#just stupid beck thoughts this weekend

[beck-nightengale]

Jade: just casually flirts with Jespar, pretty sure that nothing serious will ever come from it

Me:

[dixons-sunshine]

Accidents Happen | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. Daryl was only picking you up from work. He didn’t want the night to end with the both of you in the hospital with no clue if you’d be okay.

Genre: Hurt/comfort.

Era: Pre Apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Blood, injuries, allusions to drunk driving, car accident.

Word count: 2.4k.

A/N: A few facts surrounding the rescue is probably not accurate. I didn’t have any internet while writing this so I winged it. Just a quick warning before you read! There are more than likely inaccuracies in this!

“Hey, Dar,” you greeted your husband with a smile, hopping into the old truck Daryl had taken to work for the day. You settled back into the worn leather, letting out a big sigh of relief. You were relieved that the day was over. Being at work at past seven pm should be illegal, you thought to yourself.

Daryl gave you a small smile. “Hey, Peach.” He started up the truck once he saw you were settled and pulled out of the parking lot. “Long day, huh?”

“God, you don’t even know the half of it,” you groaned. It had indeed been a long day; from parent-teacher conferences to meetings you couldn’t care less about, on top of having to break up multiple fights throughout the day, it was safe to say that you were exhausted.

Daryl chuckled and absentmindedly started chewing on his thumbnail as he pulled onto the back road that would make for a faster route back to your apartment than braving the traffic on the highway. “‘Least s’Friday. Two days’a freedom, huh?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Nope. I need to work on some stupid report. All the teachers have to. We need to have it done by Monday.” You sighed and reached for your husband’s hand and interlaced you fingers through his, something you subconsciously did whenever you noticed him chewing on his thumbnail.

Daryl rubbed his thumb over your knuckles affectionately. “Ya’ll be alright. I don’ have anythin’ planned for the weekend anyways so I’mma be at yer beck and call. Anythin’ ya need, okay?”

You smiled at him. However, before you could say anything, the flashing of another car’s lights caught your attention. The car was in the wrong lane; it was beelining straight for Daryl’s truck. “Shit! Daryl, look out!”

Your words barely registered in the air before Daryl was gripping the steering wheel, trying to swerve out of the maniac’s way. However, by doing so, Daryl lost control of the vehicle, and the car swerved away from the road and into the treeline.

The last thing that you remember was an immense feeling of dread. And then...

It all went black.

Daryl gasped as he regained consciousness. His mind was hazy. His head was pounding. His body was aching, and he very quickly became extremely aware of the fact that he was pinned beneath a piece of debris. What had happened? Why the hell wasn’t he at home? Why was he still in his truck? Why was he pinned beneath his truck’s dashboard?

However, as his mind started to catch up with him, he became acutely aware of what had happened. Another car had been driving on the wrong side of the road, forcing him to have to swerve his truck. The same truck Merle had given to him years ago. The same truck he had used to pick you up from work.

Daryl’s eyes widened and he quickly looked over to his right, praying for the first time in his life. However, he had no idea if his prayers were answered when he saw the state you, the love of his life, were in. You were unconscious, with blood noticably gushing in rivers from your head.

“Shit, Y/N!” Daryl called to you hoarsely, a sharp pain shooting through his upper body when he tried to turn and reach you. He probably had a broken rib. A bruised one, if he was that lucky. “Y/N, oh my god. Darlin’? Peach, please wake up,” he called desperately. He tried his hardest to get to you, but with his body being pinned beneath the dashboard, his attempts were proven to be futile.

To say Daryl was terrified would be an understatement. Other than the pain shooting from his ribcage when he tried to move and the incessant pounding in his head, he was relatively fine. You, on the other hand, looked terrible. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that he couldn’t seem to wake you. His mind was wandering to places he didn’t like. He wouldn’t let his mind accept that you were dead. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t survive if you passed away. The mere thought of having to bury you sent his mind into a spiral, and he started hyperventilating. “Oh god, Peach, please talk to me. Please!”

“Sir, please calm down. Everything is going to be alright.”

The sound of someone’s voice had Daryl snapping his head back to look to his left. His cerulean eyes locked with what appeared to be a police officer, two firemen standing next to him. As Daryl’s mind started to process this new bit of information, he realized that a bunch of police vehicles and an ambulance surrounded the area, as well as a few news reporters. Fucking vultures, Daryl thought about the reporters as his eyes flickered back to the police officer. However, in his place, he found two paramedics, carrying a stretcher. Daryl had barely even realized that the dashboard had been lifted from him. However, before the paramedics could lift him onto the stretcher, Daryl was resisting.

“Nah, get her first,” Daryl basically pleaded with the men in front of him. “Get her first. Please. Take care’a her first.”

“Sir, please remain calm. Just focus on your breathing, okay?”

“Get her first!” Daryl exclaimed as he felt his breathing become more erratic. He was pushing the hands of the men off of him. “God, please. Don’ let her die. Please.”

One of the paramedics signalled something over his shoulder, and soon, the door to your side was being pried open and two other paramedics were tending to you and lifting you out of the car and onto a separate stretcher. Daryl let out a sigh of relief. Good. You were being taken care of. He could relax somewhat. However, his relief was short-lived when the paramedics started moving at a more frantic pace, his worry reappeared.

“What? What’s wrong?!” Daryl exclaimed in a panicked tone. Please don’t let her die, Daryl silently begged to whatever higher power was willing to listen to him.

“Sir, please remain calm. We’ll do everything in our power to ensure your wife’s well-being,” one of the paramedics reassured him. He then beckoned the other paramedic closer and together, began to lift Daryl onto his own stretcher.

Daryl didn’t fight back this time. There was no use to do so. You weren’t in the car anymore. You were being wheeled away to the ambulance. His only option at that moment in time was to co-operate. You’d want him to. He knew that.

As he was wheeled into the ambulance—thankfully the same one that you were in—he turned his head to look at you. The sight that beheld him made him want to burst into tears, but he didn’t. He needed to be strong and hope that your stubbornness prevailed in the face of death, that you’d flip death the bird and live to see another few decades.

You had to be fine. You just had to.

“M’not sure. I think it was a blue car? Was definitely a blueish-black car. One’a the headlights had this weird ass green colourin’ to it and the hood had its paint scraped off. Was white underneath, I think. M’sorry. S’all I remember.”

“It’s okay. Every bit of information helps. We’ll try our best to track the perpetrator down,” a police officer—Deputy Henderson or Hallmark or something—told Daryl, sending him his version of a reassuring smile.

To be quite honest, Daryl could hardly believe that he had retained even that slightest bit of information on the asshole that had caused the car wreck. Everything had happened so fast. Everything had gone to hell in a mere second.

Daryl nodded at the officer and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “S’it alright if I go now?”

The deputy nodded in understanding. “We’ll be sure to keep you updated. Go be with your wife.”

With that, Daryl turned around and walked back towards room 207—the room where you were laying unconscious. As Daryl slowly lowered himself into the chair next to your bed, an action he had done since late the previous evening, ever mindful of his bruised ribs—one lucky thing that had come from the accident, a mere bruised rib—and leaned forward to gingerly take your hand in his, and that was the position he stayed in for nearly two hours. According to the doctors, you would be alright. You suffered from a broken leg, a really horrible concussion, multiple bruises and two deep cuts that needed stitches, but you were otherwise okay.

Daryl didn’t believe in miracles, but in that moment, there was no other word that could describe it. You had looked terrible when the paramedics had rolled you into the ambulance, and Daryl had been convinced that the injuries you had sustained would be far more lethal. It was truly a miracle that you had gotten of relatively okay. However, Daryl still got off better than you, and he felt terrible about that. He would much rather have been suffering in that bed in your place than have to witness you he hurt ever again.

“If you think any harder, you’ll burn a hole right through your head.”

Daryl’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. A wave of relief crashed over him, and had it not been for the state you were in, he would have crushed you to him in a hug. However, he settled on tightening his grip on your hand, his cerulean blue eyes staring deeply into your own. “Yer awake,” he whispered, almost disbelievingly.

You nodded and sent him a small smile, albeit a little strained due to the pain that shot through your body when you tried to move. The drugs pumping through your system helped numb most of the pain, but not all of it, however. “I’m awake,” you confirmed, lacing your fingers through his, just like you had done the night before. However, once your eyes focused more, you could see the very prominent bruising on his face and around his eye, making you gasp. “Oh my god, Daryl... What happened?”

Daryl sighed and looked down at the bed, intentionally shielding his injury from you as to not make you worry more. “Car accident,” he began to explain in a quiet tone of voice. “Some asshole was drivin’ in the wrong lane. I had to swerve and then lost control’a the truck. We crashed into a tree.”

You frowned and looked at Daryl in concern. “Are you okay? That bruise—”

Daryl involuntarily let out a small chuckle at your concern. Leave it to you to worry more about other people than yourself, even when you were supposed to worry about yourself. Some things never change. “Yeah, m’fine, Princess. I promise.” Daryl stopped for a moment, swallowing at the lump that formed in his throat, before continuing. “M’so goddamn sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean to cause all’a this.” He gestured to your battered and bruised body for added emphasis. “I was an idiot. I should’a jus’ drove into the other lane. I shouldn’t’a swerved into the fuckin’ treeline. M’so sorry. I—”

“Stop apologizing,” you cut him off with a stern yet gentle voice. “It’s not your fault, you hear me?” Daryl went to protest, but you continued before he could. “It is not your fault. You were placed in an impossible situation and you didn’t have time to think of a plan. You had to act fast, and you did. Imagine if you hadn’t swerved and we collided with that car. We would’ve been worse off. Sure, I’m a little broken and bruised in some places, but I’m fine. I’m alive. There’s absolutely nothing to feel guilty over. You understand?”

Daryl understood. He just didn’t really believe it. However, he wasn’t about to start an argument with you when you were in such a fragile condition. Besides, deep down, Daryl could admit that there was some truth to your words. But he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself until that asshole that caused this was caught for his crimes.

Daryl brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your knuckles. “Okay,” he finally conceded. “M’jus’ real glad yer alive. When I woke up in the truck and saw ya passed out and ya wouldn’t wake up... I thought I had lost ya.” Unwillingly, a few tears fell from your husband’s eyes. He didn’t even notice.

Your heart ached for Daryl. Had the roles been reversed, and he was the one laying in that bed, you’d probably have reacted the same way. You gently rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, silently willing the man to look at you. “I’m here. It’s gonna take a whole lot more than that to take me away from you, I promise.” When Daryl didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to attempt to lighten up the air. You could tell your husband needed a distraction. “You think they’ll give me an extension on that report? I’m not gonna have it done by Monday.”

By some stroke of luck, that had managed to get a small smile from Daryl. He shook his head and looked at you affectionately. “If they don’t give ya that extension, m’personally gonna shoot each and every one’a ‘em.”

You chuckled and sent him a small smile. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Daryl’s smile turned more genuine at your words. “I love ya more, Sunshine.” Before you could respond with your typical “impossible” or “I love you the most”, Daryl’s phone rang. It was the deputy from earlier. Frowning, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

You couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but if Daryl’s suddenly relieved facial expression was anything to go off of, it was good news. The conversation was short and to the point, and when the call ended, you spoke up. “Who was that?”

“Was the deputy,” Daryl explained, a small smile on his face. “They got the son of a bitch.”

You smiled at him and beckoned him over for a hug. Daryl complied and very gently, almost as if you’d break under any sort of pressure, hugged you. Sure, the two of you would have to go and identify the man they had captured’s car, but there was no doubt in Daryl’s mind that the man responsible would soon be behind bars. For once, the legal system hadn’t failed him. You’d get the justice you deserve.

And for the first time since everything had gone down, Daryl was at peace.

[danosrosegarden]

Edward Nashton mommy kink…? Having a big soft mommy with soft warm titties for him to hold and kiss and suck? Bury his face in while he cries about how much he loves them, how badly he wants to be their good boy, how he holds them just a bit too tight when they call him their sweet bunny, so good for them. Accidentally biting the supple mounds of flesh to stifle his own pretty noises he’s oh so embarrassed about, until they have him fucked so stupid he can barely form a coherent sentence between all the snot and tears.

this is heaven and i'd die for it - edward nashton x fem!reader headcanons (NSFW) ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

kinktober 2024: 1/31

{contents ♡ mommy kink, plus size reader, titty loving, praise}

{word count ♡ ~900}

♡ edward, upon first inspection, was a fog-shrouded mystery. he seemed to materialize in and out of the diner you frequented like a wandering ghost. his cool, quiet presence brushed against your skin and made you insatiably curious. who was this guy? you'd seen him nearly every evening you were there. the eyes cast down and fixed frown were just puzzles to be put into place. some strange voice inside of you was saying he was worth knowing.

♡ he sputtered and turned pink the first time you scooched next to him and asked him who he was. to watch him fumble over recalling his own name, to see his brain scramble and scatter as you smiled at the spattering of blush burning on his skin...it was just cute. he was cute.

♡ and he was a wonderful guy to lavish in attention. so easily flustered by any kind of compliment. at your beck and call to stutter through his sentences as you bat your eyes at him, nodding with interest, humming in agreement. if you hadn't grown so obsessed with him over all the diner dates and late night phone calls, you would've seen it as utterly pathetic. lucky for you both, that's exactly what you liked.

♡ you'd thought about what it might be like, to be with eddie like that. to get to see him stripped raw and bare, to get to brush and dip your fingers into his most vulnerable state. you'd tested the waters and given him a kiss on the cheek as a farewell stamp when leaving his apartment one night, and from the way all the color poured out of his skin, you thought for sure he was going to cry and vomit and maybe explode. there was no possible way you were going to get to have sex without him bursting into flames. and you were perfectly fine with it--it was an honor to love the elusive edward as is. he just wasn't ready for that yet.

♡ so it takes you by surprise one weekend morning when his hands begin to wander. he'd been hesitant to share his space with you, but once you'd crawled into bed with him and he felt the soft plush of your body pressed up against his own, he was hooked. he'd been a koala from every day you spent at his place onward, his hands latched tight onto the curve of your hips.

♡ it was surprising because it was edward, and it took him ample time for him to be up to anything new. it was surprising because it felt safe, the gentle warmth of his touch. it had been branded into your brain by now, this searing notion that the thick and the marks and the rolls and the extra were to be hidden. so when eddie's roaming hands touched them all with such special care and appreciation, it was difficult to know what to say.

♡ maybe that's what was so intimately good about this whole web you'd woven together. there really was no need to say anything at all.

♡ you give him a satisfied hum as his hands brush up and down your sensitive sides, and he nuzzles his face into your shoulder.

♡ thank you, mommy.

♡ huh? hello?

♡ you cock your head to the side and see his cheeks flush like you've never seen them flush before. "fuck, sorry." his hands ungrip themselves from your skin and ghost above you, his fingers trembling wildly. god, he looks as if he's really going to faint.

♡ it takes a moment to convince him that no, he has nothing to apologize for. you liked it. it sounded good dripping from his mouth. say it again, eddie? for me?

♡ okay, he's dying for real this time when you hike up your shirt and guide his hand to your chest.

♡ you let him play for a little while. the stimulation of his thumbs rubbing circles on your nipples feels good, but he's clearly enjoying it even more than you are. he's inching his head closer towards you and it's almost laughable how clear what he wants is.

♡ his quiet, content hums are silenced when you take your thumb and place it on his lower lip, opening his mouth.

♡ "let me see it, love."

♡ his eyes gleam with puppydog obedience as he lets his tongue out and you guide his mouth to you. one hand goes up to pet his head and the other goes down to rub him gently through his pants. there you go, sweetie. that's a good boy. there's my good boy.

♡ he's already circling his hips around as he sucks at you needily, silently begging for more. you feel the vibrations of his groans on your skin. such a sweet boy for me. you like making mommy feel good?

♡ every once in awhile, he'll unlatch from your chest to look at you with his glossy eyes, pupils blossoming with adoration. thank you, mommy. you look so pretty, mommy. so, so good to me.

♡ if only he could see how pretty he looked like this, with his hips bucking and his eyes glazed over and his tongue rolled out. all for you. to capture edward's attention and amazement was something you'd never be able to fully break away from. and in that moment, it felt like heaven.

