#it's such a lame fic but uh
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pretty sure your snare trap has math for cheese
you'd think so. i thought so, too--but no one talks to me about the actual math from my fanfic (me getting hurt feelings from everyone fixating on 'bruce wayne batman dating' rather than chasing the 'data regression' -> 'fast fourier transform' -> 'dick grayson is a former mathlete about to read korvin to filth', but i fucking did it to myself and know it)
actual math/stem people more knowledgeable than me take one look and go "lmao poser" and ignore it
laymen read my fic and don't care beyond the spectacle
i think the math acts like a filter. you either vibe w my processes (which cannot be separated from how i write) or you [x] immediately
#inquiry#Anonymous#opinionated verm#there is something else that is the lure#a certain menthol illinois if you will#dude idk sometimes i wanna joke and advertise 'get some fucking science here'#but i also know a lot of fics over the decade that touted that kind of . uh. and they didn't vibe with me#don't agree with their portrayal of stem-related things + research + 'intelligence' and 'capability'#so many fics i've read wanting more 'realism' of certain mechanics or whatever#i pass away as soon as i see how they handle the subject matter. i see it enough day-to-day. i do not need the same attitude in fic#idk my goal isn't to blind someone with math and science it's just how my square-shaped brain thinks#and i wanna demystify + also allow people to give the subject respect. a measured treatment in a candid manner#so i think if i ever advertised myself as a math/science-focused writer i'll become the enemy#that's when you guys put me down like a lame horse. promise okay?#but at the same time i cannot lie to myself and divorce the thinking patterns i'm used to from my field#bc despite not studying lit + last lit class ever i slept through four months...#my current work requires me to put stories together. subject matter is technical and non-fiction.#(i'll also say... the bruce wayne sugar baby punchline will not end how most of you probably think it will. based on heuristics)#(but that's not bad. it just means i'll continue to make y'all spittake)
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hmm.
reader need 2 “anonymously” send this 2 ellie wha the fuk~
CRYBABY! - (E.W) MASTERLIST, COMPLETED!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ edit
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seattle revival
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you’ve had a seriously bad day, and now you’re stuck with the shittiest person you’ve ever met while you wait for your friends to get home. (fluff) pt1
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once again, you’re left alone with the crude (turned kind?) ellie fucking williams. (smut) pt2
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ she’s the same ellie she’s always been. (angst) pt3
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the paparazzi are everywhere, all snapping shots of you as you rush into the band’s car. (angst) pt4
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ who the fuck is abby? (angst) pt5
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you’ve had enough at this point. (angst) (fluff) (hurt) pt6
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ forget how to feel. (angst) (smut) (hurt) pt7
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you weren’t you anymore. (angst) (fluff) (ending) pt8
#ain’t shi funny#that druski audio ‘im not laughing’#dina n’ jesse r TERRIBLE frens ion care#know full n’ well girl is a d!ckhead n’ still kicking it wit her like shi is sweet#like u mean 2 tell me u managed 2 stop hanging with around the both of them cuz of the constant bickering fighting#buh not enough 2 fkn stand on business n’ rightfully check her 4 making YOUR FREN life a living nightmare??#so fkn lame#whatevr tf ellie got goin on doesn’t absolve her from being an asshole!!#modern!ellie williams#ellie williams fic#ye i did think wha abby said was harsh—like choice of words#cuz reader need a reality check#should���ve said whatevr is keeping them there OBVIOUSLY ain’t worth it#u made urself 2 stay around these ppl#4 wha??#2 prove 2 those fkn LEWSORS that you’re not a ‘crybaby’??!#n usually i b so happy when reader#y/n bops a bch in their face buh this..a restraining order @ this point tf#NASTY work 2 witness such bundles of kindness turn into dumps of garbage#writing was good tho ofc cuz that’s exactly I kept reading😙#like uh uh i couldn’t b reader fren n’ watch them literally turn into ellie n’ not make ellie’s life hell#gumb○ll machine
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JUNO - Bucky Barnes
Authors Note: Gah, here we go again with the bucky fics since he looked so damn good in that trailer! Enjoy!
Word Count: 4215
Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT.....and more smut.
Requests: OPEN
Main Masterlist ~ ~ Halloween 2024 Event
[Thank you for the gif @ayo-edebiri ]
Enjoy!
“Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing
Oh yeah, you just get it
Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit
God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh”
-
You were a terrible terrible person, this was a fact. It would be put on whatever wikipedia page they made for villains as soon as people figured it out, which considering the rage building in your body would be any moment now. Why were you a terrible person? That’s easy to explain.
There was a time where everyone avoided your boyfriend like the plague, when the Winter Soldier cliche had been stuck to his image like a nail in a tire and everyone treated him like crap. And who stayed by his side? You. Not that it was ever about keeping score because you just wanted what was best for him. But now that people are all about kissing his ass since he had some new found fame? You wished things would go back to the way they were. And that made you a terrible person.
Who would want things to go back when your love was treated terribly?
But then you see girls like Montana clinging to his side and that little green monster in the pit of your stomach begins growing and growing until it leads to moments like now, with you standing at the bar clutching your glass like it was the only thing tethering you to this earth.
Yet another gala was being thrown, this time it was ‘Rockstars for Schooling Funds’ and Bucky was required to attend for PR. And attend your man did. The jacket, the tie, the pushed back hair and the hot ass glare.
From the second you saw him ready for tonight you were ready to pull him into the bedroom and never leave, your skin grew hot just remembering the feeling of his hands roaming your body as you tried to lead him into the bedroom. He obviously didn’t fall for it and now you were here watching Montana hold onto his arm as she laughed at something he said.
As if sensing your glare he turns to catch your eye, and you know that he was surveying your safety by the sharp look in his eyes and all you can think was ‘God bless your dads genetics’. But you refuse to break for him, so you shrug and turn back to the bar ready to order yourself another drink.
Best thing about wearing a dress like the one you were wearing tonight? Attention. Within seconds the men at the bar were clamoring to buy you a drink, crooked smiles and lame pick up lines. The prized contender? The southern man with kind eyes wearing his very own black cowboy hat.
This could be fun.
“What’ll it be?” He drawls and you have to fight off the blush filling your cheeks just at the sound of it.
“Hmm, I haven't decided yet.” You flirt, batting your lashes for a second. “Think you can help a girl out?”
“There’s the ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’.” He reads off the little menu, looking up to you from under his hat, giving a smooth wink and you huff out a small laugh.
“Would it be worth my time?”
“It’s the best on the menu from what I can see.” As if on cue you both look out to the crowd around you at the gala, with loud music and cheesy rockstar costumes, and whilst he is trying to make a point your eyes roam for a familiar head of hair. But the group that Bucky had been sitting with for the past 30 minutes was now short a member, your man. “Who would want to waste time with any of these cruds when you could have a real drink sugar?”
But the words were lost on you as your eyes traced over the room in a hurried panic. Where did he go?
But then your nose fills with a familiar woodsy scent as a familiar arm wraps around your waist in a tight grip that has the cowboy standing straight up in his own panic.
“Yeah Doll, how bout a real drink?”
-
“You make me wanna make you fall in love
Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah
Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?
Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up”
-
That little green monster building in your stomach? Now she had a fire pal burning straight through your skin at the image of the icy glare Bucky managed to send in the cowboys direction, the fingers on your waist tightening and digging into your skin.
“I was just talking to my friend here about drinks.” You hum out, watching his jaw tighten as he continues to glare. “What do you know about drinks?”
The cowboy, who you now knew to be a foolish man since he still stood in that spot, lets out a smooth chuckle. “Considering he’s holding an old fashioned I would say not much, Sugar.”
“Really? I always thought that the old fashioned ways worked in seduction. At least they did for me.” Bucky all but growls out, pulling you closer to him. “Now how bout we ask the gal. Do my old fashioned ways work?”
As if to prove his point he presses his thigh between your legs just a notch and squeezed at your waist, you were lost.
“No words? Hmm? Interesting.” He smiles, “Think you need a break from the crowd?”
He doesn’t waste time waiting for an answer, rather he keeps his grip on your waist as he leads you through the large gala, keeping the glare on his features that has people backing away to avoid his anger. You however basked in it, and as he lead you into the bathroom with the slam of the door and an easy movement to lock the door.
You got right to work, hopping onto the counter and wiggling a bit as he turns back to you.
You look up at him through you lashes, kicking one foot out a bit to expose your leg to him. “I mean not that I don’t love this vibe, we didn’t pack the handcuffs baby.”
“Oh so the pretty girl thinks she’s funny.” He chuckles, stepping forward and moving his hands to the top of your thighs to squeeze before pulling you forward harshly. “In case you haven’t realized it, this is the moment where you start giving me reasons to give you what you so badly want.”
Words failed you as his palms roamed your skin, rubbing soft circles to begin pushing up your dress.
“Oh, I’m the one in trouble here?” You huff, leaning back as he pushed his way in between your thighs. “Funny, here I was thinking of granting you mercy.”
“Oh that’s how we are playing it, huh?” And just like that he is pressing the pad of his flesh thumb right onto your core, pulling a sharp gasp from you as you tried to close your legs out of instinct only for him to press you down with his metal hand. “You were saying, sugar?”
“Oh…” You moan, back arching as he circles his thumb with a smug smile, leaning into you to pull your lips into a fervent kiss. It draws your breath until your gasping into him for air, your hands woven into his hair to keep him there and save you all in the same go while he teases at pulling your panties down only to pull back in a matter of seconds leaving you there to try and catch your breath.
Seconds away from achieving your high only to be left stranded leaves you whining and leaning forward to get him back into your arms.
He tsks at you, pushing you back gently as you continue whining.
“What will you give me?”
“Anything.” You gasp out, kissing at the wrist of the hand holding you back, nipping at the flesh of it as you reach for him metal arm to pull you back in. He gives in a little, allowing you to press your hips into his so release some of the pressure. “Please baby.”
“Then how about you behave for the last hour, and we’ll go home and get you sorted. Yeah?”
“Fine,” You snip out, tracing your hand up his metal arm before making it to his collarbone and pressing your hips further into his. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
-
“I know you want my touch for life
If you love me right, then who knows?
I might let you make me Juno
You know I just might”
-
And you feel like a fool for making that promise as he leads you through the crowd once more, this time with a pressure begging to be released in your lower belly as he keeps his metal hand on your lower back. The chill of the metal while your body is ablaze has you reeling, reaching a hand back to keep a hold on him.
You think of all the things he can do to you as he talks with the Galas president, digging your nails into the sleeve of his tux as you push your thighs together a bit, leaning your nose into him to inhale his scent as he talks with a bold presence.
When that Montana girl comes back you learn that she is an assistant for the program and that little green monster leads you to nip at his ear in front of her before kissing at his neck to leave a lipstick mark.
He looks at you for a moment, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips before turning to talk to her some more but it’s too late, you’re already in a haze. The green monster and the red flame have mixed to make their very own monster.
So you pull him in by his tie, pressing your lips to his ear and whispering the words you knew would break him. “Gimme me a baby.”
-
“Let you lock me down tonight
One of me is cute, but two though?
Give it to me, baby
You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh)”
-
It was the one secret weapon you’ve never used, but have always known about.
Back in the beginning of the relationship while you were learning the ins and outs of eachother you noticed how much he loved the pill since it hadn’t been too popular back in his day. He loved the freedom it gave him to mark you as his, but you also noticed the lingering gaze on your stomach and or the intent look he gave when you took the pill.
But you had never been ready for a kid, you wanted to save that for that someone special who you could raise them with. But you knew that Bucky was it, you knew that he was your touch for life. Why not give in?
And the thrill of giving in the second his eyes meet yours makes it worth it, seeing the heat as he pulls you in so tight you might as well be one person.
“Come on baby, one of me is cute but two though?” You whisper, leaning up to bite at his lip before his hands come up to pull you into a feral kiss as he begins to lead you out the doors.
-
“I showed my friends, then we high-fived (Ah-ah)
Sorry if you feel objеctified (Ah-ah)
Can't help myself, hormonеs are high
Give me more than just some butterflies”
-
“Easy there.” He grunts out the second you press him into the seats of the limo, straddling him with ease as your nails rake down his chest to begin tracing the buttons of his shirt. “I might feel objectified.”
“I don’t give a shit,” You gasp, ripping his shirt open before attacking his chest with kisses. You take to kissing his chest, dragging your lips from spot to spot in order to mark him as much as you can as he pulls you down to move his hips into your with a groan.
Your eyes flutter closed at the heat that crosses through your body at the sound, whining out a bit as he begins to grind into you, pulling you up from his chest with a swift pull to lock your lips together as the limo makes a turn.
The kiss was feral, teeth gnashing, thigh clenching kiss that has you gripping his shoulders and pushing your hips into his a little quicker. Biting down onto his lip when he stills your hips with his hands before pulling back.
“You gonna let me lock you down?” He whispers, rubbing your hip as he moves you with ease until your legs are splayed over his lap and he can reach between them to pull more moans from you. “Gonna let me keep you forever?”
“Yes….” You whine out the second he begins rubbing at your core once more, this time with the metal hand. The chill of the metal over the fabric is driving you crazy and you press your hips up for more pressure and as a sign you want the panties off.
He is quick to oblige, pulling his hand to the waistband of them and ripping them off in one easy movement before pushing his fingers back to ease one into your center. “I’ll give you anything you want. But you already knew that when you said I could give you a baby. Didn’t you?”
And just like that he pushes two more fingers in, curling them in a fluid motion as his lips press into the pressure point of your throat. He works his fingers in a fast paced motion as you close your eyes and give into the feeling, letting him suck and bite at your neck as much as he wanted to.
And once you reach your high he merely speeds up his movements until your shaking in his lap.
“Atta girl.” He grunts, pulling his fingers up to suck on while you blink at him, still shaking from that orgasm.
“I love you.” You murmur to him, leaning on for a gentle kiss. He laughs into it, rubbing at the back of your neck in a sweet gesture before putting your torn panties in his pocket and looking to see how close you are to home.
-
“You make me wanna make you fall in love
Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah
Wanna try out some freaky positions?
Have you ever tried this one?”
-
The calm ease he had built up for the rest of the limo ride was quick to vanish the second the limo pulled up to the curb, pushing the door open and pulling you out so quickly your legs swing until he pulls you up so you can wrap them around his waist. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” You giggle, letting him carry you inside until the front door closes and he can set you down to lock it. Even in the mix of all this he can never slack on your safety, and you were sure that once he spent all your energy he would come down here for one last safety check.
You let him do what he needed to do, walking to the kitchen with a fleeting look to him before grabbing a glass of water to sip on while you waited, legs still a little shaky. But you don’t have much time since he comes around the corner into the kitchen, leaning on the fridge with a small smile as he watches you every movement.
“Everything locked up and safe?” You ask, moving one step closer to him.
“Yes.” He responds, the deep voice causing a shiver to move down your spine as he takes a step similar to yours without taking his eyes off you.
“I think it’s so hot you know.” One of his eyebrows raise at your words, the small smile turning into a smirk. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone in this world as protective as you.”
He merely hums back, taking another step closer as his eyes roam over your body. “Yeah?”
“Mmhmm. And I was thinking that you deserved an award.”
“I do?” You almost laugh at how innocent the question comes out, but you don’t have time since your already turning to press yourself into the counter, pushing your hips out and pulling your dress up to expose yourself to him as he audibly growls. “Have we every tried this before?”
-
“I know you want my touch for life
If you love me right, then who knows?
I might let you make me Juno
You know I just might”
-
His hands are upon you in an instant, rubbing at your hips as his body presses into yours to kiss at the back of your neck, and you realize that he is still wearing his undershirt and pants. The metal of the belt buckle digs into your back as you reach back to undo his belt.
You hear him undo it and get ready, pressing your forehead into the tile of the counter as he grabs your hands and begins wrapping your hands together with the leather belt. And you should be embarrassed at the moan that fills the air once you realize what he is doing before he undoes his pants and you feel him press at your center.
He’s quick to press in, and you both your moans fill the air as he presses his forehead into the exposed skin of your back before beginning to rut himself up into you. With every aggressive push of his hips into yours the doors of the cabinet on the counter shake, the cold tile of the counter hitting your hip over and over and over as he claims you for his own.
With one hand holding the belt that is biting into the flesh of your wrists and the other holding the counter to keep you both stable he stands straight and lets free. Every harsh threat is followed by his grunts and your moans, the sound of skin slapping filling the room before the hand from the counter comes to hold your hair.
It’s feral, and hot. And the feeling of his flesh hand pulling at your hair has you tightening around him enough that he can’t fight his own moan.
And the second you hear it you are coming undone around him, shaking harshly as he keeps you held up before you collapse, continuing his thrusts until you reach the peak of the high once more and spasm around him.
Once you come down, panting heavily and keeping your forehead pressed into the cold tile, he works on undoing his belt to release you as he pulls himself out of you and pulls his pants up.
You are quick to turn on him, tears in your eyes partly due to the intense orgasm and the fact that you still haven’t gotten what you wanted. “Baby please….”
“Easy doll.” He whispers, pulling you into his arms to wrap himself around you, picking you up easily. “You’ll get it. Don’t you fret.”
-
“Let you lock me down tonight
One of me is cute, but two though?
Give it to me, baby
You make me wanna make you fall in love”
-
He carries you into the bedroom bridal style, setting you down at the foot of the bed before leaning down to grab the end of your dress and pull it over your head, kissing his way up your body so slowly you feel like you might just die. By the time the fabric is over your head he throws it to the side, his gaze meeting yours in a tense blaze.
You knew within an instant that he had gotten serious, and as you kept your gaze on his he let your hands roam until you begin pulling his undershirt off before you reach to undo his waistband. “What’s that look for?”
“Did you know….” He keeps his voice to a whisper as he kicks off his shoes and shucks off his pants, pulling off his socks and throwing everything to the side before moving his hands to either side of your cheeks. “That it’s not actually proven that the amount of orgasms a women has is connected to their ability to conceive.”
