#in the past few months my remaining friends have talked to me a bit more than they had. i hadnt inititated communication bc when your mom

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 1: I'LL SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

rb sebastian vettel x gf!reader

word count: 4095

summary: seb's gf finds out she's pregnant, and she decides that hiding her pregnancy is the best she could do due to seb's career

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of cheating, curse words, angst, fighting. set on may 2013. for a bit of background: reader and seb have been friends since they were literal babies, but growing up their feelings changed and started dating on 2006.

a/n: this is actually the first chapter of the very first series, Infinity, i posted here! i had to cancel it because i had some problems with wattpad people telling me through indirects i copied their work and i got very, very unmotivated with this story i absolutely love (when actually this was a draft I had of a tom holland fic back in 2017 lol), but i'd love to post the following parts if you like this one! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You pulled the flush and got up, being careful not to get dizzy. You took some paper and wiped the corners of your mouth to remove any possible traces of vomit. You headed to the sink automatically, quickly pulling out the toothbrush you’ve gotten used to carrying since nausea became part of your daily routine. You really tried to get rid of the acidity in your throat and the bad taste in your mouth, but as you expected, and knowing you've been experiencing this more times than you'd like in the past month and a half, it was impossible.

"Y/N, are you still there? Are you okay?" Britta's voice, accompanied by a few knocks on the door, snapped you out of your trance. You startled and forced yourself to answer, even though it was the last thing you feel like doing.

"Yes, I’m coming. Just a sec!"

"Don’t take too long," she replied. "Not that I don’t want you to take your time, but Seb is worried."

Panic-stricken, you suppressed a laugh that almost escaped.

If only he knew what you were about to do…

"Don’t worry, I’ll be right out," you answered.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating your own reflection longer than you’d like. Minutes passed, and you almost completely lost track of time, aware that you needed to put an end to the intrusive thought that was telling you that what you were about to do was, wrong but inevitably the best thing.

You were going to break away from everything you’ve wanted since you were a child just because things hadn't turned out "right." Seb was at the peak of his professional career, constantly surpassing himself in every race, making history, while you remained stuck in your hometown, working at a bar, dealing with drunks and immature kids pretending to be adults daily, because you didn’t have the luck, or perhaps the financial means, to study what you had dreamed of since you were a child who just wanted to make music.

You leaned on the sink, feeling the cold starting to penetrate your body. A great tremor shook you, and it became increasingly difficult to stay on your feet. Your eyes filled with tears as you confronted the reality of what you were about to do, of the decision you'd made.

Since your boyfriend began not only achieving his dreams but making a name for himself, you thought you didn’t deserve him because you were heading in the opposite direction. Now that you’ve gotten pregnant by him, possibly because the birth control pills you were taking failed for some unknown reason, you felt like this even more.

Despite the love you still felt and possibly always will feel for Sebastian, since you took the pregnancy test with Hanna at one of the most secluded malls in Heppenheim, you knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was never part of your plans.

"Come on, Y/N…" you told yourself, still staring at your reflection. "This is for Seb. You're doing this for him and his career."

You took a deep breath a couple more times, feeling the knot in your throat choking you. You looked at the girl full of insecurities you were one more time. Her eyes reflected doubt and, above all, fear, and you sadly sensed that it will continue to be this way from now on.

Trying to control yourself, you slowly opened the bathroom door, as if wanting to torture yourself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until you closed the door a bit harder than you meant to.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving you an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?"

The knot in your throat seemed to tighten even more. See a doctor… Of course you’d been to the doctor! Four weeks and, as of today, four days pregnant was the answer, but no one beyond your parents and your best friend could know.

"Yes, I’m fine," you replied quickly, trying to fake your answer as best as you could. "Don’t worry. It’s probably just a bit of stress," you added, praying she believed you. "I haven't had time to see a doctor, but I assure you, with all my heart, that everything is fine."

And that's why you're leaving the love of your life today.

Britta seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly open, as if she wanted to say something. Her look gave you the feeling that she didn't quite believe what you were saying.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," she finally said, standing up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as calm as a lake, we’d better hurry up," she told you. "The last free practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried why we haven’t come back yet."

You prepared to leave the room with her. You were more than sure to go with her, but as you were almost out the room, you realize it was now or never.

You stopped before going from the driver’s room to the garage, watching Britta hurry down the stairs, probably aware that you were running late even though there were still about forty-five minutes before the session started.

"Wait, Britta. Just a sec!"

You were convinced your shout from the top of the stairs was heard by more people than you’d like. You wished you could turn invisible as you saw some eyes on you, including Britta’s, which made it hard to speak, and not to mention the variety of emotions you were feeling inside you.

You needed to calm down and act a bit better, or everything you’d been mulling over will end up falling apart.

"I’d like to talk to Seb… alone," you finally said.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she said your name much more seriously now. "You’ve told me that everything is fine, but… are you sure it really is? Are you sure nothing’s wrong?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, more things are happening than I’d like.

You knew you could trust Britta completely. You were sure that if you told her the news before you did to Seb, she wouldn’t say anything, at least not right away. You wanted to do it; in fact, you’d love to do it because she was like a second mother to you, but you knew you couldn't because, once you left, there’s a really high chance she might end up telling him everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry," you replied with a sigh, trying to console the PR woman and yourself. "I just need to talk to him about… well, a minor issue."

"Of course. Go get him, I’ll wait here. He’s probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He hasn’t gone far, especially considering how eager he was to see you."

"Can you get him for me?" you let it out casually.

You ignored her last comment because now, your nerves were eating you alive. Britta seemed to notice your anxiety, so you were grateful she ignored it and acted as if nothing is wrong.

You sighed in relief when you saw her nod, and you couldn't stop thanking her out loud for what she just did for you.

"Lie down on the physio’s couch and try to rest a bit, you look a bit pale," she insisted. Reluctantly, and after repeating it a couple more times, you finally listened to her. "Seb will be here soon. You know he’ll drop everything when it comes to you."

And it was true. Once she left, you remained lying down, drawing small shapes on your stomach with your index finger. As you whispered things to what would supposedly be your child, a whirlwind of varied thoughts flooded your mind.

A small pressure settled in your chest as you became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was becoming a reality. You didn't want to face it and largely refused to, but you knew that for both of you, especially him, it was actually the best.

Hiding the truth from the guy you’d loved longer than you’d like to admit is exactly the opposite of what you should do, but because he was the most important person in your life, and you knew him almost as well as yourself, you knew he'd have time to play moms and dads in real life.

This year, the only thing he should focus on was winning his fourth Formula 1 World Championship, not learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

Your thoughts vanished when the door opened abruptly, startling you. Seb appeared with his suit hanging at his waist, hair completely tousled, and a face revealing worry matching the situation you haven’t told him about yet.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you’re not well. What happened? Do you want to go to the doctor? I don’t care about missing the free practice: you’re the most important thing."

The German quickly took your cheeks in his hands. You hadn’t even sat up, and he was already trying to warm your face with his palms, moving it from side to side and examining you as if he was a doctor with the solution to your problems.

"I’m fine, love, relax," you said, breaking free from his grip.

"I know you better than I’d like, Y/N. You’re pale," he pointed out. "You rarely get pale. The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing an illegal concert in the school square."

Your anxiety grew more at his perception. You couldn't hide the lie you concocted with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I’m fine," you insisted, swallowing hard as you tried to find the right words.

He didn't seem to agree with your answer once again, and he didn't seem willing to let it go easily.

For a moment, you were tempted to tell him the truth, especially when you noticed his eyes fixed on you, not intending to look away until he found out what you really wanted to say… As if he wants to know that he was going to be a father next January if your gynecologist’s calculations and the latest technology were correct.

You mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed you completely. When he made a move to hug you and you fell into his arms, you knew you couldn't keep dodging the truth.

"Seb…" you started to say, slowly pulling away from him, "the truth is that... well, there's something wrong."

He clenched his jaw and got very serious.

"Tell me, Y/N. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but…" you began calmly, your voice breaking. "This is different, and it’s going to be a bit difficult."

"What do you mean by different and difficult? Y/N, what’s going on?"

Your hands fidgeted nervously as you tried to find the best way to cause him the least harm possible. You noticed that the German's nervous and worried tone had dissipated, and now it was anger that seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting you," you admitted in a whisper.

There it was, you had let it slip.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you decided to wait for Sebastian’s response. Anguish had taken hold of him, and you knew he was waiting for your words as much as you were waiting for his.

His behavior wasn’t helping you; on the contrary, the feeling of guilt was consuming you, as you had foreseen, but there was no turning back now.

It was impossible for you to even think coherently enough to say something that made sense.

You watched as your boyfriend’s gaze turned into pure pain, a pleading search for answers that you didn’t dare to give him.

"Seb…" you spoke again, struggling to maintain your composure and reaching for his hand at the same time. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Y/N," he called you by your full name. That was the indicator that things weren’t going well and wouldn’t be again. "Whatever it is, I’ll be able to deal with it."

"I don’t want us to be together anymore," you declared. "I’m not in love with you anymore. I haven’t been for about a month or so."

The silence that flooded the room after your false confession was too uncomfortable. His eyes filled with tears; yours did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought you had stopped loving him when, in fact, you loved him more than ever, especially now.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Y/N?" he wanted to know. "I thought we were great… I really believed we were better than ever."

"I don’t know, Seb," you murmured between sobs, trying to hide your face so he wouldn’t see how truly affected you were. "There are… there are couples that stop loving each other, and that’s what I think has happened with me. With us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can’t do anything, Seb, and I’m really sorry," you falsely admitted with sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea.

"Sometimes things stop being what they were in the beginning, and, well… ours is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course, it’s not what it used to be! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this on me, Y/N!" Sebastian yelled at you.

"I was even going to ask you if you wanted us to get…"

"And that’s why I feel it’s better if we move on, but each on our own path!" you interrupted with another shout.

It’s not real, Y/N. Everything you’re saying is a lie.

You inhaled and exhaled more times than you would have liked, but it felt necessary. This charade to try to make Seb’s life a little better was not only costing you your relationship but also your mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Y/N?"

Vettel's voice denoted anger. Rage consumed him at the possibility that there was an answer he didn’t want to hear. His fists, clenched tightly and turning his knuckles white, were proof of it.

"No, not exactly."

And once again, the camouflaged truth.

"What are you saying?" he spat at you, getting closer and closer, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but… yes. There is someone else, Seb," you admitted.

The shouts, full of reproaches, insults, and slurs, flooded the room.

You tried to turn a deaf ear. You thought this was all part of a performance and tried to convince yourself that in the future, everything would be fine when you knew it would be the opposite.

"How could you do this to me, Y/N?! How could you cheat on me after almost seven fucking years together?!" Sebastian shouted, taking out his anger on a vase on his desk, throwing it to the ground, spilling the water and the flowers he had given you just a day ago.

"We’ve been through so many things together. We’ve grown up together and fulfilled our dreams together, and now you’re leaving me for some guy you must have slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" you replied, your words true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," you said, showing your disagreement on that topic that you knew hurt you and that he had mentioned to hurt you. "While you’ve been living your life as a driver and being the center of attention, I’ve kept working in the same disgusting bar full of creepy old men I’ve been working at since I finished high school," you shouted, furious. You knew this kind of stress wasn’t good for the baby, but right now you didn’t care. "I’ve been saving as much as I could to build a prosperous future even though my salary was a pittance, composing songs and singing them with the hope that they’ll reach someone someday and not be forgotten."

"I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to work in that fucking bar full of drunk old men who fuck you with their eyes to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With what they pay me we can live comfortably. It's more than enough for both of us."

"I know," you responded calmly, though you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, "but I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone’s help."

The blonde let out an ironic laugh. Immediately, he crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at you.

"You’ve always been too stubborn, Y/N. Now I see what your future expectations are. After all, I understand: if you never got into the Berlin Art Academy on your own, and you’re still working at the same place after so long…"

You stood still, not knowing what to say or do because you knew exactly what he meant with every word that came out of his mouth. It felt like your feet were cemented to the ground; his words continuously hitting you, wanting to hurt you more and more.

"How dare you to say that to me?"

If you were already shaken and almost broken after this whole conversation, now you were completely sunk. Seeing your reaction, tears streaming down your cheeks non-stop, he seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached you, opening his arms intending for you to bury yourself in them. You, as stubborn as he said you were, refused not only the hug but any physical and non-physical contact he wanted to have with you.

"Y/N, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say that," yes, that was clear, but it had already been said, and the damage was done. "I was wrong. Please forgive me."

No matter how much he kept talking, trying to apologize and make amends, there was nothing else to do.

Without saying anything else, you began to gather all your belongings from the driver’s room of who could now be considered your ex-boyfriend. You didn’t want to do it; you didn’t want to start the zero-contact phase with the boy you had loved since you were ten years old, the one who had loved you like no one ever had before and like no one ever would.

You were saying goodbye to the father of your child to venture into raising her alone so he could pursue his dream in peace and achieve all the successes he so longed for.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Packing. I’m leaving.”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor, your hands fumbling with the few belongings left to pack in the small backpack you usually took to the paddock. Now, you would have to return to your hotel room and quickly pack everything into the suitcase, rush to the airport, and pray you didn’t miss the flight.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” the blonde frowned, incredulous. “It’s Friday, Y/N, we have the whole weekend ahead of us.”

“Well, from now on, you’ll have all the weekends to yourself,” you shook your head, unable to bear his comments trying to make you stay. “From now on, you won’t have me here on weekends, nor in your life. I’m leaving your life, and I’m not coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing the finality of your words.

Vettel was speechless at your declaration. He kept shaking his head, approaching you, trying to take your belongings, but you stopped him.

No matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t going to stay.

“What do you mean by ‘leaving my life and not coming back’?”

“It means I’m going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian,” you turned to him, trying to maintain composure. “I’m going back, you’ll also end up going back even though we live… you live in Switzerland,” you immediately corrected yourself, “but I hope we never see each other again.”

The firmness behind your words scared you. Everything was a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had grown until you doubted what was real and what wasn’t.

“I really hope you achieve everything you are working hard for,” you continued, insisting to yourself not to break down right there. “I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones you’ve wanted for. You, more than anyone, deserve all of it, and I know you’re capable of that and much more.”

You said nothing more because you had stopped being strong. You left, without looking back, the room where you had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and you.

You carefully descended the stairs. You walked with a false sense of security through the RedBull garage, dodging any questions about why you were crying, where you were going, and if you had argued with the team’s golden boy, including the endless questions from Britta Roeske that you were trying to ignore at all costs.

You felt curious eyes following you wherever you went, but you didn’t care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, it was just you and the little pea, or whatever size the baby was.

“Y/N, wait!”

Sebastian’s desperate shouts echoed behind you, getting closer.

You stopped dead, clutching the only strap of the backpack hanging over your shoulder. You slowly turned toward the direction the voices seemed to be coming from and saw the driver running to you, almost choking, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even those still falling from his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice was choked, and his hands acted on their own. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where you tasted each other’s tears as you had done many times in your relationship. Where you silently said millions of I love yous that only you and he knew perfectly.

“Please, don’t go, sunshine,” the German expressed. “Whatever it is, we can work on it, but please, don’t let us end.”

“I love you too, Seb, but there’s someone else.”

You finally confessed… not in the most ideal way, but in the right one, especially considering what your goal was after all this trail of lies.

“There’s a new person in my life, and I’m afraid to say that no matter how much I love you, I love them more than I love you, and I always will,” you continued, knowing that every word you were saying about your baby was true. “I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I’ll never stop loving you, but that person is my main priority right now.”

“Have you been unfaithful?”

Sometimes silence is worth more than a thousand words. In this case, it was the exact opposite.

You stood in front of him for a few seconds, debating internally whether to answer or leave as calmly as possible, without attracting more attention than you already had. You decided on the latter because you couldn’t speak, and the tears wouldn’t let you see clearly; not to mention your judgment was so clouded that you couldn’t think clearly about the next step to end this nightmare.

You finally directed one last look at Seb; whispered that you loved him and always would, even though it was over between you.

All it took was for you to lower your head, turn around, and continue walking, fighting not to look back, to realize that you had made the biggest mistake of your life and would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive yourself.

And you knew perfectly well that Seb wouldn’t either.

[angelicblondie]

what about luke castellan x ballerina!reader but she had to give up ballet when she went to camp and he like finds her dancing in the forest one night. maybe when he’s a little busy with like backstabbing everyone but yk🤷‍♀️

(like meet me in the pale moonlight or tomorrow never came coded like ughh😩😩)

wait...i adore this. as a dancer this made my heart actually jump for joy.

every night, luke was plagued with dreams. the not good kind, more specifically.

it started a few months ago. the deep ancient voice of a titan long imprisoned would echo through his mind, urging his darkest desires of revenge and shameful need for power to the forefront of his thoughts. he was angry, angry at the gods for ignoring him and all their other children. he wanted to stop this system, he was full of bitterness.

so the voice in his head was appealing. he knew that it probably wasn't morally good to listen to the evil titan kronos, but then again, if it all ended up with the system of the gods abolished, he could live with that.

but anyways, the point is, dreams invaded the peace luke found in his unconscious state, and sometimes, it was too much. sure, he agreed with the titan, but he wasn't ready to abandon home and betray his friends, not when they were the only ones who accepted him. he couldn't do that, no matter how much to words appealed to him.

so, when the hermes cabin felt suffocating, and his mind was reeling, late at night, luke would venture off into the woods.

luke felt at comfort with the odd eeriness that filled the late night air - he didn't jump or flinch at the sounds of leaves crunching or bushes rustling - he felt at peace with the scary.

that was, until he saw footsteps in the mud.

curious, luke followed the trail, until he reached an more open area of the forest, and he leaned up against a tree, taking in the sight in front of him with pure curiosity.

there you were, wearing grey sleep shorts, a black tank top, and a pink cardigan, dancing in the middle of this forest.

you seemed to be in your own world, sneakers planted in the ground as you did some simple plies, and luke watched, transfixed by the sight. your hair was tied up by a pink ribbon, and you had the most peaceful expression on your face, not one luke had ever seen before.

you were relatively new to camp, only having arrived in the past year. you were quickly claimed by your mother, aphrodite, and gained a fast group of friends and a positive reputation. luke and you hadn't talked much - sure, he gave you your tour, and the two of you had got on quite well, but once you got claimed, he didn't have much time to talk to you, given the rapid enthusiasm of your siblings.

he didn't know you were a dancer, a good one in fact. you elegantly pranced around, your feet moving quickly yet gracefully. luke was mesmerized - he had never really seen anything like it, like you. you seemed so free - so unburdened by the struggles of being a demi god. just you, alone (kind of?), dancing - luke guessed like every other demigod, you had found your own way to feel normal in this crazy world.

eventually, your eyes caught luke, and you stumbled back, imidiatley flushing. gods, you were mortified!

"l-luke? what are you doing here?" you exclaimed indignantly.

luke remained leaned up against the tree, the corners of his lips tilting upwards. "was on a walk, happend to come across you."

you huff. "how long have you been there?"

he shrugs, standing up straight. "not long." he walks forwards a bit, closer to where you stood. "you dance?"

wasnt it obvious? you thought, but awkwardly twiddled your thumbs. "well, used to, i guess. cant really anymore, cause....you know." you say, your voice somewhat shy.

luke humed in recognition. "yeah, the whole demigod thing doesnt help. wouldnt be fun if a cyclops showed up to a rectial, huh?" he said, the dry yet teasing humour in his voice elicited a giggle from your lips. "guess not," you agree softly, your eyes twinkling happily.

luke, feeling a little bashful, rubbed the back of his neck. "uh, your really good by the way. i feel a bit bad interrupting, you were in the zone."

you bite your lip, feeling a bit embarrassed. "yeah well, theres never really time to dance anymore, so i guess whenever i cant sleep i come out here to." you look him up and down. "is that why you're out here? you cant sleep?"

luke hums. "yeah. nightmares," he simplifies, his thoughts being brought back to the reason he left his cabin.

you blow out a breath of air. "hate those," you mumble.

luke observes you. "you enjoying camp?" he asks, changing subject.

you smile a little, nodding. "yeah, its different then what i thought it would be. it actually been really great, my sibling have been super welcoming," you say, your voice sounding so genuine and enthusiastic it was hard for luke not to smile.

his lips quirk up, eyes filled with a bit of mischief. "yeah, well, camp'll do that for you."

you bite your lip, almost as if you were contemplating your next words. "y'know, i haven't seen much of you since i got here. you must be busy."

luke chuckles a bit. "why, have you been looking for me?"

his flirty words heated your cheeks and you let out a nervous laugh. "no!" yes. "i was just wondering."

luke poked his tongue to the inside of his cheek. "right, right."

you talked for a little longer, before luke escorted you back to your cabin. you thanked him with a quick kiss to the cheek before running inside, and luke walked back to his own cabin, distracted from the overbearing titan in his dreams, even if only for a little while.

[killerlookz]

Hello my fellow Criminal Minds fan! 😊

May I please request headcanons for Spencer falling for a female agent who’s cynical about love and relationships due to being hurt in the past?

a/n: thank you sm for the request! i'd be happy to write this for you! :-)

Falling in Love Again | Spencer Reid Headcannons

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

content: mentions of reader having been cheated on in the past, uhhhh that's really it haha

word count: 1,478 (sorry she's so long)

Spencer Reid had always been excited about falling in love, the thought of being so close to another person- to share so much with someone was such a wonderful thing to him.

Especially after watching his mom and dad growing up, and the way his father treated her-Spencer was dead set on never becoming anything like him, he looked forward to treating a woman right and spending the rest of his life with her.

But, for as excited as he was he was probably 20 times more nervous about the whole falling in love thing.

So when you came around, and he started to experience that warm, creeping feeling in his chest- he felt a little bit like his world was going to end.

Spencer had never made a move on anyone before, sure he did make out with Lila Archer that one time but he didn't exactly initiate it.

Spencer decided just to channel all of his romantic interest in becoming friends with you, at least he got to spend time with you, that's what really mattered to him. Maybe one day it would turn into something more.