[loftylockjaw]

[pm] But you are takin' care of them. Even if you ain't under the same roof no more... and you gotta be allowed to live your own life, right? They can't expect you to be at their beck and call forever. Besides, you got folks here that need you, now. Sometimes found family is worth more than blood.

To touch on elaboratin', I guess I should. I mean I guess I should be honest. But if I gotta go easier on myself, then you probably do, too.

I was supposed to be there for 'em, just like you're sayin' 'bout yours. And I was doin' my best to help provide, cuz I knew money was tight... worked in the family restaurant for free of course, but on weeknights and weekends my older cousin would take me to these fights. Like the ones I do now, you know? Secret fights where I could really show folks what I was capable of. They made pretty decent money, and I gave it all to mamá. Told her I had a gig deliverin' goods or somethin' for some corner store. Never did tell her the truth, but I think she figured it out anyway. But the money was always a lot better than I thought, my cousin was just lyin' to me n' keepin' most of it for himself. I was just a kid, you know... got started when I was eleven, didn't really figure shit was crooked for 'bout six years. When I found out, I flipped. Beat him, maybe to death, I dunno. I knew him since I was born, Mateo. He was family, he n' his folks lived with us when we moved into the city. Couldn't go back to 'em after that. Didn't figure they'd believe me, I guess... I dunno. I was a stupid teenager. So I just ran. Then weeks turned to months, turned to years. I miss 'em somethin' fierce but I'm too much of a coward to go back. Well, that n' now I literally can't leave this shithole of a town, so... yay.

[pm] Well, if you ever wanna elaborate, you know I can do complicated. And I want to. For you.

Well, my mistakes are complicated. Kinda rebelled and followed what I wanted to do without thinking about what my family needed. I mean, I'm over a thousand miles away from them and left them when they asked me to stay. I'm supposed to take care of them. Of the people I love. That's what I do.

A mistake when you were a kid? If you ask me, that's what kids do. Maybe I'm biased, but you should be easier on yourself.

[kingkatsuki]

I’ve got sugar daddy Bakugou on my mind. Just him trying to convince you to let him take care of you. All you have to do is be at his beck and call. He’ll pay for whatever you want. He’s got that big hero money. Get you a nice apartment, pay for school or help your small business. Wanna go have a girls weekend at the beach? Sure just send him pics of you in that cute swimsuit he bought you. All you have to do is let him dress you up for every stupid hero event and scream as loud as possible when he fucks you in one of the empty rooms. If he’s had a long day maybe rub his scalp with those nails he paid for while you warm his cock.

I love that so much, Pro-Hero Bakugou doesn’t have the time to commit to a full time relationship so this kind of arrangement suits him perfectly. It’s just enough to keep his PR team off his back and it quenches the medias thirst for a story about why he’s been single for so long and the rumours that fly around about secret relationships. All it takes is a few interviews (paid of course) to the biggest magazines and it’s enough to keep them off his back until the next social engagement. The few interviews where he talks about you have the internet in a flurry about how they can tell how much he loves you with the look in his eyes when he talks about you, and how perfect you both look together. The mean comments dull in comparison, with bitter fans calling you a gold digger, or saying you’re too young for him.

Of course, Bakugou acts like you don’t see these interviews or comments, that you don’t know about them- but you do. You can’t help the ridiculous smile that graces your features whenever you read them or watch him talk about you. Neither of you had ever said the proper “I love yous” outside of the quick “love you” you’d send him whenever he’d buy you a cute new necklace or pay for your morning coffee. The importance you put in it being him that picked what colour your nails would be for this session because they would be wrapped around his cock. Showing him the shortlist of colours for him to pick from, sometimes he’d request his own shade, wanting to see you in his hero colours. That silent show of possession over you, he knew other men were looking at you- who wouldn’t? But you were his, at least for now. Smirking when you’d send him the finished product and see his hero colours staring back at him. His cock throbbing between his thighs at the thought of them wrapped around him.

It was something Bakugou didn’t realise he was missing in his life until he sought you out. Getting those texts from you first thing in the morning or late at night that showed you were thinking about him, texts throughout the day with selfies or pictures of you in cute outfits that had him smiling as he sat behind his desk at work, or even funny memes you found that you thought he would appreciate. It was never supposed to be anything serious, but soon the thought of losing you hurt more than anything else. It was something that continued to keep him up at night, even when you slept so soundly beside him. Your head against his muscular pec, even though his body had rounded out in his older years, the skin marred with scars of war and messy blond hairs, he was still in pretty good shape. Bakugou didn’t ever want to think of not having you in his life anymore.

What if you finally got bored of the money and no longer had to pay your bills/tuition? What if you wanted to find a proper relationship and you gave all of this up? What if he’d never see you again? These thoughts were on a constant circle in his mind— thoughts that a few years ago wouldn’t have even phased him? But now they did. And it was all because of you.

[harrieatthemet]

Park

I’m baaaaaaack!

In which you take a phone call and Harry can’t do this anymore.

This is uncomfortable.

Not that he’s the bragging type, but he’s been to his fair share of new places. And with new places come a fresh panel of strangers, different energies in a room, new scenery even. He’s seen a lot, been around and experienced enough, so he likes to think that there’s no social scenario that can off put him.

But he was very, very, wrong. And he can’t believe that he had even suggested the idea.

“Could be good fo’ her,” he insisted, “y’know?”

And yes, you did know. In fact you had been keen on the idea for a while and it was him, up until now, who had been adamantly pushing back against the suggestion of inviting in a new chapter. The ‘co-parenting chapter’ not so fondly known by him.

“I love that idea!” and just getting you to agree with him on something made his stomach flutter, which is likely what prompted him to suggest it in the first place.

It’s exactly what landed him here, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. One hand is stuffed awkwardly in his pocket, fingers mindlessly pushing around a piece of lint from the wash. The other has his camera, thumb locked and loaded, so any time Angel Baby decides to look cute (which is always, that’s why he’s got an entire cupboard full of processed digital photos) he’s prepared to eternally document it.

You had set it up nice. Very artistic in a vintage kind of way, that’s what he told you when he met you at the park. And he liked that you packed that Barbie doll angel baby loves, the one that’s been ridden hard and long and was missing a foot.

“She’s gotten bigger,” he mused, a shameless attempt to break the silence.

“Bigger than when she was with you last Thursday?”

He had almost forgotten she’d slept over at Anne’s with him the weekend before. Days in between his time with Angel Baby felt like painfully long, drawn out weeks. A fear of his, regardless of whether or not it was realistic, was that for every minute he spent in separation from her she’d have gotten a little taller or a little older. She’d lose a tooth and he couldn’t play tooth fairy, or she’d have a nightmare and he couldn’t be the one to hold her tight to his chest so she felt safe enough to fall back asleep.

“Everything going good?” Your uppity tone makes his neck twirl to look at you, “like, you know, with the music and the new album?”

He can appreciate you taking interest in his work, and he doesn’t care if you’re just trying to make small talk as the two of you look on at Angel Baby collecting random blades of grass. He’d like to think you’re feeling just as awkward as he is. Are your palms clammy too? He’s wondering if you have that weird, knotted pit in your stomach like he does.

“Yeah,” he nods, “mhm, all good, goin’ real well. S’a process ‘nd all.”

He feels stupid. What a stupid answer, especially because you say nothing back to him and the conversation went right to the graveyard and buried itself 6 feet under.

There was a time where conversations never were like this between the two of you. In fact, they were some of the very best times of his life to date. Not one moment would pass by where the two of you weren’t chatting about something, usually nothing at all really. The banter would ramble on and on. And talking to you felt easy, comforting even, like he had a soundboard to voice off of and a partner who never tired in stimulating his thought process. It never felt like this, like it does right now; forced, uncomfortable, dreary and even a little sad.

“Daddy,” Angel Baby’s voice comes to him in a wave of sing-song, paired with a big grin, “play princesses with me!”

There’s next to nothing in this world that she could ask of him where he wouldn’t immediately agree to her. He’s fully at her Beck and call. No was a word she seldom heard come from Harry, so naturally he agrees.

“I’m gonna answer this call,” and he fights off the frown creeping up on him as he sees your face light up at the caller ID, “do you mind?”

Reluctantly, he shakes his head in a way affirmative enough for you to practically skip off. And when you’re far enough away, out of earshot beneath the shards refuge of an old tree, he lets out the disappointed sigh he’d been swallowing.

“Daddy,” angel baby’s tone is melancholy, frowning as she places her face directly in front of Harry’s, “you’re sad.”

“Sad?” He inquires playfully, though forced, “m’not sad, poppet. Couldn’t be sad when y’with me.”

She doesn’t want to giggle when Harry’s like this, all down in the mouth and out of his element. The two of them are almost alarmingly in sync with one another. When he feels a certain way she never fails to tap into it, like a weird sort of telepathic type of connection. But she can’t ward off the shrill of a belly laugh that bubbles out of her, serene music to Harry’s ears, when he grazes his fingers atop her belly to start tickling her.

“Who was that?”

He doesn’t know why he asked, because that’s rude. And if you don’t tell him, he has to understand that it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to share. He’s not in the position to be invasive anymore, it was a privilege he surrendered when he put his signature on the divorce papers. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to know, just for the sake of curiosity.

“What?”

“On the phone,” he repeats, tone a little more shy, “sorry, was rude of me t’ask.”

“Oh,” your nervous laugh was enough of an answer in itself, “just my sister.”

For all the years you’ve known him, shared a bed with him, woke up in the morning and fell asleep at night with him, if not for the fact that the product of your love for one another was sat beside him eating a cookie and brushing the hair of an American Girl Doll, he’d have liked to think you’d know he’d realize you were lying.

There’s no sense in pressing you though, so he doesn’t. Anymore detail you provided would just be twisting the knife.

He’s bitten off more than he could chew. There was no sufficient amount of mirror pep talks or hours worth of phone calls to his mother that could have prepared him for this. The only time the two of you had really spent together post divorce, before his lackluster suggestion of a family picnic, was at Angel Baby’s birthday party three months ago. Even than, it was chalk full of other people to mingle with and not just the intangible concept of the family unit he had just a year ago.

This is too fucking hard.

“I can’t do this.” He breaths it out almost all in one word, “I really just.. can’t”

He doesn’t want to disappoint Angel Baby, but if he doesn’t leave now he very well may cause a scene in front of the few stray bystanders loitering in the park. So he sturdiest himself up until he can crouch down, stroking the top of Angel Baby’s head before finishing with a long kiss to the part of her hair.

“Can you stay,” she whines, jutting her lip to really put an emphasis on her begging?, “just 3 more!”

He has to refuse, though he wishes he could just tough it out for her. He can’t though, and while you’re bewildered for a minute, a good look at the expression on his face tells you exactly why he’s in such a rush to book it to his car.

“You can stay,” you insist, to which Angel Baby violently nods in agreement, “and we can walk to the edge of the pond to-“

“I can’t” and now his voice is completely defeated, “(Y/N), I really can’t,”

You let out a defeated, solemn sigh, “Harry we talked about this. It’s not gonna be easy but with time-“

“S’never gonna ease with time,” and now he’s getting up to leave, “m’trying but I just can’t, this is too hard,”

And as excruciatingly hard as it was to play his role in the united family forefront bit, something he used to never have to force, walking away with his back to you was even harder.

This, all of it, is just too fucking hard.

[clavdialxpez]

thank you baby, it’s just that dumb after drinking sick and anxious shit. nothing i’m not used to. i don’t feel actually anxious just like physically anxious? i don’t know man, so stupid. no girl i am so excited! i really thought i was gonna be able to go with scheduling and tickets being sold out but Britt invited me this weekend and i am so excited -i still have no clue what i’m wearing though. oh no, i know my party buddy becks is gonna be right there with me living it up on sunday!  i wouldn’t let him change you!  i’m happy for ya’ darlin’, he seems nice. he seems good for you. cupid did his thing.

if anyone catches me sleeping on the floor anywhere over the next few days please just don’t kick me

[kashimos-hajime]

pretty face on a pretty neck | b.b.

summary: they aren’t fucking dating. not fucking friends, either. no, bucky just fucks romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works. and sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

WARNINGS: a tiny bit of smut (18+), fingering, choking, swearing, drinking, brief mentions of cheating, bucky’s just really fucking jealous, mentions of a shitty relationship and self-doubt from it, the dark knight spoilers, fluffy end!! pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader, brief steve rogers x fem!reader lmaoo  word count: 5.5k

a/n: this is a cute lil piece written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​​​​​​! my prompt was “you called me, remember?” inspired by kiwi by harry styles. 

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

You weave through the crowd, glistening like some glazed dessert that he can’t wait to get his mouth on. Your lips are shining with a swipe of that sweet lipgloss he loves to suck off and you’re wearing that black dress.

The black dress. Shorter than short, showing every inch of skin yet not enough.

You toss your head back, exposing that neck that he loves to bite to Steve who grins, glad his joke landed. Stifling a scowl, Bucky grabs his scotch and throws it back, desperate not to grab you and throw you into a stall just to mark you up as his.

You had made him promise, after all. No socialization outside their little nightcap sessions that often lead to… well, Bucky’s game for anything really.

A cigarette is pinched between your lips and Steve helps you light it with a flick of his lighter, the burning embers glowing in the dark, seedy bar. Leaning on the bar counter, you talk to Sam wiping down his station and he nods, eyes dragging over your face and Bucky cannot tear his gaze away as Sam pours you three shots of vodka. You blow out a lungful of smoke, cigarette pinched between two fingers before glancing at Steve and making some sort of bet, based on the way your lips curl.

They go down like water, dripping down your chin and you laugh when Steve wipes it off your collarbones before he grabs your chin and smashes his lips against yours. You immediately reciprocate, mouth opening as he bends you over the bar, his hair golden and his hand trailing up your thigh.

“Fucker,” Bucky mutters, finally managing to rip his gaze away. A heat blazes through his stomach.

Stupid fucking party for damn Romanoff’s birthday. Sometimes he hates being some of the oldest friends that redhead knows. It makes him feel creepy, wading through a sea of college students that are only one or two years younger than him. Steve himself is finishing his last year, so he’s sure he doesn’t share Bucky’s plight of feeling old.

He wishes he could just approach you and ask to leave, pin you against the wall of his apartment, take you like he knows Steve’s going to later, but he can’t.

You aren’t fucking dating. Not fucking friends, either.

No, Bucky just fucks Romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works.

And sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

“Not enjoying yourself, James?” Birthday Girl Romanoff asks, appearing at his shoulder and he turns to her, shifting in his seat.

“Steve’s too busy chatting up your friend for me to do anything,” he replies, keeping his tone light and Romanoff glances at where Steve’s made his way to kissing up your neck, your fingers carded through his hair.

“Give him a break,” Romanoff says. “They both need to get laid.”

“You don’t think she’s getting laid?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Every fucking guy I’ve met has said they wanted to get with her at least once.”

“Sounding a bit jealous over someone you claim to hate, James,” the redhead teases, sipping on her mojito with raised eyebrows.

“I’m just saying. All the boys were saying they were into it.”

“And you?”

“She’s… a brat.”

“Seems to me that you’re into that,” she hums, leaning on his shoulder. “Honestly, it would’ve been better if you two met before her and her stupid boyfriend did. Ever since she moved in with Rumlow…” The woman trails off and Bucky absently fills in the blanks, she’s faked every single orgasm she’s had with him. “I don’t know. He’s a fucking prick. Doesn’t treat her like she deserves.”

“Does he—“

“No. Just… never a priority, is she? Why else is she here alone?” Natasha pauses, as if debating how much to tell him, then adds, “Then he gets all pissy about where she’s been. On his beck and call, isn’t she?”

“Asshole,” Bucky replies distantly. Steve has his hand basically up your dress and he watches as your legs pull him closer, your lips running along the shell of his ear. “You’re endorsing your best friend cheating on her boyfriend, you know, when we could just be beating him up”

“Hey. She said she was going to break up with him. I can’t make those choices up for her and I’m not about to land any of my friends in jail trying to be my ride or dies.” Romanoff shrugs, glancing at her friend. “Besides, she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does she? It’s not like she can move into my dorm or move back into her parents across the country.” Bucky watches as you hook your legs around Steve’s waist and he hoists you into his arms, disappearing into the crowd.

By the direction, Bucky can guess the destination and some distant part of his head whispers, She could move in with me.