“Yeah?” You smile, waiting for him to get to the point
“I did a lot of research.” He says proudly, “So though the amount of orgasms I give you don’t end up mattering in the end…..they sure are fun.”
And you can’t fight the loud laugh that escapes when he gently tackles you onto the bed, making it bounce a bit as he pushes your thighs open with his hands and pressing them into you by the backs of them.
“You ready doll?”
“Always for you sergeant.”
-
“Adore me
Hold me and explore me
Mark your territory (Ah-ah)
Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)”
-
He keeps the eye contact, soft and open, as he slides himself between your folds to use your past orgasms as his lubricant before pressing into your center and moaning a bit as he pushes himself in. Whereas the romp downstairs had been feral and fast this one started slow, allowing him to kiss at your face as you adjusted to his size this time.
His weight presses you into the bed, and your hands find purchase at his back so he can pull himself back before pushing his hips back into yours. Slow and precise, every pull he left a kiss and every push has just enough friction on your core that has you arching your back.
It had been years of him learning your body and by this point he knew how to play it like the back of his hand. It was his and he liked keeping what's his cared for. When you arched a little more he knew he should speed up, and when you closed your eyes he reached a hand down to grip at the fat of your ass, fingers digging in as he readjusted you both for more pleasure.
And once you came around him, spasming and moaning loudly, all bets were off.
-
“Adore me
Hold me and explore me (Ah-ah)
I'm so fuckin' horny
Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”
-
His entire weight comes down, crushing you beneath him not that your complaining. Between the warmth of his skin and the mix of your sweat with his you both have traction to move as his thrusts turn wild.
Over and over at a speed he hadn’t reached with you before, his eyes are clenched shut as he ruts into you, overstimulating you as you begin to sob from the pleasure. Your entire body shakes with every intense hump.
Between his thrusts you meet your peak once more, screaming out as his own thrusts become erratic and harsher.
By the time he finishes he leans down to your ear so you can hear the heavy moan that escapes him as he fills you to the brim, shaking and pinching you with his metal arm. And his release seems never ending as he continues to thrust, until you are both completely spent and collapse into the cool sheets.
-
“(Oh, I) I know you want my touch for life
If you love me right, then who knows?
I might let you make me Juno
You know I just might (Might)”
-
You had managed to fall asleep and only woke up at the realization that he wasn’t near you, vision blurry as you looked around. He had cleaned you up and tucked you in with a glass of water on the nightstand, but his side of the bed was empty.
So you sit up, ready to go check on him, until you realize how sore you were and stay on the bed to listen for him. You hear the sound of him shuffling around downstairs to check all the locks before he begins climbing up the stairs.
You know he makes the noise for you, otherwise he would be as stealthy as an assassin.
By the time he enters the doorway there is a small smile playing at his lips while you open your arms and pull him in to lay with you.
“Goodnight.” You whisper.
“Goodnight, Doll.”
-
“Let you lock me down tonight
One of me is cute, but two though?
Give it to me, baby
You make me wanna make you fall in love”
-
The waiting was the most dreadful feeling.
Sitting on the edge of the bathtub with the test sitting on the counter between where you sat and where your husband sat in the hallway with the back of his head laid against the door.
It was silent but not in a malicious way, more of a calming way as his metal hand whirred before the alarm on your phone goes off and you both shoot up to look.
“Is it…”
“I….”
And you both lean to look at the same time to see just how well those new positions took.
-
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel smut#marvel fluff#marvel angst#winter soldier
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hey girly may i please request rafe and bitchy!kook!reader who see each other at a party after a breakup, and they can’t help but sneak off together? some arguing and hot make up sex pleaseeee. thank you!
warnings: ex!bf!rafe, exes to lovers, slight angst, arguing, cussing, mentions of anger issues, descriptions of violence, rekindling, a little bit of jealous!rafe, oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, just a little bit of fluff
a/n: i kinda went off the request here and made them go home instead of really ‘sneaking away’ i hope that’s okay! i was heavily inspired by the song ‘best mistake’ by ariana grande <3 beware! this fic is a little long..
no contact. rafe wanted to smash his phone when you texted him that fateful night a little over two weeks ago, saying you were never going to talk to him again unless he apologized for getting angry and acting out of line. while he truly was sorry for yelling at you and breaking everything in his sight, he had too much pride to admit he was wrong. and it was because of that pride that you decided to dump his ass and ignore the hundreds of calls and texts he sent your way.
despite having to block his phone number, you couldn’t help but look at all the pictures and videos of you two, sad because you missed him, but pissed because he couldn’t just get his shit together and make things right. eventually, with a lot of convincing and even a little bit of bribing with a new purse, your besties had managed to get you up and into your hottest outfit yet before they took you to a party where they refused to tell you who was hosting.
after you basically obliterated rafe’s ego by not only ignoring him, but blocking him too, he told himself he wouldn’t be fazed if he saw you turn up at the end of summer party that topper threw every year. however, all thoughts of being nonchalant and giving you the same treatment back flew out the door when he saw you walk in with your friends, your mini dress hugging your thighs in a way that made his jaw tick. he would’ve had no problem with your outfit if you two were together.. but you weren’t.
which for rafe, that only meant he would be spending the night smashing faces in if he saw anyone looking at you. he kept his eyes on you the whole time, taking swigs from his beer until finally he ran out and was forced to go inside the kitchen. “hey, y/n.” you looked up. jeremy, a frequent visitor at the country club had approached you. he was sweet and very easy on the eyes. maybe a little too easy, he had a baby face and was a little too much of a pretty boy in your opinion.
“oh, hey ‘jer.” you smiled, calling him by a nickname you heard your friends say a while back. “you look great..” he complimented you. noticing your dress had ridden up, you pulled the hem down before thanking him. “that’s nice of you to say, thank you.” you laughed awkwardly as he seemingly stepped closer. “hey, uh, i heard you and rafe broke up, is that true?” at the mention of your now ex-boyfriend, you blinked. “i.. yeah. but i’m not looking for anything right now.” you shook your head.
“neither am i.” your eyes widened slightly as you felt his hand graze yours. wanting to change the subject, you backed away slightly before clearing your throat. “so what are you drinking?” noticing your discomfort, jeremy flashed you an apologetic look. “this? oh i just got water-” before he could say anything else, you gasped when he almost lost his footing, having been nudged super hard by none other than rafe himself. “woah, you gotta watch out there, man.” rafe winked at you before walking off, the man in front of you cursing under his breath.
“that was a lame move.” he scoffed. you looked past jeremy and at rafe who had his face turned. “i’m sorry, can you give me a sec?” you didn’t wait for him to reply before you followed rafe outside. as if he recognized the clack of your heels behind him, he spun around, making you stop as you two glared at each other. while his gaze slightly softened, you could still make out the roughness in his expression. “you did that on purpose.” apart of you was glad he did, since it gave you an excuse to get out of conversation with jeremy. then again, that was rafe’s intention.
“what are you talking about?” just then, a girl in a bikini walked by, rafe shamelessly eyeing her backside before giving you his attention once more. oh, okay. you smiled at him, arching a brow as he blatantly acted clueless. “you know what? i have someone waiting for me inside. ‘just wasting my time out here.” you whispered the last part, scoffing as you attempted to walk away. rafe dragged you to the side of the house, your hands coming up to shove at his chest.
“who’s waiting for you inside, ‘jer?’” rafe mocked jeremy’s nickname. “yeah, actually. why don’t you go and get the girl who’s ass you just stared at?” you shoved him again, this time making rafe take hold of both of your wrists as he backed you up against wall. “i was fucking with you,” he scoffed, “you’re the one that wants to go back inside to a guy who drinks water at a fucking party!” he laughed incredulously, like he couldn’t believe you would give that guy the time of day.
you swatted his hands away from your own. “i’m not doing this here. you’re acting like you aren’t the one who owes me an apology.” rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. “y/n..” you shook your head, feeling defeated as he stared down at you. “just leave me alone, rafe.” just as you were going to walk away, he spoke up. “then let’s not do this here! let’s have a serious conversation, i mean it.” you shifted, glancing up at him briefly. “and go where?” you arched a brow.
deep down, you knew where this was heading but you so badly wanted to hear what he had to say. rafe got close, resting his hand on the small of your back. “tanneyhill. the house is empty for the next couple of days, so if you want to yell, fight and scream, be my guest.” you sighed as if you didn’t want to go, walking past him and to his truck where he opened the door for you. your friends were definitely going to give you an earful after this.
the drive to rafe’s place was quiet and a little awkward everytime you had to pry his hand off of your thigh, his excuse being that it was just a habit. rafe knew when you broke up with him, for the thousandth time, that it wouldn’t be too long before he saw your catty self walking up the stairs to his bedroom. “i would like to be home by a certain time so get to talking.” you sat down on the edge of his bed, clasping your ring clad fingers together.
rafe shut the door, leaning on the hardwood as he took in your outfit. there’s no way you showed up at that party tonight with the intention of going home alone when you looked this sexy. strappy heels, a black lace dress that that showed a bra and thong underneath, your hair and makeup done so perfectly, he itched to ruin all of it. “you look stunning.” he crossed his arms over his chest, catching the way you swung one leg over the other.
“we’re not here for that.” you leaned back, resting on your hands as rafe nodded. “fair enough..” he started, “look, i’m really sorry. it was wrong of me to take my anger out on you and have no regard for your feelings when i was in the spur of the moment. i should’ve never yelled in your face when you were only trying to make me feel better, i should’ve never broke your things when you told me to leave, from the bottom of my heart, y/n, i’m sorry.” he kneeled down to your level, a silent act of submission. you stared at him.
rafe had a pleading look in his eyes. “i can see you’re sorry,” you barely reached for his jaw, stroking the side of his face softly before you withdrew, “but what are you going to do to fix it?” rafe had missed your touch so much, he swallowed thickly when your warmth disappeared. “would you believe me if i said i was giving anger management classes a try?” you narrowed your eyes at him. “no. do you have a confirmation email or something?” rafe laughed, knowing you wouldn’t be easy to convince.
handing over his phone without any hesitation, you typed in his pin, your birthday, before going to his mail and checking for yourself. sure enough, he had confirmation for not only one class, but an entire course that would take him approximately three months to complete. “please come back to me, baby. i need you.” rafe hesitantly placed his hands on either sides of your hips, your eyes softening as you gazed up at the man in front of you. god, you missed him so much, these past couple of weeks had been the worst.
“i need you, too.” you whispered, both of you leaning in at the same time before your lips melted against one another. cupping rafe’s face, you brought him up from the floor, your back relaxing against his sheets as he hovered above you. rafe had been dying to feel your hands on him, craving your touch like never before. with your dress rolling up your thighs, rafe looked down at the supple flesh there, wanting nothing more than to bury his face in your cunt.
“i was so mad when i saw you walk in looking like this.” you took your bottom lip between your teeth, propping yourself up on your elbows as rafe’s fingers hooked through the soft material of your thong. you watched as he slid the undergarment down your legs, your head falling back as he pinned your thighs to the tops of his shoulders. “rafe-” you reached down, your fingernails running across his skin. he hummed, cupping your soaked pussy as a gasp fell from your lips.
“use your words.” he traced your glossy folds, cursing to himself at the sight. “my heels— they’re still on.” you blinked hazily when you felt his thumb tease your sensitive bundle of nerves. “yeah? they’re gonna stay on.” you moaned when his tongue finally made contact with your clit, your back arching off the bed as he splayed a hand across your tummy. letting out a cry, rafe ate you like man starved, which in a way he was. two weeks was too long, and he was going to unleash all his pent up frustration on you in a way that would have you writhing in pleasure.
rafe knew your body like it was the back of his hand, and he didn’t hesitate to use that to his full advantage. while still lapping at your clit, you fought the urge to shut your thighs around his head when two of his fingers prodded at your entrance. he groaned when he thrusted them into you, your pretty sounds serving as music to his ears. the coil in your stomach only grew tighter until rafe had your thighs trembling, your first orgasm of the night making all the air leave your lungs.
you cried out, rafe appreciating the way your hips stuttered in a poor attempt to chase his tongue. you blinked up at the ceiling when you came down from your high, rafe wasting no time in flipping you over and grinding his erection into your backside. with one hand, rafe gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail and with the other, he grabbed a pillow, placing it under your hips so he could shamelessly rut against you. leaning down, he kissed you sloppily, both of you moaning as you tasted yourself on his tongue.
taking himself out of his jeans, he wrapped a veiny hand around your throat, thrusting into you without warning. “oh my- fuck!” you squeaked out, your walls fluttering around his cock. rafe shut his eyes, his mouth ghosting over yours as he fucked into you hard and slow. “did you miss this?” rafe went deeper with each thrust, balling up your dress to pull you against him. “yes. yes, i missed this so much!” you whimpered, meaning every word. rafe never wanted to be apart from you ever again.
the discomfort from having your heels on was slowly but surely melting away as rafe replaced that feeling with pure bliss, your walls stetching deliciously around his length. for two weeks, the only thing you could imagine feeling was the warmth of rafe’s body against your own, your heart blooming in your chest at finally having that back. “fuck, i need to see your pretty face..” he rolled you over, slotting himself between your thighs before picking up his pace.
you gazed up at him, already looking fucked out as he groped your tits through your dress. “all this breaking and making up, i don’t wanna do it anymore, baby,” rafe tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before stroking your chin, “m’gonna go crazy if you leave me like that again.” you nodded at his words, your eyebrows drawing together in pleasure. “promise. i promise i won’t do that anymore.” you started moving your hips, meeting his thrusts as he groaned, leaning down to bury his face in the curve of your neck.
wrapping your legs around his waist, you didn’t leave him any room to pull away, his toned stomach slapping against your clit as you two rolled your hips in desperation to feel the other finish. “ah, fuck,” your nails clawed against his skin when you felt his teeth nip at the sensitive spot of your neck. with the way you were moaning rafe’s name in his ear, and your pussy swallowing him whole, it wasn’t long before you two started shuddering as the waves of euphoria washed over you both.
he never failed to make your head pound with your orgasm, quite literally stealing your breath away as you made him lose all train of thought, his ability to hold himself up nearly impossible with your greedy cunt milking him for all he had. “shit.” rafe breathed out, pressing a kiss to your temple before pulling out. you hissed, whining shortly after at the empty sensation. as much as you wanted to feel his arms around you, you wanted a hot shower and a wardrobe change more than anything else.
as if rafe could read your mind, he carried you to the shower where he undressed you and bathed you. he continued apologizing for the way he treated you weeks prior to tonight. even after he had you in nothing but one of his t-shirts, he spent the night inhaling your sweet scent while telling you how perfect you were for him until you fell asleep in his embrace.
#❤︎₊ ⊹ works#₊˚⊹♡ bitchy!kook!reader#outer banks#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks smut#outer banks imagine#rafe outer banks#obx#outerbanks rafe#obx rafe#obx smut#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fic#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#drew starkey
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dead wrong — steve harrington x reader
summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend. his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.
contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.
a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍
fem!reader 5.3k words
gif by @barneswayne
Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.
Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.
A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.
He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.
“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”
Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.
“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”
There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.
“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”
Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.
“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”
A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.
Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.
“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”
Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.
“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”
You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.
“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.
He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”
You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.
Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.
Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.
“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.
Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.
“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”
Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.
“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”
Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.
Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.
Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.
You shrug. “No, not really.”
With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.
“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.
You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”
“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.
You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”
“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.
You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.
You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.
Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”
You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.
“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.
You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.
“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”
‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.
“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.
Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”
You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”
Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.
“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.
Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”
He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.
“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”
You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”
Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.
“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”
Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”
Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.
“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”
Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.
Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”
You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”
Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.
“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”
Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.
You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.
“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.
You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.
Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.
“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.
You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”
Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.
Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.
He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.
“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.
Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.
“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.
You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.
Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”
You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.
He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”
You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.
“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”
Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.
When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.
He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.
“Y/N?” He whispers.
You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.
He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.
“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”
A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.
He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”
-
You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.
You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.
He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.
“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”
Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.
“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”
Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”
Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.
“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.
Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”
Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”
Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.
“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”
“Steve!”
A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.
Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“
“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”
Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”
He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.
“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.
“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“
You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.
“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”
Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.
“What happened?” He demands.
Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“
“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.
“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.
“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”
You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”
Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lip so hard he almost bleeds himself.
“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.
Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”
She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”
Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.
“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.
“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”
At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.
“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.
Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.
“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”
He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.
-
You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.
He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.
Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.
You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.
“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.
You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”
“Hurting?”
You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”
You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.
“Steve?”
Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.
“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.
You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.
“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”
He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?
You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”
“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.
“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.
Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”
“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”
Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.
“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”
“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”
Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”
You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.
“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”
For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.
“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”
He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.
“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”
What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”
You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”
He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.
“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.
You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.
Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.
When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.
“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.
“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”
Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“
He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.
He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”
He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.
“Wait, Steve.”
Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”
You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.
His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.
Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.
He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.
“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.
Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”
“She’s tired.”
“But we bought chocolates.”
“Well—“
“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”
Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.
Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.
“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”
Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.
Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.
“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.
But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.
He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”
He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.
“Love you too,” you mouth back.
Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.
thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah
#★ mal writes!#(mal pushes herself past her limit)#ღ stevie#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader fluff#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader fluff#stevesmixtape!
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moth to a flame
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, praise, body worship, eye contact, public sex act, dry humping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your friend invites you to a bonfire where you meet a man who knows you better than you think. plus! reader
Characters: Bucky Barnes
Note: this is my first of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
Natasha is the coolest person you know. Probably the coolest person most people will ever meet; if they have the privilege. So it is that you wonder how she’s your friend. It’s really too good to be true which is why you can’t help but feel a bit enamoured by her.
It has to be real though. If you’re not friends, she wouldn’t invite you to her annual bonfire. A sacred tradition for her, or so you’ve heard. A gathering of all her closest friends. They are truly elite company. Not just your everyday schmucks, but The Avengers.
