#like sometimes she says my name so incredulously in response to things i say as if i'm like. ten screws lose or smth.

[homelyhoney]

ughhh I'm feeling out of sync and a little at odds w my best friend rn which BLOWS

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader gets into a fight, this fits into the weirdo! shouto ficlet i wrote, older bro touya au, shouto's scar, kindaaa non neurotypical shouto hinted if you squint lol, shouto n reader are lil misfits, lemme know if i missed sum else !

"can i help you, young man ?"

"i hurt my knee."

you're laying in the nurses office when a familiar voice hits your ears.

"oh really ?" no verbal response but you assume there's a nod because the nurse continues "what happened ?" she sounds skeptical.

"i fell." the person, a boy, replies. the nurse sighs, complaining to herself about kids these days coming to the nurses office for every little thing. you're still pretending to be asleep, not wanting to go back to class yet because you know your classmates won't leave you alone. your face is turned away as you hear the office door shut and soon after there's shuffling in the bed next to you.

your eyes snap open and you turn to see a scarred boy looking right at you, blinking slowly.

"shouto !"

"hi." he answers simply. unmoving, he lays on his stomach. after getting over your shock you copy him. "what're you doing here ?" you ask. your friend blinks in response.

"i hurt my knee."

you look at him incredulously "what are you really doing here ?"

shouto lays quietly simply staring at you. he has a habit of doing that, you've heard your classmates call it weird, but you like when he looks at you. his eyes are pretty. his gaze trails off towards the sheets, "i wanted to come see you." he admits. your eyes widen and you feel your ears burn. shouto doesn't seem affected by his confession, his face as deadpan as it usually is.

"everyone is talking about you in class." your nose scrunches up at his words, huffing with a scowl. "what're they saying ?"

"that you won."

that makes your scowl shrink a bit. your eyebrows raise and you shuffle a bit on the bed and hum. shouto only stares. he isn't much of a talker. you've noticed it's because he just doesn't realise that you're supposed to keep making conversation when you're talking with someone. your classmate mahoro says it makes things awkward, but shouto has such kind eyes when he looks at you, you don't mind. and sometimes, you don't really feel like talking either.

"you didn't have to do that you know." is what he says after a while, you blink at him like you'd already forgotten and he continues. "you didn't have to push tanaka like that, it wasn't a big deal."

tanaka, just the mention of the boy's name is enough to make your scowl return full force.

he's one of your classmates that keeps making jokes that all his other friends laugh at that aren't even funny. he doesn't bother you much, but he's kind of a bully and he makes a face whenever you end up on his team for dodgeball. he makes sure you see it too.

you don't care about him much, because he doesn't bother you. but he bothers shouto. you think he does so because shouto doesn't care to confront him about it so he thinks he's stupid. but shouto's the smartest in your class. today though, he went too far and it made you mad, so you shoved him and he'd shoved you back and suddenly you were surrounded by a group of kids screaming in your ears. your face stung from where he'd hit you and then a teacher was pulling you away from him. then you'd ended up here.

shouto hadn't been coming to school for a bit a while ago and when he did come back he had a huge bandage over his left eye. you'd tried to ask him about it but he never told you. so you never pried, but you heard the (not so quiet) whispers from your classmates and shouto who never seemed like he cared, furrowed his brows and slightly clenched his fists underneath your shared desk whenever he'd hear them. and it got worse when he took the bandage off, revealing a big red blotchy scar.

shouto doesn't usually mind what people think, but he'd asked you if he looked ugly and you assured him that you thought he looked super cool. (you'd never seen his eyes so wide and shiny, so pretty.)

tanaka had disagreed with you though. he opened his big mouth and told shouto he looked better with his bandage on. and you'd snapped. you hated that stupid bandage because it'd make his usual face so gloomy. because you only got to see one of his kind eyes and you loved looking at both.

and so, here you were.

"he had it comin', he made fun of you !" you scowl, shouto's brows furrow the slightest bit as well, mildly irritated. "but you got in trouble."

"well, he made fun of you !" you repeat. you both stay unmoving, laying on your stomach while the nurse is out on lunch break. shouto's lips move up into a pout and for the first time ever you hear him huff.

"i wasn't mad about it. i was fine." he insists, his eyes drift towards his fingers picking at his sheets. "you got hurt because of me, and i don't like that." he mumbles sadly. his cheek smushed against the hard pillow makes him look like a little puppy. you hear your heart in your ears.

"well, i didn't just do it for you," you try, "tanaka's always pickin' on everyone, so i taught him a lesson." you huff. you believed you sounded convincing, but shouto looks anything but convinced. others can't see it well, but you can.

"but everyone's gonna think you did it for me. and they're gonna call you weird again," shouto grips and pulls at the white sheets, you're worried they'll rip off and he'll get in trouble. "even though you're not."

you don't care, you'd been called weird plenty of times at your old school. but shouto's bothered for you and your heart beats in your ears "do you think i'm weird ?" shouto quickly shakes his head, as best he can in the position he's in. your chest feels warm and you smile.

"then i don't care what everyone thinks."

the sound of sheets crinkling stops, and shouto stares at you again. he sits up to instead go sit down on your bed. you bring your legs closer to yourself to make space for him.

"i still don't want you to get hurt, even if it's not just for me." his pretty eyes, one surrounded by red zero on you " i don't like it."

shouto never seemed picky to you. except when it came to his lunch (which was always cold soba) and the order in which he started his day at school (first he changes his shoes, then he takes off his jacket and then went to sit in his seat. exactly like this every day.)

he never told you he particularly liked or disliked anything, usually always shrugging. but he said he doesn't like seeing you hurt. it had made him panic when people started pushing him away to see the fight and he couldn't see you anymore. your classmates were talking about you and he didn't like it. the nurse stood in his way and he didn't like it because she kept him away from you for longer.

he does not like tanaka because he'd punched you in the cheek, your cheek that rises up like the sun when you smile at him.

i don't like when you get hurt, he says. i don't want you to hurt because of me, he thinks. you've got a bandaid on your cheek where you'd gotten punched, but you grin and your cheek rises like the sun, shouto hears his heart in his ears.

you hold out your pinky and promise him you won't do it anymore. holding onto your pinky is comfortable and even after promising he doesn't let go. not even when the nurse checks up on you and scolds you when you shamelessly tell her why you'd landed in her office. he doesn't let go in the hallways even when others are looking. they'll think you're weird for hanging out with him, but you told him you didn't care, and shouto feels like he's floating.

( he only lets go when you get to the principal's office. but he ignores the teacher who passed by and told him to get to class and wraps his pinky right back around yours when you walk back out. your smile is pretty like the sun.)

one time, touya-nii had called you weird, and touya-nii is always right. but this time shouto knows he's wrong. because your smile doesn't dim despite the bandaid on your cheek and you only look at him when you get back to class, despite the people calling for you, your pinky stays tightly wrapped around his, only moving so you can readjust and hold it better.

touya is clearly wrong, and shouto knows you're the nicest person in the world.

[calaisreno]

Cake

1146 words / Prompt: Laugh

Have some cake. It's my birthday.

Sherlock picks up his fork and examines the slice of cake before him. It’s yellow, with thick white icing and colourful sprinkles. 

John and Molly have already tasted their pieces and are talking about something. John makes a teasing remark about hearing aids. Apparently Sherlock has missed the question.

“Hm?”

John smiles at him. It’s a fond smile, but a sad one. Sherlock tries to remember the last time John looked happy. It’s been ages, he thinks. Even the smile on his face now isn’t truly happy. 

His wedding, maybe. He did smile a lot that day, but there was something ragged underneath. A kind of exhausted cheer. The days leading up the event were hectic, but it was worth it to give John and Mary a joyous day. Maybe it was relief Sherlock saw in those wedding smiles. Glad to have the big day go well, ready to wake up to a new life. 

The day Rosie was born, John’s smile was incredulous, full of wonder. But Sherlock could see he was terrified, too. It was the day it all became real, irrevocable. There was no going back for him and Mary. Nor for Sherlock. John was a father, and had responsibilities.

Unmingled joy. That’s what Sherlock is trying to remember. 

That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.

And you invaded Afghanistan.

It was the first time he heard John helpless with laughter. They’d stood inside the front door, leaning against the wall, giggling at the ridiculousness of what they’d just done, running through alleys and across rooftops. Welcome to London.

It was the moment when he first realised he wanted to kiss John. He wanted to hear that giggle of surrender again. To laugh every day with John and keep him forever.

It might have lasted, if Sherlock hadn’t created a problem that could only be solved by dying, leaving John alone for two years. 

He’d dreamed of coming home, hearing John laugh at his brilliant resurrection. He’d been so intent on that, he hadn’t realised. It may have been necessary to go away, but his return wasn’t as brilliant as he’d dreamed.

Well, then. Neither of them has been happy.

“You haven’t even tasted it,” John is saying. 

“Oh.” He lifts a bite to his mouth, smells vanilla, feels the icing melt on his tongue. “Delicious.” It is, and he takes another bite, even though he’s not hungry. 

John is smiling at him. 

He can’t stop thinking about John’s tears, just a half an hour ago in the flat. 

I’m not the man you thought I was. 

It’s not okay.

Well, it is what it is. John hasn’t been happy for a long time, he thinks. 

Though they never spoke of it, he knows John had mixed feelings about the marriage. A part of him loved Mary, but even though he forgave her, he never forgot:  what have I ever done… my whole life… to deserve you?

Mary wasn’t supposed to be like that. But she was. 

Sherlock wasn’t supposed to come back, but he did. 

John was supposed to be happy. He wasn’t.

Sometimes he thinks John might have been happy if Sherlock had stayed dead. He would have got over his best friend dying in front of him. He would have married and lived in the suburbs with his wife and child. His wife wouldn’t have shot Sherlock, and she wouldn’t have died, trying to protect him. He wouldn’t be raising his child alone. 

He eats his cake silently, pressing his fork into the last crumbs. 

“You’ve been quiet,” John says as they walk back to 221B. 

“Hm.” 

“About earlier… I’m sorry.” He huffs a small laugh. “Mood killer, for sure.”

He stops walking. “John.”

John is two paces ahead by the time Sherlock says his name. He turns and looks at Sherlock, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “What does happiness have to do with anything? Are you happy?”

“Well, no one can be happy all the time. But I consider myself an optimistic person. I expect I will be happy again.”

“Are you…” John licks his lips. “Will you contact her?”

“No. She knows what I am, and doesn’t expect it.”

“Sherlock, I know I was pushing when I said you should… I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want that. I just wish you weren’t so alone.”

“Not so alone. I have you.” 

Sherlock resumes walking; John falls into step with him.

“Yeah, a great friend I’ve been.”

“You’re not perfect, John. Neither am I. You shouldn’t hold yourself to an impossibly high standard. Happiness is more important. Do you know,” he says, turning to look at John, “some of my happiest moments have been spent with you.”

John sighs. “We’ve had some good times. I’ll never forget the months we lived together. You saved me. I was so lost, so alone…” Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles wistfully. “Do you remember that night, when we were chasing the cab, and I forgot my cane at the restaurant?” He giggles. “Oh, God. Down alleys, across the rooftops. Welcome to London. That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever done.”

Sherlock smiles. “Wanna see some more?”

“What are you saying?” John halts. 

Sherlock turns and faces him. “Come back. Move in with me, you and Rosie.”

John is gazing at him, his eyes soft. “Do you know what I wished for that night?”

“What did you wish, John?”

He looks down at his feet. “I wished… that I could spend the rest of my days running after you, trying to keep up. Giggling at crime scenes, running all over London, coming home and sitting in the evenings…” He sighs. “It can’t be like it was before. I have a child.”

“Another adventure I look forward to. We’ll hire a nanny, solve all the boring cases, and you’ll write them up for the blog. We’ll be together.” He puts his hands on John’s shoulders. “Come back to me.”

John shakes his head gravely. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Rosie’s a baby, and soon she’ll be toddling around, getting into everything.”

“That’s what babies do. They grow into children, and eventually leave home. And you’ll miss her then. I want to see her grow up, too. I want to be there when you send her off to uni. I want to help plan her wedding, hold your first grandchild. I want to retire to a cottage in Sussex with you and keep bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes, John. Do keep up. If you don’t like bees, you ought to have plenty of cases to write up by then.”

John brushes tears from his eyes. “What are you saying?”

In answer, he puts his arms around John. “You said love would complete me as a human being. I’m saying, it already has.”

[elvenisms]

on my doorstep —; e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader [5.6k]

summary: An unexpected gift exchange between you and Eddie leads to an eventful Valentine's Day. 18+ MDNI

cw: smut, fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, first i love yous (':, sub!eddie if you squint, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (as always, don't do this), lovesick idiots and emotional sex.

author's note: getting this up literally ten minutes before valentine's day ends! woohoo! got carried away (as i often do), hope u like it. <3

masterlist

February 10th, 1986

It was a somewhat chilly day in Hawkins, the wind whipping around dead leaves that hadn’t yet been raked, the trees prickly and barren. Forest Hills looked its best like this, you thought; you were never one for hot summer days, or freezing winter nights.

Inside your trailer, Nancy was pouring a cup of coffee, wearing a matching set of pajamas that was oh-so her. That alone made her look more put together than you or Robin, clad in baggy, mismatched sweats. 

“What time do you work, Robs?” You asked mid-yawn, blankets pooling around where you sat on the couch.

She frowned beside you, squeezed her eyes shut, and threw her head back dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”

“Can’t Steve cover for you?” Nancy rounded the corner with two steaming cups, handing them off to the two of you. “He kinda owes you. You covered for him for that date last week.”

“That is a great observation.” Robin pointed a finger at the girl, as if she’d forgotten. “I’ll call him.”

Knock, knock, knock. All three of your heads flew to the door, then back at each other, brows furrowed. 

“Expecting someone?” Nancy asked, and you shook your head in response.

Curious, you threw the blankets off of you, cradling your cup of coffee as you approached the door. Maybe the kids skipped school, had some adventure planned? Maybe Eddie was bored?

You unlocked it, then swung it open—no one was there.

You looked down, confused, and were met with a sea of red; a bouquet of roses, neatly organized inside a vase, sat on your porch. On top, a small note with your name written on it. 

Your jaw dropped slightly in shock. You’d almost forgotten that Valentine’s Day was fast approaching, and certainly didn’t anticipate getting any gifts. You’d been single for almost a year, and not exactly searching.

No reason, really. It just never felt right.

You picked up the bouquet, wide eyes scanning the park for any sign of who dropped it off, but you didn’t see a thing. 

When you turned around, Robin almost spat out her coffee. Nancy had a huge grin on her face. 

“Do you have a secret admirer?” She teased, but it was full of love.

“Not that I know of,” You sat the vase down on the table between the three of you. It really was beautiful. “But this definitely has my name on it.”

“Five bucks says I know who that’s from.” Robin raised her eyebrows, staring sheepishly over her mug. 

“I don’t think I’ll take that bet,” Nancy was still grinning her face off. “I think I know, too.”

You were even more confused now. You looked between them, expectant.

“ItsobviouslyEddie,” Robin spat out, then threw a hand against her mouth. Nancy rolled her eyes. 

“You could’ve given her, like, more than half a second to figure it ou—”

“What?” You interrupted, incredulous. “Why would… Eddie’s my best friend, you guys. It’s not—it’s not like that.”

It wasn’t like that; you just spent a lot of time together. Sometimes you watched movies, and fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms. Sometimes you’d go to his shows, watch him play guitar, and bite your lip so hard it bled. Sometimes you had… questionable dreams about him. 

Okay, maybe it was like that. But not for him.

The two girls were looking at you like you just failed a polygraph test. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You grumbled, setting your coffee down on the table. “He doesn’t feel that way about me, okay? That’s not even his handwriting. It’s way too nice.”

Robin rose from the couch. “Whatever you say, chica,” She headed for the phone, eyeing you as she went. “I’m gonna call Steve.”

You looked to Nancy, who simply shrugged with a knowing smile, then back to the flowers. It wasn’t Eddie. It couldn’t be.

But what if it was?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 11th, 1986

“I think I blew it.”

Eddie’s elbows rested on Steve’s kitchen counter, face buried in his hands. The house was empty, per usual, which Eddie always thought was insane—he wondered what it was like to have money for a place like this, let alone have it and never be in it.

“Oh please,” Steve had a mouth full of cereal, sitting a few feet away at the dining table. “What the hell are you talking about? You got her flowers. Girls love flowers.”

“She’s not just a girl.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, man. She’s a goddess, she hung the moon, she changed your life.” He gestured with his hand, rattling off the painstakingly cheesy things Eddie had said before. “Whatever, she loves flowers. Stop stressing.”

To anyone else, Steve might’ve looked like an asshole for dealing with Eddie’s anguish so casually. In reality, he quite appreciated it. Someone had to keep him grounded.

“Do you think she knows it’s me?” Eddie’s face finally left his hands, looking at his friend with a concerned expression.

“Doesn’t matter if she knows it’s you.” Steve pointed his spoon at him. “She hopes it’s you.”

“And how do we know that?”

“You know nothing, clearly.” Steve got up, carrying his empty bowl to the sink. Eddie rolled his eyes theatrically. “I, however, see how she looks at you when you’re together.”

Eddie’s heart did a little flip inside his chest. He wanted to believe that, he really did—but he doubted the words. “How… how does she look at me, then?”

Steve shrugged. “Sometimes like she wants to kiss you,” He spun on his heel, landing right across from where Eddie sat. “Sometimes like she wants to eat you.”

He swallowed harshly.

In the year that Eddie had known you, he’d been gone on you. Like, the whole time. It only got worse as you became better friends.

You’d help him study, insistent that he finally graduated, but his mind went fuzzy at your bare thighs, your floral perfume, the heat of your skin hovering just beside his. When he knew you were coming to his shows, he’d get indescribably nervous, petrified of embarrassing himself, despite knowing you probably couldn’t care less.

He thanked God he’d never seen or heard about you with another guy; at the same time, it was a little unbelievable. Hence, Steve had finally convinced him to do something—anything—remotely indicative of his feelings. 

Flowers. A good way to test the waters, Eddie thought, without giving himself away. 

After another thirty minutes of crisis-control, Steve drove him home. The boy gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, Ed, seriously.”

He appreciated it, though it did nothing to quell his anxiety. With a nod and a weak smile, he opened the passenger-side door, making toward his trailer.

He glanced at your place as he passed it. Just two days ago, it would’ve been so easy to knock on your door, ask to hang out. It suddenly felt impossible—perhaps because he was no longer shoving his feelings for you to the wayside. He’d made a move. Maybe he’d ruined everything between the two of you.

Mind racing, he treaded up his steps, nearly crushing what laid in front of his door.

A box of chocolates.

His whole body froze, staring at them wide-eyed. Slowly, he bent down, noticing a note stuck between the ribbon. Eds.

Not Eddie, not Ed… Eds.

The nickname he’d heard fall from your sweet lips a thousand times, and hoped he’d hear a thousand more. His heart thumped wildly.

He snatched the box, free hand digging through his pocket for his key, desperate to get inside before he passed away on the spot. He rushed to the couch, studying the note with gentle hands.

All it said was his name. But right now, it felt worthy of a golden frame, a tourist attraction—as if it were the eighth wonder of the world.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 12th, 1986

Despite the fact that you still questioned whether or not the roses were from Eddie, today was the fourth day in a row you hadn’t heard from him. No calls, no drop in visits—it was highly unusual. 

It was also a very good sign that it was, in fact, him. 

You hadn’t been able to focus on anything, especially since you dropped the chocolates off at his door. If he wasn’t your so-called ‘secret admirer’, you would have to explain all of this somehow. Well, I thought it was you, because I kinda hoped it was you, and…

The thought made you shudder.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, shoving a pair of sunglasses on her head.

You snapped out of your trance, looking between her and El. “I—yeah, I’m good. Are you guys ready to go?”

The two girls had showed up on your doorstep this afternoon, all giggles and playful shoves, begging to be taken to Starcourt. They took advantage of the soft spot you had for them often.

Soon enough, your run-down car was pulling into the mall parking lot.

“Alright, two hours tops, okay? I’m on night shift tonight, I need enough time to go home and change clothes.” You put on your best parental voice, the three of you making your way toward the entrance. 

The girls nodded happily, just excited to have hitched a ride at all. “You sound like Steve.” El quipped, earning a laugh from the redhead.

It would be nice to do some window-shopping, you thought, to take your mind off of things, if that was at all possible. You just wanted an answer—you wanted to be certain it was him, stop the spiral into thinking you might lose your best friend over some candy. 

Something came over you just inside the mall, right as El and Max were about to split off.

“Max,” You blurted, and she looked at you questioningly. “Weird… Um, weird question. Have you seen Eddie lately? Like, in our neighborhood?”

“No, don’t think so.” She shook her head, then narrowed her eyes at you. “Why?”

“No reason.”

You really were a terrible liar. “Is he ignoring you?”

“No! I mean… yes, but—no, I don’t think so?” You bit your lip. Jesus Christ, way to keep it cool. 

A maniacal grin spread across Max’s face, gesturing for El, who was preoccupied by a display, to come over. “We’re hitting Orange Julius first, and you—” She jabbed a finger into your chest. “—are telling us everything.”

For fuck’s sake.

Within ten minutes, the three of you were sitting at a table, sucking down your frozen drinks. You quietly hoped the brain freeze would give you a stroke.

“Spill.” Max commanded, both girls clearly excited for some gossip.

Before saying a word, you sat down your cup, extending both pinkies. “First of all, this stays between us, alright?”

They each hooked a pinky with their own, and you nodded, satisfied. So much for keeping your mind off of it. 

“Two days ago, someone left flowers on my doorstep. And I… I hope it was Eddie, because I might’ve left chocolates on his doorstep yesterday.”

Both girls squealed, clutching each other in excitement. “But, like, I don’t know if it was him, guys.” You were quick to subdue it, putting a hand out in front of you.

“It totally was!” El chirped, and Max nodded, joining in. “You guys are, like, idiots in love.”

“We are not!” The blush on your cheeks told a much different story. “Okay, whatever. Four people have now told me it’s definitely him, so guess I have my answer.”

“You already knew the answer.” Max rolled her eyes, rising from her seat with El. “Now, go get him something nice, and we’ll meet you back here in an hour and a half.”

The two girls skipped away. You took a dramatic slurp of your Orange Julius. 

Fine, you decided, less stressing, more shopping. You couldn’t take back the chocolates, so there was no point in worrying about it—que sera, sera, or however that goes.

You roamed the mall for about forty-five minutes, making pit stops at your favorite places; you bumped into the girls at Afterthoughts, where they were taking a decision on friendship bracelets very seriously. You stopped into Spencer’s, a favorite of yours for band tees and silly knick knacks—you almost got something for Eddie there, but lava lamps and mugs didn’t seem meaningful enough.

Deciding you’d figure it out later, you began making your way back to the meeting point. A display, from out of the corner of your eye, stopped you in your tracks. 

You stared at it, eyes slightly glazed over. It felt insane that you were even considering it.

It felt even more insane when your feet developed a mind of your own, carrying you into the store, and back out with a small bag—which you promptly shoved in your purse. 

“Do my eyes deceive me? You guys are here early?” You teased, approaching Max and El at the table from earlier. They were each carrying a few bags.

“We work fast,” El smiled, scanning you. “Did you get something for Eddie?”

“No, but I will, don’t worry.” You lied, knowing if you didn’t, they’d pester you until you showed them. “Ready to head out?”

The three of you made your way back to the car. After dropping El off at Hop’s, you headed back to Forest Hills with Max. She rested her feet on the dash. 

The ride was quiet—probably due to the fact that your mind was anything but. The gift you’d picked up for Eddie was… ballsy, to say the least. You blamed your friends for these bouts of fleeting confidence, which ultimately ended in wanting to bang your head against a wall. 

You parked at your place. Max hopped out, bags in tow, and made off toward her trailer.

“Thanks again,” She shouted, then gave a little nod towards your front door. “Looks like you got another delivery.”

Your head whipped toward the doorstep, approaching it with an embarrassing amount of haste. There was another delivery. 

A copy of Flashdance. Your knees wavered.

