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his insight. He was perceptive, more than you’d expected. Finally, you spoke, your voice low. “I’ve spent a long time learning how to disappear. It’s easier that way.”

Bucky studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. “Easier, maybe. But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You swallowed hard. “Loneliness is part of the job.”

He shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “Doesn’t have to be.”

You turned to look at him then, your eyes meeting his. There was no teasing now, no flirtation. Just quiet sincerity. It made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I don’t really have anyone to talk about,” you admitted after a moment. “No family, not that I remember. My parents… I don’t even know their names.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyes filled with empathy. “Were you… a orphan?”

You hesitated, the term feeling both accurate and not. “Something like that. I was raised by people who didn’t care about who I was, only what I could do for them.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you’d intended, but Bucky didn’t shy away from them. His gaze softened further, and he nodded slowly. “That’s a hell of a way to grow up,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, trying to deflect the weight of the conversation. “It made me good at what I do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his voice tinged with something that sounded like regret. “But it doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

You looked away, unsure how to respond. Empathy wasn’t something you were used to, especially not from someone like him—someone who seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, even in the middle of a war.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You remind me of someone.”

You glanced at him, curious. “Who?”

“Steve,” he said with a small, fond smile. “He didn’t have much either. His mom passed not too long ago, and his dad when we were kids. But it's always been just him one way or another just fighting to survive in Brooklyn. Always getting picked on because he’s small, but he never gave up. He had this stubborn streak, always standing up for people, even when it got him into trouble.”

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You knew his story, but hearing Bucky talk about him like this—like he was just Steve, not a legend, because to this Bucky he wasn’t one yet—it painted a different picture.

“Must’ve been tough,” you said softly.

Bucky nodded. “It was. But he never let it break him. That’s just who he is.” He paused, his smile growing a little. “He can't throw a rock without wheezing but he never let that and will never let that stop him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the warmth in Bucky’s voice cutting through the weight of the conversation.

“He’s lucky to have you,” you said.

Bucky looked at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I’m lucky to have him too. He’s always been there, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The vulnerability in his words mirrored your own, and for a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared pasts hanging between you.

Bucky reached out then, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re not as invisible as you think,” he said softly. “Not to me…I see you Nurse, and the view is amazing”

The camp was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that preceded something terrible. The usual hum of activity had slowed, and even the soldiers seemed more on edge. You felt it too—the tension in the air, the weight of something approaching.

You were in the medical tent, organising supplies when the call came.

“Enemy movement spotted near the south perimeter!” a soldier shouted as he rushed past. “They’re coming!”

Your heart dropped. You knew this moment was inevitable. The enemy had been closing in for days, and now they were here. But it wasn’t just the impending battle that had your stomach in knots. It was the mission—the files.

You quickly grabbed your hidden satchel from beneath your cot. Inside were the tools you’d need to breach the Nazi stronghold, which was now dangerously close to enemy lines. You’d been waiting for this opportunity, but it was coming at the worst possible time. The camp was about to become a battlefield, and every second counted.

Before you could slip away, Bucky stormed into the tent, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his face set in a grim expression.

“There you are,” he said, his eyes scanning you quickly, as if ensuring you were unharmed. “They’ve called all hands. It’s gonna get rough out there.”

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He frowned, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as you tightened the straps on your satchel. “I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. “What’s in the bag?”

You froze for a split second, but it was enough for him to notice.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I can’t explain right now. I just… I have to go.”

His jaw tightened. “Go? Where? The perimeter’s crawling with enemy troops, and you’re talking about running off?”

You stepped past him, but he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. “You’ve been keeping secrets since the day you got here. Please, dont do this….What’s really going on?”

You hesitated, the weight of your mission crashing down on you. Bucky wasn’t supposed to know. No one was. But in this moment, with his piercing gaze locked onto yours, you realized you couldn’t just walk away without saying something.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you said quietly. “I’m not just a nurse. I’m here on a mission.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed “A mission?” confusion and concern mixing in his expression. “What kind of mission?”

You glanced around, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I can’t tell you everything. But there’s something I need to retrieve from the enemy. It’s vital.”

His grip on your arm tightened slightly. “You’re planning to go out there alone?”

“I have to,” you said, your voice firm. “This is what I was sent here to do.”

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you even have backup?”

“No,” you admitted. “This mission is off the books.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he exhaled sharply. “That’s insane. You can’t go out there alone.”

“I’ve done it before,” you said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll be fine.”

But Bucky wasn’t convinced. “Not this time,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’m coming with you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped you. He wasn’t going to let you go alone.

“Bucky—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You don’t get to push me away now. If this is as important as you say it is, then you’re gonna need someone watching your back.”

You hesitated, torn between the mission and the growing connection you felt with him. Bringing Bucky along wasn’t part of the plan, but the truth was, you knew he was right. The enemy would be everywhere, and the odds of surviving alone were slim.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But you follow my lead. No questions.”

He gave you a small, determined nod. “Deal.”

Together, you slipped out of the tent and into the night, the distant sound of gunfire growing louder with each step. The mission was about to reach its breaking point, and so was your fragile trust in Bucky.

But there was no turning back now.

The camp was already descending into chaos by the time you and Bucky slipped through the south perimeter. Gunfire echoed in the distance, mingling with the shouts of soldiers and the thunderous roar of artillery. The enemy was closing in fast, and every second felt like borrowed time.

You led the way, keeping low as you navigated the uneven terrain. Bucky followed close behind, his rifle at the ready, his eyes scanning for threats. The weight of your satchel bounced against your side, a constant reminder of the mission’s stakes.

“Where exactly are we going?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice as you reached a narrow trail leading toward the enemy-occupied forest.

“There’s a stronghold about a mile from here,” you replied, keeping your voice low. “That’s where they’re keeping the files.”

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “And how do you know this?”

You hesitated. “Let’s just say I have access to intel most people don’t.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine. I’ll trust you.”

The tension between you was palpable, but there was no time to unpack it. You pressed on, the shadows of the trees swallowing you both as you moved deeper into enemy territory.

The stronghold loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. It was an old stone fortress, fortified with barbed wire and patrolled by armed guards. You and Bucky crouched behind a cluster of bushes, observing the layout.

“Two guards at the main entrance,” Bucky whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “And a patrol circling every few minutes.”

You nodded, scanning the area. “There’s a side entrance near the east wall. It’s less guarded, but we’ll have to time it perfectly.”

Bucky smirked slightly. “You’ve done this before.”

“More times than I care to admit,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the patrols. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Together, you moved swiftly and silently, sticking to the shadows. When the patrol passed, you darted toward the east wall, Bucky covering your six. The side entrance was a narrow metal door, rusted and worn. You pulled a small device from your satchel, a compact tool designed to pick even the most secure locks. Within seconds, the door clicked open.

“Impressive,” Bucky murmured as you slipped inside.

You gave him a quick look. “Focus.”

Inside, the stronghold was cold and dimly lit, the corridors eerily quiet. You navigated the labyrinthine hallways with precision, your memory of the layout guiding you. Bucky stayed close, his rifle raised and ready.

Finally, you reached a secured room at the end of a long hallway. A heavy steel door stood between you and your objective.

“This is it,” you whispered, pulling out another device from your satchel. It was a miniature explosive, designed to breach the door without causing a large-scale alert.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “You really came prepared.”

“Like I said,” you replied, placing the explosive, “I’ve done this before.”

The device beeped softly as you set the timer. “Stand back.”

The explosion was quick and precise, the door blasting inward with minimal noise. You and Bucky rushed inside, your eyes immediately scanning the room. It was filled with filing cabinets and stacks of documents, the enemy’s plans meticulously organized.

You went to work, quickly locating the files you needed. As you stuffed them into your satchel, Bucky kept watch by the door.

“So this is what all the secrecy was about?” he asked, his voice low but tense.

“These files could change everything,” you said, your hands moving quickly. “If they fall into the wrong hands, it could shift the balance of power for decades.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “Then we make sure they don’t.”

Just as you secured the last of the files, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Time to go,” Bucky said, his grip tightening on his rifle.

You nodded, and together you slipped out of the room, moving quickly and quietly through the stronghold. But as you reached the exit, the footsteps grew louder, closer. The guards were on high alert now.

“We’re not gonna make it out the way we came,” Bucky muttered, his eyes scanning for another escape route.

You pointed to a nearby staircase. “There’s a secondary exit through the upper level. It leads to the roof.”

Bucky nodded, and the two of you raced up the stairs, your boots barely making a sound on the worn stone steps. At the top, you found the door to the roof. It was locked, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. He slammed his shoulder into it, forcing it open with a grunt.

The night air hit you like a wall as you stepped onto the roof. Below, the camp was in chaos, enemy soldiers scrambling in response to the breach.

“There,” Bucky said, pointing to a nearby tree line. “We jump, head for cover.”

You hesitated, the drop from the roof to the ground far from ideal. But there was no time to argue. With a nod, you followed Bucky as he leapt, landing with a roll in the soft dirt below. You hit the ground a moment later, pain shooting through your legs as you landed hard but kept moving.

Together, you sprinted toward the trees, gunfire erupting behind you. Bullets whizzed past, but you didn’t stop, adrenaline driving you forward. Finally, you reached the cover of the forest, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter.

Once you were safely concealed among the trees, you collapsed against a trunk, your breath coming in heavy gasps. Bucky crouched beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of pursuit.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, clutching the satchel tightly. “Mission accomplished.”

Bucky gave a small, breathless laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You met his gaze, the tension of the moment fading slightly as his familiar smirk returned. “So are you, Sergeant.”

Despite the danger, despite everything, you felt a flicker of warmth between you. The mission had tested both your resolve and your connection, but you’d made it out together. And somehow, that made all the difference.

The firelight flickered across the camp, casting long shadows as the remnants of the battle settled into an uneasy calm. You and Bucky sat on the edge of the forest, just beyond the perimeter, hidden from sight. The distant sound of gunfire and shouting had finally faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the night.

The stolen Nazi files were secure in your satchel, now buried beneath layers of medical supplies. You’d succeeded in your mission, but the cost weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky sat beside you, silent for a long time. His rifle was propped against a tree, his hands resting on his knees. The tension between you had shifted—no longer marked by suspicion but by a shared understanding.

“You really weren’t kidding about being a ghost,” he said eventually, his voice low and thoughtful.

You glanced at him, the flickering firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. “I told you it was important.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. But you didn’t tell me everything.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of frustration. “Because you didn’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trust,” you said quietly, your fingers tightening around the satchel. “It’s about the mission. It’s about keeping things safe.”

Bucky frowned, his gaze searching your face. “Safe from what?”

You hesitated, carefully choosing your words. “From things that could change everything if they’re not handled right.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the soldier in him catching on to the weight behind your statement. “Sounds like more than just some stolen files.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky was silent for a moment, processing your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with awe and concern. “And you’ve been doing this alone?”

“It’s what I was trained for,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “No attachments, no distractions. Just the mission.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “That’s no way to live.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “It’s the only way I know.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re more than just a mission, you know. You’ve got a life, a soul. You can’t keep shutting people out.”

Your chest tightened at his words. For so long, you’d lived in the shadows, carrying the burden of your missions alone. But now, sitting here with Bucky, you felt the cracks in your armor growing wider.

“I’m not supposed to get attached,” you said quietly. “It makes things complicated.”

Bucky gave a small, rueful smile. “Too late for that….”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a surge of emotion, a mix of fear and longing. You’d spent years building walls, but Bucky Barnes was breaking through them with every shared glance, every quiet moment.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s hand stayed on yours, steady and grounding. His touch was gentle, but there was strength behind it, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t used to.

“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, you know?” his voice soft but resolute. “I’m in this.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the firelight reflecting off his metal fingers. It felt like he was holding more than just your hand—like he was holding the weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long.

“I’ve never had this before,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what it’s like to lean on someone, to let someone in.”

Bucky’s thumb traced small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “It’s not easy,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the vulnerability of the moment making your chest ache. “What if I’m not good at it? What if I mess this up?”

Bucky leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “You won’t. And even if you stumble, I’ll be right here. We’ll figure it out together.”

His words broke through the last of your defenses, and a tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky’s other hand came up, his thumb gently wiping it away. His touch was so tender, it made your heart ache even more.

“You’ve been through so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “Bucky…”

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “Just let me be here for you.”

The two of you sat there in silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. The world outside the camp seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet comfort of the moment.

After a while, you finally spoke, your voice barely audible. “You’ve made me feel something I didn’t think I could feel.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Hope,” you said, the word feeling both fragile and powerful.

His lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile. “Then we’ve got something to hold on to.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and tentative, a promise of something deeper. When you pulled back, his eyes were shining, and you could see the depth of his feelings mirrored in them.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “One step at a time.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. “Together.”

Bucky squeezed your hand, his warmth chasing away the chill of the night. “Together,” he echoed.

And in that moment, with the firelight flickering around you and the weight of your shared pasts slowly lifting, you believed him.

In the days following the mission, the dynamic between you and Bucky began to change. There was a newfound understanding between you, a quiet bond forged in the heat of battle and the weight of shared secrets.

Bucky became more protective, often finding excuses to check in on you, whether it was during your rounds at the medical tent or when you were working alone. His teasing remarks were still there, but they were softer now, laced with genuine care.

You found yourself leaning on him more, allowing him into the parts of your life you’d always kept hidden. And despite the danger, despite the mission’s stakes, you had the files you could go back now and have exiled beating your initial time, but you stayed you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding onto.

But in the back of your mind, you knew the clock was ticking. The mission was complete, and soon, you’d have to leave this time, this world—and Bucky—behind.

The glow of the fire illuminated the night, the crackle the only sound cutting through. Most of the camp had settled in for the evening, but you and Bucky remained near the fire, sitting side by side on a fallen log. The warm glow danced across his face, softening the sharp angles and making his eyes shimmer like the stars above.

Bucky leaned back slightly, resting his arm along the log behind you. “So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked with a playful smirk, his voice low and smooth.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Really? That’s the line you’re going with….again?”

He grinned, his teeth catching the firelight. “What can I say? I’m trying to impress the mysterious nurse who keeps patching me up .”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get on my good side.”

“Is it working?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Maybe.”

Bucky’s grin softened into something more sincere. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the weight of the war, the mission, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, suspended in this fleeting moment of peace.

He reached up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse quickening. “Bucky…”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re strong, smart, brave… and you’ve got this way of making me forget everything else, even when the world’s falling apart.”

His words broke through the walls you’d spent years building. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, and he met you halfway. His lips were warm and soft against yours, the kiss tender but filled with a quiet intensity. Time seemed to stop as the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady beat of his heart.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were wet with tears. Bucky frowned, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Bucky’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your cheeks. “Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his own tears on his waterline threatening to spill. “Stay. Please stay, for me.”

Your heart shattered at his plea. The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet desperation in his voice—it was almost too much to bear. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew the mission, the weight of your responsibilities, and the secrets you carried. You’d always been a ghost, moving through life without leaving traces behind. How could you let yourself stay, knowing the danger you brought with you?

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, his hands dropping slightly. “Why not? What’s stopping you?”

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. “Because… I don’t get to have this,” you said quietly. “People like me… we don’t get happy endings.”

Bucky stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You deserve this just as much as anyone else.”

You shook your head, your hands trembling. “You don’t understand—if I stay, things could fall apart. I’m not meant to… to put down roots. To belong.”

Bucky reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “If that’s what you’ve been told, they’re wrong. You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Whatever’s weighing on you… let me help.”

You squeezed his hand, your tears falling freely now. “I wish I could. But this isn’t goodbye, Bucky. Not really.”

His grip tightened, his eyes filled with pain. “How do you know?”

You gave him a shaky smile, your heart aching. “Because feeling this… it’s the kind of thing that changes everything. No matter where life takes us, I’ll find you again. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could keep you from slipping away. His breath was warm against your hair, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the impossible. In a different world, maybe you could stay. Maybe you could let yourself love him the way you wanted to.

But for now, you clung to him, memorising the feel of his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat. This wasn’t the end. You wouldn’t let it be.

The fire burned low, its warmth fading, but neither of you moved. Instead, you lay back together on a blanket you’d pulled from the medical tent. The stars stretched endlessly above, their light soft and comforting.

Bucky shifted, his arm wrapping protectively around you as you rested your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding you in the moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence.

“When I was a kid, Steve and I used to sneak up onto the roof of our building,” he said quietly. “We’d lie there, looking at the stars, talking about all the things we were gonna do someday.”

You smiled faintly, imagining a pre-serum Steve beside him, small but full of fight. “What did you talk about?”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and fond. “Steve always had big dreams. He wanted to do something that mattered. Join the army, help people, change the world.” He paused, his voice softening. “Didn’t care that he was too small, too sick. He just wanted to be better, to do better.”

You closed your eyes, the image of Steve Rogers—Captain America—so different now. But to Bucky, he was still that skinny kid with more heart than anyone.

“And what about you?” you asked gently.

Bucky hesitated, his hand absently tracing small circles on your shoulder. “Me? I just wanted to keep him safe. Steve’s always been the brave one. I just… I wanted to make sure he didn’t get himself killed chasing those dreams.”

His words were filled with so much quiet love, it made your heart ache. You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

Bucky smiled, his hand brushing over your hair. “Maybe. But I think you’re the brave one here.”

You rested your head against his chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “We both are.”

The silence stretched once more, comfortable and grounding. The crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the camp blended with the soft rustle of the trees.

Bucky’s voice broke the stillness. “Did you have someone like that?” he asked, his tone thoughtful. “A sibling? A close friend?”

You paused, your mind drifting back. “I didn’t have siblings,” you said slowly. “But I had a friend. Her name’s Natasha.” You smiled softly at the memory, though a hint of sadness crept into your voice. “She was like a sister to me. Strong, stubborn, always looking out for me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “She sounds like someone you could count on.”

“She was,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “We went through a lot together, but… I haven’t seen her in years.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Think you’ll see her again?”

You stared up at the stars, your heart heavy with longing. “I hope so. But with the way things are… who knows?”

Bucky nodded, his thumb brushing over your arm in a soothing motion. “If she’s anything like you, she’s still out there, fighting her own battles. And when the time’s right, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

You swallowed hard, his words offering a comfort you didn’t realize you needed. “I hope you’re right.”

The two of you fell into silence again, but it wasn’t empty. The weight of your shared stories, your losses and hopes, filled the space between you.

As the night deepened, you knew this moment wouldn’t last forever. But for now, you let yourself have it, holding onto Bucky like he was your anchor in a storm you couldn’t escape. Beneath the stars, in the quiet of the night, the war and the mission felt distant, like a different world entirely.

You stood near the edge of the camp, the glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the field. The soldiers of the 107th were regrouping, preparing to move out. You spotted Bucky in the distance, his silhouette unmistakable as he spoke with his men. His voice was calm, commanding, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was ready for the next fight, even if his heart wasn’t.