You’re sure you’ll seem a bit lame walking up with your basket of pumpkin muffins home-made cider. Still, you were taught to always bring something with you. Though it does provide an obstacle to getting to the front door smoothly.
You carry the large glass jug of cider by the metal handle as you hug the basket to your side. You struggle you hit the lock button on your keys and stop short as the cider sloshes around dangerously and throws your balance. As you try to correct yourself, footsteps scuff up behind you.
“Need help?” The deep voice is like silk.
You look over your shoulder, nearly tipping over as you do. The stranger manages to scoop up the basket before you tip it and you giggle in embarrassment. You sigh and let him take it from you.
Oh, he’s not a stranger. Well, you know his name, even if you don’t know him. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. One of Natasha’s many high-profile friends. Again, you ask yourself how you ended up there.
“Oop, thanks so much,” you say. “I should’ve made two trips.”
“No problem,” he assures you. “You a friend of Nat’s?”
“Uh, yeah,” you smile, turning back up the walk as he keeps stride with you. “New friend, I guess.”
“Friend is a friend. She only keeps me around because I made friends with a string bean back in 1930.” He chuckles.
“You mean--” You stop yourself and look away. You don't want to come off as a fangirl that quick. “Uh, well, we met at an event. She was teaching self-defense for the woman’s shelter.”
“Oh, you work there?” He asks.
You keep your eyes off of him, “I lived there. Not anymore.”
“Ah, well, that’s good? You’re in a better place?” He asks.
You nod, “much better.” You swallow and exhale. “I know who you are. You’re Bucky Barnes.”
“I’m never gonna get used to that,” he scoffs. “Takes the excitement out of meeting new people.”
“Oh, sorry, I...” you trail off before your nerves can break through.
You don’t think Natasha would ever have become your friend if she knew you were such a geek about her other friends. Cap and Iron Man and even Thor. They were the real-life heroes that inspired you to be your own. And it was a poster of Steve Rogers himself that sparked the last fight that led to you leaving your ex.
“It’s fine, so, do I get a name? Unfortunately, I don’t have the whole mind-reading thing going on,” he knocks on the heavy door as you shift the jug in your grip. You give your name as you peek over at him sheepishly. “These smell...” he lifts the basket and takes a whiff, “delicious.”
“I hope they are. My first time using my apartment stove. It’s gas. I’m used to electric,” you explain. “Uh, pumpkin muffins, if that’s what you were asking. Sorry, I...” you turn to the door and rub your lips together, “if I’m honest, I’m super nervous.”
“Nervous?” He echoes. “About?”
“Well, I’m not the greatest with crowds. Especially since the shelter... ugh, I don’t know why I keep bringing that up.” You cringe, “but uh, just... new people. I guess.”
“Ah,” he nods and teeters on his treads, knocking again, “damn it, Nat, what the hell are ya doin?” He grumbles. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m not really a people person either. The arm... it’s quite the ice breaker.” He sniffs, “I hate talking about the goddamn thing.”
“Um, yeah, that would be... awkward,” you utter.
The door opens before he can respond. You’re glad for it. You hadn’t thought about it but now all you can think of is if his arm has a built-in can opener.
“Oh, he-eyyyy,” Natasha stutters as her eyes flit between you and Bucky, “you’re here. Both of you. At the same time?”
“Uhhh, yeah,” you peek at Bucky.
“Ran into each other a few steps back. You’re shit at introducing people, Natty.”
She rolls her eyes and waves him off. She turns to you. “Wow, and what’s all this?”
“I brought cider and--”
“Muffins,” Bucky finishes for you as he lifts the basket higher. “I’m not much of a baker.”
“Or a guest,” she retorts. “That’s so amazing, thank you.” She reaches to take the basket, “come on, I’ll show you around. Bucky, I think you already know where the litter box is.”
Bucky tuts and shakes his head, “nice seeing you too.” He follows you in and faces you, “try to enjoy yourself. I know she’s a bit of a party pooper. Even if she is the host.”
“With guests like you, how can I not be,” Natasha trills and beckons you onward, “don’t worry about your shoes. We’ll most be outside so I’ll do a full sweep and mop tomorrow.” She turns and struts away.
Your eyes creep down her hour glass figure. You feel like a pervert as you do but you can’t help it. Even in a flannel and jeans, her body is perfect. The cowl neck of your red sweater and your corduroy feels a little less cute.
“You made these yourself?” She asks as she leads you into a large kitchen.
There’s a square island with a hardwood top and matching counters and cupboards; the tile is burgundy with black iron accents. You marvel as you compare it in your head to your boxy apartment with the peeling laminate and squeaky faucets.
“Uh, yeah,” you answer as you lift the jug of cider onto the counter. “Apple cider and pumpkin muffins.”
“You are too sweet. I have to admit, I got catering for tonight. I'm no good in a kitchen,” she chuckles. “Lived off of Hydra rations for so long, I can’t do much more than open a can or vacuum seal.”
“Oh, right. Nothing fancy,” you shrug. “You know, I just found the recipes online. Got some apples from the farmers’ market... I don’t know if it’s any good.”
“I’m sure it’s all delicious. Bet the cider would be great with some whiskey,” her voice is smokey as she smirks. “Wanna put that theory to the test?”
“Um, if you want. I’m okay either way.”
“I won’t blame you if you need some liquid courage before facing the rest. Work friends can be a bit much,” she chuckles. “Besides, I have a bottle that’s been sitting in my cabinet for too long.”
“Sure,” you accept, not wanting to be rude. And she’s right. You need something to take the edge off.
She hums as she leaves the muffins next to the jug and she spins to the cupboard. She takes out two glasses that resemble jars and a dark bottle of liquor. You watch her put it all together with ice and a cinnamon stick to boot.
“May as well get some before the rest devour it,” she slides a glass toward you and lifts the other, “cheers.”
You smile and clink her glass. You taste it and your cheeks pinch. The cider is good but you can definitely taste the whiskey. You hold back a cough and cover your mouth.
“I am just rewarming the hors d’oevres but if you want to wait, I can introduce you to everyone.”
Heat roils from the oven as it glows from within and there are trays waiting for serving. She’s already put so much in. You don’t want to make her day even more strenuous. After all, she didn’t have to invite you.
“No, it’s... you’re busy but if you need help.”
“Don’t be crazy. You’re a guest. Go, enjoy the party. I’ll be out shortly. Everything’s mostly out there already.”
“Okay, but um, I can take the muffins at least.”
“Alright,” she agrees.
You grab the basket and go to the door. You pause as you realise you don’t know where you’re going. Natasha laughs again.
“Other way, back door is right on the other side of me,” she sweeps around the kitchen swiftly.
“Right,” you turn back and cross the tile; one arm around the basket, your other hand cradling your glass. You push outside with your shoulder and step out onto the deck.
There’s a long table of snacks as promised. You go to it and put down the basket as you dare to glance up at the guests speckled around the yard. Pairs and trios stand in the grass and around the already crackling fire. They all seem to know each other and you recognise quite a few of them.
“Buns?” The question has you lurching in surprise as you face another partygoer.
“Oh, uh, no, muffins,” you lift the lid to show the contents. “Pumpkin.”
“Oooh,” the blond grins. The golden hair, the square jaw, broad shoulders; how could you mistake Captain America? “Can I try?”
“Of course. I brought them for everyone,” you smile and tightly clutch your glass of cider. “You’re... Captain America.”
“Ha, well, not here. I prefer Steve,” he takes out a muffin and peels away the liner. “And you’re... one of Xavier’s recruits?”
“Xavier? Who—no. I’m...” you introduce yourself as he sinks his teeth in to the muffin. Your stomach flips. What if it’s bad? “Natasha’s friend. Erm, I guess that’s what we all are but nope, I’m just me. Just a... civilian?”
He laughs, “just a civilian? Damn good baker. I don’t go for pumpkin often but this is amazing.”
“Really?” You beam and bounce on your toes.
“Oh, yeah--”
“Save some for the rest of us, punk,” Bucky comes up from behind Steve. “Just like him to be chatting up the cutest girl at the party. What line did he use?”
“Line? I’m just having a muffin,” Steve grimaces.
“Mm, muffins,” Bucky reaches in front of his friend to claim a treat of his own, “was waiting on these.”
He eyes your glass of cider and you take a sip. You pull your lips off the brim and gulp, “oh, the rest is inside if you want some.”
“She made that too,” Bucky points at your cup. “Who knew Natasha had cool friends?”
You giggle, “no, I’m not... just muffins.”
“Good muffins,” Bucky says through a mouthful, “mmm.”
“Might be good to hide them,” Steve remarks as he gives Bucky the side eye.
“Hey, these two meatheads giving you trouble?” Another figure approaches from the back door. You turn as Tony stark flips up his dark sunglasses. He sports a red velvet jacket with collar popped.
Bucky’s lips thin and Steve shakes his head, “you’re late,” the latter rebukes.
“It’s a party, capsicle. Chill. Wait, don’t do that. We might not see you for another seventy years.”
Steve scowls and takes another bite of his muffin. Bucky picks at his own and looks away. You nervously glance between them all.
“Tony Stark,” the new arrival offers his hand, “but you already know that, don’t you, sweetheart? So who are you?”
“Charming,” Steve comments.
“It’s called getting to the point, Rogers. Some of us aren’t gonna wait around until they’re in the nursing home.”
Steve growls and Bucky nudges him. The blond nods and looks at you, “I’ll see ya around.”
“Sure,” you accept. Bucky waves with two fingers and follows Steve’s retreat. You turn back to Tony and shake his hand as you recite your name. “Nice to meet you.”
“Natasha didn’t say this was a meet-cute,” he winks.
“Ummm,” you glance around nervously.
“Teasing ya. You look lost. You want the low-down on the dweebs,” he flicks his index towards the grass. “Now, you see, that kid right there, that’s Parker. His alias is top secret. For his safety. He might blurt it out anyway. And that’s his buddy Miles,” he points at to younger guests. “Someone should really separate them. We don’t need a mess.”
He snickers and puts his arm around you as he moves you toward the top step of the deck, “and there’s the mighty God of Thunder. We all know the puppy dog, and then there’s his stray cat of a brother. Trust me, I tried to have him ejected into space but apparently, they can survive that.”
He tuts. “And there’s Bruce, good guy. When he’s calms. And Brock. Real question mark, that guy. Maria, Coulson, Sam, Strange; the better Steve if you ask me. And Wanda, her husband; I made him, his name is Vision but I guess Victor is more ‘human’.”
He runs his hand up your arm as he pulls you closer, “there’s Charles, he prefers Professor, and his group of ragtag individuals. I could tell you their names but I’m already bored. Oh, except that one, the angry one with the swoopy hair. That’s Logan. Leave him alone. He’s even worse than the bozo with the vibranium arm.
“Now, T’Challa has more important things to do so we don’t got anyone else worth mentioning,” he drags his hand down your sleeve then lets go, “I’m sure you’ll be tired of all of us before the night’s done. I assure you, heroes save people, not the vibe.”
He clicks his tongue and jumps off the top step. You watch him strut off and you stare after him. There’s a lot more people than you expected. Familiar but still strangers.
The only good thing is there’s more than enough guests for you to fade into the background. You’re tempted to go back in and offer to help Natasha. You know better than that. She always sees right through you. She’ll know immediately that you’re just hiding from social interaction.
🔥
The night wears on into darkness. The large pit burns brightly as voices buzz and shadows waver. You stand watching the lick of flames, unnoticed amid the furor. Or so you think.
“Hey, there’s cider left,” Bucky appears at your side, his sleeve brushing yours. “Got you a top up.”
“Oh, that’s... nice.” You accept the glass as he holds another for himself. “You didn’t have to.”
“You look... lonely. I don’t know. Felt bad. You went to all that trouble and you’re wading through this sea of people you don’t know.” He shrugs. “Hate these things myself. I just came ‘cause Nat asked. Well, she tells. You know, you can’t say no to her.”
“Ha, yeah,” you agree. She isn’t just strong-willed, she’s intimidating.
“I usually end up just drifting around until everyone’s distracted, then I dip,” he explains. “Or find somewhere quiet.” He quiets to take a sip, “how about it? Everyone’s out here, there’s a sofa up on the deck.” Your teeth chatter as you try to taste the cider, “and A blanket.”
“Mm, it said it wasn’t supposed to get cold,” you look down embarrassed. You finally get a mouthful. It’s sweeter than before. Maybe because there’s no whiskey.
“Huh, well, you don’t gotta hang out with a boring old man like me. Just figured I’d offer,” he says.
“Thanks, that’s nice.”
“Well, I can be nice when I want to,” he raises his glass slightly and turns away.
As he marches off, you watch his back. Your eyes wander around. No one else even notices you. They’re all so wrapped up in each other. Even Natasha’s barely stopped to chat.
“Wait,” you call after Bucky, “I could sit down.”
He stops and turns as you scurry after him. The fire light flickers and limns the sharp angles of his face. He waits until your right beside him to continue on.
“So, you already know what I do for work. What about you?” He asks as you climb the steps in tandem.
“I’m a cashier,” you answer. “I work at a pet store.”
“Hm, I like animals,” he leads you to the sofa. You can see the glow of the fire but the voices aren’t so raucous from up there.
“Yeah, we mostly just have birds and hamsters there. Nothing very big. It’s a small place,” you explain. “I... It’s a new job.” You keep yourself from mentioning that the shelter helped you find it. It’s not really what you want to do forever, but it’s something.
“Still, that’s nice. You get to help people in your own way. Make sure they can spoil their pet,” he leans back as he balances his glass over one knee and you drink deeply from your own. “I got a cat. Demanding. A bit abusive.” He laughs then chokes on it. “Jeez, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke.”
You shake your head, “no, it’s not... really. I’m not upset.”
“You sure?” He angles towards you.
“Yeah, really. I can handle it,” you say.
He nods and hums, “yeah, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse than words.”
You’re silent as you look down at the cup. You take another sip. He clears his throat as he shifts in the seat. He reaches back to put slide his phone from the back of his jeans. He leans forward to place it on the table.
“Ugh,” he sits back. “Better.”
You smile, “well, you don’t just work, do you? When did you get your cat?”
“Oh, she just made herself at home really. It wasn’t exactly a conscious or willing choice,” he laughs. You fold one arm around your middle and shiver again. “Ah, where’s that blanket--”
He reaches to the back of the couch and pulls down the blanket. It hits his glass and he loses grip of both. He huffs as he soaks the flannel in cider.
“Damn,” he stands and holds out the sopping blanket before it can drip onto him or the couch. “Just like me. Hold on. I’ll go get another blanket and clean this up.”
He untangles the cup from the blanket and sidles past you. You sit back silently as he heads for the back door. You glance over and consider sneaking over to the table to pick at the leftovers. Instead, you huddle down against another evening breeze.
You finish all but a mouthful of side and reach to place it on the wooden table. His phone lights up and draws your attention. You blink as your eyes instinctively find the screen. You get a glimpse of the wallpaper right before it goes dark again. Huh?
You shake off what you think you saw and the phone lights up again. You lean over and sink your teeth around the gasp that threatens to spill out. That can’t be.
You check over your shoulder before you reach for the phone. You tap the side button and gape at your own image staring back at you. There’s a chat bubble floating on the front screen; new messages. You tap and expand the preview. It’s from Nat; ‘you find her?’
Your stomach sinks and you nearly drop the phone. The door opens and you quickly set it back down and sit back. You cross your arm and stare out at the other guests. Nothing can happen as long as you don’t leave.
He comes back and you flinch as he drapes a blanket over you. He drops down onto the couch as he pulls it snug around your front. He drags his grip down the edges before he lets go. “Better?”
“Mhmm,” you agree and blink. Your eyes feel dry. You reach up to rub them.
“Really good cider. You’ll have to send me the recipe,” he insists.
“Sure,” you slur and try to shake it off. “I’ll find the link...” you swallow and cough. You don’t feel right. You need some space to think. “I need to use the bathroom, one sec.”
You try to stand but don’t even get your ass off of the sofa before you slump over. Your head crashes into Bucky’s shoulder. He opens his arm around you and rubs your back. He hushes you as you babble.
“You’re okay, baby,” he rubs your back, “I got you.”
You try to make a noise but you can’t. You can’t whine or whimper or scream. You can just squeak as he pushes you back up so you fall back against the arm.
“I measured...” he says quietly. “You shouldn’t pass out.”
You gurgle and lift your arm. It takes so much effort that it drops down like a bag a sand. The cider...
He shifts and stands, moving your leg behind him before he lowers himself back down. His hand rests on your thigh. His thumb presses into your soft flesh.
“God, you’re so beautiful, doll,” he traces up and down the seam of your pants. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He runs his finger along your pelvis, making a vee back and forth, “soft and... warm.”
“B--B—B--” you stutter.
“The moment I saw you, I knew you needed me,” he moves even closer, his hand crawling up your stomach. “Whoever chased you into that place, he didn’t deserve you. You deserve better.”
He moves carefully, lifting himself and twisting onto his knees. His hand glides back along your thigh as he folds it around him. You twitch but can’t do more than that. He bends and holds himself over you.
He curls an arm under your head and nuzzles you. Your eyes roll back as you hide behind your eyelids. This can’t be real. What is he doing? How can he have photos of you on his phone? And that text... did Natasha set this up? Why would she do that? She’s your friend.
“Look at me,” he growls. His voice is scary. Your eyes snap open and you groan. The tip of his nose rolls around yours. “God, you’re beautiful. Doll, I’m gonna take such good care of you.” He leans his pelvis against you as he presses down, “I’m going to keep you safe.”
He tilts his hips until you feel his bulge against you. Your eyes round and you puff out a foggy breath. What is he doing?
“Don’t look away,” he snarls as he slides his arm back and grips the back of your head. “Mmm, I just... I love the way you look at me. The way you feel beneath me.” He rasps as he rocks his hips steadily, “I can’t wait to have you on me, doll. To feel you on top of me. Around me. Mm, I wanna taste you so bad.