Now you were certain it was Eddie; the first time you’d watched it together, you made him swear he wouldn’t tell anyone how much you loved it. Cheesy, romantic, dance films didn’t exactly fit your tough-girl image. 

As giddy and lightheaded as you felt right now, maybe they were starting to. 

Of course, there was a note attached. You grabbed it, eyes widening when it didn’t just say your name.

Will I be seeing you on the 14th?

No name, no signature. What a little shithead, you thought, cheeks sore from smiling so hard. You pressed both the tape and note into your chest, exhaling a shaky breath.

It was real now. Whatever part of you that still doubted Eddie’s feelings had vanished—and it left behind a mess of excitement, nerves, and anticipation.

You glanced down at your purse, having almost forgotten about what you bought. Your stomach flipped in anxiety.

One more gift.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─���───── · ·

February 13th, 1986

Eddie missed you. Like, missed the hell out of you—which was embarrassing, considering it had been less than a week since you last hung out.

Despite being adamant he couldn’t give out anymore free rentals, Steve had scored him the copy of Flashdance. He was really just proud that Eddie hadn’t completely chickened out yet.  Quite frankly, so was Eddie.

Though, that note he’d left at your door got him pretty close to it.

What if you said no? Even worse, what if you said yes, somehow under the impression that this was some lighthearted, best friend thing? Eddie didn’t think you were that oblivious, but the worst case scenario was kind of his forté.

Dustin thumped him on the back of the head. “Stop thinking about it.”

“But I’m—”

“No, nope, zip.” The smaller boy closed his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “You can think about it tomorrow, when she professes her undying love for you.”

Eddie glared at him. The audacity was outrageous. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

Dustin glanced around the trailer. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

“Um,” He scratched the back of his neck. “We can talk about Hellfire?”

Eddie groaned, leaning back into the couch. “Henderson, I love you, I really do—but for the first time in my life, I have more pressing things to think about than Dungeons and Dragons.”

Dustin didn’t take it personally. In fact, he understood. He’d been sent here by Steve to keep Eddie’s mind off of it, which was proving useless, so he caved.

“Alright, fine.” He sighed, taking a seat beside the long-haired boy. A loaded silence ensued.

Eventually, he looked at Eddie in earnest, the corners of his lips turning up. “You think she’s the one?”

Eddie studied him for a moment. He noted the sincerity in his expression. “Yeah.” He breathed, nodding softly. “I mean, shit, yeah, I really do.”

“I think she is too, man.” Dustin grinned, in the comforting way that was uniquely his. “I mean, your one, not my one.”

Eddie chuckled at that. He might’ve been the luckiest guy in Hawkins to have such great friends—even if some of them were fifteen years old. If he had you, too, he’d be some sort of walking miracle. 

“Let’s just hope—”

Knock, knock, knock. Eddie’s sentence stopped in its tracks. The two of them locked wide eyes, and Dustin broke out beaming like a schoolboy.

“Holy shit,” He giggled, watching as Eddie approached the front door slowly. “She has, like, superhuman instincts or something.”

“Shush.”

Eddie’s hand gripped the handle, overcome by a wave of anticipation. Just beyond the worn wood, he’d find the answer to his question—a question which meant so much more than its face value.

Will I be seeing you on the 14th? Am I crazy for thinking I might? Do you want me how I’ve always wanted you?

He pulled the door open, eyes already trained to the ground. There laid a small piece of paper, liable to be blown away at any moment—he picked it up, hand shaking, heartbeat in his ears.

My place, tomorrow, 8pm. Last gift is here.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 14th, 1986

It was 7:45pm. You sat on your couch, leg bouncing, the faint sound of crickets penetrating your walls.

It was silly, really, to be so nervous—it was Eddie. You knew Eddie like the back of your hand.

His favorite songs, the way he’d fidget with his rings when he was nervous, the little noises he made in his sleep. You could almost smell his signature cologne, musky and warm, like a campfire at midnight. 

There were things you didn’t know.

You didn’t know the way his lips felt against yours. You’d long wondered whether he was a gentle or fiery lover; as much as you knew him, you still couldn’t tell.

Eddie, who’d once tended to a wound on your knee with delicate hands, wincing in sympathy whenever you did. Eddie, who was a passionate performer, owning every square inch of the stage with confidence. 

A knock at the door took the wind out of you. 

You stood up abruptly, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in your sweater, your skirt. You cursed yourself for not putting on some music, now acutely aware of the silence.

It was too late now. Fuck.

It was so much easier when it was flowers, movies, or flirty little notes on the other side of the door. You wondered if Eddie felt the same—terrified to knock and stay put, not scurry off and hide.

You clutched the doorknob, opening it slowly. Your eyes found each others’ in an instant.

He had on his leather jacket, typically reserved for shows, and a Judas Priest t-shirt. Like always, his knees showed through the holes in his jeans—a chain clipped to the belt loops. 

He was perfect. And even so, he looked nervous.

“Hey.” You said softly, like a deer in headlights.

He twisted one of his rings, eyes glued to yours. “Hi.”

It was so strange, you thought, how effortless it was before; a few innocent gifts had so drastically changed the air around you both. Some scrawled out notes brought a sea of unspoken feelings to the surface.

Instinctively, your arms reached out, pulling him into your home with a lingering hug. Despite being the root of your current anxiety, you craved his comfort.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He breathed, like feeling you in his arms was a relief. Your face was buried in his shirt, taking in the scent. Like a campfire at midnight. 

After a long moment, you leaned back to look at him, his hand cradling the back of your head. You could feel his breath ghosting against your lips, chests rising and falling together.

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie whispered, heartbeat drumming against you. 

Your limbs were numb. “Please.”

So, he did.

Every insecurity you had became ridiculously insignificant. The lack of music, the wrinkles in your clothes, the smudge in your eyeliner—they were like specks of dust on the Mona Lisa, because Eddie was fucking kissing you, and it felt like clicking the last piece into a ten-thousand piece puzzle.

He held you as if you were made of glass, gentle enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You finally parted, breathless, foreheads resting together. “Eds,” You murmured, hands beginning to wander, skimming over his shoulders, his chest. “I… I want to…”

“Me too.” He replied with a shaky breath, not needing you to finish the thought. “Promise me you’re sure. I’ll… shit, I’ll never forgive myself if I fuck this up.”

You won’t. You can’t. You never could.

“I’m sure.” You croaked, hands finally finding themselves in his curls. “I’ve been sure, Eds, for a year, since the moment I met y—”

He pressed his lips to yours, a different sort of passion within it. It was feverish, needy, tongues and teeth bumping into each other messily; his hands traveled down to your thighs, lifting you, and you wrapped your legs around him.

You hardly felt yourself move before you were being laid down on the soft surface of your bed. Your fingers stripped him of his jacket, tossing it off to the side, then moved to the hem of his shirt, embarrassingly eager to feel his skin against yours. 

Eddie held himself up with a forearm beside your head, his other hand clutching at the sweater over your waist, finally finding the courage to lift it off of you. Underneath it, intricate black lace—a sheer one-piece that left nothing to the imagination. 

He stopped kissing you. Not on purpose, but out of pure astonishment, eyes trailing your torso. 

“Is this…”

“Your last gift?” Your chest was heaving now, Eddie’s eyes warming your skin, but you managed a shy smile. “Yeah, it is.”

He sat up, bringing both large hands to delicately span your ribcage. Jesus Christ, the way he was looking at you was the best kind of absurd—like you were expensive, unattainable.

You felt the cold metal of his rings through the thin fabric, and it made you keen inadvertently. His eyes immediately flicked up to your face.

“You’re gonna kill me.” He shook his head lightly, utterly awestruck. “Like, really, I might not make it out of here alive.”

You giggled, and the smile rubbed off on him. “I might not either,” You reached out, hands slipping beneath his shirt, traversing the bare skin underneath. He shivered at the feeling. “So, let’s die happy.”

That must’ve ignited something in him, because he squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of it, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head. You hardly had time to appreciate the sight before he was on you again.

He nipped at your jaw, your hands making quick work of the button on his jeans; at the same time, his fingers tucked themselves in the edge of your skirt, gliding it off of you.

You tangled your fingers in his curls, as if it was the only thing keeping you from floating away. Only a few thin layers were left separating you.

“So perfect,” Eddie’s hands came to your shoulders, oh-so softly hooking the straps of the lingerie, sliding them down your arms. His breath warmed your neck. “This is beautiful, but you…” 

Your mouth opened and closed again, too overwhelmed by the praise to speak. You felt him drag the fabric down, an agonizing pace, until you were entirely exposed.

“You are everything to me.” He whispered, and there was a vulnerability behind it that made your heart swell.

Your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, and he gently clutched your wrist, stopping you. You made a small noise of protest. 

“Wait,” He murmured, pressing his lips to your neck, then your collarbone. His ringed fingers came up to cup one of your breasts, and your breath hitched when he kissed there, too. 

He continued downward, lips trailing your navel, pausing just above where you wanted him most. His dark eyes met yours, and Christ, he looked like an angel.

“Wanna take care of you.” He gripped your hips—not forcefully, but hard enough. “Can I?”

“Please.” You didn’t even know how he meant it. You didn’t care.

His hands found their way to the backs of your thighs, giving them a gentle push, putting your center on full display for him.

It had been so long since anyone had seen you like this, and now it was Eddie; as many times as you’d imagined this scenario, you never considered it could be a reality. You felt suddenly insecure.

His face couldn’t have told a more different story.

It was as if you’d bestowed God’s greatest gift upon him with your permission—you almost couldn’t be insecure. He was doe-eyed, slack jawed, a few stray curls hanging down in his face. Clearly the least of his concerns.

As you reached to brush them away, he leaned forward, softly swiping his tongue between your folds. It caught you off guard, back arching slightly. “Shit, Eds, yes.”

Your response was all he needed to continue, attaching his mouth to you again. You half expected it to be sloppy, fast, and eager; instead, he was methodical. His tongue circled your bud slowly, dipping down to your entrance every so often, wanting to taste everything you had to offer.

He was savoring every moment. And, fuck, you thought your soul might leave your body.

“G-God, shit,” You whined, no longer in control of what left your mouth. His hair was threaded in your knuckles, which you hadn’t even noticed until a particular swirl over your clit made you tug roughly on the strands—Eddie groaned against you, movements nearly faltering.

The vibrations were almost too much, let alone the fact that he liked his hair being pulled. You felt a finger tease your entrance, eliciting a gasp among your many moans, and it didn’t take long for him to sink it into you.

“Eddie,” It came out like a weak warning. The coldness of the ring on his knuckle met your most sensitive area, and you were gone. “Oh, fuck, Eddie, m’gonna—”

He curled it inside you and whimpered, sending your body alight.

You came as if you never had before. The combination of his mouth, his finger, the sounds he was making, his goddamn ring—it was euphoric, unlike anything you’d ever experienced, rendering you a babbling mess. 

He slowed down as you did, reading your body as if it were his favorite book. You thought he must’ve somehow read it a dozen times already. 

Appearing at your level again, Eddie caught his breath alongside you, his voice as soft as silk. “Was that… good?”

And for fuck’s sake, he was asking in earnest, like he really didn’t know whether he’d done well.

You huffed out an incredulous laugh, and it brought a smile to his face. Your hands came up to cradle his cheeks. “The best I’ve ever had, Eds.”

That did something to him—his eyelids fluttered shut, brow furrowing. It turned him on to hear he’d satisfied you. Which, in turn, made the ache between your legs apparent again. 

When you began to tug on the waistband of his boxers for a second time, he made no effort to stop you.

“Need you inside me,” It was more of a beg than a demand, barely audible, against his lips. 

Finally, every piece of clothing had been discarded. Feeling him rest against your core, heavy and throbbing, made you tremble. He was already on the brink of losing his composure. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He brushed the hair from your eyes, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Always. Gonna go slow, okay?”

Your heart turned inside your chest. Eddie knew it had been a while since you’d done this. You knew it has been awhile since he’d done this, too—and yet he pushed the nervousness aside, determined to be a rock for your comfort. 

You nodded, nosing against his cheek, feeling safer than you ever had before.

He lined himself up with you, pushing forward gently, tip breaching your wetness. It made your jaw fall open; the stretch was good, not painful, but you still needed the time to adjust.

He reacted similarly, his mouth open slightly, the muscles in his abdomen tensing. At the same time, his eyes scanned your face for any sign of discomfort.

When he was fully seated within you, you were already panting into each other's mouths. It felt like you were complete, not only physically, but emotionally—and you knew he felt it, too, though it remained unspoken. 

“Okay?” He whispered, dark orbs boring into your own.

Your body was covered in goosebumps. “Yes.”

He started to move, languidly pulling his hips back, pressing them into your own. You were desperate for each other, to feel each other; your passion didn’t choose to manifest in a rough, frenzied manner. Both of you needed to relish in every movement, every touch, every sound. 

It was overwhelmingly intimate.

His left hand found your own, lacing your fingers together, pressing it into the mattress beside your head. The other cupped your face, thumb resting on your bottom lip. 

You breathed out each other’s names, eyes locked. He was reaching the depths of you, brushing your sweet spot with every slow thrust, and it made a knot begin to form in your stomach. 

Your free hand found his hair, gripping it again, and he shuddered out a beautiful noise. “Baby,” He keened, and his hand left your face to hold your hip, pulling out farther, rolling in deeper.

“Me too.” You croaked. It was like you shared one mind, one body, no longer needing to say what it was you felt. You just knew. 

The air thickened around you, breaths becoming shorter, grips becoming tighter. A sheen of sweat covered both of your skin, fast approaching your climaxes.

“Eddie, I—” You were swept away, mind trying to force the words out, pleasure making it difficult. “I… I—”

“Tell me, baby.” He rasped, full of longing, like he hoped he already knew.

“—I love you,” It came out like a soft sob, every muscle in your body contracting.

He lost himself at that. A symphony of noises filled the small room, and you clung to him with everything you had, mind buzzing, body writhing instinctually. It was a feeling that deserved to be bottled, placed in a museum—complete and utter fulfillment, in every possible way. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you laid there, heartbeats drumming against each other, trying to come back to earth. It could’ve been a minute, an hour.

Eventually, and probably for the best, your minds wandered back to you. Eddie gently backed away, just enough to pull out of you, and quickly enveloped you in his arms again. 

His chin rested on your shoulder, chest pressed to your back, both of you blissed out and fuzzy.

“By the way,” He spoke softly, arms tightening around your waist. “I love you, too. I should’ve said it earlier, but I was a little busy losing my absolute shit.”

You broke out into a laugh, the contradiction between his words and the current situation tickling you. He grinned widely into the skin of your neck. 

“Who wrote that note?” You turned towards him, mind running over the events of the last few days. “The first one, with my name. I didn’t believe Rob and Nance when they said it was you—the handwriting was too nice.”

His hand came up, stroking your hair lovingly. “Steve has girly handwriting. Usually I make fun of him for it, but it got me here, so maybe I’ll stop.”

You giggled at that, and jeez, you were sure the two of you looked like idiots in love right now—faces inches apart, delicate touches wherever you could reach, absolutely beaming. 

“For the record, I didn’t believe them either.” Eddie’s eyes explored your face. “Harrington, Henderson. I thought they were batshit, saying you were in love with me.”

You inched even closer to him. “Maybe we should start listening to our friends.”

“Let’s not be rash.” He joked, and you playfully pushed his chest. “But, yeah. They were right this time.”

There were a few moments of silence, the two of you taking each other in, biting back smiles. 

“I love you.” You said quickly, giddily. 

Eddie’s finger brushed your nose. “I love more.”

“See, that would be the case,” You began, faux seriousness painting your expression. “If I didn’t love you most.” 

He wagged a finger in your face, leaning in to pepper you with kisses, and continue waging a war that would never end. 

At the end of the day, three things were certain.

Firstly, you loved Eddie.

Secondly, Eddie loved you.

Thirdly, your friends were definitely going to regret encouraging you to tell each other those two things.

[honorhearted]

Emma's voice held the frigid chill of ice. The pointed edge of her greeting was palpable, yet Caleb mercifully said nothing while Benjamin inclined his head by way of answer. "Miss Dunster," he offered in return. "Are we truly to be so formal on this day? I would think that you and I could drop such charades, seeing how close we've grown."

It was a low blow, both to her and himself, if he was being honest, because he was still deeply ashamed by his actions. But if he could prove himself unruffled, then perhaps he could still win this game, after all.

Emma focused on greeting Caleb instead -- probably wise, all things considered -- and the whaler laughed at her demure response. "Can't say I've heard 'it's lovely to meet you' before," he teased, winking. "Is your judge of character truly so piss-poor? Then again..." Here, he gave Benjamin a friendly wallop to the shoulder. "You seem mighty taken by this here gollumpus, so I guess that answers my question."

Benjamin stiffened at the jest, irritably pushing Caleb's hand away from his arm. "It's called being polite, Finnegan. Perhaps you should try it out sometime." He once more moved to entreat Emma to allow a chaperone, but she was quite adamant in her denial.

"A burden?" he echoed. A genuine, incredulous smile touched his lips. "It's hardly a burden to accompany you on horseback. It's one of my favorite pastimes, and, as it so happens, one of my favorite animals as well."

Emma remained immovable. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.” Her cheeks grew florid within the early morning sun, and her hands tightened to the point he swore he heard the leather squeak of her riding gloves. To Caleb, she said, “I’d love to hear more about the haul, if you don’t mind sharing. Mister Bolton doesn’t seem to think women are capable of thinking of anything beyond fripperies, but you look like a clever enough man. I'm sure you don’t share the same ignorant opinion as your associate.”

Caleb bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "I do, do I? Gadso, I can see why Johnny-boy here is so smitten! You're mighty generous with the compliments -- even if they're clearly lies."

Benjamin sighed, embarrassment flooding his face as his friend gave a sound thump to his arm. "Yes, well..." Avoiding Emma's gaze, he muttered, "She's lovely, so...I'm certain anyone with eyes can see that. That hardly makes a man smitten."

Mercifully, Emma seemed intent on bringing the conversation back to commerce -- the true reason for their stay.

“I'm sure Mister Bolton forgot to mention that I am in line to inherit the family business--he doesn't seem to think me capable of such a feat--so I am intrigued to hear how things are coming along for your privateering. Do you dabble in hogs as well?"

Caleb snorted. "You must not know much about privateerin', eh? No disrespect, o' course. I 'dabble' in whatever we find as prizes. Hogs certainly do come up -- I supply some of them to Johnnyboy's farm -- but we also get varying kegs o' booze, weaponry, ammo, textiles, you name it! We have a letter of marque to legally attack and take over certain ships, so I'm just doin' my part." Here, he gave a cheeky salute. "I've gotta say: I am intrigued by a lady business partner. Do ya like your numbers?"

"She can count, if that's what you mean," Benjamin supplied, looking Emma's way with a smirk. "Are you sure you won't let us join you, Miss Dunster? You look a little peaked."

As soon as the door locked into place, Emma froze and leaned her head back against the cool wood, willing her heart to slow its rampage. How had she let herself get so flustered by him? She knew that their challenge was still ongoing, to expect the unexpected in the midst of war, but she hadn’t planned on him proposing such a ridiculous idea tonight. Tonight was supposed to be safe, a quiet night in secured by the fact that her father was playing host. None of his friends or men ever ventured farther than the parlor or his study, and she had somehow assumed John Bolton would be the same. He had used the false security against her.

That’s what it had to be. There was no other logical explanation for the way her body felt right now. She was merely caught off guard, her armor not properly secured. The next time she saw him, she would be prepared for anything he wished to hurl at her. Next time, she would not falter the way she had tonight.

...

Despite spending so much time in her room over the next few days, Emma couldn’t manage to sleep very well at all. Each time she closed her eyes, she imagined his face, standing there all smug and aggravatingly handsome. Every time her eyelids dared to flutter closed, she imagined his bare chest, the feeling of her fingers against his skin. Even in her dreams, all she wanted to do was reach out and pull him closer, to run her hands along his body until she’d explored every single inch of his being. Until she knew him better than he knew himself. In turn, she wanted his hands to touch her, to hold her, squeeze her in all the places she shouldn’t want him to. Instead of constantly fighting off the waves of shame that ebbed and flowed upon each wakening, Emma eventually resolved herself to staying conscious. If her dreams would be plagued by him, she would simply stay awake.

It wasn’t the smartest plan she'd ever made but she had no other ideas for how to rid herself of his imprint in her mind. As long as he was staying under the safe roof and ingratiating himself with her father, Emma would be at his mercy. After nearly four days locked away in her room, the hours spent desperately trying to think of anything else, she gave up and and decided on an outing. She needed to get out of her room. She needed fresh air and a new setting to refresh her mind before she went mad. Before she dared to find him and drag him into her room herself.

Dressing herself in a suitable riding outfit, Emma grumbled as she stalked her way down the hall and past a handful of servants. If they noticed her agitation, they didn't comment on it and she found herself eternally grateful for the fact. The less she had to explain herself, the better. All she needed to do was reach the barn.

But instead of being welcomed by the pleasant, solitary company of her horses, Emma was met with the absolute last person she wished to see. And another stranger.

Great, she silently grumbled. Another man to present to pine for her father's attentions, she assumed. Without sparing a glance to the new face, Emma gave a curt nod, hoping her cheeks didn't betray her attempt at remaining composed.

“Mister Bolton.” His name escaped her in an exasperated tone, her heart beginning to race as though she'd sprinted all the way here. How did he manage to be everywhere? Why was he haunting her like this? In her own house, she couldn't go anywhere without seeing him in some capacity and it was maddening. Her thoughts were so tangled and jumbled by seeing his countenance that it took her an embarrassingly long moment to finally take in the presence of the other man.

“Mister Finnegan,” Emma dipped into a halfhearted bow, less formal than what would’ve been expected from her, but she wasn't in the right state of mind to care. As long as John Bolton was in her presence, nothing mattered except leaving. “It’s lovely to meet you, sir.”

She tried to keep her gaze on the new face, but her attention kept being drawn to John, her violet-blue eyes drinking in every ounce of him that she could. It had only been a few days and yet she felt like it had been an eternity since she'd last seen him. It felt as though he’d gone to war and she was seeing him for the first time in years. It was a ridiculous sentiment, and even more foolishly, she couldn’t help but imagine herself running into his arms and kissing him again. Even more so, it struck her as mortifying that her mind even dared to admit she missed him.

“Hm?” Her reply was delayed, the thoughts of their previous encounter still vivid in her mind. Her dreams had been plagued by the feeling of his lips and, despite her insistence that she didn’t like him, his face was all she could envision when she slipped her hand between her legs and released her built up frustration.

“No.” She replied too firmly for her own liking, wincing at the harshness of her tone. “No,” She tried again, but the lingering effects of the first no couldn’t be ignored. "Thank you. I wouldn't wish to place such a burden upon you."

Emma didn’t wish to make a scene in front of someone else, but she also didn’t wish to make a fool of herself in front of her worst enemy. Or at least that’s what she tried to remind herself that he was. The enemy, the villain, the man who she could not fall for at any cost.

Though the idea of having him nearby was tempting, Emma knew it was better for the both of them if she kept her distance. Her resilience was not as strong as she had thought it to be and if she spent too long around him, she wasn't entirely sure what she would be tempted to do. No, it was safer to stay alone. The farther she stayed from him, the less she would imagine the feeling of his hands on her hips and the taste of his lips on her own.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.” A blush crept onto her cheeks and she all at once felt incredibly out of place in her own family’s barn. He was the guest here and yet she felt like the outsider, as though she were the one trespassing. Turning her attention back to Mister Finnegan, Emma forced a smile.

“I’d love to hear more about the haul, if you don’t mind sharing. Mister Bolton doesn’t seem to think women are capable of thinking of anything beyond fripperies, but you look like a clever enough man. I'm sure you don’t share the same ignorant opinion as your associate.” Fluttering her lashes, she tried to act demure. It was the same tactic she had used in her youth to convince her father to let her do things a young lady ought not do, but it always seemed to work. And perhaps appearing so sweet and devilishly kind to someone else would be enough to rattle the enemy. Or at least make him jealous. “I'm sure Mister Bolton forgot to mention that I am in line to inherit the family business--he doesn't seem to think me capable of such a feat--so I am intrigued to hear how things are coming along for your privateering. Do you dabble in hogs as well?"