“Might want to avoid the bathrooms for a while,” he comments and Romanoff snorts, the ice crackling by her straw as she stirs her drained glass.

“I’m going to go get laid, too,” she replies frankly. “Don’t stay brooding in the corner, Barnesy-bear. Your face is one worthy of being sat on.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the redhead slips into the crowd and Bucky gets up, plucking his jacket and leaving the bar. His pants are tight with the thought of your mouth and the sound of your gasping breaths echoing in his ear. The feeling of your fingers scratching down his back makes him roll his shoulders back as he flags a cab.

So what if you’re fucking Steve?

It’s not like he’s exclusive with you.

He can’t fault his best friend for having excellent fucking taste.

As he enters the cab and tells the driver his address, he wonders how the fuck someone like Rumlow snagged the title as your boyfriend when there are so many other options.

Steve being one, but he’s still living on-campus.

Bucky doesn’t want to say it, but maybe he, with his own apartment and steady job and intimate knowledge of your desires and interests and needs, is the other.

.

It’s two weeks later when he finally sees you again, at Romanoff’s birthday function at the beach. Something with closer friends, in broad daylight at a beach house Romanoff’s parents own. She and Sam are already there by the time Bucky gets there, unpacking in rooms for a weekend stay.

“Take any room you like,” Romanoff calls from upstairs and Bucky does so, choosing one of the few rooms on the main floor just as another figure walks in.

“I’m here, Nat!” Your voice echoes against wooden walls as Bucky pokes his head out of his room to see you there. He doesn’t know whether he should feel guilty or not that he’s glad Steve hasn’t sated your hunger when you show up alone, shorts riding up your thighs and a t-shirt that is so sheer it does nothing to conceal the bikini top you wear beneath it. “I’m taking my usual room.”

“Fine with me!”

With that, you walk down the hall, eyes meandering over the living room and kitchen. Bucky’s throat closes up when you walk past the stairs to stop at his room and you smirk all saccharine at him.

“Hey, Barnes.”

He scans your face for a moment. “You came. Thought you’d still be sucking Steve’s face off like you were back at the bar. Or… sucking his dick. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Well, that was a one-off thing. Heat of the moment,” you dismiss, leaning against his door frame and he hates the way you look against the wood. Makes something in him stir, makes the blood run hot and his mind focus on one image in particular.

“What’d your boyfriend say when he saw your neck fucking marked up?” he asks, uncaring of the thin ice he stands upon. You frown, arms crossing.

“I was careful,” you reply tightly, “and I didn’t let him leave any marks.”

Bucky can’t help the small flash of satisfaction at hearing that. “You’re not careful with me. I like seeing your neck tatted up with it,” he comments, his hand twitching to wrap around your throat as he lifts his finger to trace the soft, pulsing vein along your neck. You tilt your chin up, eyes narrowing with amusement.

“I’m not yours, Barnes.”

“What you say tells me differently, princess.” Dropping his hand to grab your wrist, he pulls you into his room and slams the door shut, pinning you against it with a harsh push. You exhale sharply, the breath pushing out of your lungs as your bags drop with a disant thump. His senses zero in on everything about you, the light scent of the sunblock smeared into your skin, the cotton twisting beneath his fist as his other hand finds your neck on its own accord. “You’ve been distant lately, kitten.”

He can feel your racing pulse against his palm as you smirk, hands wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against you. Every inch of his skin is pressed against yours as you hike a leg up onto his hip. His hand at your waist immediately goes to cup it and you loop your arms around his neck innocently.

“I’ve had a lot of work to do. Brock and I…” You let out a soft hum as if to ponder but he knows it’s just to piss him off, “spent some time alone. Romantic trip out of town. Then, I had other things to do.”

“Did you?” It’s not a question Bucky wants answered as you nod demurely, lips twisted into a smirk. He wants nothing more than to yank your shorts down, spin you around, and have you screaming his name as he takes you again and again. He’s been blue balled for two weeks and you haven’t answered any of his calls.

Now, he knows why.

“So, that stupid boyfriend of yours was with you, huh?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he leans in close. He can taste the vodka in your mouth still, the vodka he never got to taste two weeks before in a bar, along with something fruity. Your gum, maybe, or an orange that you sucked clean off its peel. “And then what? Did you hop off after you faked your way through a few nights with him and head for Steve’s? Hm?”

“Temper, temper, James,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. His entire body is alight, every nerve shooting sensations through his limbs as your fingers curl against the nap of his neck. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Jealous, yeah.” His hand on your thigh trails up and inward, sneaking past the hem of your shorts as you lower your leg to hook on his calf, pulling him infinitely closer. His dick is pressing against his swim shorts, completely obvious and painfully hard against your navel as he shifts his hips just enough to let his hand sneak further up your shorts. “Why would I be jealous?”

His fingers find the silky slip of your bikini bottom and brush over the junction of your hip, smirking at the tremble he can feel course through your body.

“You wanted me that night at the bar,” you whisper as he slowly trails deeper inward. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

“Who didn’t, hm?” He smirks when you turn your face away, biting your lip at his fingers dancing around a spot already slickening with anticipation. “C’mon, princess. You telling me you didn’t wear that black dress for me? Look at me.”

You refuse and he rubs his thumb into the side of your neck, dipping his head to bite at your collarbones.

“Look at me, princess,” he whispers, lifting his head to see your defiant gaze meeting his. “Tell me the truth about the black dress.”

“I didn’t wear it for you,” you bite back softly, “to fuck me in.” His hand tightens, just barely around your neck and your eyes flutter shut. Oh, how badly he wants to ravage your lips, lock you in this room and just take you in every way you want…

“Trying to make me jealous, kitten?” he rasps as your hips roll against his dick and you bite your lip, chin tilting up as your nails dig into his skin. Because it worked.

“So what if I was?”

“Then, you’re going to have to pay for it.” He spins you around and moves to shove his shorts just past his hips. You let out a sharp exhale at the pressure of his hand against the back of his neck, your hands pressed flat against the door. “You got anything to say for yourself, princess?”

His swim shorts fall and he tugs your shorts down just past your ass, tracing the smooth curve of it with an arrogant curve to his lip. His lips find your neck, nipping lightly before raising to your ear.

“I asked you a question.” His hand lands on your ass, kneading it with warm, familiar fingers and his words are a warning. In the silence, he can almost hear you rolling your eyes, struggling not to moan when he feathers smooth skin, tempts you with tiny brushes between the legs.

“You gonna keep talking, Barnes, or you gonna prove a point?”

His fingers hook on your bikini bottom, pulling the elastic away with an amused grin before letting it snap back against your skin.

“I don’t know. Are you gonna continue being a fucking brat?” He squeezes your neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you almost seem to melt against the door before he drags those bikini bottoms down too. Rolling his hips flush against your ass, he smirks when you shudder and try to thrust him in with a messy jerk back. “Aw, did you miss this?”

“Wouldn’t miss a thing about you,” you reply but it comes out strangled as his other hand wraps around your hip, travels down your navel. It wraps around your waist, keeps you tight against him as you smother his wrist between the door and your hips. When his fingers find your bud, you let out a soft sigh at the pressure he begins to rub into you and he smirks, biting the shell of your ear.

“C’mon, princess. You can admit it if you like,” he murmurs. Your fingers dig into the wood as you try to push yourself—in what direction, away from his hand, towards it, Bucky doesn’t know. He reaches farther down, fingers tracing through slick heat and he chuckles huskily against your skin, biting lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “‘S that all for me?”

“Shut up,” you growl. Your eyes flash to him and he pushes you flush against the door, your head falling back against his shoulder as cock nestles itself between your cheeks. So close, not quite there. His hand on your neck travels forward, crooking inward and his fingers wrap around a silky neck from the front. He can feel every beat of your heart, the raspy whistle of your breathing. Lips falling to your exposed neck, Bucky sucks marks he knows are going to last if he doesn’t stop himself soon but two weeks has been two weeks too long— “Barnes.”

“Relax… it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper fuck.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Needy brat.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers work at a languid pace inside you. He knows every nook and cranny, every angle that brings you euphoria and he grinds his palm against your clit with every thrust, arrogant smile growing when you melt back onto his shoulder, lips slightly parted.

“Don’t have time for foreplay,” you finally manage to croak and you turn to look at him, eyes surprisingly clear for having his fingers in your soaking heat and working you up a steady incline.

“It’s the fucking beach, kitten. They won’t be in a rush to get anywhere.” Your lips are tantalizing up close and he chuckles, fingers pressing gently into your pulse. “How quiet can you be?”

“Try me,” you breathe, chest heavy and eyes filling with assured focus, “bitch.”

Challenge accepted.

Nudging your legs ever so lightly apart, he is about to push in. He can feel your heart beating through your back, a quick, racing drum and your breasts heave with every anticipating breath.

“James! Y/N! Wanna meet Steve at the beach?”

Natasha’s voice breaks the humid tension like a hot knife through butter, and your eyes fly open as if you’ve risen from a trance and he growls, not quite moving yet.

To say nothing raises suspicion.

He hates it here.

“Sure!” Bucky yells back right into your ear, much to your displeasure and he shrugs, trying to repress the smirk as his hand drops and playfully squeezes your breast. You return with a subtle nip to his jaw and he steps back. Your shoulders drop and you turn around, leaning against the door with a soft, condescending smile. Your eyes are blown with a mistiness and your thighs press together as he sucks his fingers clean. Your gaze narrows, he smirks with glee.

“What was that about not being in a rush to get anywhere?” you ask, dismissively sweeping your gaze up and down his body before grabbing your pants and pulling them up. His eyes follow the slow trail of the fabric and he sighs softly between parted lips. “Play one of those audios I know you’ve got on your phone. Can’t ever get enough of me, can you, soldier boy?”

“Don’t put yourself on a pedestal, princess.”

“I’m not.” You pick up your bags and open the door, letting cool sea wind sweep into the room that was cloudy with heat and lust. He can’t help the smile that digs into his cheeks despite how disappointed he is as you shrug innocently. You play the part so well. “It’s just the facts.”

Not for the first time, Bucky is left with the thought that Rumlow doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

.

It’s near the end of the month, the very last day. The thirty-first of May.

You broke up with your stupid boyfriend three days ago. He knows because he looked at your Instagram only to find all the pictures with him gone.

But he wasn’t stalking. He was just…

Curious.

Also, Natasha FaceTimed him and Steve, ranting all about it. So, he came upon this naturally.

Not stalking at all.

“Hey.” Bucky’s lying flat on his bed, naked and the sheets are too warm as he hears you pick up with a disgruntled sigh. “You awake?”

“Am now.” You don’t sound too heartbroken but your voice is a bit thicker than he remembers as you sniff. “What do you want?”

“Are you sick?”

“No, I was crying.”

He arches an eyebrow at your blunt response but doesn’t continue that line of interrogation. “Where are you staying?”

“Why does it matter to you? What do you want?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, princess,” he replied dryly. “But if you’re on the streets, I can come pick you up.”

“I’m not on the streets,” you reply sharply in a way that makes Bucky doubt your words. “But fine. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Princess,” he begins but you cut him off.

“I just needa pack some things. See you in twenty.”

You hang up without another word. He lets his cellphone drop with a heavy sigh, sitting up and pulling on some boxers and some ratty old university hoodie.

It’s another fifteen minutes before there’s a knock on the door and he moves from the kitchen to the door, abandoning the orange juice he poured to pass the time. Swinging open the door to reveal that pretty face, he smirks to hide the concerned expression threatening to overtake his face. You look like hell, heavy eye bags and a wariness that he’s not used to seeing on your bold face. You’ve got luggage by your legs and a backpack is strapped to you as you regard him.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

“You called me, remember?” you reply dryly. He steps aside, inviting you in. Walking in, toeing off your sneakers, and shedding your jacket, you let your backpack drop as Bucky pulls your luggage in. “Woke me up and everything.”

“Yeah, I bet I woke you up from your beauty sleep,” he snorts and you roll your eyes as his eyes trail over the dull skin of your shoulders, the limpness of your hair. He closes the door behind him, an unfamiliar tug pulling at his stomach. “Your boyfriend didn’t even give you time to find a new place?”

“No. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Just a guy you used to fuck on occassion who couldn’t even make you come,” he says sagely and you sigh, rolling your eyes again.

“Are you describing yourself?” The words make blue eyes flash to meet yours and you smirk at the dangerous warning glimmering in his irises. Cocking your head, you shrug and lean against his dining table. “So, what do you want?”

“Why do I ever call you here if it isn’t for fucking you, huh, princess?” he muses, but even he can’t find the reason anymore. Whatever libido he was housing had melted in the time between you hanging up and you arriving at his apartment. As you stand before him, his blue eyes flicker from your exhausted face to the way your body seems strung out and on high alert. He sighs, too. “I didn’t want you in some seedy motel where the locks don’t work and the concierge is probably on the registered sex offender’s list. That sound good enough for you?”

You smile, the only thing familiar about you, and it sends a wave of relief through him. “Being nice isn’t your colour, Barnes.”

“Go take a shower,” he retorts, plucking your bag from the floor by your feet and he notices you don’t protest when he grabs your jacket and throws it in the hamper. “Then, we’ll talk.”

“Fine.” You’re unnaturally obedient as you head silently for the bathroom and he brings your luggage to the living room, setting it by the couch and laying it flat. Unzipping it quickly, he grabs the clean clothes he can find right off the bat and goes into his room to put them on his bed so you can grab them as soon as you come out. You’re standing in his bathroom, shedding your tank top and he grabs some clean towels.

It’s a strangely intimate silence as he offers you the towels and you dip your head in thanks. He can see the beginnings of a bruise on your bicep and he reaches tenderly for it, fingers barely brushing your skin.

“Did he—” The anger comes unbridled, hot and heavy and dark, in his voice and you don’t even jerk out of his touch. You’re completely relaxed in his presence as you look at your reflection in the mirror, so unlike a few minutes before when you’d been a ball of tension and you shake your head. His thumb gently digs into your skin and he can feel the pulsing heat of it. It’s fresh. Not even a day old, probably.

“No. I was walking and it was dark. Guy was coming out of a cab and didn’t see me standing there. Got whacked by the door,” you assure, pulling your arm out of his loose hold. Unbuttoning your pants, you continue to undress as he stands there, eyebrows knitting together. The air is wrought with an energy he’s unfamiliar with and he withdraws but your hand reaches for his wrist. Wide eyes dart to your face and he’s shocked by the surprisingly soft smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, uh, sure. Hungry?”

You let go of his wrist and his skin is tingling. He rubs at it absently as you nod, your strange smile ever present. “Starving.”

“I’ll whip you something to eat.”

As he’s stirring Kraft Dinner around in a bowl, he listens to the shower run and thinks.

Or doesn’t think.

Time seems to pass in such a strange way. He’s cooking for you and you’re in his shower and nothing about this is normal or something he’s used to, but it’s not something he hates.

The shower turns off just as he’s sliding the mac into a bowl and he pours you a glass of water before finishing his own abandoned cup of orange juice.

Your footfalls are light and you smell like his shampoo as you sit down at his kitchen island, clad in the clothes he laid out for you.

“It’s just some Kraft I had lying around,” he says uneasily, pushing the bowl towards you but you take it anyway with a shrug and a easygoing smile. You look more awake after the shower and colour has worked its way back into your lips. There’s new life in your eyes as you eat and Bucky, satisfied, heads for the couch just to watch whatever’s on until you’re done.

Everything seems so strange, mundane, almost… domestic as you eat, scroll your phone, and he watches The Dark Knight just because it’s on. He watches the movie blindly, his mind still going a mile a minute and his body unintentionally becoming attune to yours in a way he only knows with when he’s fucking you.

But now, he knows how you move, knows when you’re putting your bowl in the sink and knows when you’re walking towards him by the way his heart starts beating just a millisecond quicker, the gentle give of his couch as you sit down beside him. Your eyes burn into his cheek and he glances at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Come here,” he allows, lifting his arm from the pillow and you scoot closer, pulling the pillow into your lap and hugging it tight. He rests his arm along the back of the couch. “You didn’t die of food poisoning. Pity.”

“You’d have to be truly something to fuck up Kraft Dinner, Barnes,” you reply dryly, smirking at him and he suppresses a snort as you tuck your knees up. “It was good. Although, I hope you’re not living off of that stuff.”