“Mm, your chest,” he touches your tits, “your stomach, your hips,” his hand explores with his declaration and he hooks his hand under you, “your ass. All mine.”
His coarse whispers tingle through you. What he says is nasty and wrong and yet it’s thrilling. Terrifying because you can do nothing to stop him. Defeating because all the people only feet away won’t either.
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#fic#one shot#autumn#mcu#marvel#winter soldier#avengers#captain america#dark fic#dark!fic
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Like Right Now? ; Peter Maximoff x Reader
summary: Part 2 of this fic! Peter waited as long as he could - which wasn't very long. He wants round 2 and you do too. Like.... right now.
word count: 3.3K words!
w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, couch sex, sex while parent is in the same vicinity dry humping, kissing, neck kissing.
a/n: not beta-read. by popular request... aaaah I'm still as nervous as I was posting the first part of this! anyway, I hope it's good and satisfies the peter craving! as always, sorry for any clunky weirdo writing!!!
full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /
With a contented sigh, you opened the door to the house you shared with your mother. Even though you were technically an adult now, you had decided to stay with her, helping her around the house. A child of divorce, you’d always been a little overprotective of her, and couldn’t imagine her alone.
“Did you have a good skate, honey?” Your mother asked, watching from the living room as you hung your skates on the hook by the door. With your thumb, you furiously rubbed off a scuff mark off the shiny surface and nodded. Boy, did you. Best skate you’d ever had. Using your heels to slip your sneakers off, and kicking them towards the rest of the shoes, you laughed. “Yeah, I went real fast tonight and–”
The phone interrupted your next words, ringing shrilly. You practically stumbled towards it, reaching out for it like a parched man reaches for water. Your insides wound themselves in knots, just knowing that it was Peter on the other end.
“H-hello?”
“Hey cutie.” He’d waited. As long as he could without losin’ his ever loving mind. Which, he wondered if he already had, considering how bad he was aching to hear your voice again. Maybe he’d already lost it.
“Hi,” you hummed, turning away from your mother. You brought your tone lower, hushed.
“Did you just get home?”
“Yeah, Peter, I did.”
“Dang, slow poke. I’ve been home for a while.”
“Okay, well,” you laughed. “That’s not fair.”
“When do we get to uh… hang out again? Huh? I’m already jonesin’ to see you again. With or without skates.” Peter adjusted the phone against his ear, waiting.
You peeked around the corner. Your mother was busy with her program, no longer paying attention to your conversation, likely assuming that it was just one of your girlfriends. How wrong she was…
“Hang out? Is that what we did?”
“Yea’, er… somethin’ like that.”
“Whenever you want.”
“Aw, man, don’t say that…”
“Why not?” You ducked around the corner and plopped down on the third step of the staircase, winding the cord around your fingers. You knew why. You heard the way that Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, even through the phone.
“Like… now?”
“...Right now?” You asked back, almost in a teasing tone. “Like right now?”
“Yeah!” His tone was bright and excited, and it sounded like he was already out of breath.
“My house?” The suggestion was brave, but you knew your mom would be going to sleep within the half-hour. If you stayed quiet, she wouldn’t hear you over her bedroom TV.
“Yeah! I mean…” He cleared his throat, trying to act casual. Way more casualness was needed - he was acting super lame and way too into you. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you didn’t. He couldn’t risk it. “Sure. If you want.”
You began whispering your address, your eyes flitting to the living room. Your mother rose from the chair and went to the kitchen, none the wiser. You continued, knowing Peter had already committed it to memory. Your mother leaned down to cup your face as she went up the stairs and mouthed goodnight, and you covered the receiver with your hand.
“Night, mom. Love you.”
“Be there in a flash.” You heard him say.
You wanted to tell him to wait, but the line was already dead. As you moved, your hands shook and fumbled the receiver, dropping it once before getting it back on its cradle. Your mother had hardly gotten up the steps, and he’d be there any second, if he wasn’t already. You heard the door click shut and heaved a sigh of relief.
“Mom?” You said, testingly. She didn’t respond, so you launched your body up the carpeted stairs, running up them like a four-legged animal. Her door was shut, nothing but the dull glow of her bedside table seeping through the crack at the bottom of the door. You raced back down the stairs, your socks padding quietly down them, despite the speed.
Your bedroom was down the hall, past the kitchen. You’d never been gladder to be on the bottom floor. You crept into your room, edging the door shut until the latch clicked into place and as it did, paused to laugh at yourself; you were doing everything so sneakily, as though you were a child acting out. You were a grown woman, albeit still in your mom’s house, but the point remained. Pushing aside the curtains, you carefully maneuvered the window up. It was a warm summer evening, there was no reason why you wouldn't open your window - perfectly normal, if your mother heard it. You stuck your head out. No Peter. Surely, he’d have been here by now. You breathed, looking at the base of the tree outside your window. A squirrel skittered up into the branches. Just as you were about to pull your head back inside, Peter’s head comically poked out from the corner of the house. He had clearly been standing by the front door, which horrified you.
“Took so long, I was about to knock – .”
You shushed him, and whispered harshly for him to get inside. He stuck one leg in, climbing in carefully – the last thing he needed was to be a total klutz and eat it on your bedroom floor.
“You’re crazy, you know that? The front door!?”
“Cool your jets, babe. You didn’t tell me which window was yours. Where’s your mom?”
“Upstairs, hopefully sleeping.”
“Good,” he murmured into your lips, suddenly in front of you. He’d caught you off guard with his speed, but like everything he’d done from the moment he’d complimented your skates, he was so frustratingly cute. The kiss was warm and soft, you were in no position to resist it. He kissed you back towards the bed, his hands cupping your breasts, thumb tweaking your nipples over your shirt. Which reminded you… you were still in your skating clothes. There was far too much fabric in between his thumb and your nipple.
“Lemme’,” you murmured sloppily into his lips, before finally pulling back. “Lemme’ change first, okay? It’ll look less suspicious. Who needs to cool their jets, huh?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Hands up, Peter took a step back, watching you as you sauntered off towards your small closet. Your hips swayed back and forth to a song that wasn’t playing. Probably something you’d heard at the skating rink. You could admit it, you were putting on a bit of a show in hopes of arousing him.
Still though, you hurried, sliding the doors open and pulling your shirt over your head. You reached around and undid your bra, glancing back at him cheekily. Woah, jackpot… he thought, hoping, that at that point, he wasn’t drooling like a cartoon dog. He was watching you intently, a crooked grin plastered on his face. Neck turned, you held his gaze, daring him to look as you slid your shorts and panties down over the curve of your ass. He looked, but it was so fast of a peek that it was impossible for you to notice. Now finished with your impromptu strip tease, you pulled a sleeping shirt from the shelf and threw it on, spinning on your heels to face him.
Clad in nothing but the oversized t-shirt, you marched back to Peter, who had taken a seat on the edge of your bed. You climbed behind him, sliding your hands up the round muscle of his shoulders. On your knees, you were just taller than him and decided to take advantage of that by kissing his neck, slowly. You nipped here and there, suckling in other places while your hands explored the front of his shirt, ghosting over the faded print.
Peter started sweating, and the stiffness between his legs got worse. Much worse. There was no hiding it, or ignoring it and he could’ve sworn that he heard you giggle behind him. His expression was a melange of pain and pleasure, and as your hands neared his crotch, he couldn’t really tolerate much more of your tender kissing…
“Babe,” In a blur of motion, your back was pressed against your mattress, and he was back to tweaking your nipples again, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. The action made you squirm. “Your foreplay is bitchin’, but you’re driving me crazy. Loco. I feel like I’m gonna’ bust.”
“Okay, so now what?”
“Now what?” He repeated, almost mockingly. “It’s my turn.”
His hand trailed down from your breasts over the curve of your stomach to the soft mound between your legs. You felt a buzzing directly on the sensitive bundle of nerves and looked down, equal parts confused and aroused. It was his hand, and not a vibrator, but instead of seeing his fingers move back and forth, you saw a flesh-coloured blur. Everything you’d learned about fingering… in the span of a few hours, he’d completely shattered. So, he could finger-fuck you at super-speed, and he could literally vibrate your clit. Of course he could.
“Oh my god,” you moaned, an intoxicating lilt to your words. Peter groaned, and ground his hips against the side of your thigh. His finger dipped down, collecting some of your warm, slithery wetness and pulling it back up, smearing it around your folds.
You clapped your hand over your mouth, legs quivering. The pad of his middle finger continued tapping your clit and you felt the very rapid climb of your orgasm. Without warning from him, Peter’s hand drifted away from your pussy, his slick fingers gripping your thigh. “Babe, I’m thirsty.”
“Wh-what?” Breathless and sweaty, you quirked a brow at him.
“You got a soda or something?”
“Uh, yeah, in the kitchen. Y-you’re really thirsty right now?”
Before you could protest, you stood in the kitchen. He had opened the fridge, popped the tab on a can of Coke, guzzled it, and tossed it into the bin. You blinked. “What… Peter…!” You sniggered, covering your mouth to muffle the sound of your own voice. Your mother’s bedroom was right above the living room, and the last thing you wanted was her to wake.
He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t wait any longer. He’d gotten you downstairs, and now it was time to up the ante. Wrapping his arms around you, Peter zipped to the couch, and could’ve fucked your wet little cunt right there on the sofa. In the span of a few seconds, Peter could’ve drilled his aching cock inside of you, just long enough for you to feel it, just long enough for him to bust inside you and just long enough to make you quiver. Instead, he hovered over you, looking deep into your eyes, chest heaving.
“What’re you so nervous for, babe? You know that the second I hear footsteps, we’d be back in your room.”
“Peter, we can’t… my mom is right above us, dude!”
“You’re no fun, c’mon.” He craned his neck down, pressing a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone. “C’mon, babe.”
You whimpered, rolling your lips inward and your eyes upward. For being such a top tier goof ball, he was unnervingly good at making you feel like your entire body was on fire. That electric current that you felt at the roller rink was back, buzzing through you at a high voltage.
��Peter…” you begged, hoping he’d change his mind because the reality was that he’d get his way if he didn’t. You were too turned on and too into him to say no.
“C’moooon.” Another kiss. Internally, he was ripping stuffing. His confidence was outrageous, where did he get the balls? He wished you were holdin’ his – no. Stop right there. You ran your tongue along your teeth, and Peter watched the wet muscle as it swept across the enamel, glistening.
“You promise?” you asked.
He nodded, too eagerly, his silver hair flopping with the motion. “Scout’s honour, or whatever. She won’t know a thing.”
With a little huff, you spread your legs, allowing him in. Peter wasted no time in letting that wet, aching monster free, immediately pulling his gray boxers down over his balls. You pressed your hips into the couch cushions, backing away from the heat that met your groin and Peter followed them, pressing his hips right back into you. He groaned breathily, rutting his hips. You were soft and warm underneath him, and felt so soo good. The shaft of his cock met your wet folds, and he immediately found a rhythm, humping you in long, steady thrusts that had you curling your toes. Every time the velvet plush head of his cock bumped into your swollen clit, you whimpered. Ecstasy deluded your senses, eyes rolling back in your head.
“Peter, oh my god…!” His hand clamped over your mouth, his dark eyes widening in a warning.
“Shhhhhhh –”
You nodded underneath his grip, remembering the threat of the situation. Peter kept his hand on your mouth, pressing tightly against your soft lips. He reached down, taking hold of his cock and pumped it in and out of his own fist a few times before lining up with your entrance.
“Ready?”
With lusty, half-lidded eyes, you nodded.
Peter pushed his leaking tip inside of you, then with a shaky breath, sunk the rest of the way in. The sensation of your walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock was indescribable; hot, tight pleasure coursed through your body in waves as Peter found his rhythm. Fast. Fast rhythm. He fucked like a teenage boy, and you liked that – his bunny humps were deep and intentional, like the crimson head was trying to find the deepest point inside of you. Peter pressed his lightning-bolt patterned socks against the armrest of the couch, using it as leverage to push himself inside of you.
His cock made slick by your arousal, his hips moved against yours rapidly, hammering your cunt in a way that you physically thought impossible. In the darkness, you saw Peter smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual below him. Your tits bouncing underneath the shirt with each thrust, your eyes wide and lust-blown. His gaze dropped to them, watching, entranced. With your free hand, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to your collarbone and letting your breasts fall free.
“Oh fuck,” he whispered.
Skates fast. Fucks fast. Cums fast. You thought, watching as his face contorted, his eyebrows knitting together, jaw dropping. His breaths came out in hurried little huffs as he pumped inside of you, filling your cunt with sticky, white heat.
“Honey?”
He froze. You froze. Stiffly, you turned your head towards the staircase, looking up into the darkness, petrified.
“YEAH! YEah, mom, just… getting a drink!” You tried to keep your voice level, but there was something so inherently naughty about having a guy on top of you, his dick inside of you while you spoke to your mother. Your stomach was tight, muscles burning with the contraction.
“Oh, okay! I thought I heard - I don’t know. I love you!”
“I love you too! Goodnight!”
Once the door clicked shut, and your head snapped back in Peter’s direction, who was still panting on top of you. Slapping his pectoral muscle hard, you mouthed go go go go! Naturally, before you’d finished the last ‘go’, Peter had pulled out and you were back in the safety of your bedroom before a drop of cum had time to leak from your swollen cunt. Back on your bed, your hair splayed out on the satin pillowcases. Peter was at your side, drawing circles on the exposed flesh of your stomach.
“Did you uh -”
“No… I didn’t have a chance.”
“Oh, uh… sorry about that. That happens a lot, y’know? Part of the whole speedster thing, I can’t always –”
“Peter… shhh… it’s cute. It means you like me.”
He pointed a finger at you, pushing his bottom lip into his top. “That… that is true. Hey. I have an idea.”
In the darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight that filtered in through the window, you saw Peter sink down to his stomach, resting between your legs. He moved both legs atop his shoulders, pulling you forward.
You felt a hot breath against your thighs, and whimpered. When a warm tongue licked between your wet folds, you moaned out, grinding your head back into the pillow. Peter slipped a single digit into your cunt gently, twirling his tongue around your clit as he did. He pumped it in and out a few times, feeling the way your cunt squeezed around him. Your wetness coated his finger, dripping down the length into his palm.
You felt your cunt clenching, uncontrollably. Peter did too and withdrew his finger. His tongue flicked at your clit rapidly, the wet, slick sounds filling the quietness of the bedroom. His dark eyes flitted up to yours, watching every minute expression that flashed across your face.
“S-slow down…” you whispered, not loud enough for him to hear. It was more of a desperate breath in the shape of the words. He didn’t hear you, and even if he had, he was far too busy burying his nose in your cunt, tasting your sweet fluids. His tongue lapped at your entrance and curled back towards his throat, swallowing. He groaned into her, the sound resonating through your core.
“Peter… Peter!” You whispered harshly, gripping his head on either side. He didn’t budge, and his eyes drifted shut in ecstasy. Moving up to take a fistful of silver hair, you yanked him off your cunt, his reddened lips glistening and open, confused. His inky orbs looked up at you, dazed and desperate.
“Whaaat?” he asked, a hint of annoyance tainting his usually upbeat voice.
“Slow… down….”
“Sorry but that’s not really… my…” He paused, looking at your weeping cunt again. “...thing. She doesn’t really look like she wants me to, either.” He reached forward, sweeping a single digit along the length of your pussy. You jerked, sensitive.
“I can’t stand it, I’m gonna’ cum too quickly.”
“Quick is in the name, babe.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if telling you that you were shit out of luck.
He dove back in, and picked up licking her again, from bottom to top. He was slightly slower than before – maybe he’d decided to have mercy on you. Or maybe he was just savouring the feeling of your cunt as it practically fluttered on his tongue, your clit throbbing with the sensitivity. You rocked your hips against his mouth, humping his pretty face with reckless abandon. It was the only control you had, because as soon as you started that, his tongue had returned to the speedy flipping of your clit.
You were going to cum – so fast that you hardly had time to process it.
“Ffffuck… oh god,” you whimpered. Your cunt pulsed over and over again, and Peter was right there to feel it. He speared two fingers into her. Curled them upwards, feeling the clench of your orgasm as it came. He fucked you with his fingers until the throbbing stopped, and the first hint of overstimulation came – you whined, too loudly.
Peter grinned, his slick fingers slipping from your pussy. With a mischievous little glimmer in his eyes, he observed them, watching as the thick, clear strands strung apart between his digits.
You wanted to ask him on a date. He wanted to ask you on one. But neither of you said a thing. Neither of you said a thing, and just watched each other breathing, chests heaving, heavy with lust. Lookin’ cuter than she ever has… Peter thought, watching you in your post-coital state; sweaty and blushing.
You knew you were going to be obsessed with him – were already obsessed with him. The high that you chased with skating was nothing compared to what you felt being around this silver dork, and all his little quirks.
“So uh… same bat-time, same bat channel?”
You chuckled. “Yeah, Peter. Yeah.”
#Peter Maximoff#Peter Maximoff x reader#Peter Maximoff x you#Quicksilver x you#Quicksilver x reader#myfics#X-Men Movies
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‧₊˚♫ ⋅* ‧₊✮𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✮‧₊˚ ⋅*♫ ˚₊⋅
Tate Langdon x fem!reader
tags: smut with a plot and some fluff.
warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of a switch!Tate, oral (f receiving), dry humping, p in v.
summary: Tate encounters a Tumblr girl. (Inspirated a lot by the song I linked under.)
character count: 12k.
full fic under the cut ↓
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2014.
Tate had never really cared about looking ‘stylish’ or ‘fitting in’ when he was alive. He had his own style, which wasn’t trendy nor one of a kind just…his. He didn’t need anyone else’s approval to believe he was cool, mostly because the girls that were attracted to him were just as fucked up as him and the popular ones tended to ignore him.