And so were you.

You adjusted the strap of your satchel, your fingers brushing over the hidden compartment containing the files. This would be your last night here. By dawn, you’d be gone, pulled back to the time you belonged. Everything you’d built here—every connection, every moment—would be left behind.

But Bucky.

He made his way toward you, each step heavy with the knowledge of what was about to happen. When he stopped in front of you, the space between you felt impossibly small yet vast, like an ocean you were both struggling to cross.

“You’re leaving,” he said, his voice low, not a question but a statement, tinged with quiet resignation.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I have to.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with emotions he wasn’t voicing. He looked down for a moment, then slowly reached up, pulling something from around his neck. His dog tags caught the fading light as they dangled from his fingers, the metal clinking softly.

He held them out to you, his hand steady even as his voice wavered. “Take these.”

You stared at the tags, your heart twisting. “Bucky, I can’t—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want you to have them, please”

You hesitated, the weight of the moment settling over you. These weren’t just tags. They were a piece of him, a symbol of his identity, of the man he was here and now. Taking them felt like crossing a line you weren’t sure you could bear.

But when you looked into his eyes, the quiet plea there shattered any resistance you had. Slowly, you reached out and took the tags, the cool metal pressing into your palm. Your fingers curled around them tightly, as if holding onto them would somehow keep him closer.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky gave a small, sad smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly before he let it fall. “Just… promise me you won’t forget.”

Your chest tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with everything you couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much he meant to you, how this short time together had changed something inside you. But the words stuck in your throat, buried under the weight of your mission and the future you knew awaited him.

Bucky reached up, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “You’ve been trained to disappear,” he said softly, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But not from me.”

You choked back a sob, your hands gripping the dog tags like a lifeline. “I’ve never had this before,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

His hand slipped down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Then don’t,” he whispered, begging one last time. “Stay. Please. Stay for me.”

Your heart broke at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through every defense you had left. But you knew you couldn’t. Staying here would risk everything—the mission, the future, his life.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but you know I can’t.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on your hand, his eyes searching yours for something, anything to hold onto. “Why?” he asked, his voice raw. “Why does it have to be like this?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Because this isn’t my time, this isn’t our time” you said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, to beg you to stay again. But instead, he nodded slowly, his hand lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “No matter how long it takes.”

Tears streamed down your face as you gave him a shaky smile. “You won’t have to wait forever.”

With one last, lingering glance, Bucky leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips, the steady presence of his touch, imprinted itself in your memory, a moment you knew you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.

When he pulled back, he let his hand fall, his eyes never leaving yours. “Take care of yourself doll,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You too,” you whispered, clutching the dog tags close to your heart.

And then, with every ounce of strength you had left, you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, knowing that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But with every step, the weight of his dog tags in your hand was a promise—a tether that would guide you back to him.

I could feel you sneaking in, As if you were a mythical thing

[puppym3]

um maybe like the opposite of the felix one? where reader is subby? or maybe like changbin and brat!reader,?

｡･ﾟﾟ･ under the table ･ﾟﾟ･｡

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

dom!changbin x brat!reader

synopsis: you and your boyfriend, changbin, are at a restaurant with the other members. freshly back from a workout, changbin looks irresistibly attractive in a tight shirt that accentuates his toned physique. unable to resist, you let your desire get the better of you, subtly exploring his muscles under the table.

wc: 3k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, bratty needy reader, dom changbin, the reader is horny, reader wants to bite changbin's biceps (me too), teasing, semi-public sex, bondage (restriction with hand), edging, body worship, piv, fingering (f rec.), a lot of dirty talk, reader is called slut, unprotected sex, sex in public bathroom (would not rec...), creampie, (lmk if i missed anything)

a/n: i already have 2 felix fics and no changbin yet, so this is a perfect opportunity to finally write for him <3 ive honestly been dying to write ab him.

idk why but so far this might be my favorite out of all the fics I've written, i hope you guys like it too... ⸝⸝(˵´･⌄･`˵)⸝⸝ ♡

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

It wasn't a rare occasion that Changbin would invite you out with him, he had just finished his workout and you missed him, so you sent him a quick text asking when he'd be free; that's when he invited you to dinner with him and the boys.

When you got to the restaurant, it was bustling with energy as you and the others settled into your seats. The chatter and laughter of patrons filled the air, blending with the aroma of delicious food.

When you finally saw your boyfriend, your breath was taken by the tight shirt he was wearing. You couldn't help but admire how his shirt clung to his frame, perfectly accentuating his muscles.

Your eyes traced the defined lines of his well-toned biceps and chiseled chest, feeling a warmth spread through you. He looked effortlessly handsome, and you were drawn to him more than ever. As the conversation flowed around the table, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than the man beside you.

Under the table at the restaurant, you reached out tentatively, your fingers brushing against his thigh. Changbin didn't react at first, too engrossed in a discussion with Bang Chan about their plans coming up. Encouraged by his lack of response, you let your hand travel up, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt.

Changbin's breath hitched, and he turned to you, his eyes widening slightly. You offered him an innocent smile, your fingers still tracing the contours of his biceps. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, but he didn't push your hand away.

"What do you think?" Seungmin's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back into the conversation.

"Hmm?" you replied, trying to mask your distraction.

"About the dessert menu? Do you have any recommendations?" he repeated, holding out the menu for you to see.

"Oh, right," you said, glancing at the options without really reading them. "The chocolate lava cake is always a good choice."

"I like that one too," Felix chimed in, nodding his agreement. "It's always so gooey and delicious."

You nodded absently, your attention drifting back to Changbin. Your hand was still resting on his thigh, your fingers tracing lazy circles on the fabric of his loose pants. You could feel the tension in his body, the slight tremble of his leg as you explored his body.

He had no idea how badly you wanted to admire his arms up close, to appreciate their strength and size, maybe even take a playful bite of his biceps. But alas, you were in a restaurant with your friends, the true cockblockers, and you had to maintain your composure.

Your eyes flicked up to his face, finding him watching you intently, his eyes looking at you like a warning as if you were passing the red line. Changbin leaned in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. "What are you doing?" he whispered, his tone a mix of amusement and caution.

"Just fully appreciating the view," you whispered back, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze.

His eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and delight, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Behave," he murmured, though his tone was far from reprimanding.

"But if my meal is right in front of me, why wouldn't I eat it?" you pouted, keeping your voice low enough for only him to hear.

He laughed at you, before swatting your hand away and putting his hand on the small of your back. "Later, I'll let you feast on me later," he whispered, causing your face to burn up and look at the ground.

You couldn't help but smile as the conversation shifted again, the others oblivious to the exchange between you and Changbin, but you still couldn't keep your eyes off of his body, the remnants of his workout from earlier still on him making your mouth drool.

"You're staring, they're going to notice you." Changbin's voice brought you back to the present, a small smirk on his lips.

"Staring at what?" Your hand slid up to squeeze his arm, "at this?"

He laughed and shook his head, "you're such a brat," he smiled, his voice a soft whisper.

You could only pout at him, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers along the hard planes of his muscles. It wasn't fair that he could look this good after working out.

You couldn't resist imagining the salty taste of his sweat as you trailed your tongue along his glistening arm. Imagining the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin, leaving a trail of beautiful marks across his sculpted body.

"Stop that," Changbin's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his hand tightening around yours.

"Stop what?" You gave him an innocent smile, your other hand moving up his arm, squeezing his bicep gently.

"I know that look," his eyes narrowed at you, his gaze intense. "We're in public."

"That's never stopped us before," you replied, letting your fingers trace the lines of his muscles. You couldn't help but lean closer, pressing your lips against his ear. "You don't even have to fuck me, just let me touch you," you whispered, your voice dripping with need.

Changbin's breath hitched and he glanced around the restaurant, making sure the others were still engrossed in their own conversations before turning his attention back to you.

"Do I have to restrain you?" He teased, his voice low.

You couldn't help the excitement that shot through you at the thought, your cheeks flushing. "Would you?"

Changbin laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat, his eyes sparkling. "You're a pervert."

You couldn't help but let your mind run, the thought of him restraining you at your wrists while he had his way with you was enough to make your core pulse.

"Changbin," your voice was soft as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You know how much I love when you dominate me," you whispered, feeling his breath catch.

"If you keep this up, I might have to do just that," he warned, his hand squeezing at your thigh.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, excitement bubbling up inside you. "I want that," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before he could reply, a waiter approached your table, and you reluctantly moved away from Changbin, trying to put on a straight face as the others turned their attention to the waiter.

"Are we ready to order?" the waiter asked, a pleasant smile on his face.

The group started ordering, and you tried to focus on the menu in front of you, but your mind was clouded.

"What can I get for you, miss?" the waiter's voice cut through your thoughts, and you blinked up at him, trying to remember what the others had ordered.

"Uh, the, um, the steak salad," you said, fumbling with the menu.

When the waiter finally left, you breathed a sigh of relief, glad that you hadn't gained any suspicion from the members.

"You're lucky you're cute," Changbin smirked, squeezing your thigh gently. "I can't believe you were trying to start something in the middle of the restaurant."

"Who says I was trying?" You feigned innocence, a smirk playing on your lips.

Changbin just rolled his eyes at you, but the playful smile on his lips told you he wasn't mad.

You couldn't shake the feeling of incompleteness in arousing him, fueling your persistence. You were determined to have your way with him, no matter what.

When the food finally arrived, the group settled into their meals, the conversations flowing easily between the boys.

You didn't want to keep yourself in check, not when the man of your dreams was sitting next to you, his body looking delectable. You had no idea what it was about his post-workout appearance, but you were weak for it.

You grabbed his hand, still resting on your thigh, and brought it under your skirt, laying on the heated skin of your inner thighs.

Changbin choked on his drink, the others glancing at him as he coughed, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.

"You okay, Bin?" You asked sweetly, as you slowly guided his hand to your soaked panties.

Changbin cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure. "I'm fine," he said, his voice strained.

You bit back a smile, enjoying the power you had over him. You watched as his gaze traveled down to where his hand was, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

"Baby?" You whispered, pressing his hand against your dampness, watching as his breath caught in his throat.

"I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat again. He was clearly trying to remain composed, but his fingers were twitching, as if he wanted to touch you.

You smiled, letting your gaze drift over the others, making sure they weren't paying attention before continuing to guide his hand.

"You're so wet," Changbin's voice was a low whisper, and you had to bite back a moan.

"It's all your fault." You murmured, a teasing smile on your lips.

He couldn't help but let his thumb caress your pussy, his fingers lightly massaging you. You let out a soft sigh, biting your lip to hold back a whimper.

You weren't sure how long you could last like this, Changbin's touch was making your entire body hum with pleasure. You needed more, and you needed it now.

"Let's go home," you whispered, leaning into him.

"I won't be able to hold back until then," he replied, his voice strained.

You let out a soft laugh, the thrill of being caught spurring you on. "I'm not asking you to," you murmured, your hand sliding over his growing erection.

Changbin stifled a groan, his eyes fluttering shut as you squeezed his hardness. You couldn't help but smirk, reveling in the power you had over him in that moment.

"Meet me in the bathroom." He said, as he discreetly pulled his hand away from you.

You watched as he stood, excusing himself, his gait a little wobbly. The others didn't seem as he slipped away from the table.

You waited a few moments, your heart pounding as you excused yourself to freshen up, trying to appear nonchalant as you headed to the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you felt hands on you, guiding you into one of the stalls.

"You're such a brat," Changbin murmured, his lips finding yours.

"Mm, I'm your brat." You breathed, tugging at his clothes.

"Ah- ah, no touching," he said as he grabbed your hands, holding them above you and squeezing your wrists together his a singular hand. "You're such a slut, you wanted this, didn't you?"

He used his free hand to squeeze at your face as he turned your head, whispering in your ear, "You wanted me to take you right here in this restaurant, huh? In front of everyone? Wanted me to fuck you and fill you up while everyone watches?"

Your breath hitched, a jolt of excitement coursing through you. You were already wet and dripping, aching for his touch.

"Yes," you moaned, grinding your hips against his.

He chuckled, his hand gripping your ass, guiding your movements. "Tell me how bad you want me," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck.

"So bad, so fucking bad," you breathed, arching into him.

"You want me to fill you up? To stuff you with my cock and fuck you until you're a trembling mess?" He was practically growling now, his grip on your ass tightening.

"Please, please," you whimpered, desperate for him.

He smirked, his hand slipping under your shirt, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin.

You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, your hands struggling to break from his hard restraint.

He pulled his hand back, a dark smile on his lips. "No touching. Keep your hands up."

You whined, the heat pooling in your stomach as you watched him unzip his pants, pulling out his thick cock.

"Look at this, just for you, baby. Do you want it?" He murmured, stroking himself.

You could only nod, your mouth watering at the sight of him. He looked delicious, his cock hard and heavy, pre-cum leaking from the tip.

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on your flushed skin and dilated pupils, savoring every detail. "Such a pretty slut," he cooed, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek.

You couldn't help but melt into his touch, the praise going straight to your head. He grinned, his fingers tangling in your hair, giving it a light tug.

"So good," he murmured, his free hand moving to cup your breast, giving it a firm squeeze.

"More," you breathed, arching into his touch.

He smirked, his fingers finding your nipple, giving it a gentle pinch. You whimpered, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"So sensitive," he cooed, his touch becoming more insistent, his thumb rubbing circles around your stiff nipple.

You bit back a moan, your hips bucking against him, desperate for more. He chuckled, his grip on your hair tightening, keeping you in place.

"You like that, hmm? You want me to fuck you? To make you cum all over my cock?" His voice was a low growl, and you couldn't help but shudder, his words turning you on even more.

"Please," you begged, your hands struggling against his restraint.

He smiled, his fingers trailing down your stomach, teasing at the hem of your panties. "How badly do you want me?" He asked, his voice low.

"So bad, I need you," you panted, your body trembling with need.

"Good," he murmured, his fingers pushing past the fabric, finding your slick folds.

You gasped, your body tensing as his fingers explored your wetness, the heat building up inside you.

"God, you're soaked," he groaned, his fingers circling your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through your body.

"Yes, yes," you cried out, your hips bucking against his hand, seeking more friction.

He smirked, his thumb pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you see stars.

You moaned, your head falling back, your hands grasping at nothing but air as he kept his other hand restraining your hands.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his fingers moving faster, his touch relentless. "Such a good slut, begging for me to fuck you."

You whimpered, the coil in your belly tightening as he brought you closer to the edge.

But then, he suddenly stopped his movements, his hand pulling away from you.

"No, no, no," you whined, desperate for release.

"Didn't you want to cum on my cock?" He smirked, his hand reaching up to grasp your chin.

You could only nod, your gaze fixated on his hard length, his pre-cum glistening in the light.

He used his free hand to grip your hip, lifting you and placing your legs around his waist. You couldn't help but whimper as he rubbed his cock against your entrance, teasing you.

"I could take you right here, right now. I could fuck you until you're screaming my name, and everyone would hear. Would you like that? For everyone to know who's making you feel so good?" He murmured, his lips brushing against yours.

"Please, please, I need you," you gasped, the heat burning in your core.

You could barely breathe as he slowly pushed inside you, stretching you and filling you up. You let out a strangled moan, your walls fluttering around him.

"That's it, take all of it," he groaned, his cock sliding deeper inside you, the pressure delicious.

"Changbin," you whined, your body tensing as he started to move, his pace slow and steady.

"So good," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements.

You couldn't help but rock against him, his cock hitting all the right spots.

He smirked, his thrusts picking up, the sound of skin-on skin echoing in the small bathroom. You were close, so close, and he knew it.

"You gonna cum on me?" He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Yes, yes," you panted, your body tensing as he continued to pound into you.

"Do it, cum on my cock, show me how much you love being fucked with my cock," he growled, his hips snapping against yours, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

That's what sent you over the edge, your body shuddering as your orgasm hit, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. You moaned his name, your walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper inside you.

"That's it, so fucking tight, feels so good," he groaned, his cock throbbing as he came deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he filled you with his seed.

You whimpered, your body tingling with aftershocks as you clung to him, trying to catch your breath.

"You're such a good girl," he cooed, his cock twitching inside you, his cum spilling out and dripping down your thighs, his grip on your wrists finally loosening.

You could only moan in response, your mind still hazy from your intense orgasm. He held you close, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

You couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation as he placed gentle kisses on your cheeks and neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You're such a brat, you know that?" He smirked, his hands squeezing your hips.

You trailed your hands over each of his bulging biceps, relishing the opportunity to fully appreciate their sculpted strength.

"But you love it," you teased, leaning forward and kissing his forehead.

"I do," he replied, his hand reaching up and caressing your face. "Now let's get cleaned up before someone comes looking for us."

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

taglist 4 my lovelies: @loverbangchan, @reignessance

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: the final holiday fic! i always love doing a svech family moment and this was beyond fun to write 🥰 and with that, i’ll be quiet on the fic front since i’m a little wiped out lmao. thank you guys for always being so awesome and have a fabulous holiday!! 🤍

word count: 2.2k

tw: domestic fluff

summary: getting all five kids to work together on one project always makes for a memorable afternoon

Andrei drops the grocery bags on the counter, ruffling the recipe printouts with the little gust of air. “I think this is last of it,” he says, frowning as he digs through the bags.

You look up from the notepad you’re scribbling a list on and poke your pen into one of the handles to tug it down. “Oh, good, you got the regular honey Teddy Grahams. The last time we made these, I accidentally bought cinnamon and I thought Al was going to stab me,” you say dryly.

“We don’t want that,” Andrei laughs and kisses the top of your head. He starts unpacking the bags, lining all the ingredients up on the counter. You tick each item off your list as it appears, sighing in relief when everything is marked off.

“Okay, we’ve got all the ingredients for all the cookies,” you sigh, looking up at your husband. “Remind me again why I thought a baking day with all five kids was a good idea?”

Andrei grins and puts two cartons of eggs into the fridge. “Because you’re the best mom,” he replies. “And you want all the babies happy.”

“I’m not a baby!” Dimitri comes stomping into the kitchen. “I’m six!”

He’s wearing a miniature helmet and carrying a mini stick, whacking at the baseboards as he goes. You pin him with a glare, because he knows he’s only allowed to hit the foam pucks or balls with the stick and only in the basement. He looks a little sheepish and holds the stick behind his back.

Andrei leans down to pinch his cheek. “We know you are not a baby, Dimka,” he says, trying to hide his laugh.

“But you’re our baby, always,” you finish. “Evie’s still our baby, even though she’s twelve.”

“Evie’s too bossy to be a baby,” Dimitri grumbles, rushing at Andrei’s legs. Andrei jumps out of the way, laughing, and catches the boy around the waist to pretend fight him. Childish giggles fill the room as they go, knocking into the counters and chairs.