Well.. he hoped until he couldn't help but overhear...

"I went on my first date in months last night, and all this guy did was talk about himself the entire time- didn't let me get a word out, I mean, can you believe it?" Emily says, exasperated

You look up at her as she stands in front of your desk, "Oh, trust me Emily, I can believe it." You shake your head

"I mean," She throws her hands up, "What is it with men? What's wrong with them."

"Everything," You smirk, "They're men. I can't remember I had a good experience with one of them- never maybe?" You laugh. "I've given up on dating."

Your words sunk into Spencer's brain, leaving him with a heavy feeling all around he felt awful- not just about the fact that his chances with you seemed to reduce to zero right there in that moment, but because of how upset you seemed under your sarcastic exterior, he could tell you'd really been hurt before.

A few weeks later you're out for drinks with Emily, Penelope, Morgan, Spencer, and JJ. Amidst the loud, drunken conversations and music at the bar- you can hear the faint chiming sounds of your ring tone, Who would be calling this late?

As you take your phone from your pocket, your stomach drops when you see the number flashing on the screen. The mere sight of those 10 digits making you want to throw your phone to the ground and stomp on it until nothing remains.

"Ooooh, who's that calling." Morgan smirks

You look him dead in the eyes and respond flatly, "My ex."

Morgan's smile doesn't fade instead his smirk seems to deepen, "You two got a little thang goin on?"

"No," You shove your phone back in your pocket, "More like he's trying to get back in my pants after cheating on me- twice."

"Ooh!" Morgan responds, wincing, "So he's a dog."

"A pig is more like it." You scoff, "Who does he think he is. I can't even imagine giving my time to another man again, and even if I could- what makes him so confident I'd give him the time of day."

That familiar heavy pain hits Spencer again.

He's staring at you, and it's like the rest of the bar doesn't even exist. Only you, as you bite your lip, trying to hide any emotion in your face.

Spencer has become good at reading your emotions, maybe it's because he spends so much time with you- maybe it's because of how often he finds himself staring at your face. As much as you try to seem nonchalant, he could tell how upset you are.

Spencer would spend more time than he wanted to admit fantasizing about treating you well, about giving you the love you never seemed to have.

Every time you made a snarky comment about love, or how men had treated you in the past Spencer would want so desperately bad to just tell you about how well he would treat you, how he would never ever hurt you, how he would spend his entire life taking care of you.

The words were practically scratching up his throat, begging to be let out. But still, he would just swallow them down, and give you a sympathetic look, he couldn't muster up being able to do anything more.

At the very least, Spencer's plan of becoming friends with you was working.

The two of you would become very good friends.

Spencer would learn everything he could about you, he would want to know as much as possible.

Not in a weird creepy way- but in a he just thinks you're so amazing he can't get enough of you sort of way.

Every time you and Spencer hung out he wouldn't be able to ignore that nagging feeling, the thought of putting an arm around you and pulling you close, of holding your hand in his, or placing a delicate kiss on your cheek.

The thoughts would eat away at Spencer, and he would only fall more, and more in love with you.

Still, he would lose more hope every time you divulged information about your prior encounters with love. He couldn't blame you for feeling so cynical it, not after what you'd been through.

Spencer would think about his mom, about all the wives Rossi had been through, about Hotch and Hailey, about you- he would wonder why love had to be so painful for some people. He was sure he would never hurt somebody he loved.

One day you're over Spencer's apartment, watching a rom-com, and you make a snide remark, "Oh, real love isn't like that." You scoff and roll your eyes.

Spencer doesn't know what it is, but something in him makes him respond, "It could be." He says meekly

You look up at him, caught off guard at his disagreement, "Hm?" you hum

Spencer wasn't able to take it any more, he hated hearing your cynical nature. He would need you to know how you deserved the entire world.

"Love- It can be like the movies." He affirms his stance.

"Not in my experience."

"I would give you love like that." Spencer would tremble as he makes his confession, so unsure of what would happen next.

He would be terrified of your reaction, scared he was about to mess everything up, ruin any future the two of you had together, and even worse, lose your friendship.

"W-what do you mean, Spence."

"I mean, you always talk about how you've been hurt before, and it just-" He takes a deep breath in, contemplating what he's going to say next, "I love you, y/n," He looks down at his lap, then back up at you, "I would never hurt you."

Despite the obvious passion in Spencer's voice, you were still hesitant about it, but everything inside of you told you to give Spencer a chance.

Spencer would insist on taking things slow, you were his first real relationship and he wouldn't want to rush things, for both his and yours sake. He wouldn't pressure you to put a label on things, or even say you're "dating"- those would come on your own time.

Spencer was determined to make you believe in love again, and he would do everything in his power to make sure you knew without a doubt how he felt about you.

Spencer would often get to work before you to surprise you with coffee and a breakfast sandwich, or a donut on your desk in the mornings.

He would insist on having a date night at least once a week, even if the two of you were on a case, ordering room service or finding a local pizza restaurant way late at night was sufficient, as long as the two of you got to spend time together.

Spencer would be hesitant about PDA or really moving too quickly into being too affectionate, still, he would frequently hold your hand, squeezing it tight when he could tell you were stressed or upset- either by a case or by life in general, he just wanted to give you that extra reassurance that he was there for you.

Spencer would really put the work in, he'd exert more effort than you had ever seen from any past relationship into even the tiniest things.

Spencer wouldn't mind though, anything he could do to reassure you that he loves and cares about you, he would do it.

Every little act of love and gratitude would be worth it to him.

He would savor and cherish every hug, every shared glance, every peck on the forehead, on the cheek, on the lips.

It was all worth it to him, every second of it- all he wanted to do was make you smile, to make you fall in love again.

[bumblesimagines]

“then shut up and kiss me already.”

- Paul Lahote

“then shut up and kiss me already.” changed this line a bit

pronouns: they/them, gender neutral

It'd been a devastating and hectic month for the Clearwater household. From the unexpected passing of your father to your siblings suddenly shifting, it seemed as if you couldn't catch a break. You had to pause your life in California to return to Washington out of grief and concern for your family, having to put in a notice at your job and assure friends and colleagues you were alright.

But you most certainly weren't.

Even with Leah being a year older than you, responsibility always seemed to fall on your shoulders and thus you were left to pick up the pieces. From ensuring Sam was willing to keep an eye on your siblings to planning the funeral with your mother, your time back in La Push felt more like work than anything else.

Which was why, you found yourself at the beach, feet covered by cool sand and wind gently caressing your skin. The beach had been the best part of living in La Push. The sound of the waves always helped back in high school, back when life felt equally as chaotic. You'd been there to witness Leah's breakdown when Sam abruptly left her for your cousin and watched Seth's older friends slowly distance themselves to join Sam's pack.

"You doin' okay?" A voice called out and you looked over your shoulder, peering up at Paul Lahote. You'd seen him around once or twice, though only properly met him at Sam's place a week prior. Since then, most of Sam's pack seemed to keep an eye on you. You chalked it up to Sam expressing concern over your tired state.

"As well as can be given everything." You responded and his face dropped, a grim frown appearing on his face. It was surprising to see him so... hurt and concerned. Leah had complained plenty of times about him over the phone, mentioning his overconfident and short-tempered behavior often.

"If you..." He trailed off, voice full of uncertainty. "If you need anything, I'm here. I'll get you whatever you want, whatever you need."

"That's really sweet of you, Paul." His eyes shot up to meet yours, smile tugging at his lips at your words. Your brows furrowed and you reached out to pat the sand beside you. Without a second of hesitation, Paul took the offer and sat down. His keen eyes remained on you and your face, constantly studying and analyzing. You pressed your lips together and his gaze jumped down to them, his expression suddenly becoming shy.

Oh, Christ...

"Paul..."

"Yeah?"

"Did you imprint on me?" You asked softly, watching his features contort into guilt. He dipped his head and sighed heavily, silently nodding and confirming your suspicions. You turned your attention back out to the waves and hummed quietly. The way your skin warmed and your stomach fluttered annoyed you, but you couldn't deny the relief of knowing the universe had given you a soulmate, someone who you'd spend the rest of your life with.

"I know it's not a good time but we can't control it. I was- I wanted to wait until after the funeral 'cause I knew you've been busy these past few weeks but just looking at you makes my chest hurt. I know we just met and you're Emily's cousin but I can't stand seeing you like this. I-I can keep my distance, if you want. I'll wait days, weeks, months until you want to talk-"

“Shut up and kiss me already, Paul."

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 1

Title: Same coin, different faces

PAIRING: Bang Chan x Reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Despite not being together with Chan anymore, you somehow end up in the back of his car...fogging up the windows.

TAGS: pre-established breakup trope, swearing, a dash of angst but also a hint of resolve, mentions of alcohol (neither the reader nor Chan is drunk), a bit of manhandling by both parties, oral sex (reader receiving), car sex, unprotected, sort of hate/rough sex. 

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER LIST

(This is currently unedited but I will be proofing it later on)

It wasn’t as fun as you had hoped it to be, a party that is. Given it was the end of the semester, people usually prefer to go all out - which they did, but you weren’t feeling it. There were far too many people off of their faces, including your entire friend group that you showed up with.

Two of them were playing drinking games in the kitchen, one of them - Minho, who had completely disappeared for the past few hours, and another one who had found himself someone to hook up with. 

In the end, you were on your own for the remainder of the party. After having found a way into the lounge through the masses of people attending and remained on the couch, watching those around you for a while, you decided to get back up and grab a drink. There wasn’t an entire selection to choose from; either warm beer or cheap wine, which you grab from the latter and pour some in a plastic cup to try and fit in with everyone else. 

The briny taste of the wine was enough to make you think that maybe it was time to go home. It wasn’t fun, interesting, nor a good way to spend your time on a Friday night. Before being able to make the decision to leave, you find yourself planted on the ground when your eyes catch onto a familiar figure amongst the people. 

Chan. Your ex-boyfriend - your ex-best friend at that too. 

It was a surprise to see him given that he isn’t really a party goer, but also a surprise to see him in general after the pair of you went through such a tumultuous breakup a month ago. Things just didn’t work out the way they were supposed to which was unfortunate because Chan is one of a kind.

There isn’t anybody like him that exists in this world. He’s gentle, caring, and has a bottomless well of love to give. Now that you’re not together anymore, you know that whoever he ends up with in the future is well taken care of. 

“Hi,” Chan says, walking up to you. 

“Hey,” you respond back, unsure of how to actually talk to him now. “What are you doing here?” 

Chan sighs, looking at the screen of his phone momentarily then turning his attention back to you, “trying to find Minho. I’m here to pick him up, but I can’t find him. Is he here?”

“I haven’t seen him for the past couple of hours,” you answer. “I highly doubt he’s actually here still.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, “course he’s not.”

“He probably went to Jisung’s at some point,” you add.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he replies before his eyes peer down at the plastic cup. “Drinking? That’s not like you.” 

“It’s the end of the semester,” you say in your own defence. “I was trying to finish off strong.”

“Right. Have you got a ride home then?” 

Your eyes dart beyond Chan to ‘your ride home’ who has probably now consumed half of his body weight in alcohol. Chan catches your gaze, turns around and sees Seungmin throwing back another shot with a couple of strangers, presumably his classmates.

Chan sighs once more and faces you again, “don’t tell me he was supposed to sober drive.” 

“He won’t be now,” you respond. 

“Okay well, I can drop you off. Minho’s not replying and he’s probably not here, plus I’m getting tired,” he offers. 

You ponder for a moment. Since Chan had come up to you, you hadn’t felt that sting of pain that a breakup usually induces. Not since the day you both called it quits on the relationship. But that’s only because things were never awkward with him. It’s only until now that you realise how depleting life has been without him. It’s not colourful anymore. 

It’s an issue because you don’t want to be reminded of what you don’t have anymore. Sometimes, the best things can be the worst for us. 

“It’s okay, thank you though,” you decline respectfully. “I might tell the others to get ready to head off.” 

“And who’s going to drive them? You?” He asks with a brow raised then shakes his head with disapproval. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Not that much,” you retort. “I’m not even tipsy, plus I don’t want to leave them behind.”

“Seems like they left you behind,” Chan points out a very good point which you find hard to not be in denial about. 

He takes the plastic cup out of your hand and places it on the nearest surface cluttered with other discarded items. He then returns back to you to gently take hold of your wrist and leads you out of the lounge full of people. 

“Wait-”

“I’m not letting you drive under the influence, end of story,” he decides. 

With that matter in hand, you’re quickly reminded that Chan has always had a strong head on his shoulders and his morals are very clear cut. He held reasonably strong opinions on doing unnecessarily dangerous things, particularly when it comes to you. It happened to be one of the poisonous factors that pierced the final dagger into the relationship. 

The cold air then hits you when you both make it out into the front yard. 

“I can walk thank you,” you say to Chan who forgets that he’s still holding your wrist. He looks down at his hand and releases. 

“Sorry,” he apologises. “Car’s this way.”

He leads you once more just across the street to the vehicle while you think about the fact that you never actually agreed you were going to accept his offer to take you home. In saying that, there was no other alternative other than walking which Chan wouldn’t have put up with anyway. 

The pair of you hop in his car, finally able to catch a break from the blaring music that was blasting throughout the house. After both of your seatbelts are on, Chan starts the car and drives away down the street. 

It’s not long until silence falls quickly. Things had never been this terribly awkward between you both, but there had been pockets of quietness which used to be comfortable to sit in. Now you can see that it’s not as nice. 

“So what have you been up to these days?” Chan asks out of the blue, breaking that silence. 

“Nothing interesting I guess,” you answer blandly. “Just studies and that’s it.” 

He nods, “how’s that going so far?”

“Fine, I suppose.”

Chan lets out a small huff, “you know, it’s still okay for us to talk right? We don’t need to be so hostile.”

The glow of your phone from your lap catches your attention away from his comment. You blink down at the screen and read a text from Felix. 

Lix: ‘Saw you leave with Chan. Please tell me you’re both back on.’ 

You roll your eyes. You love Felix, but sometimes he can be too optimistic. There wasn’t any way you and Chan were going to find your way back to each other. If anything, it wouldn’t be the same anymore. 

“I wasn’t being hostile, plus there’s not much to my answer anyway unless you want me to lie?” You respond back.

“No, I don’t want you to lie,” Chan adjusts his tight grip on the steering wheel. “But you speaking just proves my point on why we shouldn’t act like that.” 

You turn your head, shooting him a well-deserved glare. This isn’t usually how Chan acts. He never says backhanded things as such even though he can be relatively blunt. Whatever subtle malice was behind his words obviously came from the same place that helped the relationship tear apart. 

“This is why we never worked out because you always had to have some degree of control,” you scoff, ignoring the fact that you’ve now doused the flicker of the argument with petrol.

“I was only doing what I though was safest for you,” Chan argues back strongly. “It was never about having any type of control, it was because you couldn’t see what the consequences were.” 

“Then why couldn’t you have let me figure it out for myself? How else am I supposed to learn, when you’re not here anymore?” 

“You, driving drunk isn’t something that you just learn not to do. You don’t do it, full stop. Anyone with common sense knows that,” Chan bites back. 

“I’m not even talking about that! When have I ever driven drunk? Now you’re just fucking reaching for things! All I’m saying is that it didn’t matter how much time I spent with you, I never got to be my own person. It was like I was turning into another ‘you’.”

Chan shrugs, “in comparison to what you can be like sometimes, I honestly don’t think that’s so much of a bad thing.” 

The last nerve inside you, had been struck.

“Stop the car, I’m getting out.” 

“No, we’re nearly at your h-”

“I don’t care Chris, I seriously don’t want to be anywhere near you right now,” you cut him off sharply, not wanting to hear another word come out of his mouth. 

Chan looks over at you, absorbing how painfully angry you look right now and the fact that your hand is on the door handle, ready to bolt as soon as he pulls over. It was fairly obvious because once he did, you were out of the vehicle before he could say anything more. But as fast as you are out the door, Chan is already on the other side to meet you. 

“Don’t go home angry,” he says urgently. 

You shoot him a dirty look, thinking who the hell is he to tell you what to do, “or what?”

“Well can we at least talk then?” He questions, trying to grasp onto some common ground here. 

With as much force as you can muster, your arms come up to shove Chan by the chest, “fuck you.”

He stumbles back a few steps and is not as nearly as surprised as you are by your own behaviour. Never has anyone elicited as much of a reaction from you until now. The shock has you to the point where you can barely assemble an apology to Chan. Even so when he comes back forward, grabbing you by the sides of your arms, and shoving you right back against his own car. 

Before either of you say another word, his mouth crashes straight against yours. His swift hands are quickly groping and roaming in every place around your body that he can reach while you submit to his moves. You’ve forgotten how electrifying Chan can be at times when it comes to intimacy, that you really start to feel it when he slides his knee in between your thighs. 

You gasp against his lips, yelping almost when his hands reach behind you to squeeze your ass and to try to bring your body as impossibly close to his as he can. For a split second, you break away to consolidate what is happening. Chan remains latched onto you, his mouth now working its way to your jaw and down to your throat, sucking and biting into your skin. 

Neither of you care about whether or not he’s going to mark you up. All you care about at this point in time, is the hope that he’s going to fuck you. 

“The door…open the door,” you mumble to him, even though you’re trying to find the handle yourself. 

Even with the unshakeable frame of mind that he’s in right now, Chan listens to you. He pulls you forward with him so that he can yank the backdoor open. You hop onto the seat, pushing yourself backwards to the other side of the car to create room for him to join you. But Chan had his own idea planted already. 

He grabs you by the ankles and pulls you right back to the edge of the seat closest to him. His hands take pride in reaching underneath your skirt and tearing your underwear down your legs. 

He doesn’t even get the opportunity to fully take them off as they dangle on one leg. In saying that, it doesn’t take you very long to click onto what he wants to do. So you help him by doing your best to hike your skirt further up your thighs. Chan decides to take a few seconds to appreciate being able to relive this moment once more by using his thumb to swipe over your wet slit, collecting your juices only to bring it up to his mouth and suck it right off. 

“Fucking missed this,” he speaks for the first time in about five minutes before lifting both of your legs and separating them for his head to slot in perfectly between. 

The fan of his hot breath washes over your skin, already making your squirm forward towards his mouth. It’s been a long time since someone had touched you and Chan could tell. He knows how needy you can be, but not when you’re like this. Not when you’re straining to reach for the back of his head to pull him closer to your pussy. Not when you’re already moaning when he’s barely touched you.

Not when you’re wetter than what he usually thinks you are.

“Y-Yes…right there,” you sigh out and lie back down, waiting eagerly. 

One of your hands threads through his dark hair and tugs every time he sucks on your clit. Shivers of pleasure reverberate throughout your body, already making your legs tremble on his shoulders. If anyone were to drive past, you know you and Chan would get done for public indecency. Except that devious consequence became an elicit far away thought drowned out by your own moans the more Chan continued to eat you out. 

The best thing about it is that he’s not going easy on you. He’s being deceptively rough by digging his nails into your thighs and showing zero remorse when he relentlessly licks over that same sweet spot. The more work he puts into trying to make you cum, the harder he gets in his pants, straining at this point.

“P-Please Chan, hurry,” you cry out, trying to sit up and slide down further into his mouth. “Need to cum, please.”

When your begging and moaning become increasingly louder and more frequent, Chan knows you’re on the cusp of an orgasm. However, as much as he used to enjoy you cumming on his face, the idea of you cumming on his cock is just as good, if not better. So just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Chan pulls back. 

You blink in amongst the haziness of what was about to be a mind shattering orgasm to see Chan who’s head had lifted up from in between your legs. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices, and is completely unashamed about it. 

“You can just fucking wait,” he snaps and begins to adjust your legs so that he makes sure they cage his body at his sides, that way he can grab onto your thighs and fuck you hard and steady. 

Although you can barely see, you hear the zipper to his pants open before he takes out his cock, hard and ready to put it to use on you. You bite down on your bottom lip when Chan uses his tip to tease your entrance. He pushes his hips forward, enough to make his cock slide up and in between your pussy. 

Chan’s shaky hand manages to get a proper hold around his dick, aligning it with your wet hole, and slowly pushes in as the heat begins to encapsulate around his length. The top half of his body nearly falters forward if it weren’t for his hips that thrust forward first. 

“Chris…” you mutter in an aspirated voice, feeling the fullness of his cock stretch you out.  

There is no forewarning for the strength he has behind each buck of his hips. It takes you back to times before during your relationship and how deliciously memorable the sex always was. Chan’s main priority was to always make you cum first and regardless of his own needs and pleasure. Whether you misbehaved or were being an outright undeserving brat in bed, even then he would still let you cum. That’s how much he loved you. 

“Nobody can ever fuck you the way I do,” Chan grits his teeth, his eyes watching his cock disappear inside of you each time he rams forward, hard and fast. 

Every second that goes by, you’re grappling more and more onto your last threads of sanity. It’s hard to keep up and absorb Chris’s stamina and pace - a relentless and unapologetic pace that hits the same spot inside you over and over again until that build up of pleasure starts spreading around your lower abdomen. 

“Make me feel…so good,” you mumble incoherently. “Gonna make me cum.” 

It’s been a long time since Chan has heard you say those words - hell, even heard you moan at the very least. It’s enough to keep his pace steady but he’s very wary of the fact that he himself is already near the edge of an orgasm too. Nonetheless, he’s determined to get you there first once more. 

So Chan lets go of one of your legs at his side so that he can use his thumb to now rub fast circles over your clit. Your hands grip at the hem of your skirt, back arching as you start submitting to the crest of intense pleasure Chan has built up for you. Then within seconds, Chan has you cumming hard around his cock, shuddering, and straining his name out of your mouth as it rings throughout his car. 

“Fuck, baby…” he groans as his head tips back before he starts spilling white inside of you. 

His hips stutter finally, gently slowing down to a leisurely pace while he drowns in the afterglow from one of the most transcendent orgasms he’s ever had. He gives you both time to come down before he carefully slides out of you. It takes you a while to fully fathom what just happened, but you allow yourself to think about it. Whatever it is, it’s not regret. There’s a longing feeling there, a borderline sense of relief. 