[mixedstyles]

As Long as You Are: Blurb #1

Warnings: none!! (that I know of)

Suggestion by: @tati813

Dividers made by: @firefly-graphics !!

thank you to those who are letting me use their names as users in my smau posts!! If your name hasn’t been used, I’ll be using them throughout my other posts! (real users are underlined/linked!)

ALaYA Series | Main Masterlist | send me things!

“So I was talking to Mitch the other day and—”

“Wait,” Harry cuts y/n off, “when were you talking to Mitch? Was I there?”

“What? No, he gave me his number the other day. I mean, you were there when that happened, but it’s because I had a question about—”

“He gave you his number?”

“Will you stop cutting me off?” y/n pushes Harry’s shoulder, looking at his face a little too long for his liking.

“Will you stop looking at me like that?”

“Like what? Like I know you’re just upset that I got Mitch’s number before yours?”

“Shut up.”

y/n and Mitch have been talking for the past 15 minutes about something music related that Harry doesn’t have enough knowledge about. It’s not that he can’t join the conversation, he knows that y/n would gladly include him in it, but he just doesn’t want to bother them. Do I not want to bother them or am I just being petty? He knows the answer, he’s being petty.

Harry hasn’t spoken in the 15 minutes they’ve been discussing music, only glances at y/n every so often, sighs, and then looks back at his phone. Harry isn’t even doing anything on his phone, he’s actually just swiping back and forth on his home screen pretending that he has important things to do and isn’t interested in their conversation. But he’s actually listening to the whole thing.

Harry sighs again, rotating his chair away from the direction of y/n and Mitch. Which is it for y/n, “Harry, do you want to join the conversation or are you just going to continue to sit there sighing like a little kid?” There’s a hint of irritation in her voice disguised and lightheartedness. There’s no response from Harry. He knows he’s most definitely not acting like a 28 year old.

“My goodness,” Mitch says, “he’s never like this. When he is, it's always when we’re talking shop. I swear sometimes my kid is more emotionally mature than he is.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s giving us the silent treatment. Should we just give him the silent treatment back?” y/n asks Mitch.

“Yeah… he’ll get over it eventually.”

“I just wanted to be in the conversation!” Harry breaks.

“Oh my gosh! He speaks!” y/n announces. “You are such a little kid my goodness. Were you jealous that you weren’t in the conversation? Mitch look!” y/n points towards Harry, “He’s literally pouting.” y/n laughs.

“You always talk to Mitch but I was your friend first.”

“And he finally admits it.” Mitch laughs.

“Well then come on over here and be in the conversation instead of just sitting there pouting the whole time.” y/n pats the open seat next to her which Harry gladly takes, scooting closer to her than necessary. y/n just looks up at him and smiles, leaning into his arm

“How long do we think it’s going to take y/n to realize that Harry has been waiting to talk to her the whole time she’s been talking to Sarah and playing with your kid?” Elin asks Mitch, who just smiles.

“Oh, she knows. She told me that she’s just going to continue ignoring him when he’s sulking. She said that he’s 28 not 4. If he wants to talk to her he can use his words.”

“Oh my gosh,” Elin laughs, trying to cover her mouth so Harry doesn’t hear, “she’s an absolute icon, I love her so much. Can we bring her with us on tour?”

“Harry, will you stop lurking? I think you’re scaring my kid.” Sarah finally says, glancing up at Harry who’s standing 15 paces behind y/n.

“He’s still there? I thought he would have given up by now!”

“Nope, he’s been there the whole time.” Sarah says.

“Wait! You knew I was here the whole time?” Harry asks incredulously. It’s now y/n’s turn to shift and look at Harry who’s leaning against a back wall.

“It’s a little hard to ignore the feeling of someone glaring at you. Harry, use your words. This little guy knows how to use them more than you do.”

Liked by pillowpersonpp, harrystyles, and 34,587 others

areyoulistening happy birthday to this absolute icon. it may look like he was bothered by me taking this photo of him, but i can assure you, he absolutely was.

Tagged: mitchrowland

y/nandharry Is this the brotp we never knew we needed???

tati813 nah this is the brotp we ALWAYS knew we needed

fanaccount30 HE LOOKS SO ANGRY IM SCREAMING 😭

noooovaaaaa I love the honesty in the caption 💀

harrystyles HE gets a birthday post but I don’t get one for my birthday??

↳ areyoulistening i didn’t personally know you in february!!!

↳ harrystyles Well I’m expecting a solid 500 word post about me for my birthday. @areyoulistening

↳ areyoulistening i’ll just post a photo of sarah and mitch for your birthday and thank them for keeping you alive since 2017 @harrystyles

↳ harrystyles I will literally end our friendship @areyoulistening

be-with-me-so-happily is harry upset that y/n didn’t post for his birthday BACK IN FEBRUARY??? 😩

pillowpersonpp He may look mad in this photo, but he smiled when he saw this post

mitchrowland I also really appreciated your musical rendition of happy birthday that you sent me

harrystyles YOU SENT HIM A MUSICAL RENDITION OF HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOO. I’m blocking you @areyoulistening ?????

areyoulistening then why are you still here 🙄 @harrystyles

tag list: @theekyliepage @tati813 @reveriehs @thomaslefteyebrow @mxltifxnd0m @gothmingguk @b-reads-things @noooovaaaaa (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

[donutloverxo]

His queen

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - An anon asked for an au sequel to first night with no stucky but this can be read as a one shot. Thanks to lizzygal(link to ao3) for her advice on this! This is written for @sweetlyscared's 1k angst challenge! Congrats boo! I used the prompt 'Do you love her?' Although this is hardly angsty but it's as angsty as someone as soft as me can get🥺 Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Summary - Married life with Steve was amazing (although with a few bumps in the way) until you discovered a heartbreaking secret.

Warnings - explicit sexual content, painful sex, innocent naive insecure reader, dub con/noncon, soft dark Steve, jealous Steve, ooc villain Sharon, like a little breeding kink, some angst.

Pairing - soft dark king!Steve x reader

Word count - 5.3k

Steve jolted when your palm hit him across his face, his hand circled around your wrist, ready to fight whatever it was that slapped him off, his grip loosening when he realised it was just you. You wiggled your hand away from his grip, mumbling incoherently before turning away from him, so that he could only see the silhouette of your nude back in the dim light.

Although he had been with a handful of women, he never had to share a bed with one. He didn’t think he’d ever have to, he was born in royalty, raised to be a king. While he liked having your soft warm body in his arms, he maybe could live without your hands slapping him, or both your legs over his thighs and hips.

It was customary for wives to have their own chambers after the honeymoon period was over. And with a heavy heart he had sent you to your own chambers, he made sure you were treated to the best luxuries possible.

But he found himself missing your presence soon enough. Your legs over his, you annoying him for attention whenever he was working, the way you hummed a song in your head, how you often clumsily bumped into things, your sweet beautiful voice, your scent, everything about you.

So he went to your room, told you that you were to live with him in his chambers from then on. You were hesitant at first, but didn’t say no to him.

You could never deny him anything. He loved that about you. How subservient you were despite being so fiery.

He was grateful to have made you move in, in times like these, when his cock was hard and achingly pressed against your thigh, he had you right where he wanted you.

He softly called out your name, he’d rather have you awake for this. He loved listening to the sweet sounds he could pull out of you. When you didn’t so much as stir he decided he would just have to wake you up another way.

Pushing your legs off his, spreading them apart to make room for him as he hovered over you, pressing soft kisses, rubbing his beard against your skin, he made his way down to his destination, he was parched for your nectar.

He kissed your petal, your cunt already oozing with need, your body would always want him even if you weren’t awake. He frowned when you didn’t move at all. He had been a bit too rough with you that night, exhausting you, making you pass out as soon as he was done, but he was growing more and more impatient.

Scraping his teeth over your clit, he bit it ever so lightly as you yelped awake.

“Oh!” you gasped when you looked down to find the king between your legs.

Swallowing a lump, because this was still so very strange to you. Your mother had told you how a man and woman make love before your wedding, but she never mentioned anything like this.

From your knowledge the king putting his mouth there wouldn’t result in you getting pregnant. But it did bring you great pleasure, to the point where it was maddening.

Sometimes it was the only thing on your mind.

It was as if you were addicted to it.

“My king...” you squirmed when you felt him push his fingers inside you, “I’m so tired... I have court tomorrow...” How he managed to do all his duties and still have you at least thrice everyday was beyond you.

“You don’t have to go. You’re the queen, the future mother of my children, you deserve a day off. Besides I do work you a bit too hard, don’t I?” he asked before plunging his tongue into your heat.

“Huh? No... I’m glad to be serving you...” And you had yet to give him any heirs.

It wasn’t long before you released all over his mouth, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard coated with your slick as he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“You can stay in bed all day tomorrow. That way you’ll be strong and ready by the time I’m back.” He told you before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, as you tasted yourself on his mouth.

Turns out a day off was everything that you had needed. You were born a princess, albeit of a kingdom standing on its last legs, you were the youngest of six sisters, your prospects weren’t all that great.

Your mother told you that you’d be lucky to get a rich lord, let alone a Duke or a prince. A King was out of the question. She taught you how to handle a household, she never could’ve prepared you for court or to be a queen. You always dreamt of marrying for love. Of running away after falling for a stable boy and living far away and being free.

But you married the King of the most prestigious kingdom in the whole world. While you had grown to love Steven, you didn’t love all the responsibilities that were thrusted upon you so suddenly, you didn’t like how you were always under scrutiny. Every move you made was watched and judged by others. You still couldn’t believe your life sometimes.

So it was nice to have a day to yourself. You had slept in till late in the morning, having your breakfast in bed before taking a leisurely bath and then decided to go for a walk in the garden just before the sunset before you’d have to go back up and have dinner with your husband before having to perform your wifely duties.

“Your grace,” you smiled upon hearing the familiar voice, turning around to see Lady Sharon approaching you.

You hadn’t seen her in over a month. She had been so kind to assist you and help you get acclimated to your duties, you’d always be grateful to her.

“I thought you were under the weather,” she frowned. It was the excuse you had given to skip court with your ladies that day. Which wasn’t a complete lie. You were a little sore between your legs. But a warm bath had fixed that.

“I’m feeling quite better,” you said, standing upright, a dignified smile on your face--formal and curt.

Always be formal and curt with everyone. Your instinct was to hug her when you saw her after her month long trip, like you would to any of your sisters or friends, but you must always act like a queen since you were one.

“How was your trip?” you asked her as she hooked her arm in yours so you could both resume walking.

“It went alright. Mama wants to marry me off to the Duke Stark, the trip was some sort of matchmaking ploy,” she snorted.

“What’s wrong with Stark? He seems so charming.” You remember meeting him at your coronation ceremony. Where he had got you beautiful pearls from an exotic country.

“He maybe charming, but at the end of the day - he’s manwhore.”

You gasped incredulously, your hand over your mouth as you looked around to make sure your maids didn’t hear you, “Lady Sharon,” you chastised her, “We can’t use that sort of language.”

“Forgive me, your grace,” she apologized, “I often forget how naive you are.”

“What? Naive?” you huffed. “Not using such filthy language hardly makes me naive.”

“Live a little, all royals are debauched in one way or another. I’m surprised to see just how much of a square you are.”

“Is... is being a square a bad thing?” You wanted to know. You never thought of yourself as a conformist, in fact your mother used to tell you you’ll die an old maid if you didn’t start acting more like a lady and less like a spoilt brat.

“Sometimes it is...” she pondered. “Well, for instance, being a square in bed might be boring for some men.”

“What?” you gasped again. Tightening your grip on her arm and walking at a faster pace to put some distance between you and your maids, “Give us a minute,” you told them.

“Lady Sharon,” you looked into her blue eyes, much like your husbands but a little darker, “Have you ever been with a man?”

“I have,” she shrugged. “Just the one. He was my true love.”

“Bu – but you aren’t married.” You frowned.

“So?”

“So, how can you make love to anyone if you aren’t married...” Your mother had told you that making love only ever happened between a man and his wife.

“I... you do know what making love entails right? This is what I meant when I said you were too much of a square,” she chuckled.

“Don’t... don’t make fun of me...” you pouted.

“I’m sorry, your grace, it’s just,” she put a hand over her mouth as she cleared her throat, “Really funny. Two people, who aren’t married, can make love. Being married is good but not a requirement.”

“I suppose that makes sense, me and his majesty could do it even if we weren’t married...”

“Is he happy with you?” she wanted to know.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just, you don’t know much about physical relations, and there needs to be a certain level of knowledge and experience for it to be good at it.”

“Do you think he is unsatisfied with me?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. “Does he seem unsatisfied?”

He was always asking for it. Which you preferred, because you’d die of embarrassment if you ever had to initiate it. You couldn’t go for too long without it either. He had went on a hunting trip for just a couple of days and you wanted to jump on him and keep him in your bed as soon as you saw him.

Why would he ask for it again and again if he was satisfied?

“I’m not sure... since you know so much about it would you give me some advice?”

“My, I would’ve thought you’d call me a harlot or a whore instead you’re asking for advice...” she smirked.

“Oh, I would never. That is what my mother would say, probably, but you’re my friend. Besides, I would want to make love to Steve even if we weren’t married, and if he was a stable boy.”

“A stable boy?” she quirked a blonde brow.

“Yes! And I would be me, a princess. It’s just a silly dream I used to have,” you shrugged. “What happened to your love? The one you lost?”

“He got married to someone else,” she stated. And although she was firm and sophisticated as always, you could hear his voice wavering and how much pain she was in.

“Oh my... I am so sorry, Sharon,” you said, engulfing her in a hug to comfort her, now that you do actually love someone, now that you know what loving someone deeply means, how overwhelming it can be, you couldn’t even imagine what losing that love would feel like. “You’ll find someone better.”

“There is no one better, your grace. But I’ll give you some advice,” she pulled away from you, putting some distance between you both, “You have to pay special attention to his balls. Many ladies tend to forget them.”

“Ball...? Like toys? I don’t believe he has any.”

“Your grace,” she rolled her eyes as she snickered, “He does have them. That is where your children will come from.”

“Um... what? Wouldn’t they come from...” you looked down, to the place between your legs. That’s where kids come from. That’s what you had been told.

“Well, yes, that is where they will pop out of. But the balls... the ones right behind his manhood, that’s where his seed comes from.”

“Oh...” you nodded as you realised what she was talking about. “So... what about the... balls?”

“Just pay special attention to them. He would like that. Suck on them, tug on them... but gently!” she chuckled as she realised she would have to talk down to you since you were so inexperienced.

“Oh... alright... anything else I can do?”

“Try to be more... active... instead of just sitting there and taking it you know?”

“Alright. I think I get the gist of it.”

“You ready for me, petal?” Steven asked as he looked down at you, naked and vulnerable, so beautiful and all his. He nudged his cock against your intimate lips, prodding at your entrance as he awaited your answer. He knew he could be too much for you sometimes, he was trying to do better. So he could make you love him at least half of as much as he loves you.

“Mm-hm... but um...” you trailed off. Not exactly knowing how you would go about asking to suck his balls.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if... I could... do that...” you fluttered your lashes, that usually got you whatever you wanted from him.

“And what is ‘that’?”

“You know... when you make me put my mouth on you...”

He didn’t usually make you use your mouth.

Most of the times Steven had a strict unofficial schedule he followed when it came to lovemaking. He wasn’t someone who liked or embraced change, he was always strategic, as a king and as your husband.

He’d kiss you till you were out of breath, then your neck, and then your breasts, he’d spend a long amount of time there, maybe because you liked that the most probably. And then he’d use his fingers to work you up, tasting you, eating you out and drinking your nectar.

That drove you mad, till you were on the brink of insanity.

You loved it as much as you hated it. You had never felt so out of control in your entire life. Not even when your parents told you they were going to marry you off to a kingdom far away, to a man you had never even met before.

Steven would complain that you thrashed and moved around too much, although he would encourage you to make all the noise that you wished. He pinned you down by your hips. Sometimes he’d make you make once, twice, thrice, it depended on how desperate he was to get his own release.

And then he’d have you on your back. Whispering the filthiest things to you as he fucked you, filled you up with his seed.

He’d hold you close to him, kissing your hair, kissing your cheeks and touching your ever so intimately. That was when you were the most clingy, you’d hold on so tightly to him. You were more vulnerable than usual. You would tell him about how, even though you love being the queen and his wife, it was so new and overwhelming, how you miss your family and your old life. How things had changed and so drastically. He’d always tell you that it would all be okay. That he would take care of you and never let anything bad ever happen to you.

Then he’d have you on your hands and knees. He told you he liked looking at your behind and spanking it.

After that you’d both fall asleep. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and nudge you awake to love you some more. But he rarely ever made you suck him off.

“You wanna suck my cock?” he smirked as you meekly nodded. “Go right ahead then, petal. It’s all yours now, you don’t have to ask,” he told you as he sat up on his knees.

You looked at his cock. Hard and standing tall and proud up against his stomach. You now knew that being aroused made him hard and much much bigger. Maybe that’s why it’s often such a tasking job to take him--often leaving your cunt so sore.

Soft dark golden hair, much like that of his beard, and then you noticed them. His twin balls.

You took a deep breath as you took him in your mouth, suckling on his head, following your instincts and what he had taught you.

Your hand coming up and cupping his balls, massaging them gently in your hand. You stopped when you felt him go stiff.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth you looked up at him. “Did I do something wrong?” as you wiped your spittle and his preejaculate off your mouth.

“No,” he shook his head. It wasn’t often that he was stunned. Not ever really. But you, taking that kind of initiative, to touch him without him asking for you to, did shock him just a little.

He held onto the back of your head, bringing his balls just next to your mouth, against your soft lips, “Suck on them,” he told you.

You suckled at one, working the other one with your hand as he pulled at the roots of your head.

“Fuck! Stop!” he heaved, pulling you away, “I have to save it for your beautiful cunt, my queen,” he told you as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before he pushed you back down on the mattress.

Swiftly entering you, you were still as tight as the night of your wedding, which meant he had to be patient while fucking you, and he tried. He really did. But he was not a patient man. Especially not when you had just put your mouth on him and worked your magic in mere seconds.

He put most of his weight on you as he slowly pushed in and out of you, your face scrunched up in pleasure as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

With your pussy hugging him so well, almost as if it was made for him, as if you were made by the gods just for him.

“What have you done to me?” he rasped, touching his damp forehead to yours. You had weaved some sort of magic on him, making him crazy for you. Now it was hard to tell where he ended and you began.

You pressed a hand against your mouth to stop from giggling or making any sort of noise. Resting your back against the cool surface of the throne. You chose the back of the throne in the court as your place of hiding. Maybe it wasn’t the most strategic ploy but you were playing against a six year old.

Lila Barton had asked to play hide and seek with you. Only to receive a scolding from her nanny--to not bother the queen with such trivial matters.

It was as if you were reliving your childhood. You always felt you were made to grow up and be a lady too fast. With your mother and sisters telling you how important it was to act mature and be a lady, or you wouldn’t be able to marry well. Or marry at all.

So you jumped at the first opportunity to play with the kid. Making her count to twenty before looking for a place to hide. You had to go get your lessons for sewing so you didn’t have a lot of time, you hoped she would find you soon.

“But you’re not even considering it!”

You perked up when you heard the familiar voice, it was Lady Sharon! You had to thank her for all her advice, things had been going great with Steven ever since you listened to her. He had been opening up to you as well, although he was still as voracious in his love making. If anything... he wanted you even more now. Which you didn’t think could even be possible.

But some part of you absolutely loved it. And you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You peaked out to see her, to maybe call her to join you on the floor, hiding behind the large throne. You frowned when you saw that she was holding onto Steven’s arm, looking up at him with a certain desperation in her eyes.

“There is nothing to consider. I’m a married man. It would be adultery – a crime,” he stated.

“Bu – but you promised, you told me you didn’t love her. You said you didn’t have any other choice. I’m not asking you to leave her for me, I know that’s not possible. I’m not a fucking idiot like her.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth again to keep your sobs in, tears streaming down your face as you watched your husband, and his lover, have a lovers quarrel.

You couldn’t hear any more of it. Couldn’t bear it breaking your heart anymore than it already had. You quickly got up, fleeing out of the room by the back entrance - which the servants often used.

“You watch your mouth when you speak of the queen,” he yanked his arm free of her, putting some distance between himself and her, “I didn’t make any promises like that. I told you I intended to be faithful to her even if I didn’t love her.”

He knew it was a mistake to ever get involved with Sharon. He never wanted to be a womanizer. But he had his needs. He didn’t think she would become so obsessed with him. He had broken off their short fling as soon as he became betrothed to you.

He felt responsible for all the rumours about him and her and her ruined reputation. So he had arranged for her to marry his good friend Stark but she had her mind set on him.

“I like the queen. She’s a good friend of mine. I don’t intend to replace her,” she explained. She had no interest in being a queen and having such tedious and boring responsibilities anyway—the power and the status that came along with it just wasn’t worth the hassle. She pitied you and how you just weren’t made for the job.

“But she can’t satisfy you, she can’t give you what you need-- What I can give you,” Being the Kings mistress would probably be better than being a Duchess and marrying some boring old man.

“Won’t you even think about it?”

“No I won’t. And you are to never speak of this again,” he warned her.

“Your grace...” Lydia was completely confused. Standing there with your dress in her hands as you frantically stuffed your clothes in a chest.

She had never seen two people as in love as you and the king. When she first met you, it didn’t seem as if you and Steven would make a good couple. She assumed your marriage would be like any other she had seen. Cold and distant.

Steve had never been smitten with a woman, she always felt there maybe something wrong with him. But he had grown so fond of you in such a short time. Even going as far as asking you to live with him in his chambers. Having the king around often made her duties to you challenging. But she was happy for you.

“I don’t understand. What wrong? Why do you want to leave so suddenly.” Does the king approve of your sudden departure? If not would she get in trouble for it?

“He lied to me,” you sobbed. “I thought--” you let out a hiccup.

“Calm down,” she said as she rubbed your forearms. She wasn’t afraid to touch you in such friendly ways, you weren’t as stuck up as most royals.

You took a deep breath as you tried to explain to your handmaiden why you both had to leave as soon as possible. Before Steven gets back. You’ll move all your things to the room you were supposed to live in and just lock him out of your chambers.

“I would’ve been fine living on my own. Just being a wife and a queen. But he made me believe... that we could be more. That he loved me. It’s not true,” you shook your head. “He lied. He has another lover.”

“Oh,” she let out. She was disappointed on your behalf but not surprised. It would be strange if the king didn’t have any other lovers. “I’m sorry, your grace.”

“I’ll be fine,” you sniffled. “This'll be a good lesson for me. My mother always told me I have my head in the clouds and should live in reality. That’ll teach me to dream.”

It was almost funny for her to watch you babble nonsense, stable boys, princesses and backstabbing friends, take a break to cry your heart out and then resume packing and trying to order all the other servants.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone stopped moving as soon as they heard the kings voice. He of course looked at the Lydia for an explanation.

“The queen wants us to...”

“I’m moving back to my old chambers,” you briskly walked to him, standing right in front of him, looking him in the eye. He was much taller than you, making you crane your neck to actually get a good look at him, but you still tried to look intimidating and confrontational.

“Why?” he frowned. “Put everything back just as it was,” he ordered everyone.

“No!” you stomped your foot, looking very much like an indignant child who had his toy taken away, than a queen, “Don’t! We’re moving!” But of course nobody would listen to you over Steven. Not just because he was their king, but also because he was much more intimidating than you.

“Stop it!” he reprimanded you. “Whatever troubles you may have, we can sort them out together, but you are not moving back. And that’s the end of that.”

“No! I’m leaving! I’d like to see you try to stop me!” You hmphed. Pushing past him and making way for the door. You didn’t need to take your things with you now, you could just send for them later.

You screamed bloody murder when you felt Stevens arm around your stomach, as he threw you over his shoulder in the blink of an eye, “HELP!!” You yelled at the guards and your maids, who didn’t want to get involved, quickly scurrying out of the room.