The commotion attracts the rest of your kids and they appear in the kitchen one by one. Alina and Kira appear together, your youngest daughter’s face covered in glitter for some inexplicable reason. You’re not in the mood to question it, but you do wince at the trail of glitter that she leaves in her wake. Alina immediately jumps into the chaos with Andrei and Dimitri, giggling as she distracts Andrei for Dimitri to get a few good whacks in at his legs.

“Mom,” Kira climbs up onto your lap, getting glitter everywhere. “Can I get my letter to Santa back? I wanna add something.”

You internally cringe. It’s a week before Christmas and you finally had the kids send off their letters to Santa a few days ago because he “needs time to make the presents!” and you need time to make sure you got the stuff that was most important off their lists.

A last minute change up could throw a wrench in your carefully plotted and executed plans.

“We sent off the letters, baby,” you remind her, brushing glitter from her eyebrows. “What did you want to add?”

“Oh,” she shrugs and hops off your lap, “I’ll just tell Canes and he’ll tell Santa.”

She disappears into the mess of husband and kids, which now includes Maks, who snuck in at some point when you were talking to Kira.

You try and muffle a groan with your hand. If Kira tells her latest gift wish to Canes - the Elf on a Shelf named for both your husband’s hockey team and candy canes, you’re actually pretty impressed with Evie and Alina for coming up with that one - you’re screwed since the hunk of plastic and stuffing obviously can’t speak.

Somehow, you’re going to have to figure out what’s going on in your middle kid’s brain. You’ll get Andrei and Evie on the case too.

Speaking of, your oldest wanders into the kitchen. She’s tying an apron around her waist, looking at you seriously. “Mom,” she plants her hands on the kitchen table and leans in, “we need to get baking! If we’re going to make cookie boxes for everyone, we’re already behind.”

Your little taskmaster.

You smile at her and tuck a strand of dark blonde hair back into her braid. “Bunny, Dad just got home from the grocery store. We’re going to get started any minute.”

“They don’t look like they’re ready to start,” Evie side-eyes her dad and siblings, frowning.

“They’ll fall in line,” you promise, standing up and tugging at her braid. “Let’s get everything set up in stations, okay? That’ll help.”

Evie doesn’t look like she quite believes you, but she attaches herself to your side and sorts the ingredients by recipe, using all the counter space and the island. When she and Alina had first decided they wanted to do cookies boxes for all of your friends and family, you’d been hesitant to add another heavy lift to your holiday to-do list. Especially when each kid - and Andrei - had insisted on picking their favorite cookie for the box, making it a little more complicated to coordinate at least six different recipes.

Evie had requested gingerbread, the soft kind not the hard kind because the hard kind is gross.

Alina was all in on the most tedious of “cookies” to put together - puff pastry with chocolate and a Teddy Graham made to look like the little bear shaped cookie was sleeping. Your most chaotic child with the most involved project.

You’d had to talk Kira out of the peanut butter cookies she insisted on - reminding her of the peanut allergies that some of your friends’ kids had. She’d compromised on sugar cookies rolled and shaped to look like candy canes.

The boys were easier. Maks insisted on chocolate chip cookies with “lots and lots of chcocolate” and Dimitri wanted the almond snowball cookies you’d made a few times before because he liked how much the powedered sugar puffed out when you accidentally exhaled when eating them.

Andrei had grinned at you as the kids listed out their cookie requests and you’d pinned him with a glare, murmuring, “if you pick something difficult, I’ll never let you in my pants again, I swear to god.”

He’d taken pity on you and picked a relatively simple lemon ginger cookie that you could make in your sleep.

Now, Evie commandeers the kitchen, pointing each of her siblings to a job. They fall in line relatively quickly and without complaint, but you’re sure they’ll get tired soon enough and rebel. For now, you tell Alexa to play a Christmas song mix and get the kids dancing as they help.

Andrei presses a kiss to your cheek, murmuring, “is it normal if I am afraid of our daughter?”

You giggle, Evie really is terrifying when she gets her mind set on something. She plants her hands on her hips and tells Maks he’s pouring the chocolate chips wrong and you have to swoop in before he starts to cry.

“Yes,” you agree quietly. “Totally normal because I am too.”

You pass Maks off to Andrei and your husband swings the five-year-old up onto his shoulders to keep him out from underfoot. He laughs and immediately grabs onto Andrei’s hair, “Dad! It’s like Remy, I’m Remy and you’re Lin-linweenie!”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest at Maks’s mispronunciation. Andrei grins at you and reaches up to tickle Maks’s side. He agrees with your youngest child and goes along with the game, listening as Maks directs him on what to do and correcting every time Maks gives him the wrong direction. You take a few minutes to really appreciate the way Andrei’s back and shoulder muscles move as he works.

He winks at you when he catches you watching.

You work with Dimitri on the snowball cookies, choking briefly on the cloud of powdered sugar he accidentally unleashes from the bag.

“Sorry, Mommy!” he yelps, looking concerned.

“I’m okay, baby,” you choke out, ruffling his hair while you cough into your shoulder. The cloud of sugar hangs slightly in the air and you know it’s going to settle into every crevice of the kitchen.

That’s a problem for a later time.

The girls manage to work together on their dough with minimal drama - of course you get the whine that Evie is bossy and Alina is messy and Kira is getting sprinkles everywhere even though there’s no sprinkles in the recipe. But for the most part, they’re working together nicely, which makes your mom heart really proud.

Like you predicted, they scatter to the wind after a few hours. Alina is the first to go, disappearing with a skip and a grin. Kira follows next, dragging Dimitri with her.

Maks is slumped over Andrei’s head, little hands on Andrei’s cheeks, and you know he has to be getting tired of holding the baby on his shoulders. But Andrei doesn’t say anything, continuing his job of scooping cookie dough out onto the baking sheets while telling Maks some kind of story. It’s really adorable.

Eventually Maks complains and wants to be let down, so Andrei swings him over his head. “There you go, Maks,” he says, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Maks slaps Andrei’s hand in a high-five, which is his latest move when saying hello or goodbye, and runs off into the den, screaming about wanting to watch Remy. The fact that he’s so obsessed with Ratatoille is cute, but you wish it had been a better movie for him to want to watch over and over.

“Dad and I can handle the rest, Eve,” you say to your last child standing. She’s carefully placing the gingerbread cookies an equal distance apart on the baking trays, tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth.

Andrei scoops a bit of raw cookie dough from the bowl and pops it in his mouth. “Yeah, zaychik, now is boring part. Putting trays in and out of oven,” he says, eyeing you in a way you know means he wants some alone time after the chaos of the last few hours with the kids.

“Promise you won’t let them burn?” She turns to face you both. “And you’ll call me when we can decorate?”

“Yes and yes,” you promise, kissing her forehead and brushing a smudge of flour from her cheek. “Go, have fun. Dad and I will handle it. You did such a great job keeping the troops in order.”

She beams at the praise and unties her apron, tossing it over a chair. “I’m going to make cards for all the boxes, okay?” Evie darts off before you can answer and then suddenly, the kitchen is quiet. Your ears are ringing slightly, but you can feel your shoulders relax.

It must show on your face, your relief at the quiet, because Andrei chuckles and opens his arms for you to step into a hug. You bury your face into his chest and inhale the mix of vanilla extract and cologne that’s seeped into his henley.

“I love them,” Andrei chuckles, voice vibrating through your chest. “But they are very loud.”

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement, lifting your face to rest your chin on his chest and look up at him. “But they’re really cute too, right, Linweenie?”

Andrei grins wider, showing off his dimples. “Very cute,” he replies, craning his neck to kiss you quickly.

You hum into the kiss, grinning when Andrei’s hands slip to your ass, squeezing. “You taste like chocolate,” you mumble against his mouth. “Sneaking all that dough is going to make you sick.”

“But who will make sure cookies are good enough for everyone?” Andrei asks cheekily, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, so you’re quality control?” You tease, pulling away from his embrace so you can start loading the trays into the pre-heated ovens.

Andrei scratches at the few days’ growth of stubble on his face and hands you another tray. “Is a risk I’m willing to take,” he says, tone full of faux modesty.

“Our hero,” you joke back, stepping into his personal space again and reaching up to play with the buttons at the top of his henley. “Meanwhile, Kiry mentioned wanting to add something to her letter to Santa, but wouldn’t tell me what. She’s going to tell

Canes.”

Andrei rolls his eyes at the name of the Elf, the whole concept strange and silly to him. But he goes along with it for the kids’ sake.

“I need you to be stealth and figure out what it is,” you continue. “If it’s something small, we make it happen and keep the magic of Santa alive for a little bit longer for her.”

Your husband nods, eyes twinkling in a way that tells you he’s going to go above and beyond to make Kira’s list addition happen, no matter what it is. He’s always gone above and beyond to be the best dad and husband, making magic for your kids every day.

You love him all the more for it.

“Daddy!” Kira’s shout echos through the kitchen. “Come play mini sticks, Alina quit cause she’s losing.”

“Am not!” Alina shrieks.

You laugh and scratch your nails through his stubble. “Go, play mini sticks. I’ve got this,” you tell him.

His kisses you quickly again before jogging off to the den, calling out, “Dad versus kids!”

Their chatter starts almost immediately and you lean against the counter, Christmas music playing and the scent of gingerbread in the air, tired but so in love with your husband and kids.

[captainsophiestark]

Irregular Heartbeat

Bones McCoy x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober, and for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Star Trek

Day Eighteen Prompt: "You always have a plan."

Summary: Bones's SO has a Valentine's Day surprise planned for him that's fit for the CMO of the Enterprise.

Word Count: 1,295

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Jim!"

My best friend, Jim Kirk, whirled around at the sound of my voice, one eyebrow raised. He was incredibly used to me and my shenanigans, so he didn't even look phased as I charged towards him while he waited for the machine to fill his cup with caf.

"I need you to distract Bones for, like, half an hour. Preferably today. And within the next hour," I said, only slightly breathless as I reached him.

"So... you want me to go distract Bones as soon as I get my caf?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Jim grinned at me. "You know I'm in. But care to tell me why?"

"I've got a Valentine's Day suprirse I want to put together for him. It's the first time we've been a couple for the holiday, and I want to do something special."

"And I take it you already have a plan?" I gave Jim a withering look and he just laughed. "Of course. You always have a plan."

"Damn right I do. Now come on, take that caf to go and get out of here. I've got things to do today."

"Alright, alright, I'm going. But next time you pull me away from a rare break to help you with something, it better be for a prank. Not a date."

I grinned. "I think I can commit to that deal."

Jim smirked back at me, then raised his cup of caf in mock salute as he strode out of the cafeteria, off to distract Bones. I paused, letting him get a little bit ahead of me so there was no chance of running into him or my boyfriend on their way out of medical, then quickly made my way through the familiar hallways of the Enterprise.

Luckily for me, when I made it to sickbay (after one brief stop in my quarters), it was almost completely empty. Jim must've been doing as I'd asked in getting Bones out of here, and now, I had exactly the window I needed to pull off my Valentine's Day surprise.

I made my way to one of the heart rate monitors and popped open the back panel, then got to work breaking it the way I wanted to break it. Althought Starfleet Engineering hadn't covered exactly this kind of change to equipment on a starship, it had been a thorough enough course that I had the skills regardless.

Once I finished, I tested my handiwork, then grinned and made everything look like it had before I'd showed up. Finally, I snuck the bouquet of fresh roses I'd managed to secure on our last shore leave out of my bag, tucking them behind the pillows of the bed. I paused to take one last look at my setup, then took off out of sickbay with a grin. Not a moment later, I heard Jim's voice echoing loudly down the corridor, clearly trying to give me a heads up about his return with Bones.

I hid around the corner while Bones and Jim said their goodbyes, then waited for Jim's footsteps to fade in the opposite direction before turning the corner and reentering sickbay.

"Hey," I said, a small smile on my face as I found Bones just outside his office. "Happy Valentine's Day."

He'd had a slight frown on his face when he'd first turned around, but it dissolved the moment he saw me.

"Hey yourself. Happy Valentine's Day." He took a few steps closer to me, a faint smile growing on his face as he approached. "What brings you in? I wasn't expecting to get to see you until tonight."

"Actually... I'm feeling a little rough. I was hoping you could check me out."

Bones narrowed his eyes. "...Is this a bad pickup line?"

"What? No!"

He held up his hands in surrender, then gently stepped forward and took my elbow.

"Alright. Valentine's Day and all, I had to check. Let's get you on a bed."

"And you're talking to me about bad pickup lines?"

Bones snorted, and I grinned. I didn't wait for him to direct me to a bed, and instead I headed straight for the one I'd just finished modifying. Bones didn't even bat an eye at my decision, instead following me over and carefully getting me hooked up to the various monitoring machines.

"Do you want to tell me about your symptoms?" he asked as he worked. I sighed.

"I don't know, I just haven't been feeling well. A little lighthearted, a little fluttering in my chest."

I expected Bones to make another bad pickup line comment, but clearly, he'd switched into doctor mode. He just hummed as he continued to work.

"And what's been your food and water to caffeine ratio so far today?"

I grunted. "Food, water, and no caffeine so far, thank you very much."

Bones just gave me a look, which I couldn't really argue. Too much caffeine and not enough other, better fuel had been the cause of me not feeling good before, and we both knew it.

"Well, let's see what we can see here, hm?"

I barely managed to fight back a giddy smile as Bones turned to look at the monitor read out, including the heart rate monitor. What he found, instead of the normally reading beeping line, was the green line tracing the shape of a (non-anatomical) heart. I snuck my hand behind my pillow to retrieve the roses while Bones blinked at the display in shock.

"My god... what is..." He glanced from the monitor to me, then got halfway through turning back to the monitor before stopping to stay on me and my roses. His wide eyes and slightly-open mouth were instantly replaced with a squint and a frown. "What did you do to this monitor?"

"I made it cute for Valentine's Day!" I replied. I held out the roses to him, but before I could get through another word, he'd crossed his arms and fixed me with a glare.

"I thought something was seriously wrong, either with you or with my highly-sophisticated medical equipment, which is essential to the health and safety of this crew. What if we'd had an emergency situaiton before you could fix this, or even tell me about it?"

I sighed.

"I hear you, baby, but come on. I made sure the odds of that were crazy low, it's one monitor, and I made the whole thing easy to fix."

"Easy enough that a non-engineer who didn't know the machine had been tampered with could fix it?"

"Yes."

Bones raised an eyebrow, so I sighed, and used my free hand to give the machine a nice hard whack. Theoretically, the same one a stressed and confused medical professional would give it in the heat of the moment.

It beeped, then the readout changed back to the normal, boring heart monitor readout. I turned back to Bones with a look.

He sighed. "Fine. But you still scared me when I saw that coming up as a readout of your heart beat."

"Just take the roses and get M'benga to cover the end of your shift. This is just the first Valentine's surprise of the day."

Despite himself, a smile clawed its way onto my boyfriend's face. I grinned back at him. I knew he couldn't hold out here much longer.

"Alright, fine," he said, taking the roses out of my hand and leaning in to give me a kiss. I leaned up and into it, bringing one hand up to rest at the nape of his neck. After a long, sweet moment, he pulled back. "I'm all yours until dinner tonight."

"What happens at dinner tonight?"

"Then it's my turn to take over with the Valentine's planning. I put together a nice dinner for the both of us, and as a bonus, it won't give either of us a heart attack."

I laughed and leaned up to kiss him again.

"Sounds perfect to me."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

[bangaveragewhitewine]

I'm yours, all yours

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, established relationship) 

October 1991

It’s been over two months since you kissed Eddie Munson in the back alley of the dive bar you both work in. You had barely stopped kissing him ever since.

An autumn afternoon together shows you a little bit more of the man you’re falling in love with.

Word Count: 6.2K

Content / Warnings: Contains the main food groups - fluff, smut & hurt+comfort. Reader has some self doubt / anxious thoughts. This is 18+ - if you are not 18+ hit the back button and read something else. Oral (m receiving, minor f receiving), p-in-v sex. Feeeeelings. Eddie & Reader are mid twenties. Reader written as AFAB using fem pronouns.

This is best enjoyed after reading their origin story crazy-mad for you (part of the Happy Hours series)

Author’s note: I’m planning to follow CMFY with some one-shots from throughout Eddie & Bartender’s relationship. I have some loose ideas but this one came from a deleted scene I couldn’t squeeze into the main fic so reworked it! Beta’ed by @specialagentmonkey (theee best)  Thank you for the love on CMFY! Reading your replies and reblogs and tags made my shitty wee brighter. Hope you enjoy this cosy peek and have a gorgeous day 🖤

It’s been over two months since you kissed Eddie Munson in the back alley of the dive bar you both work in. You had barely stopped kissing him ever since. Every moment your lips aren’t on each other is like a thousand paper-cuts to Eddie’s heart (so soft inside the facade of Mean Metalhead he has curated for himself). He makes you want to write his name next to yours in pink gel pen, framed with sparkly little hearts. 

Two months and counting with Eddie and you learn something new about him every day; he loves tattoos but needles make his stomach twist, he meets his friend Steve once a month for a dude-date breakfast (but sees as much as he can of him and his other friends when their schedules line up), he sings with his band but needs at least five drinks before karaoke.

When you ask questions, when you're curious, he tells his long and meandering stories with wandering tangents which tell you so much about the man you’re falling in love with. He opens up to you, tells you things very few people know - about his mom, how he ended up with his Uncle Wayne. It hasn’t been long, but you already can’t wait to meet him.

Two whole months (closer to three really) and you’re sure you don’t want to ever have a single day without Eddie in your life, and your bed. And yet you still haven’t asked the question that has been on your mind since before you two ever got together. 

It’s October now; Autumn is here and the city has turned chilly. Sweltering summer nights are no longer and you and Eddie have been spending afternoons and late nights when you’re not working watching your favourite horror films. When he had told you how much he loved Halloween - just as much as you, if not a wee bit more - you knew Eddie Munson was the one. 

It’s Friday, late afternoon and you had reluctantly spent the night in your own apartment. The shame radiating from the mountain of laundry in the corner of your room had become too powerful to ignore and so you had forgone a night of being held and loved-on to tackle it and the other life-admin you had been ignoring. Eddie had suggested staying at your place, but you knew he would distract you too much with his kisses and touches (which he doled out generously whenever you were near). 

You had missed your boyfriend terribly, almost like a missing limb or a gorgeous big parasite (affectionate) that you had grown more than fond of. Eddie had the night off work but still drove you to and from the bar, even stayed for a drink until Frank shooed him away for trying to distract you. You had missed him so much that you had kept him on the phone to talk a little longer when he got home before saying goodnight and promising you would see him before your shift together tomorrow. You had spent nights apart before, days and nights when you or Eddie had clashing schedules but you felt his absence more than ever today. 