Once Chan is decent, he helps you slide your underwear back on even though you’re both fully aware of the fact that he just came inside you. It’s not like either of you were prepared for this to happen. In saying that, Chan gently takes hold of both your hands and gets you to sit up.

“You okay?” he questions, using his finger to hook some of your messed hair out of your face. 

You nod, “yes. You?” 

“I’ve been worse,” he answers, making you smile. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier.” 

You shake your head, “I’m sorry as well for being so stubborn. I figured that the more hostile I am towards you, the more I push myself away so that I don’t have to deal with any feelings from before.” 

Chan completely gets it, “I know. I thought I could do the same, but it seems that I’m too nice.”

You roll your eyes, “you’ve had your moments.” 

“I definitely have,” he replies. “Anyway, we should go in case anybody just saw that.” 

A bashful sense of embarrassment washes over you. It’s been minutes before you realised that you just fucked your ex. But even so, it doesn’t really feel that way. It’s just Chan, someone who you still have a lot of love for. 

“You can stay at mine, it’s late,” you suggest to him. 

Chan smiles softly, “as if I’m going to say no.”

-

A/N: Yes, I am a day late already to Kinktober - I just realised bc my dumb ass was trying to figure out time zones and when would be the best time to upload for people bc I’m quite some hours ahead from other countries. So I’ll just stick to my time zone, that way you’ll get my works a few hours earlier x

KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzetmv @luneskies 🩷🩷

[eekshade]

hey!! sry for not writing anything for 5 months, school has been yucky, but im back!! i started with an alphabet bc it was an easy way to ease myself back into writing. also happy gay month 🫶

Bucky Barnes Fluff Alphabet

bucky barnes x m!reader

word count: 4.4k

warnings/info: letter J depicts a make out sesh ig, internalized homophobia is mentioned, Buck cries, use of you/your for reader but is said to be male, there are scenes after the hcs for a little bit but I gave up on that lol, made in my notes app so sry for any formatting issues, not proof read

A - Admiration. (what do they admire about their S/O?)

☆ Bucky loves your hands. He likes how "innocent" they are compared to his. He adores when you hold his hand, especially the vibranium one. It makes him feel all warm and soft inside. It causes his stomach to ache (in a loving way), and it makes him want to love himself.

The two of you are slowly making your way through the crowded farmer's market, somewhat resembling a can of sardines. You were walking in front of him, taking notice of a small clearing off to the side, grasping his metallic hand, pulling him behind you. He follows without question, a small smile pointed at your two interlocked hands.

Once stopped in the empty area, before you could even think of letting go of him, he pulled you into him, placing his cracked lips onto your own.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Of course I do."

He kisses you again.

B - Boldness. (how bold are they in regards to their S/O? who confessed first?)

☆ Bucky was a confident man in his youth, always the one making the first move. Ever since he started living in Brooklyn again, he started to notice the anxiety crawling up his throat whenever he interacted with others. This is why he wouldn't start talking to you, even if he's interested in you, so you would need to initiate the first few (dozen) conversations before he starts to feel comfortable around you. That being said, given that you've been talking as friends/acquaintances, he'll have no problem asking you out, it might just take me some time.

☆ Once in a relationship he is extremely bold, there are still some topics where he would be more hesitant to talk about (such as the full extent of his past), but when it comes to you he won't having any problem charmin' you like there’s no tomorrow.

Bucky lingers in front of your shared apartment building hoping to catch you on your way home after a day out, he nervously switches from leaning on a tree to sitting on a bench, then back to the tree. He only waits for about five or so minutes before he notices you walking on the pavement leading to the building, but after locking eyes with him, your course changes.

"Hey, Bucky!"

"y/n! I'm glad I caught you, can I walk you up?"

You simply smile and nod in the direction of the door. You smell like newly washed clothes, but to Bucky, it might as well be heaven. You break the silence by asking him about his day, he breifly responds, giving you some of the highlights, you two chit-chat for bit, not able to dive into much as the trip is rather short. By the time you two reach your door, he realizes that he longer can try to find the perfect segue so he might as well just go for it.

"...Well, thanks for walking with me." You smile at him, reaching for the door handle.

"Wait, y/n, I wanted to talk to you about something." You raise your eyebrows as a sort of permission for him to continue.

"I hope I wasn't misreading this, but would you like to get dinner together sometime?" His voice remains unwavering, with a sly smile dancing across his face.

You roll your eyes at his tone, but it's hard to hide the smile forming at the corners of your mouth,"I guess I don't see why not."

"Yeah, yeah," he snickers, "here." It's his number written on the back of receipt, a small smiley face had been drawn next to it, then erased.

"See you, Bucky."

"Bye, y/n."

C - Comfort. (how do they comfort their S/O?)

☆ Bucky is more of an advice guy than a comfort guy, this is due to him getting extremely awkward/uncomfortable during touchy, feely situations (and not because he doesn't know how to confront his own emotions!!). However, he does understand the need for warmth during hard times, he just opts to show it through acts of service instead.

Your thoughts thrash against the walls inside your head, the throbbing only getting worse as you slowly pull yourself out of his bed. Your face caked in sweat and dried tears, your bloodshot eyes drift to the phone resting upon the on of the nightstands, your unsteady hand grips the device, checking the time.

The late afternoon sun coats the walls in an irritable light, despite the curtains being mostly closed. You notice on the second nightstand that he left a glass of ice water (which was mostly melted now) and a note, which read:

"EVERYTHING NEEDED FOR A BATH IS ON THE BATHROOM COUNTER - ILL BE BACK WITH YOUR FAVORITE ASAP :)"

D - Dates. (do they prefer going out or staying in? do they prefer fancy or simple?)

☆ Bucky has a really hard time with this one. All he is used to are the classic dinner and a movie type dates, but in his heart, he likes the more intimate, at home, kind. Over time, he finds a sort of balance between the two, like a picnic at a drive-in movie.

"Bucky, where the hell are we?"

The two of you are currently driving down backroads you've never seen before. The road is slightly too narrow for anyone to get fully comfortable, the night sky darkening the path. Bucky has been relatively quiet, letting you do all the talking, and control the music; he never has liked modern music, but there's something special about when you play it.

"Well, if I tell you it's not really a surprise, is it?" He answered, turning his head to you slightly. The smile on his face is almost aggravating, if it had been anyone else's, you would've jumped out of the moving vehicle.

"You're not funny," you playfully roll your eyes, "if I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're trying to kill me." You pretend to study him as if trying to find a motive.

"Well, I can promise you I'm not doing that." The smile changes to softer, genuine.

The car is almost silent for the rest of the way, the soft music leading you two down the road. The car pulls into an unpaved parking lot, bringing you back to reality. You look around and see a white screen proudly standing twenty or so feet ahead of you, realizing what's going on, you turn to Bucky. A nervous grin shines back at you, he's holding a basket filled with dinner, and movie snacks.

"You like it?"

E - Equal. (are they more dominant or passive?)

☆ Due to Bucky growing up in the 40s, he does still have quite a bit of internalized homophobia. Therefore, he tends to try and be the stereotypical, manly, provider. He does unconsciously feminize you to make himself feel better, but the second he realizes, or you tell him, he'll do everything to stop, as well as profusely apologize.

☆ Other than that, I do see him as being in the middle. He can obviously take control when he needs to, but also because of his past, he loves when you take the pressure off, and take care of him.

(I can't think of a scene for this rn, and I rlly need to finish this so sry, if anyone want more about this just ask)

F - Family. (do they want to start a family?)

☆ Bucky loves kids, and is great with them, but he doesn't want to have his own, at least until he's stable. So for now he's okay with being the cool uncle.

After spending a lake day with the Wilsons, it was noticeable that Bucky wanted to say something. He looked uncomfortable, nervous even as he waited for everyone to finally call it a night. A little after the kids were put to bed, Sarah called it in, then Sam. You went to follow, seeing as it may be weird to stay up longer than the hosts, but Bucky ushered you to follow him to the back deck.

You sat on the stairs next to him in silence, waiting for him to speak, the warm air surrounding you two. He bit his lip and looked at you, studying you.

"I love you," He smiles at you, his tone signifying a second part of what he needs to say.

"But?" You laugh, nervousness now making its way into you.

"But I can't give you this." He has tears in his eyes, threatening to fall if he says anything else.

"What does that mean?" Confusion grips you tightly, his face giving nothing away.

"An apple pie life," he laughs at his own words, "I can't give you the house, and two kids, dinner by 6, it's all too much for that." He looks to the lake as if it could help him.

"Bucky," you gently take his chin, making him look at you, "what makes you think I want that?"

"The way you looked at me," he wipes a fallen tear from his cheek, "when I was playing with Cass and AJ today.

"Oh, Bucky." You kiss a tear away from the side of his nose, "I don't need any of that, hon. I just need you."

G - Goofy. (how serious are they when it comes to a relationship?)

☆ When it comes to a romantic relationship, Bucky can be pretty serious, while he is smooth/sly, 'goofy' isn't really the word I'd use to describe him. Not to say he wouldn't be funny, but I feel as though his humor is more sarcastic than anything.

(same thing as before)

H - Hugs. (how do they hug?)

☆ I imagine Bucky's skin to be cold, so that transfers to his hugs, but he's cold like a soft breeze on a hot beach. His hugs would also be very firm because of obvious reasons. If he's in an emotional mood, they may be slightly too hard, but never enough to hurt you.

You shiver slightly as his arms wrap around your frame, his head resting upon your shoulder. You two stay like that for a moment before he shifts his head into the crook of your neck, leaving a chaste kiss on it before planting his nose to touch your skin; eyelashes softly tickling you as he blinks.

"I miss you."

I - Interests. (what Interests do they want to share with their S/O?)

☆ Bucky's a fucking nerd, his main interests being motorcycles, fantasy novels (reading in general), folklore, and ancient history.

Bucky smiled widely as he firmly gripped some obscure fantasy novel with a dragon on the cover, unintentionally waving it around. He's excitedly explaining the novel to you, about how well written the book is, about how interesting the character dynamics are, and so on. You mirror his smile as you watch him talk, hanging on to every word that falls off his tongue.

You stand, your smile never wavering as you walk toward him, he stops talking, confused. Once you reach him, you pull him into your grasp, kissing his cheek, holding him close.

"What?" His voice lacking confidence, his smile now unsure.

"Keep talking." You mumble into him, "I like it when you talk." He grins and continues his rant.

J - Jealousy. (do they get jealous?)

☆ He can get jealous, this is do to his trust issues, but he's mature enough that he won't be a bitch about it unless you want him to, he'll just talk to you, and the two of you will work through it one way or another. He does get rather clingy when jealous, though, wanting to touch you in some way.

You and Bucky are currently at your workplace, your boss decided in order to boost morale that a company party was needed, and you (thankfully) convinced Bucky to go, promising it'll be quick.

Both of you were chatting with one of your work friends when they asked you to come help them get refreshments, leaving Bucky alone with their spouse. Bucky wanted to be nice, he did, but the spouse would not stop going on and on about some shit Bucky had never even heard of. So, naturally, his eyes wander trying to locate you, hoping that you'll come back and save him from this dreadful conversation, and that's when he saw it. Your co-worker was basically feeling you up, their eyes traced your figure as you bent over to grab a couple of waters from the case on the floor, and when you stood back up they grabbed your waist to "move you out of the way" of someone walking by.

The final straw was when you attempted to walk back to Bucky and their spouse, they grabbed you by the elbow stopping you from moving, the grip wasn't very hard from what Bucky could see, but the look on your face was enough to get him moving.

Bucky walked away from the spouse mid sentence. They called out at him, but he paid it no mind. He reached the two of you, and you smiled at him, saying something along the lines of "What couldn’t stand to be without me?" Bucky rolled his eyes when the co-worker asked what he was doing.

"Sorry to cut this short, but honey, we got to go." Overpronouncing the pet name, as he pulls you toward him.

"What? You just got here!" The co-worker joked, "Come on, y/n! The night is still young." He whined out.

"I'm sorry, but Buck's right. I promised to make dinner tonight in order for him to come." You laughed, pulling Bucky's hand into your grasp, "See you on Monday though." You smiled at them, causing Bucky to tighten the grip of his hand around yours.

The second the two of you walked out of the building Bucky pushed you against the wall of it, just barely out of view from the window, kissing you harshly. You opened your mouth in shock, giving Bucky the opportunity to slide his tongue in. His hands roam your body in search for nothing in particular, he smirks when you moan into the kiss, motivating him to pull as much of those pretty little sounds out of you as he can. He thinks of your co-worker, the slimy bastard, they could never have you like this, this thought makes his smile grow as he attaches to your neck, and slips his knee in between your legs. Once he's satisfied with your disheveled state, he silently walks away to the car, leaving you to follow him, confused, calling out for him to slow down.

K - Kiss. (how they kiss/favorite place to be kissed, and vise versa.)

☆ Bucky’s kisses are tender/soft, this is attributed to him subconsciously not wanting to hurt you in any way, so any time he touches you it's rather gentle. His lips tend to taste a little like blood, because he has a habit of biting them.

☆ His favorite place to kiss you is on your cheek, specifically with his hands on your hips as a form of greeting.

☆ His favorite place to be kissed is his neck, it feels special, a place just for you and no one else, it's a form of intimacy he hasn't been able to truly experience until now. He especially likes it when you hug him from behind kissing up from the top of his spine to his nape hairline.

Bucky uncomfortably cleaned the kitchen as he waited for you to return from work; he had recently moved in to your place, and it was just now starting to hit him how serious you guys were. You and him have been dating for quite a while, he stayed over more times than not, so it was only natural for you to ask him to move in. He said yes of course, how could he not? He thought about the two of you, about him no longer sleeping in your bed, but sleeping in his. Next to you. It's driving him insane, oh god - when did he start crying? Seriously though, how could you chose him? He just doesn't understand how this happened, how could you, of all people, want him? More tears. God, Bucky, pull yourself together man.

His thoughts screech to a halt as he hears the door open, he hears you call out his name, he doesn't respond, wiping the tears, this proved to be a lot harder to do as one's tears are still actively falling. You find him within a few seconds, he's facing the sink, you snicker at his concentration; you walk up to him, making sure not to be silent, though there’s not a doubt in your mind he knows you're there. You wrap your arms around his lower torso, placing your chin on his shoulder. His hands stop moving as he leans into the touch.

"Hey, Buck." You softly whisper, "You get out today?"

"Of course I have." He turns his head down slightly, trying to avoid eye contact, "You worry too much." He grumbles, he attempts to move his arms forward, but stops when he feels your lips graze his nape.

"I like worrying about you." Another kiss. "It keeps me grounded." You laugh into his neck.

"Please." He drags out the word in an almost whiney tone, moving his head back to get even closer to your mouth, "Please don't stop."

You consister teasing him, turning his chin to look at you, but stop when you see his wet cheeks you decide against it. You leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth as a sort of apology, before going back to what you were doing to the back of his neck.

"God, Buck, you know how much I love you?" You mumble into his skin after a few moments.

"No, I don't think I do," He smiles at the wall, "how much?"

You unravel your arms from around him, placing them on his shoulders, turning him to face you. You deeply press your lips onto his nose, causing him to scrunch his face, the kiss makes a humming sound, before a soft pop of your lips.

"That much, times like a thousand." You giggle at his soft expression.

"Wow. That's a lot." He remarks with faux amazement, trying to make it seem like you didn't just make his heart nearly beat out of his chest.

"Yeah it is." You exaggerate the words, gripping his cheeks for one last kiss.

L - Love Language.

☆ Bucky's love language is definitely acts of service. He enjoys doing things for you, and putting his skills to use, I think this can been seen in fatws when he helps Sam with repairing the boat, and getting him a new suit. He likes surprising you with household takes already completed when you get home, he absolutely basks in the praise you give him for doing this.

(yuck. This is where I officially give up on the scenes, as said prior if you want to see any specific ones just ask!!)

M - Meals. (kitchen dynamics.)

☆ Bucky doesn't like to cook with other people, you can watch for sure! But he doesn't like to share the space too closely, it just annoys him when people do things he believes he can do more efficiently.

☆ The two of you will most likely do A/B days when it comes to cooking and clean up, unless one person is pampering the other/it's a special occasion.

N - Nicknames. (what do they call their S/O?)

☆ His nicknames for you are obviously older, and slightly feminine (unless you tell him off), he starts you relationship with names like, doll, darling, and dove. As time progresses he will start incorporating handsome into his list of pet names. All that being said, I don't think he's too into pet names, for the most part he'll just say your real name.

O - Openness. (how open are they about their past/emotions with their S/O?)

☆ He starts telling you about his past in the form of jokes (like that one date scene in fatws). He's able to tell you about everything in a factual tone a few months into dating (just so he knows he trusts you), as far as his emotions surrounding it - that does obviously take longer, but in my opinion not by that much. The amount of emotion shared does vary, but maybe a month or two after he tells you about it for the first time, he'll start venting about his nightmares and such.

☆ also it does depend on how you view/retain media, because you might have already recognized his face/name.

P - PDA.

☆ Bucky is in the middle when it comes to PDA, he likes holding your hand, will give you goodbye kisses and such, but he doesn't go father then that. Half due to his social anxiety, half to him wanting the more intimate things to stay private.

Q - Quarrel. (how they apologize/ how long it takes them to forgive their S/O?)

☆ If Bucky feels he's in the right he can and will be petty, such as brushing you off, or making sarcastic comments. He typically won't confront you because of the attitude he holds, but when you decide to apologize he's ready to talk it out. He accepts your apology in time, (depending on what you did) but he is still standoffish for some time after, due to his trust issues.

☆ When he fucks up he is all over fixing it. He starts the apology in a very formal manner, stating how he knows he what he did was wrong, how he'll do better. The second part of the apology is him being (too) nice for the next week, as said on L his love language is acts of service so he'll overcompensate, and do every task you needed done.

R - Rules. (boundaries they have.)

☆ His "main" boundaries are focused around his past, such as you're not allowed to pry when it comes to asking about it - he will talk about it in his own time. You're also not allowed (at least for a long time) to touch the scars he has next to where his arm is attached, or the attachment itself. As far as other boundaries go, he doesn't want you to go further than hand holding, and a quick goodbye kiss in public, and he hates it when you pity him out right - keep that in your head.

S - Security. (how protective are they of their S/O?)

☆ He is very protective of you, not in a weird controlling way, but he always checks in out of fear someone will use you to get to him for one reason or another. This protectiveness isn't really that obvious, more just him checking in on you, and keeping an eye out when you're out together.

T - Time. (how long does it takes to fall for their S/O?)

☆ Bucky does take quite a bit of time to actually fall in love, but him finding you attractive/intriguing is very fast if not immediate. It takes about 2-3 months for him to ask you out (though he does flirt for a while first), and about 5-7 months of dating to "love" you.

U - Upset (what things upset them in a relationship?)

☆ He can get upset from a few things namely; everything said in R, when you grab him first in his post nightmare state or during/after a panic attack (he wants to be the one to initiate contact, because sometimes he doesn't want to be touched), and if you disagree on politics - although Bucky isn't the kind of guy to compromise on those so it most likely won't happen, because he wouldn't be dating you in the first place.

V - Vacation. (what kind of traveler are they with their S/O?)

☆ Bucky's a NERD!! He likes to go to places with rich history/culture, and he won't take a second to rest, he just wants to see everything, can you blame him? If you're the kind of person who wants to spend a day relaxing by the pool, I'm sorry, but he will leave you behind without hesitation.

W - Words. (promises they make to their S/O.)

☆ Bucky promises to never hurt you in any way shape or form, he promises to protect you agianst others who wish to harm you, and he promises to never leave you behind as he doesn't want anyone, especially you, to feel how he felt.

X - Xenial. (how they make you feel welcome/what makes them feel welcome?)

☆ Bucky likes to do little things for you to make you feel welcome/comfortable around him. This comes in different shapes and forms, such as complimenting you in every which way, making mental notes of things you like, and always being ready to help you out with anything you may need.

☆ Bucky feels the most welcome when it's explicitly said that he is. You using your words to validate him, not even compliment him, but just say he's doing fine, it does more for him then you could imagine.

Y - Yearning. (do they miss their S/O easily? what do they do about it?)

☆ Bucky is able to survive being isolated for long periods of time, even going as far to do it intentionally, but you've weakened him. He misses you rather fast. Now, it's not like he's going to cry over it or anything, but he will sometimes sit up at night unable to sleep without you next to him.

☆ Let's say that you two, for whatever reason, can't call. Bucky is an old fashioned guy, he likes to keep a least one physical photo of you on him at all times. He says it's his good luck charm; he would never tell you however, is that when you two are separated he keeps the photo as close as possible at nights because it calms him down from his nightmares.

Z - Zzz. (sleeping habits/how they cuddle.)

☆ As said so many times throughout this list, Bucky gets nightmares, and sometimes he can't fall back asleep afterwards so he gets up to go do his own thing, because of this while the two of you do sleep near eachother, you rarely cuddle. It's not even that he doesn't want to cuddle, he does, it's the fact he feels like a burden any time he wakes you, so instead he lied and told you he doesn't like them.

☆ Other sleep facts about him is that he runs hot at night, somewhere earlier it's said he's cold to touch, but for whatever reason he can not have more than one blanket on him, plus your body heat.

☆ His typical sleepwear is a pare of shorts, and if you want to count them, his dogtags. During the colder months he'll add a long sleeve shirt, or even just a standard tee, depends on his mood.

MARVEL MASTERLIST

[mt-oe]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐—modern mizu x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Thank you so much for appreciating my fics. I honestly didn't expect to receive requests for a part 2 and ya'll are making me melt aaaaaa <3

Link for the first part? Mwa!

I hope you'll enjoy this one too!