“I do take out every once in a while,” he says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“I’m a college student and I can cook better than you.”

“You’re one year younger than me. We’re not so different.”

“Whatever you say.”

Bucky can’t help the amused smile edging its way onto his face as you fall into silence, watching the movie, too. One thing Bucky’s always liked about you, even if he didn’t like anything else, is that you share a lot of the same interests as him. They had whole rants on how terrible some movies were, or the disappointment that was some TV finales. It always made pillow talk a fun time, if they ever made it to that stage. 

It was more often than not either of them would wake up before the other and just head out without a single word.

Bucky finds he likes your companionable silence more than he thought he would. Maybe he should’ve indulged pillowtalk a bit more. By the small, sated smile on your lips, he wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

“You know,” you say after a while, “when I said at the beach house that you wanted me…” Your voice rouses Bucky from his trance of staring at the TV. The credits are rolling and he hadn’t even realized. So lost in his thoughts he was near the end, thinking about Rachel’s letter to Bruce and hyper aware of your every shift in your seat beside him, the movie seemed to pass by in a blink.

Something about the long lost melancholy of lost chances…

Bucky’s never been fucking sentimental, but even he can see the chance that Bruce Wayne really… really missed out on, and the blue-eyed man doesn’t want to be in that position ever. To do the right thing only to find out it’s too late. Because she died in the end, didn’t she? She died and he was alone even though he tried…

“What?”

“At the beach house,” you repeat. “When I basically told you that you wanted me…” you say with a roll of your eyes, “it was just teasing, foreplay.” Then, more seriously: “But I guess I was being like Two-Face. Double entendres, innuendos, all that.”

“You’re going to become a vengeful, homicidal DA?” he quips wryly and you huff in faux irritation, poking him lightly in the chest.

“No. God, use that brain inside that pretty little head of yours for once.”

“Aw, you called me pretty.”

“Barnes.”

“Fine. Continue.”

“Well, what I was saying… When I said you wanted me… God, this is stupid. Feel free to just punch me in the face after, but…”

“But?” Eyebrows knitting together, he looks at you and you pull the blanket up to your face, embarrassment telltale in the way you avert your eyes. He gently pushes the blanket down, muting the TV and waiting patiently. You look more alive that you did the first minute you walked into your apartment and you look like you want to bury yourself in the blankets but he’s not going anywhere and you stare at him, lips pressed into a flustered line. “I’m not going to punch you in the face. You can just tell me.”

“I guess… I just... I wanted to believe that you wanted me,” you state, shaking your head, “for me. Like some affirmation that there’s a possibility you could ever want me like that, and… I’m being dumb. I swear I’m not usually like this, all sentimental and shit, but it’s just I feel like shit and you don’t care about any of that and Brock… I broke up with him because I know he doesn’t love me even if he says he does and that I deserve better but I just… it gets to me, you know? It fucking gets to me when I’m all alone and now I am alone and if he didn’t put me first... maybe it’s because I’m not wanted.”

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, reaching for your hands and you surrender to him easily as he cranes his head to keep your eye contact despite you ducking your head. “I don’t judge you for any of that shit and that’s wrong. He’s a fucking prick, and people want you here. Romanoff, Steve, Sam…” Me.

“I know. I know and I just… I’m scared because I have nowhere to go. And, you’re always honest with me, and just slap me in the face because… I can’t believe I’m asking you this what if… what if everyone’s gonna treat me like Brock did? What if no one will ever really want me?

There’s a beat.

Then, two.

He’s squeezing your hands so hard he’s surprised you haven’t drawn away but then he realizes your fingers are clutching onto him even tighter, his bones wincing as you crush his digits.

“It’s stupid. I’m stupid—”

“No, you’re not.” Bucky shakes his head and you—fourth year college student and someone he shouldn’t be attached to because you two are so different but he is because you two are so alike—are something else. No one has gotten under his skin like you have.

You’re not fucking stupid. Because I do want you. In a way. In more than one way. And you are irritating and burn so fucking bright and you’re fucking bold, but—

I want you.

He doesn’t say any of that.

And it’s complicated, but that’s how the universe fucking works.

“You’re free to stay here for however long you need to,” he tells you quietly, seriously. “I don’t care how long it is, and there are no catches. Just… just don’t give that fucker another chance, yeah? ‘Cause there’s always gonna be someone who wants you, kitten. Someone who’ll treat you right.”

You smile faintly, knees tucked to your chest and hair still a bit damp from your shower. You’re warm, soft, with no cigarette smoke clouding your silhouette and no glossy sheen of alcohol. You look like you in a way Bucky’s never known before.

He thinks this beats you in any kind of black dress.

“Okay,” you accept and you lean over first to kiss him. It’s a soft peck to the corner of his mouth, an innocent, flitting thing, but Bucky doesn’t mind. He eases against the couch and you lean against his chest, cuddling close against him. His arm falls around your shoulders, holding you tight to him and you melt against him just like he does around you.

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

[gyll-yee-haw]

The Assistant

Quentin Beck smut

Prompt (requested): Quentin finds out that his cute new assistant (the one who loves to tease and be a little brat to him) is a virgin... and he's got plans for her.

Warnings: lots of teasing and dirty talk, idk if it has more degradation or praising, I like to mix it lol.... mentions of losing your virginity, unprotected sex and a surprisingly soft daddy Quentin

Like 3k words

---

From the minute you stepped into that lab, you had Quentin's attention.

He thought you were the prettiest little thing he had ever seen, but he couldn't allow distractions, so he never really gave you too much attention, just left you there doing your job.

The thing is that you were brilliant at it. There was no way he could ignore your presence.

As time passed, you kept impressing him… And he became kinda obsessed with you.

He thought about you more than he should.

He got jealous whenever he saw another employee talking to you (maybe they mysteriously got fired after).

So he asked one of your coworkers to get really close to you., and find out as many information as possible from you. Like what you liked to do on your free time, what were your ambitions… or if you were single. If he found out you weren't, there's nothing he wouldn't do for you to be.

But he didn't have to waste any time on planning something against your partner's life cause you didn't have one, and he was relieved to hear that.

But those aren't even the best news he got that day

He also heard from your coworker after a small party you attended to that weekend (with a little drinking and a few games) that you were still a virgin. He lost his mind at the thought of you being his and ONLY his. No other man had ever had the privilege to touch you.

Now he had to make you his.

So you were promoted to his personal assistant.

You were thrilled. Not only because you got a better job, but you had this HUGE admiration for Quentin, and being able to get closer to him was amazing.

On the first days, he just showered you in questions. And the better he knew you, the more fascinated he grew.

But you were a little confused. Didn't seem right for your boss to be asking so many personal questions. Sometimes, his questions seemed to have a double meaning. And you knew Quentin was way too smart to not notice that. So the only way you had to find out what he really wanted was playing his game.

One day, you were at his office, and both of you were minding your own business, but you decided that the teasing would start that day.

So your eyes focused on him until he noticed it, and when he looked back at you, they would quickly go back to your computer.

One time was enough to make him suspicious, but after the third one, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, making your heart race.

Pissing him off was exciting, but you knew it was also very dangerous.

"No, sir, I'm sorry." You lied, without taking your eyes off your computer screen.

You started slowly. That was only the first day. On the next ones, you started going a little further. Like smiling at him when he caught you staring. Or asking your own suggestive questions.

Like this one time, when you walked into his office and walked towards his desk, standing beside it until he finally acknowledged your presence.

"Can I help you?" He sighed, looking at you. He was getting tired of your games. He was so confused. You looked pretty innocent by the way you answered to his questions, but there was something in your eyes that made him doubt that.

"Yes, Mr. Beck." You bit your lip, trying to control your smirk as you carefully planned your next words. "I was wondering if I look okay to you."

He raised his eyebrows and waited for you to explain yourself, so you continued:

"I mean… now that I'm your assistant, people will see me next to you all the time. I know you never mentioned anything, sir, but do you think the way I dress is okay?"

That was the first time in a while someone left him speechless like that.

"I appreciate how much you care about your job, Y/N." He finally replied. "If you're worried about that, I could get you some money to buy new clothes."

You didn't expect that at all, you were just teasing him.

"Thank you, sir… but does that mean you don't think I'm pretty now?" You used a sweet, sad tone.

"No, I think you're so fucking pretty." He looked at your body in a way that made you a little shy. "And I don't really care what you're wearing. If you want my sincere opinion, honey, you should wear a lot less than that."

You pressed your thighs together at those words. This was all about driving HIM crazy, but he always found a way to be on control. And he noticed how he made you feel, of course he did.

"You look so eager to be a great assistant." He chuckled darkly. "You would do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?"

You nodded with no hesitation.

"Good girl." He smiled and caressed you cheek with his finger. "Go back to work, then."

You were in shock. You were frozen beside him trying to process everything. You wanted him so bad, you wouldn't be able to focus on work now. But you walked back to your desk, cause what other choice did you have?

Well, you weren't giving up now.

On the very next day, every single pair of eyes landed on you when you walked into that building.

You were wearing the shortest skirt you could find. And one of those shirts that were a little transparent, with a cute little lace bra under it. Red lipstick. It was impossible not to look.

Quentin was furious. He was possessive, and now everyone was talking about "his girl".

5 minutes after you arrived you were already yelled at. He wanted you in his office. Immediately.

When you walked in, you shivered at his state. He was so angry, and he always looked so hot like that. Sitting on his chair, a hand closed on a fist on his table, his eyes looking at a distant spot… you could almost see that inside his head there was nothing but madness.

"What do you think you're doing?" He sighed, trying to control his anger. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Well, sir… yesterday you said that you wanted me to wear less clothes. I just wanted to please you."

"Please me?" He thought for a second. "Come closer."

Seemed like a pretty dangerous thing to do, but there was no turning back now.

When you got close enough, he pulled you by the arm, forcing you to sit on his lap, which made you gasp.

"I know you're not stupid, Y/N. I wouldn't be interested in you if you were." He said, running his hand through your thigh. "So why are you doing this? Do you want attention?"

"Yes, sir." You bit your lip as his hand travelled now between your thighs.

"You wanted my attention?" He chuckled. "Well, but I don't want other people looking at my things. Wanting my things…"

He was treating you like just another prize he won and you couldn't understand why you were okay with that. Or why you would be anything he wanted you to be.

"Maybe I should fire you." He said, placing a kiss on the back of your neck.

"No, sir, please… I can be useful to you." You begged.

"I know you can. And you will." He said as his hand got closer and closer to where you needed it, but never actually there.

You were on fire, you just wanted to rub yourself on his thigh, but you were afraid to move unless he asked you to.

"Now come on." He said, forcing you to stand up. "Let's go to your place. We'll get you changed."

"I don't want to go." You muttered.

"Excuse me?" He raised his eyebrows.

"We have work to do." You explained. "And there is nothing wrong with the way I am dressed."

He immediately grabbed you by the neck and said: "We are going to your place right now."

---

You were thrilled. One more time. Life beside Quentin was never boring.

The drive back to your place was silent. Your eyes were glued to the way he was holding the wheel a lot tighter than he had to. His forearms were so tense. Absolutely beautiful.

The moment you walked into your place, you went directly to your bedroom and he followed you.

"Do I have to change in front of you?" You asked sarcastically. "To make sure you'll approve it?"

"Enough." He sighed. "Why are you acting like a fucking brat? You used to be such a good girl for me…"

You didn't have an answer to give him. Cause you wanted attention? Not really, you had that already. You were doing that simply because it was fun.

"You know what? You don't have to go back with me. You're fired."

"No, sir, don't do that, please!" Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, just give me a chance, I will be good again, I promise…"

"I don't usually give people a second chance, you know that." He shrugged. "But it would be a shame to lose you, I have to admit that."

His eyes traveled your body as he walked in circles, trying to make up his mind. You were paralyzed. Not that you were obsessed with your job, but you kinda were with your boss. You knew he wouldn't want to see you ever again.

"I will give you one last chance…" He decided. "If you prove that you're loyal to me. Not to the company, to me. You know you're over qualified to be only an assistant… and I have bigger plans for you."

"I would do anything for you, sir." You nodded eagerly.

"Now that's my good girl." He chuckled and stood in front of you. He leaned closer and placed his hand on your cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. "My pretty girl."

That man had some kind of power over you that didn't allow you to think straight. Even when you thought you could play him, he found a way to be on control. All you knew was that you wanted him as bad as he wanted you. And before you could think twice, you enjoyed the proximity to kiss him.

You thought he would push you away and leave you there alone and needy, but the fact was that he was holding himself back since the minute you walked into his office that day. So he kissed you back. It was a hungry, messy kiss. His hands quickly went to your waist and pulled you against his body.

He guided you towards your bed without breaking the kiss.

"Not exactly what I had in mind." He chuckled. "But you never fooled me. I always knew you weren't innocent."

You lay on your bed and he climbed on top of you.

"Mr. Beck…" You got a little nervous when you realized how far things had gone. "I have never done this before."

"I know, baby." He said on his sweetest tone. "But I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'll be good for you. There's no need to be scared. Also, there's no need to call me Mr. Beck here. Call me whatever you want, okay?"

You hesitated for a second, then you whispered the most innocent "daddy" he had ever heard in his entire life.

"Fuck, what did you just say?" He grabbed your chin and forced you to repeat it right to his face, to make sure it was real.

"Can I call you daddy?" You asked nervously.

"God fucking damnit, Y/N." He visibly lost his mind. "Now you can't call me anything else ever again."

"Daddy." You smiled at the effect that little word had on him.

"Yes, babygirl." He slid his hand under your skirt, but this time he didn't tease as much as before, stroking you over your underwear. "Now daddy's gonna make you feel so good."

You bit your lip and nodded. That could be considered a permission for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

So he helped you remove all of your clothes. He removed his shirt too, but he had to stop and take a moment to admire you. No man in the world had ever looked at you like that. With that much lust. That look on his eyes alone would be enough to make you want him, but the sigh of his shirtless chest was something else too.

His hands travelled your body and ended up on your chest, and he decided to dedicate a few minutes to your boobs.

You were starting to think that he planned on fucking you back in his office, but he changed his mind cause he wanted to take his time with you. So ending up in your bedroom had absolutely nothing to do with the clothes you were wearing. Actually, Quentin would love to show you off. He was only mad cause you turned him on that much at the wrong place and time.

But part of you wished he would have finished this at his office, because you couldn't stand this anymore. He played with your nipples until you were desperate for him to fuck you.

"Daddy, please." You begged, pressing your thighs together.

"Please, what?" He smirked at your state.

"Need you inside me so bad." You admitted.

"Do you, honey?" His hands left your boobs and went to your thighs, forcing them open. His fingers started to stroke your folds and you gasped. "Fuck, babygirl. You really do. Look at how fucking wet you are. All for me."

He shoved two fingers inside you at once, making you moan loudly.

"So thigh, princess. Can't wait to stretch you open with my cock. Is that what you want?" He asked, and you nodded eagerly. "Beg for it just a little more. You wouldn't have to if you weren't such a little brat earlier... now you have to earn it."

"I'm sorry, daddy." Your hips bucked as he rubbed your clit so hard. "I won't be a brat anymore, I will be good now."

"Hm." He muttered uninterested and kept rubbing you.

"Daddy… I'm gonna-" You started to feel your orgasm building in your belly because of how good he was touching you and the things he was saying.

"No, you're not." He stopped everything. The look of betrayal on your face was hilarious to him. "Not until you beg."

"Please, daddy, please." You obeyed. "I need your cock, I promise I'll be loyal to you forever, but please…"

He didn't want to give up so soon. Maybe it was because of the tears in your eyes, or that fact that he was painfully hard that made him break.

But you were relieved when you saw him taking off the rest of his clothes. And you couldn't even describe how you felt when you saw his cock.

He placed it on your entrance and started to kiss you again, before he finally entered you. You cried out from pain and pleasure. He started to move slowly.

"Daddy is always gonna give you what you need, as long as you deserve it, honey." He told you as he kissed your neck. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"So big, daddy, so good." You smiled at him. "So good."

"You sound so dumb right now, you little slut." He chuckled.

That was definitely the last thing you expected sex with Quentin to be like. So smiley. Sweet on it's own way. Maybe because it was your first time. Maybe he had a heart after all.

After he was sure you were ready, he started going faster and harder. It was heaven. Didn't take too long for your to feel your orgasm building from where it was brutally interrupted before.