Your laundry and errands had never been completed with such efficiency as when you had the motivation of seeing Eddie as soon as they were ticked off your to-do list. 

You arrived at his door and buzzed the intercom for his apartment, laden down with an overnight bag (over-weekend really) and Tupperware containers full of homemade soup and lasagna for before your shift at Jackie’s. Your cheeks are warm and you can feel heat prickling under your arms alongside the swelling of anticipation in your chest. Eddie buzzes you in and comes to meet you, a big grin on his face for his girl.

His hair is up in a messy bun, held in place by a black velvet scrunchie you insisted was his now. He looks cosy in sweats, a tank top and his red and black flannel which you know to be softer than soft. Eddie hadn’t even bothered with shoes, braving the stairs in his socks so that he could see you sooner. You match his smile when you catch sight of him; cosy Eddie is far from the leather-jacketed bouncer you had got to know.

When he sees how many bags you’re carrying, he rushes to lighten your load (doesn’t even skid on the tiles). 

“You walked here with all that?! I could’a picked you up!” he said, shouldering your overnight bag before blessing you with a kiss. 

“It’s like two blocks, not a marathon.” You roll your eyes at him but pout for another kiss anyway as he rings for the elevator. 

Eddie will never refuse you a kiss. He pecks little smooches to your smile as it grows wider. “I missed you last night.”

“I missed you too.” You nudge his cheek with your nose, pecking at it like a little bird as the lift arrives; you step in ahead of him, pressing the button for the third floor with your now free hand. 

He asks if you slept okay (not as well without him, but you don’t say that) and tells you about the bag of free bagels he scored as a thank you from the man who ran the deli a few doors down. The guy’s hand-truck had lost a wheel while he was taking in a delivery that morning and Eddie helped him out, fixed the wheel too. He knew how much you loved the bagels from there and it felt fateful that his reward was a bag of your favourite everything bagels.

“Neighbourhood hero,” you sing, following him into his one-bedroom flat. “Is there anything you can’t do?” 

“Trigonometry. French. Um… skateboarding!” he lists, as he drops your bag inside his bedroom door. “I fucking suck at skateboarding.”

The thought of Eddie on a skateboard makes you smile - definitely a little meanly, what a dork - but you store that one for later. 

The bag of Tupperware barely makes it to the kitchen counter before Eddie’s arms are around you,  pulling you back against his chest. His nose presses into the base of your neck, huffing hot breaths against your sweet-smelling skin before kissing up his well-worn path. 

“I really missed you,” he murmurs, hips nudging forward against your jean-clad behind for emphasis. 

“Missed me or missed getting your dick sucked?” you ask, turning your head to look at him. 

“Both. Mainly you.” His grin is impish as you turn to loop your arms around his neck, backed right up to the wiped-clean Formica. You let him lift you onto the counter so that he can stand between your spread knees. 

“I missed you and your dick, so we’re even. And we have the whole weekend together to get reacquainted, huh?” You twist a loose curl around your finger, tugging to watch it spring and coil.

Eddie feels like a swooning maiden when he’s the centre of your attention like this, being flirted with. He loves it and he knows he’s in love with you. He had fallen first, long before you had even realised your banter at work was more than just that. 

His fingers creep up your thighs, the silver glinting at you as you place your focus on making up for a night apart as you make out in his little kitchen. 

Eddie smells shower-fresh, clean with a hint of spice, and the curls at the base of his neck are still a little damp. He shivers, giggling against your mouth when you run your finger down his spine. “Your nails are tickly,” he says with a pretend scowl. 

You know he loves your nails on his back; when they’re digging in like claws to leave him littered with red scratches, and when they’re tickling up and down in soothing strokes as he’s falling asleep. 

He takes your hand and brings it around to see the fresh coat of deep red on your nails. “You painted them!” he says, his nose scrunches cutely when you poke it. 

“I did. The black was getting chipped and gross.” You brought the black polish anyway in case he wanted to try it out again, thrown somewhere in your make-up bag. 

Eddie rests his chin on your chest; your breasts have become his favourite place to lay his head, closely followed by the squishy pillow of your thigh (there’s a third-place tie between your tummy and your butt). You dot kisses to his forehead beneath the shaggy bangs, trailing up into his hair when he presses his face against your soft sweater.

“Eddie?”  “Hmm.” His voice is muffled.  “You hungry?”

His head turns so you can hear him more clearly, “Hungry for you.” 

Hopeful mischief twinkles in his hot-chocolate eyes when he peers up at you. 

“Horndog.” “Yes?”  “Gross boy.” “Unh, yes. Say more dirty things to me, baby.”

He has a look of hammed-up ecstasy on his face, scrunched brow and bitten lip. Even though you know he’s pretending, it makes the horny cavewoman part of your brain think about his face when he is actually deep inside you or desperate for your touch - it makes your tummy feel like lava. One night apart makes you realise just how bad you’ve got it for him. You shove at his head and Eddie leans back with a throaty giggle before squeezing your hips again. 

To balance out your playful push and satiate the need building in your gut, you pull him in for a kiss - open-mouthed with the dirty slide of tongue that sounds loud in your ears. Your legs wrap around him, arms tighten. 

“Carry me?” “Bed?” “Sofa, bed. Wherever.”  “Potato, tomato.” “Eddie.” 

He sweeps you off the counter - you’re still surprised and impressed at his strength until you remember him lifting the barrels and kegs at work. You reward him with distracting kisses as he carries you to the soft brown couch and smile up at him when he lays you down gently. He forgets about gentle as he removes his shirt and pounces on you, resuming your dirty kisses from the kitchen. 

Merlot-red nails push the hem of Eddie’s tank top up his pale back, slipping beneath to pull him tighter to you between your thighs. You can already feel him growing hard; you nip at his lower lip and kiss away the sting. 

“Sit up for a sec.” You tap his side but Eddie needs to kiss you just a little bit more before he can pull himself away. 

“Where you goin’?” he asks, a little breathless. Blown-black pupils eat up the brown warmth with his voracious want; he watches as you sit up on your knees and pull your cosy sweater off, then the white vest beneath, leaving you in your creamy silk bra and blue jeans. 

“Pretty,” Eddie whispers, his fingers brushing the little bow between your breasts. He was in awe of your little collection of bras, the matching underwear too. He even loved you in the cotton comfy pants that hugged just right when your cramps ached. 

“Sit back against that end. And take your pants off, handsome.” You smile when he stares at you, “Do you need help?” 

Eddie barely shakes his head as he wriggles out of his sweatpants and sits where you told him to. You balance each other out, taking turns to take the lead. You’re still learning, and despite Eddie’s non-academic tendencies, he’s studious and dedicated to learning what you like, where and how to touch you. You’re his favourite subject and he’s yours too.

You smile and knee-walk across the chasm between you, situating yourself between his legs to take his face in your hands and kiss him. He makes a small joyful noise when you begin to kiss down to his jaw and nuzzle at the dusting of stubble. 

“Smell good,” you murmur, teasing delicate skin with your teeth before bestowing him sucking a wet kiss, enough to leave just a hint of a bruise there. It makes Eddie groan quietly, a desperate little noise at the back of his throat. He’s louder when you slip your fingers down his chest and into the waistband of his black boxers - they have little skulls on them. 

“Cute,” you run your thumb over the elastic at the top as your knuckles brush his cock. Almost an echo of Eddie’s assessment of your bra moments ago. 

Hips push up, almost like an electric shock. There’s a tiny noise that you just about hear, deep back in his throat, a quiet grunt as Eddie covers your hand and shows you what he needs. His pretty lashes flutter as you look at each other, sparking fire in your gut again. You smile and move your hand away, halting his protest by pulling the black cotton down his thighs to drop them on the floor. 

You can feel saliva pooling under your tongue when you see him - you really did miss him, all of him, while you were apart. He’s thick and a few centimetres over average length; a nice dick (rare and wonderful) and he knows what to do with it to leave you brainless and whimpering. Eddie gets one more kiss before you make yourself comfy, lying on your tummy between his legs. Little kisses are peppered on his hairy thighs, over the black and shadow of ink, before you take him in your hand, then your mouth. 

Eddie is in awe of how pretty you look like this, how your lashes kiss your cheekbones and the stretch of your lips (he goes a little crazy if you’re wearing lipstick too, really gets him going). His breath comes hard through his nose as you tongue the head of him, press against the thick vein before taking as much as you can into your mouth. 

“Shit,” he growls, feeling your nails on his thigh as you begin to bob your head steadily. His hips and thighs tense and spread a little wider, needy, as he keeps himself in check. Your other hand holds the base of him, what you haven’t yet tried to fit into that pretty mouth. 

“Look at my girl, so gorgeous,” he murmurs, smiling when your lashes flutter. His girl. “So pretty.” 

You hum affirmative, taking more in when his head tips back to show off his pale throat and the little mark you left behind. His jaw tenses, twitches and you begin the slow bob of your head again. You look up past your lashes, watching his brow crease when you take him all the way. 

“Shit shit shit,” his voice is a breathy growl that bleeds into a louder moan when he sees you looking up at him - his devil woman. “You’re going to kill me someday with that mouth, huh?” he says. The shake in his voice betrays him as he tries to act a little smooth, a little more together as you’re taking him apart. 

You bob your head, imitating a nod, and bring your hand down to squeeze and roll his neglected balls for good measure. That makes him howl and he covers his face with his arm while you let that playful hand take over so you can catch your breath. 

“Y’okay?” you ask, resting your cheek against his thigh as you move your hand a little faster. 

“Mhmm, peachy,” he replies, eyes a little wild. You love the pink blush on his usually pale cheeks, love knowing that he’s like this because of you. 

Eddie strokes your cheek as you take the head of him back between your lips, a tender little caress of his thumb that makes you close your eyes and lean in. You feel hot and slick between your legs, push your hips to the sofa cushion just a little to temper the ache. 

He catches the little motion and his jaw drops a little - it clears his head just a little, zeroing in on you through his haze of arousal. “Oh my girl feelin’ needy too?” he asks, thumb pushing gently against your cheek.

You move your mouth off of him and nod, turning your head to kiss his palm. “Told’ju I missed you.” 

Eddie’s grin can’t be contained. “C’mere then.” His hands run over your back, coaxing you into his lap. 

Once you have rid yourself of your jeans and underwear you take up your throne on Eddie’s thighs. Your appetite for each other meant that he had started storing condoms in practically every room - there's a fresh box on the coffee table, bought that morning after he saw how low the reserves were. 

Your arms wind around his neck, pressing yourself against Eddie as he kisses you again. Fingers drift between your legs, feeling just how slick you are for him - a combination of missing him and seeing the effect of your mouth on his face. You feel his smile against your mouth as you seek a deeper dirtier kiss, sucking that plump lower lip between your own. 

One guitar-string scarred finger is joined by a second, rubbing slow firm circles that make you moan into his mouth. They press inside and his thumb takes up that slow wet rub, pulling more little needy noises from your lips as you take him back into your hand.

Hands and wrists cramp easily at this angle and you take a moment to pull back, biting your kiss-bruised lip before turning around on your hands and knees to present yourself to Eddie. Peeking over your shoulder with a cheeky smile, you see how his eyes blaze before grabbing for the box of Durex. You hide your grin against your arm when you hear him swearing at the plastic wrapping, calling the box ‘a fuckin’ shitbag’ when his nails struggled for purchase against it. There’s a tiny ‘yes!’ when he finally breaks in and you laugh quietly at you listen to the familiar tear-open of foil. 

On his knees, he bends to kiss the rounds of your ass, then dips lower to taste you just once. “Fuckin’ so sweet,” he murmurs, wishing he had the willpower to not follow his dick that afternoon and dive into you instead - but there’s always later. 

You gasp-giggle at the feeling of his tongue and rock back when you see him line himself up. “Please?” Your lips push into a playful pout, “Show me how much you missed me?” You love winding him up like this.

One side of his mouth curves up as he holds your hip, rubs the head against you to play you at your own game before pushing all the way in. Your jaw drops open, feeling full as Eddie rocks his hips minutely. You can feel him pushed right up against you inside and out, his thighs against the back of yours before he begins a deep dragging thrust.

“Shit, you feel good,” he murmurs, stroking your hip lovingly. “That’s it, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You nod, hating that you can’t see him despite how good this angle is for you both. “Eddie,” you whimper, feeling yourself flutter around him.

“Yeah, that’s who’s making you feel good, sweet thing. I’ve got you.” He squeezes your hip, the silver of his rings biting into the doughy softness as he watches his length disappear inside you over and over as he begins to get quicker and harder with his thrusts. 

Your eyes nearly roll back as he pounds into you, fingers gripping the arm of the couch - it’s about the only thing keeping you up as Eddie fucks you and runs his mouth. It feels so good you can barely speak. 

“That’s my girl. Going all cock-dumb on me?” he asks, squeezing the meat of your ass a little harder, watching it jiggle and bounce with his thrusts. “I’ll make you feel good like this every day if you let me. S’what you deserve, getting fucked like you need, huh?” 

Your answering moan is spurred on not only by his words but the graze of his length on your g-spot. “Eddie, god! Yes, right there,” your voice is a babble, the words running into each other ‘yesrigh’there’ as it becomes the only thing you can say. 

The pulsing gush around him, hot wet heat, makes Eddie moan with you. “I know, baby. I know.” His back teeth press together as he holds on, the cord of pleasure pulled tight in his pelvis. The slapping pounding sound fills the room but he can only hear you, almost crying with pleasure. 

“Close,” you murmur, slumped forward a little more. The angle arches your back, pulls Eddie deeper. Your groan is shaky, broken with want. 

“Me too, baby. Got me so wound up,” he murmurs. “Can you touch yourself for me?” He watches your hand move back between your legs, feels the graze of your fingers as you bring yourself closer, small tight circles that sync up with his punishingly good pace. 

“Fuck! Eddie,” you whimper, feeling the inferno in your belly burn bright and hot as you see stars, tears springing as you come hard. 

“Shit shit, that’s my girl. Oh yeah, fuck,” he grinds out,  continuing his thrusts as your body shakes with pleasure. Eddie folds over you, wrapping his arms around you to bring you back into his lap like a rag doll. He can’t bear to not be as close to you as humanly possible as he nears his own orgasm, mouth pressed to your neck to kiss and pant against it as he hammers into you. 

His fingers trail down, finding a quick rhythm that brings you to a shock of a second climax, shorter but no less intense than the first. You feel boneless, yet manage to pull his hand away when it becomes too much, holding his arm around your middle as the other curls up and loops around his neck. Your lips find their way to Eddie’s jaw, pressing wet kisses there. Your eyes are heavy, and yet you see the moment he falls apart. 

His eyes close, face creasing in beautiful blissful agony as he comes holding you in his lap, your name on his tongue. 

Your chest feels heavy, breath synced up as your fingers stroke up against his scalp, past the flyaways. He kisses you messily, so slow and without the same hurry he had mere moments ago. 

Your noses brush against each other’s warm cheeks, lazy smiles pressing kisses as hands smooth and caress wherever is in reach. You feel fuzzy around the edges, warm all over with Eddie plastered to your back. You would both gladly overheat to stay like this a bit longer. Eddie’s lean arms are the only thing holding you together right now, grounded syrupy-sweet kisses that bond the broken bits back into place. 

“Wanna see my girl,” he murmurs after a few moments mouthing at your shoulder, “Easy, babe.” Eddie’s hands on your waist help you to move from his lap, unsheathing him from your body. He wraps the condom in a tissue before lying back, inviting you into his arms with grabby hands.

You bring the blanket from the back of the sofa with you when you lie against his chest, sharing love-drunk kisses as you bask in the glow of each other. 

It’s bright-cold outside the steamed-up windows; the afternoon sun lights the room. His neighbours will surely hate you, but when Eddie strokes his tongue against yours you forget to care.

You brush his sweaty bangs away and press a kiss to the centre of his forehead before resting your head against his chest, tucked under his chin as his hand finds yours. He kisses your knuckles and smiles down at you. 

“Y’okay?” he checks, rosy-cheeked bright-eyed and deliriously happy. Sometimes he feels the need to pinch himself when he realises the woman he had been pining for is now his girlfriend. One time you had been lying together smoking and watching a rerun of Twin Peaks and he had actually asked you to pinch him - his nipple had ached for the rest of the night but at least he knew it was all real. And you had kissed it better. 

Now you smile lazily up at him, real and cosy in his arms. “Never better,” you promise. Your nose scrunches when he kisses it and calls you his little bunny to make you laugh. 

Eddie lights a cigarette and holds it to your lips when you’re too comfy to move. It brings you both back to the real world, back from the plain of absolute bliss. It’s quiet, neither feeling the need to fill the comfortable silence until your curiosity gets the better of you. 

“Where’d you get them?” you ask, lifting your joined hands to finally speak the question you have been meaning to ask. Your fingers slot between Eddie’s, palm to palm, as you admire the silver.

“Been kinda building a little collection since school. Thrift shops mainly.” Eddie shrugs one shoulder; he’s careful not to jostle you too much as you lie against his chest. He pauses to catch a fallen eyelash on your cheek, holding it out to you to blow away. You smile a little and lift your head to wish for a thousand more afternoons like this. 

“I have two nice ones; my friends pooled together for a graduation present for me, and the other one, this one,” Eddie shows you his right middle finger, a harmless flip-off to show you the black enamel heart with wings that he always wears. It’s smaller, less outrightly demonic than the others. The rest of his rings are swapped out, usually a lucky dip into a little dish on his bedside table, but this one stays on. “Bought this one for myself when the band went on tour. Something to remember, y’know?” 

You had heard about Corroded Coffin’s big opportunity last year, playing a few dates as an opening act for a bigger metal band. Your thumb runs over the warm metal as he begins to speak again.

“It was the last day of tour and I was so fuckin’ tired. We were kinda convinced that we were going to be discovered or something, and the crowds really liked us but… it didn’t happen how we had planned.”  

You expect to hear sadness in his voice but there is none. Maybe a hint of resignation that their dream hadn’t become reality.

“Me and Gareth had a fight on the last morning, both of us were hungover as fuck and antsy because it was all going to be over in a few hours. So I stormed off to get breakfast and clear my head, or get more fucked up.” Eddie’s little smile doesn’t meet his eyes; they look a little bit more glossy than usual. “It was my Mom’s birthday and I felt like shit. I would say I found this little jeweller-silversmith place but I think it found me.”

You squeeze Eddie tighter, feeling like he’s letting you see a whole new part of him. A beautiful little sentimental part that houses and holds dear the other woman he loved and the little boy he was when he lost her.

“It was way more money than I should have spent on something so small, but it felt right I couldn’t leave it behind y’know? I went in and it was right there.” His eyes sparkle as he remembers that feeling of all-over calm he felt that day in the little shop. “Went back and apologised to Gare and we played the last show, definitely our best one.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his mouth, “That’s a sweet story, Ed. Thank you for telling me.” Your voice is a whisper against his pillowy lips; you kiss those lips again and feel the silver against your cheek as Eddie kisses you back. Your chest feels like it could burst and there’s an annoying pressure at the back of your eyes. 