Enjoy, love! Mwa mwa :*

warnings: not proofread, smut (mdni!), very mild violence, alcohol, misgendering (bc mizu appears masculine), she/her for mizu and implied afab reader

I don't really know if she knows or not But I left some things in her jewelry box And she's wearing out my rings Taking the compliments meant for me

"Damn...I look like absolute shit."

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself after waking up from a post-cry nap. Your eyelids were very puffy and your lips chapped despite being slightly swollen. The eyes that were once filled with life were like empty pits, holding no emotion.

It had been a few days since you've retrieved your items from Mizu's apartment. Thankfully, your friend had a spare room in hers and allowed you to stay for a few months until you were ready to be on your own again. If it weren't for your friends, you'd probably have a hell of a time trying to recover from your break up.

Well, you were still struggling but at least it's a start.

That wasn't to say that the moving out process was any easier though. Seeing Mizu's frown when she opened the door made you want to pull her down and kiss her until the corners of her lips turned upward. But you couldn't, your relationship wasn't like before anymore.

Her eyes watched you as you carefully removed the trinkets you had placed on her shelf. The little neon characters and toy babies were now in a cardboard box as if the two of you didn't joke around about them being your 'babies'. Your clothes were already in separate box. The goofy t-shirts she had given you as a way to make you laugh were taped shut.

"Are you really going to take everything home?" she sighed out, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. The frown on her face never left and her eyes remained as aloof as ever.

You glanced at her briefly before turning your attention back to her shelf. Fingers running across the wood, past her jewelry box, trying to remember if you had left anything else. "Don't talk to me."

Mizu rolled her eyes at your cold response. It was understandable, but that doesn't mean it didn't annoy or hurt her in any way. She pushed herself off of the wall lightly before walking off to the kitchen. The feeling of you being this cold was not something she could bear at the moment.

As she left, your fingers traced back to her jewelry box and opened it. The earrings, rings, and necklaces you always wore were still there. Your throat tightened at the sight, remembering how you had bantered with Mizu for being so 'unfashionable'.

Before you, she had only worn plain silver bands around her fingers, saying that 'she didn't need anymore than that' and 'they're just rings, no need to be special'. But of course, you knew her long, slender, yet rough hands were too beautiful for the bare minimum.

It took a while to convince her, mainly because she secretly liked seeing you try so hard for her, but you finally got her to try out your rings. The feeling of having more accessories on her hand was odd to her and there were definitely times the accessories got snagged on her hair, clothes, and other things. However, the feeling of having a bit of you with her comforted her. It was adorable honestly. You even ended up leaving the rings she often borrowed from in her jewelry box.

And now, you were staring at the same rings placed snugly in the velvet-y confines of the jewelry box. A sigh escaped your lips as you took your earrings and necklaces back, but for some reason, you really couldn't bring yourself to take your rings back. A small tug in your heart felt that maybe she'd wear them and remember you.

"It is what it is," you mumbled, trudging back to your room. Your room looked like a shit storm. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor, the trinkets you once displayed on Mizu's shelf were now scattered on random surfaces, and the books you bought but never read were...well they were still rotting on a random corner.

As you were about to lay down, your friend knocked on your door before opening it. The sight of you merely rotting in bed made her eyebrows furrow but it quickly disappeared as she walked in. "Want to drink somewhere?" She leaned sideways against the wall, cross her leg over the other.

You were about to refuse but the image of your exhausted self and the aching loneliness bothered your mind. Nodding at her, you stood up again. As if silently communicating with you, she gave you a relieved smile before leaving the room to give you some space to get ready.

Once the two of you had arrived to the club, you immediately sat down, waiting for your drinks to arrive. The music was blaring through the speakers and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and the mix of people's perfume lingered around. You were usually up for some partying but the ache of your heartbreak drained you this time around.

As your drinks arrived, you poured yourself a shot, not even bothering to wait for your friend. She was probably already dancing with someone somewhere. Your eyes scanned the crowd, people-watching as you downed the shot, the burn of the alcohol making you cough a bit.

Some how, it was peaceful for you despite the dancing, hollering, and even the strangers making out with who ever. Even your friend's return to the table, clearly having stolen a bottle of beer from another table, didn't bother you. Maybe you were finally attaining peace for the first time in a while. Maybe all you really needed was some alcohol to forget about Mi—

"Hey, isn't that Akemi?" Your friend asked, pointing at the sofa near the center.

What the fuck?

And although I think I'll miss them At least there's proof of my existence A captive little soldier on her fingers Deep behind enemy lines

You almost spit your second shot out, the alcohol almost traveling to your nose, making you retch over as you coughed in attempt to get the liquid back to your mouth again. Your watery eyes scanned over the crowd once again until you finally saw her. It really was Akemi. If she was here, Mizu was bound to be here too, right?

Panic with a bit of anticipation settled in you as your eyes tried to find your ex.

No. She wasn't here.

A sigh of disappointment escaped your lips upon sitting down.

Wait. Disappointment?

The hell?

"I-I'm going to dance for a moment," you told your friend. There was no way you're disappointed in Mizu's absence. You were going to find another way to move on.

As you made your way through the crowd, dancing and mingling with others while you sipped on your beer, a woman approached you and began flirting. The interaction made you feel awkward at first. A mix of panic, intoxication from the alcohol, and slight flattery was boiling inside you.

The woman flirting with you invited you to their table, to which you agreed. She introduced her friends to you, sharing drinks and stories. Some time later as you were interacting with them, she had slung an arm around you and pulled you close. It wasn't a touch that you were particularly comfortable with, but another shot with a Heineken as a chaser fixed that.

While you continued to interact with them, you noticed the lady's eyes staring at someone through the crowd. "His rings look expensive," she told you, pointing towards someone. Your eyes looked at where she was pointing at and widened.

Fuck it was Mizu.

And she was with someone else too. The woman she was with continued to play with the rings on her hand as they sat down, giggling and talking to her. They looked so happy and your ex looks like she had moved on. You continued to stare, not believing the sight, until your eyes met. You quickly sat back down, trying to calm yourself down.

Your vision was blurring either from the tears or from the alcohol or maybe both. The music ringing in your head as it continued to boom throughout the venue.

The lady you were with looked at you with concern before leaning closer to your ear. "Let's take this somewhere else," she whispered, giving you a smile. You nodded and stood up with her, making your way outside onto an alley beside the establishment.

I still have your lighter I still have your book I still have everything you brought, but you never took

The lady watched as you took out a cigarette, placing it between your lips before you began rummaging through your bag for a lighter. "You don't seem like the type to smoke," she joked in an attempt to ease your mood.

She was right. You weren't the type to smoke. In fact, you only started after your break up. The same night, you bought a carton of Marlboro Blue because you saw Mizu smoking it when she was still just your hallway crush. The image of her leaning against her motor bike, smoking while smiling lightly at the sight of her friends bantering was one that never left your mind.

"I learned from someone." You lit the cigarette with the lighter you had found in your purse before inspecting it. Your eyes widened as you realized that it was Mizu's lighter, making you choke on the smoke.

"It's him, right? The tall dude with the nice rings? The one with the blue eyes." The lady patted your back as you continued to cough, frowning when you nodded. She watched you smoke for a moment before moving closer towards you.

Your eyes looked...Bothered. Like you wanted to go back in there and thrash the table, to ask Mizu who the fuck she was with.

The turmoil in you continued to brew, rising and rising until it was almost overflowing. The image of Mizu with another woman burned into your memory. You wanted to storm in, to make a mess, to ask her how was she able to move on so fast while you...

You were still collecting the pieces of yourself that had fallen apart.

In midst of your thoughts, the woman you were with had grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you against the wall. "Let me teach you something better." She placed a chaste kiss on your lips before lifting your shirt, placing a trail of kisses from under your bra until she was kneeling down, face-to-face with the button of your jeans, looking up at you.

You sighed, a cloud of smoke escaping your lips before you took another puff from your cigarette. This felt wrong. The idea of hooking up with someone while you were still in love with your ex felt wrong.

"I...I can't do this.." You lightly grabbed her by the chin, moving your hips away from her. A look of confusion flashed on her face before she moved slightly closer. "Oh c'mon, just on–"

"She said back off," a voice cut her off.

You know where to find me And I know where to look

Before you could even utter a word, a ringed hand had pulled the woman away from you, prompting her to stand up. Deep blue eyes narrowed at her before roughly letting go of the woman's shirt.

"Now get lost."

The woman glared at Mizu, seemingly sizing her up for a fight. But Mizu was tall, well-built, and quite intimidating. Everything you wanted in a person, but clearly not someone you'd want to fight.

A 'tsk' left the woman's lips before she raised a middle finger, storming off. Mizu then turned to you, raising an eyebrow at the cigarette between your fingers. "I thought you didn't smoke?" she scoffed, eyes narrowing at you. " ...And blues? Really?"

You merely stared at her, unable to form a word. Maybe it was the alcohol or the nicotine making your brain lag but there was only one thing running through your mind: She was here. She was with you. She pushed a woman away from you. She was questioning why you were smoking. She..She..She...

Shit.

She was here. In front of you.

Mizu's eyes narrowed further at your lack of response. "What?" She moved closer to you, towering over you. The distance between the two of you was so small, it was like she was suffocating you against the wall.

"Why are you here?" you asked trying to keep yourself calm, breathing the smoke out through your nose. She glanced away for a moment, looking a bit guilty before turning back to you. "I...Akemi told me she saw you here."

Your eyes widened in surprise. You expected her to be with Akemi, but you didn't expect her to come just because Akemi told her you were here. "And that matters why?" you asked, eyes now narrowing.

She sighed and moved away a bit, more of the guilt appearing on her face. "I wanted to see you."

The beating of your heart increased as you looked at her. She wanted to see you? Why? You dropped the cigarette you were smoking before stepping on it, grinding the heel of your foot on it more than you needed before looking up at her. "You're joking," you said in a serious tone, looking intensely at her.

"I'm not I–" She was quickly cut off with you giving her a shove. "I saw you with that woman. I'm not stupid, Mizu."

She looked at you for a moment, clearly puzzled which made the rage in you boil much more. "The woman you were with. The one play with your rings. My rings." You clenched fist as you shoved her once more, glaring at her.

Your eyes started tearing up and you began smacking her arm, a mix of your emotions and alcohol making you lose all inhibitions. "You have no idea how much pain I've been in because of you! All I wanted was for you to be there for me and you fucking left me!" she yelled, your careless smacking progressively getting more forceful.

"Then, when I'm finally trying to find some fucking peace for myself, you waltz in with some woman and act all chummy chummy buddy buddy in front of me?! And now you expect me to fucking talk to you and welcome you back?! I'm not a fucking idiot, you motherfucking bi–" She cut you off by placing you in a loose headlock and shoving a hand over your mouth, glaring at you.

"You mean Kaji's daughter," she stated calmly, letting you go once you stopped thrashing around, clearly confused. "Oh for fuck's sake–Akemi's friend. She asked me to pick her up as payment for telling me where you are." she groaned, rubbing an annoyed hand across her face.

Oh.

You still glared at her before looking away, shoulders slumping. "Well why didn't you say so earlier?" you asked, frowning at her. She looked at you with mild annoyance, wanting to argue that you were too busy smacking the shit out of her arm, before suddenly chuckling. The annoyance melting into fondness and amusement, Damn, she missed you like this.

Her arms gently wrapped around you, pulling you closer as she buried her nose against your hair. "I miss you," she mumbled, closing her eyes. You couldn't help but freeze before finally softening up and sobbing, leaning closer to her. "Why'd you leave me?" you sobbed softly against her shoulder.

Her throat tightened at the sound of your crying and sniffling. Making you cry was the last thing ever wanted to do. "I was wrong. I thought we both needed a break from each other but I...I ended up missing you," she sighed out, holding you tighter. "I guess I took you for granted and I'm regretting it so much. I'll do anything to get you back." A hand wiped your tears away before lifting your chin up. "I'm sorry.."

You looked at her, gulping the lump in your throat. The apology was so silly to you. Mizu apologizing to you in such a horribly put together yet sincere way was not something you expected to see and it amused you. "Just kiss me, you fool." you giggled before pulling her head down and planting your lips together.

She kissed you back almost immediately, placing a hand behind your head and the other on the small of your back, pulling you closer than ever. It felt so good to be held like this again. To have Mizu in your arms and you in her's. The kiss deepened as your tongues explored each other's mouth before pulling away, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips.

Without another word, you knelt down in front of her, hands clumsily unzipping her pants. "W-Wait." She pushed your head back gently, covering the lower half of her face with her hand to cover her blush. "What's wrong?" you asked, looking up at her.

"I don't think I deserve to be treated like this right now especially after what–" You cut her off by continuing to undo her pants and pulling it down along with her panties slightly. Your nose buried itself against her bush, making both of you groan, her's slightly louder.

Using your thumb, you spread her folds open before sticking out your tongue and giving her cunt a long slow lick, relishing the moan that came from her. Despite being such a quiet person, Mizu really was loud when it came to intimacy.

The hand she previously used to push your head away was now gripping your hair, encouraging you but not pushing you. You began licking her clit slowly, drawing circles with the tip of your tongue and flicking it occasionally. Your other hand gathered the wetness that slowly dripping out of her, using it to coat your fingers before slowly pushing it in her hole.

Her grip on your hair tightened as her face scrunched up in pleasure, moaning loudly as she leaned back against the wall. You curled your fingers inside her, massaging that area you knew made her see stars. "Fuck, dove...y-you're so fucking good at this," she moaned out, bucking her hips closer to you.

You smiled against her cunt before giving her another long and slow lick, sucking the bundle of nerves towards the end. Your eyes looked up at her as your tongue began licking her clit faster. She was panting and moaning loudly, blue eyes half-lidded, and a dust of pink covering her cheeks.

"'m so close...holy shit," she moaned almost desperately, hand now pushing you closer. With her head tossed back slightly, she climaxed onto your fingers, letting our a loud choked back moan against the back of her hand.

She panted for a bit before looking at you as you pulled your fingers out slowly. You stared back at her, gazing into her blue eyes as you licked the cum off of your fingers slowly, sucking on it before releasing it with a wet pop. "Good girl..." she panted out before pushing herself off of the wall and pulling her pants up.

As soon as you stood up, she looked at you with a soft gaze before pulling you closer to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I guess...we're back together now?" you asked, intertwining your hand with hers, walking out of the alley together. "'m kinda glad you took me away from that woman earlier though," you laughed.

"Kinda feels like thievin' or stealing," you added. An amused grunt left Mizu's throat before she placed a short sweet kiss on your lips.

"Just felt like taking what's not mine," she mumbled against your lips.

That's thievin', stealin', takin' what's not yours

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 1

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: social drinking, mechanical bull-related injuries lol

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.7k so far

✧ STATUS: ongoing

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i'm aqua and this is my first ever fic so please be nice!! i will be crossposting this work and all future works on my ao3 of the same name. i'm figuring out how this works as i go, so please be patient with me. tags are subject to change with every update. i won't have a posting schedule for this one, but i have the first few chapters pre-written, so expect an update sometime next week!

Chapter 1: Lay Your Cards Down, Down, Down, Down

Although this is the furthest thing from your scene, you can’t help but think to yourself that you should invest in some cowboy boots. You could make them work, you’re sure of it.

Even if you know you would never pull the trigger on purchasing any, too far out of the comfort zone of your normal style, the thought is the only thing keeping you sane—that, and the sound of Cowboy Carter blasting through the speakers of the bar, a welcome reprieve from the drawling, boring country anthems you’d been suffering through for the past hour or so. 

You pride yourself on seeing the merit in all genres of music, you do. You were always the type of person who puffed up her chest when you told people ‘I listen to everything,’ uncaring of how pretentious it may sound. You mean it. It’s an asset in your line of work, and as far as you’re concerned, a little bit of pretentiousness is a small price to pay for the, quite frankly, baller route your fledgling career is heading in. 

But a Western bar? Not the kind of place you’d spend a precious Friday night willingly. Another hazard of the job.

After months of skillfully avoiding the weekly Friday nights out with the other rookie reporters at the magazine, you’d run out of excuses not to join them. If four years studying communications taught you anything, it was that connections are everything in the journalism business. Even more so where the music industry is concerned.

So here you are, at your fourth stop of your night of bar hopping with your extroverted and extremely drunk coworkers, nursing warm beer and observing from the least populated corner you managed to scout upon entry. All things considered, you had been a good sport at the three previous stops. You just draw the line at square dancing with the people you work with. College may have beaten your fear of impromptu phone calls and talking to strangers out of you, but your social battery can only take so much. 

Your phone battery, too, you think bitterly as you stare down at the low battery warning on your screen. Okay, so you’ll finish your shitty beer (because you’re not quite successful enough yet to afford wasting alcohol that you’re paying for) and then use your phone’s remaining juice to catch an Uber home. No biggie.

You’re in the middle of turning off your phone with full intent to work out the kinks of your exit strategy when you realize, with irritation, that your chosen corner is about to be invaded.

Your eyes land on a pair of black Dunks ( in a Western bar? your mind supplies, as if you have any room to judge in your Docs) and travel up, past torn black jeans and a black shirt, and just when you’re sensing a theme with this guy, your eyes reach a head of (regrettably, very nice) black hair and a pair of the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. Anish Kapoor would wail at the sight of these eyes, you think.

As if sensing your apprehension, your corner-thief raises his free hand (the other clutching a plastic cup of his own) palm out, as if to say ‘I come in peace’ and stops in his tracks.

“I can find another spot,” corner-thief says, the low rumbling of his voice barely audible above Texas Hold ‘Em. “I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get bored or injured so I can leave.”

“Injured,” you repeat, despite your better judgment to take him up on his offer and let him be on his way. But your phone is dead and you’re a little bit drunk, bored, and even for an unwanted partner in social evasion, this guy is nicer to look at than the frat guys playing beer pong you’ve been observing for the better part of an hour.

Corner-thief grins a stupidly charming gummy smile, leaning just the slightest bit closer to be heard better but still keeping a respectful distance. As if he’s still wary that you’ll lunge at him if he encroaches on your space any further. Good man.

“There’s a mechanical bull upstairs,” he says, using his index finger on the hand holding his cup to point at the ceiling above you both.

Of course there is. With your luck, you’ll also have to peel someone off of the floor later after going head-to-head with the bull.

“Not your thing?” you guess, glancing pointedly at his Jordans, and he shakes his head, huffing through his nose in what you can only guess is a laugh.

“No, I wouldn’t say so.” 

He pauses, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before speaking again. “So, will you share your wall? I can look around again but this place is more packed than I would’ve pegged it for.”

You nod and he smiles again thankfully, taking the spot on the wall next to you. That should be it. Two strangers who don’t want to be here standing in companiable silence next to each other while they wait for their friends–or coworkers, in your case–to put them out of their misery and let them go home.

But… You consider your options, your phone taking its dying breath in your pocket, and you sigh, turning to him.

“Y/N,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake. 

He takes it with his free hand, giving you an amused look. “Yoongi.”

“What’s that look for?”

He laughs again, a little bit more this time, and your heart does a stupid, funny thing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted by a pretty girl in a bar with a handshake,” he says, causing you to flush and pull your hand away as if it’d been burned, your shoulders tensing as you take a sip of your beer. 

A western bar certainly isn’t your scene, but admittedly, neither are bars or clubs in general. You got all of that out of your system in college where everyone was awkward as fuck or too drunk to care that you were, and ever since you got your degree you have lived and breathed your work. Your social skills were never quite up to par, but you didn’t realize you were this fucking embarrassing.

“I came out with coworkers right after we got off, so I think I’m still kind of in work mode,” you lie, and as if sensing that you feel slightly made fun of, Yoongi shakes his head.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, swear,” he says, tilting his head at you. Dark eyes considering you. “Honestly, I’m thankful you’re putting up with me at all. I don’t think I’d be so kind if the roles were reversed. I know firsthand how hard it is to find a spot to breathe in places like this.”

You feel your shoulder muscles relax just the slightest bit. “I thought about sending you away, but I couldn’t help it. My heart aches when I see an introvert in need of a hiding spot,” you attempt to joke. 

“At least I’m out with friends,” he says sympathetically. “I’ve done the coworker thing before. It’s a drag.”

“It’s weird ,” you correct. “I mean, I sit in meetings with these people. I avoid answering their emails all day. Why is it considered rude to not want to see them piss drunk?”

Yoongi hums in agreement, nodding his head. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I work for Look Here Magazine,” you reply, straightening up a bit in pride when Yoongi’s eyes flash with recognition, his body turning so his shoulder is against the wall now. You turn as well, facing him. “I write for the music section.”

“No shit? I’ve probably read your stuff, then,” Yoongi says, grinning. 

He’s cute. Hot. You can’t help but notice, no matter how hard you’re trying not to. The way that he seems to carry himself in particular, you think, might end up driving you crazy if you’re exposed to it for too long. Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, but you’ve never met a fellow wallflower that still exuded such confidence. He wears it insanely well.

“Look Here covers a lot of big artists,” you hear him continue. “I’m a little surprised you’re hugging the wall, honestly. This place is nothing compared to music industry parties.”

“Ah, I only started a few months ago,” you admit, looking down into your cup. “Not a lot of bylines yet. I haven’t made it into a room with an artist that big yet.”

“But you want to,” Yoongi guesses, and you nod, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks impressed, impressed by you , and that… does something to you. Huh. “Shit, that’s… That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” you say. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, and you’re suddenly very eager to turn the attention away from yourself. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Ah,” Yoongi says, fixing his eyes to his cup just as you had a moment ago. “I’m a music producer, actually.”

You perk up at that. So that’s why he reads Look Here, why he seemed so interested when you told him what you do. 

“Anything I’ve heard?” you ask, leaning in like he’s about to tell you a secret. Networking never stops.

He watches as you lean, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smirk. “Probably.” 

You wait for more, but it doesn’t come. Shithead. So much for that.

“You’ve gotta give me more than that,” you say, and god, you can hear the pout in your own voice. Are you that drunk? Flirting for a lead in a story?

“I don’t,” Yoongi says simply, his smirk in full force now. Mean and annoying and hot. He hasn’t leaned away from you yet. “I want to know more about you, actually. Journalism is hard work. I’m surprised you have time to go out like this.”