Ironical how that changed in his afterlife, once he saw you. After dying, Tate’s time was spent either with the other trapped souls or by himself. Hardly ever people moved in the Murder House, and whether they did, they were a low-budget couple in their 40s. So Tate’s knowledge of the modern outside world was poor and lacking, especially when it came to his ‘peers’. That’s why when you first moved in the house, Tate was stunned, if not flabbergasted even.
You were struggling with carrying your heavy luggage, muttering curses as the wind blew your colorful hair in your eyes. The first word that came in Tate’s mind as he watched you from the front window was “cool.”
He spent the first days of your sojourn watching you from afar, admiring the way you acted. Tate found out the way you styled your outfits in the fashionable way, how you talked to your friends in slangs and how you spent your evenings taking pictures on your polaroid and on a glowing little box, that for some strange reason you called phone, to post (that’s the term you used) on a little blue icon marked with a white t. He didn’t know what was considered popular now, but he was sure you belonged in that category, judging by the way you looked and the way your pictures had high numbers under them whenever you uploaded them. He needed wanted to approach you, and the perfect opportunity showed up when he saw you type on your glowing box:
“PARTY in the MURDER HOUSE tonite!! >_< :33!!”
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The house had never been so full of alive people having fun. The doors were open, colorful lights were shining and high volume music was blasting. Tate tried blending in, although the more he looked around the more he felt…lame. The drunk teens around him were all different from each other, and none of them matched his vibe. And he even wore his favorite sweater!
Still, he had nothing to lose, so he took a deep breath and searched for you in the crowd. Tate made his way past people as they pushed him to the left and to the right. It felt weird to be seen, to be touched. He found you circled by people asking questions about the house. Was it haunted? Were there ghosts? All of which you answered with a simple “No.”.
“Of course there aren’t any ghosts, I’m keeping them away from you.” Tate thought. Since he was too nervous to actually take a few steps and start a conversation with you, he figured he’d get some punch, just to loosen up a bit. He walked towards the punch bowl, and as soon as he reached to grab a cup, his hand met yours. You both grabbed the same solo cup.
“Sorry! You can have it.” You giggled as you let him take the cup. Tate blinked a few times, eyes locked to your bright smile, before grabbing the cup and filling it up. “Be cool, Tate. Don’t mess it up.” He thought.
“Uh. So…this is your party, right?” He gulped, eyes darting around the house as if he didn’t know every single inch of it by heart.
“Yes! Thought it would’ve been fun to host a party in a so-called Murder House. Plus, this house is giant, it gets lonely after some time…You live near here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.” You smiled.
“Oh…yeah. My name’s Tate. I live nearby.” Tate’s eyes trailed upon your figure, he had never been able to see you from so close. You simply nodded, sipping from your cup. He cleared his throat.
“You know…I used to live in this house.” He added nonchalantly, trying so hard to sound interesting.
“Really?! No way!” Your giggles rang in his ears.
“Mhm. You probably noticed some of my things still laying around in my bedroom. No one has stepped in since I last did.” He nodded.
“Oh, do you wanna see? Maybe there’s something you left that you want back.” You replied, slightly raising your voice so that it could be heard over the music.
“I uh-There’s no need t-” He was interrupted by you grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs anyways. You opened the door of the bedroom and kicked out a couple that was making out on your bed.
“Ugh!! I should’ve locked the door!” You exclaimed, closing the door behind you two. Tate looked around, some of your things were laying around, but it was mostly all his.
“Dude you left everything here!” You giggled. Tate forced out a chuckle, everything was of course still there, since he ‘lived’ there normally and never moved.
“Yeah, uh…Guess I left in a hurry.” He muttered awkwardly and grabbed some of his Nirvana CDs.
“There they were…!” He pretended as if he didn’t just play them everyday before you came.
“CDs? Didn’t you use an IPod or something?” You gave him a confused look.
“Oh uh…no, I prefer CDs.” He nodded, as if he knew what an IPod was.
“You don’t use your phone?” You asked, raising up your glowing box.
“No, I…don’t have one.” He gulped.
“Damn, how do you handle that? I could never live without Tumblr or Instagram.” You chuckled.
“...Yea, um…just not my thing, y’know?” He cleared his throat, trying his best to change the subject.
“Oh, yea. I’ve met some people like that. I envy y’all, y’know? Tumblr’s literally addicting to me. Can’t help it though, love when people comment nice stuff and see you as inspiring, y’know?” You chuckled, sitting down on his your bed.
“Uh…can’t really relate. I’ve always been pretty invisible.” He shrugged.
“Oh…you don’t seem so bad. I like the whole grungy vibe.” You grinned, pointing to his outfit.
“Oh- uh…thank you.” He hoped it was a good thing to be ‘grungy’...or whatever you said.
“Yea, looks good on you. Doesn’t really fit me tho.” You giggled.
“You’d look gorgeous in anything.” Was what Tate wanted to say, but he didn’t wanna push his luck too far, so he just forced a shy chuckle.
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You spent something like 30 minutes just laughing and getting to know each other while laying on the bed. During this whole time, he couldn’t help but think about how breathtaking you were: your smile, your eyes, your body, your personality, your whole being. You were perfect. Perfect for him. He found himself to be completely mesmerized by you, he needed you to be his, he needed you to make him feel loved, alive. He wondered how you did it, how ever since the first second you spent next to him, his heart started beating for the first time since he died. His body felt warm, his skin didn’t feel so cold anymore, he started breathing again. He was addicted to this feeling, so he did the only reasonable thing he would’ve done if he was actually alive, he gently grabbed your cheek and pressed his lips against yours. Everything felt just better after he kissed you, as if after that whole hell he had been through he finally reached paradise. He felt even more surprised when you kissed back, your lips moving in sync with his. He moved to lay on top of you, balancing his weight so he didn’t crush you, his lips never leaving yours as his fingertips danced across your body. His tongue slipped in your mouth, swirling around yours in a passionate dance. He let out some deep throaty groans, he felt his desire grow as it coursed through his veins. He needed to feel you, so he deepened his kisses. When you moved your lips down on his jaw and then his neck, he almost lost it. He felt embarrassed for moaning so much and basically becoming a mess under your touch, but he relaxed as soon as he felt your lips curling up in a smile against his skin. He moved on to devour your neck, grinning as he felt you moan now. His hands gripped every inch of your body.
“You’re so…beautiful…” He mumbled against your skin, grabbing your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. He looked up at you while tugging at your shirt, silently asking for consent to peel it off of you.
“You can take off whatever you want...” You winked, giving him a cute smile. He immediately peeled off both his and your clothes, groaning at the sight of your body. His lips worked hungrily on your collarbone, leaving marks that will most likely turn into hickeys the next day, then placed kisses on the valley between your breasts, a tiny whine leaving him when his fingers failed at desperately trying to undo the clasp of your bra.
You giggled and helped him, throwing your bra somewhere on the floor. He immediately took one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling gently while looking up at you with those brown puppy eyes of his. You smiled and twirled a strand of his blonde locks between your fingers, soft moans escaping your lips. He kept switching between sucking your left then right nipple, his hand groping the one he wasn’t attacking with his mouth. He felt himself getting harder as he felt the warmth radiating from your body, so while his mouth worked wonders, he desperately brushed his growing bulge from under his boxers on your leg. He let out some needy whines, and he couldn’t help but mutter sweet words against your skin as he lowered down to trail kisses on your tummy.
“So perfect f’me…” His words came out muffled as he trailed his kisses down, pressing his lips against your inner thigh and then on the fabric of your panties. You moaned when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling it down, as his lips immediately worked on your clit.
“Ah…just like that Tate…don’t stop…” You moaned when he started to suckle gently, soft whines leaving his mouth as well. As he got more needy himself, his mouth lowered on your entrance, his tongue gently brushing against your wet folds, finally entering you after teasing you a slight bit. What you felt was pure bliss, unholy sounds leaving your lips every time his tongue sped up. When you looked down, you found Tate looking up at you with those brown doe eyes from between your legs, as he worked his magic. The sight only drove you to the edge, your moans getting louder as you came on his face. He groaned and cleaned you up with his tongue, making sure not to miss any single droplet of your cum.
“So good…you taste so fucking good…” He moaned into your ear, pressing wet kisses on your neck and collarbone.
“Wanna be inside of you…please? please let me…” He whined while rubbing his hard dick against your flesh. You nodded and just like that he didn't waste any more time, he abruptly pulled his boxer down, groaning as the cold air hit his shaft, and lined up with your entrance. While you were still coming down from your high after the intense orgasm, Tate pushed his dick inside of you slowly, moaning uncontrollably once he felt your tight walls clenching around him. You were relieved that this encounter happened when you threw a party, or every single soul nearby would’ve heard the throaty groans and moans leaving his lips.
“Mh…tight…so tight…so pretty-can I move please? I’ll be- ah…I’ll be careful-please-” He whined against your neck, as his blonde strands caressed your face gently. You agreed, and just like that he was thrusting in and out of you, first slowly, then at a steady pace. The room was filled with filthy moans, yours and his, and the repetitive sound of skin against skin, as your sweaty bodies were sliding one against each other. He felt like he was going insane as his mind couldn't help but focus on you and you only. Every moment was more pleasurable and he felt like he was closer and closer, so he muttered in your ear, still thrusting into you.
“Close…so close…don’t think i’m gonna last-ah…longer…please please please…want you to cum too…” He babbled as his brain turned into mush.
“Ah-! Mhm…m’close too…” You breathed out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten even more.
“Please-mh…cum on my dick? yeah? wanna feel you..please…” He whimpered, he felt like he couldn’t contain his upcoming orgasm. You couldn’t even respond as the repetitive brushing of his tip against your G-spot drove you to the edge. Letting out a loud moan, you came for the second time while he was still inside of you. That caused Tate’s eyes to roll back, his groans only filling the room as the feeling of your cum dripping on his length and your walls squeezing it, was too much to bear. He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, then he collapsed next to you.
He spent the next moments cuddling up against you, thinking about everything. His hands were playing with your hair, and when he looked down he found your eyes closed and your breath steady. He smiled at the sight, wanting every night of his afterlife to end like this and determined to make that happen. He kept placing sweet kisses on the top of your head, while he wondered how he was gonna explain to you that he died before Tumblr even existed.
.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.
taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @doll3tt33 @marchsfreakshow @fear-is-truth @dykejugheadjones @happy74827 @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind @brightanshiny
a/n: rahhhh tate's such a loser needy boy. BTW spent sm time on this fic, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out!! hope you like it! this is for my tumblr girlies🩷
all rights reserved!!
#Spotify#tate langdon#american horror story#ahs murder house#evan peters#ahs fandom#kyle spencer#violet harmon#james patrick march#kai anderson#taissa farmiga#ahs hotel#ahs asylum#ahs coven#ahs freakshow#2014 tumblr#smut#evan peters x reader#tate langdon x reader
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taste ( katsuki bakugo x popstar!reader, sort of established relationship, inspired by please please please by s. carpenter ) ( testing the waters for this fic w a short n’ sweet chap, pls enjoy, drop your thoughts, i have a longer vers coming, sorry for the wait omg i just want this to be soso perfect for y’all )
part one, part two
“Fuck my life.”
“What?” Your best friend, Misaki, asked from the stall beside yours.
You sighed, holding your phone in your hand as you walked out and met up with her at the sinks. You hadn’t even needed to use the restroom, you just wanted to check your messages in private.
“This asshole might actually be decent.” You rolled your eyes as you sent a text back.
“Dynamight?!” She smirked, trying to peek over your shoulder, but you were quick to shield your screen from her and exclaim that she’d get water on your dress if she didn’t quit being nosy while washing up.
“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.” You corrected with a grin,“But yeah I guess mostly everyone calls him Dynamight for short.”
“The fact that you know his full on dorky hero name tells me all I need, girl.” She said as she reapplied lipgloss in the mirror.
You scoffed,“Uh, if anyone’s down bad, it’s him, look at this text he just sent.”
k (ृ ु*`ω´)ु: Just leave the lame ass party.
k (ृ ु*`ω´)ु: I’ll come get you.
Misaki gasped,“You dirty little slut, you wouldn’t actually leave me here to go see him would you?”
You hid your face with your hair as you contemplated your answer,“...noooo.”
“You hesitated.”
“Okay, maybe I would like to see him tonight...” You relented,“Would you hate my guts?”
“Not if you call me tomorrow to hash out all the details of your dirty little tryst with the number two hero.” She grinned devilishly.
Lucky for you that no one else had walked into the bathroom since the both of you came in here, you didn’t need everyone hearing all the details of your private life.
“Deal.”
You neglected to tell her that you’d already texted him back.
y/n ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁): how soon can you get here
k (ृ ु*`ω´)ु: Already left, be there in ten.
y/n ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁): meet u outside xo
You left once you saw Misaki make it back to the rest of your friends, waving to them and blowing a kiss from the door before heading to the front of the building and grabbing your coat.
You were just about to put it on when a pair of hands ripped the material from your hold and a voice stated,“Let me help you.”
You watched dumbfounded as Katsuki Bakugo held out your jacket for you, he raised his eyebrow at you, holding it closer to your arms and indicating for you to put them through when you just stared,“Don’t have all night, c’mon, baby.”
You couldn’t help roll your eyes as you finally put it on,“Actually, we do have all night.” You turned around and he carefully pulled your hair out from underneath before his palm found your cheek, a soft caress that had you leaning in instinctively. “How’s it looking out there?”
“Bunch of paps, I’m sorry, they must’ve already known you were here.” He placed a kiss on your cheek as his official hello to you,“Just say the word and I’ll blast them all to hell.”
You snorted,“Yeah, right, and with it your career.” You rolled your eyes again and took his hand in yours,“C’mon, might as well face the music.”
You walked out together, lights flashing in your faces from the moment you opened the door and the paparazzi realized it was you. They began shouting louder once they realized who was with you, Bakugo took the lead though, using a strong arm to push people away from you and yelling,“Touch her and you die!”
Hot, you thought to yourself as you smirked and allowed him to pull you along. Who needed security when you had the number two hero on your arm?
He brought you around to his car,“Dunce face and ears are gonna kill me tomorrow.”
“Who?” You asked, confused.
“My dumb friends.” He scoffed,“They’re huge fans of you, once they realized I’ve kept you a secret they’re gonna freak out and yell at me.”
You chuckled,“Well my friends know so you can tell yours anything you want… within reason.”
He gave you a smug grin and opened the door for you, holding out his hand for you to get in carefully with the tall heels you were wearing. He went around the car and got in himself, finally allowing himself to indulge in a deep kiss now that you had the privacy.
It wasn’t until the next morning when it all began, Misaki spamming your phone with texts and calls about the news articles and asking you to please avoid social media.
You didn’t, of course, too curious for your own good.
You leaned closer into Katsuki’s warmth as you read through the headlines and saw the photos snapped of the two of you hand in hand, your accounts were worse… people online didn’t bother to hide their displeasure. You were suddenly blind, your taste questionable, and everyone was saying you had terrible judgement.
And yet, you couldn’t help disagree as you felt a kiss on the back of your neck and the grip around your waist become slightly tighter.
This thing you had was good, you knew it.
#bnha#boku no hero academia#mha#my hero academia#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ#vanishingstarrs
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worth the squeeze [s.h]
Two. Hey, Video Boy
↪︎ a Stranger Things/The Girl Next Door AU
Steve Harrington ✗ f!Reader
➺ w.c. 3.1k words ➺ tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, reader character uses she/her pronouns, sexual tension, reader is a vicious flirt ➺ a/n. I know it's been a while between updates, so thank you for your patience! Hopefully you're all still as excited about this fic as I am. A huge shout out to @batterycityghoul & @super-unpredictable98 for being my beta-readers and helping me pin down Steve's voice. I couldn’t do this without you guys. ➺ Dividers by @/cafekitsune.
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚
Steve tells his friends about his lucky encounter the night before, only for you to show up at the video store to visit him at work and invite yourself over for a movie night afterwards.
[ masterlist]
“Dude, you never called me back last night!” Tommy exclaimed, leaning against the front counter as Steve checked in a stack of returned tapes, pausing between scanning each case to type something into the computer. “Did anything happen after she caught you watching her?” he asked, wearing his usual shit-eating grin.
“Wait, what? Who’re you talking about?” Robin asked from the terminal next to him, and Steve gave a start, realizing he’d forgotten to tell her about the girl next door, too distracted by the memory of the night before.
“Oh yeah, right,” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “There’s this girl that just moved in next door—well, she’s staying there while her aunt’s away—but, I uh, I accidentally saw her changing through the window—”
“Steve!” Robin interrupted with a disgusted groan while Tommy barked a laugh.
“Yeah, accidentally,” he snickered, making Robin roll her eyes.
“Alright, so then what happened?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest, sensing there was more to the story.
Steve leaned back against the counter, pitching his voice a little lower in case any customers were within earshot.
“So then, she showed up at my front door, acting like nothing happened, even though I know she saw me, but I took a chance and invited her in.”
“Oh, shit!” Tommy exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on his toes, his impish grin growing. “Did you bone her? Please tell me you boned her!”
Steve’s grin grew strained and he cleared his throat. “I mean, not exactly,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes darting away. “We went out to the pool and she told me it was only fair that I strip for her, since I got a show...”
“Oh my God,” Robin snorted, covering her smirk. “I like this girl already.”
“So, she got you naked and nothing happened?” Tommy scoffed in disbelief, throwing his hands in the air as he pushed back from the counter.
“We went skinny dipping and we… almost kissed," Steve muttered.
“You didn’t even kiss her? What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Tommy cried incredulously. “Sounds like she was practically begging for it and you choked. God, you’re such a pussy!”
“I didn’t choke!” Steve exclaimed defensively, his brows knitting together. “I just don’t want her to be just another notch in my bedpost,” he sighed.