“You’re gonna laugh at me but..” Eddie rolls his eyes and leans his head back against the arm of the sofa. He figures out his words before speaking again. “It’s like, everything happened for a reason - we didn’t get a big break but we’re all happy. Gareth got into art school, Jeff moved out of his Mom’s place and… I met you.”

Silence. 

His honesty winds you, it hits you so hard in the chest that you can barely fathom the flurry of feelings like wings battering your chest from the inside. Your lower lip wobbles. Eddie is dead serious too; you know he’s not saying it to be playful. He has so much love in his battered heart and it oozes from him.

Eddie was expecting you to scoff or roll your eyes, call him ‘soft boy’ or something. Maybe a very small part of him thought you might brush him off (he didn’t let himself dwell on that bit). He certainly wasn’t expecting the teary look in your eyes. 

“Shit, baby.” He thumbs your cheek and pouts back at you, pressing the sweetest kiss to your lips; so sweet and slow like the maple syrup you have been adding to your coffees now that it’s Fall. “I mean it. If things went differently, if I didn’t come back, I wouldn’t have met the sexy new bartender, huh?”

You smile, laugh a little wetly and try to blame the post-sex rush for being weepy. “I guess I’m a little bit glad you came back to be annoying. Super selfish of me.” 

You can’t help but think that there might be some parallel universe where you’re still shaking cocktails in Jackie’s but Eddie’s on stage opening for Metallica, Corroded Coffin at the top of the charts. With that thought comes a deep-sinking feeling that maybe someday you might not be enough and he will want that rockstar life; groupies, supermodels, a pretty blonde actress on his arm.... Not you. 

Eddie kisses you again and pulls you close, cocooning the pair of you in the blanket. You find his hand to kiss the black enamel heart before resting your head, cheek to chest. 

You have never felt so in love, nor have you felt so scared. Eddie feels lighter now that he has said out loud the thought about fate that has been rattling around his skull for too long. He feels your arms wrapping tighter around him, like he might disappear. 

He presses his smiling lips fiercely to the crown of your head. “What’s goin’ on in here, huh? I can hear that big brain thinkin’ up a storm.” He thinks over everything he said; was he coming on too strong?

“I just really really like you, Ed,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. Telling him that felt so easy; maybe if you weren’t being sucked into an internal doom spiral you could play it up and roll your eyes, pretend it was icky to like him.

“Yeah? I really really like you too.” Your admission makes his heart sing; Eddie tries to temper his smile but can’t. He won’t pretend he’s not head over heels for you, he’d give you a vital organ if you needed it - hell, his heart was already yours. 

He cups your cheek again, coaxing you to look at him. “What else? You’re like… a scared little bunny right now.” He concentrates all his love into how he’s holding you as if it could be transferred like magic from his fingertips. 

“I just...” 

He doesn’t force you to go on when you hide your face in his chest, feeling so stupid for being emotional. Your eyes burn, and he wishes he could be whatever you need right now. He’s not used to seeing his bossy flirty girl so unsure of herself; it makes him love you a little more. He looks up at the ceiling and squeezes your body gently.

“Hey. You don’t have to say anything, just listen okay? I’m serious about you, about... Everything I feel for you.” His voice shakes minutely but he takes a moment, stroking your back to centre himself. “I’m not going to up and leave someday to be a rockstar without you. I need you. Okay? You’re my girl. Best thing that’s happened to me in so so long.” Eddie presses a fiercely loving kiss to your head. “I’m yours, all yours.” 

A tiny shaky sob escapes your throat, leaving you embarrassed. “I’m your girl,” you nod, looking up to see Eddie’s sentimental smile, his wet brown eyes. Your voice is thin and wobbly, like a broken pencil. “I’m so fuckin’ happy with you, Eddie.” 

Neither of you says it, but ‘I love you’ is woven into your confessions, binding you together as you share that moment on Eddie’s squishy, comfy sofa. 

You tilt your head to exchange teary-wet kisses, wobbly smiles on your lips as you begin to feel calmer.

“My baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t bottle shit up, okay? Doesn’t help.” He cups your face, wiping the last stray tears from your cheeks and presses kisses there as a balm. 

“I know. I feel stupid for getting upset, it’s like so early for us..” You look down at his chest, trace the black ink you can reach before looking at his pretty face. You know it’s so early, so why get ahead of yourself when Eddie’s already made you a promise? You take a breath, close your eyes and focus on what you really want, “When can I come to see Corroded Coffin play?” 

Eddie grins, laughs a little throaty. They had taken a little break after tour, played a few bars in the Spring to make sure they didn’t rust up. With Gareth settled back in college, they were ready to get back into it. 

“We’re trying to get a gig for the end of the month. Andy knows a guy putting on a night close to Halloween. Jeff’s the organised one though, I’ll check with him tonight.” He kisses your head and smiles. “I gotta get you a shirt, huh?”

“Mhm, yes please. I heard the lead singer is so hot,” you say, smiling a little when he makes a happy noise deep in his throat. “Might throw my bra on stage if he’s as good as they say…” The thought of seeing your man on stage - your man - makes your tummy flutter. 

“Yeah? Shit, lucky guy.”  

You look up at Eddie and move yourself to rest your forehead against his. “The luckiest. I’m the luckiest girl though.” You mean it too, sealing it with a kiss. 

Eddie cups the back of your head, pressing the loveliest kisses to your mouth. “Lucky fuckers,” he murmurs. You trade kisses back and forth, chasing lazy happy smiles for ‘just one more?’ until you need to move.

“Can I shower? Feel sweaty.” Your time together before work is already ticking away, though you’ve made excellent use of it so far. 

“Can I come watch? I mean wash your back?” he asks, walking his fingers down your spine with a coy little smile. 

“You just want to see soapy boobs,” you tut, looping your arms around his neck as he sits up, taking you with him. 

“What guy doesn’t want to see soapy boobs?” he asks, incredulous at the thought. 

You kiss the corner of his mouth, humming in agreement, “You still got that disposable camera?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide - you half expect his heart to beat out of his chest, eyes on stalks like a babbling cartoon. “Yes ma’am.” 

He dumps you off his lap onto the sofa to root for the camera in his room. The sound of his sweary search carry down the hall as you laugh up at the ceiling.

You love him. You absolutely love Eddie Munson. He’s very easy to love. 

Later, when you’re showered clean (a process which required getting just a little bit dirty again with Eddie worshipping you on his knees in the shower) and full-bellied after the dinner you had brought, you and Eddie get ready for work side-by-side in his room. 

You’re putting mascara on in his mirror, humming to Queen despite Eddie’s protests, when you hear him call your name. 

“Mhm?” 

Eddie’s dressed in a black Henley and some jeans - his leather boots and jacket to go on next. You see the glint of silver around his neck as he nods for you to join him on the bed. 

“Help me pick what rings to wear?” he asks, voice soft and tentative. 

Your heart skips and you nod, crossing the gap to perch on his lap as you pick three more for him to wear - an upside-down cross, a very mean-looking skull, a silver signet ring with ‘EM’ engraved (the gift from his friends for graduation). 

He lets you choose where they go and watches as you slip them onto his long fingers. “Perfect,” he murmurs, linking your hands together. 

“Pretty damn perfect,” you agree, kissing the back of his hand so he will show you that bright and beaming grin. 

You love him, you love him, you love him. And Eddie? He already can’t wait to put a ring on your finger. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

[dianneking]

The Affair - Chapter 1 (Larissa/Reader)

Hiya! As part of my weekly writing challenge, I wrote this chapter over two writing sessions, and I chose not to wait for the fic to be finished before posting. It'll probably be a couple of chapters all together.

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature

Tags: Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Infidelity, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader.

Link to AO3 in the title

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The Affair - Chapter 1

Waiting in the snow for a married woman , you thought, moodily pulling your scarf up to cover your freezing nose as yet another car passed, how the fuck did my life come to this?

You had never been one for thrills in life. If anything, you had been pretty boring: you’d always liked English class at school, always got straight As, never stepped a foot out of line. You never felt the need to, nor the appeal of being rebellious. You’d gone on to get a bachelor’s degree and teacher’s certification, and then you’d gone on to teach English in a string of small town schools.

There was only one aspect out of the ordinary in your life up until now; you could never settle down in one place.. You felt a restlessness, a pull towards something you still hadn’t found, and after a couple of years in a place, it inevitably built up until it was too strong to resist. And so you packed your bags, applied for a job somewhere else, and started anew. 

You didn’t think Jericho would be much different. Small town, 5 thousand inhabitants, only spots of interest a tacky historical reconstruction site and a school full of outcasts. The same one you had applied to. Nothing much to offer. You’d give it a year or two at most. 

You didn’t really care about the fact that you were teaching outcasts. They might drink blood or howl at the moon or whatever in their spare time, but they were teenagers that had to learn to write a proper essay just like anyone else. You prided yourself in your work ethic and told that to the board when they interviewed you. Apparently they appreciated that. Or there was nobody else who had applied. There had been some accidents during the last school year, apparently. The board had repeated several times that it had been a one-off and it had been taken care of definitively.They had all seemed very defensive about the topic. 

Once again, you shrugged it off. You had no time to waste on rumors and things of the past. The school had its quirks, sure, but all schools had, each in their own way. You settled in your quarters on the school grounds, and started reviewing your lesson plans taking into account the notes left by the previous teacher. You settled in for your usual routine of lessons, tests, marking that you were familiar with by now. 

And then she barged into your life, throwing routine and predictability to the wind. 

Even with your aversion to gossip, you’d heard about her. Larissa Weems, the best principal Nevermore had ever had, mysteriously injured in the line of work, supposedly trying to protect the school, and hospitalized for months after that. When talking about her, voices dropped to a whisper out of respect - or fear, you hadn’t been able to ascertain that. 

The day she had come back, you’d have thought royalty was about to visit the school, with the amount of fretting, of preparations, of nervous energy filling the halls and rooms. You’d had to let your classes work on assignments because they had been unable to listen to one word of what you were explaining. You had rolled your eyes in the privacy of your room. Seriously, you’d seen plenty of disruptive principals in your years of teaching, but one who could be so distracting even before she had set foot back in school? That was a first. 

You felt obliged to show up as well to the welcoming committee. The whole staff was there, as well as the student body. Some had even prepared signs, and there was a white banner draped along the balcony on which was written, in red paint, a very wonky Welcome back Princ. Weems . 

It was cute that she was so beloved by her school, you thought, but you were also thinking of how to recover the day of missed lessons, and how to optimize the next days’ so as to go back on track. You tried not to be too miffed about it. 

All of the thoughts of lesson plans and all of the lingering irritation at them being disrupted fled your brain at the sight of the first foot stepping out of the car. Shiny, varnished black shoes, showing off a milky ankle, and a shapely calf that look longer than any you’d seen (not that you made a point of looking at women’s legs all the time, but sometimes your eyes did wander…)

The skin on show was sadly cut off below the knee by the modest hemline of a woolen dress and it was at that point that Nevermore’s principal exited the car in all of her towering beauty, and your mind went completely blank, cause in all of their gossip everyone in Nevermore had forgotten to mention a small, key detail about the principal.

She was stunning. 

The most beautiful woman you’d ever seen was standing before you, waving and smiling regally, as the whole school cheered. You almost didn’t notice all the jubilant ruckus, your eyes too busy raking all over her figure, as if trying to commit every single detail to memory. Her slender, elegant hands, wrapped in leather gloves. The perfectly-tailored coat, in the same fabric and color as the dress. The sparkle of her gold jewelry in the pale winter sun. The perfect proportion of her face, the way the bright red lipstick brought attention to her smile.

Her light eyes were roaming all over the crowd, as if taking stock of known faces and new entries. Finally her gaze fixed on you, and you could see a spark of amusement flicker on her face at seeing you.

You belatedly realized that you had been gaping at her like a fish out of water.

The day after you had still been beating yourself up about the humiliation at being caught slack-jawed staring at your boss when she visited you in your classroom after you were done with the day’s lessons.

She rapped against the doorframe, but strode in before you could say anything. You scrambled to your feet, awkwardly, while she covered the distance from the door to your desk in a couple of long steps. She was wearing another dress today, a tartan dress with a belt that cinched her waist, underlying the shape of her hips and chest while still being completely work-appropriate.  

“So you’re the new teacher they have hired to replace poor Collins.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I’m Larissa Weems. Usually, I have the final word on new hires. The board does a wonderful job but sometimes they lack a certain sort of practicality in their assessment of candidates, as it happened with the last hire. I wasn’t convinced by her spiel, but the board insisted and…well. I should have trusted my gut instinct.” Her eyes grew distant for a second, before focusing back on you with a hard gaze. You could see the speckles of lighter and darker blue mixing in her irises, and the perfectly applied make-up that highlighted their natural beauty.  You tried to shake yourself out of her charm. She could be trying to fire you, and you were busy ogling her! That’s not the kind of person you were! You cleared your voice, trying to think up something to say to help your case.

“I…”

“I know you have been hired already, and I am sure you are a perfect fit for the role. I’d just like to have a little chat together, nothing too formal, just getting to know each other a little bit better.” She smiled as she said that, and while you were sure it was supposed to be a polite smile, you couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at that. 

She looks like a predator closing in on prey , your mind unhelpfully suggested. 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your sweaty palms and increasing heart rate. 

“O-of course, ma'am." was all you could meekily say. 

"Perfect." she purred. "Meet me at seven sharp at the Lilac Lounge. I'll have a private booth reserved."

To be continued...

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[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Nothing ever go according to plan | JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: The plan to get the cross back turn sour and JJ end up putting his life on the line

Word count: 1k

Request: can I request a JJ Maybank fic with numbers 4 and 6 from the obx print list please! thank you sm <3 ‘’Can you stop being so fucking reckless? I’m tired of being scared of losing you.’’ + ‘’Don’t push me away.’’

Can you write the pursuit/accident from episode 5 but instead of Kie on the bike with JJ, it’s reader and they are a couple 

Note: That scene had me on the edge of my seat!!

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Getting caught stealing the cross into Topper’s truck was not part of the plan, but you had to roll with it. When does anything go according to plan anyway?

You saw a flash of red and blue lights, then heard the siren. Shit.

You quickly got behind JJ on his motorcycle, holding onto him tightly as he revved the engine and took off. A mix of siren wailing and tires screeching filled your ears, making the blood pump faster in your veins and your anxiety increase. Being part of the pursuit was less fun than watching it happen on TV.

‘’J…’’ you warned worriedly, looking over your shoulder and seeing the police car getting closer and closer.

‘’I know, I know,’’ he said, his own nerves translating in his voice.

He slid into the other lane and sped again, trying to catch up with Topper. Once he did, he told him to keep going straight and that he had a plan.

‘’Get ready to jump.’’

‘’What?!’’ you exclaimed, not on board with that plan. You’ve seen Footloose, it looked dangerous. ‘’Have you lost your mind? I’m not leaving you.’’ You clung to him, fingers gripping his shirt.

‘’Get in Top’s truck,’’ JJ repeated with more bite in his words.

Your safety was important to him and he couldn’t have you on his motorcycle if he wanted to continue with his plan.

Reluctantly, you did as told and jumped onto the box holding the cross, Pope’s hand holding yours tight so you wouldn’t fall during the process. He helped you get inside the truck, finally safe.

‘’Are you okay?’’ Sarah asked from the front seat.

You nodded, but everyone’s attention shifted when you heard a screech of tires right behind and saw that JJ had stopped and turned his bike around to distract the cops. Was that his plan? Getting the cops to go after him instead of the truck with the cross?

‘’Holy shit!’’ Cleo said, watching from the back window. ‘’I think he threw something at the cops.’’

The police car turned around and fell right into JJ’s plan. While distracting the cops was a good idea, he just committed a criminal offense.

Sarah turned to Topper. ‘’Topper, turn around!’’

He shook his head stubbornly. He agreed to help her, but he wasn’t going to go to prison for her friends — Pogues. ‘’Absolutely not.’’

‘’We’re not leaving him. He’s gonna get arrested,’’ you said, protecting your boyfriend at your turn.

With some more insisting from Sarah, she finally got Topper to turn around. You and Pope shared a relieved glance. The caution to get JJ out would be very salty and none of you could afford it.

The next minutes were intense. Pope was yelling directions at Topper while you were silently panicking in the backseat. The amount of stress this boy always put you through was crazy.

‘’No way, he's up on the overpass. What is he do—��’

Sarah didn’t get to finish her sentence. Up on the overpass, you saw JJ losing control of the motorcycle and crashing through the barrier and railing and falling down the overpass. The car echoed with gasps, watching the accident unfold.

Topper hit the brakes and you all stumbled out of the truck to check on JJ.

The motorcycle broke into pieces at the impact. There were parts here and there on the road, but no sign of JJ.

‘’JJ…’’ Your eyes were frantically searching for the blond as your hands were beginning to shake. ‘’JJ! Where is he?’’ You searched the surroundings, but he wasn’t there. ‘’JJ!’’ Your voice was desperate and panicked, mixing with the other’s.

‘’Maybe he’s up on the bridge,’’ Pope suggested, staying optimistic.

You crumbled to the ground as tears blurred your vision and a sob escaped your lips, thinking the worst. Cleo watched you with sadness and kept looking for JJ for you. She didn’t want that traumatic scene to be your last memory of him. He had to be alive.

‘’I wish I could say I did this on purpose, but that was the gnarliest powerslide I've ever done,’’ a familiar voice said from behind you.

Everyone whipped their heads around, seeing JJ standing and dusting off his hat.

‘’You’re alive!’’ Pope yelled, tackling his friend into a hug.

JJ groaned in pain, his whole body aching from the fall. ‘’Yeah, I’m surprised too.’’

Everyone went and hugged him, sharing a few words. Everyone except you. You were still on the ground among the debris, tears running down your face. He was there before your eyes, alive and well, but your state of shock held you frozen.

Noticing you were still on the ground, Sarah helped you up and called JJ, tearing his attention away from his conversation with Pope and Cleo.

Guilt filled his guts when he saw you and he freed himself from his friends to come over. ‘’I’m gonna go check on my girl.’’ 

If this would’ve been a movie, it would’ve been a perfect moment to put in slow-motion, but your life, although chaotic and implausible sometimes, was not a Hollywood production. 

Another tear fell when you felt JJ’s embrace enveloping you. This time, it was a tear of relief. ‘’You’re okay,’’ you stated, your voice muffled by his chest.

‘’A little sore, but—’’

You pulled back and hit his chest sharply. ‘’Can you stop being so fucking reckless? I’m tired of being scared of losing you.’’