"Daddy, please… can I cum now?" You begged, which pleased him very much. He didn't even have to ask this time.

"Yes, babygirl, cum on daddy's cock before I fill you up, come on." He told you.

The thought of him coming inside you was enough to bring you to the edge. You came so hard, because you needed that for so long. Quentin couldn't decide what was hotter: your face, your moans or the way you held him tightly while your walls clenched around him.

And he kept his promise, spilling himself inside of you a few seconds later.

He kept his cock inside you and brought his hand to your face, caressing it slowly.

"I'm your first and the only man you'll ever have." He whispered. "You're mine now. You were mine since the day you walked into that office for the first time."

"I'm yours." You agreed. "And you're my daddy."

"Right, I'm your daddy." He chuckled. "I have huge plans for you, babygirl…"

[waitimcomingtoo]

Paranoid

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

submitted by @7teenbl-ck : your Criminal Minds obsession gets you paranoid about crime in your neighborhood. Everything scares you now, even Peter

Masterlist

(this gif has nothing to do with the story but omg look at it)

“Baby, wake up.”  

You jolted awake when Peter shook you, your laptop sliding off your stomach and onto the bed.

“What time is it?” You asked groggily as you rubbed your eyes.

Sleepy you was peters favorite version of you, so he took a minute to answer as he admired the way your hair stuck up in every direction.

“It’s not even nine yet. I just got back from patrol.” He told you as he rubbed your hip.

“I must’ve fallen asleep watching Criminal Minds again.” You said before hiding a yawn behind your hand.

“Why are you so obsessed with fake crime when you have a boyfriend out there fighting real crime?” Peter pouted, moving your laptop off the bed so you wouldn’t lose it.

“I watch it for the plot.” You smiled sleepily at him, and he saw right through you. Peter let out a short laugh and brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss it.

“You watch it because you’re in love with that stupid agent Reid or whatever his name is.” Peter grumbled, his jealousy making you smile.

“It’s Doctor Reid.” You corrected, and he rolled his eyes at you.

“You’ve been watching that damn show every single night when I come back from patrol.” Peter whined as he pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back. “Why don’t you let me tell you about the real unsubs I see?”

“Fine, baby.” You patted his knee and curled into his chest, still half sleep. “Tell me about patrol tonight.”

“I saw a pigeon l in the backseat of a moving taxi.” Peter said excitedly, and you chuckled against his chest.

“How is that a real crime?” You teased him.

“That’s theft of service. That pigeon could get get fined up to $4,000.” Peter argued and you let out a laugh.

“Who would waste their time trying to bring a pigeon to justice?” You asked, and Peter fell silent.

“Peter? I need you to be honest with me.” You said, your tone suddenly seriously.

“Okay, sure” Peter sat up a little to give you his full attention.

“Did you go after the pigeon?” You squinted at him in the dark. Peter was quiet again and you could see him chewing his bottom lip in the moonlight that came through your window

“Peter.” You repeated in a warning tone.

“It was a slow night! The pigeon needed to be set free before he committed a misdemeanor.” Peter defended.

“You know who never has a slow night?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Don’t say the BAU” Peter groaned.

“The BAU!” You cheered. “Let’s watch Criminal Minds.”

“But I want to cuddle.” Peter whined. It not that he didn’t like the show, he just wasn’t in the mood for it. He’s much rather hear about your day or just about anything else you wanted it tell him.

“We can do both.” You insisted as you pulled your laptop into your lap. Peter scooted between your legs and let you be the big spoon as you clicked on an episode.

~

You spent the entirety of your Saturday watching Criminals minds while Peter was at his SAT prep class. He told you he’d be over around 5 to keep you company, something that had slipped your mind around the fourth episode you played. This episode in particular hit a little too close to home, as it took place in New York. As the episode went on, you began to feel fear bubble up in your tummy. It didn’t help that your parents were away for the weekend, leaving you all alone in the apartment. You paused the episode and went to make sure that your door was locked. You sighed a breath of relief when you saw that it was, and leaned your back a against it. That’s when it dawned on you.

You have so many windows.

And windows are just tiny glass doors that criminals can come through.

You rushed throughout your apartment, shutting and locking every single window you had. You shut all the curtains before returning to you bedroom to resume the episode.

While it played, you googled crime statistics in New York.

“443 out of 100,000 people in New York are criminals?” You read out loud to yourself, suddenly feeling very unsafe. You began to google crime in your immediate neighborhood when the episode caught your attention.

“Our unsub is a white male in his mid to late 30s. He’s going to be physically fit and may have already inserted himself in the investigation.” Emily Prentiss said, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“I know some physically fit white males in their mid to late 30s.” You whispered in fear.

“He’s only attacked cars at first, but he recently escalated to apartments.” Derek Morag added and you gulped.

“I live in an apartment building.” You realized as white hot fear shot through your body.

“His last victim was a high school girl. He broke into her apartment when her parents weren’t home and attacked her while she was drinking a glass of water in her bedroom.” Hotch explained.

Your eyes shifted to the glass of water you had beside your bed. You swiftly punched the glass, making water spill all over your carpet. You had just turned your attention back to the screen when you heard a knocking at your window. You let out a scream and dove under the covers, saying a prayer in every language you could think off. You let out another shriek when they knocked again.

“Who’s there? Are you the criminals? From the statistics?” You yelled form under your covers.

It wasn’t until your panicked breathing calmed down that you heard your boyfriends voice.

“Y/n? It’s Peter. Open up.” He called, his voice muffled through the window. You peaked from beneath your covers and saw Spider-Man perched at your window. You sheepishly got out of bed and opened the window for him, locking it the second he got inside. You peaked through your curtains for anyone who might be watching and shut them tightly.

“Why was it locked? I thought you always left it open for me?” Peter grumbled as he took off his suit. He put on the clothes he left in your room as you sat on your bed.

“But leaving it open for you Peter is the same as leaving it open for all the criminals in New York. All 443 out of 100,000 of them!” You exclaimed and he paused as he was sliding on his shirt.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I have been googling crime statistics in New York all day. Do you know how bad the crime has to be for it it warrant statistics?” You asked him, panic evident in your eyes. He took a seat next to you and took your hands in his.

“Baby, this neighborhood hasn’t had a crime since the guy on the fifth floor stole that lady’s package. And he returned it once he saw it was a cat bed, so no one was even arrested.” Peter reasoned with you but you still looked scared. “What’s got you all worked up?”

You looked at Peter as you nervously chewed your lip and it clicked.

“Don’t say the BAU.” He groaned and buried his face in your neck.

“The BAU!” You protested and he muttered something against your skin before picking his head up. He could see that you were genuinely afraid, so he pulled you into his arms and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Sweetness, that show isn’t real.” Peter sighed as he rubbed your back. “It’s dramatized and fake and unrealistic. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“The show isn’t real, but the criminals in New York are.” You said quietly. “There are a lot of bad people in the world and New York is full of them. And then you tell me about all this crazy kinds of bad people with giant wings and illusion technology that the rest of the world doesn’t even know about.”

Guilt twinged in Peters chest at your words. He never should’ve told you about the guys he was fighting if you were already paranoid. He picked up your head and held it between your hands, giving you a gentle smile to calm to down.

“You know what those guys have in common?” Peter asked you and you shook your head.

“No, what?”

“I took them down.” Peter said with a cooks grin and you rolled your eyes at him. “Beck is dead and Toomes is in prison. They can’t get to you.”

“But-“ You began.

“And neither can anyone else.” Peter finished. “My job as Spider-Man is to keep New York safe, but my job as your boyfriend is to keep you safe. You’re always gonna be my number one priority.”

You smiled slightly as Peter and pulled him into a long kiss to thank him.

“Thank you.” You mumbled against his lips. “I guess I shouldn’t be this paranoid. I just kinda forgot my boyfriend was Spider-Man.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here.” Peter chuckled. “To remind you.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human​ @celestial-skylines​ @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @delicately-important-trash​ @spideygirl2003​ @the-crazy-fanfictionist​ @maryjanee23​ @spacebitch2​ @geeksareunique​ @emmamarshmellow​ @jillanaholland​ @unbelievableholland​ @rebekkah4766​ @flixndchill​ @sovereignparker​ @wendaiii​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever​ @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave​ @itscaminow​ @thegr8kush​ @solarxmoonchild​ @where-art-thau-romeo​ @canyouevencauseicant​ @probablyparker​ @illwritetomorrow​ @thehappygrungelife​ @saysomethingspiderman​ @parkerboop​ @smilexcaptainx​ @hes-amarillo​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah

[the-shared-brain-in-retrograde]

Zodiac

Or What if Bruce Banner gave up all that science and got really into puzzles?

A joint review

It’s safe to say that our What If…? season has proven quite divisive for the Shared Brain, and Zodiac was no exception to that rule. Cass loves it, thinks it’s a masterpiece of creepy suspense that lingers unsettlingly as she goes about her business afterwards, and Becks hated it, wonders why anyone would go to the trouble to watch, or indeed even make, this movie. So this should be interesting.

We should also say, whilst this was our choice of alternate universe for dear Bruce, we do note that there are two other MCU fan favourites joining him here for a crossword or two; Tony Stark as himself (give or take a few million and a different taste in suits) and Mysterio without his helmet. We’re getting the band back together alright!

We're gonna go by character this week rather than trying to go by the plot, as we think this will hurt our brain, just like it hurt the brains of everyone else involved, and we don't want to have a breakdown [we are very close...] We really wanted to start with Dave, you know cos it’s Bruce week, but we are not going to for reasons that we will not be taking questions about at this time.

Robert Graysmith

It's safe to say Cass may have become financially troubled over little Robert at times during this film.

@cassandrafey: Look I just think he's quite cute in this film.

@becksxoxo: Yuhuh.. Is this the week where I become *better* than you?

@cassandrafey: I mean, he's cute in this but I'm not going to lose my head.

@becksxoxo: *indignantly* When have I ever lost my head?

@cassandrafey: A lot.

Anyway turns out that Cass has watched 33% of Jakey G's film back catalogue (according to Letterboxd), but not as many as Sebastian Stan [Becks here, Sebastian's films I mean, I don't know how many of Jake Gyllenhaal's films Seb has watched, perhaps I'll go message him. Hey babe, we're just writing a post, can I just check something with you. Thanks babe...] Becks is surprised it’s not Anthony Mackie, but it turns out he's been in every film ever made, so the data's a bit squiffy. [Cass here: Anthony was my most watched actor of last year according to the Jan roundup, so I’m still representing don’t worry. However, Seb is clearly looking to increase his lead in the early months of this year, by providing the sort of content I am here for. Love to see a villain phase.] Becks only watches the same 5 films on rotation, so does not have any stats to give. Anyway back to the film...

Robert Graysmith, big fan of puzzles, has very little impulse control. As soon as he heard there was the slightest whiff of a puzzle out comes the pen, all other responsibilities thrown to the wayside. Becks is a big advocate for procrastination, but even she thought he'd taken it too far.

What we will say about Robert is, that although Cass thinks he is unbearably cute, he is also unbelievably stupid so often in so many ways that could have been avoided:

You've done a lot of research into this guy, but perhaps stop broadcasting this fact to the serial killer, and putting your family at risk.

Also, don't go round a stranger's house when they're somewhat involved in a murder case.

Don't go in their house.

Do notice if they lock the door.

Try not to give all the details about the murderer to that person.

Don't follow them in a dark basement.

Also, is it true that not many people have basements in California? Any American folk that come across this can you please let us know? In our heads all American houses have basements. And nothing good happens in any of them.

Another badly thought out thing that Robert did was get the kids involved. Firstly, don't let your kid watch a TV show where a murderer is calling in after threating kids. Secondly, perhaps don't use your murderer obsession as a nice little weekend project with the kiddiewinks. Why were you getting them to check moon cycles, should we be worried that the Zodiac is a werewolf?

Would you prefer to be killed by a werewolf or vampire?

@cassandrafey: Well a vampire is neater. I think you would be mauled by a werewolf, and it would be messy and painful. And I don’t think they’re sexy are they, when they’re turned? Like before maybe, I can accept that in human form the werewolf could be hot, maybe very hot, but I don’t want to be fucked by a werewolf whilst it actually is the wolf. Not if I’m not one. I suppose if I was also a werewolf, then that would be okay, but otherwise it’s not right. But a vampire is a vampire all the time and sexy all the time, so it would have to be the vampire.

@becksxoxo: I mean, I didn’t actually ask which you would rather be fucked by…

@cassandrafey: Oh. Why was I talking about that then?! What was the question?

Anyway. Probably vampires innit?

His wife was right to take the kids away at this time. It was a date that just never ended. But everyone is fine. It’s fine.

Another tangent Becks would like to include. When were zippers invented? Hear me out, Robert wore a coat with a zipper, and this film is set in the past [which I did keep forgetting and being like why are people in flares? Why is no one just calling for help?] but I don't know when people stopped being buttoned into a thing, and instead zipped themselves up. Cass has since googled this, so we know the answer, and if you too are intrigued we suggest you also google it. We shan't help you. But it’s sort of worth it. Sort of. Do you know what we will help you, because the phrases used regarding the zip are just too good. Enjoy friends.

He was quite smart, with the puzzles and working out the library connection, but he wasn't very emotionally smart. Cass would like it reiterating again that he was very cute. Before we move on, Becks would like to say that her favourite bit of the film did involve Robert, and the extreme burn he got from the Coffee Vendor.

David Toschi

Very good hair for a man who hasn't had a full nights sleep in over a decade.

We like Dave, for the most part we're very on his side. Which we suppose you're meant to be, when the other option is a serial killer. So that’s nice.

Cass very much enjoyed watching Dave and Bill work together to get a picture of the scene, an overview of the crime and try and get into the head of the Zodiac. Becks admits that it was a good way of telling the story without telling the story.

Cass also enjoyed his role in the interrogation. His quietness adding more intimidation then any of the questions being asked. Handling that watch. Cass just thinks he does really good silent acting for much of this scene, and loves it.

She also liked his disapproving head shake at those policemen who failed at doing their jobs so spectacularly. She would not however like that disappointment to ever be turned on her.

@becksxoxo: Do you just want him to tell you you're a good girl?

@cassandrafey: Yes. *a moment of silence* but not in the way of your bloody fanfictions!

It must be so frustrating and sad not to have been able to solve the case, to have the proof you need to say it was this person and have the whole thing finished. The whole way the case played out seemed frustrating, all the procedural fuck ups, the counties and cities not working together, the whole bit where he was accused of writing one of the letters himself. We're not surprised Bill left, although Becks was very angry at him just upping and leaving. You don't do that to a friend. We wonder if he ever got his Japanese food?

He did have really good hair. And his little gun holster thing was alright. The bowties were a choice [they were so big...] and we hope he eventually got some sleep.

Becks thinks Mark did some good acting in this role. She doesn't really have much to base this on, but it’s a judgement she's made and it’s one of the nice things she has to say about this film.

Paul Avery

Poor old Paul. With his buttons and his alcohol addiction.

Paul provides a bit of levity to the film, a little light hearted fun, with his snark and his outfits, until it all goes a bit wrong. If being threatened by a serial killer could be described as a bit wrong.

Cass liked Paul and was sorry to see his life fall apart, but she can't exactly put her finger on why she liked him. He was entertaining though.

He felt very Tony-esque only without the money and weapons. Oh Tony, we miss you.

We like his and Robert's friendship, that begins as essentially bullying a little boy who is a little bit in love with you, to hanging out at gun ranges and trying to make sure you're not serial killed. Although he did seem to drift the more obsessed with the Zodiac he became.

He too did stupid things, like Robert. Going off to meet an anonymous person when an anonymous murderer has just threated you with a good bit of death. Why was Melanie the only one to point out how stupid this all was? Feeble minded men, that's why...

Speaking of feeble minded men, we shall now move on to the many possible identities of the Zodiac Killer.

The Zodiac Killer

Obviously in the film we never know for sure who the Zodiac is. They do go through a lot of very odd people, and even if they weren't the Zodiac, we're pretty sure they've probably done something. And that's why we're not in law enforcement. Apparently you can't accuse people on vibes alone.

Arthur Leigh Allen was a creepy fucker. We don’t have anything further to say about this - but he gives Cass the creeps very severely indeed, and whether he’s the killer or not we don’t want to be anywhere near him.