“Well, I for one, am proud of your restraint,” Robin said, pointedly ignoring the obnoxious face Tommy made in response. “For once you’re not acting like a complete dingus.”
“Thanks Robin,” Steve murmured, pushing his hair from his eyes. “I promised her a real date, but I’m still trying to decide where to take her,” he mused, planting his hands on his hips.
Tommy snapped his fingers before pointing at Steve. “Tina’s party tomorrow night!” he exclaimed. “It’ll be perfect.”
Steve nodded slowly.
“That might be good actually,” he agreed, brightening at the idea.
“A party?” Robin scoffed. “You really want your first official date to be some shitty house party?” she asked, earning herself a sneer from Tommy.
“What, you jealous cause you didn’t get invited, Buckley?” he taunted, his grin turning ugly.
“No, those parties are just lame excuses for people to get wasted and rub up on each other so they can forget for a moment just how depressing their sad little lives are,” she countered with a scoff.
“Oh yeah, she’s jealous,” Tommy laughed, smacking his palm on the counter before pointing at Steve again. “I’ll see you there, buddy,” he said, bobbing his eyebrows before turning on his heel and heading for the door. “Can’t wait to meet this new babe of yours!”
As soon as Tommy was gone, Robin fixed Steve with an unimpressed stare. “Remind me again why you’re still friends with him?”
Steve glanced at the door ruefully before back at Robin. “We’ve been friends since elementary school,” he explained with a helpless shrug.
“Yeah well, he’s a dick.”
“You used to think that about me too, remember?” Steve reminded her, picking up the stack of tapes he’d just checked in and dropping them on a cart to re-shelve.
“Yeah, but you changed. He hasn’t,” Robin snorted, pushing the cart down the first aisle.
“Do you really think inviting her to Tina’s party is a bad idea?” Steve asked, looking down at the case in his hand before handing it to Robin.
“Cause I didn’t wanna come on too strong,” he said, gesturing with his hands as he searched for the right words to explain. “I dunno, I’ve just done the whole dinner and a movie thing so many times and they always end the same…”
Robin nodded. “I guess I see what you mean,” she agreed reluctantly. “But do you think taking her to a party is gunna end any differently?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.
The door opened with a chime and Robin recited the official Family Video greeting without looking up, but Steve froze when he realized who had just walked in.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, louder than he’d meant to, and you grinned as he stepped around Robin. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, wincing at how it sounded. “I mean, not that you can’t be here or anything! You just… surprised me,” he explained quickly, trying to lean nonchalantly against the shelf and missing, stumbling backward for a moment before righting himself, a disgruntled look on his face at his lack of coordination.
You had to bite your lip not to laugh, not wanting to bruise Steve’s ego further. “I’ve been going around town, getting some job applications, and I thought I’d stop by to say ‘hi’, if that’s okay,” you said, offering Steve a smile and he was quick to nod.
“Yeah, of course it’s okay, you can stop by anytime! I-it’s good to see you,” he exclaimed, wearing a dazed grin of his own that faltered when Robin cleared her throat next to him.
“Oh, uhm, this is my friend, Robin,” he said, gesturing to her before introducing you.
“It’s nice to meet you,” you chuckled, shaking Robin’s hand.
“Same,” she exclaimed, a wicked grin twisting her lips. “You musta made quite the impression on Steve here, because he has not shut up about you,” he said, turning her cheshire smile on Steve and your brows rose at the colour that rushed to his face.
“Really?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, finding his reaction adorably endearing.
Steve cleared his throat and shrugged, reaching back to rub sheepishly at his neck. “I might’ve mentioned something about you.”
“Uh huh,” you replied skeptically, your lips curling, but you didn’t push it. “So, are you doing anything later, video boy?” you asked, idly picking up one of the nearby VHS sleeves from the shelf to glance at before setting it back. “I know technically we haven’t gone on an official date yet, but I was wondering if you’d like to watch a movie together at your place tonight?”
Steve swallowed, trying desperately to keep his thoughts pure, and struggling.
“Yeah, sure,” he answered, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll even let you pick out the movie.”
“Oh, you’ll let me? How chivalrous of you,” you teased, ambling down the aisle with the new releases.
“Any genres to avoid?” you asked, your eyes flicking to Steve as he followed.
“Uh, not really,” he admitted. “Though, I prefer comedies.”
You nodded, thinking for a moment, letting your gaze scan the shelves before plucking out a tape. “How ‘bout Better Off Dead? Or have you seen that already?” you asked, half figuring he’d already seen most of the films there.
“Actually, I haven’t, but it sounds good,” Steve replied, peering over your shoulder at the box in your hand.
“You mean you work at a video store and you’re not some hardcore cinephile?” you asked with a smirk and Steve shrugged a shoulder, running a hand through his hair, pushing it to the side.
“Nah, not really.”
“He’s hopeless!” Robin called from across the store, her cart of returns nearly empty. “I was the only reason he got this job in the first place. This dingus knows next to nothing about movies,” she laughed, making your smirk grow.
“Well, maybe I can educate you then,” you said, turning back to Steve, finding him closer than you realized and your breath hitched.
“I like the sound of that,” he replied, tilting his head in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek.
“Good, I’ll see you at seven then, and I’ll bring the popcorn,” you said, wetting your lips as you lifted your chin, lingering in his space for a moment longer before slipping around him to head to the counter, turning back to him with a playful grin.
“You gunna check me out, video boy?” you teased, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before following, flashing you a wry look.
“I’ll put it on my account, employee discount,” Steve said as you passed him the case and he scanned the barcode on the back. “Just don’t forget to return it in two days. I’d hate to get hit with a late fee,” he joked, his eyes flicking up to yours playfully.
“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’ll be in here frequently, for one reason or another,” you said, taking the tape and waving to Robin. “See you later!” you called, returning your focus to Steve with a wink. “And I’ll see you later.”
As soon as you turned to leave, Robin joined Steve behind the counter.
“I definitely like her,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “You better not mess this up.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Steve breathed, finally tearing his gaze away from the door and letting his forehead fall to the counter.
It was only a few minutes past seven when you rang the Harringtons’ doorbell, finally having settled on an outfit after trying on and discarding several—wanting to be comfortable, but still look cute. Steve opened the door with a grin, sparing a moment to look you up and down before stepping aside and ushering you in.
“I brought some Jiffy Pop,” you said, handing him the little aluminum pan and heading for the kitchen.
“Perfect,” Steve replied, following you. “Can’t watch a movie without fresh popped popcorn,” he exclaimed, setting the pan on the burner and twisting the knob.
“Exactly,” you agreed, jumping up to sit on the counter nearby to wait for the burner to heat up, the little metal coil turning orange.
“So, where all did you get job applications for?” Steve asked, giving the foil pan a shake as several kernels popped inside.
“Oh geeze, all over,” you sighed, running through your list of stops. “The movie theater, the drug store, a couple gas stations, the book store, oh, and that insurance place on the corner; they’re looking for a secretary.”
The popping grew louder and the foil packet began to grow, soon doubling in size, puffing up into a large dome, steam escaping from the little hole at the top. Steve turned off the stove and pulled the popcorn off the burner, pouring it into a large tupperware bowl sitting on the counter.
“Wow, sounds like a bit of everything.”
“Yeah, right now I can’t exactly afford to be picky,” you murmured, stealing a piece of popcorn and popping it in your mouth.
“Yeah, I hear you,” Steve commiserated, handing you the bowl and opening the fridge to grab a couple cans of pop. “That’s pretty much how I ended up at the video store. Though I gotta say, it’s better than the last job I had slinging ice cream.”
“What was so bad about it?” you asked, following him out to the living room and plopping down on the sofa next to him. “Well, for one, the number of snot nosed brats I had to deal with on a daily basis,” he explained, holding up a finger, “and two, I had to wear this incredibly lame sailor outfit and I looked ridiculous,” he scoffed, adding a second finger before subconsciously running his hand through his hair.
“What?” you cried gleefully, trying to imagine what his little sailor uniform looked like. “I’m sorry, but that sounds adorable!”
“No, you don’t understand, it was awful! Did I mention there was a matching hat?” Steve exclaimed. “It totally messed with my best feature and made me super un-datable.”
“I find that hard to believe,” you countered, knowing you still would’ve given him a chance if he’d been dressed like that when you’d first seen him, instead of his green Family Video vest.
“I’m telling you,” Steve insisted, shaking his head. “Just ask Robin. She had this dumb whiteboard with a tally of all the times I struck out,” he added and you couldn’t help but laugh, warmed by the grin that curved his lips despite the unpleasant memory.
Your laughter died down and Steve reached for the remote, starting the movie.
“So, was the ice cream gig your first job?” you asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn as he cracked open his Coke for a sip.
“Mm, yeah,” he answered, swallowing and setting the can down. “Dad wanted to teach me a lesson,” he murmured, heaving a breath as his gaze lowered. “I used to be… kind of an asshole,” he admitted.
“Used to be?” you joked, smirking as Steve’s head snapped up and his mouth fell open.
“Hey!” he yelped, though the corners of his mouth twitched and you stuck your tongue out at him playfully.
“Just for that, no more popcorn for you!” he teased, yanking the bowl away from you and you let out a gasp, leaning across him to reach for it, your fingers straining.
“I take it back!” you laughed, your face warming when you realized you were practically draped across Steve’s lap, and by the pink flush that crept across his cheeks, you guessed he was quite aware of it as well, though he made no move to relent and if you stretched any farther, you’d tumble off the side of the couch.
“I dunno, I don’t think you’re all that sorry,” Steve mused, narrowing his eyes at you.
Biting back a smile, you pulled back, flashing him the most innocent face you could make. “I’ll be nice the rest of the night, promise,” you insisted, tracing an X over your heart and Steve cracked, rolling his eyes.
“Alright, but you’re on thin ice,” he warned with a grin, handing you back the bowl of popcorn.
On the tv screen, the previews had just ended and the opening credits began, punctuated by a scream as a little animated woman was kidnapped by a monster.
Settling in to watch the movie, you felt Steve shift next to you as if he wanted to move closer, but was gauging your reaction, not wanting to overstep. When you didn’t pull away, Steve’s eyes darted to you and he chewed his lip. Clearing his throat softly, he stretched, nonchalantly lowering his arm behind your head to rest against the back of the couch.
Smiling to yourself, you tucked your legs up under you and leaned into his side. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the pleased smile that crossed his face and you reached for some more popcorn, resting your head against his shoulder.
“So, uhm, there’s this party tomorrow night, and I was thinking we could go together,” Steve ventured casually, glancing over at you, his grin turning uncertain. “I mean, if you wanted. I know it’s not exactly a typical first date, but I thought, y’know, it might be fun, and I could introduce you to some people, since you don’t know anyone else in town–”
“Steve,” you said, interrupting his nervous ramble, amusement tinging your voice.
“Yeah?” he asked, cutting off, a hopeful look flickering across his face.
“I’d like that.”
Steve let out a long breath, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed he’d tensed.
“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re all flustered,” you teased and he frowned, his brows furrowing slightly.
“I wasn’t flustered,” he argued.
“Uh huh,” you hummed skeptically, studying his face, mapping every mole and committing their positions to memory before finding his eyes.
“I thought you said you were gunna be nice,” he murmured, wetting his lips as he leaned in.
“I did, didn’t I?” you breathed, your eyelids fluttering as you leaned in as well, your breath catching in anticipation, the movie playing on forgotten in the background.
However, when the front door opened with a bang, followed by a pair of loud voices, your heart leapt into your throat with a jolt and your eyes snapped open to see Steve jerk back, his head whipping around.
“Mom! Dad! You’re back–” he yelped, half rising from the couch and his parents finally seemed to notice the pair of you, straightening hastily, embarrassed they’d been caught mid-argument in front of a stranger.
“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” he exclaimed, pausing the movie.
“There was a change of plans,” Mrs. Harrington said, a subtle terseness to her voice that you couldn’t help but notice, remembering what Steve had said about his parents’ precarious relationship. “We didn’t mean to interrupt, we weren’t aware you’d have company,” she added, eyeing you curiously and you got to your feet, rounding the couch to introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you both,” you said, shaking their hands once you’d given your name. “I’m staying with my aunt next door for a while, and Steve’s been sweet enough to show me around,” you explained, flashing him a smile.
Mr. Harrington seemed distracted, as if he had something else on his mind and couldn’t wait for the conversation to be over, while Mrs. Harrington nodded a little vapidly.
“It’s nice to meet you too, dear. Please, don’t let us interrupt,” she said, nodding to the television and your paused movie. “Bill, I need a drink,” she said, ambling out of the room and Mr. Harrington let out an audibly annoyed sigh, grumbling under his breath before picking up his suitcase and following her. Steve groaned softly, a grimace marring his expression. “I’m sorry about them… they weren’t supposed to be back yet,” he murmured ruefully.
“It’s okay,” you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, wanting to steer his mind away from his parents. “Let’s watch the rest of the movie, shall we?” you suggested, pulling him back to the couch, and getting comfortable again.
“Yeah, okay," Steve replied, letting himself be led. As he started up the tape again, he couldn’t help but grin, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Thanks,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours, a meaningful look passing between you.
“Any time.”
➺ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @santacarlahorrorshow @sailorskunk @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson
@thecreelhouse @melodymunson @corrodeddeadlydoll @stevesxyellowxsweater @destroya2005
@steviespookie @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @corrodeddeadlydoll @girlwiththerubyslippers
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#stranger things#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fan fiction#fic: worth the squeeze#joz.fic
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okay but like how did twee!reader and rafe become official, i feel like rafe would carve "be my girlfriend?" on an apple or something 😭
oh YES he’s sooooo lame and soft for her… i see him either using a scary little knife to carve into an apple for her OR…. he tries to sew!!!! handing her a piece of scrap fabric soon as she opens the front door, his hands all covered in little cuts and knicks from the needle :C messily stitched into the fabric is ‘date me?’
“couldn’t— couldn’t really figure this shit out but uh— yeah. here, kid…”
obviously she says yes!!! pulling him inside and putting cute little bandaids on his fingers. kissing him all over and saying how sweet he is. <3 def might write a full fic of this!!!! ty nonnie 🍎
#twee!reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#fanfic#outer banks#rafe cameron smut#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader
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Title: accidentally kidnapping the mafia boss
Fandom: haikyuu
Characters: kuroo, bokoto
Fic type: fluff
Pairings: kuroo x reader, akaashi x bokoto
Warnings: male reader, reader insert, slow burn, readers oblivious, choking, threats, bleeding
Notes: want bam
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
(Name) Hummed as he dragged a cool vintage luggage chest home on his dolly-- an amazing investment he will always treasure-- having seen it on his way home and running to grab his dolly to get it "damn this things heavy..." (Name) Grumbled as he pulled it carefully up the stairs as to not damage the stairs or break the chest though it seemed sturdy.
"Ok... And into my apartment..." (Name) Mumbled unlocking the door and bringing it in excitedly before moving it to the ground "easy..." He whispered to himself and marvelled at the amazing chest "let's see what's inside" grabbing his trusty chain cutters he kept after neighbor put a lock on (name)s mailbox-- he was still mad at that old fart.
Cracking it open he carefully lifted it to see... "Holy fuck that's a person" (name) noticed the stab marks in the side for air as the man was sweating and exhausted "sir?!" He panicked as he noticed bruises "fuck..." The black haired man was disoriented before looking at the man before him and immediately (name) was on the ground with a hand around his throat "who fuck are you?"
"I... Can... Ask the same..." (Name) Wheezed as he gripped the man's tattooed arm desperately to get it off and the man glared but loosened his grip and (name) gasped "where am I?" The man seethed, looking around the room at the tiny apartment "my apartment, I thought this was a cool trunk and took it home... Wasn't expecting you"
"Shit..." The black haired man stood up slowly and hissed in pain, (name) looked alarmed "dude you're bleeding! Let me get my med kit!" (Name) Immediately scurried off to grab said item as kuroo stumbled to the couch, brief thoughts about its comfort as he rested a bit and tried to sort his thoughts. "ok, so I have hello kitty and pokemon gauze, which one you want" (name) asked and kuroo looked confused "what? Regular gauze is lame"
(Name) Helped him remove his sweaty and tattered shirt before beginning to clean his wound "thankfully they missed any important bits, I can stitch you but you may need a shot of vodka or something" (name) teased as he began patching him up the best he could with the finite skills he had, humming softly as he worked. Kuroo was staring at him intently, why was he so calm? He just found a dude in a chest he brought home! "Aaand there!" (Name) Seemed pleased with himself as he patched up the other, a grin on his face "you should rest for a bit, do you have anyone to call?" (Name) Asked while getting up to walk to the kitchen only a few feet away "uh, yeah..." Kuroo was awkward to say the least.
(Name) Put a few rice balls on a plate and a cup before walking back, setting them infront of him. Pulling out his phone he pulled the call screen up and handed it to kuroo "here, to get your strength up"
Kuroo quickly dialed his right hands number, tapping his foot as it rang a few times "speak"
"Bokoto, it's kuroo" the mob boss said simply and bokotos tone changed "where are you?! I have been looking for you for two days!" The owl like man yelled worried and kuroo looked to (name) "what's your address " (name) perked up at the question"(address)!"
"Who was that?"
"My accidental captor, don't worry the kittens as harmful as a daisy"
"That's good, we will be there in 30"
"Excellent, bring me a new shirt"
"On it!"
Hanging up kuroo signed and (name) let out a small laugh "what's so funny?"
"This is such a weird day!"
"Yeah... It is pretty weird" Kuroo chuckled lowly as he looked at the other "you're weirdly calm for finding someone choking you out" (name) shrugged "I would have been pretty hostile if I was stuck in a trunk for god knows how long and in an unknown place" kuroo looked at the bruising around (name)s neck and frowned, he was too cute to have bruises like that... Well at least in the context they existed in.