“Like I said, I was forced.”

“Still. Spending time with your friends or family or partner or whatever must take priority when it comes to your free time.”

Why is he so interested? You scrunch your nose, trying to figure out what he could be fishing for here. You don’t make it a habit to divulge the details of your sad excuse for a personal life to strangers, but the alcohol has loosened your lips. Maybe you need to talk about it. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, anyway.

“My family is back home. My best friend is this insanely talented playwright. She’s constantly traveling. I see her when she can get some time to fly out.” You take a quick sip of your drink, ignoring the pang in your chest. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, how lonely you are. “Other than her, it’s just me, really. The dating thing… Nobody really seems to get how demanding my job can be, and it always ends in hurt feelings.”

There’s a long pause, and you’re worried you’ve shared too much. You’re enjoying talking to Yoongi. You know it doesn’t matter, that you’ll likely never see him again, but it would really, really suck if his permanent mental image of you ends up being ‘lonely weird drunk girl,’ even if that’s what you are. You force yourself to look up at him. The look in his eyes makes your heart flip stupidly again.

“I get that,” he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible over the music filling the space. You’re reading his lips more than anything, honestly, and you don’t let yourself look at them for too long. He may be pretty—unbearably so, you’re realizing—but he’s a stranger. A mean, annoying, hot, pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Every guy says he gets it. This needs to stay what it is, you think. Momentary companionship between introverts who would rather die than square dance.

You don’t get much time to agonize over it. Whatever is going on between you and Yoongi is intercepted quickly by his phone buzzing in his pocket and his responding grimace when he pulls it out to check it.

“Namjoon fell off of the mechanical bull,” he says, like he’s completely unsurprised by that news. He downs the rest of his drink and pockets his phone again, pushing off of the wall. “I’ve gotta deal with that.”

You nod, pulling what you hope is a sympathetic face. “Good luck.”

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you hold your breath. He looks like he wants to say something, torn between rushing upstairs to save his friend and staying, just for a moment.

You think you know what he wants to say, think foolishly that maybe he wants to ask for your number, and you honestly don’t know if you’d give it to him if he did. You’re so used to saying no.

He runs his fingers through his hair, opens his mouth to speak, and then he looks down like his phone is buzzing again. When he looks back up, it seems like he’s thought better of it.

“Thanks for sharing your wall,” he settles on, smiling congenially. You smile back, and then he’s heading towards the stairs.

Good, you think. You know better. If he really gets it, he does too.

★ ★ ★

You’re dragged out to one more bar before you finally make it home, your interaction with Yoongi having knocked you off-kilter enough to agree to a few more drinks.

It does wonders for your social status at work, you’re sure, but by the time you’re dropped off you’re dizzy-drunk, fighting to stay upright in the elevator of your apartment building.

You’re fumbling and failing at getting your key into the lock of your front door, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, when a voice calling your name a few feet to your right almost makes you jump out of your skin.

You yell, clutching your chest, and when you turn to face the owner of the voice that almost made you lose the contents of your stomach on your doormat, you’re greeted by none other than corner-thief-mean-annoying-hot-pretty Yoongi himself, leaning against the door to the apartment two doors down.

“What the fuck,” you blurt out dumbly, and he laughs. At you! How dare he stand there, lean there, all hot and annoying and in your apartment building for some fucking reason and laugh at you.

“I was going to ask if you needed help,” he says, and oh, fuck. You were safe from just how deep his voice was under the thrum of the music at the bar, but in the quiet of your apartment building this late, you can hear it just fine. Feel it, even. Feel it in places you do not want to humor right now. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you do.”

It’s obvious that Yoongi is faring much better than you are, although his night clearly didn’t end after the mechanical bull incident. Faster than you can react, he’s right in front of you, gently taking your key from your hands and turning it in the lock, like it’s easy.

“Gonna make it in okay?” he asks, looking down at you. You force your brain to make words.

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “Are you stalking me?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I think we’re neighbors.”

“Oh.” Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Just because he’s your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to do something stupid, like see him ever again.

“Give me your number,” he says softly. Oh.

You blink at him, and he grins. Gummy smile. You feel like you’re going to vomit all over his Jordans.

“In case you ever can’t use your keys again,” he clarifies. “I told you, those music industry parties are killer.”

And really, you’re powerless to resist. You give him your number, using all of your remaining brain power to remember the order of the digits. Seemingly satisfied, Yoongi pockets his phone and steps back, heading back to his front door.

“Goodnight, neighbor,” he says, unlocking his door with ease. “Sleep on your side.”

You swallow thickly and nod, slipping inside your own apartment as quickly as you can manage. 

Once you’re in, you sink onto the floor, your back pressed against the door behind you. Your cat, perched on your coffee pot, stares at you in your drunk, flustered state, unimpressed. Offended, even, judging by the way she licks her paw.

You’re so fucked.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

[drdemonprince]

I was talking to some relatives about our comparative sensitivities to substances. As a young person, I had the classic Autistic hyper-sensitivity to drugs. Two beers could knock me out. Anything past that was disgusting to me; at Ohio State I was constantly hiding half-drunk solo cups of Natty Light on bookshelves and in basements because I couldn't keep up with anyone else. I had no taste for weed or anything harder because I hated how tired it made me feel. At the same time, I always remained lucid on substances. I was always the person who could snap into practical, problem-solving thinking and put on a sober face if a member of my party got in trouble for pissing in the street or started fighting or ran afoul of the cops.

growing up, my friends were always trying to get fucked up so they could escape their brains and their realities, and then falling into huge problems because they'd done so. they'd get drunk and piss themselves. drive drunk home. fall in love with some dude on cocaine ten years older than them and then have to bust open a garage window with their fist when he was freaking out threatening himself. they'd blow out their caffeine receptors on weird drug store cold medicine and not be able to drink coffee for years. they'd drag themselves hung over to work or have to run a 5k still stoned. i didnt understand why they'd be so irrational. i was always the person sitting on the floor, a little tired but fine, watching them wrestle eachother drunkenly or cry when they'd started taking whatever drug it was to make themselves feel good. i didn't understand why someone would choose to weaken themselves and make themselves feel even worse. but nothing ever really felt good to me. i was just a flat line.

My sensitivity has changed thanks to testosterone, specifically because of muscle growth. I can throw back a number of drinks that startles me now, and feel almost nothing. A few months back a friend was being very generous with the boozy slushies at Sidetrack and the shots. I don't know how many I had. But more than I'd had to drink in many, many years at least. Which is probably still a small-seeming number to the real professionals, maybe something like 6 or 7 drinks total. But I felt completely fine, nothing past a little silly. I ate a taco on the curb, sipped some water, and then I was fine.

My sister is barely feels substances at all. She can't tell when pain medications work. In college, during a spat with a sorority "little" of hers who began to stalk her, she spent every afternoon at the bar downing shots from a shot-club list in exchange for a t-shirt, and it didn't affect her. She hates food and eats very little because of probably ARFID, but she will drink just about anything, and can do so in abundance if she wants to. But she rarely wants to, because it doesn't make her feel any more fucked up than a couple of cocktails. She smoked weed and took edibles sporadically for years without them ever kicking in or doing anything to her.

I am reminded of that story I read about the guy with really high social anxiety whom the CIA gave like ten tabs of acid, as part of some fucked up experiment, and he remained completely lucid, polite, present, and normal-seeming the entire time. Because he was just such a fucking tight-assed neurotic person that he couldn't let go of his iron-tight grip on reality. After his 12th acid tab, he got a little bit sleepy and went off to bed, or something like that. (If someone remembers this story and can find a link, send it to me!).

I don't know that I'd be the same, I've never tried, acid, but I imagine that it would play out something like that. I'd clench my firsts tight onto reality and keep masking as normal until I reached the absolute fucking brink of my ability to cope, and then I wouldn't enjoy the high, i'd just be so fucked up that I needed to go lie down. Mushrooms didn't affect me much, either.

I can't seem to escape my constant neurotic rumination and compulsive need to attend to the reactions of others and modulate myself. I wish I could let loose, but then again, when a person says they want one thing and they behave in a completely different way, trust the behavior. Clearly I don't want to lose control. I'm obsessed with maintaining my perspective. The one time I got properly zooted high at Nowadays in New York I nearly lost my phone, and I don't want to risk anything like that again. Anxiety is such a protective thing. we evolved to survive not to be happy. and all told i'm pretty good at keeping shit together, looking after myself, looking after others, and not fucking things up. my anxiety and rigidity has spared my ass a whole lot of problems, saved me a lot of money, helped my career, helped me escape arrest. i wish i could relax once in a fucking while but also i dont. im in love with what a tight ass sharp edged tense little bitch i can be. i dont know who the alternative version of me even would be. if i were to let properly loose and get sloppy it would feel like some abdication of duty, because I know that I *can* keep it together no matter what, and it seems so many people can't.

[padfootagain]

Pink Helmet

Hello everyone ! Today, we’re answering a request for my 6k event made by @wolfmoonmusic : “First of all.... CAROLE CONGRATULATIONS!!!! THIS IS HUGE!! I am so happy for you!!!Second of all.... Super cute idea for the celebration. Here's my request.

Sirius Black + Modern AU + Kissing in the Rain.

Like they have an argument on the way back from a party (they aren't together yet) where Sirius flirts with everyone (because I mean it's SIrius) and reader gets up and due to the argument she asks him to stop the car and she gets out and the rest is up to you!

Thank you and congratulations once again!!”

Thank you so much for your request, this is indeed an adorable idea! I hope you like what I wrote for your request! I’ve changed it a bit, I hope you don’t mind, but I got carried away with my own setting involving his bike, and not a car, so…

Hope you all like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warning: angst, and then lots of fluff. Honestly too much cuteness… even for me…

Summary: You get jealous on a night out with your friends, because Sirius is flirting with some random girl at the bar. Your anger is about to cause a chain reaction that will bring unsuspected consequences… for the better!

Word Count: 3312

Sirius Black’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sirius has a headache.

He has a headache in this buzzing pub, a numb hand after holding onto his cold drink for too long and a broken heart because of his stupid crush on you.

Crush. Were it not so painful to think of you, Sirius would laugh at himself for believing in such an understatement.

Because the truth was that he was head-over-heels for you. Smitten with. Absolutely, irrevocably in love with you.

Had been for the past two years, as a matter of fact. Since that last year of school, when you had punched an asshole in the face, hence breaking two of his teeth, who had been insulting one of your friends. That was enough to turn Sirius on, big time, but the crush had turned into actual love a month later, when you spent an entire night listening to his twisted familial story. God, he still remembers every detail of that night to this day. The way you leaned closer to him, how you had wrapped your arms around his frame. All done in silence, without a word, just a presence he desperately needed. He reckons that it was the first time in a long, very long time when he didn’t feel utterly alone…

He drinks now the rest of his beer in one large gulp, because all of this is ridiculous. He’s painfully aware that a) you do not see anything but a friend in him, and b) that he will never be good enough for you.

So, might as well drown his sorrow in alcohol, at least for tonight. Besides, the woman before him is pretty, she’s not boring, she has a nice laugh and she seems kind enough.

Will it help him to forget you if he spends the night with her? No, must definitely not. But it will numb the pain for a while. It will make it easier for a few hours, and after loving you for two years, he’s grown accustomed to asking for no more than a temporary salvation.

Still, while he talks with the pretty girl in front of him, leaning against the bar, his eyes keep on drifting towards your frame. He knows perfectly well where you are, he always does. A superpower of his, or an unbreakable spell of yours, hard to decide if it is meant as a blessing or a curse…

You remained with Remus and Marlene for most of the night, but you’ve found your way to the dancefloor now, or rather the small space right before the stage, it is too narrow to be called a dancefloor. Still, you’re dancing now, and Sirius tries hard not to glance over at you, not to look at the way you’re moving your hips in rhythm with the drums, the way your hands fly upwards as if reaching for the ceiling, the way you throw your head back, the way he longs to kiss every inch of the throat you’re making particularly visible now in your movements…

Instead, he’s staring at this woman before him, and he has your name on the tip of his tongue, and it’s the thought of your presence near him that makes him blush and shift uncomfortably on his stool.

“So… huh… I’m going to be honest with you, Sirius,” the woman is leaning closer now, flirt written all over her graceful features, and Sirius can’t deny that he likes the sweetness of her perfume. “I’m really not looking for something serious, but I like you, and I think we could have some fun together, don’t you think so?”

He plays it cool, looks down for a second, summons his most seductive crooked smile, the one he knows drives everyone crazy. It’s easy to do it. He doesn’t know her… now that he thinks about it, he realizes he’s forgotten her name. He doesn’t care. He’ll spend the night with her, stay for breakfast or at least till she’s awake, so as not to be a douche, and then he’ll walk out of her apartment and out of her life.

It's easy. There are no consequences, no requirements, no strings attached. Your perfect opposite…

You. Sirius can feel a stare burning a hole in his head, and when he slightly turns to see who’s looking at him so intensely, he gets caught in your eyes. Even from across the room, he’s trapped in them, unable to look away, as always, whenever he looks at you. He just gravitates towards you, he can’t help it…

But when your eyes meet, you avert your gaze to the ground, fists clenched and jaw set, and Sirius can’t refrain a small frown. What got you so worked up? The thought of some scumbag being disrespectful towards you makes him blood instantly boil.

His frown deepens when he sees you making a bee-line towards the exit.

Something’s wrong… someone’s hurt you…

Sirius remembers there’s a woman before him only when she asks him what he’s doing. Indeed, he’s stood up from his stool and is grabbing some money in the back pocket of his jeans.

 “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to be this up for it,” she jokes, but her smile falters when Sirius turns to her with an apologetic smile on his lips.

“No, I… I’m sorry, I really like you too. I really do. But… not tonight. I… I just saw a friend heading out, and she seemed upset, so…”

“She…”

The stranger nods, and Sirius doesn’t try to argue. There’s no need for any argument. She’s right, anyway…

Sirius pays for his drinks and hers, he can at least do that. Before she can argue though, he’s striding towards the door.

It’s October, and the nights are cold. And it’s raining tonight, heavily so, a curtain of freezing raindrops blurring his view of the street. While his feet slip upon skeleton leaves, he tightens his hold on his black leather jacket, pushing back his long hair while he tries to spot you in the large street…

There you are, a few feet away, looking for a cab.

He hurries to you, calling your name, but you turn away from him as he does so, and he frowns at the sight.

“Hey! Y/N! You’re alright?”

You nod, but keep your back to him.

“What are you doing? Everybody’s still inside. It’s not even eleven yet. Are you sick?”

“No, I just… I want to go home.”

“Oh… okay. I’ll get you home…”

“No, Sirius…”

“I have an extra helmet. The pink one you like.”

He bits his tongue before letting slip that he always carries your favourite helmet around, just in case, just for you… thank God he doesn’t say that out loud.

You look up at him, frame and face and hair drenched with the heavy rain, and you’re surprised when Sirius takes off his jacket and places it over you, holding it up above your head to protect you.

He’s wet all over too, with dark locks of hair now clinging to his neck and cheeks, his black t-shirt revealing more of his biceps and the ghosts of abs because of the rain. He’s shivering, and he doesn’t even notice it. He only sees that you’re cold, and that you’ll catch your death standing in this unforgiving rain.

He frowns hard when you angrily push him away though, his jacket falling between the two of you, still held in his idle hands but now acting like a barrier between your bodies instead of a protection.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taken aback by the rage burning in your eyes.

Wrath… there’s no other word to describe the flash that passes through your gaze, and he doesn’t understand why you aim such a feeling at him. He’s barely spoken to you tonight, how could he have done something wrong?

“Nothing,” you answer in a better tone.

“Did I do something?”

Anger fades, it declines just as it mingles now with another emotion, one that he wishes he could forever banish from your face: pain.

“No, nothing,” you answer, and this time it isn’t a lie.

“Then, what’s wrong? Why are you angry at me?”

“I’m not…”

“Of course, you are. Come on, what’s wrong? You can tell me, I’ll fix it.”

But as you shake your head now, there are tears shining in your eyes, catching the light of the white streetlamps.

Your teeth chatter, and Sirius moves closer again, protecting you once more with his jacket. And it doesn’t really help, but it’s still sweet, and you look even more on the verge of crying now…

“What’s wrong?”

But you don’t say anything; instead you merely nod in the vague direction of his motorcycle, a few metres down the street.

“Please, take me home.”

He clenches his jaw, bits his tongue so he won’t insist. A curt nod is all he can summon, and he walks with you to his bike.

He hands you the pink helmet you adore, the one with the skull and the ‘pink is punk af’ logo on the side. But you don’t put it on. As he shrugs his jacket back on, he stares at you with a frown while you stare at the silly logo.

“Would you have given it to her?”

He catches your eyes as you look up, and he doesn’t understand why there are now tears mingling with rain on your cheeks.

“What?”

“To that girl, in the pub. Would you have taken her home like this too? Would you have given her my helmet?”

His frown only deepens.

“Why are you asking this?”

But you shake your head, hand him back his helmet.

His helmet. It was never yours in the first place, you need to remind yourself that…

“I’ll call for a cab.”

“I can take you home…”

“I don’t want you to.”

And it hurts to say it. It hurts even more to look at Sirius’s expression change, from confusion to pain.

“Stop that,” he complains. “Stop being mean. I haven’t done anything wrong, I’ve barely talked to you tonight, for goodness’ sake!”

“No, you’re right, you were too busy trying to get laid.”

There is such bitterness in your voice, Sirius doesn’t get where it comes from.

“And? What business is this of yours, anyway? You’re not my mother…”

“She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.”

“Why are you judging me, all of a sudden? I can sleep with whoever I fucking want to!”

“Oh, I know that, thank you! You’ve been doing a lot of that lately…”

“And whose fault is that?”

The answer slips before he can bite it back, and you’re a little taken aback by it. But Sirius drives your attention away. Your voices are still low, but both your tones cut like sharp stones, almost like knives, and every word strikes right where it hurts…

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but you’re being ridiculous right now.”

“Me? Ridiculous?”

“Yes! It’s raining, I’m freezing my arse here, so just take the fucking helmet and let me take you home safe and sound, alright?”

“You should go back to miss pretty hair…”

“Stop acting like you’re jealous.”

“Well I…”

But you fall silent, clearly biting back your words, and again, he doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m not jealous,” you finally let out.

And it hurts to hear you say it. It’s stupid, it’s selfish, this longing Sirius has in his chest for you to feel like that, for you to be jealous, for you to care…

It’s your turn to be taken aback by his tone when he answers in a quiet voice, all traces of anger gone, only something fragile left in his words.

“I know you’re not. I know…”

He heaves a sigh, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Look, I don’t want us to fight. I just want to make sure you get home safely. So, let me take you home, alright?”

“How many drinks did you have tonight?”

“Only a beer. I can drive.”

You’re about to yield, when the door of the pub opens… on the stranger Sirius has been hitting on the whole night.

“Oh, you really do have a motorcycle!” she exclaims, a little drunk, staying in the doorframe to avoid the rain.

She looks pretty like this, framed with golden light, cheeks flushed with alcohol, long hair cascading on her shoulders…

Sirius barely has time to register what’s happening, you’re already walking away.

“Y/N!”

“Siri! I wanted to give you my number!”

He’s started to follow you, but he turns to the stranger before hurrying after you again.

“Look, you’re nice, but I don’t think it’s gonna work out between us. Sorry about tonight.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, for her protest. He’s running after you now. How come you can be so damn fast on these slippery wet leaves…

“Y/N! Wait!”

“Leave me alone…”

“You were about to finally let me give you a ride…”

“Yes, and then I was reminded that you have other obligations tonight.”

“I don’t have any, I don’t want to spend the night with her.”

You turn on your heels at that, and Sirius almost bumps into you as you stop dead.

“Why not? Have fun!”

“Why are you being mean again?”

And it’s true, you are. Your tone is aggressive, unnecessarily so.

But it just hurts. It hurts to see him with other women when you’ve been longing for him for years…

“Because I’m mad at you!”

“Why? I only offered you a ride! I’m still freezing to death under this bloody rain for you!”

“I’ve never asked you to do that!”

“You don’t have to!”

“Why not? Why do you always help me, why are you always here, always kind, always ready to take care of me, but the next second you’re throwing yourself into someone else’s arms?!”

Tears are back to stain your cheeks, and Sirius suddenly grows very still. His entire body tenses up, his cheeks grow paler.

You can’t be meaning this…

“What?”

You realize he’s still holding this bloody, stupid helmet…

“You were going to give her my helmet.”

And it sounds so stupid, but it isn’t, really. You’re surprised when Sirius raises up his free hand to cup your cheek, guiding your eyes up to face him.

He blinks a few times, trying to read through you.

You can’t be meaning this…

“What do you mean?”

He takes a step closer. And his fingers are cold on your cheek, it’s raining too hard for him not to be unbearably cold, but it doesn’t matter. His breath draws white patterns in the air between you as he struggles to slow down his heartbeat.

“Are you jealous?”

The question is simple, the answer should be easy.

But you know he doesn’t feel the same, and he knows you don’t see him this way. And you reckon that he could have better, and he thinks he doesn’t deserve you…

“No.”

But your voice is weak, and everything screams ‘liar’ in your demeanour.

“You’re jealous.”

This time, it isn’t a question, it’s a statement. A realization, rather.

Sirius can barely breathe. Because he is jealous whenever a guy flirts with you. And that’s because he’s in love with you.

There, he said it, at long last, it’s out in the open. He’s fucking in love with you, and that’s why he wants to punch any guy who kisses you, why it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest whenever you have a boyfriend and he sees you happy with someone else, why he…

“It doesn’t matter,” you chirp, your voice barely there at all by now.

“Why are you jealous?”

“I’m not.”

“You… you said we were just friends. You keep on saying that. Every time anyone says that we’re more, you keep on saying we’re just friends.”

But you frown up at him. He guesses that’s because you’ve noticed how breathless he is now.

“Because we are friends.”