He hissed, but accepted the hit. He deserved it. From your perspective, the accident must not have been easy to watch. If he had been more careful, he would not have lost control of the motorcycle and fallen off the overpass.

JJ gently wiped your tears from your face, looking at you with soft guilty eyes. ‘’I’m sorry. I just wanted to help, I didn’t think my plan would turn to shit.’’ He tried to hug you again, but you didn’t let him. JJ sighed. ‘’Don’t do that. Don’t push me away.’’ He went again, but this time you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing away the part of you that was mad at him.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

SELF LOVE 101 (Gojo x Black!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [REQUEST FILL]

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Black!Self-Insert!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: When you get invited to your coworker's Valentine's Day party, you have no intention of going. Especially since this particular coworker isn't exactly your cup of tea: Gojo Satoru is just too proud, too cocky, and too damn full of himself for a girl like you. But when you're persuaded to go and find yourself alone with him, Gojo will stop at nothing until you see that loving yourself is nothing to hate on. After all, a beautiful woman like you deserves to be loved on...especially on camera.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Coworkers to Lovers; Mild Enemies to Lovers; Secret Crush; Reader is a Self-Insert; Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized; Foreplay; Mutual Oral; Spitting; Cunnilingus + Fingering; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Lipstick Marking; Heels On During Sex; Body Worship; Spanking; Begging; Dom!Gojo; sub!Reader; Breeding Position; Missionary; Dirty Talk; Eye Contact; Mutual Orgasm; Creampie; Reader Cums 2x; Sex on Camera/Nude Photos

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: A very special thank you to @curiouscutie143 for requesting my writing again for a V-Day special! I love writing about that sexy blue-eyed MFer & I hope you enjoy reading about him. -Jazz 🩷🩷🩷

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Commission Fan Art by greentforever on Fiverrrr

“So, V, you goin’ to Gojo’s Valentine’s Day party tonight?” 

You sit at your computer desk between the gray walls of your cubicle lined with photos of you with family, friends, and co-workers. One of them, your good friend Shoko, leans against the doorway to your cubicle in her black blazer, slacks that do nothing to hide her shapely ass, and blouse as red as her bold lip color. You, too, are dressed for the day of romance and love in your pink sweater paired with a black pencil skirt, nylon stockings, and pumps. 

She gives you an expectant smile as if she already knows your answer as she stirs sugar into her mug of coffee. You have your own coffee–iced despite the cold–that you sip as you sit at your desk, answering emails for the morning before the team meeting at 10 AM. This leaves you two hours to bullshit and gossip with Shoko which is one of your favorite points of the workday. “No,” you calmly reply. “You know I don’t do parties, Sho.” 

“But it’ll be with our coworkers,” Shoko protests. “You know these people! Gojo is inviting everyone from all of the departments, including our boss.” You inwardly roll your eyes behind your cat-eye glasses. Of course, Gojo would invite the bossman too. You always thought of him as a “boss’ pet” as well as a “people whore”, meaning he always makes it his mission to socialize and make everybody like him. Or maybe that’s just your strong distaste for his personality talking. 

“Sorry, girl,” you sigh, giving Shoko an apologetic smile. “It’s a no for me.” Shoko gives you a look between a glare and a pout. “Why? You’ve got plans? I wouldn’t doubt that your fine ass has a hot date.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you and snorts as you roll your eyes at her ridiculousness. 

Though you know that you’re a very attractive woman with your smooth, brown skin, plump frame, and an ass and rack that can stop traffic, you don’t do the dating thing. At least not right now. It’s too complicated. Too messy. Too distracting. You’re way too focused on your job, which you enjoy and are very good at, to be fooling around on dating sites and chasing after coworkers for some short-lived office romance. 

“Actually, yes, I do have plans,” you reply to your friend. “I have a date with my cat, TV, and Chinese takeout, thank you very much.” You then take a manila folder from the corner of your seat, stand from your chair, and give Shoko a tight-lipped smile. “Now, if you wanna continue pestering me with this, you’re gonna have to follow me to the scanner room.” 

And she does. She follows you, hot on your heels, as you walk through the office of cubicles holding your coworkers making calls, doing work, and sipping their morning coffee. She follows you into the scanner room with its dozens of scanning/printing/copying machines and boxes of extra office supplies. “Come on, V!” she groans. “I’ll be there too and we can have some fun! It would be the perfect time to work on your introvert tendencies.” 

You side-eye her as you begin to fire up the machine and put sheets into the scanner, one at a time. “A party isn’t gonna help with that,” you argue. “And it’s not like I don’t go out! I just don’t try to socialize with people I don’t know like you and…” Your words seem to die in your throat when you catch a glimpse of him through the scanning room’s doorway. 

You’ll never get over how tall Gojo is, standing a whole head taller than you with a lean, toned build that you can see even through his blue button-down shirt and slacks. His office attire is casual yet expensive-looking judging by his red bottom dress shoes. He keeps his locks of snow-white hair unstyled and slightly unruly as if he just rolled out of bed. It gives him a sexy look that you know drives so many of the girls in here crazy. Not to mention his voice––smooth, oh-so-sweet, and annoying like a song you’ve heard over and over again and can’t get out of your head. 

And then there are his eyes. They are an intense, electric blue that seems to shock you whenever you see them. Even now, when he turns his head slightly from chatting up a coworker, his eyes meet yours and you forget how to function. A small, crooked smile appears on his lips and he nods at you. You nod back in greeting––one of the only three ways you acknowledge each other. The other two are “good morning”s and unreadable glances across the office at one another. 

Shoko notices and bumps you with her hip. “And you can finally stop acting like you don’t like this man and get you some dick,” she sniggers. “You know he’d give it to you if you asked, V. The guy has pining after you for months now.” You give her a glare which she just laughs at. She swears that you have a “thing” for Gojo, but you will argue that down into the dirt until your very last breath. 

Shoko doesn’t understand that you and Gojo would not work. You and him are total opposites. He is extroverted and makes it his mission to go to every party, club, and kickback on the weekends while you’re more introverted and . rather stay home. While you know you’re attractive, you don’t constantly throw it in people’s faces like he does. He’s cocky and pompous and waaaay too into himself. 

You don’t dislike Gojo as a person, but you dislike his personality. And the persona he seems to put on for everyone else as if they are his audience. You’ve had the misfortune of seeing him drunk at your company’s Christmas party and left after an hour because of his constant jokes, loud singing, and how much he badgered you to take a shot. Despite this dislike, you don’t hate the guy. You both stay mannerable when your paths cross for any reason and sneak glances at one another but never speak beyond a “good morning” or about work. He works in a whole other department so you don’t see him often, but on the elevators or at company meetings, it’s a different story. 

Shoko can see you battling internally with yourself, so she stands in front of the doorway to block your view of Gojo, leaning her hip against the frame. “Listen, I know you have this whole love-hate thing with this dude,” she sighs, “but I promise you, he isn’t that bad. An attention slut, sure, but he means well. But I’m not here to talk about him–I’m here for you. I’ll be damned if you’re going to spend V-Day alone with your cat and takeout, which is why you need to come out with me, drink, shake ass, and make fun of our coworkers! Just for an hour, V, pleeeeease?” 

She folds her hands into a prayer, interlacing her fingers. You want to say no, but maybe she’s right. Maybe you can use a change. “One hour,” you firmly say. “One. Hour. And then I’m leaving.” 

Shoko squeals and presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving a red lip mark. “You won’t regret this, I promise,” she says though you groan indifferently. However, you can’t help but feel like maybe you won’t regret it either. 

********** 

You’ve never seen a house so big until your Uber pulls up to the estate Gojo rented out for the party. 

“Wow,” you whisper, staring up at the house in awe. After going down a trail lined with trees with bare branches to a forest that seemed to get deeper and darker, making you feel like you were entering a horror movie as you sat in the back of the car, the trees finally cleared and the mansion revealed itself. It’s more like a castle with its many floors, balconies, cobble-stoned walls, and glass windows. You spot a large pool on the right covered with a tarp, a tennis court, and a parking lot to the left filled with cars of all kinds. The lawn before it is clean, cut, and dewy, freshly cut and watered for the guests. 

The driver parks near the door and you pay him extra in cash despite also putting his tip on your credit card. “Keep it,” you tell him with a smile before thanking him and leaving the car. You press your wool trench closer to you as you walk up the path to the mansion in your heels that click against the cobblestones. The closer you get, the louder the party gets. Music and miscellaneous conversations drift to your ears, making you feel nervous. You want to turn around and run. 

‘No,’ you think, forcing yourself to keep walking. ‘You agreed to stay for an hour. AN HOUR, BITCH. You’ll be fine.’ So you swallow your fear, take a deep breath, and knock loudly on the door (ringing the doorbell for good measure). The door opens, revealing not Gojo but someone just as tall, built, and fine. He sports long, black locks of hair tied into a neat bun, gage earrings, and a tailored suit that he looks absolutely drool-worthy in. 

The stranger stares at you warmly but questionably with his chocolate eyes that you find yourself falling into. “Hello,” he greets you in a deep yet soft voice. “I’m guessing you’re here for the party?” Gulping, you find your voice and manage to answer the handsome stranger: “Y-Yeah, um, I’m V. Gojo’s coworker?” 

Recognition appears in the stranger’s eyes. “Oh, you’re V!” he chuckles. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Gojo has told me so much about you..and you’re just as pretty as he told me.” He gives you a wink that makes your stomach flip, but even more so that makes you react in such a way is the newfound information that Gojo has talked about you…and he thinks you’re pretty? 

You can’t mull over it for long though because the stranger moves aside to let you in. “Please, come in,” he says. “I’ll take your coat.” You thank him as you shed your coat, revealing your outfit of a red, curve-hugging dress that crosses over your chest, only giving viewers a peak of your cleavage. You curled your hair so it falls and bounces around your neck and paired your outfit with nylon stockings, pumps, a bold red lip and cat eye, and some small gold jewelry. You feel sexy and expensive. 

You take a moment to look around and admire the place. It’s something straight out of a movie with its polished marbled floors and walls, tablecloth tables covered in expensive snacks, fondue fountains, and champagne glasses, and a DJ playing slower songs as guests continue to show up. It’s truly a beautiful setup. 

“I’m Geto,” the stranger says once he’s finished hanging up your coat. “Suguru. I’m a friend of Gojo’s from high school and I own the place. Pretty, right?” You shake his hand when he offers it, noticing how large it is. “Nice to meet you,” you reply, “and it’s magnificent. I’m curious about what you do for work if you own a place like this!” 

He chuckles at the compliment and your curiosity. “I’m a business owner,” he explains. “I own one of the largest art companies in the country. We work primarily in setting up art exhibits, selling historical pieces, and keeping all art museums funded.” Ooooh…that means he got money. “I’ll have to tell Gojo that you’re here. He was so sure you weren’t coming.” 

You scowl confusedly at him, but before you can ask bout it, the man of the hour makes his grand appearance. “Getoooo!” his annoyingly familiar voice bellows. You turn, finding Gojo strutting over with a glass of champagne in a sleek, black button-up shirt, dress slacks, and red-bottom shoes. Darkened glasses sit on his eyes and his fingers and neck drip with gold jewelry. He looks expensive. And annoyingly good. 

He tosses an arm around Geto once near him, leaning into his friend.  “Where’d you get to, man? I’ve been looking for your ass for over 15 min…” He trails off when he gets a look at you and lowers his glasses down the bridge of his nose. You two stand there, silent, the music and noise swelling around you. “Huh,” he exhales, shocked. “And here I was wonderin’ who you were chattin’ up.” 

“Nice to see you too, Satoru,” you mutter. Sensing the tension, Geto clears his throat and takes Gojo’s glass from him. “I’ll just leave you two to talk,” he says before practically hurrying off. Then it’s just you two left alone. You don’t know whether to look at him or at the floor. “I can’t believe you actually came,” he huffs. “Shoko said you’d be coming, but I didn’t believe her. You never really come to any work-related events.” 

You flush under the lights, hugging your arms close to your body as a self-soothing mechanism. “That’s not true,” you protest. “I came to the Christmas party.” Gojo gives you a humored smile that irritates you for some reason. “But you left early,” he points out. 

“Well, maybe that’s because I don’t like seein’ my coworkers drunk,” you pointedly reply. “I’m just not a party person…but I did promise Shoko, so here I am.” You look off to the side to avoid Gojo’s gaze, but you can still feel him looking at you. Having no choice, you look back at him and find him giving you a soft, unreadable look. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you ask, uncomfortable. 

“You just look…” He stops and bites his lower lip as if struggling internally with himself. It feels as if the room has gotten ten times hotter. “Really nice,” he decides, giving you a smile. “I’m shocked you’re not here with somebody.” 

“Well, I sorta am…” You begin to look for Shoko and find her in a green mini dress chatting up Nanami and Haibara from another department at your job. When she sees you, she gasps and immediately struts over you to you, a glass in one hand. “There she is!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around you. You sigh in relief, glad to have her here. “Is this guy bothering you? It’s okay, baby, I’m here now.” 

She turns to Gojo with a scowl, her arm wrapped around your plump waist. “So you can make your exit, Gojo,” she jokingly tells him. He puts his hands up in mock defense and backs away.

“Fine with me, just don’t make out in front of our boss. I’ll see you two around.” But as he says this, he looks dead at you as if making a promise. When he finally turns to walk away, you finally feel like you can breathe. “He’s got it bad,” Shoko chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you sigh. “I’m already uncomfortable here. I feel like everyone is staring at me.” Shoko titters, taking a champagne glass from a nearby tray and handing it to you. “Maybe it’s because you look fine as fuck,” she laughs. “Girl, just take a glass and relax! It’s a party! Those nerves will start to melt away the minute you get that champagne down the hatchet.” 

You do as she says and sip on your first glass of the night. And though you start to feel somewhat calm, you still feel disturbed. Mostly because of Gojo. Throughout the night, you become increasingly annoyed by his constant socializing and his noise. Why is he so loud? Loud when he talks. Loud when he laughs. Loud when he sings karaoke in front of his adoring, tipsy coworkers who cheer him on. 

Not to mention he constantly takes photos with everybody! Every person, including your boss, he takes a photo with, causing his phone to flash in your face every five minutes. Combined with the loud music and drunken laughter, you’re quickly becoming overstimulated (and not at all in a good way). 

Fed up with your snowy-haired party host and the noise, you down your second glass and text Shoko that you went to find the bathroom. But really, you just need to get away and be alone. Then you sneak away from the party and up the stairs until you are in the long hallway lined with paintings, oakwood vanities, and doors. Many doors. You push open the door that is cracked, leading to an empty study that is only lit by the big, round cheese moon outside the window behind the oakwood desk. 

The study is spacious and cozy with its polished bookcases of books on every subject, hanging paintings, and carpeted floor. The moon cuts through the glass window, creating a silvery square on the carpet and the wall near the desk where you see Geto’s name plastered on a college diploma. This must be his study. Hopefully, he won’t be upset that you’re in here, but the door was locked and you won’t be in here for long. 

You shut the door behind you and slowly walk into the study before stopping at the desk leaning against it. You feel so good to just be alone for a while, the sound of the party muffled beneath the floorboards. The only loud sounds are of your breathing and the hooting of a lone owl outside the window. It is peaceful. Serene. But not for long. 

The door opens before you can duck to hide and a tall figure stands in the doorway. He steps in, revealing himself to be the exact man you were trying to escape. “Shit!” you gasp, placing a hand on your leaping heart. “Don’t you knock?” 

Gojo stands there as if he didn’t just nearly scare you half to death. “I did knock,” he says. “Said your name too. Must’ve not heard me.” The door shuts behind him as he walks further into the room, slowly as if you’re a spooked animal. You don’t move from the desk, even when he comes to lean on the edge of it with you. 

“I was lookin’ for you,” he explains. “Shoko said you went to the bathroom, but that was over fifteen minutes ago.” He takes off his glasses to reveal his eyes, worry embedded in the crystal blue irises. 

“Oh,” you sheepishly say. “Sorry, I just…needed some time to myself. It was too loud down there.” He quirks one eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his pink lips. “Is that code for me bein’ too loud?” he chuckles. “C’mon, I know you were annoyed by me. I could see it all over your face. That’s why I came up here to check on you and tell you I’m sorry.” 

And he actually sounds genuinely sorry about it. It makes you feel incredibly guilty. “You don’t have to apologize,” you sigh. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I guess our personalities just clash…and I’m not too fond of a phone flashing in myself every five seconds when you take a selfie.” 

Gojo laughs at this, the sound pleasant to you. “Just taking advantage of how good I look,” he jokes, flashing you a pearly-white grin. You don’t respond, staring at your shoes. “You don’t agree?” he asks, taking your silence for disagreement. 

“I didn’t say that!” you protest, flushing. “I just don’t see the need in takin’ all of those photos of yourself just because you look good. I mean, who’s gonna see ‘em?” You shrug to yourself, not really liking this conversation. “I am!” he laughs. “It’s not always for others to see. Maybe I just wanna admire myself. Don’t you, V? Admire yourself, I mean?” 

Now you really don’t like this conversation. You don’t reply, your thoughts running a million miles a minute. You feel like you should leave…but at the same time, you like the quiet and you enjoy Gojo’s openness. You enjoy him when he isn’t someone else. “Lemme ask you somethin’,” he says, not waiting for a response. “Do you hate confident guys? Guys who know they’re good-looking?” 

You look at him then, your eyes sharp and pointed. “No; just the ones who are cocky and into themselves.” 

A twinkle appears in Gojo’s eyes that is illuminated by the moonlight pouting into the window. Unbeknownst to you, he loves your boldness. Your bite. It’s sexy. And more than anything, he loves to prove you wrong about him. “It’s not that I’m into myself. I just know I’m a strong, smart, sexy guy. And there’s nothing wrong with that! I have the kind of confidence that no one’s opinion of me can make me feel some type of way…I mean, other than yours.” 

You furrow your brows at this, confused. Gojo just laughs, shaking his head. “In case you ain’t pieced it together, I like you, V. I think you’re way too smart for your department and you’re not bad on the eyes either.” He tilts his head to the side, a puppy dog look in his eyes. “But for some sad reason, you just seriously dislike me.” 

“I don’t dislike you!” you protest, feeling even guiltier than initially. He must think you’re such a bitch! “I just don’t like how cocky and overly exaggerated you can be with your confidence. To me, it feels like you rub it in my face.” Gojo raises an eyebrow, shocked at this confession. “Why?” he asks curiously. “Don’t you think you’re just as good-looking?” 

You look away at your nails, hyper-fixated on how shiny and glossy they are. “Well, yeah, but…” You pause, pretty sure that you’re oversharing at this point. You do know that you’re beautiful, but taking photos isn’t your thing. You don’t even have an Instagram account! It just isn’t for you. But Gojo thinks this is a travesty. “But what? Do you not take selfies of yourself?” You don’t answer, too embarrassed to. Gojo honestly looks shocked. “How?!” he exclaims. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? Seriously, V, you’re a fucking knockout! Especially right now.” 