Bob Vaughn, also creepy. But also, don't go in possible murderers' basements, or houses in general. Cass thinks he was low key just fucking with Robert to entertain himself. Which is a dangerous game, but also a little funny.

It was weird how many people came forward claiming to be the Zodiac. You must have gone pretty wrong to claim to be a murderer when you just weren't. Gods people are weird.

Becks wants it be known that she does not want to be serial killed. If she is to be murdered it is because she is special. Take this as you will. It certainly made Cass shriek, and the words ‘so on brand’ were heard through the laughter.

Becks didn't really feel much during or after the film. There was a loud bang outside at one point, and that did make her jump, but none of the fear really lasted. Cass however really gets creeped out by this film. She had to answer the door for take away half an hour in and she didn’t like doing that at all… but she did because she’s a grown woman and didn’t want her housemate to see she was scared.

Cass here, just to add that I really do love this film. The frustration of feeling so certain that you have caught the killer and can put an end to this and keep people safe, along with the helplessness of not being able to prove it. The never quite knowing, and therefore never full unmasking the monster. The suspense and the awful tension and the way he he targets victims in pairs, making you feel a creeping dread of not being safe even when you’re with someone else and outnumbering the killer. The fact that the victims seemed totally random. Just the sense that it could happen. Awful. The first time I saw the basement scene, I nearly stopped breathing. And the interrogation scene lingers too, because it just feels like the worst game of cat and mouse - like they should be able to prove it and just can’t. Gods it gives me the creeps!

We were trying to think if there have been any serial killers during our lifetime, and we don't think there has been. Are mass shootings (which thank the gods we don't have here, but obviously we bare witness to in other countries) technically serial killers? We wonder what the definition is? We got too tied up in zippers and have not looked into this. And probably won't. It's all too gloomy as it is.

@cassandrafey: In conclusion this was a fantastic film that was not fully appreciated

@becksxoxo: *squawks* It’s just three hours I'm not getting back.

@cassandrafey: Much like his victims, you were robbed of time by the Zodiac.

@becksxoxo: Insensitive? Yes. Untrue? No

Anyway, Cabin in the Woods next week. Our final What If…? of the season. Always sad when things come to an end, when things finish. Will Becks cry? Gods imagine crying over Cabin in the fucking Woods. Also it’s going to be another Saturday night watch, with a Sunday morning review, because apparently Cass has other 'friends'.

See you next week.

love cass and becks

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

(Which Spider-Man?) Mary-Jane takes Miles under her wing instead or Peter has to kill Beck

(set after into the spiderverse)

1.

defeating kingpin and sending the other spider... well, men off to their own worlds felt great, but once it’s over miles has to face the fact that he’s still starting out on his own here and this world’s peter parker, his spiderman, is still fresh in the city’s memory. it means he gets some weird and mixed reactions from people during his first few swing-throughs of the city, but he tries to take them in his stride.

he reminds himself that he has people to go to for advice and support and an entire, whaddayacallit, spider cave to peruse if he wants to. there’s fresh and advanced webshooters, web fluid, costume changes, tracking and recording equipment, and besides, may parker is badass. there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be hanging out there all the time.

except--

there’s this way may’s eyes soften and get watery when she’s looking at him and thinks he isn’t noticing, her entire body cratering at the centre after being upright for so long. it’s awkward when she once asks him to call her ‘aunt may’ then stops herself, looking stricken, then never brings it up again. sitting in her house sipping hot chocolate means remembering the first time he was sitting in that hall; looking at the fading scorch marks on the wall; thinking uncle aaron i miss you and realising for probably the hundredth time that week that he’s never going to see his uncle again. it’s like he’s surrounded by a thousand invisible emotional tripwires, and he’s always walking into them and falling into some memory.

so, yeah. he doesn’t really go to may’s much, unless it’s for an emergency, or he’s running low on web fluid, or needs to repair his costume. it’s during one such trip that he finds mary jane watson sitting in the spidercave.

2.

mj (because of course she wants him to call her mj) is… nice. she’s nice. there’s not a whole lot more miles can say at first because again: peter parker is this sort of insurmountable wall between them, and as much as he bonded with other (his) pete, he isn’t quite sure what this (not his peter but technically his universe’s, so, well. shit. this is all very confusing) peter was really like. he was very kind to miles when he first saw him (and quicker to put two and two together) but did he have that same exhausted dad energy? was he scarily competent and an absolute slob at the same time? did he get that soft, wondering look in his eyes, like he’d received a gift he never expected to get, whenever he thought nobody was looking at him? did he ask his famous-in-her-own-right journalist girlfriend to help him be spider-man, or was that part of him mostly a mystery to her too?

miles could ask said-girlfriend, but… it’s too soon. too raw. too awkward. too miles-has-schoolwork-and-vigilantism-consuming-every-second-of-his-life-and-he-just-doesn’t-have-any-leftover-energy-to-deal-with-this.

they exchange phone numbers during their second meeting and it continues to be weird at first (what’s miles going to do? send mary jane watson pictures of minecraft memes?), but he quickly discovers that mj isn’t really interested in spiderman related--or even adjacent--conversations either. it’s mostly messages asking him about his day, or about school, or if spiderman’s really taking the subway every other morning (miles’ spider genes apparently don’t allow him to withstand swinging from building to building after a full cheeseburger meal). miles quickly loses his nervousness and it even becomes a sort of comfort.

then: the messages start getting… different. what you’re looking for isn’t there and see attachment and i can get you oscorp’s internal files on this and the nuclear material is coming in from oslo not ohio what the fuck even is this spellcheck

all the tips pan out because of course they do, it’s mary jane watson. miles isn’t entirely sure how she seems to know so often what he’s working on, but he suspects that she watches where he’s been as spiderman closer than he first thought. 

still, he feels awkward enough that it’s a while before he texts her i think i’m stuck on this one.

the reply is almost immediate: i thought you’d never ask.

3.

being spider-man is all fun and games until it suddenly isn’t: when miles realises he’s out there in the middle of an inferno without backup, during every moment he jumps off a building and thinks for a split-second, mid-air: what if i don’t make that next landing. more often than not he makes it out okay at the end of the day, but there are also moments like this: stuck under a wooden beam, hurt just enough that he can’t muster the strength to throw the beam off his back, fire raging in the floors beneath him, the heat wafting up threatening to cook him in his nice superhero suit.

i might not make it is no longer a split-second thought. in fact it’s a thought that occupies a lot of whole seconds strung together.

then: “spiderman!”

the shout is followed a few seconds later by mj herself, her form shimmering and wavering in the heat, handkerchief pressed to her nose and mouth. when she sees him her watering eyes light up.

miles’ jaw hangs open, and something clicks in his head: there’s no way spiderman could’ve existed without this reckless, brave, smart yet so stupid, incredible person. 

he’s a lot less nervous about asking for help after that, and about reminding her that yeah, he can be a little foolish at times, but she was the one who ran alone into a burning building to help somebody with super-strength and super-healing. she never argues that last one, just smiles fondly.

4.

mj becomes fast friends with miles’ mother. miles doesn’t even remember how they met--ran into each other at the grocery store every weekend? something. it isn’t really relevant. what’s important is that now mj and his mom appear to be best friends, and miles isn’t sure how to feel about this. he gets the notion that, despite not being bitten by a radioactive spider, mj is much farther along in this world than he is. boundaries are different. more porous. 

even so, mj is… something else.

sometimes, sitting across from her at the dining table at home, it feels like the world is a little bit warmer, a little more… complete. then she would catch his eye and give him a knowing smile, and miles is in his costume again, poised at the apex of an expansive arc and not knowing where he’s going to land in a world he’s starting to realise he doesn’t really understand after all.

he never tells mj about the multiverse spidermen, though he can tell she is curious about where he disappears to every now and then. truth be told, he’s a bit scared of how she’ll react to the idea of other peters existing.

5.

months after that first meeting, miles and mj visit peter’s grave together. 

it’s probably the first time miles has seen mj be anything but calm and put-together. exhaustion piles in like sand in a tipped hourglass. her shoulders slump and her nails claw into a faded sweatshirt that she’s holding in her hands. and yet… she’s holding back, miles realises. for all that he’s seen of her in the last several months, there’s a layer she’s still reserving for peter and miles… doesn’t resent it exactly, this peter spectre that keeps coming up between him and everything that he wants to know about how to do his job, but he hopes…

he hopes he’ll get to know mj some day.

he walks away to a cafe nearby. mj joins him half an hour later, eyes red and mascara smeared but her face dry. they buy milkshakes and plot their next move against doc ock.

 -

( send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons! )

[muilkyu]

Treasure Makes You Smile

Warning: Crying (a lot of it)

🐷 Hyunsuk  

"Why are you so bummed out?" Hyunsuk asks. 

"I don't wanna talk about it." You say walking ahead a bit to avoid the conversation. 

Hyunsuk speeds up walking in front of you to stop you from walking. He looks at you with his eyes full of concern, "Hey, what's up with you? You've been like this all day. You can tell me anything I will always be here to listen." 

At that, your eyes fill with tears. Grabbing your sleeve you pick at it nervously, "It's nothing. Drop it please." 

He grabs onto your face wiping a year that starts to fall, "I understand that it might be hard to tell me, but I'm here for you. I don't want to see the person I love in pain. If you won't tell me now, fine, but I'm not going to let it make you sad." 

"I wanna tell you. I really do but I don't know if I can now," you respond, tears are still slipping down your face. Hyunsuk just silently wipes them away. 

Nodding he replies, "That's fine. I just don't wanna see you cry. Should we go get ice cream?" 

You let out a small smile, "Why ice cream?" 

Your boyfriend chuckles, "It's the world's comfort food. Now come on. I don't wanna see you cry ever again." 

🐼 Jihoon 

"I don't think I'll be going out tonight. I don't feel well," you explain over the phone to your boyfriend. You're currently on FaceTime with Jihoon who is trying to get you to go out tonight. 

 "Why not you've been stuck in that room all weekend. We made plans for today you can't just bail on me," he points out frowning. 

Curling into yourself you repeat yourself, "I just don't wanna go out. I want to stay in and watch a dumb k-drama." 

Jihoons face shifts as he realizes what's going on, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing is wrong Jihoon. I just don't wanna go out." Your tone is harsh. You don't mean for it to be mean, but you really are not in the mood to talk about what's wrong. 

"No something is obviously going on. Look I'm coming over," he is already up packing a bag when you start to protest. 

"You really don't need to. I'm fine really," you try to convince him that you're fine but it's not working. 

"No matter what you say it won't stop me from coming over there," he is making his way towards the door, his phone still in his hand, he shuts off the light to his room, "I'll be over in 15 minutes." 

He hangs up the phone. As soon as the call ends you let out a sob. Maybe you do need someone here to make you feel better.

🐯 Yoshi 

"In the future do you think there will be flying cars?" 

You ponder for a moment, "Maybe, then again they said the same thing 20 years ago. What do you see for your future?" 

"I don't really know. I haven't thought that far ahead." Yoshi replies. 

"Why not?" 

"I don't really know. I mean the future isn't really anything we can control. Who knows we could break up tomorrow. We both could get deported, anything can happen." 

You frown, "You think we could break up tomorrow? Don't you think that we have a chance to decide our fate? If I say I love you today doesn't mean I don't tomorrow. We can control our lives, Yoshi." 

Yoshi's face frowns, "I didn't mean it like that. I just mean our fates can be decided, but we don't really know what's going to happen." 

"So you have no faith in our relationship then?" 

"I didn't say that. I do believe that we have the chance to be something great. I shouldn't have worded it like that. I'm sorry," Yoshi grabs your hands.

"No you're right I'm sorry too. It's just the thought of losing you that scares me." You say squeezing his hands. 

He squeezes back, "I get it. I don't want to leave you I swear. You like the best thing to ever happen in my life." 

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me too."

🐨 Junkyu

"Can you hold me," you ask when your boyfriend walks in the door.

Junkyu nods immediately. As soon as he's on the couch you have your head buried in his shoulder sobbing. He just silently holds you rubbing your back. His shoulder is completely soaked after 10 minutes of crying.

Your face is puffy and sticky when you pull away. Makeup stains Junkyu sweater so you reach out to it trying to rub it off.

"It's fine." He says grabbing your hands holding them.

You open your mouth to speak. It hurts but you still manage to get out, "It hurts."

"I know. You're allowed to cry," he comforts. You are about to lose your apartment in Korea. They decided to not continue your lease contract for another 2 years. All the available apartments won't be in your price range.

"I can't believe it. I have to go back home now," you conclude.

"I think it's the best thing to do. We are going to have to pack up your apartment."

"Yeah. I don't wanna leave." You whisper. You look around the apartment. 4 years you spent in this apartment. You met Junkyu here, confessed here, cried, fought, and fell in love in this small apartment. You also spent so much time here. Studying for exams that felt like they could literally kill you. Not to mention having to leave Korea.

Having to leave Junkyu. It feels like you're leaving your life behind.

"I don't want to leave you."

Junkyu looks at you reaching to caress your cheek, "Why don't you I don't know...stay with me till you find a place?"

Your eyes widened. He wants you to stay with him. Well basically move in with him. Only if it's temporary.

"Move in with you?"

"Yeah. I mean only till you find an apartment. I don't think it's right for you to have to leave only to come back. I have space plus we can think of this as a test trial for our future."

You smile pushing your head onto his chest. Mainly to hide your blush before you respond, "I guess we are roommates now."

🐹 Mashiho 

Coming back from dinner with your boyfriend is usually fun. He walks you home to make sure you're safe and you end the night with a smile on your face.

Tonight however was not that night. Mashi wanted to introduce you to some of his friends. Although most of them were sweethearts. One of them made sure to point out every single flaw you had all night long. It was small stuff at first, but then it just turned pure mean. 

In the end, Mashiho was now short one best friend. 

"I had no idea that he was such a jerk," Mashi rants as you walk home, "If I had known he was gonna be like that I would have never even let you meet. Let alone had been his friend." 

"You know other than completely insulting me. He said something that caught my attention." 

Mashiho squints his nose, "What do you mean?" 

"The thing about you missing a few basketball games to simply come to see me. He said you were there for my every beck and call. Is it true? Do you miss things with your friends like that all the time?" 

"I mean sometimes, but I rather hang out with you." 

"You shouldn't miss things just to see me happy. You should hang out with your friends more often." 

Your boyfriend stops walking so you're only focusing on him, "Hey, I just told you that I choose to hang out with you. No one forced me too. I hung out with you because I like hanging out with you. You make me feel way happier than any basketball game could ever." 

🦁 Jaehyuk

"Jae where are we? Come on tell me," you whine as you let your boyfriend pull you up the stairs of an unknown building. 

Jaehyuk shakes his head looking back with one of his tooth-rotting smiles, "You will see in a second. I hope you love it." 

He drags you all the way up to the rooftop. When you arrive you see a small picnic blanket placed down it decorated with a few takeout trays. 

"What is this all about Jae? It's so pretty," you gush walking up to the blanket. Jaehyuk must have put a lot of effort into making this you think. Jae surprises you again by coming up from behind you pulling you into a back hug. 

"Do you like it?"

You nod turning your head to peck him on the cheek, "I love it. What's this all for though?" 

Nudging his head against your shoulder he says, "You really don't know?" 

You shake your head. You truly have no idea what this is all about. 

Jae's smile drops, "You really don't know. This about it it's the 6th of May." 

Your anniversary. You forgot. 

Abruptly you turn around flipping in your boyfriend's arms, "Jae I'm so sorry I forgot. I know I have been busy and it's no excuse but it just slipped my mind." 

He looks down, "It's okay babe I know you have been busy." 

"That's still no excuse. Now I've ruined the whole mood," you unravel yourself from Jaehyuk moving away. 

"No, really it's fine. You have been super busy with your visa and all. I knew you would forget that's why I did all of this. Even though a small part of me did think you would remember," Jaehyun takes a step forward pulling him back to you. 

"I still shouldn't have forgotten," 

Jaehyuk nods kissing your forehead, "All that matters is that you are here now with me. We're on this beautiful rooftop with the sunset in the background. I'm with you, the person I consider the move of my life. I know I'm still young and this is cheesy, but I love you." 

You wrap your arms around Jae pressing your foreheads together, "I love you too." 