“Yes, but… I thought you… you friendzoned me.”

“What?”

“You. You friendzoned me. You’ve never let me think that you could feel anything for me. Romantically speaking, I mean.”

He runs his hand through his hair again, trying to push the drenched locks away. It’s raining even harder, the sound is deafening. He barely feels the rain colliding with his cheeks at all…

“Why would I have? You… you were clearly never interested.”

“I’m interested.”

“What?”

“I’ve been interested for two years.”

“WHAT?!”

“Why do you think I keep this ridiculous helmet with me all the damn time?”

He almost stops himself when he opens his mouth to speak again. Because he’s a mess, and you could have better. So much better. Someone who’s not as fucked in the head as he is.

But you’re looking up at him with the same kind of hope that he feels whenever he thinks of you, and even if it can’t last, he wants to believe in this dream of his, even if it must fade in a minute…

“I like you. A lot.”

“You… you like me?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you keep on sleeping around, then?”

“Because I thought I didn’t stand a chance, and I can’t get over you. Also… I’m a mess. A hot mess, but still a mess.”

He tries to give you a crooked smile, but it lacks the confidence he usually wears. He’s too fragile for now, at that moment. And this smoothness he has mastered over the years is altogether gone. Instead, he’s shaking out of both coldness and nerves.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, and his fear is genuine as it shines in his stormy eyes.

He waits for your answer, and it doesn’t come. Each second his heart is beating faster and faster, to the point where he wonders how it doesn’t simply explode. You open your mouth once, close it again.

And he’s cursing himself for his stupidity, for his vanity, for even imagining for a second that someone as wonderful as you could fall in love with a mess like him, for wasting it all, for fucking up the best friendship he has ever had…

Until the cold of the rain is replaced by the coolness of your palms on both of his cheeks. Until all the air is knocked out of his lungs when you press your soft lips against his. Until all he can do is kiss you back, rain now falling on his closed eyelids, getting caught in his lashes. The pink helmet slips from his hands, allowing him to wrap his arms around your frame, to pull you closer, so damn close, there is no space left between your bodies, only the layers of your wet clothes.

When you break away, you are both out of breath, and the rain is still falling just as hard, and none of you notice.

“I like you, too,” your admittance is a whisper, it makes Sirius grin anyway, brighter than you’ve ever seen.

He truly looks like the star he was named after now, beaming at you, holding your face with both hands.

He dives in for another kiss, and then another, and another, and it’s only when he feels your teeth chattering under his fingers between two kisses that he finally breaks your embrace.

He bends down to pick the helmet, hands it to you again.

“Please, put this damn thing on. I’m taking you home.”

“Will you stay?”

He can read in your eyes that you don’t mean tonight. You mean tomorrow morning. You mean the day after that. You mean forever.

He’s the one to put the helmet on your head, a tender smile on his lips, one that you’ve never seen before.

One that’s full of love.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m staying.”

************************************************

Taglist :

@reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

@wolfmoonmusic

[royalsweetteaa]

Right equation

Pairing: Fratboy!Johnny Storm x Tutor!reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - this story contains the following: explicit smut, tutor/college student relationship, age gap (reader is only a few years older), dirty talk/flirting, Johnny being a flirt, switch! Johnny, needy Johnny, fluff, mommy kink, praise kink angst if you squint, Johnny doesn’t have any powers in this fic.

Summary: For the past two years, you have been paid by Mr. Storm to tutor the infamous fratboy - Johnny Storm. You have successfully helped him pass his exams in college, and during your last hangout, Johnny wants to show how grateful he is for your help.

College life was soon coming to an end for the notorious frat boy of campus; Johnny Storm. In celebration of graduating, he had been partying with his mates all week.

The parties hadn’t been as exciting for him as before, but it was nice to celebrate nonetheless. While his friends followed the streak of partying, Johnny had stopped it here because today evening was important. It was the last day of having a scheduled study lesson, but since there were no exams to prepare for anymore, you two planned on hanging out one last time at his dorm and talk about his achievements and where he can go from there.

You were both laying in his bed with your legs hanging at the edge of it while sipping on some classic Coca Cola. He had bought something alcohol-free because he knew you hated alcohol, and he wasn’t in the mood to get tipsy anyway when all he wanted was to pay attention to you. You, who were the reason why he managed to graduate.

You talked for a good hour about internship, explaining the benefits of getting in touch with ‘this and this’ company. He quickly grew bored at how this hangout became nothing but educational like all previous meetings, and he decided it would be nice change the subject by saying a few ‘last words’ for her to remember how much she means to him.

“I’m going to miss you a lot, teach…I know I have been difficult a few times, but you have always remained patient with me and I admire that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh as you remembered all the times Johnny would arrive late to your tutoring sessions at your place, or when you would have those lessons at his dorm and be met with rather…unpleasant surprises.

“Yeah, I knew from the day I walked in on you and that girlfriend of yours making out in your bed when it was our first scheduled lesson that you would be a bit troublesome.” He pursed his lips of the reminder. The more he thought about it from time to time, the more he cringed over the fact that it was his first impression to you. It didn’t embarrass him back then, but the more he grew fond of you, the more he cursed himself for forgetting the time of his first lesson.

“But look at you now - you’re about to graduate and get into the real world. You have become a lot more responsible than when I first met you, and that is an improvement in itself,” You praised. His face lit up, imitating the face of a child being rewarded with candy for doing their homework.

“When you put it like that, I guess I can agree. You didn’t catch me making out with a girl since then.” He joked. You hummed in amusement. “For the record, she wasn’t my girlfriend. Just a…y’know..”

“I’m very aware of your reputation as a frat boy, no need to explain yourself.” You giggled. He timidly chuckled, not fully wanting to embrace your statement but it was true nonetheless. Everyone knew Johnny as a womanizer and the party king of frat parties. He used to sleep around all the time, having casual sex with women he found attractive around campus. That was until you came around and made studying actually interesting, and he found your company to be something to look forward to.

You and his father, mr. Storm were acquaintances, and he had contacted you when Johnny’s college situation became worrying. He was failing his exams and he needed assistance, and in a matter of months, Johnny was set on a brighter path with your help. It was an added bonus that your personality was very appealing to him and he found you attractive.

Johnny would joke about having a crush on you in the beginning, but when his lack of interest in having one night stands came apparent, he knew something was wrong. You had done something to him.

Your simple praises whenever he answered your questions right. Your voice when you would explain orally to him about things he didn’t understand.

The little things you did made him feel content, and the thought of you sharing those small gestures with someone else who might appreciate it less than him made him upset.

“What about you? Still single since I last asked you? Or maybe seeing anyone?” He asked casually, though he was eager to hear your answer. Not to mention anxious. He had asked you before, which many of his first attempts would be replied with ‘that’s none of your business and it would be unprofessional of me to answer that’. He had eventually learned there was no boyfriend in the picture when the two of you had a drink at the bar after hours of studying on a Friday afternoon.

He was taking advantage of getting to know you more personally now that you weren’t his tutor anymore. Sure, the two of you got along smoothly, but there was, in your words, no room for personal talk during your lessons when he tried to engage in it. You were the first woman that would deny him whenever he subtly flirted with you, by either shrugging it off as a joke or changing the subject into his study. He hated it. He hated even more that you wouldn’t take him seriously, as if compared to you he was a kid. He knew he wasn’t the most mature one in college, but he sure as hell wasn’t a kid.

He guessed since the two of you were in different significant life stages - you already being in the working field for a few years and him only starting, Johnny could understand why you showed little interest in him. - Or maybe he had to up his game and be more clearer with his feelings.

“Yup. Still single. It’s not like I have much time to ‘see anyone’ as I have a lot of work but…I should definitely pay more attention to my love life. I’m not getting any younger, so maybe I should focus on getting myself out there and mingle.” You answered.

“You’re not that old…you’re only a few years older than me. There’s no rush. And besides, you don’t need to be looking when….there might be someone in front of you.”

You laughed humorously, which made Johnny stiffen. “Yeah, right…enlighten me with the few men I occasionally talk to. There’s the janitor at my office who asks how I’m doing from time to time. Oh, and I guess the cashier at the cafe where I get my usual coffee from could make a good candidate. Have any other suggestions?”

“What about me?”

Your humored smile fell when those words left his mouth. You weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

“What?”

“You heard me…” Johnny muttered. “Why not me? Am I…that unappealing to you that I never cross your mind?”

You were knocked out of breath by his question, unsure if he was being serious. “I don’t-…Johnny, what are you trying to say? This isn’t funny.”

He put the can down on the table and stood up to level above you. “Yeah, no shit. I’m being one thousand percent serious right now, so I’m going straight to the point.” There was a slight pause until he gathered the confidence to say the next and most important thing. “I like you, Y/N. Like…I really, really like you. And I want to know if I have a chance. Right here. Right now.”

You were speechless with your mouth agape and your eyes wide open. You didn’t look like you had the words to respond to that just yet, so Johnny continued to talk.

“I’ve been whipped for you after having you around for less than a few months, and I’ve been trying to make moves, but you either purposefully ignore them or you’re just that obnoxious. Like, you literally caught me having a boner a month ago and shrugged it off as something normal. You didn’t think for one minute that I had it fucking bad for you?”

Your face turned red from his confession, which he didn’t seem to be embarrassed about in the slightest. “I-I’m sorry Johnny, I didn’t think you saw me as anything more than your tutor - it was and is far from appropriate. Not to mention, I’m hardly your type. I have nothing in common with the girls you usually go for.”

“Well, maybe that’s why I like you so much. Usually those girls are needy of me but I’ve grown needy for you. You’re so wise and smart, so kind and beautiful. You make my entire week from a 2 hour session, educating me about school stuff. Do you seriously think I’m the type to look forward to something like studying if it was someone else teaching me? I can’t even cum without thinking of your voice, your face and your boobs. You could be talking about algebra while I jerk off and I’m sure I’d be able to bust a load from just that!”

“O-okay, you’ve made your point!” You said while covering your burning cheeks with the palm of your hands. “I just can’t wrap my head around why of all women, you’d want to go for someone like me. I’m older and far from adventurous. I much more prefer reading a book than going to parties. I like keeping things in order and you seem to be the opposite of just that.” You argued.

“That’s just what attracts me to you, teach. You’re so mature in contrast with me. You have in your own special way managed to put me on the right path and mindset for my future, and I look up to you for that. You have even awoken something in me sexually that I have never felt for any other woman. You literally give off MILF vibes which is my new favorite porn category - except you’re not a mom, but you’re a mommy for sure.” Johnny said, changing the way of talking with a more sultry one. His face came closer as he put his hand in yours.

“I don’t want to end it with this last session. I don’t want to have you leave me knowing the last thing we did together was to talk about my options and plans, Y/N…I want to be together with you and get to know everything about you.”

You were hypnotized by how he spoke, and you were sure he knew he was arousing you with his way of speaking. However, your brain beat your heart, and you quickly backed away with a shaking head.

“Johnny…..we can’t…” you began, but immediately retorted saying anything else as you moved your head to the side.

Johnny sighed as his face saddened. You thought this was the end. That he would tell you to leave in disappointment and never speak to you again. But Johnny was always full of surprises.

“Then before we part ways, at least let me do something for you, teach. I want to reward you for being my amazing tutor.” He said, before sitting beside you and placing his hand on your thigh, sliding it suggestively close to to your inner thighs.

You shuddered at the contact and held back a moan when he slid it further to your cunt with each stroke.

“Please, let me make you feel good, teach..let’s feel good together for the night.” Johnny pleaded. Your thighs squeezed together when Johnny’s hands cupped your sex. You threw your head back when his middle finger started to stroke your sensitive clit through your panties and stockings.

“O-Okay, Johnny…ah, just this once.” You said with a shaky breath. He grinned smugly and closed his body to yours. He licked a stripe on your neck which made you yelp in surprise. His mouth wandered to your ear as he nibbled it gently. Since it was clear the two of you were doing this, you placed your hand on Johnny’s crotch to return the favor.

“Oh, mommy….” Johnny groaned from your touch. His hips bucked against your palm as you rubbed his bulge softly. He leaned in to leave wet and brushing kisses on your neck. “You’re so fucking hot. Almost had me creaming my pants like a fucking teenager there…” he whispered huskily. “But I’m a man, and m’not gonna cum until you do first, baby…”

“Mmm, Johnny…” you moaned his name. “T-This is so inappropriate but somehow I can’t find myself to care anymore…..your father would kill me if he found out.”

“Don’t worry a bit, teach. M’just thanking you for being the best tutor ever to exist. For being so good for me. Harmless enough, right? Besides, who gives a fuck what my father thinks? He couldn’t shut up about how glad he was to find you as my tutor. He would be proud of me if anything.” His hands snaked through your panties and teased your wet folds with circling strokes. “So wet…s’this all for me?” You nodded quickly in response. He pulled away from your neck and put his forehead against yours, his ocean colored orbs hazed in lust and vulnerability as he took you in. “You’re so pretty, Y/N…” he breathed out.

A sweet smile formed in your face while your eyes fluttered. “I think you’re pretty too, Johnny…” you whispered.

Johnny undressed from his denims and t-shirt, leaving him in only his boxers and socks. You unbuttoned your shirt in the meantime, biting your lip shyly when you saw the way Johnny was staring at you. His brows were wrinkled in pleasure.

“I love your boobs….always wanted to suck on them so bad. Wanna suck mommy’s boobs.” He said, flushed out. He used his finger to hook at the strings of your bra, sliding them down from your shoulder and revealing your breasts.

You look up at him before fondly holding his hand and placing it on your chest. “You may, Johnny. You’ve been a good boy to me and you deserve a reward too.”

You leveled up your game to match Johnny’s cockiness, but it seemed to drag his down in the process. He was growing needy and whiny by the minute, and you enjoyed it. You always thought Johnny was a sweet guy despite his lack of maturity. He was funny, and made you feel like a teenager all over again with his wittiness. The further this went though, the more you discovered the desire to nurture him.

Without hesitation, he crouched and grabbed your boobs with both of his hands, squeezing them in fascination. “So round…” you heard him mumble. He attached his mouth into one of your nipples and suckled like his life depended on it. He was like a baby, desperate for the mother’s milk. His tongue swirled around your perking nipple and his moans sent vibrations through your sensitive skin.

While he did his work on your breasts, you reached down to his boxer and took his dick out, stroking it gently to give him some relief. He responded with a loud moan and let his head rest on your shoulder.

“Oh, god…your hand feels so soft. Call me what you called me earlier again, teach. Please, I need to hear it.” Johnny pleaded.

You were a bit distracted to understand what he was referring to, but it quickly dawned upon you.

“You’re a good boy, Johnny. You’ve been such a good boy. Doing what I tell you to do and improving yourself for your sake….you deserve only the best, Johnny boy.” You praised while stroking his hair with your other hand.

He panted with each thrust of your hand, sending him in euphoria. “We deserve each other, teach. Only you can make me feel this way. I-I swear, there’s no other girl that can make me whine like a little bitch. S’only you…nngh please tell me I’m yours, mommy. I only want to be your good boy. Please, don’t leave me. Wanna be your good boy so much, teach. Please, please, please!..” Johnny begged with sealed eyes.

You stopped stroking him and cupped his face. It was now clear to you how nervous Johnny was for the future - one without you. There was a hint of distress along with it, and you realized just how attached Johnny had become of you. It was then that you made a decision. A decision that would make his worries leave.

“Shhh, it’s okay Johnny. I’ll stay with you. I promise. I’m all yours, and you’re mine.” You cooed.

His face lit up with so much relief, he looked like he was on the verge of crying. “Thank you, Y/N. You won’t regret this.” He said and gave you a hug. You returned it likewise, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his cheek before you leaned into his ear.

“Now, I recall you said you wanted to reward me. Show me how good you can make me feel with that dick of yours.”

A smirk appeared on Johnny’s face, and he immediately went back to work. He leaned you down on the bed with your legs still on the edge of his bed. He adjusted his placement to be between your legs, and rested his fat cock on your stomach, humping you slowly with his balls giving your clit a light slap. He couldn’t help himself and squeezed your left tit a few times before he paid attention to your heating core.

“Your pussy’s gorgeous, mommy…can’t wait to be inside you…” he groaned.

You stared down at his length in disbelief, only now being able to take in his size. “I-It’s so big! I don’t know if it’ll fit.” You nervously laughed as Johnny aimed his cock at your hole.

He lightly chuckled at the unintentional compliment and stroked your bare legs. “It’s alright, baby. I’ll make it fit. Stretch mommy so good you’ll never want anything else…”

He entered you with eagerness, making you jolt your head back with a howl. “Oooh, fuuuck!” You moaned.

“Shit, I’m sorry!…I-I couldn’t help myself…” Johnny apologized breathlessly. “You okay, teach?”

“I’m okay…it’s just, mmmh!…I feel so full..” you grunted. “It feels so good..”

Johnny’s worried expression faltered into an amused one. His ego was being stroked so hard it almost made him combust.

“Hmmm, I love your pussy, mommy…s’hugging my cock so good…wanna be buried inside of you always.” He purred. His hips rolled against yours and he gripped your waist tight.

You almost went cross eyed at the sensation of being fucked by a guy of high sex stamina. His hips wouldn’t stop frantically slamming into you, making your weeping hole hold tight onto his cock. You didn’t want him to stop at all. He was clearly a master in terms of how to make a woman feel good.

“Am I doing a good job, mommy? Am I?” He asked, desperately. You could sense his begging for validation miles away, and you quickly opened your mouth to give him just that.

Oh, yes!! Yes, Johnny, you’re making me feel like so good! M’so close to cumming! Hmm you’re so amazing, baby…mommy’s so proud of you..”

He whimpered at your praise, wanting nothing more but to make you cum around his cock. His thrusts was unlike anything a man of your age has provided. It was sourced with endless energetic rapidness to the point where it felt like you were being jackhammered. You were on the verge of climax when Johnny moved his thumb on your clit, giving full stimulation needed to make you orgasm.

“Cum, mommy…please cum for me, I need to feel it so bad. Hmmm fuck, you’re drowning me here with your pussy juice. Feels euphoric..”

Your brain went numb as he continued his frantic pounding combined with the stimulation he was providing in your clit. Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm closed in, making you twitch uncontrollably.

“Shit, aaaah I’m cumming! Oh, god!” You announced with a howl.

Your channel tightened around Johnny’s cock, sending him also to the verge of unleashing his load. “M’gonna cum too, mommy! Fuck, fuck fuck! Ah, Please, let me cum on your tits! Please, please, please!”

You were still having aftershocks of your orgasm as Johnny continued to stutteringly thrust into you, indicating he couldn’t hold it for much longer.

You whispered a raspy ‘you may’, and that was enough of an indication for him to pull out of you and climb over to your upper body. He gave it a few thrusts before he spilled all over you, shooting his hot load on your breasts while panting like he just had ran a marathon. Cum was splattered all over you, some only made it beneath your breasts and up near your throat. Most of it had invaded your breasts though, causing the milky substance to trickle down and spread around your soft flesh.

Johnny had a deep shade of red across his cheeks as he looked flushed from what had just taken place. After a moment of admiring your cum-covered tits, he hovered above you and gave you your first shared kiss. It was filled with eagerness from Johnny’s side, as if he had been waiting for this moment for ages. Before he leaned away from you, he nuzzled your nose with his as a loving gesture. You were about to rise up in accordance to Johnny, but he stopped you.

“Don’t move. Let me clean up my mess, mommy…” Johnny insisted.

You leaned back on the bed and let Johnny’s face close into your breasts. Your eyes didn’t blink once as you watched him graciously lapping up his cum from your chest, giving your boobs an occasional squeeze and suck. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen with your own eyes, and it made you melt all the more at his soft hums when he was soon done.

He sucked one spot longer and detached his lips from your skin with a light pop before slumping on the bed beside you.

“Fuck…I can finally cross fucking a tutor off my bucketlist.” He rasped out pridefully.

You rolled your eyes. “Honestly, You’re such a slut, Johnny.”

He let out a laughter. “Ha, I sure am. I’m only a slut for you though. Haven’t hooked up in a long time because it it didn’t do it for me anymore. Got better off using my fleshlight and imagining you.” Your face scrunched a bit at yet one of his blunt confessions, but you took it as a compliment nonetheless. “You were on my mind all the time, haunting me whenever I tried to hook up with someone. I have lost my game because of you, but I honestly don’t care since I got something amazing out of it.” His arms wrapped around you and he smiled gleefully at you.

You tilted your head with an honored smile. “That’s…actually kinda sweet. You know…my favorite trope in romantic fiction used to be the one where the guy is a jock and the girl is a nerd who the jock eventually falls for, because she’s ‘different’. In high school I hoped one of the local jocks would fall for me, but of course they were far from romantic compared to the fictional version. But you mister, are something else. I suppose frat boys are my new type.”

Johnny beamed. “Good, good. Jocks are overrated anyways.”

“And MILFs are not?” You challenged with narrowed eyes.

“They are, but it’s a basic male fantasy.” He defended.

“Right, I can tell based on how you’re playing out that fantasy by calling me mommy.” You say unamused and look to the side.

He furrowed his eyes in confusion before he understood the meanings of your comment. You regretted saying that immediately. “Y/N, wait…look at me for a moment.” He ordered, and you obliged.

“You’re not someone I use to play whatever male fantasy I may have. You’re so much more than that to me. It’s just an added bonus that I think you’re perfect mommy material, which I didn’t discover was something I was into until I met you. Don’t lie and tell me you weren’t turned on by how needy I was for the simplest things. You make me go crazy, Y/N.” You blushed at the accusation, thinking over how right he was.

“Besides, if you don’t want me to call you that anymore then that’s completely fine. I can totally dom if you’re more into that. I’ll stop if it means you’ll still be with me. Having you by my side is the foremost important thing to me.” He leaned into you and rested his head on your chest with his face nuzzled underneath your chin. His hair was so fluffy and it made it all too hard to resist stroking his hair.