Kuroo leaned and gently touched (name)s Adams apple, the reddish bruise forming on his neck in the shape of kuroos hand "sorry about this" he whispered and looked into (name)s eyes as the other man looked back at him. The two were close, very close and kuroo decided he wanted to kiss his little kidnapper.
BAM BAM BAM
"YO KUROO, ITS ME!" Bokoto called from the apartment door, and kuroo grumbled and pulled away "One minute!" The buff man got up and walked to the door, swinging it open to reveal another buff man. "Whose this?" Bokoto asked seriously as he nodded to the cutie on the couch "oh this is... Fuck I forgot to ask your name" kuroo said to the other who just smiled "I'm (name)! Sorry for accidentally kidnapping you!" Bokoto now understood why kuroo called him a kitten, sweet smile and no regards for the dangerous men in the room that could kill him.
"Would you like something to drink?" (Name) Offered and kuroo wanted to laugh at the absurdity of this all as bokoto shrugged and sat on a chair.
"Accidentally got kidnapped by a twink with a nice ass" bokoto teased as he looked at the man preparing drinks and snacks "better grab him before Akaashi spots him" his husband loved cuties like this, kuroo glaring at the concept of his best friend and right hands husband touching (name).
Wait what.
Why did he care?
And that grin on bokotos face said it all, kuroo was into the dumb pretty boy who came in with snacks and drinks.
Kuroo took a bite from his rice ball with a sigh, this was gonna be troublesome.
#x male reader#male reader#haikyuu x male reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x male reader#hq x reader#kuroo x male reader#kuroo x reader#anime x male reader#anime x reader
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So… I already have like 70 Sterek fic tabs open on my phone (there’s so many good authors in this fandom it’s not my fault!) but I was thinking that despite some fantastic tumblr posts about it I don’t think I’ve actually read a necromancer!Stiles fic.
I went through your fabulous tag page but I didn’t see one so hopefully I didn’t miss it. If you or your loverly followers have any recs I sure would appreciate it!
(And no rush, I seriously have so many tabs but I am greedy)
Hi @arora-kayd! @kevaaronday made this list for you.
Murder, Magic and a Masterclass in Denial by Noxnthea (9/9 | 41,940 | Explicit | Sterek) “No, seriously, I need to talk to you really quick,” Stiles interrupts. “Before Peter gets out here.”
Derek braces himself. “Okay.”
“I need you to make sure I can be alone with the body for a few minutes.”
Derek stares at him. “You get that that’s like…a really weird request, right?”
In the three months since Derek left the NYPD and joined the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, he’s gotten used to a lot of things: he’s learned to deal with seeing Peter every day, he knows how to hide his enhanced senses on the job, and he doesn’t mind the late nights and early mornings.
One thing he’s still not used to, however, is Stiles Stilinski.
You only Live Once… or Twice by WonderWolf (6/6 | 32,949 | Explicit | Sterek) “Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’.
Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—”
“I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.”
Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.”
(Or the one in which Stiles is a necromancer who needs help stopping a rogue alpha and Derek is the solution, but at what cost?)
I See Dead People by Asteria_Star (13/13 | 15,318 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles has been able to see Ghosts for as long as he could remember. Having a ghost tell you that you are a necromancer and that the supernatural exists was nothing. What isn't nothing is trying to navigate your best friend becoming a werewolf while trying to hide what you are.
Features Stiles and Talia having a mother-son dynamic that I didn't know I needed.
Sarcasm, Suspicion and Raising the Dead: A Necromancer’s Guide to Getting the Guy (Your Murderer and/or Your Boyfriend) by Aerica_Menai (1/1 |13,917 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles met Derek’s blue, blue eyes - still striking, even bloodshot from crying - as he slid into the other side of the booth. Immediately, the request came tumbling forward: “Could - would you bring her back?”
“I can - I will - but only temporarily,” Stiles warned.
“Thank you,” he breathed. “Whatever extra time I get with her will be - “ He took a deep breath as his voice broke. “ - appreciated,” he finally choked out.
And that’s when Stiles knew he was in trouble.
formed in the very poetry of nature by frankie_31 (4/4 | 7,984 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles can raise the dead. Stiles can put them back down. But what happens when one of his undead minions stays up?
Peter Hale is back from the dead. Kind of. And he'd like to stay that way.
Burial Rituals by aurevell (1/1 | 4,989 | Gen | Sterek) The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.
“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”
Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.
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Here, have an episode coda ficlet featuring JoshEddie, EddieJosh, Jeddie, whatever the kids are calling it...
(If there are typos in here no there aren't. I need to learn how to write fast and loose and SHORT if i want to ever be a writer ever again. I so never do a tumblr fic moment idk how to format this lolol anyway this is Josh's POV, features a couple mustaches, and a suddenly flirty grocery store banter moment okay luv u bye)
Much like every Halloween shift before it, this one was a wild one. Josh had made it through the shift okay, but when he clocks out it takes a little longer than most days to shake it off. Something about it clings to him. When he gets to his car, he just wants to text someone from the 118 to see how Hen’s son is doing but he doesn’t think he can take bad news either.
He’d love to just go home and draw the black out curtains and crash for the day, but a scheduled reminder pops up on his phone telling him to grab a few things at the store. He’d rather not be faced with the lack of those things on the other side of a day spent sleeping, so with a heavy sigh he turns his car on and sets his sights on the closest Ralph’s.
Discounted Halloween candy in a mess of boxes greets him at the entrance of the store. Josh grabs a couple bags, thinking of the candy jar on his desk. He takes his time in the produce section, finding some sort of comfort in how empty the store is while employees bustle around stocking shelves.
He rounds an end cap overflowing with tortillas of every size imaginable and is shocked back to reality when his cart clangs sharply against someone else’s.
“God, I’m so sorry,” Josh rushes to say, looking up at the other cart’s owner. And of course he had to run into the hottest guy in the whole store. Brown eyes, prince charming hair swoop, a mustache, and… oh fuck, that’s Eddie Diaz. “I uh… was lost in my own world,” he finishes lamely, a confusing mix of attraction and annoyance swirling in him.
“Thought that was you,” Eddie says, neutral enough. His eyes flick down to Josh’s mouth and back up to his eyes. “Hey.”
“Eddie. Hi, sorry.”
“No worries.” He glances down at Josh’s mouth again and Josh’s skin crawls, not unpleasantly. Josh feels self-conscious, like he always does around Eddie. He fights the instinct to let his shoulders curve inward to protect his soft underbelly. He almost wants to overcorrect by snapping to perfect posture instead, but he fights that urge too. Act natural.
“Getting off shift?” Eddie asks. “Heard you on the radio last night.” Neutral, neutral, neutral.
“Yeah. Crazy night, right?”
Eddie nods. “They took us out of rotation for a little after, well…” Eddie waves his hand in front of him as a loose identifier. Josh understands.
“I can imagine. Are you coming from the hospital?” Josh asks.
“Yeah,” he says, scratching at the stubble along his jaw in way that strikes Josh as impulsive and nervous.
Josh takes a deep breath and asks, “How’s Hen’s son doing?”
“He’s doing great, surgery went well. He’s got a broken leg and will probably be hurting for awhile, but he’s okay.”
Josh lets out a relieved breath. “Thank God for that.”
Eddie smiles softly. “Yeah, we’re all really relieved.”
Josh nods. He finds himself running out of things to say and feels the clock on this interaction running down swiftly. But again, that mustache… For all intents and purposes, it’s kind of a basic and typical firefighter sort of mustache to have but Eddie really pulls it off. Something about it lends a bit of mature softness to his face, contrasting nicely with the rest of his face. And listen, it’s a good face. Josh has never lied to himself enough to mark Eddie as unattractive, physically. He has eyes.
“Nice mustache, by the way, suits you,” Josh says. Because why not?
Eddie laughs a little louder than Josh finds necessary here. “Yeah, you too,” he says.
“Huh?” Josh asks. His stubble can’t be that grown in. Is he being made fun of or something?
“The…” Eddie lifts his hand to make a reverse pinching motion at his own upper lip. “The mustache…?” he finishes when Josh continues to blankly stare at him.
Josh’s hand flies up to his upper lip, fingers coming into contact with the stupid fake mustache he’d glued on forever and a day ago. “Oh my god.” He laughs. “I forgot I was wearing this. Wow, it was such a long night.” He picks at the edge to peel it off. Eddie’s eyes track the motion, a gentle amusement settled over his features.
“Yeah, I can’t do that with mine,” he teases.
Josh feels disarmed. Just seconds ago he thought he was on the wrong side of a joke, now he feels on the inside of one.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Impressed it stayed on so well,” Eddie comments.
“Yeah, I watched a YouTube tutorial. I was sure I was going to sweat it off.”
“Ever try growing one, or is that not in your wheelhouse?” Eddie says, playful.
Josh should feel at least a little offended, but he’s pretty sure he’s detecting a little friendly banter… “Honey, I’m Italian, I can grow facial hair.”
Eddie holds his hands up, lips downturned in a Muppety kind of way. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Uh huh, that’s right,” Josh says on a laugh.
“And what were you supposed to be exactly?” Eddie asks, gesturing loosely at his regulation blue polo.
“I was kinda going for Eddie Diaz if he had only ever had a desk job,” Josh says, and he’s sure the small note of flirtation in his tone could be heard by anyone in a ten mile radius.
Not sure where that came from…
Eddie laughs, the unforgiving overhead lights making his eyes sparkle. “Well, you nailed it. I guess.”
“Thanks, thanks, I tried really hard.” He holds up his balled fist and flourishes his fingers open and closed to reveal and conceal the fake mustache a couple times before shoving it into his pocket.
“No, but really, what were you supposed to be?”
Josh never accused Eddie of not being thorough, at the very least. Relentless, sometimes. Snide, at his worst. It was something that used to rankle him. But now there’s an easy openness to Eddie’s face that might be earnest curiosity.
“Well, I kinda never got around to coming up with something and I had that thing laying around from last year’s costume. So…” Josh shrugs, pairing it with a lopsided smile. “Me with a mustache?”
“And what was last year’s costume?” Eddie asks. Thorough. Bordering on relentless.
“Oh, do not make me say, you’ll make fun of me.”
He tilts his head just slightly, a slow and mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Oh, c’mon. I’ve had the worst Halloween ever, throw me a bone?”
Josh shifts his weight from one foot to the other with an indignant sigh. A distant part of him notes Eddie’s tactic. Charming his way into what he wants. Where Josh would have been inclined to read it as fake before, he can’t seem to draw the same conclusion now. It’s a sweet smile.
“Fine. I was one of the Village People. It was a group costume.”
Eddie’s face lights up. “Oh, that’s great. Which one were you?”
“Construction worker,” Josh answers, feeling his cheeks heat up against his will. Why is he embarrassed? Why does he care? It was a good costume. He’d looked kinda hot. He and his then current, now ex-, boyfriend and their friends had a great time. Whatever.
“Love that,” Eddie says, sounding like he genuinely kinda means it.
“Yeah,” Josh says, waving his hand vaguely in the space between them. “What’s been so bad about your Halloween?” Tit for tat.
Eddie’s face goes through a series of fast but very clear expressions that all say: are you fucking kidding me?
“Other than,” Josh interjects before he can actually say anything out loud. “That horrible call.”
Eddie huffs a forgiving laugh. “Ah, I mean, isn’t that enough?”
“Sure.” Josh lets the sentiment hang.
Eddie looks at the products on the shelf in front of him for the first time since they’ve been in this aisle and seems to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. Josh is about to retract his question entirely when he clears his throat and says, “I uh, don’t have my kid with me anymore. He’s in El Paso with my parents and Halloween was always our thing but apparently this year he’s suddenly too old for it. And, you know, every time I respond to a call for a kid who is hurt and their parents are right there, or sometimes they aren’t, I just… I don’t know. And Denny really could’ve…” he trails off, and Josh recognizes the superstitious, nearly holy refusal to name what could’ve happened. He clears his throat again. “It was really dicey there for a second and I was watching Hen and Karen, holding Karen up… I just. Miss my boy.” He sniffs, suddenly. And shakes his head.
Josh follows his eye line to a row of Manischewitz Gefilte Fish and his skin is crawling to break the tension, to distract, to do the thing he always does even though he really shouldn’t…
But he can’t stop himself.
“Sooo, Gefilte Fish, am I right?” he asks.
Eddie’s eyes cut to him. Then back to the shelf in front of him. He smiles and shakes his head. “Sorry, I made it weird.”
“I’m pretty sure I made it weird, actually,” Josh says with an apologetic tone.
“Right, but I could’ve answered that differently.”
“No,” Josh disagrees. “I asked. I wanted to know. I meant that I made it weird with Gefilte Fish.”
Eddie laughs again, bright and airy. “Sure. Anyway, sorry.” He shakes tension from shoulders, and seems to be ready to excuse himself and walk away. Josh should let him. Josh doesn’t want to.
“I’m really sorry to hear that, Eddie, sounds tough.”
“Yeah, no, it’s… life, you know?” he says dismissively, with a wry twist of the mouth.
Josh shrugs a shoulder. “And life is tough sometimes.” With nary a breath between thoughts, he plows ever onward. “I was going to get breakfast before going home, there’s a weird little diner near here that makes a great French toast. Wanna join?”
Here’s the part where Eddie and Josh are supposed to come to and remember who they are. Who they are to each other. Who they’ll remain to each other. Josh braces for rejection. Josh prepares to walk away with the satisfaction of having reached out to someone, whether or not they wanted to accept.
Eddie’s face, which Josh has counted at least a thousand emotions and micro expressions on in this short exchange alone, does something soft. Sweet. He smiles a little. “That sounds nice, actually. Thanks.”
Josh’s heart leaps a little. “Great!” He feels the grin stretch across his face without his permission and bites his lip to contain it. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “You’re buying, you owe me for implying I’m too gay to grow a mustache.”
“UH, excuse me, I did not,” Eddie argues, waving a bossy finger at him. There’s a sparkle in his eye that tells Josh they’re playing the same game.
“Uh huh. And I bet you know so many gay people you couldn’t poooossibly be homophobic. Prove it to me over breakfast.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, biting down his own grin. “Sure. Fine. You done here? Let’s check out and go.” He makes a point of knocking his cart into Josh’s, cheeky bastard that he is, and heads for the front of the store. “Coming?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah,” Josh says, grinning at the back of his head.
#jeddie#josheddie#eddiejosh#911 show#911 abc#eddie diaz#josh russo#s08e05 coda fic#amanda writes things and stuff#in typical me fashion i am NOT opposed... to writing more of this even if its just for me and 2 people lmfao
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Just the Two of Us: Starry Night
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Steve Rogers
Summary: Steve stops by unexpectedly.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
Your phone buzzes again. You’ve been ignoring it. To you, it’s more a nuisance than a convenience. The only people calling want to sell you something and your work only emails. You get your assignments and you complete them. Simple as.
You prefer simplicity. You’ve lived in chaos before and you hope you never do so again. Ironic to think you came to New York, then. Well, it’s easy to blend in there.
You finally pull your eye away from the lens and check the screen. You hover your finger over dismiss before you read the ID. Steve? You tap ‘answer’.
“Hey?” You utter, “what’s going on? It’s late?”
“Ah, you know, bored,” he answers.
“You’re bored so you’re calling me at nine?” You scoff.
“What? Are you surprised the old man stays up past six?” He chuckles. The background noise is a garble of passing cars and a few honks. It all seems to echo dully.
“No, I’m just...”
“Busy?” He intones.
“No. Just didn’t expect you to call.”
“Ah, were you about to turn in? Bit early,” he turns the judgement on you.
“I wish. Kinda restless.” You admit. “Wait, I thought you were out of town.”
“Yeah, I just got back. Hey, do me a favour and tell me which one of these buildings is yours.” He says.
You hesitate. Huh? Your silence leaves the line to drone. He says your name.
“Where are you?” You ask.
“I don’t know, that’s the problem.”
“Aren’t you from New York?” You challenge.
He sighs, “okay, let’s rephrase. I don’t know where you are.”
Once more, you pause. You’re not exactly prepared for company. In fact, you’ve never let anyone else into your tiny apartment. On top of that, you’re huddled under a blanket on your balcony, in a pair of old sweats and an oversized cotton tee.
“You’re coming here?”
“Sure. Ah, come on, I’m wandering around. I’m starting to get looks from the creeps like I’m one of them,” he quips.
“Alright,” you murmur and recite your address. “Buzz up. Code is 1147.”
“Right, think I can handle that.” You hear scuffling on his end. “See ya soon.”
The call cuts and you lower the phone. Steve is cool. Well, he is a hero. An Avenger. You don’t really get why he still hangs around. You’re lame. You’re just you. Yet here he is stopping by like an old friend from college. It’s strange, as you think of it, how abruptly he just barged in on your night, but he is the Cap, so what’s the big deal?
You should be grateful. It’s been a while since you had a friend. Since you even had the choice to have one.
You stand, careful not to knock into the telescope, and pull the blanket around your shoulders. You step into your apartment, brisk from the night air, and look around. You don’t have much, but enough.
You clear off the futon and fold it up into a couch. The squeal of the metal hurts your ears and is capped off by the buzzer’s horrid drone. You go to answer, peering around your bachelor in dread. Why didn’t you think of it before? This place isn’t fit for Steve Rogers.
“I’m here,” Steve chimes through the static.
“Uh, yeah, er, are you sure—we could go somewhere?” You offer, even if you’re not in the mind to leave.
“Nah, can I come up? Everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” you assure him, “one sec.”
You press the other button and your stomach flips. Great. That’s it then. He’ll see how you live and realise he’s too good for you.
You wait by the door and peer through the peep hole. When you hear his footsteps from down the hall, you flip back the lock and look out around the wood. You wave to him as he approaches.
“Oh my god,” you can’t help but exclaim he reaches you. He has a gash across his hairline. “What happened to you?”
He frowns then reaches up to try to tug his hair over the cut. “It’s fine. It’ll be all healed up by the morning.”
“The morning? That’s a nasty one.”