You feel his blue eyes roaming across your body, your curves, your dress, and suddenly, the room feels hotter. “Here, c’mere,” he suddenly says, pulling out his phone. He then scoots closer to you to which you move away. “What are you doing?” you ask, confused. 

“Takin’ photos with you,” he replies as he opens his camera. “What’s it look like? Just scoot in close and you can see how gorgeous you are.” He flips the camera lens around so they’re facing you and him, but you scoot out of the shot, hesitant. “C’mon, just a few pics!” he pleads. “Pleeeease? I’ll put the camera on auto flash so it’ll go off every 20 seconds.” 

He gives you those puppy dog eyes again and you sigh, knowing that you’ll regret this. “Alright, fine,” you huff and scoot closer to him, trying not to inhale his cologne or feel some type of way with his shoulder and calve rubbing up against yours. “Say V-Day,” he says before the screen flashes in your face. He smiles but you don’t though, keeping your expression stoic. 

Gojo hums in satisfaction at the photo. “See? Look at that gorgeous face!” You look between the two contrasting faces and facial expressions. “Mine or yours?” you ask. He smirks at you and you realize your mistake. “Yours, of course,” he chuckles. “Why? You think I’m gorgeous?” You tsk and nudge him, earning a cackle. “C’mon, another one! Smile in this one.” 

Though you roll your eyes, you do as he says and smile, big and bright, into the camera. When the camera flashes, Gojo all but cracks a smirk in the photo. “Shit, I wasn’t ready for that one,” he sighs. “Now you’re definitely the gorgeous one in this one.” You flush, mostly because you feel that he’s right––you do look gorgeous in the photo. 

After another photo where you’re both smiling, you start settling in and realize how funny Gojo is. He cracks jokes and makes you laugh as the photo flash goes off, leading to pictures being taken of you and him cracking up. Soon, you’re making silly faces at the screen which makes you both laugh even harder. “Okay, okay, lemme do this one normal,” you giggle and smile at the camera, feeling warm and happy. 

Gojo can tell and that is why he tells you exactly what he thinks of you, unable to keep it in: “Goddamn, you truly are beautiful, V,” he sighs. “Can’t you see us together?” You turn to him, confused and alarmed by his words, but you don’t realize how close you are. As the camera goes off, your lips touch his in a soft, quick kiss that is as fast as the flash of the camera. 

You pull away as quickly as it happens, shocked and alarmed by how much you liked the kiss rather than by the fact that it happened. He’s a good kisser. Gojo stares at you in the same light like he can’t believe that that just happened and that it was with you. But he also looks at you in a way no one ever has: adoringly. Enchantingly. Like you’re the most beautiful thing in the room. Your eyes roam down his handsome face to his lips, soft and pink. 

Gojo places his phone down next to him before, silently, you both lean in again, your lips moving slowly yet passionately against each other’s. Scratch that “good”. Gojo Satoru is a great kisser. He moves his lips like it’s his profession, taking his time easing you into it. His hand caresses your face and holds your cheek, his touch making you shiver. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become hotter and more passionate while your hands move along your bodies. At some point, his phone falls off of the edge of the desk and lands on the carpet, face-up. You can’t tell if the camera is still open and can’t care enough to check. Gojo’s lips move from your mouth to your neck, peppering your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses. You grasp his shoulders and close your eyes, blissed out from the sensations. Despite him being your coworker, despite his personality, despite the party going on downstairs and you still being in another person’s room, you don’t care. 

You can’t care. Not when Gojo is giving you everything you’ve been craving. So when his hands inch to the zipper at the nape of your neck, you let him do as he pleases. He pauses, looking at you questionably, and you nod, wanting him to continue. He continues to kiss you down, giving you small lovebites as his fingers work the zipper down. “Gojo,” you exhale. It’s all you can utter as the dress comes off, only falling down from the waist up due to you still sitting. 

Gojo stares at you like you’re a work of art, eyes now dark with molten lust. “Fuck, look at you,” he whispers, drinking in your soft, brown skin. “Look at these.” His hands move to your breasts, big, soft, and juicy. You whimper softly at his touch, his thumbs moving over your hard nipples. “You’re absolutely beautiful, V,” he groans like it pains him. “How the fuck aren’t you with anyone?” 

You don’t answer, too horny to speak. All that is on your mind is him. “Well, it’s their loss. Now, I have you tonight…if that’s what you want.” His hands begin to leave your body, but you stop him, keeping them on your chest. “Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, I want this.” He smiles, a light sparkling in his eyes. He doesn’t begin playing with your titties just yet. First, he runs his piano fingers up and down your back as he kisses you again, soft moans traveling into each other’s mouths. 

Your hands find his body, touching and stroking his forearms; his chest; his sides; his waist. At some point, you brush up against his crotch where you feel his obvious hard-on pushing up against his pants. You gasp at the feeling and he lightly laughs into your ear. “Do you see? You see what you do to me?” 

He then stands in between your legs and latches his lips onto one of your hard, brown nipples. You gasp at the sensations of his wet tongue flicking the sensitive bud and swirling around the areola. “Fuck, Gojo,” you quietly moan, tossing your head back to the ceiling as you lean back onto one hand on the desk. He is so good with his tongue! Every flick against your nipple has you gushing, along with his fingers gently fondling the other breast he doesn’t have his mouth on. He switches, giving both of you girls equal attention. He is sloppy and greedy with it, just as you hope he is eating pussy. 

Gojo hums into your nipple, pulling away to look at you with a mischievous smile. “Rubbin’ that pussy against my leg, huh?” he chuckles. “You’re so needy, V, baby. Didn’t think that was possible for you.” Realizing that you’ve been embarrassingly rubbing your cunt up against his leg wedged between your thighs, you try to pull away, but Gojo firmly grips your outer thigh to stop you. “No; tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.” 

You know you shouldn’t. You know that having relations with your coworker at a party can only bring trouble, but the need that you have is desperate to be unbottled and overflow; not trapped again. “Taste me, Satoru,” you say in a soft plea. “I want your mouth on me.” The smile he gives you just about melts your pussy right off the bone. 

“You’ve got it, kitty,” he coos, using his thumb to gently play with your plump bottom lip, watching the way it bounces and jiggles slightly. “But on one condition: you be as loud as you wanna be. Don’t pull that quiet shit with me. The music is loud enough anyway…and even if it isn’t, fuck them.” 

Before you can argue or protest, he kneels between your legs so he is at eye level with your panties and pulls them to the side, exposing them to his naked eyes. He hisses at the way your arousal sticks to your panties as he does, your pussy lips so soaked that strands of your wetness stick to the fabric. “Shit, baby,” he groans. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” 

You bite your lip, embarrassment and arousal mixing within you. You hate how horny he makes you, but you can’t deny that you love it too. You’ve never had anyone make you feel this out of control before. But when Gojo finally proceeds to slurp up your pussy like his favorite meal, you just about lose yourself. “Fuck!” you moan, immediately grabbing his shoulder while the other grips the edge of the desk. 

Gojo is a master at eating pussy. He wiggles his tongue this way and that, stroking your lips and your clit. He just kisses the entrance of your pussy with his tongue, never quite venturing inside but you can still feel him stroking your inner walls. When he does that, his nose bumps against your clit, nudging it gently and sending sparks of pleasure throughout your entire body. It’s so hard to keep quiet or control your body because of the immense pleasure you feel.

“Oh, my God!” you gasp, earning a hum of pleasure from Gojo that he makes in your pussy. Your thick thighs clamp around his head, making him feel smothered just the way he wants to. 

God, he loves your thighs! He uses his hands to grip them; stroke the outside of them; even lightly spank them and the space where they meet your ass that he is more than eager to see in 3D. 

When he pulls away to spit onto your pussy and slurp it back up, you swear you nearly shout to the heavens, but you manage to bite your lip to keep it all in. Noticing, Gojo gives the meat of your outer thigh a light spank that makes you squeak. “I said let that voice out,” he mumbles into your pussy. “Come on, baby…ain’t this where you’re weak at?” 

He then begins to gently flick and rub your clit with his thumb, paying close attention to the way you respond. Judging by the way your moans echo throughout the empty study and your thighs quiver, he assumes he’s right on the money. “I guess it is,” he chuckles. “Let’s see what other pretty sounds I make you make with these fingers.” 

And he gets exactly what he’s looking for when he dips one of those long fingers into your tight, wet, delectable pussy and begins to stroke upward to rub your clit and G-spot at the same time. You’re unable to keep your voice hidden, each moan, whimper, and sob loud and unbridled. Thank God the music is loud enough to mask the sounds, but even if it isn’t, you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when Gojo’s tongue and fingers feel so good. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that knot in your core beginning to tighten with each stroke, lick, and slurp. When he pulls away to once again spit on your pussy and then slurp it back up while his finger continues to stroke your insides, you feel that tension about to boil over and grab his head to push into your pussy. He welcomes it, loving the feeling of being drowned in your wet cunt. You can’t even speak a coherent sentence. You begin to babble cusses and his name as you feel yourself about to cum: “Fuck, ‘Tarou! Shit, you’re gonna make me cum! You’re gonna…I’m gonna…oh, shit, shit shit!” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Gojo hums eagerly into your cunt, repeating this and becoming more eager the faster his ministrations get. The faster they get, the harder and faster you cum. You throw your head back and grip his white locks as you cream all over and into Gojo’s mouth. A loud moan from deep within you rises to the surface and exits your mouth, echoing throughout the room. You feel euphoric, tingles of pleasure coursing through you. 

Gojo doesn’t stop licking or finger-fucking you until he can feel your pussy twitch and weak moans leave your lips. He finally pulls away with a gasp, his chin and lips coated in you. He licks it all off eagerly and sucks on the finger he had inside of you, staring deep into your eyes as he does so. Your eyes trail down to his hardened cock which has now begun to pulse beneath his pants, desperate to be released…and you’re desperate to get it. “Need you,” you whisper breathlessly. “I wanna taste you too.” 

Gojo gives you a lustful, molten hot stare that nearly gets you out of the rest of your dress. “Not here. Follow me.” He takes your hand and helps you off of the desk before leading you out of the study and into the hallway. You walk all the way down the hall to an empty master guest room, spacious, clean, and comes with a balcony that overlooks the outside. The tree branches stretching their spiny fingers to the window cut across the floor in shadows, the moonlight shining through into the bedroom. 

You barely pay any attention to the room because you’re too busy kissing on Gojo. You wrap your arms tight around his neck as your lips move against one another’s, your tongues swirling and moans traveling into each other’s mouths. Gojo, skilled as he is, kicks the door shut with one foot and unzips the rest of your dress so it falls to the floor. His hands immediately go for your ass, groping, squeezing, and spanking your plump cheeks. He chuckles through your kiss at each soft moan and gasp you make, the sounds going straight to his groin. 

When he pulls away, his lips are plump from constantly kissing and his eyes are blown with lust. “My turn,” he says, smirking at you, and suddenly, he’s hoisting you up into his arms like you weigh absolutely nothing compared to him. He laughs at your cute little squeak as he carries you over to the humongous, neatly-made bed and tosses you onto the soft mattress where he hums seductively at the way you bounce against the bedsprings. Seeing you naked in just your heels is many things to him, one of which causes him to strip himself out of his clothes. Before he does, he leans his phone up against a charger on the nightstand so it faces you and the bed. You can’t tell if it’s on or not, too focused on him to even care. 

You watch him from the bed, turning over onto your tummy to lean against your elbows, your chin in your hands, and heels kicked up in the air. You’ve never seen someone take off his clothes so quick and in a flash, Gojo is completely naked. Your hungry eyes roam over his body, drinking in his muscles and lighter skin that contrasts with yours. They then go lower where they latch onto his big, thick, gorgeous, hard cock. You see veins and stark white pubic hairs that are trimmed short leading up to his toned stomach and V-line. You feel your body twitch with need, wanting him inside you in any possible way. 

Gojo takes a handful of his cock and begins to slowly stroke it in your face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “You want this?” he asks. Slowly, you nod, unable to speak. “Then open your mouth and take it like a good girl.” 

You do so, inching to the edge of the bed so you’re able to reach him. You open your mouth and wrap your lips around him, emitting a needy groan from his luscious lips as you begin to suck and lick on his cock. “Thaaat’s it, baby,” he praises you, pushing stray hairs out of your face. “Lick it just like that. Like a lollipop…but just a little bigger.” 

Bigger, indeed! He stretches out your mouth and barely fits in your hands as you begin to stroke him, but you love his girth and length. You love how your dark, long nails look against his pale skin stroking him up and down. You love the sounds he makes, each moan and hum of pleasure encouraging you to give him major throat. So you bob your head and stare into his eyes as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks around his length. “Shit, baby!” he hisses, tossing his head back. “How are you this fucking good at suckin’ dick?” 

You just answer by continuing your work, loving how good you’re making him feel with your mouth and hands. After letting you do your thing for a while, Gojo slides out of your throat with a groan and gently slaps his cock against your lips dripping with spit, smearing it and your lipstick around your mouth. “So pretty,” he sighs dreamily, giving you a hooded gaze that makes you gush. “Look at how much you marked me, kitty.” 

He nods down at his cockhead ringed in your red lipstick which only makes you want to make more. “I wanna mark you too,” he says in a sultry, breathless voice. “I wanna fuck your throat, baby. Is that okay?” Is that okay? He may as well ask if it’s okay to fuck you! “Yes,” you reply, staring up at him through your lashes. “It’s okay…use my throat, ‘Tarou.” 

Your voice and nasty words make his dick twitch excitedly. He wraps his hand around himself and taps the head lightly against your tongue, making light, wet smacking sounds as he does so. “Just tap my hip or my thigh twice if you need to breathe, okay?” he coos to which you nod. And then he’s gripping your hair as he slides deep, deep, deep into your throat, nearly making you choke. A loud, needy moan leaves his lips as he settles into your tight, wet mouth and begins fucking it, bumping his pelvis and heavy balls against your face and chin as he does so. 

“Oh, my God,” he groans, fucking your throat like it’s a fleshlight. “Oh, my fucking God, baby, you’re so good at this shit! So, so good at suckin’ cock. Why the fuck didn’t we do this a long time ago?” You can only gargle and gag around his cock in response, earning a pleased chuckle. “Those are the sounds I like to hear,” he huffs. “You’re doin’ so well for me, baby, takin’ this big cock. You love gettin’ that throat fucked, don’t you? Maybe that’s all you needed to see things my way.” 

After some time of fucking your throat and leaning forward to plant some smacks on your ass to watch it jiggle, Gojo slides out of your mouth, giving you a chance to breathe. Spit and pre-cum drips from your mouth and chin, dribbling down to your tits and onto the bed. Gojo stares down at you, cheeks flushed, eyes narrow, and pumping his hard cock wet with your spit. “You still want this?” he asks. “We can leave it here if you want. No pressure, baby.” 

But you want all the pressure he can give you. So you position yourself onto your back and open your thighs for him, your heels planted on the edge of the bed. His intense, blue eyes immediately flick down to your gorgeous, edible pussy shimmering in the moonlight for him. “I want this,” you whisper into the dimly lit bedroom. But Gojo doesn’t move. He just stands there, still stroking his cock. “Do you not want this?” you ask uncertainly. 

“No, I wanna fuck you,” he answers easily. “I just want you to beg.” He grins at your gobsmacked expression. “That’s right, kitty: beg for me. Beg for this cock nice and pretty for me.” The heat of embarrassment crackles at your cheeks and skin, but it also makes your pussy quiver. “Please,” you whimper, swallowing your pride. “Please fuck me, Satoru. I need you. I’m so, so wet for you.” You begin to lightly play with your pussy in front of him, rubbing your clit and coating your lips in your wetness. 

It’s enough to make Gojo go absolutely insane. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty clit for me,” he demands before taking your ankles and yanking you to the edge of the bed. You gasp as he does so, but it turns into a moan as he slides himself home inside of you. Your body instantly tenses at his girth stretching out your walls, but he doesn’t move immediately. He watches you intently, waiting until you relax to start moving. And even then, he doesn’t fuck you hard and rough straight off the rip. He is gentle and slow, giving you strokes that are careful but still draw moans out of you. 

You can feel every inch of him inside of you, feeling unbelievably full. As you continue to rub your clit, the pleasure begins to build and your body becomes comfortable with Gojo’s cock, adapting and molding into a shape just for him. Gojo notices and grips your hips as he continues to roll his hips nice and tortorously slow into you. “This okay, baby?” he huffs. “You need it faster? Harder?” You nod, whimpering pathetically. 

Smack! His hand collides with the outside of your thigh, making it jiggle. “Nuh-uh, baby,” he growls. “Look at me. Say it to my face.” You open your eyes, just slits, and look at his handsome face slightly gleaming with sweat, as he bumps his hips even slower into you. He cackles at your groan of frustration, not giving up until you give him what he wants. “Please!” you whine. “Please, Gojo, baby, fuck me harder!” 

That’s when he holds you close by your hips, hoists your legs over his shoulders, and puts your ass straight into the mattress. Your eyes widen and your nails dig into shoulders as he fucks you rough, gripping the flesh of your thighs and fucking into you with a speed and precision that has you seeing stars. You’ve neve been fucked so good before. You pussy squelches and gushes all around his cock the more it pummels into you, drilling you just the way you need. 

It’s so good. Too good. Your eyes squeeze shut at the overwhelming pleasure, moans and whines leaving your lips to echo throughout the bedroom. You then feel Gojo’s hand gripping your chin, squishing your cheeks together. “Look at me, V,” he demands. “I said fucking look at me when I’m fucking you!” At his tone and volume, you weakly open your eyes and stare into his that remind you so much of the oceans in the Bahamas. 

“Keep lookin’ at me,” he orders but it sounds more like a plea. “Don’t look away. I wanna see those pretty eyes while I fill this pussy up.” You have to force yourself to keep staring, mostly because of the vulnerability. You’re here being splayed out and stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey, your heels dangling in the air and pussy squleching around his cock! And here he is, wanting to see every single cute little expression on your face and in your eyes. It’s too much. It’s too intimate. 

But it’s so intoxicating. So addictive. And the feeling is mutual. Gojo commits your body and the way your tits jiggle as he fucks you into the bed to memory, wanting to give you good dick any time you want as long as it’s his. “This is all it took, huh?” he chuckles. “You just needed some dick to see how beautiful you are? How much you deserve a guy like me?” He holds your face in his hand, forcing you to keep looking at him. “Do you see how good we are together, V? Huh? Do you see it now?” 

You must be delicious from the dick because you do. You do see it and you’re desperate to make it known as he speeds up, plowing into that pussy again and again until the bedsprings creak. “Fuck, ‘Tarou, yes!” you sob. “I’m gonna fucking cum! I’m so close!” You can’t stop the way your pussy clenches and your clit swells as you continue to toy with it. 