“Ring the bell if you need anything, your grace,” Lydia said on her way out to you before she closed the door. It didn’t seem as if the king intended to do any real harm to you so she wasn’t that worried about you.

You kept on hitting his back, thrashing around his hold to break free, “Put me down!”

He threw you on your marital bed, his fingers making quick work of ridding him of his clothes so he could show you how he was just never going to let you go.

“Why do you even care? If I leave or not? You can just call for your lover!”

“My lover?” he frowned as he tried to push your skirts up your legs, which was proving to be a difficult task. Maybe he should’ve asked the maids to undress you before making them leave.

“Do you love her?” you asked, looking up at him and stopping your futile resistance for a few moments, your lips wobbly as you felt your vision blue with tears. You were born a princess, living a relatively sheltered life, never knowing pain so unbearable. As if you would never recover from this, you would never be the same.

You would never believe in love again.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, petal,” he said, getting frustrated with all the buttons and ties on your dress and ripping your skirt apart. Which he regretted, just a little because you started crying again.

“No! I like this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a hundred more.” He said as he hovered over you, diving in to kiss your beautiful lips and make you stop saying such preposterous things.

You sniffled as you tried to push him away, making him gather your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

“Stop it,” he told you. “When will you understand that you belong to me now? If I say you have to live with me, here, then that’s what you’ll do.”

“I’m not your slave,” you retorted as you tried to wiggle your hands out of his grip.

“Stop listening to rumors! There are plenty going around. I do not have a lover.”

“No. I saw it with my own eyes. You and Lady Sharon. Just this afternoon.”

“What did you see?”

“I... she said she was your lover...?” You tried to think of what exactly had been said between them. But you couldn’t remember. You were blinded by your fury and your sorrow.

“We used to be lovers, before you and I ever met, but not anymore. I could never think of another, I could never love anyone else,” he said softly as he touched your cheek with his other hand, “You want to know why?”

“Why?” you pouted, feeling a little stupid now.

“Because you’ve ruined me, my queen. You’ve made me a lovesick fool. I could never love anyone else the way I love you. Do you want to know how much I love you?” he asked as you meekly nodded.

Pulling his cock out of breaches, he pushed your skirts up, exposing your thighs to him, he rubbed his cock along the slick of your pussy.

“Did fighting with me make you wet, my queen?” he asked, making you avert your gaze.

“I...” it was the way he had simply thrown you around, how he just wouldn’t let you leave, “Maybe...”

“Hm, don’t start picking fights with me for no reason though. My poor heart won’t be able to bear it,” he cooed as he kissed your cheeks, wet from your tears. “You look beautiful when you cry, love, but I only want you crying when I’m fucking you, you understand?”

“Yes...”

He pushed inside you, you were tighter than usual, it was difficult to even properly enter you. The pain of it of course made you cry again. You sobbed into the crook of his neck as he shushed you.

“You feel my love, darling,” he asked as he was buried to the hilt inside you, “I’ll give you a child soon enough. Then you’ll have a living breathing proof of it,” he whispered in your ear as he started steadily moving, making sure that he won’t hurt you.

“I wish... I was your one and only... like you are mine,” you sniffled as you held on to him, soon it is wasn’t hurting as much, it was a little uncomfortable but you could bear through it.

“You are my one and only. You’re the only woman I have ever loved. Do you love me, petal?”

He looked down at you, wanting you to say it. He needed you to love him, for you to say it to him, he needed to know you weren’t here just because you were scared of him.

“I love you, Steve,” you sniffled, rubbing your runny nose with the back of your hand.

He smiled at you, his hand trailing down both your bodies as he twisted your pearl between his fingers.

“It’s okay... it’s okay...” He kept telling you as you screamed at the top of your lungs, your climax making your mind and your vision fuzzy.

“I’m going to fill you up, petal,” he told you as he finished inside you, staying inside you for a long while after he was done just to make sure you knew how he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him.

[babyboiboyega]

I can explain (Shangqi x f!reader)

Shangqi x f!reader

Prompt: “When everything’s going wrong, the mere thought of you makes it right.” + never wanting to pull away kiss

Content: a little angst, but more fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist

A/N: this is my first ever time writing for Shangqi (or Shang-Chi), and I already have a lot of other ideas for this incredibly loveable character.

I hope you all enjoyed this!

A heavy sigh left Y/N’s mouth as she unceremoniously dropped onto her couch. The feeling of her limbs relaxing into the cushions almost prompted a moan of relief to follow the heavy sigh. It did, however, make her eyes flutter closed as she leaned her head back.

Y/N had been thinking of this moment the entire day. The moment when her week ended and her weekend began; a weekend of not having to deal with rude, angry-at-the-world customers who decide to yell at her because a privately owned publishing warehouse doesn’t print the book that they want. Or the customers who don’t check their emails for their tracking information and then get mad at her, for some absurd reason.

Another sigh leaves her mouth, and this time with the sigh goes her thoughts of work, entering the empty air for the weekend. 

But being off on the weekend didn’t exactly mean being absolved of texts and calls from fellow coworkers, ranting about customers, or even management. So when her phone’s ringer went off, signaling a new incoming text, she simply kept her eyes closed. She certainly had enough time to read and reply...but maybe later.

The text had already migrated to the back of her mind in the span of a few seconds...and then her phone went off again. This time, two quick “dings” sounded through her apartment. 

Her eyes opened before she slowly sat up, her phone coming into view. Before she could spare another though about her phone and it’s notifications, her hand quickly reached for the remote and pressed the power button.

She managed to flip through a few channels before her phone rang once more, and this time it was accompanied by a few knocks on her door.

Completely disregarding the fact that it was almost 11 at night and she hadn’t been expecting anyone, and being fueled by her now very obvious annoyance, it only took her a few strides to reach her door. In all honesty, she’d had no idea what she was going to say to whoever was on the other side of her door; but whatever had been ready to leave her lips died as soon as she opened the door.

“Shaun?”

She hadn’t been able to control the volume and surprise in her voice, and she saw his grimace in response. She couldn’t find it in herself to care if he didn’t like the volume in her voice; the very next emotions she felt surge through her body was...well, it was a cross between worry and anger. 

“Y/N...hey.” He had a sheepish smile on his face; one that showed off his dimple. One that she had to restrain from returning. But then she remembered the last time she had seen that same smile and the last time she had even heard from him. Her eyebrows raised incredulously.

“‘Hey?’ ‘Hey’?? That’s all...that’s all you have to say to me after being gone for...a month? And some weeks?” 

She could hear the hurt in her own voice, and it made her want to cringe at herself.

‘He could have been doing more important things than worrying about you’ is all that went through her mind.

Her arms crossed self-consciously in front of her.

“Please, let me explain. It’s… it’s actually crazier than you think.”

The hesitance on her part came from her nagging thoughts that flipped between “he was genuinely busy” and “he’s about to make up some absurd excuse for why he hasn’t spoken to you while also letting you down gently”.

“May I come in?” His eyebrows were raised as he gently asked for her permission. Y/N quickly nodded and stepped to the side before her thoughts could scare her too much.

His eyes stayed on her as he stepped past her, entering her apartment. She took a second to take a deep breath before closing the door behind him. 

She briefly wondered how her face looked as she turned to face him. Did she look as hurt and worried as she felt? Could he see her feelings on her face?

“I’m sorry for disappearing for...as long as I did. And I’m sorry for not reaching out at all during that time. But I can explain why.”

His eyes followed her figure as she walked slowly around her kitchen counter. He made no effort to hide the pleading look in his eyes, and he only began talking when Y/N raised her eyebrows from across the counter. 

“Okay. Just...bare with me.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed and more questions filled her mind as she watched him take a breath as if he were bracing himself. 

Y/N hadn’t known what to expect when he had started talking, but she definitely wasn’t expecting a story filled with martial arts, trained assassins, ancient organizations, soul-sucking demons, and dragons. 

Even after he had explained everything, his eyes watching and waiting for her reaction, she still couldn’t find the words to express herself.

Her body was frozen in its same position, and her eyes were wide and staring right at him. As the silence stretched between them, he couldn’t help grimacing slightly once again.

“Also, my name isn’t really Shaun. It’s Shangqi.”

That last piece of information seemed to finally shake Y/N out of her stupor, as she blinked quickly and let out a quick breath. 

“I...I don’t know what to say.” In all honesty, all of this was kind of making her head spin, and it was evident in the way her breathing picked in just the slightest. 

“W-What exactly do you say to someone who’s just saved the world? ‘Thank you’? ‘I owe you my life’- because, I guess, technically, I do owe you my life. Because of you, I still have my life- or my soul.”

At her rambling, Shangqi’s expression shifted from one of wariness to relief to a little worried. It had only just crossed his mind that he was worried that she wouldn’t believe him, and not worried about how she would receive the information.

She believed every word that had just come from his mouth, simply because she knew that he wouldn’t lie about something like this. She knew that he wouldn’t lie to her… at least she hoped he wouldn’t.

“You don’t have to say anything. I...I just needed you to know why I was gone. The thought of letting you go one more second thinking I just...left you was driving me crazy.”

A humorless laugh forced its way through Y/N’s lips. 

“Yeah, thinking I had driven you away was driving me crazy too.”

Before she could even regret her words, her eyes were drawn to Shangqi, whose head was shaking quickly. In a few steps, he had walked around the counter, coming to a stop a few feet from her. 

“That was never the case, I swear. You could never drive me away, not even if you tried.”

At the minuscule smile that appeared on her face, he risked taking another step forward. 

From where he stood, he could smell faint traces of her favorite perfume that had slowly worn off during her day. Her favorite perfume had quickly become his favorite scent, simply because it reminded him of her. 

From where she stood, she could easily see the faint signs of exhaustion on his face. No doubt from the strains of the last month and a half. It made her want to reach out to him. 

“Every second, from the moment we left, all I could think about was coming back to you. Even while staring into the face of a-”

“A mega soul-sucking demon?”

The quiet laugh that left his mouth seemed to weigh on her body, but not with pressure. Instead, all she felt was warmth, and it coursed through her veins with the power of 11 suns.

“Yes,” there was laughter in his voice as he responded, “even while staring into the face of a mega soul-sucking demon.”

As he spoke, he had gradually moved forward until taking a deep breath would easily have their chests brushing against each other.

Y/N couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke, her eyes flickering between Shangqi’s.

“You...you really thought of me when you were saving the world?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand raised and gently cupped her cheek. Soon after, she felt pressure from his forehead connecting with hers. Without hesitation, her own hands lifted, coming to grasp at his sides, desperate to pull him closer.

His breath fanned across her face as he spoke, and it made her hands tighten.

“When everything’s going wrong, the mere thought of you always makes it right.”

His words were quickly swallowed by Y/N’s lips pressing against his with fervor. The hand that was on her cheek gently titled her head back as he kissed her back with just as much passion, while his other hand wound around her waist. They both pulled at the other, as if they couldn’t get close enough. 

The warmth that had been coursing through her veins quickly turned into leg-numbing electricity the longer their lips were connected. Her eyes were closed, and so were his, but they could both see the other’s face behind their lids, surrounded by the stars their presence created. 

The only thing that could pull them apart was the need for air, and even then, as their foreheads connected and their lips stayed hovering over each other’s, they breathed the same air.

Shangqi’s words were shaky as he spoke, his thumb rubbing circles into her skin.

“You make everything right.”

**********

Once again, I hope you all enjoyed this! I would take requests for this character, but I still have a ton of requests for LOK....

But maybe sometime in the near future!

In the meantime, I would appreciate it if y’all would interact in any way with this! Comments, criticism, questions, etc would be amazing, as would reblogs, but even just liking this helps!

Stay safe, y’all!

[buckyownsmylife]

Young and Beautiful - Steve Rogers smut

The one where you were supposed to be a one-night stand, but Steve won't let that happen

Warnings: smut, and a little bit of angst.

A/N: this was our first ever patreon-voted fic, chosen for the month of May! My patreons at the $3 tier get to send me their ideas once a month and two of them end up being voted so I can write one of them each month. June’s fic is the one where Ransom needs to get a sugar mommy, and if you want to suggest a story for our July’s fic, please consider becoming a patreon! Thank you to my darling @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ for reading this over for me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The first time wasn’t a mistake, I could admit to that. Steve had been coming to the same bar where I worked for almost a year now. I knew who he was, of course. Everyone knew - he was hard to miss. But I think what he liked about our run-down place is that no one seemed to care about Captain America and the things he did when he didn’t have a bottle of beer in his hand.

Over here, he was just Steve. And Steve tipped well and drank a lot - I was sure he couldn’t get drunk, no matter how many beers I served him, but he never stopped asking me for more.

So, needless to say, he was adored. Adored by my boss, who was always around to keep watch of his customers and keep them in line. Adored by Luke, who guarded the entrance, for all the nights Steve helped him get rid of men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. And adored by all the waitresses, for precisely the same reason - and because I always shared my tips with all of them.

Even the kitchen staff adored Steve. Besides, it’s not like he was hard on the eye - all the girls (customers and staff) were constantly fawning over him, but he was nothing short of a gentleman, always.

Actually, he seemed to avoid the members of the opposite sex as best as he could, clearly not interested in whatever it was that they planned to possibly get to do with him. Well, except for me.

He never avoided me. I always figured it was because I was the guardian of the alcohol - we’d even joke about it sometimes, when he came to sit by the bar after politely declining someone’s advances.

“It’s just hard to understand how to date nowadays,” he commented one day after a pretty girl actually asked him out on a date right in front of me, but he refused. I shrugged as I wiped the counter, thinking if there was any advice I could give him.

“It really isn’t that hard. You go out to dinner, walk her home and when you step in front of her door, you ask her for some coffee. She’ll usually do it herself, but if you want to show your interest…” His frown was amusing, to say the least, but I held back my laughter so he wouldn’t be even more uncomfortable.

“A coffee?” Giggling, I nodded. “Before bed? But…”

“It’s a metaphor, Steve. A lady can’t very well invite you into her sheets, now can she?” He blushed three different shades of red when I winked, another giggle escaping. “I mean, she can, but we like to keep some things unsaid - innuendos can be very sexy.”

Two months had passed and if Steve made use of my lessons, I wouldn’t know. He never brought anyone to the bar and never left with any lady who approached him either.

“What can I get ya, Steve?” I’d always ask. I’d never once called him Cap or anything other than the name he used to introduce himself - even though I obviously knew who he was. He always took his time before answering my questions, even if they required a simple yes or no, which amused me to no end.

For a while, I actually believed a gun or one of the buildings the Hulk had undoubtedly thrown in his direction had left him with a difficulty of hearing. But then after my first question, he never seemed to have any problem understanding me at all.

“Just a beer,” he’d say, a small, soft smile as he tried not to stare too much at me, fingers tapping on the counter while I got his order. I appreciated his effort not to make me uncomfortable - I knew he’d seen how often men did that to me. I had no doubt that was why he only ever looked me in the eye from under those huge eyelashes of his.

“There you go.” Always the same routine, we never once deviated from it. Until one night when I was supposed to close the bar and he heard my boss instructing me to be careful.

“There’s been a lot of robberies this late at night. Make sure you lock everything up properly.” I saluted in jest, making the old man laugh and shake his head at me. “See you tomorrow, kid.”

There were only a handful of customers - Steve included, and he was the only one by the bar, so I threw him a quick smile as I wiped the glasses and started to clean the counter.

“Can I get you anything else?” I offered, but he only grimaced in response, leaving me confused. “Is there something wrong?” He stared directly at me without answering for a while before he was able to snap out of whatever it was that had frozen him.

“You’re supposed to leave by yourself at two in the morning?” I chuckled lightly at his concern, avoiding his gaze so he wouldn’t see how it warmed my heart that he’d be preoccupied over me, someone that was a little more than a stranger to him.

“It’s part of the job,” I reassured him. “Well, usually it’s part of Luke’s job. But whenever he has to leave early, it’s my duty to fill in for him.” He nodded, but didn’t make any movement towards leaving. Usually, he would be gone by now, but it wasn’t that extraordinary for him to stay until the hour I left.

This was the first time he stayed this long though, considering I wasn’t the one responsible for closing the bar and I only realized it when I looked around and noticed we were the last two people left in the room.

“Planning on drinking much more?” I joked, trying to gauge if he was going to be much longer, but he seemed startled by my question, looking around to verify the same thing I’d just noticed.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” I smiled, thankful that he was conscious and wouldn’t force me to stay even longer after my shift had finished. “I just figured I could walk you home. It is pretty late, after all.”

My heart warmed up at how sweet and thoughtful this man was. He had no reason to wait for me to finish my job just to walk me home, yet here he was. “Thank you, Steve,” I acknowledged, sending him a grateful grin. “Let me just check the bathrooms real quick. I’ll grab my purse and we can leave.”

He nodded, watching me do as I said and in no time at all we took off together in the direction of my apartment. I wasn’t worried about making small talk with him on the way there - I knew he was a good conversationalist from all the times he had stayed by the bar instead of taking his beer to a table, and I adored the stories he told of his missions just as much as I appreciated how he genuinely cared about what I had to say.

The walk to my place seemed shorter than ever before, and in a few minutes we were standing in front of my door as I searched for my keys in my bag.

“C-Can I…” He murmured as I looked for it, glancing up at him and smiling to signal he should continue even though I couldn’t give him my full attention at that moment. “Would you… Do you have some coffee?”

I was so shocked that my head whipped up to stare at him, eyes wide and unbelieving. Did Steve… Did he… Did he want to have sex with me? “I mean… in your apartment, do you have some coffee in your apartment?”

The thought was so extraordinary that the second I realized his intentions, a fire of desire warmed my lower belly, not because he was Captain America, but because he was an attractive and sweet guy that was way out of my league and I couldn’t believe he was into me.

He kept talking as I kept blinking at him, trying to process what was going on. “’Cause I’d really like to have some coffee… with you… If you want some too…”

His voice got smaller the longer it took for me to answer him, until it disappeared completely and he cleared his throat. “Nevermind.” He was about to turn around and make a run for it, I was sure, but I was able to grasp his wrist just in time, signalling him to stop because I had something to say.

“I would love to make you some coffee, Steve.”

So yeah, the first time wasn’t a mistake. He was way too fucking sweet and I got hot just by seeing how nervous he was to ask me for some “coffee”, incredulous that I was capable of affecting this giant man that much.

So as soon as we were in my apartment, I tied up my hair with the little hair tie I always kept on my wrist during work and got on my knees for him.

And I cherished every fucking second of it.

The way his mouth fell open in a gasp when I reached for his jeans, the little moans he let out as I licked his member… I couldn’t close my eyes, too transfixed by his expressions to miss anything.

The way he pulled me by my hair to devour my mouth, hands so eager to undress me that he ended up ripping my blouse, but it only made me giggle.

The way his groan sounded almost painful when he picked me up, shoved me against the door and penetrated me, filling me so beautifully I hit my head back against the wood and didn’t even notice it.

He got me to cum without almost no preparation, just from the thrill of it all, the stretch of his member inside of me. When I urged him to cum in my pussy, the look on his eyes was enough to get me to cum again, milking him dry as he emptied himself with a growl, forehead dropping against mine while he tried to catch his breath.

I was expecting him to leave immediately or maybe stay for an actual coffee. I wasn’t expecting him to pull out, drop to his knees and start lapping his cum from inside of me, eyes as focused on mine as I had been for him only minutes before.

Burying my fingers in his short locks, I tried to keep myself up despite the way my legs trembled, but Steve just adjusted them so they’d be over his shoulders and held me up with his face buried in me.

I had never cum so many times in a row. But then again, I had never had a man eat his own cum out of me.

I fully intended it to be a one time thing, and that was my plan. I thanked him for eating me out, made him some coffee, giggled at his stories about his friends and for a second it almost looked like we were back at the bar, only the counter was my kitchen table and I was allowed to sit on the other side.

He didn’t ask to stay the evening and I breathed a sigh of relief after I closed the door behind him, ignoring the slight empty feeling that momentarily hit me. This is what I wanted, I reminded myself, and by acting the way I expected him to, he had made it clear that he understood the rules of the dating world he claimed to know so little of.

This was a one time deal. Nothing more.

But then the first night we saw each other at the bar again, it was when he burst through the door to punch some guy who came in just as I was closing, trying to steal the money we had in the vault. I was so fucking relieved to see his face that all I could do was tremble in his arms after the police came to get the robber, and of course I couldn’t let him go after that.

He walked me home and I didn’t even ask anything, just stood on my tiptoes to kiss his lips, using my grip on his shirt to pull him in as he helped me with my clothes.

“You’re so fucking pretty…” He moaned, and perhaps that should have been my first sign, the one that alerted me to stop what I was doing and not make this into a mistake I couldn’t take back.

He hadn’t talked the last time. He had never complimented me before.

“God, your ass…” He groaned as he palmed it, helping me over his lap when he took a seat on my couch, until I could fuse the both of us and ride us to hysteria.

But I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind because it felt so fucking good to be desired by him, to have him inside of me, cumming deep into my pussy only to eat it all out of me again.

It didn’t take long for me to learn about the errors of my way, though. In fact, it started the very next day, when he walked into the bar grinning from ear to ear and made a beeline in my direction.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and my eyes went wide as two saucers, especially when I saw him lean over the counter like he intended to peck my lips.

“Hello, Captain.” I quickly turned my back to him, facing the shelves of liquor to pretend that I was looking for something. My heart sank to my stomach as I took in what was happening, what I had just done in my effort to put some distance between us as if last night had never happened. “Can I get you anything?”

The time it took for him to answer almost had me looking at him from over my shoulder, but I restrained myself. “Yeah, you,” he finally said, and I breathed out in surprise. “Why are you acting this way?”

I panicked for a few seconds, reaching up for an already clean glass to attack it with my rag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tried to reassure the both of us, still incapable of looking him in the eye.

But I could see his massive body by the end of the counter from the corner of my eyes, where he always sat, and I saw him tap the old battered wood with his fingers - fingers he had used to spread me open for his tongue to reach - as he thought.

I hoped he would let it go. I hoped he would not.

“Fine,” he relented, and I froze, uncertain of what he meant. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” My head snapped up just in time to watch him leave, and he didn’t even look over his shoulder.

I tried to tell myself it was for the best. He needed some time to get over whatever the hell it was that he thought he was feeling and tomorrow things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

He came back with flowers the next day, and I didn’t have any reasonable excuse not to accept it. He didn’t push for anything, just gave me the bouquet before asking for his usual drink. And then he proceeded to stay the entire evening right there, where he always sat, carefully watching my every move.

For the first time in a while, I broke two glasses in a single evening.

The day after that, he came with a box of chocolates. I couldn’t hide the smile because they were my favorite - I didn’t know how he knew it until he reminded me.

“You told me you liked them right when I started coming to this place.” His eyes were so heavy with a sad feeling that I couldn’t recognize that I had to avert my gaze. It messed with my heartbeat, it left my throat feeling dry.

“Thanks, Captain,” I softly acknowledged it, and I saw the way his grip on the box tightened. I saw it in the way it was slightly crumpled when I took it from his hands, but he didn’t say a word.

There was only so much that he could take, though. And I knew that. It didn’t help that my boss had caught onto his intentions and started to push me to go out on a date with him.

“Why don’t you give the poor guy a chance?” He’d incite, much to Steve’s utter glee.

“Yeah, Y/N. Why don’t you go out with me?” Steve urged, and although he never asked when my boss wasn’t around to initiate the teasing, I knew he wondered.

And the truth was that I wondered about it too. Because everything was screwed up now. When I gave him his beer and our fingers brushed, mine were left tingling. When I looked his way to find his gaze already on me, I shivered.

So yes, the second time was undeniably a mistake, but there wouldn’t be a third time. I’d make sure of it.

Steve’s P.O.V.

I was tired of waiting. I knew I had wanted her since the first time I laid my eyes on her, when I decided to stop at this rundown bar in the hopes of one night of crappy beer without being bothered by anyone asking for autographs or pictures.

I’d come here almost every night when I could escape the tower to watch her work, slowly getting her to warm up to me, and I fell for her personality in the process.

The way she clearly saw me as Steve, and not my title.

The way she always laughed at my stories and shared what had happened in the previous nights with the raucous customers.

The way she seemed to care about everyone and everything that came into contact with her.