🤖  Asahi

"Is this not fun?" Asahi questions. Currently, you're supposed to be having a fun date at home. Yet with you skulking at first it isn't a big problem until you get unusually quiet. 

"No, it is. Sorry, I'm so distracted," you say turning back to the board game.

Asahi looks over you. He debates on whether or not to ask you what's wrong. Instead, he decides to go with something similar. 

"That's okay. We can do something else if you want?" He suggests. 

You nod, "Can we actually?" 

"Of course. You know what I have an idea." He stands up rushing for his backpack and into the bathroom. 

'What is he doing' you think. 

"What are you doing?" You call out when you hear something fall onto the floor of your bathroom. 

"Just give me a second!" is the response you get. The door opens and your boyfriend is standing there decked out in a robot costume with a shy grin sitting on your face. 

Out of all things in the world, this has to be the most stupid yet also cutest thing he has done. 

"Why do you have that?" You question through a laugh. 

He shrugs, "I bought it for some reason yesterday after school. Guess it came in handy." 

"It did. You look adorable. Now dance for me Mr. Robot." 

🦊 Yedam

"Why is this so hard," you groaned, plopping your head onto the desk, "Who is  just I suppose to remember every single formula?" 

"I remember them all, it's actually not that hard. You just need to remember the pattern," Yedam answers. He pulls a paper out of his folder handing it over to you. 

"What is that?" 

Yedam places it in front of you tapping at the top of the page, "This is how I remembered the formulas. They all follow a pattern. If you just study a little harder I'm sure you will get it." 

You sigh turning your head to face the window, "I don't think I am going to get it. I can't fail either because then I'll lose my scholarship." 

"You won't lose your scholarship. You have me here to help you study." He reminds you softly. 

"Yeah, but math makes me feel dumb. I'm so behind I don't know if I'll be able to catch up at this point." 

"That's why you're dating the smartest guy in school. Also, you not dumb don't say that. You are just as smart as me, we just have to unlock that part of you. Let's get started right now," 

You flip your head facing your boyfriend with a pout still on your face, but mumble very quietly, "Thank you." 

🐰 Doyoung

You make a mistake again. You've been stuck on this stupid dance move for the past week. When you try again the girls in the back of the class laugh pointing in your direction. You can hear the whispers. They want you to.

Finally, the frustration gets to you. Rushing over to the mirror you pick up your water bottle and store out the room heading to the locker room. Your head is down and you barely notice when you run straight into Doyoung. 

"Hey slow down," he said. 

"Sorry. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to pick you up today. Why were you walking with your head down?" Asked Doyoung just as the girls walked out of the studio. Visibility you tense up squeezing the water bottle a little tighter and you look down at your feet again. 

Doyoung is quick to catch on to the situation, "What did they say?" 

"Nothing. Can we go?" You mumble back.

"Not until you tell me what those girls did or said to you," he grabs onto your chin tilting your head up so you are looking at him. 

A tear runs down your face and a few more follow. Doyoung naturally pulls you into a hug having you place your face on his shoulder ao the girls won't see you crying. 

"Love, we should get out of the hallway. Come on you can come home with me. My mom would love it if you joined us for dinner," he's still holding onto you when he says this. His shoulder is now wet from all your tears, but you manage to nod. Dinner does sound nice. 

🐏 Haruto

"I don't think we should be having this conversation right now," you say leaning up against your locker. 

Haruto shakes his head in denial, "We have to at some point. You can't keep avoiding the inevitable." 

"I know that Haruto, but we have cram school now. Can't this wait till this weekend?" 

"No, it can't. I don't want to leave with the thought of you not being happy. I am sorry I didn't tell you, but it was really sudden," he explains softly. He reaches for your hand that is fallen at your side intertwining your hands together, "I wish you could go with me. Just don't be sad we can have someone send me a video of your performance or something." 

Haruto would be leaving next week the week of your first solo performance. He hadn't told you until 3 days before he had to leave. Anger didn't take over you sadness did instead. It was your first performance ever. Having Haruto there would have made it 100 times more special. 

Letting out a shaky breath you slowly rub his knuckles looking down at your hands, "I could just pass up the solo to someone else. I don't think I want to do it if you aren't there to watch." 

"No, you can't do that. This is way too important. Just send me a video. I'll call you before and after your performance, so you can tell me all about it. Just don't feel sad okay get on stage and kill it. Okay?" 

"Okay, I will." 

🐺 Jeongwoo

"During the break, you should come to Iksan with me," Jeongwoo states randomly. 

"Which break? Upcoming or summer?" You question eyebrows frowned a bit. 

"Upcoming. I already have a bunch of stuff planned. Plus my parents have a few things they want to show you as well," he replies. 

"Oh, Jeongwoo I'm sorry I don't think I will be able to go," you say. This upcoming break you have plans to travel back home to see family. It's been a while since you have seen them in person. 

"Why not? Did you make plans?" He has a frown on his face now. 

Nodding you respond, "I was going to travel back to see my family. I actually was going to tell you today." 

Jeongwoo starts to pick at his sweater now. He was so excited and now all his plans are going to go to waste.

"You should go see your family. We can always do the Iksan trip in the summer," he states, but he is still picking at his sleeve obviously upset by the information. 

"I'm sorry. If I had known you wanted to do something I would have never made my plans," you say. 

Jeongwoo sighs but then smiles, "No it's fine you haven't seen your family in a long time. Who am I to come in between that. Look, you have fun with them. When you come back we can go to Iksan and have a blast then." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Of course. Besides your family will be my family one day I can't push them away." The blush that spreads across your face is nothing compared to the tingle you feel in your stomach. Jeongwoo really is the best boyfriend ever. 

🐮 Junghwan 

"Are you mad at me?" Junghwan asks at lunch. 

You shake your head, "No I'm not mad at you." 

"Then why have you been ignoring me all day?" Junghwan questions. 

Shrugging you take a sip of your chocolate milk, "I haven't been ignoring you I just don't feel like talking to anyone today." 

He nods at the answer and you can see that he still wants to question what the real answer is so you give just a little more background, "I don't think the girls in my class like me." 

Junghwan stops eating, setting down his spoon. The mood turns serious, "Why are they bullying you? What did they say?" 

"It was nothing don't worry about it," 

"It was obviously something. Come on just tell me," he says shifting forward in his seat. 

You rub your hand on your skirt feeling your shoulders fall back, "They just said that you could do better. They don't think you actually like me." 

"You don't believe them right? Only you could really know how I feel. Those girls know nothing about us. They only know what they can see from the outside. Plus I really do like you," he flushes at the end of his own sentence. You know he is right so you don't respond back. Just smile and you both finish your lunch together.

-

Thank you for reading and enjoying~!

Requested by : @harukyoshi​

[rfamess]

This cured my boredom for a little bit. Was making a few new music playlists and thought.. hmm. I wonder what kind of music the RFA listens to? So, I made this. For no reason at all.

What Kind of Music the RFA + V/Saeran Listen To:

Saeyoung/707:

- (I always see people writing that he’d listen to all star or other cringe meme songs because that’s what seems to be his entire personality, but I like to think he has more substance than that and listens to songs that don’t have to do with memes.)

- He definitely listens to rap/hip-hop.

- Can you not imagine him driving down the road in his cars, windows down, music blasting?

- He listens to his music uber loud in his headphones while working.

- His favorite artist is probably Tyler the creator, i mean, how could you not love him.

- Listens to Mac Miller when he’s sad :(

PLAYLIST:

Who Dat Boy - Tyler the Creator

Stutter - Freddie Dredd

Evil Fantasy - Freddie Dredd

Sweatpants - Childish Gambino

Bounce - Logic

Dead Wrong - Notorious B.I.G.

Movement - Oliver Tree

Stick to Your Guns - Watsky

Both - Gucci Mane

No Sleep Till Brooklyn - Beastie Boys

Can I Kick It - A Tribe Called Quest

No Limit - G Easy

Circles - Mac Miller

Broke Bitch - TMG (lol)

Bonfire - Childish Gambino

I THINK - Tyler the Creator

Good News - Mac Miller

I - Kendrick Lamar

FACE - Brockhampton

King Kunta - Kendrick Lamar

Lovely Things Suite: Knots - Watsky

Zen:

- (Similar to Saeyoung, I don’t believe Zens entire personality revolves around musicals, he probably doesn’t listen to them that often imo.)

- I like to think he’s a... well rounded individual when it comes to music

- Listens to anything and everything.

- I could see him listening to the same music as Seven, but is also very into 70s-90s rock like the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the like.

- He runs listening to all of his music on shuffle and doesn’t have a specific playlist so there’s never a certain vibe to it— it really is all over the place.

- In addition to Seven’s playlist, here’s Zen’s

PLAYLIST:

Funny Face - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Santeria - Sublime

Badfish - Sublime

The Luck You Got - The High Strung

Dedicated to the One I Love - The Mamas and the Papas

Heart of Glass - Blondie

Come as You Are - Nirvana

Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison

Machu Picchu - The Strokes

Dirty Harry - Gorillaz

Love of Your Life - Red Hot Chili Peppers

The Adults Are Talking - The Strokes

Bailee - The Licks

Where is my Mind - Pixies

Hurt Like Mine - The Black Keys

Gap - The Kooks

Give it Away - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand

Hoops - The Rubens

Conquest - The White Stripes

Ten Cent Pistol - The Black Keys

Yoosung:

- Yoosung likes more upbeat music, maybe more new age/alternative pop

- Listens to music every time he tries to study, but usually get distracted by it and starts to sing along instead of actually doing his work

- Is probably trying to branch out of his style, Seven and Zen try to convince him to listen to their favorite genres

- The three of them always argue about who has the best taste in music lol

- He’s constantly wondering if his music is “manly” enough (it’s okay yoosung it’s just music)

- If this dude gets drunk and hears any of this music he goes absolutely wild and dances all over the place

PLAYLIST:

Bambi - Hippocampus

Turn - the Wombats

Paris - Magic Man

Chronic Sunshine - Cosmo Pike

Death of a Bachelor - Panic! At the Disco

Silvertongue - Young the Giant

Brazil - Declan McKenna

Unbelievers - Vampire Weekend

Baseball - Hippocampus

Australia - The Shins

Prune, You Talk Funny - Gus Dapperton

Honeypie - JAWNY

Alien Boy - Oliver Tree

Satellite - Guster

So Young - Portugal. The Man

Blinding Lights - The Weeknd

Circles - Post Malone

Unbearably White - Vampire Weekend

Tiny Umbrella - Coast Modern

Way it Goes - Hippocampus

Electric Feel - MGMT

Jumin:

- this guy has 2 modes and that’s it: classical bitch or music that has words

- He appreciates the fine art of classical music and listens to it when he has work to get done or when he’s trying to relax.

- If he’s in a good mood he’ll put on a playlist that includes “music with actual lyrics!”

- It’s a dad playlist. Billy Joel, Billy Joel, Billy Joel, Elton John, The Beatles, Billy Joel.

- He likes Billy Joel. Jumin has a dad personality you can’t convince me otherwise lol

- He tried to branch out but can get very picky in his interests. “I don’t like this guitar riff— change it”

- Either way his 2 modes are apparent in his playlists

PLAYLIST:

Dreams - Fleetwood Mac

California Dreamin’ - The Mamas and the Papas

Don’t Ask Me Why - Billy Joel

Starman - David Bowie

Miss You - The Rolling Stones

Dancing in the Moonlight - King Harvest

Come and Get Your Love - Redbone

It’s Too Late - Carole King

Movin’ Out - Billy Joel

A Horse With No Name - America

I Want to Hold Your Hand - The Beatles

Honky Cat - Elton John

Vienna - Billy Joel

The Stranger - Billy Joel

Waltz in A Minor - Chopin

Hungarian Dance No. 5 in G Minor - Brahms

Waltz No. 7 in C Sharp Minor, Op. 64, No. 2 - Chopin

Souvenir de Paganini - Chopin

Solfeggietto in C Minor - Bach

Prelude in B Minor, Op. 32, No. 10 - Rachmaninoff

IV. Allegro Molto From Quartet - Yo-Yo Ma

La Fille Aux Cheveux de Lin - Debussy

Porz Goret - Yann Tiersen

Carnival of the Animals: VII. Aquarium - Camille Saint-Saëns

Carnival of the Animals: XIII. The Swan - Camille Saint-Saëns

Jaehee:

- We all know her obsession with Musicals (specifically zens)

- Other than this she listens to...well honestly I don’t know

- Her music doubles as something she can get hyped up with and something she can listen to to relax.

- She loves to dance, so a lot of her songs and just songs that she’ll never be able to refuse to move her feet to!

- She likes the old classics and then she likes Doja Cat. Lizzo? Queen.

- She’s a barb let’s be real please. you can never convince me that she’s not

PLAYLIST:

Adore You - Harry Styles

She - Harry Styles

Call Me - Blondie

Starships - Nicki Minaj

Hey Mickey - Toni Basil

Juice - Lizzo

Say So - Doja Cat

Voulez-Vous - ABBA

Waterloo - ABBA

Cuz I Love You - Lizzo

Killing Me Softly With His Song - Roberta Flack (LOL the memories associated with this song after Killing Stalking..... hahahaha BUT ITS STILL A GREAT SONG!)

Only - Nicki Minaj

Boss Bitch - Doja Cat

Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac

Beez in the Trap - Nicki Minaj

Woman - Harry Styles

9 to 5 - Dolly Parton

Blame it on the Boogie - Michael Jackson

One Way or Another - Blondie

Tia Tamera - Doja Cat

Truth Hurts - Lizzo

V:

- indie boy indie boy indie boy indie boy

- Cmon just look at him he’s an indie boy

- If you’ve ever met a film student that gatekeeps music, they have the same exact taste but V won’t say shit to make you feel stupid. It’s just music bruv

- If you’ve ever been to an indie concert you know the fuckin dance you know what I’m talking about. he does that.

- Rolls a joint, pops the music off and he paints, does photography, whatever. Either way he straight vibes every single time the tunes come on.

- Low key thinks he has the best music taste. that’s just how dem indie kids roll let’s be real here.

- For some reason knows everything about every type of music. will spew facts about artists and songs at random

PLAYLIST:

Shuggie - Foxygen

Necessary Evil - Unknown Mortal Orchestra

Homage - Mild High Club

Another One - Mac DeMarco

Plants - Crumb

What Once Was - Her’s

Heart and My Car - Summer Salt

Cottage Roads - The Walters

Moonlight on the River - Mac DeMarco

Work This Time - King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

Like Yesterday - Paul Cherry

Call it Fate, Call it Karma - The Strokes

Knowhere - Nick DeLaurentis

Escargot Blues - Guantánamo Bay Surf Club

A Side / B Side - Tipling Rock

Dark Red - Steve Lacy

That I Miss You - Vansire

Top Tier Love - Lonely Benson

Driving to Hawaii - Summer Salt

Taking Up Space - Mustard Service

She’s the Only One - King Guru

Saeran:

- emo boy emo boy emo boy

- We all know it

- As much as I’d love to say he listens to heavy death metal, there’s a part of my mind saying NO he’s not like that.

- Well he is, but he’s got more than a few single interest

- Probably listens to Nirvana, Cage the Elephant, anything similar

- Is always trying to listen to new music

- Kind of sick of Seven blasting his music all the time and listens to the opposite of hip hop whenever possible

- Honestly enjoys all types of music, but sticks to his favorites

PLAYLIST:

- All Apologies - Nirvana

- Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene - Hozier

- Soma - The Strokes

- Black Madonna - Cage the Elephant

- Hysteria - Muse

- Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High - Arctic Monkeys

- I Got Mine - The Black Keys

- Supermassive Black Hole - Muse

- Under the Bridge - Red Hot Chili Peppers

- Back Against the Wall - Cage the Elephant

- Creep - Radiohead

- Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana

- Demon Days - Gorillaz

- Bulls on Parade - Rage Against The Machine

- Matador - The Buttertones

- Holiday - Green Day

- RIP - The Licks

- London Calling - The Clash

- Loser - Beck

- What I Got - Sublime

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker - Panty Raid

For the amazing prompt

I just learned that panty raids were a thing, and idk how you feel about it, but imagine Tony being forced to do a panty raid as an initiation for his fraternity. So tony, keeping up his playboy appearances, sneaks into the omega dorms. And he sees sweet innocent peter who is so alarmed by the alphas raiding their dorm tony can’t help but comfort him.