“N-No, it’s fine…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse you of not valuing me.” You said apologetically. “As embarrassing as it is to admit, I kinda like it when you call me that…guess I discovered a side of me I didn’t know existed either by being with you.” You concluded. “I’m proud to call you my good boy.”

He hummed into your chest. “Hmmm, don’t make me excited, baby. You’ll have me begging to fuck you again if you keep dropping that petname so casually.”

Note from author: this is my first fic with one of the cevans characters being a bit of a subby hoe. Johnny’s on second place of being a closet sub after Jake in my book.

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated!

[kai-anderson-whore]

Can I have an Evan request? Could it be that they have an age gap (I’m 22 lol) and she is insecure and it ends with fluff and maybe smut??

Of course sorry it took a bit to write and I hope you like it🥰

Do you love me? (Evan peters x fem reader smut)

Summary: you and Evan have been secretly dating for six months but you don’t want to hide anymore

Warnings: smut, fluff, p in v intercourse, self doubt, questioning of relationships, private relationships let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 1,6k

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You sat on your boyfriend's bed strolling through instagram seeing all the photos of the event he had attended last night. You hadn't attended the event since you and Evan weren't publicly a couple. You knew Evan likes to keep his personal life private but you couldn't help but feel insecure you had been dating for a little over six months and you couldn't go and do normal couple things because no one knew.

You could say you love him but neither of you said it yet. He was a few years older than you you were 22 and him only just turning 36. You knew if you both came out publicly about your relationship some may have not so nice opinions but you didn't care. Evan made you happy unlike anyone had before in previous relationships. He is kind, funny, humbling despite his line of work and just the most sweetest person ever.

You just worship the ground that man walks on. But the worry and insecurities still remain within you, 'I'm I really good enough for him?', 'does he love me?', 'is he going to break up with me that's why we aren't public?'. The thoughts ate you up. Biting your nails looking at how happy he was in photos with other celebrities.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Evan walking in with a towel wrapped securely around his waist, droplets of water dripping from his hair. "Hey babe" he smiled sweetly grabbing some clean underwear and sweatpants from his drawer. "Hey" you mumbled still lost inside your head you hadn't realised that Evan placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

"You okay?" He asked noticing your lack of awareness. You nodded your head saying you were fine but Evan knew you weren't. "Are you sure you look like your about to cry, come on babe talk to me" he whispered now sitting down in front of you. Your head hung low in shame the tears pricked your eyes.

"Hey don't cry" his voice become more soft like you would crumble at any given moment. His arms wrapped around your frame as you just sobbed into his arms. Evan just let you cry everything out till you were ready to talk, his hand rubbing your back soothing you, soft whispers of "it's okay" and "just let it all out" whilst placing his lips on top of your head.

You stayed huddled into his bare chest for about five minutes just letting all the buildup of your suppressed emotions out finally. "Evan do you even like me?" You asked not looking into his eyes fearing they would show you something that you didn't want to see. Evan scrunched his face in confusion not knowing where this had came from. He was absolutely smitten with you from the moment he laid eyes on you and it was beyond him why you would think differently.

A soft chuckle of disbelief and nervousness left Evans lips "what makes you say that?" He asked his hand still stroking your back comfortingly. You finally looked up at him seeing a pang of hurt within his brown orbs. "It's just your friends know about us and that but we can't even go out in public because we aren't official I'm not caring about the media and all that I just want the hiding to stop it's killing me" you sobbed more.

Evan hadn't realised that it upset you that much. He would love to be open about your relationship to everyone but with the past and who he is he preferred to have a private life. "I didn't know it upset you y/n I completely understand why it is upsetting you but I want you to know over these past six months you shook up my whole world for the better, and yes I do like you a lot in fact it's not even that anymore" Evan paused taking a deep breath unsure if he should drop the bomb on you both at this moment.

"It's what Evan?" You asked feeling scared incase he took his words back. You studied his every feature focusing more so on his perfect brown eyes. They showed something more towards you. Evan parted his lips licking them "I love you y/n" he blurted out. Your eyes went wide he finally said those three words that you had been dying to hear.

"W-what" you lowly gasped not fully processing what he just said. "I love you and I'm so sorry for making you feel like this and questioning my feelings towards you. but god y/n I love the bones off you and we should go public about your relationship" Evan remained his strong eye contact with you. You felt your heard swell with joy from his words. The tears that treacle down your face went from sorrow to pure joy.

"I love you too Evan" you whispered a smile cracked on to Evans lips before crashing them on your own plumped ones. The kiss wasn't like anything before it was soft yet full with passion, like he was trying to express himself more or like it would be the very last kiss you'd ever have.

His hand placed on your cheek holding you close. your lips moved in sync your hands tangled through his locks as he gently pushed you further down the mattress his body shifted between your legs, his hand moved to your side caressing your soft skin from beneath your thin nightdress. The other supporting him upright. You could feel his erection hidden by the towel on your inner thigh slightly grinding against the bare skin for friction.

A small whine left your lips as Evan pulled away only to remove your nightdress only leaving you in your underwear. "God how did I get so lucky" he happily sighed before pressing his lips back on yours. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip seeking entry which you accepted. Your tongues danced with each other your hands trailed along his arms down to his chest driving Evan wild.

Your hands went lower hovering over the towel covering him, slightly tugging on the fabric for it to drop off Evans hips. You bit your lip in excitement as Evan began pulling your panties down discarding them on the wooden floor. You could feel the heat raising within your heat the anticipation clawing at you waiting on his next move.

Evan lined himself up with your entrance your core desperate to be fulfilled. With one gentle push of his hips he entered slowly into you, you lowly gasped your hands on his shoulders. Your face scrunched as Evan pushed deeper into you but his lips peppered along your skin as a way to focus on something else.

“It’s okay baby” he whispered in your ear pulling out almost fully before thrusting into you passionately, a moan left your lips your hands making their way to evans back slightly digging your nails into his back earning a groan from him.

“I love you so much” Evan’s hot breath fanned your face, a droopy smile on his lips, passion and admiration within his brown eyes. “I love you too” you hummed lightly as Evan picked up a steady passionate rhythm. Both of your breathing became heavy, your mind clouded by Evan you were completely like putty in his hands.

The room soon was filled by moans and grunts from you both. Evan started to pick up the pace of his thrusts into you, his head dipping into your shoulders, your hands tugging at his hair driving him wild. A repeat of “I love you’s” left both your lips. It wasn’t like anything you did before it was like you both unlocked this new passion for one another a whole new meaning as your body’s united as one.

“I’m so close Evan” you moaned out your hips bucking upwards as Evan hit that spot guaranteed to make you see stars. “Me too baby” he says slick sweat decorating your skin, you hair tossled over the pillow but Evan thought you couldn’t get anymore beautiful. The way your eyes would roll back with each thrust he delivered to you, the your lips would part open letting your moans slip freely like music to his ears.

With a few more thrusts you felt that knot in your core begin to unravel. another loud moan left your lips as you reached your climax, your back arched a “fuck fuck” you cried out the euphoric feeling of your orgasm triggering Evan’s filling you up with his hot seed. His thrusts were sloppy milking you through your highs till he practically collapsed on top of you.

All you could hear was heavy breathing your hand strokes the back of Evan’s neck trying to regain your breaths. “I really mean it y/n I love you” Evan stated glancing at you with those eyes that always captivate you into a trance. “I know I love you too” you smiled sweetly with sleepy eyes.

Evan pulled out of you a whimpered sigh escaping from your lips at the loss of contact. Evan grabbed a towel helping you get cleaned up. You throw on your nightdress back on once you were all clean Evan discarded the towel in the dirty laundry basket in the corner of the room before climbing into bed with you.

You laid your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you holding you close. “Goodnight y/n” he mumbles sleepily “goodnight Evan I love you” you yawned eyes closed but you could feel him smiling down at you “I love you too”.

[obliqueblade]

A Post from a Friend

Hello, everyone. I am not Obliqueblade, and for those who have been here before, I’m sure you know what that means. For those unaware, or those stumbling across this blog in the future, I will explain. 

The original owner of this account, my best friend, has died. 

I didn't even know that she had a Tumblr, nor that she had planned to leave it with me after everything. It breaks my heart a bit to see her updates and talk about her prognosis as she did. 

I’m sure I’ll have more to say, eventually, I do plan on doing as she asked, completing her work the way she wanted- but for now, I want to grieve my friend. Then, I want to talk about who she was, explain just how much this community meant to her, and generally just talk about one of the greatest people I’ve known. 

She did leave a message she wrote a month ago, about a week before she passed, and I would like to share it with you all now. 

Feel free to leave comments, I’ll be back to answer soon. 

Thank you. 

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

I have been putting this off for quite some time, but I fear I have no more time I can delay. Despite everything, I’m still a procrastinator at heart. I have spent far too much time thinking of how I want to address those who have stumbled onto my account and on my writing, but I fear for all my writing I am not sure how to word what I feel. 

Rather than continuing to wait, I have decided to write what I have collected of my thoughts thus far. I deeply appreciate those who have left likes, comments, and reposts of my writing- even those outside of “Who are you, really?”. When I started this journey, I had not anticipated it taking as long as it has. I also did not foresee what would occur at that time. I had thought I would live to see the end of my fic, but that can no longer be the case.

But that is the way life works, I suppose. Most people are not dealt the hands they deserve, nor are they given nearly enough time. 

I have always wished to help people- I had hoped that I would be able to achieve that in my life, but I am not sure I can say I have. Regardless, I am grateful for those who were able to contribute to my happiness these past few years. 

Recently, I have to admit I took a step back from writing, as well as watching Hermitcraft. I fear my heart may not be able to take not knowing what I will be left never to know. Waiting on those cliffhangers of “what’s next”- when I do not know if I will wake up tomorrow. 

I am satisfied with what I have seen so far, and as of writing this, Joel has announced his own TCG common card. I have asked the friend I have left this account for to get one on my behalf to join the others I have. I would like them, as well as all the merch I have to be with me. It feels important that even though I will no longer be here, those stay with me. 

While I may not be watching Hermitcraft as I wait, I am pleased with the memories I carry—the joy they bring me. The edits, art, and stories this community has created supported and distracted me in some of my darkest moments, and I truly regret that I will not be able to finish this story, with my own words, the way I had intended. 

Finally, I want to say, thank you. Even if you are discovering all of this after my passing, I am grateful to all those who have stumbled into my little corner of the internet. Just because I am gone, the things I have gotten to create will forever remain as moments captured from a different time.

This was truly the happiest few years of my life and in the words of Technoblade himself

 “I hope you all go on to live long, prosperous, and happy lives because I love you guys”

~ObliqueBlade Out

[fluentmoviequoter]

Be Professional or Tell the Truth

Requested Here!

Pairing: TO!Jim Street x rookie!fem!reader

Summary: You and your TO Jim Street have an instant connection but decide to keep things professional. When you're both injured by bikers, you decide to tell the truth instead.

Warnings: kinda TO/rookie AU, brief angst, mentions of fights and injuries, fluff, life advice from Deacon

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

“Officer Jim Street.”

You fight the urge to look over your shoulder at him. Every rookie has heard Jim Street’s name, though you have no idea what to expect with him as your training officer. When you are dismissed to begin your training, to go on patrol for the first time, you take a deep breath before approaching him.

“Officer Street,” you say softly before offering your name and hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he replies. “And I know what you want to ask, so go ahead.”

“Guilty. Who presses your uniform? Because those are the sharpest creases I’ve ever seen.”

You know what he expected; it’s the question every rookie has: ‘Why be a TO when you could have been S.W.A.T.?’ When Street smiles at your reply, you know it will be a long few months with him. You already feel a unique connection to Street, and the fact that he’s talking to you like a friend rather than a rookie makes you think he feels it, too.

Street tilts his head, gesturing for you to follow him. You walk past a small group of officers and assume they’re S.W.A.T. by how intently they watch Street. Unknown to you, they can also see something between you and Jim Street.

“I will never understand his decision,” Tan says while he watches Street pat your shoulder. “I can see it’ll work out as usual, though.”

“You know what they say, Tan: those who can’t do, teach,” Hondo teases. “What you see, Deac?”

Deacon shrugs. He sees something he recognizes in how Street looks at you because he looks at Annie and his kids like that. “He’s not just her TO.”

“Meaning?” Hondo inquires.

“You’ll understand… someday.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’s a code 3?” Street asks as you drive through downtown Los Angeles.

“Emergency, proceed with lights and sirens,” you answer. “Code 2 is urgent but not necessarily lights and sirens.”

Street nods. He has been quizzing you about police radio and penal codes all morning to ensure you know the basics. Your first day goes well, and with Jim Street as your TO, you don’t understand how anyone could quit because of their training officer. Maybe he’s just one of the good ones.

“End of shift,” Street announces at the end of the day. “You did well.”

“Thank you, sir. Can I- can I ask the obvious question?”

“Sure,” he replies with a smile.

“I’ve heard, like everyone else, that you were handpicked for a S.W.A.T. team. Why teach when you could breach?”

You smile at your unintentional rhyme and unconsciously lean closer to Street as he answers.

“I tried. That’s the part that most people don’t know, is that I did join the team and I tried. Wasn’t cut out for it, yet, I suppose. I had some growing up to do.”

“And what better way to grow up than to walk rookies through it? Have someone you can yell at while growing up together, right?”

“You know, most rookies are scared of their TOs and wouldn’t talk to them like this,” Street points out. His smile tells you that he doesn’t mind, though.

“My apologies, sir. I promise to be nothing but professional moving forward. If you answer one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“I’m not supposed to remove my firearm from the holster unless I intend to.”

Street rubs the skin between his eyes as he sighs your name.

“Sorry, sir. In all seriousness, do you think you’d ever go back to S.W.A.T.? After you grow up and are cut out for it. I think you already are, but you know yourself better than I do, of course.”

“Maybe,” Street answers. “But I’ve got to get you through the hardest months of your career first. We’ll see how I feel once you’re in short sleeves.”

“When you talk about me wearing less clothing, it’s a bit hard to remain professional, sir,” you tease.

“Get out of the car.”

You laugh as you obey his demand, and he’s shaking his head in amusement. Immediately, you know that you and Street will both end up where you want to be in the department; you’re worried that you won’t be able to remain professional for that long. Whatever you felt for Street this morning has been multiplied by a hundred after a few hours in a police cruiser with him, so you have your work cut out for you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Streeter!” Luca yells. “We’re going out for pizza, want to come?”

“Sure,” Street agrees.

“Want to invite your rookie?” Hondo asks.

“No, dinner together is not very professional.”

“That’s the route you’re taking. Professionalism?” Deacon says with a knowing look.

“What does that mean?”

Street and Deacon begin walking together, following the rest of 20-David to the parking lot.

“It means that you’re doomed. You can be professional or tell the truth, but those don’t coexist in your situation.”

“So, by doing my job well I’m lying?”

“To yourself at least.”

“Thanks for the life advice, Deac, but I think I can figure this out.”

“Sure, you can, kid.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Deac. I can’t believe you make Annie deal with this.”

“Mmhmm,” Deacon replies. “And I’m sure you were nothing but serious alone in that car all day. If I requested to review the cam footage, I wouldn’t see a hint of flirtation, right?”

“Deacon, nothing is going to happen. We’re both just working toward the career we want, okay?”

“Okay. I understand not wanting someone else in your business, but if you decide you do want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The next few weeks working with Street are busy and covered with faux professionalism. Your interactions are nearly scripted with how much you think before speaking. Talking about work, being quizzed by Street, and talking about your personal life under no circumstances is the only way to remain professional. You have dozens of questions you’d like to ask, but your connection is surviving somewhere under your TO/rookie relationship. If you want to have a future of being friends, or more, with Street in the future, you have to look at him as your TO and nothing more.

“415g, multiple 417s, 664 and possible 187 near your location,” dispatch radios.

“10-4, responding,” Street replies. He turns toward you to ask, “Codes?”

After flipping the switches for the lights and sirens, you answer, “415g, gang disturbance, 417s are people with firearms, 664 attempted murder and, uh, possible 187… possible homicide.”

“What question could you ask?”

“Gang disturbance,” you realize. “Is it a known gang?”

Street looks at the report and nods to himself. “Biker gang,” he reads. “In a known biker bar.”

“What’s our approach?”

“You tell me.”

You think for a moment before asking, “Limited entry? We could check out the situation and back out if we need to wait for backup.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Street calls for backup anyway, but you pull up beside the bar a moment later. You fall into line behind Street, holding your service weapon beside your hip, and he walks into the bar's front door.

“LAPD!” he yells.

Even standing beside him, you can barely hear Street over the noise of the brawl. At least ten bikers are fighting in the middle of the barroom floor. Table and chairs are scattered, and glass bottles and mugs are shattered on nearly every surface.

“LAPD!” Street tries again.

“Do something, man! They’re gonna kill ‘im!” one of the men at the side of the bar yells.

“Who, sir?” you ask.

“My brother’s in there!”

Street holsters his weapons quickly and removes his belt before passing it to you. You know he has a soft spot, an inherent need to protect people, but he doesn’t stand a chance against these bikers.

“Street, don’t! Just wait for our backup!” you implore.

“They’re two minutes out and we don’t have time. Just stay back, no matter what,” Street replies.

You watch, helpless, as Street pulls one of the guys back and is immediately pulled into the fight. When a man is pushed out of the circle, you rush to him and pull him back farther.

“Dude!” the man from the bar calls. “I thought you were a goner.”

“I feel like I am,” he groans.

“Help is on the way, sir,” you promise.

As you turn back to find Street, you can see him on the floor and rush toward the biker closest to you. Sirens sound outside before you can do anything to help, so you run outside and direct the responding officers into the bar. After you pull one of the bikers off balance, you push into the circle and kneel beside Street.

“I told you to stay back,” he says. 

Street has been thoroughly beaten up, and his nose and lip are bloody as he speaks. You’ve been worried about him since he laid a hand on the first biker, but now that you see how bad it is, your worry spikes.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” you say.

“I’m fine,” Street insists as he struggles to sit up.

You place a hand on Street’s upper back and help him move. Once he's upright, you see a gash across his cheekbone, likely from a ring. Pulling the bottom of your sleeve over your wrist, you gently press the fabric against Street’s face.

“I said I’m fine,” Street grumbles.

“Just- just let me help,” you argue softly. “It’s bleeding a lot. If you want to be a brave guy and refuse the hospital, fine, but don’t bleed out from a completely avoidable head wound.”

Street can hear your worry in your rambling and lets you help rather than argue with you. He knows what it is like to be worried about someone, and though he doesn’t need it, he appreciates your concern.

“Thanks,” he says when you pull your sleeve back to look at his face. “But you’re going to have to change out of that biohazard now.”

You huff, concerned by his other injuries. “Stop trying to get my shirt off,” you whisper.

You accept a cloth from a passing paramedic and wipe the dried blood from Street’s skin. When your gaze drops, your eyes widen. Street’s knuckles are busted open, which you expected, but a deep red mark surrounds one of his forearms. 

“What happened there?” you ask.

When his brows furrow, you point to it with your chin.

“One of them grabbed me, I guess,” he mumbles. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Because you’re still on an adrenaline high. Let a paramedic look, or…”

“Or what?” Street asks, smiling up at you.

“I’ll- I don’t know, I’ll stop being professional.”

“That doesn’t sound like a threat,” Street murmurs, but he calls for a paramedic anyway.

“Officer Street,” you begin. You have to fill him in on the severity of the situation. “There’s three dead bodies in the back room. It seems like a rival biker gang came in and killed them but finding them is what started this fight.”

“Then we need to find the rival gang, the killers,” Street adds as he uses his uninjured hand to push himself up.

“Street, be careful!”

“I’m fine. Hey, look at me,” Street demands. “I’m okay. I appreciate the concern, but those dead bikers back there need it more. Let’s work for them, and then we’ll worry about us.”

You nod slowly. A paramedic wraps Street’s arm before you leave. He is clearly in pain, and it gets worse as his adrenaline drops. You try to focus on finding the other bikers, but you are still concerned about Street.

“Why did you jump in?” you ask once you’re back in the car.

“Do you want the truth or the acceptable cop’s duty answer?”

“The truth.”

“I had a brother. And we fought for each other constantly. So, when that guy said his brother was in there, it was like my brother was in there.”

You nod and fall silent. Returning to your previous professionalism covers your worries, but your continued glances at Street are not hidden. He stops caring, too touched by your concern to insist he is okay again.

“Street,” you say before pointing to a group of bikers sitting in a dark alley.

After rolling the window down slightly, you can hear them yelling about something. Street radios for backup while you watch the group. When one of them steps back, you see a gun tucked into his waistband.

“One of them has a gun,” you tell Street without turning around. “I have an idea.”

“No,” Street answers.

“You didn’t even let me-“

“Does it involve you going over there alone?”

“Maybe.”

“Then no.”

You wait for Street to return his attention to the mobile computer on the dash to pull your belt off. When you begin unbuttoning your long-sleeved shirt, Street turns toward you quickly.

“What are you doing?” Street demands.

“I’m getting answers. We need to know if these are our killers, and I think I can do that.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“You look like a cop.”

“I look like your superior, and I’m saying no.”

“Street, please.”

Street’s jaw clenches, and he looks over at the bikers before sighing.

“You have two minutes and then I’m coming over there for you,” he says.

“Deal. But a full two minutes, Street.”

You exit the car and cross in front of the alley twice before turning into it.

“Hi,” you call. “Sorry. I’m lost. There’s a bar that one of my friends invited me to and I was just wondering if you could help me find it.”

The man with the gun turns toward you and smiles as he looks you up and down.

“Sure, baby. What’s the bar? I can even give you a ride if you’d like to arrive in style,” he replies.

The other bikers laugh at his comment, and you giggle nervously. You say the name of the bar where you found the other bikers this morning and watch them look at one another.

“Girl like you don’t need to go to a bar like that,” the man says as he steps toward you. “Why do you wanna go there?”

“I just got invited. My friend has a boyfriend nicknamed Bear Warden and he invited us.”

At the mention of another biker’s name, several of the men step forward. You step back, but the man closest to you grabs your forearm and pulls you toward him. Tripping over his foot, you twist and land on your back.