So what started as desire became something deeper and for the first time since I was unfrozen, I found myself eager to understand what dating in this new century was like. I asked Sam for advice, and even Tony for any tips he could give me, but their general ideas didn’t matter to me when all I wanted was one single person.

Her.

So I asked her for her thoughts on the matter and was surprised with myself when I put them into practice. I was even more surprised when she accepted my advances and welcomed me into her embrace.

I was sure I’d never been happier than that evening.

But to have her pretend nothing had happened and even worse - treat me like a stranger after I had learned the taste of her skin? Nothing hurt deeper than that.

And still, I understood. I realized then that she hadn’t seen the situation the way that I had. She had thought all I wanted was a one-night deal - well, two-night deal - because I had never shown her anything to make her think differently.

So I set out to do just that. My way this time. And I was just about ready to ask her on a proper date when I was forced away for a whole damn month, having to resort to my hand and my memories of her body to get through the cold nights on the field.

The second I was back in the city, I only had one thing in mind. To get what I wanted, in whatever way she would let me.

“Can we talk?” My voice sounded clipped to my own ears, and maybe that’s why her mouth opened in surprise - or maybe it was seeing me at the bar so early, when there was barely anyone around, after being absent for so long.

“Sure,” she finally accepted, shrugging like it was no big deal, but I knew better than that. She might not know it, but I could read her perfectly, and I knew she was hiding her true feelings even to herself. I knew those feelings were deeper than she had ever felt. I knew they made her scared.

“Not here.” She stopped cleaning glasses then, frozen for a second before she looked around, taking in the fact that no one else was going to need her for a while. There was nowhere to run and maybe I was a jerk for doing this during her work hours, but I was a desperate jerk and I couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Okay.” She sounded small, and I knew what she was expecting to get out of this conversation. Closure, in one way or another. For me to finally let go of her. But I wouldn’t.

I wanted her too damn bad to let her escape like that.

“Go out with me.” I asked the second that the office door was closed behind us, and she immediately started shaking her head. “Yes, please,” I insisted. “Let me show you that I want more from you. I want so much more.”

“I can’t give you more,” was her answer, and she still avoided my eyes as she spoke. “One night, you even had two. That’s all I can give you. Please don’t ask me for anything more.”

“Why?” I asked, and the frustration in my voice was enough to get her to meet my eyes for the first time that evening. “Why are you trying to avoid this? I know you want me, Y/N. You wouldn’t have slept with me if you didn’t. So just tell me why.”

“I can’t,” she insisted, moving towards the door, but I grasped her hand to stop her before she could slip through it - much like she had done that first night, when I thought I’d screwed up any chance I had to ever be with her.

“Tell me why you’re holding yourself back from me,” I ordered, anger and desire creating an explosive cocktail inside of me, making my voice hoarse. I saw her shiver. I watched her break.

“Because it was too fucking good and I swear to God, if you get your mouth on me again, I’m gonna marry you.” Our expressions mirrored one another, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. She couldn’t believe she had let out her feelings like this. I couldn’t believe there was all there was to it.

I dropped to my knees before her.

“Come here.” I shoved her jeans all the way down to her ankles, sending the button flying somewhere. I couldn’t tell where and I didn’t care. All I wanted was to show her that there was nothing wrong with wanting this, with wanting me because as long as she allowed me to, I’d give anything to be with her.

My tongue was so hungry to taste her sweetness again. I licked a stripe between her lower lips before I could even get my hand there, spreading her with my fingers for easier access.

God, she was heavenly. I watched her let her head fall back against the door, much like the first time I was able to be in this position, and my heartbeat fluttered at the realization that this time, I was much closer to getting what I really wanted from her.

“I’ve been terrified of my own feelings for long enough,” I decided to confess, parting from her clit to be able to speak but slipping two digits inside her hole, filling her up, preparing her to welcome me. “I can wait for you to come to terms with yours. But I can’t keep myself away,” I warned, quickening my movements as I chased away the taste of her in my tongue. “So don’t ask that of me.”

Her moan had my eyes sparkling with excitement. I lowered my head to suck her button, see the way it made her thighs tremble on each side of my face.

“So fucking sexy,” I moaned against her cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart. Drench my face.” Her little cry of ecstasy denounced she was about to do just that, so I twirled my tongue around her clit, rubbing my digits against her sweet spot as her body tensed under my ministrations.

“There you go…” I whispered, fascinated with the way she looked after her release. It was like she glowed from the inside, muscles relaxing to accept my caresses when I finished cleaning her with my tongue and rose to my full height.

“Next time you try to pretend something between us didn’t happen, I’m gonna bend you over the counter and spank your ass in front of all of the other patrons,” I warned her before nibbling her earlobe. “Go out with me,” I tried again, and she took a deep breath before answering, looking up at me from under her eyelashes.

“Okay.”

[bibbykins]

Double Date

A/N: Hello my dears! I'm not done with the Jin and/or Hobi confession yet but I did write this little flashback last week and think I'm finally ready to post it! This is the situation in which Jimin discovered MC's reaction to yelling, just to clarify. As always, please hop into my ask box and give me some of that lovely feedback!

Note: This is a flashback as part of the drabble series The Household's Bunny, which I recommend reading the installments of prior to this one

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jimin x Chubby! Reader

Warnings: Lying, fatphobia, usage of the word "fat" as an insult, talks of sex, yelling, vomiting, implied previous trauma, bad friend, loser date, verbal argument, implied stalking, yandereish behavior

Summary: On a double date was not how Jimin imagined your first date with him going. Let alone, a double date in which you both are with someone else. The torture of sitting next to his ex and watching you with another man was well worth it to see you up close. He could only hope you and his "date" don't mind his blatant staring at you.

Jimin often wondered how he ended up so stupid sometimes. From prodigy orphan to absolute idiot. It was a little tragic. Here you were, back from the hospital, a smile on your face, sitting across the table from him… and he was on a date with your friend Yoora.

Sure, Yoora was fine, but she wasn’t you. That’s why they had broken up in the first place. He just… didn’t like her. Of course, he omitted the fact was that he liked someone else.

You, on the other hand, were on a date with some lowlife he hadn’t even bothered to remember the name of. Yoora had begged Jimin to go on a date, to which he vehemently denied. He had dated Yoora and things fizzled out quickly, so he saw no value in going on a date again. He only budged with her begging when she said it was for you, who was apparently too nervous to be on a date alone with this other guy. He sprung at the chance to see you outside of class, something he could only hope Yoora didn’t notice. Although, Jimin couldn’t help but wonder why you would go on a date with someone you weren’t comfortable being alone with, but maybe he was just bitter you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him.

You flashed Jimin a brief smile in between your chat with Yoora, making his mind go blank. Fuck, you were so pretty. You wore a simple white turtleneck with a brown plaid skirt and brown loafers with white socks to match. You looked unbelievably cute, even against the aged neon fabric of the chairs at the bowling alley. Not that your date appreciated just how divine you looked, hardly paying you any mind, instead looking around constantly and only really responding to Yoora.

Not that Jimin was being much better to Yoora. His eyes were constantly fixated on you, but both you and Jimin unaware of this blatant fact. He hadn’t been this close to you outside of the classroom in… well, basically ever. He watched with hearts in his eyes as you bowled your second gutter ball. He laughed as you bowed cheekily before returning to the table right as your date went to bowl.

“I’m so full!” Yoora exclaimed as you sat back down, the pizza you both agreed to share only having two slices out of it as you reached to make it a third, “I don’t know how you can eat more than one slice, y/n! Good for you.” She giggled obnoxiously as your moves faltered in setting the pizza on your plate.

Jimin’s eyes landed on Yoora’s form for the first time in the whole night with a displeased look. Her form shrunk under his sharp glare and any future taunts she had planned died on her tongue as you searched for the words to say, “She’s just keeping herself nourished for me, aren’t you babe?” Your date spoke with a slimy voice as he slid in the booth next to you and Jimin watched confusion fill your face. Jimin’s smile noticeably dropped.

"It's a little silly to imagine everything she does is for you, no?" Jimin gave your date a pointed look, all with a smile on his face, as your date also shrunk, nodding awkwardly.

The most input your date ever gave to you directly was about how hot you were or to chide at your poor bowling skills. It was a little painful watching your smile fade throughout the date, and Yoora joining in to try and make you feel even worse wasn’t helping. Jimin couldn't imagine a scenario in which any of this would make you happy, and he just couldn't hold his tongue the entire time.

“I’m just hungry.” You shrugged, figuring Jimin was just being a gentleman in lightly scolding Jihoon, “I eat when I’m hungry, hence the pizza.” You spoke simply as you took another bite. You knew what Yoora was doing. Passive-aggressive slights to your weight in front of romantic partners were not shocking to you in the slightest.

This was why you didn’t want to go on a double date with Yoora. Sometimes she was nice and funny, but other times she was like a mean girl straight out of a teen movie. This was why you considered Yoora more acquaintance than a friend since she only talked to you when she had no other friends around. This dynamic was fine enough since you hadn’t made any friends in college, so having someone to interact with was nice enough, but you drew the line at her getting this intimately involved. However, she insisted she should bring herself and Jimin along for your safety. You had joked you’d like to see Jihoon try to carry you away to kidnap you, but she didn’t laugh.

It was ironic that your weight was only funny when she was making the joke.

Yoora shrunk a bit as she watched a smile grace Jimin’s features again while you ate, “I’m gonna use the bathroom.” She spoke hurriedly out of nowhere and you gave her a small wave.

Your date resumed his survey of the building before his eyes caught sight of something and went wide, “Shit, a friend from my bio lab is here.” He murmured quite loudly before turning to you, “I’ll be right back.” He spoke in a similarly rushed tone as he made a bee-line to the restroom.

You gave Jihoon a weak smile, waving him away when you realized he didn’t even look at you for a response before getting up. Well, there goes another liar. Last night it was, “Baby, you’re so beautiful. I could see myself marrying you. Let me take you on a date and then we can come back to my place and seal the deal.” You were no longer so naive as to think a simple handjob would make Jihoon a romantic, but you did hope it would be enough motivation for him to reciprocate with skill. You hated liars, especially liars who do it to get into your bed. On top of that a horny liar with no skill.

Jimin noticed your date dodge the line of vision of his friend and sneak to the bathrooms and frowned, “Why is he going to the bathroom if his friend is right there?” He mused to himself.

“To hide.” You sighed, making Jimin jump, shocked you heard him. You looked up and saw his confusion before sighing, “He doesn’t want to be seen with me, so he’s going to the bathroom.”

Still short-circuiting from the direct eye contact he was making with you, he sputtered, “Wha- Why would-”

“Look at me.” You poked the sliver stomach between the hem of your top and the top of your skirt. Jimin admired the plush skin before snapping himself from the trance.

He shrugged, “I am, and it makes even less sense.” He finally had the determination to hold eye contact with you without his mind going into overdrive and right as you opened your mouth to respond, your phone vibrated.

You looked down at it with a frown, “Yoora wants me to meet her outside.” You mumbled, before looking up at Jimin, “I don’t think I was supposed to say that to you.” You looked at him with a sorry look, “I’ll be back.”

You pushed the front doors open to see Yoora standing with her arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently as she looked around, as if she didn’t send you the text message a mere minute ago. She caught sight of you and her eyes went wide before settling into a smug gaze, “Ah, there you are!” She smiled and it was sickly sweet, “I wanted to tell you Jihoon and I are leaving.”

Ah, she must have been looking around for his car to come around. Well, that’s saving you the awkward conversation of rejecting him, so you shrugged, “Okay.”

Evidently not wanting the nonchalant reaction you gave her she scoffed, “Seriously? You have nothing to say?” For some reason, Yoora would sometimes make it her mission to push your buttons, usually, this was by making you flustered, so you’re not sure what happened to spur on such unadulterated malice.

However, you didn’t really have the energy to dissect it so you shrugged a little more incredulously, “What is there to say? No?” You scoffed, “You guys are consenting adults, you both made a choice-”

“God, you’re so annoying!” Her increase in volume made you jump and also caught the eyes of fellow students and unaffiliated customers just trying to have a night out.

Nevertheless, you blinked wildly, “Me?!” You guffawed, “You’re the one that brought me out here to tell me you’re ditching me and your date?” The whole thing felt so ridiculous.

“Yes, you!” Her hands gestured to you wildly, “My date is oogling you and so I decide to seduce yours and you just say ‘okay’?!” Her volume was increasing and you could feel a familiar nausea pooling in your stomach, “Let me be pissed at you for stealing my date!”

“It’s not my fault I’m hot, nor does that make you less hot.” You countered, not really believing it was you Jimin was interested in, but more so Yoora he wasn’t interested in, “He just doesn’t like you. You said you knew that.” You pointed out, making her falter because you were right. Yoora told you Jimin wasn’t interested in her but she was trying to change that despite your words of caution.

“You? Hot? You’re fat!” Ah, there it was. She was evidently running out of sound reasons to be mad at you but was still not ready to just face the fact that she felt shitty her date looked at the fat girl more than he looked at her.

You couldn’t contain your laugh, “Oh, no shit? I am?” You mockingly looked down at your form, which only seemed to fan the flames.

“Just get fucking mad at me!” She shouted, wiping the smile off of your face

You sucked your teeth, “Stop yelling. You know that yelling makes me-”

She rolled her eyes before losing her mind, “What do I know about you?! You won’t even tell me why you were in the hospital-”

Now you were getting really queasy and annoyed, wanting this to end because at this point she was just yelling at you to feel like less of an asshole, “Because you’ll just tell everyone, and it’s not their business- or yours for that matter!” You felt a little bad criticizing her gossipy nature, but you knew you were going to puke any minute now.

“I’m your friend!” She spat, ironically, in a rather unfriendly manner

You scoffed, “You’re going home with my date!”

This seemed to catch her off guard, almost, almost, making her realize she was simply being an asshole, but she stuck to her guns, “He-He doesn’t even like you!”

“And yet, if we’re such good friends, you’re still going home with him to what? Prove a point to me?!” You were exasperated as you heard his obnoxious car pull up behind you, “I know now he doesn’t like me, that’s what the date was for!” You were beyond tired as you watched her eyes dart between you and the red Mustang, “But now I know that you don’t really like me either.” You sighed and this made her sight settle on your form, her gaze significantly softer.

“Y/n…” Her voice was lower, surrendering.

“It’s fine. You’re not required to like me.” You insisted, “I just wish you wouldn’t lie about it.” This time, you felt a little hurt at your own words, but the bile in your throat wouldn’t give you much time to reflect on it, especially as Jihoon honked his horn, like the gentleman he was, “Well? Go on.” You gestured to the obnoxious car as Yoora got in with her head down.

Not even bothering to wait for them to drive away, you ran to the alley on the side of the building with a hand clasped over your mouth. The moment you made it to the dim-lit hallway of brick, you puked your guts out. The bile burned your throat, but you could still feel a careful hand pulling your hair back ever so gently as another hesitantly rubbed your back. The touch was calming and void of judgment. You figured someone assumed you were drunk and was used to being a hero. However, when you were finally done and stood up, you were faced with the most sought-after man of the Arts department.

“Are you… okay?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth and you had no real energy to be all that embarrassed. Vomiting took all the life out of you almost every time.

You simply turned back to look at the mess you made and cringed, “Oh shit.” You spoke slowly, “I should clean that up.” You sputtered.

Jimin merely smiled and shook his head as you turned back to him, “It’s an alleyway, come on, someone will just make a worse mess in an hour.” He handed you a water bottle, “Go ahead and rinse.” You looked at him with pleading eyes, his looks were more than enough to make you feel flustered. He seemed to read your eyes as he turned around.

“Thanks.” You spoke up after you rinsed, “But-”

“Let me drive you home.” He waited to hear your footsteps behind him before pressing onward.

He ignored your protests the whole way to his car, brushing them off with a wave of his hands. You had figured it was just him being cool, but the reality was that he was mentally hyping himself up. Now with his anger at Yoora and your date dissipated, he was back to a bumbling mess when it came to you, even if the nagging worry of what could have happened to you to make you throw up at yelling was an ever-present weight he took on his shoulders. The girl of his dream would be in his car, sitting right next to him, and that was enough to make him short-circuit. His face was getting redder and redder just thinking about it. Not that your polite and melodic voice insisting you can just take the bus helped any. Surely you had to know how beautiful you were? He never doubted you knew until today, and the notion made him frown but also, thankfully, calm down.

By the time he opened the door for you, any hints of redness on his face were obscured by the cloak of night over the sky and the dim street lamps. You gave him a short smile and he had to fight a squeal in his throat. Instead, you were met with a strained look, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he even liked you or if he was just being kind. You entered your address on his phone and he feigned looking at the route as if he wasn't familiar with the area. He then texted one of his housemates a name and a license plate number for information and wordlessly began driving.

You simply looked out the window as he seemingly studied his phone, not wanting to make his possible dislike of you worse. Although, you would prefer him not to like you at this point. You were kind of over people “liking” you by now. Jihoon had done no less than confess his undying love for you mid-orgasm and you were ashamed to admit how excited that had made you feel despite the emptiness that could be felt in the air. You had convinced yourself that could just be how love felt. How would you know any otherwise? Part of you knew you were deluding yourself, even if you would never know what love felt like, you knew it wouldn’t feel like that. It wouldn’t feel like the bittersweet taste of settling for less than you deserve in exchange for an escape from the all-consuming loneliness that surrounded you no matter who you hooked up with.

“I’m, uh, sorry Yoora did that to you. Jimin blurted out, making you look to him and making him clench the wheel.

“It’s not your fault.” You reassured him, “The whole point of the date was to see if this guy actually ‘loved’ me, or even liked me for that matter.” You couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “That post nut clarity must have made him realize he’s a huge liar.” You couldn’t hide the bitterness in your words before you took a breath, “So, how much did you hear?”

“I walked out when I heard her calling you fat.” He stumbled against the words, clearly uncomfortable even repeating Yoora.

You hummed, “Yeah, well, I guess you’re all caught up.” You looked back out the window and Jimin could relax ever so slightly, “I don’t know how I can make her feel threatened. She’s so… loveable.” He frowned at this, “I know I’m pretty, but that doesn’t make me loveable.” He wanted so desperately to say you are loveable. If you weren’t, what had he spent the last year doing? He wanted to slam on the breaks and finally tell you how captivating you are in more ways than one, but the fear of misstepping caged him into his spot as you continued on, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one is obligated to love me.” You seemed to be letting all the exhaustion hit you, not even bothering to stop yourself, “It’s okay. I have the next best thing, sex.” Even you seemed to be unconvinced, “Maybe if I ask everyone for sex I’ll feel as content as Jihoon.” You seemed to be getting more and more upset as you dwelled on the topic.

“Why haven’t you asked me for sex then?” Jimin wanted to slam his head on the wheel and call it a night when he heard his voice speak what should have been an offhand thought.

You giggled a bit at this, relieving Jimin a bit, before shrugging, “I don’t want to use you like I let people use me.” You blew a breath, "You called my bluff. I don't wanna use anyone."

“Why do you let-”

“I, too, get horny and lonely.” You laughed bitterly, “People just lie to me that it’s something more when it’s not. Thank goodness I’m a psych major, or else I might believe them each time.” Judging by the melancholy in your words, Jimin doubted you didn’t not believe some of them, and the notion tore his heart in half. However, he was so pinned down by his fear, he couldn’t conjure the words needed.

“I mean, there are people out there who would like you and not just your body.” He spoke and he swore he was breaking a sweat by now.

You shrugged again, unconvinced again, “I’m glad you never asked me for sex.” You murmured and he glanced at you.

“Why?” Was he not your type?

“Because I think you’re a good person,” You gave him one more smile as he pulled up to your apartment complex, “and I’d like to keep thinking that.” You placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Thank you, for everything tonight.” He merely nodded in acknowledgment, throat strangled with a million emotions as he watched you go into your apartment.

Jimin let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and drove, as if on autopilot, and let his head plop lightly on the wheel, “Pathetic display, Jimin.” He scolded with a strained voice. He hated this about him. He hated that each time emotions got too real, each time he could not hide behind a charming smile and playful banter, he would choke up. He had been a dance prodigy since birth, since getting scouted by a private school, since Mona adopted him for his career to go even further. And yet, he couldn’t confess to the girl he’s liked for over a year. Instead of staring, he wished he had just asked if you were okay.

He had never imagined you would be nearly as lonely as you felt. Anyone on campus would look at your smile and assume you were doing peachy, but by now, with his observations, he could see when you were faking. Why had he never approached you more to make you smile for real? Why did he remain complicit in fuckers like Jihoon and Yoora’s plight to make you feel less than the perfect girl you are? Who had instilled such an intense reaction to yelling in you? How many times have you thrown up in an alley alone because of the people who knew how to use someone as caring as you? Maybe if he had sat down and eaten that cookie with you, he would be driving the both of you home together.

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to do so at this point.

-------

“...Jimin?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts as he looked at you, all dolled up and a little sweating from performing your final for the class he was your TA for, “You still here?” You giggled as you waved your hand in front of his eyes. You had been the last one to perform, so you figured his brain was fried from watching dozens of dance performances.

His smile grew with yours as he caught your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, “Yeah, I’m here, just got swept away in your performance is all.” He responded cooly and you rolled your eyes mockingly, “I’m serious, it was beautiful.” He brought your hand up, placing a kiss on your palm.

“Well, I had a wonderful training buddy.” You interlocked your fingers behind his neck as he laced his fingers on the small of your back. The PDA made you feel giddy, like a girl in her first relationship showcasing her wonderful boyfriend to the world, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He studied your face, your form, your everything for a moment. He basked in the glory of having someone as beautiful as you within his reach at long last. He thought back to each practice session and each kiss that came with it and couldn’t help the glee that spread in his chest. The glee was only further amplified by the very emotion on your face and he couldn’t fathom how he ever lived with himself seeing a fake smile on your face most days.

“You know I love you, right?” He blurted, making both of your eyes widen. Had he seriously just done that? Had he seriously confessed his love to you while the rest of your dance class waited to be dismissed? The air was still before he spoke again, “Could you do me a favor and beat the shit out of me?” He asked, making you giggle. Your joy was contagious and he found himself laughing too, in spite of the millions of emotions at confessing his love so suddenly.

You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips even if you tried. There was something so weightless about Jimin’s love, yet so meaningful. Where Yoongi had been intense and passionate, Jimin was bashful yet honest. It was this floaty feeling that made you lean up to his ears and whisper, “I love you too.” You beamed at him with a genuine smile and his heart soared.

“You do?” He asked excitedly, “You don’t have to, you know?” He reassured you and you could only chuckle.

“Oh well, if I don’t have to…” You joked as you moved to pull away from him, but he pulled you closer.

“I take it back- You have to.” He hurriedly spoke, “If… If you mean it.”

You nodded, a blissful smile on your face as you leaned up to kiss him, “I mean it, and it’s really nice being able to know you mean it too.” You whispered in his ear and in a moment of pure joy, he lifted you and spun you around, not caring about who saw or stared. You squealed at this, enjoying the moment of careless affection. He set you down with a slow kiss and you couldn’t help but melt into his form.

“You ready to go home?” He asked with a gleeful tone. You nodded excitedly and watched with hearts in your eyes as he dismissed the class with his hand in yours. He was always happy to display your relationship, even telling the professor in case he didn’t want Jimin grading your work. He announced it to the class with a blissful look and posted you all over any and all social media accounts he had. He had never been more proud to have someone by his side, and it made you emotional more than once. He held your hand in his as you walked to the car, swinging your arms just to hear your melodic laugh.

You checked your phone as Jimin closed the car door when you got in, “Oh, Hobi’s flight got delayed until tomorrow and Jin has to stay late tonight.” You mumbled, deep in thought for a moment, “And everyone else has something going on, so I guess it’s just me and you for dinner. One last night of freedom before you have to be busy too.” He placed a hand on your thigh as he drove and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have to mentally hype himself up to do it each time.

“Do you want to pick up dinner or just cook at home?” He asked cooly, masking his sheer glee at the domestic implications in his question.

You hummed, “I can cook something if you want,” You noted before a mischievous smile grew on your face, “My love.” You teased the pet name, making Jimin brake abruptly as he was getting out of the parking spot, his arm holding your body back from pushing forward. You gasped before you dissolved into laughter.