But then Gojo stops, stilling his movements. “Me too,” he warns. “But not like this.” He suddenly hoists you up farther onto the bed and edges onto it with you on his knees. He grips your ass as lifts your legs up onto his shoulders, leaning forward so your knees are pressed against your chest. “Need to make it count,” he grunts. “Need to be closer to you…need to be deeper.” 

You’re confused at fist, not sure what he’s doing. 

That’s when he proceeds to fuck you into a breeding position, his hips slamming down against yours with his feet planted firmly on the bed. “Oh, my God!” you practically scream as his cock pummels in and out of you at a breakneck pace, causing every part of you to jiggle and move with the force of his fucking. Now you understand why so many women are crazy for him: he’s amazing in bed. He has such stamina being able to fuck you in such a position without hiring, feral moans and grunts leaving his lips as he fucks you stupid. 

Now you have no choice but to cum. You’re completely trapped beneath him with no place to go, your pussy quivering and twitching around his cock. “G-Gojo!” you stutter, gripping his shoulders for dea life. “‘M g-gonna cum! Gonna…you’re g-gonna m-make me…” You can’t even speak, your tongue heavy and mind blank with pleasure. But Gojo understands. “Cum for me, baby,” he begs, staring deep into your eyes. “Cum with me. Give it to me like a good girl!” 

And you do. As soon as he bursts inside of you with a loud moan of your name, your pussy clenches and you cum all around his cock, drenching him in your juices. Gojo grips you to him, making you feel restricted and trapped with just his arms and his body. You gasp as you feel him fill you up with his nut, warm, wet, and endless. He groans as his cum drips out of you and leaks down your thighs and his balls, soaking you both in the aftermath of your sex. Your sex. You just had sex with a coworker. 

As the fog of your orgasm fades, you feel nothing close to bliss and everything close to mortification. Gojo finally releases you and stands up straight, hissing as he does so. “Ah, shit!” he groans. “Think I overdid it.” He puts a hand to his lower back, winching. You just stare up at him, trying to make sense of him and everything that just happened. “Sorry,” he sheepishly says, smiling down at you. “Did that ruin the mood?” 

Your eyes roam over his naked, toned body to his semi-hard cock still soaked in your and his cum. You quickly look away to your clothes and bag, feeling the urge to throw up. “No, I…fuck!” The gravity of the situation hits you like a freight train. “I can’t believe I did this,” you murmur to yourself. “I can’t believe we did this.” 

Gojo chuckles, laying next to you on the edge of the bed. “Believe it, baby; the hair speaks for itself.” He runs a hand through his unruly, sexed-out locks of silvery-white hair. “You were so, so good,” he sighs happily. He goes to touch you, but you move away, immediately feeling guilty for doing so when you see his saddened eyes. But you can’t bring yourself to touch him or snuggle. Aftercare doesn’t matter right now when all you feel is guilt and confusion. “I-I’m sorry, Gojo,” you weakly say. “I have to go. I took things too far with you tonight.” 

It was the alcohol, you try to reason. And you were trying to distract yourself from the noise of the party. You were vulnerable. You try to think of every reason this happened instead of just blaming it on the fact that you’re very attracted to Gojo Satoru. He lays on the bed now, scowling in utter confusion at you. “Wait, huh?” he asks as you scramble to leave the bed. “Wait, V, don’t go! Let’s sit down and talk about it!” 

But you don’t want to talk about it and you can’t talk about it. If you do, you’re sure that you’ll start crying. You can already feel the tears building. But as you rush to the door, gravity has other plans for you and you knock right into the nightstand, causing Gojo’s phone to fall. “Shit!” you gasp, immediately bending down to pick it up. His phone sits faceup in your hand, the screen glowing at you. 

There, you see his camera roll. And in it, every new picture taken by Gojo tonight. You see photos of him and your team; him and the boss; and him and you. Not just the ones you took side by side in Geto’s study, but also…other ones. More intimate ones taken every 20 seconds of you both. Naked. Having sex. Heat runs through your veins and up to your face, creating a permanent blush. ‘No,’ you think. ‘No, no, no!’ 

You open all of them, each one becoming more embarrassing and lewd than the previous one. You see photos taken from the floor in the study where Gojo is on his knees eating you out; photos of you getting your face fucked at the edge of the bed, your heels kicked up and his hand gripping your hair; you on your back legs spread wide and face contorted in pleasure as Gojo fucks you into the couch; you and him together, locked into a breeding position, your eyes locked on each other’s as the moon glows against your skin. 

Gojo slides off of the bed to check on you, seeing you staring at his phone completely in awe. “What?” he asks, curious. “What is it?” Wordlessly, you pass the phone to him and he sees the photos. His blue eyes widen an inch as he scrolls through each one. “Oh,” he just says. “Well, at least you look hot in all of these. But I can delete ‘em if you want.” 

And you realize that he’s right: you do look hot in all of them. You drink in your smooth, brown skin glowing in the moonlight; your thick thighs spread and ass looking so delectable; your pussy stretched around Gojo’s cock as your pretty face contorts beautifully with pleasure, spit and red lipstick smeared around your open mouth. It’s still embarrassing, but also liberating. And a turn-on. You see yourself just as Gojo sees you in those photos: sexy, beautiful, and meant to be with him. 

“No,” you reply. “Send them to me.” He gazes at you, shocked. “You’re right: I do look pretty hot in those…we both do, actually.” You give him a shy smile to which he returns, a slight blush adorning his cheeks. “Well, I’m glad you see it my way, but I can’t send them to you. I don’t have your number.” He actually looks sad to give you the bad news. 

But you smirk, one step ahead of him. You put your hand out, palm up, for his phone. “Then I guess you’ll need my number then,” you purr. He stares at you for a few seconds, his mind slowly processing your words, and then hands you the phone. He continues to give you that laughable look as you put your name and a cute heart emoji beside your name into his contacts, along with your number. 

When you pass it back to him, your heartbeat has accelerated, your stomach fluttering with butterflies. “You can use that for a brunch date too,” you add, feeling somewhat shy. “Or the movies.” You silence yourself, letting Gojo piece your words together. 

He stares down at your number and then at you before breaking out into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on a person. He tosses his phone onto the bed before engulfing you in a tight embrace, picking you up off of the ground. You squeal as he tosses you both onto the bed, kissing you all over on your face; your neck; your shoulders. “Finally!” he laughs. “Finally, you’re mine!” You laugh with him, feeling giddy like a schoolgirl who just found out her crush likes her back. 

You lean up to kiss him, but stop when a knock interrupts you. “Yes, finally,” Shoko agrees. “I was waiting for the day you two finally stopped acting like you weren’t crazy about each other and just fucked.” You gape at the door, mortified that your friend is behind it. Did she hear you two? Did anyone else hear you two?  

“As happy as I am for you Satoru, can you at least clean up my bed when you’re done in there?” Geto asks. “And come down for the party toast in about fifteen minutes.” 

Gojo presses a finger to his lips, signaling you to keep quiet while he’s silently dying with laughter. “Sorry, Sugu!” he calls. “We promise we didn’t break nothing!” 

“Uh-huh,” Geto replies blandly. “You’re lucky you’re my friend because I would’ve tried to scoop her up myself. She’s a keeper, indeed.” You flush as you hear him and Shoko finally leave, no doubt going to give the others a good story about the noise…but you also find that you don’t care if anyone knows. You want them to know. 

Gojo gazes down at you as you lean against his chest, feeling so small and so safe against him. 

“Now let’s get back to that snuggle. We’ve got fifteen minutes to spare and I’m not wasting any of ‘em.” He then leans down to capture your lips with his and you remind yourself to treat Shoko to lunch for persuading you to come to this stupid party. 

THE END.

[alwayssassydreamer]

bad decisions lead to pleasant outcome

Before you continue: english is not my first language so please bare with me. Also this is the first fic I’ve ever posted and I’m still trying to improve so sorry if this is a little chaotic and so darn long. I actually got a little carried away. Sorry about the rushed end I’m horrible at writing smut. And i only write fem!reader at least for now sorry about that. And the picture does not belong to me. Oh and the story is not proofread cause I'm lazy af.

For the story: in this story you will have a devilfruit which has no name bc i suck at names but nonetheless it allows you to „die“ without dying – yeah i know makes zero sense. No seriously what i mean is that it’s kinda like in a video game where you have 3 lives before it’s game over and that’s exactly your power. You can die up to 2 times within 24hours before you need to „reload“ otherwise it’s game over for you. Yep now that I’ve written it down it sounds super weird but it’s too late to change it….so have fun.

Warnings: i have no idea – swearing, maybe a little violence/threat of death, smut-ish at the end (consent), MDNI

Shanks x Reader

You’ve been pirating around with your crew for quite some time now earning you a pretty nice bounty on your head, though not as spectacular as some strawhat you’ve heard of. If someone outside your crew would’ve to describe you they’d probably say you’re cocky, overconfident and a little ruthless. But that’s what you had to be to survive in this world. Your crew, on the other hand, would describe you as a caring, loyal and fearless captain, capable to fight off enemies stronger than you just to defend them. Your devilfruit being rather useful in that case. After a long time out on sea everyone was glad to finally catch sight of an island. You and the crew decided to celebrate this with your remaining alcohol. When you set your first steps on this island you already started to regret drinking so much. You weren’t completely wasted like some of your crew but walking a straight line was kinda difficult. Therefore you decided it would be best if everyone remaind either on the ship or the beach till you all would sober up. After a few hours passed by you decided that it was time to check the island and refill your stocks. The island seemed pretty calm with no sign of someone bothering you when you’d take what you needed. You got to a small town and decided that after still feeling alittle giddy from drinking, it would be better not to cause any drama – steal what you need and then get back on the ship and sail off. In your head everything would work out perfectly, the crew would split up, some distracting the towns people while the others take what you needed. As soon as the people realize that they’ve been robbed you’d be long gone. But of course things did not work out as you planned. A few of the towns people recognized you from your wanted poster, followed by catching 2 of your crew mates stealing some alcohol. Just your luck. You had to fight the unexpectedly good armed and trained enemies off leading to a destroyed bakery, some knocked out men and a boost of your ego. You called for your crew to pack up the stolen stuff and get back to the ship. With a shit eating grin you looked around the town, then made sure that none of your crew gets left behind. „Thanks for the goods and the entertainment“ you shouted dripping of arrogance. As you hurried back you smiled to yourself, thinking about how easily you defeated these people and why you didn’t fight them off in the first place. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t see the other ship that had arrived at the island, nor the men that have been watching the whole scene that just happened.

As you got closer to the beach a strange feeling started to spread through you. Out of instinct you reached for your sword but you didn’t have the time to pull it out when you heard a deep voice behind you. „Better keep your sword where it is. Wouldn’t want your crew to get hurt“ the voice grumbled. You immediately looked over to your crew and saw that they were held at gunpoint by some men you couldn’t quite recognize from the distance. You took a deep breath, you didn’t mind that someone was threatening you, you still had your devilfruit but what got you really nervous was the safety of your crew. If they get shot they’re going to die and that was a thought that made you a little scared and at the same time kinda angry. How dare some asshole threatening you and them. You let out a small angry huff and slowly turned around ready to attack that fucker behind you. But as soon as you turned around you felt the tip of a sword at your throat. You gasped. Not because of the sword but because you saw who was holding it. Red hair, scar over his eye, only one arm and an expression that made it clear that he was in a really bad mood. „Shanks“ you mumbled to yourself. You had never met the yonko before but you’ve heard a lot of stories about him and his men. For a moment you lost all your confidence, you were intimidated by his appearance. Fear struck you as you looked into his eyes. You bit your lower lip and looked over your shoulder to your crew before taking a deep breath. You knew you couldn’t let him see that you were in fact scared of him. Not now. Not with your crew in danger. So you did the only thing you could think of – be a pain in the ass. The most arrogant smile spread across your face as you looked back at him.

„Think that’s funny little lady?“ He hissed low and threatening. „Kinda,“ you said still with that smile on your face while deep inside you were shaking. „So it’s funny for you to have a sword at your throat and my men holding your crew at gunpoint“ he said pushing the sword a little into your skin drawing some droplets of blood. You gasped still trying to remain as cocky as you could. „Well, the thing is i could easily kill you right now. Sure you would probably slit my throat in that process but unlike you i won’t die“ you replied as you looked him deep in the eye. He raised a brow and looked over to his men then back at you. „I know“ he calmly hummed catching you by surprise. „I’ve heard of you and your devilfruit and i know that you have to be killed more than once but i think that doesn’t apply to your crew“ he said nodding over to them. „It’s up to you how this is going to end“ he added. You nibbled on your lips, looking down at the sand then over to your crew before looking down again. Well you knew you were screwed. There was no way to win this fight without losing either your lives or worse losing your entire mates. „What do you want?“ You asked defeated, avoiding his gaze. „You and your crew caused a lot of trouble in my territory“ His territory?!? How could you not see that this was HIS territory. You cursed yourself for being such an idiot and not realizing this. You vowed to never drink again when you reach an island. „See the people on this island depend on my protection therefore i cannot let you leave after destroying the bakery and fighting the towns people“ he growled as he leaned closer. You swallowed hard, his stare was so intense you were sure he could see inside your soul. At the same time you felt something else, something you haven’t felt in years. You had to look away, heart beating so fast you thought you’d lose one of your lives due to a heart attack. „What happened to that cocky attitude. Don’t tell me you’re scared“ he taunted and that’s when you snapped. You launched forward pushing the sword away from your throat with one hand, leaving a cut on it, while grabbing for your own with the other. Needless to say that was a really bad idea because just a few seconds later you heard a rumble from where your crew and then found yourself laying on your back in the sand, sting on your neck. „Don’t kill them, everything’s fine here. Seems the little lady got a bit offended“ shanks shouted over to his men. „Maybe you should stop playing around before someone gets hurt“ a tall muscular man with greyish hair and a scar on his face yelled over to shanks. „Calm down beck, I’ve got everything under control“.

You let out a small squeak when you felt shanks‘ sword move over your stomach up to your heart at the same time feeling blood run down your neck. Luckily for you the cut wasn’t too deep – no life wasted. „You almost got your crew killed“ shanks continued to taunt you. But he was right that was a close call and you finally had to admit it – there’s no way out of this. „Next wrong move and they die“ he scolded. „Just tell me what you want and stop being an asshole“ the words just blurted out of your mouth but shanks just looked at you amused. „Well if you’re that eager, i want your crew to rebuilt the bakery, give everything you’ve stolen back and i want them to stay here and help out for as long as it takes to humble you.“ He said kneeling down, his knee right next to your head. „If you think we’re“ you started but he interrupted you „I’m sorry, guess i didn’t make myself clear. I want your crew to stay here. You, little lady, will come with us“. You stared at him with wide eyes, mouth open to yell at him. But you couldn’t no words came out.

God no one ever told you what an attractive man the yonko was. No. You shook your head, now was not the time to swoon over him, he attacked you, threatened to kill your crew, he’s an asshole, a good looking one though. „Be a good girl and stop being a pain in my ass“. Shanks said with a cheeky smile, ripping you out of your thoughts. Does he know what you’re thinking, can he read your mind? His scary and intimidating expression seemed to fade as he put the sword away. „Now we will walk over to your crew and you will tell them that they’re going to stay here until we come back“ he commanded offering you his hand to help you up. For a moment you wanted to take it but then decided against it, shoving it away and getting up yourself. „Still being a brat huh“. You glared at him as he took a step closer. „Maybe I’ll have to teach you a lesson once we get on the ship“ he whispered in your ear, making you gasp and shudder. After explaining to your crew what’s going to happen and watching them walk back to the town accompanied by two of Shanks‘ men you felt the strong urge to run away. You didn’t want Shanks to teach you a lesson, nor to stay on his ship. Well you didn’t get far when suddenly two strong arms wrapped around you and threw you over his shoulder „Not so fast little lady.“ The man you recognized as benn beckmann scolded. Shanks and his men just chuckled as you tried to wriggle out of beckmanns grasp to no use. Once on the ship, beckmann followed shanks into a cabin. „She’s a spirited one, better be careful“ beckmann said to shanks as he put you down. „Don’t worry I’m gonna tame her“ Shanks said devilish grin on his face, while you started to feel a knot in your stomach. Tame you? What is that supposed to mean? Is he going to torture you? Now you started to panic but tried your best not to show it. Beckmann stepped closer one hand reaching for your sword the other grabbed your chin with one finger to make you look up at him. You swallowed trying not to break the eye contact between you two. After what felt like an eternity of him burning holes into your soul he let go of you and left the room without another word as you looked after him. „I can ask him to join us later on if you want.“ Shanks said with a small laugh looking you up and down. „But by the way you’re looking after him it seems you wouldn’t mind“

You just looked at him dumbstruck only now realizing that you’ve been biting your lower lip while your hands had a tight grip on your shirt. „But first I’ll have to teach you a lesson for what you did today“ he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. Out of instinct you put your hands up and on his chest. You were so close you could feel the warmness coming from his body. You knew you couldn’t resist him forever, especially not if he was this close. You looked down at his shirt, hands carefully moving to it’s buttons opening them one by one. Shanks watched you unbutton his shirt while his hand moved under yours caressing your stomach, making you twitch and gasp at the ticklish feeling. Once you were done he let you remove the shirt from him. „Now take your clothes off“ he commanded as he let go of you. „Make me“ you teased not sure if that was a good idea (given your streak of bad ideas it probably wasn’t). „I thought you wanted to teach me a lesson“you continued feeling as cocky as you did when you fought the towns people. But when you looked into his eyes you immediately started to regret saying that. They were full of mischief and his smile was devilish. You didn’t have time to react when he launched forward grabbing your hair and pushing you onto the bed behind him. „I wanted to go easy on you but i feel like you need someone to put you in place right now“ he hissed, as you tried to wriggle away. „Where do you think you’re going.“ He teased as he grabbed your ankle pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. He unbuckled his belt and got on top of you. „Keep in mind that everything happening now is your own fault“ he growled as he ripped your clothes from you. In an instant you were completely naked underneath the yonko. The sudden air on your exposed skin made you gasp. He leaned closer kissing around your breast while his hand moved on your inner thigh drawing circles getting closer and closer to your private part. You let out a moan as he bit down on one of your nipples, feeling a smile spread on his face. „You will be sorry after I’m done with you. Now let me hear you scream my name little lady“ he said as he kissed a way up to your face until his lips brushed yours as his hand finally made contact with your center. He got you so riled up but then denied you and that went on for some time till you were a begging and pleading mess. After Shanks thought that you’ve learned your lesson he made you cum over and over again. Needless to say that his name was heard all over the ship. As you went from one high to another you thought that maybe the decisions you made today weren’t that bad after all.