TW: a/o dyamics, sneaking into someone’s room, general not amazing Alpha behaviour (not Tony though, our boy is a saint) 

“You’re not serious?” 

A red thong hits him in the face and Tony sighs.

Okay, so they are serious. He pulls the offending lingerie off from where it’s caught on his ear, and flings it back towards Quinten and the shit-eating grin on his face. “You want us to do an actual ‘panty raid’? Have I slipped back into the 80s?”

“Shut it, Stark,” Beck warns, waggling a finger like the college freshman are eleven, not eighteen. “This is a tradition. You wanna be part of this frat? This is what we do instead of hazing. A little ritual. Every alpha who becomes a member, has to sneak into the omega sorority and steal a pair of panties.” Beck shrugs, “if you don’t wanna join, you don’t have to do it.”

Some of the other pledges look nervous. Some of the others look excited. Tony sneers at the latter. He shrugs, and turns for the door. “I’m not gonna risk sexual harassment on my record.” He informs the older boy primly. “There are other fraternities, ones that aren’t so perverse.”

“Sure,” Beck drawls, letting him leave, “some alphas just aren’t strong enough.”

Tony snorts, rolling his eyes. “Oh sure, reverse psychology, that’ll work.”

*

The Omega sorority is nestled right in the heart of campus, where the most regular patrols and heaviest security go by. It’s bullshit tradition, because omegas aren’t really in danger from most Alphas- except ones like Beck and their bullshit fraternity traditions. 

Tony bets Beck didn’t get laid until college. Bets he only made up the stupid rule so he could get close to an omega without them rejecting him. 

It feels dirty. And not just because they’re literally crawling through the mud to get through the hole in the white-picket fence that surrounds the sorority grounds, but because stealing things from Omegas, breaking into their private accommodation, is slimy and Tony is suave and sophisticated and charismatic. 

He is not slimy. 

“Do you think-” Clint pants from next to him, elbow deep in the rose bed they’re clambering out of, “-they’ll keep their toys near their underwear? Beck says if we can bring back a knotting dildo, we get extra points.”

Tony cuffs him hard on the back of the head.

“Hey!” Clint whines.

“Have some class.” Tony snaps, helping the other boy up as they finally make it to the back entrance. “Omegas are sweethearts. They’re not just fuckin’ sex objects like in the porn you jerk it to, capiche?”

Clint looks abashed. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Tony sighs. 

It’s easy enough to pop the lock exactly how Beck told them. It’s clearly been done many times before.

The ten of them shuffle in, and they all fan out towards the different rooms.

Tony heads for the one nearer the huge window, for an easy escape.

The door is covered with motivational posters, and sharp silhouettes of ballet dancers and a white board that says Drop in anytime!!! :) 

It’s fucking cute.

Tony tries the door, and sure enough, like most of the doors- it’s open.

It’s warm and dark as he slips inside, shutting it quietly behind him.

There are two beds, one on either side, but only one is occupied. A sleeping figure, thankfully facing the wall, breathes softly. Tony can’t make out anything but a mop of curls that spill across the silk pillows in the moonlight.

He pads towards the chest of drawers, feeling stupid and reckless.

It smells divine in here. Decorated in gentle tones of pink and warm brown, it’s incredibly tidy, and there are piles of organised notes on the desk.

He eases the top drawer open, and sure enough- there are neatly stacked lace panties.

He grabs one. It’s soft as anything against his fingers, and he hastily crams it into his pocket when-

There’s a whimper, and Tony whirls around to see the most beautiful omega in the world, knees drawn up to his chest, staring at him with huge eyes; cast silver in the light.

“Please-” the omega chokes out, sounding tiny, pressing himself further into the wall, “please don’t- I don’t- Help! Help!” He screams at the top of his voice, and Tony jumps in fright, startling, and he hurries towards the boy, hands up in surrender.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay-” he soothes, his own voice tinged with desperation, as the boy keeps wailing, scrambling against the blankets in his haste to get away- he ends up tripping, falling out of the bed, his ankle catches in the sheets, and he knocks his head hard against the bedside table.

Then he starts to cry.

Tony curses, worry welling up, and he flicks on the lamp, and crouches down, scooping the little omega into his arms.

“Shit, shit, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers, laying the boy on the bed. He brushes his fingers through those curls, and winces as he sees the small red mark start to appear on his forehead. “Oh god, oh my god, I’m so sorry.” 

In the gold light of the lamp, the omega is all milk skin and pretty pink nightclothes, and crystal tears on his cheeks.

Tony feels like such a shit. 

“W-what are you- d-doing in here?” The omega sniffles.

“It’s a stupid hazing thing, we had to- steal some of your-” he cringes, “-underwear, it’s- it’s awful. It wasn’t my idea, I swear I was against it.”

The omega blinks slowly, before his eyebrows furrow together. “It’s all just a hazing thing?” He clarifies quietly, and Tony nods.

“Yeah, I’m- I’m really sorry. Can I get you something? Do you need- water? Or…”

“I have a bottle, over there,” the omega murmurs, pointing to his desk, and Tony almost trips over his feet in his haste to get it.

The omega half smiles. “I’m Peter,” he says, and Tony stands by the edge of the bed, grinning tiredly.

“Nice to meet you, Peter, I’m Tony. I’m- I’m really sorry I scared you, I really wasn’t- I wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

“I know that now.” Peter whispers, sipping some water. “I just- when I was in highschool some of the Alphas snuck into the omega changing room one time, and they-” tears sparkle anew, and Tony sits on the edge of the bed, clutching Peter’s hand, “-they were so mean. Started saying just- just horrible stuff about me an-and my friends, like we were- just things, and not-not even people.” 

Tony closes his eyes, pain blossoming hard. “Jesus,” he mutters, rubbing at his face. “I’m- I’m so fucking sorry, peter, I- I should have stopped them, I-...I’m sorry.” 

How could someone do that? How could someone hurt such a beautiful omega? An omega so sweet? So gentle? 

“It’s okay,” Peter whispers, and when Tony opens his eyes, those huge honey ones are looking at him- thoughtful and kind. “My roommate’s away this weekend, so you’re lucky. She’s got a mean right hook.”

Tony snorts, “I think I’m pretty lucky anyway. Of all the rooms, I picked yours. Don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful omega.”

Peter blushes hard, cheeks a deep, gorgeous crimson. 

Tony reaches over and thumbs the red mark from where Peter’s hit his head and sighs. “I’m so sorry.”

“You said that already,” the smaller boy points out, voice soft, and Tony wants to lean in. Wants to kiss him. “Did you get any?”

“Any what?”

“Of my underwear.”

“Oh.” Tony blushes, “uh- yeah.” He sticks his hand in his pocket and presents the panties. A little crumpled.

Peter smiles, before rolling out of bed. “Those aren’t going to win you anything.” He says, and Tony watches as the boy kneels down and opens the bottom drawer of the cabinet. “These are what will.”

Tony catches the beaded thong with a slack-jaw. The pearls and white lace are fucking sublime. “You don’t have to-”

“I know,” the omega waves him off, “but I think you’re sweet.”

“I’m sweet?” Tony laughs, shaking his head, “you’re sweet.”

He wants to ask for his number, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t think it would be appropriate.

So instead, he slips out into the corridor. It’s deserted, and by the time he gets back to the frat, he sees all the other alphas there too.

“Holy shit!” Clint yells when he sees him, “how’d you make it out of there? We all bailed when we heard some omega screaming!”

Peter. Tony thinks with a frown, before looking around and realising that all of the alphas look scared and- disappointed.

“You all fail.” Beck sighs, turning to Tony, “unless, Stark’s managed to wrangle a pair…?”

Tony feels the pearls in his pocket, and shakes his head. He doesn’t want anyone to see them. Doesn’t want anyone to render a person into an item of clothing to be leered at. “I don’t have anything. So your shitty frat doesn’t get any new pledges this year. And after I tell the Dean what you’ve been doing- I’m not sure it ever will.”

The look on Beck’s face is one Tony will savour.

***

It isn’t until a few months later, for a party at Tony’s new fraternity- that he sees Peter again.

Drawn to him like a siren, Tony moves through the sea of hazy dancing, until he’s close enough to reach down and kiss Peter’s cheek.

The omega looks up and smiles. “I hoped I’d find you here.”

Tony grins, heart in his throat, “yeah? I wanted to- to come and talk to you, but I thought you might not want anything to do with me.”

Peter threads their fingers together, and tiptoes on his heels to whisper into Tony’s ear: “I want you to take my panties again. With your teeth this time.” 

And tugs him towards one of the bedrooms.

Clint will say he saw Tony drooling later, as he was led like a dog on a leash by an omega into a spare bedroom, and Tony won’t even deny it. 

He’s too happy to care.

He has a date.

[utterlyinevitable]

Could you please, please write OH3 Bryce X Becca angsty break-up piece but with happy ending this time? Please and thank you!♡

Of course 💕

[Part 1 is here.]

Bryce x Becca OHSY/OH3 Breakup (Part 2) 

Bryce didn’t know where he was going. It was late and he really didn’t want to do the 5-hour drive back to Boston. 

So he texted his sister. 

He could make it to her school in 2.5 hours if he caught the last ferry to Connecticut, that way he could decompress and wouldn’t have to drive for an hour.  

Becca sat in her apartment, stunned, for under two minutes. This couldn’t possibly be the end. Could it? 

In sheer panic, she threw on a cardigan and her slippers and ran downstairs. 

She hoped to god he was just sitting on the stoop stewing in their tiff. 

But he wasn’t. 

And his car wasn’t parked at the curb anymore. 

Becca ran back inside, taking the two flights of stairs two steps at a time, to call him. 

No answer. 

She called again. 

Nothing. 

And again. 

Straight to voicemail. 

So she texted. 

She texted everything she was feeling and every reason why she couldn’t decide. Why she didn’t know what she wanted. Why she was caught off guard and everything was moving faster than the earth on its axis. 

She told him she loved him, and that she never could have imagined the amount of happiness she feels with him. 

She told him everything. 

And she told him that she’s scared. That she feels like she’s been running away for a while. That there’s so much in life she didn’t know she wanted to experience. But she wanted to do them with him. 

She was afraid and it was a mistake and please just come back. 

Bryce didn’t get any of those messages. 

He muted her number until he got his head straight. 

Becca grabbed her computer and booked the next chartered flight to Boston. 

Bryce got to Keiki’s boarding school at 2AM. 

She was waiting for him in the visitor’s parking lot with a guest pass she printed off for the car.  “Are you okay?”  “I’ll be fine. Just need to sleep it off.” 

They walked to her dorm in relative silence. 

Her roommate was excited to have the hot surgeon brother stay with them. That excitement quickly faltered when he barely acknowledged her. 

The two teens complied as many blankets and pillows as they could get their hands on to make Bryce a comfortable makeshift bed on the floor. 

He didn’t care. He flopped into the pile, clutching a pillow and trying to will himself to sleep. 

It didn’t work. 

His mind was racing and he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to beg her to reconsider. 

He wanted to understand why she didn’t love him just as much. 

He also really really really needed a drink.  _

It was 4AM when she landed in Boston. 

Becca called the one person she could count on at world-shattering times like these. 

Ethan was waiting for her at arrivals. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” “That depends on if I can have my job back or not.” “Done. But that was a simple phone call. Why am I picking you up at the airport at such an ungodly hour?” 

She told him that she made the biggest mistake. She told him this is her grand romantic gesture. 

He drove her to Bryce’s apartment. 

Becca banged on the door. She made as much noise as she could to stir a possibly exhausted man on the other side.  

When nothing happened, she waited outside. Stubbornly sitting outside his apartment door for two hours before calling her friends. 

No one heard from him and Becca was less than inclined to tell them the full story of their fight. 

Instead of going right home, Bryce spent the rest of the weekend with Keiki trying to forget. 

Becca crashed with Sienna. She’d go back to Bryce’s every few hours to see if he was there. 

Her antics and worrisome pacing got so ridiculous that Elijah and Jackie reached out to Bryce, but all he responded was: “I’m fine.” 

Becca took the news better than any of them thought. She nodded one and plastered on a smile. 

Then she was out the door. 

Becca used the rest of her time in Boston wisely.  

Mostly liaising with Ethan about the job. 

She was erratic and wanted to start ASAP. She’d give up everything for Bryce in that moment. 

Her fear of losing him was greater than her career aspirations. 

Ethan wouldn’t let her make a rash decision based on frivolous emotions.  “Finish your last five months of residency at Weill. I can offer you a job immediately after.”  “It’s got to be now. You just don’t understand, Ethan.”  “Have you spoken with Lahela since the fight?”  “No, and that’s why I need to be back in Boston ASAP.”  “Don’t do something stupid and uninformed.” 

She stormed out of his office on the verge of tears. 

It had been 38 hours since Bryce left her in New York, and not a single sign of him coming back to her. 

The last time she knocked on his door was a half-assed effort. Her knuckles gently grazing the wood. She wasn’t hopeful at all. 

She also had two hours to kill until her train back.

Still no answer. 

Becca leaned her forehead against the door, regretting every single thing that happened to get them to this point. If she would have just put someone else first and not been so self-centered, she could have had that coveted Happily Ever After. 

Bryce was a once in a lifetime lover. 

She fell to the floor and cried one last time. 

She wasn’t sure how long she was huddled there. 

It was long enough for people to notice her. 

“Can I help you?” 

Becca looked up at the figure. 

Through her tears she could see him. 

Through her sobs she choked out, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

He kept his hands deep in his pockets. He wanted to get past her and into his apartment. But he stood there. If he moved towards her he’d invite her in. Into his apartment, into his arms, into his heart. 

“What’re you doing here, Rebecca?” 

The tears started flowing freely, tragically. He never ever called her by her full name and now he’s done it twice. She was always ‘Becks’ to him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- We can work through this.”  “I don’t think we can. You either want a life with me or you don’t. And from the looks of it, you don’t.”  “I do, Bryce. I do. Truly.”  “Could have fooled me.” 

She stood up finally. 

Bryce took advantage of the bit of space between them, enough to unlock the door. 

She felt the ice coming off his shoulder. 

So she reiterated everything. 

From her fears to her feelings to what she thinks she needs and knows she wants. 

And she told him about asking Ethan for her job back and moving back here for him.  

Bryce was stuck in place. In his doorway, stuck between shutting her out and letting her in. 

“I think you should stay in New York.”  “What-”  “Finish your residency. That’s the most important thing.” 

His broken amber eyes finally met hers. 

“Then what?”  He said the next words sarcastically and so full of light malice; “What do you want me to say?”  “Ask me. Ask me again.” 

Bryce watched the tears build up and the desperation overtake her. 

“Ask me to come back to Edenbrook. Ask me to move in. Ask me again, Bryce, please.” 

They implored one another. The silence between them getting greater and greater. Neither really sure of what they were doing anymore. What the point of all of this was. 

Every single memory and vision of their wishful future played out before him. 

Of them living in this apartment for the next few years. Of them moving out of the city and buying a house in the suburbs, somewhere near the beach. Of them at Keiki’s graduation and moving her into her college dorm. Of showing her where he grew up and having a romantic evening overlooking the sunset. Of her formally agreeing to everything. Of them planning the best party with all their loved ones. Of them welcoming the twins she’s always wanted. And of all the ways she’s looked at him with that sleepy smile every morning and every evening. Of them being there together every step of the way, side by side the way they belonged. 

The sweetness overcame him. 

“If I do, you have to promise me one thing. And you can’t take it back, it’ll be set in stone.”  “Anything,” she nodded. 

Bryce said the next words slow and with the most honest of intentions. They were confident and vulnerable. 

“Marry me.” 

Her eyes went wide. Suddenly all the tears had dried up and the stains across her cheeks stung. 

Bryce continued; “If I ask you again, you have to promise you’ll marry me when my residency is over. Three years. Because I’m not doing this for nothing, Becks. You’re it for me.” 

They looked at each other one last time. 

He had given her one last out. 

She wiped whatever remnants of the turmoil from her face with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Ask me.” 

Bryce smiled. His megawatt smile peering through the sadness. 

“Move in with me, Becks? Let’s start our lives together right here in Boston.” 

She bit her lip. 

Becca smiled back;  “Yes.”