“Hey! Are you trying to make me crash?!” His face was beet red as he lectured you about car safety and how words can shake his whole world the whole ride home, and you had never been more enchanted by a flustered lecture in your life.

Eventually, he was finished lecturing you and the car was filled with laughter and light quips. He wondered how he ever lasted this long without you by his side, but he was glad he would no longer have to.

Tip Jar

[buckybarnesdiaries]

white wolf: “the show must go on”

first part — second part

third part — fourth part (soon)

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you're the author lemme know your @.

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it’s a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 1'9k.

warnings/tags: none. bucky being so innocent gives me life. + he being so damn cute as always.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Have plans with your girl tonight?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, putting down the weight to the holder, not turning to Sam still doing squats and an awkward noise out of breath. His partner couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and giggle while shaking his head, fast enough to steal the soldier's clean towel before he reached it.

“She's not my girl”.

“Not yet, you mean, uh?” He joked then, using the clothing like a whip to hit the metal arm. “But, you have plans or not?”

“Yeah, we have plans”. Bucky admitted eventually, glancing at Sam also stealing his bottle of water. “She invited me to watch a movie”.

It was the innocent and unworried tone of voice from him that made Sam choke, cough, and laugh at once.

“What?”

“Oh, man… Can't believe you're sinful enough to do what we do but too innocent to not see what that means”.

“It means we're gonna watch a movie”.

Bucky was confused at the laughter, trying to understand what he was referring to as he rested his back against the wall and crossed both arms over his chest. Expecting anything else from his wise friend.

“This is the twenty-first century, you ancient. We don't watch movies”.

“What d— What do you mean? You have Netflix, HBO, Prime Video… What's the point?”

Sam was deadpanned, staring in silence at the soldier, not believing what his ears were hearing. “We, guys, don't watch movies with girls, even less when they are the ones inviting us”.

Bucky squinted at him, tilting his head like a lost poppy would do, not being able to read between lines. His partner gasped exasperated, running a hand up and down his face.

“You know, man? Sometimes I feel alone, not having anyone to laugh with about that forties' manners of yours. Should I call Sarah, maybe?”

“Cut the show”. He hissed standing up and passing him away.

“Oh, no, no, no… the show has just started, man, and I have my popcorn ready”.

Bucky had been beating around the bush the whole day, trying to let it out of his mind. Of course, it was something that would happen sooner or later, and —more than of course— he wanted it to happen. The mere fact of thinking about you and him, flesh against flesh, hearing you moaning his name and making you feel good caused him goosebumps and an awkward sensation beneath his black jeans. Suddenly, swallowing saliva turned impossible, biting his lower lip while ringing the intercom of your apartment. Your response didn't last more than a couple of seconds, opening the door downstairs and waiting for him at the entrance of your apartment.

The butterflies fluttered within your bellies when Bucky stepped out of the lift, showing you that charming smile that could make you kill anyone who dared to erase it from his face.

“Trying to get me drunk?” You joked as he raised the bottle of red wine in his left hand.

“Maybe?”

“Missed you today”. You whispered at the soft kiss on your lips and his arm getting wrapped around your lower waist.

“So did I”. He sighed, sounding a little tired, caressing your nose with his.

Yesterday he talked to you about a routine medical check-up the government used to do every six months until he earned his pardon. Four hours of intense exercise to make sure the supersoldier serum was still doing its effect, as he started to feel somewhat tired since he stayed in Wakanda. For Bucky, it was really easy to open up himself with you and talk about his past and some of the things he did. And he didn't complain when you helped him to take off his leather jacket, watching him rubbing his left shoulder.

“I, uh… also was this morning with Sam. Training”. He told you, following you to your kitchen to find a couple of glasses. Turning at him, you couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Don't look at me like that… I know to perfection what you're thinking”.

“You're a telepath now?”

“God, no. I have enough with the voices inside my head, to hear someone's else”. He chuckled resting against the fridge. “But you're very expressive and I was trained to read body language”.

“So, what am' thinking?” You asked driven by curiosity, entertained on opening the bottle of wine.

“Look at this guy… He looks hotter than a barbecue”.

You broke into a loud laugh, shaking your head as you grabbed the drink and the glasses. “Not even close, Sergeant”.

“Liar”. He blurted into your face, passing him away to the living room where the Thai takeaway was waiting for the two of you.

“I'm not lying! You're a lousy body reader”.

“So… you can do it better, uh?”

“Didn't say so, but… yeah”. You replied, placing the wine and the glasses on the coffee table next to the big green sofa.

“Okay, go ahead. What am 'thinking, genius?”

Standing in front of him, some inches away, you squinted at his eyes in advance of touring his posture from top to bottom with your orbs.

“Look at that girl… she's hotter than a volcano”.

“Not even closer, soldier”. Bucky repeated your words, kissing his teeth and causing you to laugh again.

“Liar”.

The night went on, enjoying your dinner and watching the first part of Scary Movie. Since Bucky told you that he loved the horror genre, you thought that it'd be a good start. As you finished the Thai dishes, you two cuddled on your sofa, and it felt nice to be embraced by his muscly arms and had your head rested on his shoulder. He had never been that happier before, imagining for a moment —staring at you by the corner of his eyes— that he wasn't a retired lethal assassin controlled by a bunch of psychos, just a guy watching a movie with his girl.

For some reason that increased his pulse, having to clear his throat as the thought dried it. You couldn't let it go, wrinkling your nose with curiosity, raising your face slightly at Bucky trying to focus on the movie, and pretending everything was going okay.

“What?” He murmured about to laugh nervously, putting his head back a couple of inches to look better at you.

“Seems like you're gonna have a heart attack, what's the matter?”

The soldier breathed heavily through his nostril, expelling all the air in a sight through his parted lips. A lower giggle escaped them as your eyes widened a little more interested in his response to your question.

“Sam… Sam said something this morning”.

There it was. Your grimace turned skeptical, sitting up to borrow the control remote and pause the movie. Turning to face him and placing an arm on the headrest, you puckered your lips in a funny gesture watching him click his tongue.

“Things are different nowadays and… y'know, we used to watch movies”.

“And that's what we're doing”.

“Yeah, but… it's like… now there are some kinds of non-speak social rules”.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and seeing him somewhat troubled and tense just made your heart melt. It wasn't that he was scared, but it almost felt like.

“Is it your first time since the forties?” You dared to ask, clearly with no intentions of making fun of him.

“I've never really… y'know, I was in my twenties when I left Brooklyn. I me— mean, 'm not stupid, okay? I've done things but not… sex like… to the whole point”. Bucky didn't have his eyes on you when he made that confession, rubbing the bridge of his nose by inertia as his nervousness increased. “And now everything… is pretty different”.

“It doesn't have to”. You just replied, stretching a hand to his right one to intertwine your fingers. “Listen, Buck… We don't have to, okay? We don't have to do anything if you're not ready. We can watch the movie and then… you can go, or you can stay to sleep with me”.

“I'd like that”.

“Leave?”

“Yeah, totally, if you excuse me, ma'am… I gotta leave” He clearly joked, about to stand up until you pushed him down to the sofa bursting in laughter. “Nah, I, uh… I mean, I'd like to sleep with you tonight”.

“I'd like too, and to wake up tomorrow morning with you”.

“Yeah, would be very awkward if you go to sleep with me and wake up with another guy in your bed”.

Bucky smirked at you, biting his upper lip before leaning to press both on yours. He couldn't believe you were being so comprehensive with him, not making any other uncomfortable questions, nor kicking his ass out of your house. At that moment, he realized he was madly in love with you, bringing you closer to himself so he could embrace you tenderly between his arms. And you let him, not wanting anything else than to be with him.

At the moment the movie finished, you both stretched your hands to the ceiling with a yawn opening your mouths. You palmed his thigh to beckoning at him, urging the soldier to follow you as you rubbed your eyes using your knuckles, a little sleepy. Turning off the lights on your way to your room, you changed your clothes for a baggy Iron Maiden's t-shirt, as he stripped himself leaving his clothes on the chair in front of your bed, only wearing a pair of black boxers at the end.

You were about to ask him which side he preferred when the words died on your tongue, glancing at him with his flesh hand over his dark grey shoulder. It was the first time you saw the vibranium arm in all its glory and Bucky gave you the impression of being embarrassed. He'd never stop surprising you with plenty of emotions for things that for you didn't have any importance actually —like the fact of not having two real arms.

“Come here”. You murmured, kneeling on the mattress and palming the other lateral, observing every one of his actions till lying next to him, in the middle of the gloom of your room.

Covering both of you with the sheets and turning on your sides to face each other, Bucky took the initiative of wrapping you close to his chest, as he placed his head on your pillow. He couldn't help but take a soft breath from your heavenly smell impregnated in, provoking a smile to grow on your lips. Surrounding his neck with your arms, you sunk your fingers in his short hair, gently caressing his scalp while you started to spread tender short kisses all around his face.

“This feels good”. He purred with such a pleased tone of voice, closing his eyes as he adventured his warm hand under your shirt to draw invisible patterns on your back.

“So good”. You affirmed, peppering his cheek with a bunch of noisy smooches.

Bucky squeezed you between his grip, hiding his face into the gap of your shoulder and neck, causing you goosebumps because of his exhalation against your skin. He was comfortable being that close, with no distance separating your chests and your legs intertwined in a bundle. You saw how relaxed he was when he pulled his head back to the pillow, noses touching and his eyelids closed.

“Good night, Buck”. You whispered, still feeling his caresses on your back, leaning to kiss him one last time.

“Good night, doll”.

a / n: i hope you have enjoyed the fluffiness of these three chapters because the fourth is gonna be... chaotic.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

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[rwprincess]

Head Over Feet (Brian Johnson x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.8k

Synopsis: What’s that sound? It’s another anachronistic Brian Johnson songfic! (Based on Alanis Morissette’s Head Over Feet) You’re one of Bender’s trash-punk friends and things change drastically when he brings the scrawny brain from detention with him to meet you all. Set up in snippets, your relationship develops with Brian, even if you weren’t really looking for a relationship.

CW: Teenage smoking (including reader), swearing, parental abuse (being being kicked out), sexism, angst and fluff

“This is Johnson,” Bender indicated the boy he brought along to your group’s spot under the bleachers.

“Brian, please.” The kid corrected. You eyed the gangly youth from top to bottom; in his sweater over a crisply-ironed collared shirt and khakis, he definitely didn’t fit in here with you all. You’d be called grungy punks at best. You didn’t think any of you even owned an iron and crisp definitely wasn’t your style. You blew out a puff of smoke, exhaling the nicotine from your lungs and shifted your gaze to Bender, wondering what he was at with this. He wasn’t the best guy, but pranking this preppy little nerd by bringing him down to your hangout? That seemed beneath him.

“You, uh, running some kinda charity here, Bender? We’re not exactly Make-A-Wish material, kid.” Scorch told the blonde dweeb and you snorted at the thought.

“Shut the fuck up,” was all Bender said in response. The rest of the twenty minutes of Brian Johnson standing there was of course, incredibly awkward and it was clear to everyone that he didn’t fit in. But that didn’t stop him from coming back a week later. And again a few days after that. And again and again until, well, that dork had grown on the lot of you. While he didn’t partake in cigarette smoking like most of you, he did take Bender up on his weed on several occasions and was actually really funny while high. He did weirdly spot-on impressions and had a sense of humor that none of your group had anticipated.

And, as much as you would vehemently deny it, you liked him when he was sober, too. He was incredibly smart and helpful and while his jokes were different without marijuana in his system, he could be amusing. That first awkward encounter was back in March, maybe April. But now you spent time with him without the convenience of school pulling you together. Now it was June and you sought to spend time with him, even without the group. Tonight, you were laying in a field not far from the high school, just the two of you. You liked to listen to him ramble on about the constellations and the myths about why they were named as they were. You remembered liking that as a kid, but you didn’t remember most of the stories. You knew you could ask him questions about the actual stars, too. Like, the science of it, and he would know. But you’d rather let him ramble and tackle one subject at a time. Even though he focused more on science and math, he was a pretty good storyteller, and right now that provided you with more of an escape than talking about the chemical composition of a star. When he finished his retelling of Ursa Minor’s story, however, he remained silent and didn’t start up a new piece of lore. After a moment, you looked at him to see what the hold up was, but you just caught his eye as his gaze was already fixed on you. Your heart started pounding in your chest because you knew what was coming.

“You know, we could go on an actual date some time.” Brian suggested, breaking the silence. You closed your eyes, almost wincing at the words. He was generally more subtle than this, but the same idea had been brought up before. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Brian. In general, you did, and in the honest depths of your soul, it was as more than a friend. But, every time it came down to this subject, you panicked. You had never been serious with anyone and the thought of dating was completely foreign to you. You had messed around with some guys before but you never had feelings for them. You didn’t know how to depend on another person, to have an actual relationship with them.

I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You sighed, your eyes still closed. You didn’t know what to tell him. Before, he always left it as more of a hint and it was easier to dodge. Now he was just coming out and saying it. Basically asking you out, so you would actually have to turn him down this time. The terrible thing was, you didn’t really want to. The conscious side of you wanted to agree and go out with him, on a proper date. But your subconscious kicked you into fight or flight mode and if you weren’t in the middle of a field, you might have picked flight and walked away. But that didn’t seem to be an option.

“Look, Johnson. It’s not that easy. Just...don’t waste your time on me.”

“I’m already wasting my time on you.” He pointed out, but when you took a peek at him, he didn’t seem upset about it. He was actually grinning about it. “We’re already wasting our time out here. Or at the library, or under the bleachers… So why not like, a movie theater or dinner, or my house?”

“Oh yeah, your mom would love having me around.” You joked, humorlessly. The smattering of times you had met Brian’s mother hadn’t gone swimmingly. You could read the derision in her voice and knew she did not approve of her good little baby hanging out with a ne’er-do-well like you.

“She’d come around. You’re different once someone actually gets to know you.” He meant it as a compliment, but you took it as your out.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You leapt up, indignantly and he just gaped at you like a fish out of water.

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I swear!” He put his hands up defensively as you looked down at him. “Forget it, I’m sorry.” You had victory, he dropped the subject and your friendship could last another night and you could try to pretend like he wasn’t right, that you two weren’t meant to be something more.

*~~~~*

You treat me like I'm a princess

I'm not used to liking that

You ask how my day was

For the most part, working at Bert’s auto shop felt worthwhile and valuable. Other days, it chewed you up and spit you out. It was hard being in such a masculine environment and not fitting into that type. Customers (mostly men, but even the women too) thought that you were less knowledgeable and handy than your cohorts. Bender’s teasing didn’t help that image, either.

Now you slid into the booth at Gino’s pizzeria utterly deflated and defeated. Of course, Brian took notice right away. “Rough day?” He inquired, pushing a menu towards you even though he knew you ordered the same thing every time.

“That’s not even the half of it. Why does Bender hafta be such a dick all the time?!” You asked, incredulously but sincerely, diving right into your problem.

“I don’t know. I think he thinks it’s part of his charm? Maybe it is. I mean, we’re still friends with him.” You nodded at his point, but clenched your fists just the same.

“I just wish he knew when to back off sometimes. Like, he never realizes he’s taking it too far and digging you further into a shithole.”

“What did he do this time?” Brian’s gaze on you was unbroken; it made you feel important, like your opinion, your story, was the only thing that mattered.

“So we got this old guy in the shop today. Beautiful car, so of course he was hesitant with me touching it.” You began and his eyebrows furrowed, already not liking the direction this was going. “And I’m trying to prove myself worthy to work on this car, even though I would just be doing an oil change, which isn’t like a big deal anyway, right? Simple stuff.” You looked to him to get acknowledgement to move forward.

“I mean, I guess. I don’t really know about oil changes or anything about cars. But I know you do.”

“Right, so Bender has to go and make a crack to the old guy about how they won’t let me near it and I’m just the secretary for the shop or whatever. Just a total dick move. But of course the guy believed him and laughed with him and sent me to go get him a cup of coffee? I mean, what the hell is that?”

“That’s not right. And you wear a mechanic’s uniform at work, why would he think--?”

“Because macho man Bender told him I was! He was more believable than me.” You sank back and put a hand up to brace your forehead as the waitress approached the table. You prepared to order your drink when she set down exactly what you would have ordered in front of you and walked away, promising to come back in a few minutes. You blinked at the cup as if it magically had appeared.

“I uh, figured you’d get the usual and you’d need it when you got here, so I ordered for you. I hope that’s okay.” Brian said and then looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the idea. Since he wasn’t looking at you anyway, you allowed your lips to twitch up into a smile threatening to break out on your face...but only for a moment.

“Yeah, whatever. So anyway, Bender…” you carried on, pretending nothing happened, but secretly cataloguing his gesture in your memory.

*~~~~*

The only thing worse than arguing with Brian or him pissing you off was him making you laugh. There were times that you would go home with sore sides and itchy eyes from the tears that formed while laughing so hard. Then you would always, always reflect on the hours you just spent together, feeling the warmth and butterflies tickle your insides and a nervous heat would prickle your skin as you thought about how happy Brian made you. He never pushed you to do anything; he liked you the way you were. Sure, he would drop hints here and there about how you should stop smoking or give you advice when you had a particularly bad argument with one of your friends, but overall, he just accepted you. And you knew how hard that was to find.

You had never been popular and when junior high rolled around, you accepted that you never would be. You found your own little group of outcasts who understood what it was like to be kicked down time and again, and now he had somehow joined that group too. You knew he understood how it felt. Even though he looked different and came from a very different social circle, he had been looked down upon by his peers all his life. You were guilty of judging him the same way when you first met him, but now you couldn’t imagine life without him. He was cut of the same cloth and you could see yourself in him, which is why you just clicked. And he was so kind and so patient with you. You tried to push him away dozens of times, to put up the barriers and the walls that worked so well for everyone that came before him; you couldn’t be hurt if you never got attached. Where most people gave up and only saw the cold, distant bitch you gave them, Brian always saw something more. He didn’t give up in breaking down those walls, and even accepted just being your friend. That made you love him even more.

Shit, wait. Did you just think about loving Brian? A crush is one thing. Having a buddy to fool around with is one thing. Being in love was quite another.

You've already won me over in spite of me

Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

*~~~~*

Mercedes Johnson was all about keeping up appearances, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hear her arguing with Brian on the other side of the door, about you. Again. You had known from the second you met her that she didn’t like you. She was instantly worried about the influence you’d have on her son; it was a common reaction from parents based on the way you looked and the company you kept. You would think you’d be used to it by now.

However, it truthfully bothered you more because this was Brian’s mother. You were hoping that she would be different and see the person underneath like her son had, or at the very least, that she would eventually warm up to you. You had no luck with either.

“I’m not comfortable with having her over at the house right now.” You could hear her tell Brian.

“She’s my friend, ma. Of course she’s going to come over--”

“I’m aware of that but you know I wish she weren’t. I would prefer that you keep the company of other friends.” The formality of her sentences while she was still cruelly putting you both down made you cringe.

“You don’t know her because you won’t give her a chance. She’s not that different from my other friends.”

“You have friends in the Physics Club, from Knowledge Bowl, Honor Students. You don’t need the association with a hoodlum like that or John Bender and I don’t know why you keep insisting on bringing them into my home when I have repeatedly told you no. I don’t want them around your sister, or even you!”

“Fine. Then we’ll leave.” You heard the door swing open harshly and Brian was motioning for you to follow him out of the house.

“Brian Ralph Johnson!” You heard his mother cry after the two of you. Brian held open the front door for you and you looked at him cautiously before rushing out. You knew you weren’t wanted there, but you were worried that he wouldn’t come with you. You were even more worried that he would. “You are not leaving this house.” Mercedes put on the most intimidating tone you had witnessed her use.

“No, I am. We are. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t bother coming back tonight if you walk out of this house!” She was now pink-faced and losing all of the reserved, polished look you had seen her have. She had never been so...uncomposed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Brian said and grabbed you by the elbow as he escorted you down the driveway to your car. He immediately got into the passenger seat and as you sunk behind the steering wheel, you glanced at him.

“Brian, this is stupid. You don’t have to---you shouldn’t do this.” The whole situation reminded you of the many times you had been kicked out of your house. This was just another home you weren’t welcome in.

He clenched his jaw in response. “Let’s just go. I’ll figure it out later. Please, just drive.”

Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You're so much braver than I gave you credit for

That's not lip service

“Your mom gave you a choice, you know. It’s not like she told you to get out. She actually told you not to leave.” You said as you both sat on the trunk of your car, looking out across the field that was slowly turning to a golden hue, both from the afternoon sun and the change into autumn. Neither of your houses were really an option to go to, so you just chose the empty field that you would look at stars in during the summer.

“It’s not like it was really a choice though, was it? I’m tired of her trying to control every part of my life. I need to start thinking for myself, doing things for myself. She needs to understand that I’m going to do what I want, and like who I want to like.” He looked at you meaningfully for a moment, but you looked away quickly. It was too heavy for you to process right now.

“That’s a big step. I’m really impressed with you for standing up for yourself.” You told him, and he gave you an appreciative, heart-stopping smile in return that caused your cheeks to flush. Your parents had shouted at you to leave so many times before, any time you were ‘inconvenient’ for them, that it was hard to relate to someone who chose not to stay. But you wanted to support him and you did feel proud of him today. You thought back to the most recent event in which you had been dismissed from your family, and how you had tried to take it out on Brian:

You slammed your locker and watched him almost jump out of his skin. “I don’t want to talk about this.” You growled at Brian.

“I understand that, but you need to. You can’t just--”

“Just what?”

“You can’t just act like nothing happened or run away from it...run away from here.” You had been disciplined at school yet again and your parents had had enough. You had a big fight with them the night prior and did not sleep in your own bed. The tiredness racked your body today and you were stiff from sleeping in your car. If it weren’t for the social aspect, you wouldn’t have bothered coming to school. But you quickly realized you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone, and you were only making the situation worse.

“Like hell I can’t.” You stated, quickly turning to walk away.

“Y/N, don’t. Come on, talk to me. Tell me what happened. We can figure it out together.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, bucko. I’ll be fine. I’ll do this on my own. I’m used to that anyway.”

“But you don’t have to be alone, Y/N. That’s what I’m saying! That’s my whole point: I’m here for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to be, Brian.”

“No, because friends don’t have to ask.” His words scared you. Nobody had so adamantly offered to be a safety net to you before.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “we’re great friends. We’ve bonded so much in the, what, four months you’ve known me?” You rolled your eyes, trying to make him feel uncomfortable, to drive a wedge between you. You only knew how to put up walls, how to run.

“You know we are.”

“Yeah, sure, right. Friends. Not like you want to sleep with me or anything.” You tried to drive another knife into him, to play it off like he was following you only because he had a crush on you, one you tried to pretend wasn’t reciprocated. “It’s not going to happen, Brian. So just accept that we’re not friends.”

He let you get about three steps away before you heard him say, “No. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work. Sure, part of me wants something more, but...I care about you, Y/N. And if we can just be friends, I am happy with that, I swear. But don’t do this to me. Don’t try to shut me out or walk away or act like you’re fine. I know you well enough to know you’re not.” When you turned around, you could see that he had tears rimming his eyes, threatening to fall, which made your own tears spring up as well. “I am your friend. I’m not going to just let you go and do something stupid. You are going to talk about this. If not to me, then someone else. But you can’t just run away or sleep in your car or, or…”

“Okay.” You said, softly.

“Okay?”

“Fine, let’s talk about it. I screwed up again and my parents kicked me out. So what do I do?”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I...we’ll think of something.” He began to tell you, but you bit your lip and drowned him out in your own sobs. Everything crashed in on you at once; you hadn’t escaped in time. You slid down your locker wall and sat on the floor. Brian joined you and put his arm around you tentatively.

You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

After that day, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You tried your best to brush him off, to hurt him, to land irreparable blows. But it was all in vain; he stuck by you. You admired how he stood up for you, for your relationship, whatever that meant. He didn’t back down, even though you knew he genuinely cared what you thought. He was willing to put everything on the line just to be with you, in whatever capacity you would allot him. And today, he had chosen you again. He had picked a fight with his mother and chosen you. He placed you above being safe and comfortable and at home right now.