“Yeah, well, the serum...”
“Right, right,” you roll your eyes at yourself. How can you forget?
“Well, you look cozy,” he smiles and gestures to you.
You look down at the fringed edge of the blanket hugged around you.
“Yeah, I was just outside.”
“Really? In this weather?” He wonders.
“Mhmm,” you hum. “I guess you wanna come in then.”
“Ideally, yeah,” he snorts.
“Okay, but uh, like, it’s pretty small so...”
“Oh, don’t even worry about it. I’m used to small things. I was around in the 30s, you know? I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” he chuckles. “Besides, anything’s better than a foxhole.”
You step back and nod. You never really forget who he is but you don’t always consider everything he’s done. Everything he’s been through. It makes you feel a little less cursed yourself.
He steps inside and looks around. You see the twitch in his brow but nothing else. No reaction, but you’re certain he’s judging.
“I told you--”
“What were you doing outside?” He bowls over your embarrassment.
“Um, looking at the stars.”
“You can see them in this stuff,” he squints.
“I have a telescope,” you close the door and he bends to untie his boots.
“Really? So, it’s like a big thing for you. All professional and stuff.”
“I just like to look,” you shrug.
“That’s... cute. Interesting. Probably see more outside the city though,” he muses.
“Probably,” you agree. “So, I don’t have much else going on. You want a hot chocolate or something? I was about to make some.”
“Hot chocolate?” He echoes as he strides around the small space. “That sounds delicious.”
“Just the cheap stuff,” you counter.
“I don’t mind,” he turns his back to you and sits on the futon. It creaks perilously under his weight.
He doesn’t seem bothered as his head tilts and he seems to stare at the papers stuck to your wall to form a haphazard star map. You cringe. You’re an uber nerd sometimes. He must think so.
“You did that?” He asks as you dip around to the small kitchen, penned in with only a counter.
“Uh, yeah. It’s just... It’s not very accurate I’m sure...” You mutter.
“Still pretty interesting,” he leans forward, his arms on his knees.
“I’m sure you’ve seen more interesting things,” you argue as you fill the kettle. “You don’t have to lie to me, Cap. Aren’t you supposed to be honest?”
“I’m not Abe Lincoln,” he chuckles. “I’m being honest though. I like to draw too.”
“It’s not really drawing.” You twist the stove knob as you put the kettle on the burner. “Just... making dots and lines.”
“I don’t know. It’s still artistic in a way,” he says.
“Alright,” you say doubtfully. “So, what has you so restless that you’re knocking down my door?”
You come out to the front room, not that it’s very separate from everything else, and step up next to the couch.
“Well, to be honest, my other friends are too busy for me these days. But also, I’m too busy for them. You’re more fun.”
“Oh, fun? Hot chocolate and stars,” you shake your head.
“Yes,” he insists as he looks up at you. “Can I see the telescope?”
He stands up and you lean back on your heel. He’s a lot bigger up close. You tend to steer clear of others. You’ve never been very comfortable with proximity.
“Uh, sure,” you back up, barely restraining your frantic nerves. “Sure, I’ll show you.”
You sweep around the back of the couch, the blanket flapping against your back and go to the balcony. You sense him behind you. You step out and hold the door before he can catch up. He emerges and you turn your focus to the scope. It’s easier when you have a distraction and you could go on for hours about all the cool features of the one thing you splurged on in the whole place.
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#series#drabble#au#just the two of us#captain america#marvel#mcu#avengers
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fic: come what may pt 3
part 1 | part 2
if you wanna read on ao3
thanks x
---
Kara’s body sags into the lawn chair that she keeps on the rooftop of her apartment. There’s an area up there that she’s claimed for herself, right by the back corner just around the rooftop entrance. She’s glad for it, especially right now, while she stares out onto the other rooftops of her neighborhood with her powers blown for at least another couple of days.
She lets out a big pathetic sigh, puffing out her cheeks, when she recalls how she got into this predicament.
It had been a hectic day for Supergirl. A rogue missile headed straight for downtown National City coming at the heels of a drawn out fight with an invading alien group. She’d only had enough time and energy to redirect said missile, but not to release it and fly away in time. Shrapnel lacerated her suit and embedded itself into her flesh when she attempted her retreat while the fiery explosion singed the edges of her cape as she spun out of the blast radius. She was then propelled by the force of the explosion, nosediving at the precipice of consciousness into the cliff’s edge by the coast.
She winces at the memory and the proceeding aerial footage that Brainy showed her where she collided with the side of jagged rocks off the side of a cliff, taking a chunk of it out. The worst part was when she’d startled awake the next morning, frantically searching for the date and time, realizing with a sinking heart that she’d missed the night she told Lena she’d return to her balcony.
She hoped Lena would understand, yet when she had plugged her phone in, there were no messages from her. Kara frowned and tried not to let the silence between them affect her. But by the way she slouched back on the sunbed, she couldn’t quite shake off her disappointment.
Now that she’s off-duty for a few days while she recovers, she requests to work remotely to spend the time researching just so she can finish hiding in her apartment. Well, at least for now, she’s hiding on her rooftop. It’s become a kind of oasis for her. Not just today, but for a few months now while she accepted their new normal and tried to navigate this Earth. She didn’t think it would make a difference, but when she brought up two foldable lawn chairs and a tiny round table to make a little sitting area for herself, it somehow made her feel less alone.
These days, Kara will take whatever she can get.
Her head lolls to the side when she observes a few birds walking near her before perching themselves on the cement ledge nearby. One of the birds flew up before dropping down on the cement ledge gracefully.
“Show off,” she mutters to herself. “I can do that, too, you know.”
The birds continue on disregarding her comments and her muttering. She is then interrupted by a buzz of her phone in the plastic cup holder section of her foldable chair. She considers not answering, Alex probably pestering her to get some rest like she’s not already doing that. But the idea of getting yelled at just doesn’t interest her, not when she's already feeling herself at her lowest, so she decides to pluck her phone out of the cup holder.
Her back straightens and eyes widening in unabashed surprise when she glances down at the message displayed on her phone screen.
Lena: Are you home?
She sucks her lips between her teeth, her thumbs hovering above the glass. She moves her finger and presses the call button.
It rings just once when Lena picks up.
“Uh, hi,” Kara offers lamely, cringing at herself.
“Hi.”
“I’m—did you need something?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line.
“Alex told me what happened. I…I thought to bring you some food since I heard you’re not well. But if you’re not at home or don’t want company, I can leave the bag by your door.”
“Uh…no! I mean—you didn't need to do that,” she starts, scrambling out of her chair and rushing to the rooftop door before jumping down, taking the stairs two at a time and almost colliding with the stairwell wall. “You’re—that’s very nice, Lena…”
When her apartment door comes to view, she freezes mid-step. Kara’s gaze drops down to the bottom landing of the third floor and finds Lena, still dressed in her work clothes and hair done up in a loose bun, holding a plastic bag in one hand and her phone by her ear in the other.
“You're at my door,” she comments, stating the obvious, hearing her voice echo through the open phone line between them.
Lena smiles, the motion slight and lopsided.
“It would appear so.”
Gingerly, she steps down one step at a time, her eyes never once leaving Lena. Long seconds pass between them until she arrives by her front door, a measly two feet away from her visitor.
Lena pulls the phone away from her ears with a smile before pocketing it. Kara mirrors her when she realizes she hadn’t hung up yet. Lena’s smile drops and her now empty hand reaches up but stops mid-air between them.
Oh, right.
“Looks a little gnarly, huh?” she jokes, an awkward grin on her face. Truth be told, she feels better than she looks. By tomorrow’s time, her injuries will disappear and fade, her face returning to its unblemished state. She remembers that very few people see her like this, and it’s with an ache in her chest she realizes that this is the first time that Lena has seen her in this state. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”
Lena slowly closes her hand into a fist and eventually drops it. She does her best not to feel disappointment at that.
“Um, you—you had food?”
It’s then that Lena lifts the bag she’s been holding, extending her arm out. “I got your favorites.”
She accepts the bag, their fingers grazing with each other until she grabs hold of the bag, welcoming the weight of the food that’s inside.
“Would you like to join me?”
*
The rooftop door opens to a fresh breeze and the waning sun.
She leads the two of them to her makeshift sitting area by the far end where a couple of birds have taken to loitering. They flap their wings and get away from the commotion of their presence and she sets the bag down by the table.
Her eyes are drawn to Lena crouching down slightly and brushing the back of her skirt so she can sit on the lawn chair properly, sinking down until her knees are higher than her hips.
Kara outwardly grimaces. “Sorry, I forgot that’s the saggy one. We can trade place—”
“I’m fine. I don’t mind.”
Kara watches her but silently nods and resumes taking out food from the bag and spreads them out on the table, filling every space on it. Unsure what to say or even how to speak to Lena, Kara then decides to take her time serving them their food. She passes a pair of paper-wrapped chopsticks to Lena who accepts it quietly before she peels her own, separating the wood with a snap.
She senses Lena’s eyes trained on her, but she doesn’t flick her gaze up not once, instead focusing on taking the plastic lids off and turning it into a makeshift plate. She then serves up a portion of lo mein and a few pieces of sesame chicken before putting three healthy pieces of golden brown potstickers to finish out the plate.
Kara finally looks up to Lena studying her. She offers a crooked smile and offers the lid-turned-plate towards the other woman who accepts it quietly, their fingers once again grazing against each other. She hurries and picks up the lid of the lo mein and serves herself her own plate, the portion smaller than what she normally eats when her powers are fully intact.
For the next few moments, they eat in silence, the soundtrack to their early evening but the crowing of the nearby birds and the sound of distant traffic down on the streets. Every now and again, her eyes cast up to watch Lena as she digs into her own plate. The silence between them settles comfortably, like before.
Before the distance between them, before her lies and betrayal, before Lena’s revenge. Before all the hurt she inflicted, they inflicted on each other. Before, before, before.
Except they can’t ever go back to that world, to that life.
As she catches sight of Lena chewing on a potsticker and eyes staring out onto the view from her rooftop, she thinks there are worse places to be and she’s fine exactly where she is.
*
“Thanks for the food,” she says, breaking the silence between them, her lid-plate completely empty. “I appreciate you coming by.”
“Well,” Lena starts, leaning back on the chair, sinking further, her legs crossed at the knee. She looks comfortable this way despite the sharpness of her work attire. “I was promised a ‘something’ and I’m here to collect.”
“I meant to come back.”
“You were busy.”
She chuckles at that. “A rogue missile can do that to you.”
Lena tilts her head, as if studying her, and Kara does her best not to squirm under her watchful gaze. Then, Lena silently leans forward and stands from her seat, wiping away any minuscule dust or crumbs from her lap. Just as quietly, Kara tilts her head as she follows Lena’s every move.
A gasp escapes her mouth, her brows jumping to her hairline when Lena extends a hand forward.
“Let’s dance, Kara.”
Her eyes drop to the offered hand in front of her. She looks back up again to an unreadable expression on Lena’s face. She gets on her feet, her legs slightly wobbly until she’s standing to her full height.
Careful in her movements, as if Lena might take her offered hand back, Kara clasps their hands together and steps forward just as Lena steps back.
“There’s no music,” she says. Lena simply quirks her brow before she reveals her phone in her other hand. Kara blinks, wonders how she could have missed that.
“There’s always music.”
Lena then presses play on her phone, the first few notes playing. Her brows crease together, her eyes quietly asking, but Lena just shrugs. They then get into position, Kara’s other hand on Lena’s waist just as Lena’s rests on her shoulder, her finger almost tracing the scabbing gash lines on the side of her face. Kara barely resists the shiver that runs down her spine.
“I was watching Notting Hill last night because my schedule cleared up.”
She cocks her head slightly as the two of them begin to sway. “Didn’t take you much for a romantic comedy kind of viewer.”
“In this world, I am.”
She nods. “I like it.”
The cool evening air breezes past them as they entangle themselves as they sway on beat to the song, their gazes stretching past each other’s heads.
“What’s it like, not having powers?”
She shrugs a little. “Like things are muffled, almost muted. I feel weighed down, like gravity’s working twice as hard to keep me down. It’s not unpleasant or anything, but it’s not a feeling I’m used to.”
Lena nods, almost to herself, as she seems to take the information in.
“I got worried when you never showed last night,” Lena says as she stares right up at her, her voice soft.
She shakes her head, though, and pulls Lena closer, wants the other woman to make sure she’s looking when she says, “I wanted to be there, but I was out cold, apparently. I woke up this morning and panicked when I found out I’d missed it. Then when you didn’t contact me, I just thought you were mad at me.”
“I thought you changed your mind.”
Kara tilts her head up to find the blues of the afternoon sky having been traded in for the oranges and pinks. “As part of our pact of starting over, I think we should really improve our communication skills.”
She then releases Lena so she can twirl her.
“You’re not a fan of us assuming the worst of a situation or each other and internalizing it as a moral failing of ourselves?” Lena teases, exhaling a breathy laugh.
“Lena, please,” she grumbles, a half-hearted attempt at suppressing her laugh. “Be serious.”
She spins Lena twice until they come back together again, their fronts now pressed to each other, their faces inches from one another.
Lena she turns her head until her chin rests on Kara’s shoulder. “We can stand to be better, I agree.”
They move gently and loosely on the rooftop, Elvis Costello’s crooning voice filling the space around them and the National City city skyline just off to the distance. Finally, the last notes of the song play until Lena separates their hands and stops the next song from playing on her phone. Kara watches on as Lena walks towards the ledge of the rooftop towards the city’s skyline.
It takes her a few drawn out moments to follow suit and stand beside Lena, her eyes trained on the twinkling lights of the city she saved just yesterday.
“Kara.”
She glances sideways, watching and waiting. Lena pivots her body so she’s facing Kara, green eyes bright and alive even in the blanketing darkness of the evening.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she breathes out, her warm hand on Kara’s forearm where a large gash sits. “I’m glad you asked me to stay for dinner. I’m glad…you let me in.”
She places her own hand atop Lena’s. “Can I tell you that ‘something’ I promised?”
Lena gestures with a nod, curling long, elegant fingers around Kara’s arm, like she’s trying to anchor herself to Kara, or maybe it’s the other way around. She’s not sure, but she doesn’t care either way, just that they are.
“I want to rebuild our friendship first and foremost, and that’s what I’ll be focusing on. But I also…” she pauses, chewing on her bottom lip. When Lena looks on encouragingly, she takes a deep breath. “But I also hope that if you’re open to it, that it could someday lead to something…more.”
“Something…more,” Lena repeats.
“Yeah.”
“What are you really saying?”
Kara scratches her temple, adjusting her glasses on her face. “I’m saying that there are feelings that I’ve denied myself about you because I’d hurt you and then you’d hurt me. But they’ve never gone away, Lena. Not once. And if it’s alright with you, I don’t want them to.”
When Lena doesn’t say anything, Kara’s confidence wanes and her mouth goes rogue. “But if you don’t feel the same way, if you don’t or c-can’t love me as more than a friend, then that’s fine, too. I’d never—that’ll never stop me being your friend or wanting to protect you.”
“You love me?”
“Without question,” she says, pressing forward as she tightens her grip on Lena’s hand.
“What if you change your mind?”
Kara’s heart tries not to bruise at the fear and apprehension in Lena’s eyes.
“I won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t,” she says with a helpless shrug. “But I know you.”
Lena doesn’t say anything more, her eyes searching Kara’s face—for what, she’s not sure, but Kara won’t look away. Wordlessly, Lena twists her head to gaze out to the darkened horizon for a moment, and Kara prepares herself for the worst. She’s not prepared for the shine of tears in Lena’s eyes when she turns back to look at Kara. She thinks if she looked closely, she would find her reflection and the threat of her own tears.
“I thought we’d missed our chance. After everything, I just thought—”
It’s then she shakes her head, inches closer, her heart rapidly beating when she thinks about what Lena’s saying. “It’s still here, Lena. I’m here.”
Lena lunges forward and Kara receives her in her arms, winding them around Lena’s middle, tightening her grip when Lena buries herself in the crook of her neck. They rock side to side in place as they simply hold one another, the city’s night sounds of National City buzzing around them.
After a short while, they break apart, eyes searching for each other under the dim rooftop lights that Kara just now notices have turned on.
“Okay,” Lena finally says, her voice watery, but strong.
“Yeah?” Her heart sings and swoops when Lena bobs her head. “Okay, then. Um, do you wanna go downstairs and watch a movie or something?”
Kara doesn’t move or breathe or do anything but watch as Lena brings the back of her hand and gently caresses cheek. “I’d love to, but I should head back home.”
She resists the disappointment to wash over her and offers a genuine smile.
“Let me walk you down.”
They untangle from each other, Kara’s body practically vibrating as they clean up and march down the steps hand in hand. When they reach the front of her building, Kara isn’t surprised to find Lena’s driver already waiting.
“When’s your next dance lesson?” Lena asks when she turns to face Kara once again.
“Thursday at the Y. 7pm.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
Her face splits into a wide smile that she doesn’t bother hiding. “Never.”
“Goodnight, Kara,” Lena says, leaning forward and pressing a small, chaste kiss on her cheek before squeezing Kara’s hand and letting go. “See you Thursday.”
Her response is to carefully dip down and place a mirroring kiss on Lena’s cheek. When she draws back, it’s to the image of Lena’s face soft and gentle, smiling up at her.
The smile never disappears from her face as she watches Lena stride towards the backseat of her car, as she rolls the windows down and gives Kara a parting wave, as she rolls the window back up only after they’ve turned the corner.
The air around her swirls with hope, crackles with possibility, and she clings onto it all while she ascends the stairs two at a time to her apartment, humming the song of their earlier dance. This is just the beginning, a chance to make it count.
So that’s what she plans to do.
#samfic#supercorp#lena luthor#kara danvers#kara x lena#supercorp fanfic#this is the final part we are done we are free#good work team#goodnight also
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