“I’m sorry,” you begin.

“Ain’t nobody know Bear Warden ‘cept the other bikers, which means you’re either lying or you’re a cop.”

“Do I look like a cop?” you demand.

“You will in a minute,” one of the other men threatens before kicking the side of your leg.

As you pull your arms over your face, they give you a version of the treatment Street got in the bar this morning. Footsteps echo in the alleyway, and you hear Street yell for everyone to freeze before a fist hits the underside of your jaw.

More blue and red lights illuminate the alley, and you stand slowly as a group of police officers approach and begin arresting the bikers. Street runs to your side and lays his hands on your shoulders.

“Your turn to go the hospital,” he says with his voice strained.

“I don’t want to. I’m fine,” you promise. “They didn’t even hit me that hard; probably their act of kindness for the week.”

Street nods as his eyes drop. Your roles have reversed, and now you are receiving Street’s concern. He seems less inclined to remain professional as he fusses over you.

“Then we’re going back to the station and you’re seeing a medic.”

“Street,” you interrupt. “I’m fine. But these guys were just gang members. We need to find the leader before he gets away.”

“He would have put the hit out on the others, more than likely. You sure you feel up to this?”

“Do you?”

“Better than ever. Let’s go solve a case.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you return to the station with the leader of LA’s leading biker gang in custody, you struggle to remain professional. You want to hug Street and thank him for everything he’s done for you today, but you remember what you said in your first week about keeping things professional. You enter the locker room and change in silence before exiting the station. Street is standing at the back of his car, and he calls you over when he sees you.

“Are you okay?” you ask once you’re beside him.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he responds.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending to be professional when we both clearly want more.”

You nod and tug on your fingers. “What do you want to do instead, then? Ignore it?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”

“Like a date?”

“Like a date. As long as that’s what you want, too.”

You sigh before saying, “That’s exactly what I want, Officer Street.”

“Right now?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” you reply.

Street offers his hand and helps you into his car. You make quite the couple, you think, sporting matching bruises from a run-in with rival biker gangs and sharing soft touches that avoid said bruises. Street holds your hand as he drives to Santa Monica for dinner; he doesn’t want to go to another restaurant or bar in Los Angeles for a few days and would like to make better memories with you.

“If we’re not pretending to be professional anymore, off the clock at least so we don’t get fired, does that mean I can kiss you after dinner if I want?” you ask as he parks.

“I think maybe we should wait on that,” he replies.

“Take things slow,” you agree with a nod.

“Oh, no, I’d kiss you before dinner, but we both got punched in the face today and I think it would hurt.”

You laugh as every semblance of professionalism is thrown aside as you enjoy a date night with Street. When Street drops you off at the station after dinner to get your car, you promise to kiss him after your next date.

“We’ll take the easy calls to make sure we can,” he agrees as he hugs you.

“You told her the truth,” Deacon says when he walks out of S.W.A.T. HQ.

“What does that mean?” you ask Street.

“That he realized professionalism has no place in a relationship. Not the other way around,” Deacon explains before winking at you and walking away.

“You, me, dinner and a kiss on Friday?” you ask Street.

“As long as you remember that I’m your superior from now until then,” he counters.

“We’ll see.” 

[walkingintheheartbreaksatellite]

Fake Happy(1)

(Harry Styles x Reader)

Song:

Summary: A heartbroken Harry meets a heartbroken Y/N. Friends to lovers.

Warnings: Cursing.Angst.Fluff.

>>>————————————->

“Trevor, you need to figure your shit out.”

He scoffs into the phone.

“Y/N, you know how much this means to me-.”

“Of course I do! I’ve been working my ass off to support us when you move here and now you’re just suddenly done?! You haven’t spoken to me for days and now you drop this on me?!”

He sighs and I sniffle, fighting back my tears.

“I just- I don’t think we’re good together anymore… I’m sorry Y/N, but that’s the way it is. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

He hangs up, and my tears start to fall. I sniffle and wipe my face with my sleeve before locking my car and heading into my parents large house. It’s crowded inside and it takes me a few minutes to find my father, who gives me a look of displeasure the second he sees me.

“Y/N, what have we talked about? You can’t show up to these things in that ratty uniform of yours. Diane, sweetheart, would you please take her upstairs and fix her?”

My mother smiles and nods, taking my hand and pulling me through the house and up the stairs into my parent’s bedroom. She shuts the door and turns to me, pulling me into a hug.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart…”

My eyes widen and she pulls away, wiping away my remaining tears.

“How did you-.”

“Mother’s instincts. You were far too good for him. You are more than I ever thought you could be. I’m very proud.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and she walks into her closet.

“Why…? Father isn’t happy…”

She comes out with a cocktail dress and a pair of matching heels, a frown on her face.

“That may be so, but it’s only because he wants to keep you safe. He feels he can’t do that when you’re on your own. But you’re a strong, independent girl. You are entitled to live your life as you choose and sweetheart, you are doing amazing. You support yourself no matter what, and I could never be prouder…”

She sits down next to me and takes my hand.

“Sweetheart, you be the best you that you can be. And if Trevor can’t see that- someone else will. Now, let’s not keep your father waiting. Go change and I’ll do your hair and makeup.”

I sigh and stand up, changing in the bathroom before coming out and taking a seat at my mother’s vanity. She begins to brush my hair and then she braids it, tying it up with a bow. I slip on some earrings she holds out to me before she slips on a diamond necklace.

I slip on the heels and she quickly does my makeup when there’s a knock the door. My father pokes his head through the door and smiles when he sees me, coming in before closing the door behind him.

“Much, much better. Now, come along. I have someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

I take his arm reluctantly and escorts my mother and I downstairs to a small group of men, one I recognize awfully well. I quickly grab a champagne flute off of a nearby tray and I down it, making my father a scoff.

“Gentleman, forgive my daughter for her lack of.. decorum- Harry, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, sweetheart, this is-.”

“Harry Styles…”

Harry smiles and holds out his hand to me. I shake it with a blush and a small smile. The older man discuss for a few minutes and I stand there, downing a few more flutes before someone taps my shoulder. Harry.

“Did you maybe want to get some air? It’s getting a bit stuffy in here and it seems like you could use some air as well.”

I smile and nod, following him outside. I take a seat on the deck bench, clutching my half empty flute. Harry takes a seat next to me and doesn’t speak for a minute.

“So…You seem bothered.”

I scoff and shake my head.

“You’ve known me all of ten minutes. How could you possibly know that?”

He sighs and I turn my head to him.

“Because I recognize the look on your face. The same one I’ve had the past few months…”

I frown and place my hand on his shoulder.

“Love sucks.”

He lets out a light laugh and nods.

“A bit…”

I sigh and lean against the wall.

“One minute You’re planning your future and the next your heart is smashed to pieces.”

He leans against the wall and looks at me.

“So why fake happy?”

I sigh and fiddle my fingers.

“My father. He doesn’t exactly make it easy to be human. I have to keep up an image. He’s already angry enough that I don’t live alone- let alone that I work…”

I finish off my champagne flute and I kick of my heels, flinging them into the grass.

“Don’t you have anyone to confide in?”

I side eye him, shaking my head.

“I confide in my pillow. Just as I always do. And what about you? Surely you’ve got people who understand you.”

He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head.

“Technically I guess I do. But not anyone I feel comfortable telling.”

I stay quiet for a minute before I decide to bite the bullet and speak my mind.

“If you ever need anyone… You can call or text me. I’ll be here if you need to talk…”

He widens his eyes and looks at me, his mouth gaping.

“You’d do that? Why?”

I shrug and give him a small smile.

“Sometimes it’s nice to lean on someone. And maybe… I don’t know- maybe we can be that for each other… Friends?”

He smiles and leaps to me, hugging me tight as I laugh.

“Yes! I’d love that! But promise me one thing?”

He pulls away and I look at him as he takes my hand.

“Let’s not fake happy around each other. Deal?”

I like my pinky with his and smile.

“Deal.”

>>>————————————->

This is only part one lovelies! I promise they’ll be together! Please let me know what you thought!

Tag List

@be-with-me-so-happily @swiftmendeshoran @babyiamperfectforyou @freedomfireflies @kaminokatie @harrysmimi @violetsandfluff @fruitmans @fruitmansrecs @harringtons-honey @rafaaoli @kimmi-kat @erggggggggg @cayleyhannha-blog @acesofspadess @that-mcu-fan @styles-barnes-bitch @purple9950 @justmystyles @itslottiehere

[crazyfoolish]

You're So Vain | Obi-Wan Kenobi | Part 1

Summary: Y/N gets rescued by Obi-Wan after months of being tortured by General Grievous.

Prompt: but you gave away the things you loved, and one of them was me.

Warnings: Torture, PTSD, Y/N has suicidal thoughts.

Complete chapter list here.

I once thought I was beyond such a fate. Truly, I did. But despite all my diplomatic efforts, I no longer believed in salvation. Here I was, left to rot in isolation, my cries for help ignored.

How utterly degrading. How long had it been?

Months? Years?

I didn’t know anymore. But one thing was certain—no one was coming for me.

As the Sith tore through my mind, searching for Republic secrets, I was forced to relive every memory of him. The past I longed to forget had become my torment.

33 BBY.

That was when I first encountered the Jedi Order and the Chosen One. I wasn’t the hero of my own story—I was merely a handmaiden to Queen Amidala, a witness to the dark beginnings of the Clone Wars.

When I returned home, my father sent me to Mandalore, where I worked under Queen Satine while continuing my espionage. My father had spread his children across the galaxy as a network of informants, and I had proven myself valuable.

In 35 BBY, while brushing Queen Satine’s hair, we often spoke of the Jedi and their past heroics. Those memories haunted me, especially as the Sith dug through my mind, searching for any mention of Kenobi. General Grievous's laughter echoed as pain shot through me.

“I enjoyed them, when they weren't slaves of the Republic,” Satine sighed.

“Arrogance tends to cloud one's judgment. Even the Jedi.”

“Have you met a Jedi, before?”

I muttered his name, very low.

"Master Kenobi was both brave and kind," Satine remarked. "Your silence on knowing him surprises me."

Guilt washed over me. I should never have let his name slip through. Just the mention of the Jedi had led me to reveal his identity. Yet, Satine's reaction hinted at a deeper curiosity.

"Back on Naboo, I saw him." I lied, crafting an image of elegance rather than arrogance. "He seemed...distinguished, youthful."

"But you spoke of arrogance," she countered with a dry tone. "Share your thoughts, Y/N. You are not in Coruscant."

I hesitated, then thought of him, and an involuntary smile broke through. "Perhaps I was too harsh. Him and his Master, may he find peace in the Force, appeared...vain."

"Vain?" Satine was genuinely taken aback. "The Jedi are humility incarnate. Are they not?"

I realized I had ventured too far. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I misspoke."

"It's quite alright. Your skepticism of the Jedi amuses me," she conceded. "It's fortunate you never talked to them. They have a way of sensing such…sentiments."

The irony wasn't lost on me.

The truth about the siege of Naboo: yes, they sensed it, and Obi-Wan didn’t trust any of the handmaidens.

If Padme did not want me there, then he would probably have sent me away. But I remained there, observing him and his Master. I never could forget him, staring down at Anakin, in deep thought and sadness, surrounding the bomb fire. His bright blue eyes looking golden.

That same night, I found him of the balcony of the palace, looking at the lake, lost in thoughts. I said: “Are you alright?”  He was startled. “Yes,” his voice sounded hoarse. “Just thinking.”

“I’m sorry about Master Qui-gon,” I said, after a few seconds. My throat felt dry. “I saw it.”

Hidden in a corner, I wanted to add, like a coward. He cleared his throat:

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m…”  A pause. “ Sorry to hear that.”

“You know my name?” I thought out loud. Regret it instantly. He turned around.

“What? Of course, I know your name. Aren’t you Queen Amidala’s servant?”

“Yes…”

“You are also Anakin’s friend.”

I remained silent for that part. He said the boy’s name with such…indifference. It seemed almost like he wanted to distance himself from him.

I believe we spoke a bit more, fragments of distance fading away. A shadow of a smile. Laughter, echoing faintly.

“I should say goodnight. And farewell,” I whispered, going inside. Then, a warm hand was in my shoulder, and I felt him hold me tight. The night was suddenly so quiet, and I could not move an inch.

“I know.”

I shivered. He was a Jedi. They did not lie.

Still, it was outrageous to suggest such...

“You think of me as vain and inconsequential, but, deep down, you know those thoughts are hiding something else.”

“Let me go,” I said, finally, out of breath.

“Is that really what you want?” He said, but he was already backing away. I turned around, he was still close. I leaned forward, no thoughts, just instinct, and kissed him.

He was grieving.

It was wrong.

And yet…

That night was the last night I saw him until years later, in Coruscant. I was quite naive back then, and I guess if I knew then what I know now… I would not have done it. That night ruined me and my heart for good.

And years later, being tortured, remembering telling Satine about him while thinking of…

“Interesting,” said General Griveous. “Very interesting.”

No. I forgot I wasn’t alone. I tried to block that memory for months. How could I let it slip now?

"Most intriguing," Grievous mused with a sinister tone.

Panic surged as I realized my lapse. For months, I had guarded that memory, only for it to betray me in a moment of weakness.

And I relived it. Over and over again. 

Until he was tired of it. 

"Remove her," Grievous commanded.

Rough hands hoisted me up, and a sharp pain blinded me momentarily. Thrown onto the cold ground, I gave in to the darkness again, haunted by dreams of torture and those blue eyes.

Another memory. 

At that time, I had transitioned from a handmaiden to a more formidable role as Counselor to Senator Amidala and Mandalore's voice in critical Senate decisions.

My allegiance to both Padmé and Satine never seemed conflicting, given their mutual respect and trust in me. However, Anakin's was skeptic about me.

Time had refined me, and any expectation of Obi-Wan recalling our intimate night was just…useless.

"I don't like this," Anakin's voice pierced through the corridor, his words aimed at Padmé. I trailed behind, feigning preoccupation with my holo-messages, yet their conversation ensnared my attention. Obi-Wan, now beside me, was a presence I found overwhelming to confront directly.

"I trust Y/N, Anakin," Padmé retorted with a whisper of irritation. "And isn't Obi-Wan close to the Queen of Mandalore? I didn't expect you two to be involved in this matter."

"Mandalore's neutrality in the war is precarious. They should choose a side—the right side. Perhaps she's exploiting your trust for information."

“I don't tell the anything she does not already know. She is only a Counselour. Like… a friend. She was there when it all happened, don’t you remember? When we found you. I hold her dearly in my heart.”

"Of course I do." Anakin admitted.

A laugh escaped me, unbidden, drawing Obi-Wan's gaze.

Our eyes locked. His features had matured too; the boyish charm was now cloaked in the guise of a man adorned with longer hair, a beard and broad shoulders.

"Haven't you come far?" He murmured, barely audible.

I did not respond.

_____________________________________________________________

The blaring alarms were the first thing to wake me. 

My eyes fluttered open to a world out of focus. There was a harsh staccato of blaster fire.

Sounds and movements felt distant, as if I were submerged, fighting my way to the surface.

Yet, I felt the steady rhythm of being carried.

The firm grip was unmistakable, but it was the sight of a familiar face that sent a jolt through my body.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Great, I was finally hallucinating.

That wasn’t a memory I recalled. Or was I beginning to forget? I stared at him, trying to figure it out.

His eyes widened:

“She’s awake!”

Were we… running? My body felt like floating. But there was definitely wind, blowing in my hair.

“Go!” another familiar voice.

Anakin.

I looked over his shoulder, Anakin was running after us, blue lightsaber in hand. Red glowing shots flying over us.

I never fought in the Clone Wars before. Of course, I saw them fighting once or twice, while serving Padme. But I tried to not even look at them.

Jedi were heroic figures, but still, so self-centered. So righteous.

Ugh.

“Senator Caelora, stay awake.”

His voice sounded so clear. So real. Yet, I could not trust my ears. He laid me down behind something big.

“We’ll be right back.”

I forced myself to look up.

The dance of their lightsabers, Obi-Wan and Anakin Skywalker, slicing through the air against the Separatists, seemed almost surreal. Their movements blurred in and out of focus.

Then, as they fought, I felt that familiar sensation of sleepiness take hold, once again, and let it drag me.

When clarity finally broke through, I was met with the serene quiet of a ship's interior. The tranquility was disorienting. The cool, sterile air of the ship felt alien to me. I brought my hands to feel my face.

Harsh.

Hurt.

“Fuck.” I muttered, spotting blood in my fingers. Was I going to die? Finally.

His voice, soft and steady, pierced the veil of my fear. "You're safe now," he assured me.

I looked at him. What a strange dream. So surreal.

Yes, I was losing my mind.

“I don’t remember this,” I murmured. “Any of this. Are they toying with my mind now?” I pondered.

His eyes inspected me.

"This isn't a dream, nor a hallucination. You're here with us, Y/N, far from harm.”

“Are you saying that… you are real? And he is real?” I pointed to Anakin, driving the ship. Beside him, a blue and silver droid was talking binary.

“Yes.” His simple answer hit me like a punch. The ship's hum, the Jedi, and the droid's chatter—all came together into one clear truth: I was no longer in that cell; I was free.

"I... I can't believe I'm actually out," I whispered.

Obi-Wan moved slightly. He was always so calm. Even in my dreams. "It's a lot to take in after what you've been through," he acknowledged.

I glanced at Anakin again, seeking a semblance of the boy I once knew. "How did you find me?”

Obi-Wan's response was thoughtful, measured. "We received intelligence about your location."

I felt a swell of gratitude mixed with a pang of guilt; they had risked their lives for one person. "Thank you," I managed.

Obi-Wan offered a small, reassuring smile. "Rest. We’ll be on Naboo soon.”

"Naboo?" The name echoed strangely in my ears, unexpected and jarring. "Not Coruscant? Shouldn't I report to the Senate about what happened?"

Anakin chimed in without turning from the vast canvas of stars before us. "Padmé is waiting for us there. She's been worried sick about you," he said.

"But my duty to the Senate—" I started, only to be cut off by Obi-Wan's more forceful tone.

"What? Of course not. You've been through an ordeal. Rest is what you need now, not Senate debriefings."

His eyes met mine and the Jedi Master sighed.

"Just try to get some sleep," came the gentle suggestion.

For a moment, I just absorbed the words.

A smile, the first genuine one in what felt like an eternity, tugged painfully at the corners of my mouth.

"I've been sleeping all this time," I replied. "Please, don't make me."

The silence stretched between us. Then, he nodded, a slow, deliberate motion.

I laid on the improvised bed they made and stared at the window in the ceiling. 

I never thought anyone was coming for me.

Months waiting, wishing to die. Or maybe I was there for less time than I expected. Maybe I had lost sense of the days.

Perhaps it was best not to know.

But after what felt like hours, curiosity took over me. "Master Kenobi," I called out. It bared a strange taste.

Sour.

"Yes?" 

"How long has it been since I was captured?"

Silence followed. I could almost sense him weighing his word.

"Ten months and two weeks," he finally said.

My heart was pounding in my chest.

“And, how long have the Republic been trying to rescue me?”

"We've been attempting to locate you since we first learned of your capture. The exact intelligence about your whereabouts, however, only reached us recently."

Grievous knew what he was doing by capturing me. He knew Obi-Wan would come, somehow. And all of this time, they were already planning to rescue me?

It did not sound right.

“I must tell you…” I got up, my eyes focusing on his figure. He was sited not too far, one leg crossed over the other, his right hand on his beard. I realized he was observing me all this time.

“All this time...G-General Grievous searched my mind. And this Sith, using the Force, was looking for memories about….” I paused. “You. It looks like they're planning something, something against you, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan took in what I said with a serious look. "General Grievous is smart, we know that," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "But using a Sith to get into your mind, just to find information about me, that's something else. Do you remember his name?"

Then, for just a second, he looked away, like he was remembering something from a long time ago that he didn't want to think about. It made the moment feel a bit awkward.

I closed my eyes, trying to think.

“Darth.” Air came out of my lungs. “Darth… something. I don’t remember. ”

"We need to be really careful. What you went through, as tough as it was, it's given us a clue. They've accidentally given us a hint about what they're up to.”

"But Master Kenobi, they hate you. If they've targeted me to get to you, they won't hesitate to go after others. They're desperate for anything that can be used against you.”

“Don’t worry, Senator.” He opened a sarcastic smile. "Dealing with Sith is something of a specialty of mine. And as for Grievous, we've crossed paths more times than I care to count. His desire for revenge is hardly a revelation.”

“Just beware that they know about everything I know about you.” I tried to warn him without alarming Anakin. Jedi weren’t supposed to break their code. And Obi-Wan did, in the past. As a young, grieving, confused padawan. Still, he did. And now the enemy knew it as well.

His smile faltered.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat subtly, shifting in his seat.

"I appreciate your concern." His voice regained its steady tone. "But rest assured, the past... well, it's just that. The past." There was a dismissive wave of his hand.

This son of a bitch.

Well, if he wasn’t concerned, I would not dwell on this matter any further.

I nodded, turned and pretended to sleep.

____________________________________________________________

In the small space of the ship, their voices carried back to where I lay. I wasn’t trying to listen, but I couldn’t help catching bits of their conversation.

"What was she talking about? Does she know something about you?" Anakin seemed very curious.

Obi-Wan's response was measured. "It's nothing. "

"C'mon Obi-Wan. I can tell when you are lying."

"It's just something I did when I was a padawan. I'm not proud of it."

"Is it that bad?"

There was a brief pause before Obi-Wan replied.

 "I guess it's not something you wouldn't do."

"Then it must be really bad."

Their laughter followed. But I could not smile.

He was not proud of that memory.

I wasn’t either.

But the way he casually brushed it off with Anakin left me feeling strangely alone in my thoughts. After months of reliving that night, it was odd to realize that the memories I’d held onto so tightly were just footnotes in his.

At least I was going home, I thought, and they would return to Coruscant and I would never have to feel this rage again.