“I’m sorry, this must seem so stupid to be complaining about. I know I don’t have it that bad, it’s just that--”

“No, your problems are valid, too. Your mom sucks.” You told him and he laughed, “But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t...weird to have someone be given the choice to stay instead of being yelled at to get out and that you’re worthless and---I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make this about me.” You said softly, looking down at your hands.

“No, I get it. It’s gotta be on your mind a lot, the uncertainty. Plus, I don’t mind talking about you.” He nudged your shoulder with his own, trying to be playful but you knew he meant that. He always put you first. You couldn’t help your next impulse as your hand shot up to cup his face and you leaned in and kissed him roughly. You weren’t entirely sure why you had done it. It would probably change everything and you couldn’t tell if you were doing it selfishly to feel like someone cared or to keep him around or because you truly wanted to. Of course, he kissed you back, and the feeling it gave you pushed a lot of those doubts from your mind.

You're the best listener that I've ever met

You're my best friend

Best friend with benefits

What took me so long?

*~~~~*

The kiss in the field still didn’t mean you were “together.” Realistically, it complicated things for a while. You avoided Brian for a couple of days and didn’t discuss it when you finally caved in to your desire to see him. He didn’t bring it up either, even though there were many times he would look at your lips like he wanted to make a move again, but you never talked about it. Things began to look “normal” after about two weeks. You spent time at the record shop, or under the bleachers with your friends or in the library with his friends. He nagged you about giving up smoking and you finally listened, much to his surprise.

“What made you finally decide to quit?” He asked, looking at the nicotine patch on your arm. You shrugged, not wanting to tell him the truth.

“I guess I just finally got tired of you being a broken record, mother hen.” You teased him, but he just smiled because he was happy with your choice. The truth of the matter was, you had done it for him. While you weren’t with him, you wanted to be. You didn’t want to keep doing something that bothered him so much, but you also knew that eventually, your habit of smoking would cost time with him and you didn’t want that. You lied to yourself that you didn’t want a relationship and weren’t thinking about a future with Brian, but you were. Every time he helped you study or encouraged you to do your best, the time your parents were out of town so he had made you his “specialty” of spaghetti in your kitchen, when you drove him around singing songs together on the radio...you thought about doing those things with him forever and instead of the fear you used to feel at such a thought, you felt happiness. You anticipated a future with him, something to look forward to.

I've never felt this healthy before

I've never wanted something rational

I am aware now

I am aware now

*~~~~*

“It’s kind of weird, yeah. But they’re cute together, I guess.” You had just returned from a movie with Bender and Claire. You were surprised at how long their relationship had lasted, especially since you had hated Claire at first. You assumed she was dating Bender as a statement, but it had been over six months and they were still together and it just seemed to work.

“It must be nice to have someone like that. Even if they don’t make sense, they care about each other. It just must be a nice thing to have a relationship like that.” Brian looked at you for a moment before backpedaling, realizing he must have made it sound like he was guilt-tripping you. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you out again. I really just was complimenting them--”

“Well, maybe you should.” You cut him off.

You realized how rare a find like Brian truly was. He always put you before himself; he listened to all of your problems and knew when to offer solutions and when to just listen. He was endlessly supportive, and kind. He kept taking giant risks just to be with you, to show you that you mattered to him. You knew, without him saying it, that he loved you. Why else would someone go to the lengths he did, just to make you happy? You had tried everything to shake him, to get rid of him so neither one of you would be in too deep to get hurt. But he stayed, and now, you wouldn’t want him to go anyway. It was too late; you were both already in too deep.

He just blinked at you, sure he had heard incorrectly. “Wh-what?”

“I said, maybe you should. Ask me out again.”

“Y/N, do you want to go out with me?” He asked, unsure. It felt like a setup, but he knew you wouldn’t do something so cruel to him.

“Yes.” You replied, softly.

“Why?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I don’t know. I guess you won me over.” You chuckled, but he failed to see the humor in it, so you changed to a more serious tone. “Brian, I thought that these feelings would go away, that you would go away. Lord knows how hard I’ve tried to push you. But...you didn’t and the feelings didn’t. I-I love you. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to keep loving you, I don’t want to waste my time with anyone else. And...And I think that you love me.”

“I do.” He breathed quietly, with zero hesitation.

“So, why fight it any more? I was afraid that I would hurt you, but I think I’ve already done that and you’ve stuck around.” He nodded in confirmation of that fact. “And I was scared that I would get hurt but...but I’ve realized that you won’t do that to me, either.”

You've already won me over in spite of me

Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

He took your hands in his, “You’re serious? You really want this? Because, you know how I feel. How I’ve always felt.” You nodded in response, tears quickly filling your eyes, which was a rarity for you. He leaned in towards you to kiss you, for the first time since your conversation in the field over a month ago. He waited for you to be ready in every aspect of your relationship and you had never known so much love and respect before. It took some adjusting to, but he had pulled you in and made you fall for him again and again.

Just gonna tag my buddy...

@90sinequity

[megthemewlingquim]

someone new.

summary: there's an art to life's distractions.

pairing: eventual hades! loki x persephone! reader

warnings: implied smut, alcohol consumption

a/n: here it is, the first part of foreigner's god. as said in this fic's masterlist, these will not be chapters, but rather short stories and one shots that can be read separately or as one whole piece. it's up to you.

i plan to base each part off of one or two hozier songs. this is inspired by "someone new".

is there a right way to fall in love?

    that’s what loki asks himself every day — well, every night — when he spends his free time at bars and gatherings. populated widely with fellow gods, goddesses, and spirits of many colors and passions; these bars are perfect places to find someone new.

    being the god of death, however, puts loki at a bit of a disadvantage. yes, the stereotypes are, unfortunately, true. loki is dark, a little antisocial, and very quiet. beautiful in appearance — death is seductive, at least to the willing.

    ‘the willing’ being many a spirit, many a dryad or goddess or creature who wants bragging rights, or a little nightly thrill. ‘that’s right,’ they say, ‘i had a little dance with death last night.’

loki doesn’t mind the mornings when his temporary partners talk about the nights, but he always cringes when they mention that accursed french phrase — la petite mort. it’s a joke to them. a mockery.

   yet, they stay, and sometimes, they come back for another little death.

    the spirits and goddesses never make a big impact on him. he is with one for a night, then another for a night, and so on. he falls in love every day with someone new and it’s a bore. a bore and a drag.

    dark caresses don’t do much to numb the pain: the pain of loneliness and solitude. the ache in his heart is constant, tearing at his mind whenever it can. alcohol can't do much either — all gods have a very high tolerance. mead was made for them.

   so loki is left with no escape besides those that come from the willing. little deaths. they make him feel loved.

   no...

   no one loves death. some crave him. but they don't love him.

   that’s the common theme running through loki’s head every time he takes someone home with him, or goes upstairs with them to the top floors of the inns he’s at, where the bedrooms are. it’s a distraction.

   however, the cycle ends when, while pointlessly wandering around his usual bar, he sees someone new one night. you.

   you radiate this... this warmth that he’s never felt before. everyone around you seems to be affected by it too - they don’t treat you as the life of the party, but they do gravitate towards you like birds to a nest. 

    and you’re quite shy, but infectiously happy and cheerful. you’re so beautiful, with your bright eyes that he knows are wide and filled with wonder, and your lovely skin that he knows is so soft. and your smile that he knows is so comforting to all who see it.

   to everyone else, you feel like they’ve just wandered into a happy memory, or a sun-lit room that’s pleasantly warm and golden. you feel familiar. ordinary, but lovely all the same.

   to loki, you feel... feel like something he’s only experienced in dreams. so, really, he’s never felt it before in his immortal life: something warm and alive and... and anticipatory. like there’s new things about to come up to the surface — flowers, new animals, maybe. you give off a sense of... he can’t describe it well. a slow and joyful awakening something.

   and you also feel completely and utterly powerful. unstoppable. he’s terrified of you, and yet he’s drawn to you. you’re so fascinating, strange. not as if you could end the world, no, that’s his own job. but it’s as if you can bring the whole world to life, raise it back up again after the chaos fades.

   you feel like spring. like rebirth. like new life.

   and that’s when it hits him.

   persephone. he’s heard the name passed around before, but before now, he has never seen the face behind the name. something about this sparks some fear in him: how would persephone, goddess of spring, daughter of demeter, react to seeing anyone even remotely like himself?

   for a moment, he’s grateful that you’re not looking at him; you’re actually looking at the table, at the drink you’re sipping. there’s a look on your face that isn’t bored, nor afraid. maybe... observant.

   people are around you still. not crowding, but not interacting with you either. it’s like you have a bubble around you, keeping everyone from getting too close. maybe it’s your doing but maybe it’s theirs. honestly, you’d think that dryads and gods and goddesses and spirits of all forms and colors and subjects would be more accepting.

   he pities you. you seem lonely.

   loki takes a few steps forward, betraying his own fear. like the red sea, the crowd parts. some are bold and unafraid, and they give loki varying looks: disgusted, seductive, snarky. you don’t notice him until he sits down in front of you, at the other end of the table.

   “hi,” he says calmly. he manages a small smile. “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

   your eyes lift to lock with his own. immediately, you recoil just the slightest bit. he knows what you’re thinking: wait, that’s hades! god of death... wh-why is he talking to me?

   “it’s alright,” he soothes. “don’t worry. you’ve probably heard of all the stories: gods kidnapping and doing terrible things to goddesses and spirits and dryads. i’m not here to do any of that. i promise.”

   with a single, somewhat confused blink, you nod. “m-my mother has told me a lot about that stuff,” you say slowly, as if saying anything too revealing will somehow alert demeter and get you in trouble. “she’s... she’s terrified...”

   “what is she terrified of? that those terrible things might happen to you?”

   “yes,” you say. “she’s told me that she’s had nightmares in the past. specifically about you. how you’ll kidnap me and take me to hell to live with you.”

   he laughs at that - a rich, amused laugh that takes the shivers out of you. “that’s bullshit. overprotective mothers, yeah?”

   you shrug. “she loves me.”

   “and are you afraid of me, princess?” the last word is whispered. his voice extremely soft - it’s a curious question.

   he notices how you lick your lips. “no,” you say. he notices how your eyes flick all over him. “no, i’m not.” and you seem truthful.

   “smart girl,” he says with a grin. “i hate liars. there’s not a god on in the world that’s ever been truthful. well, besides jesus. yahweh. whatever you wanna call him.” loki leans back, crossing his hands behind his head and bringing his feet up to the table. “your father, though... he’s the worst of ‘em. having children with other women, including your mother, while hera has to sit by and watch, and then lying about it.”

   “we’re gods,” you say. “i'm not trying to justify things but... we’re far from perfect.”

   “damn right we are. we’re fucked up. good. we can agree on something. most days, people think us gods are... perfect things. role models. and, maybe some are. but not us. not the gods of olympus.”

   he pauses, takes a swig from a beer bottle that was not in his hand a few seconds ago. “i was wondering if you wanted to do what humans do.” loki winces at the awkwardness. “when they're... y'know. interested in someone.”

   “you're interested... in me?” you ask, incredulously.

   “yeah, i am.” one sip of beer has loosened his tongue. or maybe that's just his confidence soaring now. “maybe this hasn't been the best introduction to things but i would love to take you out sometime. show you things.”

   “my —” you swallow. “i'd get in trouble.” you shrink away just a bit.

   his smile fades and it's replaced with a sadder, more sincere look. “the best things in life have risk to them. it's time i show you that.”

   and really, he does feel sorry for you. it's your first time at a bar, you're lonely. no friends as far as he can tell. an overprotective goddess mother.

   “think of it this way. i think you're very pretty and i like your honesty. i would like to help you see the world, and to have a little fun, since your mother has obviously never let you do anything in your very, very long life.”

   “i'm twenty—one.”

   “and now i'm wondering if demeter actually has you tell people that, as if you're a teenage mortal.” loki shakes his head, disappointed. “that's pathetic. you're a bajillion years old. you're a goddess! you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, right?”

   when there's no answer from you, he sighs. leans forward to sit normally, putting both of his elbows on the table and pointing his hands at you. “alright. i'll roll with it for now. you're twenty—one. i guess. you can drink. you can go out alone to bars and other places. you can meet new people. you're an adult. think about that.

   “so, again. i think you're very pretty and i wanna show you around. get to know you. would you like to do that with me?” he raises his eyebrows a little, waiting for a response.

   it's an eternity before you can win a battle in your mind. slowly, you nod, giving him a smile. “yeah,” you whisper. “yeah, i would. thank you.”

   “don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. i haven't shown you anything yet.” he gets up, pushes his chair in.

   before he leaves, he winks at you. “call me loki. it's... not as dreadful... as hades. and... what do i call you?”

   you say your name, your voice quiet.

   “much better than persephone, i think. it suits you. we'll keep in touch, ok?”

   “okay,” you say. butterflies are flying rapidly in your stomach.

   loki leaves you there. he'd much rather take you back to your home himself, but that would be too risky for the time being. for now, he walks out of that bar feeling like the king of the world.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

liar liar

request: I have a request, the reader is dating Spencer, and she and JJ are the ones that know that Emily faked her death. I’m thinking of it taking place in “It Takes A Village,” and she has to deal with Spencer being upset with her, like he was with JJ, but it has a fluff ending? Thanks!

for: @flklrevrmre​

word count: 3,722                                                                                     reading time: 15 mins

a/n: i) if you guys want to be added to my taglist lmk ii) can we all simultaneously fall in love with asa butterfield so i can read more fanfic about him? iii) it’s good to be back ;)

masterlist

You’d think that in a room of profilers they’d be able to recognize the antsy twitches of my ankles and the incessant rubbing of my wrists. Let alone the fact that one of those profilers was someone who knew the inside of my skin better than I did. My staggered breath elicited an involuntary gulp from my esophagus, throwing off my composure.

I pretended to stare at the blank screen of the television in the round table room, dissociating myself from the events to come. Curious murmurs and the shuffling of feet behind me became a chilling tether that reminded me of my circumstances. My breath hitched slightly at the presence of Spencer’s voice, although even the comforting thought of him only aggravated the disquietude bubbling at the bottom of my stomach.

I feel like I’m standing on the precipice of a cliff with the rocks rumbling beneath me. I knew this was a burden, a responsibility that I had to keep for the team--for Emily. I know that I’m not alone on this cliff, but I also know that the weight of this secret was slowly pushing all of us on edge.

-

“Hotch, are you sure you want to do this now?” JJ questioned him with an astonishing look. I tucked my hands into my pockets, leaning against the round table to give his proposition some thought.

“It’s time,” he sighed, lost in his world of thought. “We’ve kept this for months, and Doyle won’t speak about Declan. We need Emily,” he continued, pulling out his phone to ready an alert for the team.

“You don’t think Morgan can get through Doyle without her?” she reasoned.

“No,” he firmly answered, pulling his phone to his ear, and walked out of the room to call Penelope.

JJ shook her head in disapproval, taking a seat on the tabletop behind her. “I don’t know about this Y/N,” she announced, turning her head to gauge my reaction. “I just feel like...it’s too soon,” she expressed.

I chewed on my bottom lip, my mind engulfed by one thing: Spencer.

“What?” I snapped out of my thoughts, JJ’s voice finally registering in my head.

“It’s too soon, don’t you think?” she sought my confidence, but in all honesty, I wasn’t sure either. “I’m sorry, JJ but I don’t know,” I confessed, unable to gather my thoughts, “All I can...all I can think about is Spencer. I know it’s selfish, but…” My voice was caught on my tongue. Although there is a reason for that, I’ve been lying to someone I loved for seven months.

At the mention of Spencer’s name, JJ moved from her position to sit idly next to me. She observed the solemn and grief-stricken expression on my face, reaching over to lay a tender hand on top of mine. “I know,” she reassured.

“But Hotch is right,” I reasoned, “Emily--t-the team--they have the right to know,” I stammered over my words as I took a calming breath, exhaling out my worries. “JJ, he’s going to be devastated.”

“Then...we’ll tell him together,” she justified, a motherly yet comforting air radiating from her.

-

Together. That was the plan.

“Everybody take a seat,” Hotch gestured to the team. He folded his arms together and peered at his colleagues with a stern yet apologetic expression. “Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team.”

Everyone looked around at each other with curious glances. Spencer, on the other hand, turned to me for an explanation. Although when I refused to meet his eyes, it was evident that something serious had occurred.

“As you know, Emily lost a lot of blood in her fight with Doyle,” Hotch lamented, observing the sudden pensive atmosphere of the room. From the corner of my eye, I saw Morgan clench and unclench his fists, empathetic about the guilt that still haunted him. “But the doctors were still able to stabilize her.”

An audible gasp escaped Garcia’s lips, instinctively turning to gauge at Derek’s countenance. But the only emotion present was turmoil. His features had hardened into bewilderment, letting Hotch’s words resonate in his mind. Rossi looked to Hotch while Spencer faced me and JJ. The expression on Spencer’s face was similar to Derek’s, he was in between disbelief and denial. Although what I couldn’t face was his pleading eyes that begged for my confirmation.

“...and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under convert exfiltration,” Hotch continued to explain, receiving pained looks from his peers. “Her identity was strictly need-to-know, and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel.”

“What does...what does this…” Garcia shook her head, stammering.

“She was assigned to Paris and given several identities--none of which we had access to for her security.” Hotch finished.

Morgan scoffed in incredulity, retreating into his mind. Standing up from his chair, he backed away from the table, clasping his hands behind his head. Garcia, frozen in her seat, spoke apprehensively with glassy eyes, “She’s alive?”

My heart broke at the anguished crack in her deliverance, remorse eating up my insides. Spencer’s posture straightened up in his chair, leaning forward to question Hotch’s place in all this. “But...we buried her,” Spencer rebutted in a strained voice.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision,” Hotch nodded at the team, “If anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me.”

“Any issues?” Morgan seethed, “Yeah, I got issues.”

The combined expressions of deception and the troublesome atmosphere was enough of a cue for the individual in question to step out. In all her glory, Emily unveiled herself by the door with a conciliatory frown upon her lips. Her fingers were tethered together, an idiosyncrasy of hers that became apparent at the times of disquiet.

“Did you...you know about this?” Spencer flipped his focus on me and JJ, “Did you both know about this?” he scoffed. The dreaded time finally came, the time of confession. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat tightened up, and my tongue swelled. Regret had tangled me in its inescapable ropes that no noble reasoning would have freed me from my part in this decision.

“Spencer,” Hotch attempted to contend, but Spencer refused to listen.

How was he going to take the news? How could his best friend and his girlfriend lie to him like this?

“Spence,” JJ sighed, “This operation had to be covert for Emily’s sake--and Declan.” By now, everyone’s attention was on me and JJ. I almost couldn’t handle the distraught expression on Morgan’s face as I wasn’t only Spencer’s girlfriend, but his close friend.

How could I have done this? I’ve not only hurt Spencer, but I’ve also hurt the team--my family.

JJ stepped in front of me, brushing a calming hand on my arm. She gave me a reassuring glance, nodding at me to step forward alongside her.

I couldn’t do this.

My stomach curled, and my hands began accumulating sweat.

I can’t.

JJ took a breath, peering at Spencer with regretful eyes. She knew how to get through to him--sometimes better than me. JJ was the shoulder that Spencer could comfortably fall apart on besides me, and I didn’t have the heart to take that away from him. That’s how I knew I had to venture through this alone.

JJ hesitantly opened her mouth to speak, dropping her shoulders in vulnerability, but before the truth can slip past her lips, I interjected. “Wait! um,” I paused, processing the next words that would determine where I stood with Spencer, “I...I was the one that knew,” I muttered through my teeth, knowing that every syllable was a lie. I stepped in front of JJ; averting the attention away from her. “JJ had nothing to do with it. I informed her minutes prior to the meeting.”

Spencer became despondent. His once ardent expression slumped into one that resembled a Tim Burton character, although it was the dejected glare in his eyes that crushed me. Nothing else registered in my head; I knew that I forever scorned him.

With the silence suffocating the room, Hotch called the meeting to end. Everyone wearily stood up from where they were, Garcia instantly leaping onto Emily with numerous inquiries. Spencer didn’t even bother looking back, instead, he paced out of the room, giving Emily a long-awaited hug, and left.

As Emily became occupied with the rest of the team, JJ tugged at the end of my sleeve, pulling aside. “Why...why did you do that?” she questioned, her expression deep in perplexity. “I thought we were supposed to tell him together,” she shook her head, sighing at the sudden deviation from our plan.

“I just,” I took in a breath, “JJ, you know Spencer, and...you know how he gets,” I rationalized. An aching sensation spread across my chest as I recollected the events before, a film casting over my eyes as I justified my decision. “JJ, all I could think about in that meeting was how Spencer would feel afterward,” I croaked, “You and I know he’s already been through too much. I just couldn’t,” I repressed a choked breath. “You and I are the only people he’s okay about being open to, so I couldn’t let him deal with this alone,” I smiled pitifully, a single tear trailing down my cheek, reaching my lips.

“Y/N…” JJ consoled, pulling me into her embrace. I knew that she wanted to say something back--something to combat my reason. But deep down, she understood. I pulled away from her arms, gathering my composure.

“I don’t know where we stand right now,” I bit my lip, shaking my head in sorrow, “JJ, just...just be there for him. Be there for him because I love him.”

-

An agonizing week had passed in the BAU. Emily was reinstated after the team’s hearing at court, the unit dynamic languidly surfaced again, and it seemed like everything was back to normal.

Everything but Spencer.

It’s been eight days and seven nights since he’s slept at our apartment. JJ was generous enough to let him crash with her and Will, which I was appreciative to know that he was at least safe. JJ would give me updates during his stay, reassuring me to have faith and be patient with him. But each night that I spent in a distant bed, every dinner I sat through with an empty bowl opposite from me, and every eerie silence that would suffocate me when arriving home thinned out my perseverance.

Every time that I would reminisce on the warmth of his touch, it tore the remaining strands of my heart. The snarky remarks and malicious glares at work didn’t ease my state of mind either. I was on a cliff again, but this time I was alone.

We were on the jet, working a missing child’s case in New York City. Most of the team surrounded Hotch as he briefed them on the case while I notably sat at the front to evade the disagreeable tension. From time to time, JJ would text me, asking if I were okay. I found the gesture sweet the first few times, but it soon became a remembrance of my reality.

“I need everyone to split into teams,” Hotch announced, making sure that I had heard his statement. “The M.E. will be ready in a few hours, so Dave and Morgan, I need you to go to the morgue. Emily and JJ, I need you to interview a suspect back at the station. Y/N and Spencer, I need both of you to interview the second victim’s family,” Hotch delivered resolutely. However before he could finish, Spencer already had his disputes.

“Hotch, don’t you think I would be more useful in building the geographic profile?” Spencer interjected.

“Reid, I can’t send Y/N alone,” Hotch reinforced.

“Well it seems to me that she’s capable of making big enough decisions, so I think she’ll be fine,” Spencer jeered. “Matter of fact, why don’t we let her interview the suspect instead, since she’s so good at-”

“Reid,” Hotch warned him, sending him a disarming look.

Spencer scoffed, sinking back into his seat, pulling his book up to his face. JJ sent me another text, expressing her condolences about Spencer’s performance, while I sulked in the coldness of my arms.

That’s all Spencer did that week. He pulled away.

-

One. Two. Three rocks surpassed my pacing feet on the sidewalk.

It was the only thing I could force myself to focus on, considering the asphyxiating rigidness between me and Spencer. I was quiet as a mouse with every inhale I took, feeling that even the slightest disturbance would rattle the seemingly innocuous silence. However, despite the invisible barrier between us, Spencer began uttering details about the unsub’s profile.

“I’m thinking that our unsub might be a woman,” Spencer proposed, looking straight ahead of him.

In an attempt to alleviate the atmosphere, I entertained his suspects, “Why do you think so,” I inquired. My breath hitched towards the end of the sentence, sending a small jolt of nerves through my chest.

“Well,” Spencer began, “We can see from the unsub’s methodology that they still nurture the victim--a mother’s instinct--before death. The choice of disposal also indicates cleanliness which we profiled before as a women’s attribute.”

Four. Five. Six rocks.

“That’s true, Spence, but the level of cleanliness doesn’t match the M.O, and the profile points towards a male offender. If it were a female, then that would be one hell of a job to throw off the authorities,” I counteracted, feeling safer in the exchange we shared.

“It could be possible,” Spencer shrugged. “Statistically, women are presumptively better liars than men. They do one hell of a job being deceitful,” He quipped.

Seven. Eig-

My movements stilled at the unforeseen comment, while the same pang in my chest reappeared from before. Despite the wave of self-reproach invading my thoughts, I swallowed my feelings and maintained my professionalism.

“How far is the house from here?” I deadpanned, evading the touchy subject.

“Why don’t you check the coordinates that Hotch sent us. You seem to have a closer relationship to hi-”

“Can you stop?” I exclaimed, stepping out in front of him.  

“Stop what?” He scoffed, refusing to acknowledge my irritation by feigning innocence. He proceeded to project his attention towards the side garden that decorated the sidewalk, observing the various flowers that littered the grounds.  

“This,” I gestured to both of us. “This, this thing that you’re doing. Wh-what are we doing, Spence?”

“You’re acting like you’re not at fault here,” Spencer implicated with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s similar to this unsub’s psyche.”

“That’s not what I meant, Spence.”

“The unsub also didn’t mean to kill the first child so you might have that probability.” He paced off a distance away, leaving me at my lonesome.

“Spencer, can we talk-”

“What if the unsub used a lure to get to the first victim,” Spencer eluded the topic. “Possibly candy or a tactic using the transference of parental authority. Either one would disarm the child.”

I shook my head, playing his little game. “Candy is quite the killer,” I added on, supplementing his theory.

“So are tears,” He quipped. “Hopefully the family can tell us more.”

With that, he ran off once again.

-

In a matter of a week, the unsub had struck again. Unfortunately for the team, our leads had been disproven, and our patience had worn thin. Chagrin had traveled throughout the team rendering us all exhausted. With the additional stress on our shoulders, Spencer’s remarks had intensified and painted a target on my back. Solving this case was the only motivation I had to endure the onslaught of his petty slander; however, my persistence was at the end of its line.

“Spencer, can you pass me a copy of the geographical profile?” I mumbled, running my fingers over my eyelids to wake myself up. I leaned on my elbows, feeling the heat of stress warm up my face. I glanced at Spencer’s movements from my peripheral vision, although my sight proved to be unreliable as Spencer’s face resembled an expression of--what I thought was--worry for a split moment.

Without a reply, Spencer handed me a marker. I looked at Spencer bewildered, glancing between him and the marker that lay in my hand. “What is this?” I deadpanned.

“A marker.”

I bit the inside of my cheek in restraint, retracting my tongue from spitting maliciously. “Yes, I know, Spencer. What is the marker for?” I fumed through my teeth.

“To write with,” Spencer replied shortly, focusing on the file he was analyzing on his lap. I shook my head, rising from my seat to walk over to the whiteboard that Spencer assembled the geographical profile on. I tossed the marker behind me, ridding myself of the negative energy bestowed on the writing utensil.

Before I could set my focus on the board, Spencer pulled me from my concentration with another one of his random probes. “Why aren’t you using the marker?”

“What do you mean?” I sighed, sensing ridicule.

“You’re modifying the profile at one of the points right?”

He looked up from his files, making eye contact with me for the first time in weeks. By reflex, I shifted my gaze away from him, guilt making itself ubiquitous in my conscience. “I’m analyzing one of the points of the profile,” I uttered. “I think our initial impression about the unsub’s disposal area is inexact.

“Is that how you and Hotch figured out Emily’s burial site?”

An ember began swirling inside of my veins, traveling to each corner of my body. I bit my tongue once again, suppressing the build-up of indignation coursing through me. “The location of disposal doesn’t make sense. It’s not even in the area that we triangulated,” I challenged.

“What are you saying?”

“I mean, could it be possible for the unsub to transport the victims to different disposal sites?”

“Like how Emily was transferred from Boston to Bethesda?” Spencer mentioned. “Then yes, the probability of that transpiring is notable” he mocked.

The suppressed spark inside of me aggregated, overpowering the last bit of patience I harbored. The ropes tethering the frayed strands of my rationality snapped, leaving my impulses to burst through the seams. Even my best attempts at subduing myself rendered useless to Spencer’s incessant commentaries. I was done.

“You’re relentless aren’t you?” I jeered, spinning around to face him. Fire laced my veins, and the childish sneer on his face only kindled my resentment.

“Relentless on figuring out this case.” Spencer brushed my comment aside, diverting his attention to the papers on his lap.

In the momentum of my impulsivity, I seized the files away from him, forcing him to acknowledge the issue at hand. “Spencer, you can’t keep pretending like everything is fine,” I threw up my hands in the air in exasperation, catching a few lingering eyes of the team.

“I don’t have to deal with this right now,” Spencer professed, rising from his seat to walk away. But before he had the opportunity to reach the exit, I grabbed onto his wrist, halting him.

“Then, when?” I taunted. “When are you going to deal with this?”

By now, we had attracted an audience.

“Certainly not with you,” he snickered mockingly.

“Reid!” I snapped, my voice rising in volume and fierceness. “You can’t keep running away from your problems.”

“Are you serious right now, Y/N?” he vocalized incredulously, glaring at me with bitter hostility. “You’re just bothered that you did something that hurt me--th-that hurt all of us, and I sought comfort in someone I could trust.”

“I don’t care that you went to JJ fo-”

“God Y/N! Yo-you didn’t even have the decency to tell me--YOUR boyfriend--that this happened.”

“Reid, that’s not fai-”

“Oh really? That’s not fair?” Spencer seethed, disdain bound to his words. “You know what’s not fair Y/N? I spent nights--NIGHTS--crying on JJ’s couch from the loss of a friend, only to find out that they’re alive,” he gestured to Emily sitting idly by the team, watching the scene between me and Spencer unfold. “What I especially loved was coming back to the same couch because of my own girlfriend’s deception.”

At this point, JJ attempted to step forward to intervene, but I waved her off. “I. Had. No. Choice,” I defended, practically speaking through clenched teeth.

“You know what?” Spencer scoffed, shaking his head. “Gosh, JJ has put in more effort into being my girlfriend than you ever did.”

I was suspended in place as the words rang out in my head. A shiver crept up my arms and sent harrowing shockwaves that pierced my chest. Simultaneously, a stinging sensation engulfed my esophagus in flames, stunting my ability to form sentences. “Spencer, you...you don’t m-mean that,” I swallowed my voice, mumbling a question rather than a firm statement.

I felt myself on the cliff again, but this time the rocks were slowly crumbling underneath my feet while burning tar glued my feet to the ground.

“You practically pushed me into her arms. When you were out there lying to ALL of us, she was the only one that stayed with me.”

“Spence…” JJ called out from behind me, attempting to diffuse the situation. Although, Spencer was far deluded by his discourse that nothing obstructed him.

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer assured, inching closer to me. With a repugnant sneer on his lips, his eyes squinted into a loathing glare, and his countenance aflame, he gave me what I couldn’t give to him: his truth.

A truth that I didn’t want to unfurl.  

“You know I don’t even know why you’re constantly reminding me that I can’t accept my mistakes or problems...” he bickered, a deliberate sneer etched into his features, “...because it was pretty damn easy to accept that YOU are my biggest mistake.”

-

I thought the rocks would crumble from beneath me, and I’d fall. I thought choosing to stand on that cliff alone, to bear the weight for someone I loved, was noble, even if it meant ending up in the abyss below.

But I didn’t fall. I was pushed.

Pushed by the very person I stood on that cliff for.

-

part 2 

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie​ @honeymilk-4​ @linthebinbag​ @andreasworlsboring101​

[inkykeiji]

sapphire and gold

characters: dabi, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut

notes: for @babyy-bunnii and @kirispiracy! inspired by a text i sent my best friend lmao. i considered using the name touya instead of dabi, but i didn’t want anyone to get confused with the touya characterization i’ve already got going on, so!! we’ll just use dabi.

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), threesome, slight degradation, drug use (weed), dubcon/noncon, blowjobs/face-fucking (kinda implied???)

words: 2.2k

synopsis:

You nod, laughing a little and rubbing your face against his shoulder like a cat. He smells so good—has he always smelled this good? It’s making your mouth water—does he taste as good as he smells?

Would you like to find out, songbird?

Blinking slowly, you look up at him, eyebrows furrowing a little as you try to focus on his face. Did he just read your mind? Did he just speak to you through telepathy?

He’s gazing down at you with half-lidded golden eyes and a lazy smirk.

“You’re real cute, you know?” he looks up. “Dabi, bro, she’s really cute,”

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“Please, niichan?” you’re using that high, whiny voice, the one you use when you’re begging for something, the one that really gets under his fucking skin, that he can’t stand, unless his cock’s buried inside you. “I’ll be good, promise!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “The answer’s still no, sweetheart,”

“Ugh,” you groan, plopping down on his bed heavily as your lips push out into an adorable pout. “This is so unfair! You’re literally kicking me out of my own house. At least let me stay in my bedroom, I’ll—”

“Except you won’t,” he bites, sapphire eyes cold as he glares at you over his shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon,” Keigo collapses on the bed beside you, making your body jiggle a little and placing a large palm on your back, petting. “What’s the harm in letting her stay? She’s of age now,” he turns towards you. “You’re legal, aren’t you?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“And do you want to spend the entire night babysitting her?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Keigo responds with an easy smirk and a quirk of his eyebrows, expression steadfast even in the face of the fierce glare Dabi shoots him.

“Oh, Christ,” Dabi sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“See—”

“No.” he snaps firmly. His eyes burn into yours, stare so intense it almost hurts. But then your chin begins to tremble, and your eyes glaze over with a thick barrier of tears, and you’re starting to make those cute little half-sniffle, half-whimper noises, and he blanches.  

No, not the tears—please, anything but the tears.

“But I j-just—” your chest hitches. “Just wanna spend a lil time with you, s’all,” Keigo coos to your left, sharp cobalt eyes darting to him, narrowed and seething. “Jus’wanna be with you for a bit, th-that’s it,”

And he can see it, the painful sincerity in your eyes, can see it in the way your nose twitches and your chest hiccups, in the way you bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

Sometimes, he wishes you weren’t so goddamn genuine.

“C’mere,” he’s sighing with a defeated nod of his head, and you’re bouncing up before he’s even finished speaking. He shares a quick look with Keigo, who nods and takes that as his cue to leave, closing the bedroom door softly behind himself. “You’re such a brat, y’know that?”

“Mm, but I’m your brat,” you mumble into his chest, nuzzling against him.

“You can stay on one condition,” he begins, you looking up at him and batting your shining eyes in question, remnants of tears decorating your eyelashes. “I don’t want you leaving my sight, do you hear me? Wherever I go, you fucking go, got it?”

“Deal,” you agree readily, fingers tangling in his shirt as you pull yourself closer. He sighs again, and you can tell he isn’t happy about it, isn’t happy about allowing you to stay, isn’t happy about his inability to say no to his darling baby sister.

But every word of what you said is true—you just started your third year of university, and it’s taking up more of your time than you initially expected. Feels like you barely see him anymore, you’re whining into his chest, tears beginning to burn your eyes again. It’s not fair for him to kick you out of the house on one of the rare weekends you have free.

He can’t argue with that. It isn’t like he doesn’t want you around—he does; he’s missed you too, you know, even though it would be like pulling teeth to get him to admit it. It’s that he doesn’t want you around his friends. They’re sleazy, gross degenerates, absolute dirtbags, and they don’t deserve to be in the presence of his precious, pure angel.

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There are so many people—too many people—crowding your living room, so many unfamiliar faces you’ve never seen before, and you curl into your big brother, fingers knotting in his white t-shirt as curious, wide eyes drink in the scene around you. Dabi smirks, looking down at you and giving your shoulder a squeeze, a tiny bit too hard. You jump and pout up at him, and he laughs, eyes glittering.

The majority of the night is spent in his lap, leaning back against his chest as large hands idly rub gentle circles into your hips, fingers wandering up and down your thighs in nonchalant caresses as he talks languidly to his friends, and it’s just teasing enough to have you wanting more.

Many of the people surrounding you frighten you a little, and you pretend not to hear some of the girls’ obnoxious whispers as they pass by; they look a little close for step-siblings, don’t they?, opting to snuggle into your niichan instead. It’s cozy and familiar, a sharp pang searing through your chest when one of his hands moves to caress your hair, readjusting you a little in his lap and holding you tighter.

There’s a part of you that wishes he didn’t have this party at all, that wishes it was just the two of you, since it seems like you rarely get moments like that anymore. You would’ve rather spent the weekend your parents were away getting pounded into his mattress for two days straight, or fucking in the kitchen and the shower, spending the duration of the time they’re gone in nothing but his hoodie—no panties allowed, of course—like you used to any time they took a vacation.

But you can’t be selfish—you’ll take what you can get.

The living room’s hazy now, thick with smoke, diffusing the light shining from the lamps and making everything look softer. Everyone around you looks so loose, so relaxed, so cool as they exhale clouds of smoke. Restless, you wiggle a little and pout, whining against Dabi’s neck that you feel left out, that you just want a little, please?

You can hear some of his friends giggling, and it only makes you more embarrassed, heat rushing to your cheeks as you squirm in his lap and nuzzle into him.

A soft groan vibrates in his chest and Christ, he thinks, you’ve got to be doing that on purpose, grinding right up against his cock as you blink your eyes up at him, begging for a hit.

He won’t allow it, of course. No, if you want some, you gotta take it from his mouth, and his mouth only.

It doesn’t matter that there’s a ton of people around, a few of them staring incredulously as they murmur things behind their hands—he doesn’t fucking care.

Fingers thread through the hair at the back of your head, holding you still as he brings his face close to yours. Your mouth falls open immediately, obediently, and you can see the laughter dancing in his eyes at how pathetically eager you are.

It isn’t as difficult as you worried it might be, concentrating hard to inhale the smoke he’s slowly blowing into your mouth at the same speed that he’s exhaling it.

He tells you to hold it in for a moment, and you cough a little, not used to smoke in your lungs. Dabi’s looking down at you with shining, half-lidded eyes, ebony pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

“Again?” he asks, amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yes, please,”

He only does it three times, claims that that’s more than enough, and then he’s getting up, shifting out from under you and depositing you half in keigo’s lap, who laughs as he adjusts you to sit more upright.

You’re not even that high—not really, just a lil floaty, you think, and you kinda can’t stop giggling. It’s just that Keigo is so pretty, you just wanna be a little closer to him, wiggling into his lap completely, and everything he says is hilarious—but Keigo’s always been so funny.

“Feeling good, pretty girl?”

You nod, laughing a little and rubbing your face against his shoulder like a cat. He smells so good—has he always smelled this good? It’s making your mouth water—does he taste as good as he smells?

Would you like to find out, songbird?

Blinking slowly, you look up at him, eyebrows furrowing a little as you try to focus on his face. Did he just read your mind? Did he just speak to you through telepathy?

He’s gazing down at you with half-lidded golden eyes and a lazy smirk.

“You’re real cute, you know?” he looks up. “Dabi, bro, she’s really cute,”

Niichan’s back? You whimper for him, making grabby hands, but his eyes are narrowed as they dart between the two of you suspiciously.

She asked to taste me,

Did she now?

“Niichan,” you pout, whining out the word. It isn’t fair—you’ve barely had his full attention all night, and now he’s too far, much too far, and you tell him so—or at least, you think you do, because then he’s scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to his bedroom and—and is Keigo coming, too?

Niichan is talking, you know he is, can feel his deep voice vibrating against your body, though you’re having trouble concentrating on his words, especially when hiccupped giggles keep escaping your lips without your permission, drowning him out.

Niichan’s gonna share you tonight, okay? Only for tonight, princess, he’s saying as he lays you down on his bed. Two cocks should satisfy your insatiable need for attention, right, baby?

You hum in response, nodding your head a little, even though you’re not exactly sure what you’re agreeing to. But it doesn’t matter; you don’t really care to question it as tender hands—two pairs of tender hands—are removing your dress and panties, fingertips grazing your skin and leaving chills in their wake.

All you know is that everything just feels nice. Their fingers on your skin, in your mouth, in your pussy, it all feels so nice.

“Good, feels so good,” you’re whimpering around the two fingers stuffed in your mouth. You suck experimentally, giggling a little when a moan sounds from somewhere in the room. Someone praises you for being a good little whore, for drooling all over their fingers so well as they slip into your cunt with ease.

“Feels—” you cut yourself off with a gasp. “Good,”

Yeah, I bet it does,

That’s niichan, you think. Sounds a lot like him, but it’s hard to tell when knuckles are curling inside of you, and your little hole is fluttering, and someone’s playing with your clit, and God, her pussy’s so cute, dude.

You’re whining a little now that your mouth is empty, body arching off the bed just a bit, and aw, no, baby. Do you need something to suck on?

Hands are on you again, flipping you over and forcing you to hold yourself up on all fours. The head of a cock—a pretty cock, all smooth and velvety with a few prominent veins and a pretty pink tip—is nudging against your lips, your mouth falling open automatically. Someone praises you again and you preen, giggling around the cock stuffed in your mouth, a pleasant warmth spreading through your body.

Something’s pressing into your cute little cunt now, too, a soft groan sounding from somewhere behind you as nimble fingers flex on your hips, keeping you still as your hole stretches.

A moan gets caught in your chest, partially silenced by the cock now being thrust down your throat, hard, fast, rough, fingers knotted in your hair pulling as they force you to move your head.

But whoever it is in front of you—yes, it must be Keigo, niichan doesn’t taste like this, is just a hint thicker than this—doesn’t last long, cock shoved in your mouth throbbing as it spurts ropes of white down your throat. You’re choking a little as strong hands hold your head still, all wrapped up in your hair, but you’re doing so well, songbird and God, you’re so hot.

You’re mumbling something, drool and cum dribbling down your chin, though you’re pretty sure you swallowed most of it. Gold, shimmering, blazing gold, settles in front of you, cooing gently as fingertips clean your mouth and then mildly begin massaging your jaw, a stark contrast to the hips slamming into you from behind.

It feels good, so good, but it’s so much, too much, overwhelming your senses and making your head feel like it’s spinning, soft little moans falling from your lips as your niichan’s cockhead drags against that spot over and over, vision completely whiting out as your pussy clenches around him.

And then he’s asking you if you want his cum, and you’re babbling a little; yes niichan, of course you want to be filled up, yes please niichan, wanna be full from both ends, and yes niichan, I want your cum, I want so much cum, I want it leaking out of every orifice of my body.

Fuck, the word’s spit out brokenly as his hips stutter, cock pulsing inside of you as it fills you with hot, thick cum, and it’s so much, you’re sure it has to be leaking out of you, glazing your inner thighs.

Pain sears through your body, a special type of agony that burrows into your muscles and bones, that has you whining as someone pulls you against their heaving chest, fingers combing through sweaty hair. Your jaw is sore, hips bruised, pussy aching just a little, but you were such a good girl for your niichan, and that’s all that matters.

[citrinesparkles]

cat part two.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,052 words. notes: part one here! (edit: part three here!) jason's having a really long night, okay. kids and crooks are one thing. cats are another. warnings: food is sort of discussed?

honestly? he felt a little stupid thinking anything was strange at this point, given the whole 'been dead done that' thing, but even he had to admit that running around cradling a jacket full of too-thin cat felt a little odd.

he'd walked the kids home, hearing the whole way about how clever and sweet cat was and how it liked tuna and chicken but do not give it turkey because it will walk away without eating and their mom said that onion was bad for cats, so none of that either.

when they made it to their apartment building, jordan ran upstairs and gathered up the last of their tuna leftovers in a little plastic baggie, bringing it back with another 'thank you' and a joke about finding a different park. then he'd scooped jazz up and disappeared back inside. jason caught something about sesame street reruns- which, if he was being honest, sounded pretty good right about then.

he took off with cat wrapped up neatly, tucked carefully against his chest.

and it meowed the entire way up to the convenience store three streets over.

it didn't seem to want to stop meowing inside the store, either, immediately catching the attention of the worker behind the counter.

"do you guys carry- uh," he adjusted cat carefully, "cat food?"

her eyes were bouncing between him and the bundle of yelling, and he was really starting to feel the absurdity of the whole situation.

"uh-"

she was interrupted by a particularly indignant meow that made him groan and hold the jacket out to look the cat in the eye.

"what do you want, huh?" he asked tiredly. "i'm doing my best here."

it meowed again.

"is... that your cat?" the cashier asked quietly.

"no." another meow. "but it is my problem."

"o-kay," she stood up and made her way around the counter, giving jason plenty of space as she passed him. "what kind of cat food?"

"the kind that will get this thing to stop screaming at me."

"have you tried, y'know, not calling it 'it' and 'thing'?"

"listen- i've had a long night, okay?" he pulled cat back to his chest- met with yet another meow- and tucked it into one arm, dropping the other hand to dig into his pocket. he emptied it, glancing down at the contents briefly before putting it on the counter. "i've got twenty five bucks and a wendy's coupon, a cat that somehow became my responsibility and just will not shut up, and- as i'm sure you'll be able to relate to, considering your customer service job- a desperate need for a nap that is growing by the second. will you, please, get me whatever cat stuff you can sell me and let me worry about what to call it?"

she leaned back around the endcap, raising her hands in mock surrender. "whatever, bat guy."

"bat guy?" he repeated incredulously.

she nodded at his chest, making him rolled his eyes. "the name's red hood."

she stared at him for a moment, squinting at his head. "that's not a-"

"i know! i know it's not a hood! why does everyone feel the need to point that out tonight! it's- it's symbolic!"

she scoffed, disappearing back down the row of merchandise. "symbolic of what, your childhood dreams of becoming a racecar driver?"

"you'll forgive me for not giving you my whole tragic backstory in the middle of a corner store at three in the morning while cat is still screaming?"

he heard rustling, and the sound of tin hitting tin. "did you just call it cat?"

he took a deep, slow breath and squinted up at the ceiling tiles. "are you really back to giving me shit about it?"

"yeah. that's not a name."

"it's not my cat, so i don't care. besides, you're one to talk- shouldn't you have a nametag on or something?"

"i used to. it got buried somewhere." she reappeared, arms full of cans. "you're so good at names, why don't you come up with something? cashier has a nice ring to it."

"very clever."

she nodded smugly with a barely noticeable eyeroll, turning towards the back room. "i do that sometimes. look, wait here, okay?

"i don't really have time-"

"i gotta get my manager, okay. trust me on this. two minutes, tops."

she was gone before he could respond, ducking into a back room with the cat food.

he reluctantly decided to give her sixty seconds before he just left and hoped the tuna from jordan would be good enough.

she came back with an older woman in tow about forty five seconds in, which was more frustrating than relieving.

he just wanted to be home.

"you were serious," the older woman muttered incredulously, staring at him before zeroing in on the bundle in jason's arms- which meowed immediately, as though it felt her gaze. "this isn't your cat?"

"no. it is not my cat. can i just get my-"

"do you have a litter box?"

oh, duh. "no."

she nodded thoughtfully. "how much did you say you have?"

"twenty five. look, not to be rude, but can we hurry this up? i have somewhere to be."

"twenty five," she repeated, leaning over the counter. "alright. run and grab a box and some litter for him, and-" she turned back to him- "are you on foot?"

this was getting ridiculous. "how does that-"

"one of those pool bags, too, the one with the long strap."

it took about five minutes for the two women to pack the bag full of a plastic bin, a box of litter, like twenty cans of food, and three different toys, before passing it- and his money- to him.

"you helped tony up the street last week, didn't you?" the manager grinned at his protests. "call it even."

if the money ended up on the counter anyway, that wasn't any of her business, he figured.

--

"alright, cat," he muttered as he shuffled through the window awkwardly, "we gotta be quiet."

which, obviously, earned a loud meow.

he sighed and slid the window back down with his elbow, balancing cat and the large bag in the other arm.

"so," your sweet, entirely-too-awake, way-too-amused voice called behind him, "your jacket meows now?"

so much for being quiet.