#look at least he was really close to leaving.

[just-aake]

Flustered Crushes

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The Black Widow does not get flustered. So why is it that Natasha can’t seem to stop embarrassing herself in front of you?

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2795

At the edge of the bustling hangar bay, Natasha leans against the cold, metallic wall, her arms folded tightly, a faint frown etched across her brow as her sharp gaze observes the scene unfolding before her. 

Near the base of the Quinjet’s ramp, you are engaged in animated conversation with Carol Danvers, who happened to arrive at the compound for a quick visit precisely when you returned from your mission.  

You've been with the Avengers for a few months now, a former SHIELD agent seamlessly adjusting to the team dynamics. 

Over time, you've connected with everyone—including her. 

So, Natasha’s made an extra effort to help you feel welcome. 

Clint often teases her about her behavior, insisting her attentiveness borders on something more personal, something like a…crush. 

Natasha dismisses his comments each time with a roll of her eyes. 

She’s just being nice. 

After all, it's only natural to want a solid, dependable relationship with a new teammate, especially someone she'll be working closely with.

That’s the only reason why she came to greet you when you return from your mission.

At least, that’s what she tells herself as she stands there, alone, on the sidelines…not with you. 

Natasha watches Carol say something that makes you laugh, causing her faint frown to deepen.

The flash of amusement in your eyes as Carol grins back makes Natasha roll her eyes and look away, unable to take the sight anymore as a pang of irritation tightens in her chest.

She tries to shake it off, but it doesn’t disappear.

After all, it’s not like she got here an hour before your scheduled return and waited to see you…just to end up watching as the blonde space beauty swoop in, effortlessly captivating your attention.

Deciding she’s had enough, Natasha pushes herself off the wall, preparing to leave.

However, her abrupt movement catches others around her off guard, and she ends up bumping into a passing cart loaded with tools and equipment. 

A clattering sound echoes across the hangar as wrenches and bolts spill onto the floor. 

Natasha curses softly under her breath, a mix of pain and embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she drops to gather the scattered items, apologizing hastily to the technician she collided with before quickly exiting the area.

In her haste, she doesn’t notice your gaze, the subtle smile tugging at your lips as you follow her with amused eyes, tracking her every flustered move across the hangar bay, even as she slips away without a backward glance.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So, how’s it going with your crush?” Clint asks, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches Natasha.

Natasha shoots him a warning look that would strike fear into the most fearsome of villains.

Without a word, she grabs the coffee pot, filling his mug before pouring some for herself. She replaces the pot with a decisive click.

“There is no crush,” she states firmly, taking a sip as though punctuating her denial.

“Are you sure about that?” Clint asks skeptically before continuing, “Whenever Y/n’s around, it’s like you lose all of your charm and coolness.” 

Natasha gives him an unimpressed glare. 

“Really? Coolness? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Clint smirks, raising his mug in mock salute.

“Ask me again after I finish this coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, holding her mug close, feeling the warm comfort seep into her hands.

Just as she brings it to her lips, the doors swing open, and Tony strolls into the kitchen, spotting them with their drinks. 

“Oh, coffee! Pour me a cup, Romanoff.”

“Pour your own,” Natasha mutters, savoring her next sip. 

Tony feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock. 

“FRIDAY, remind me, who owns this building?” 

“You do, sir,” the AI replies smoothly. 

Tony gestures upward triumphantly at her before pointing towards the kitchen. 

“So, technically, that machine is mine, the beans are mine, and...oh, right, that pot of coffee is also mine.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes but eventually reaches for the pot, lifting it begrudgingly.

Tony holds out his mug with a victorious grin. 

But just as she hovers the pot above his cup, she stops short.

“A ‘please’ once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he gasps in exaggerated disbelief as Natasha raises a brow in expectation.

Huffing, he mutters, “Can I have some coffee, please?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Natasha quips with a smirk, preparing to pour him his coffee.

At that moment, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal you, fresh from your morning workout, dressed in your training gear.

You walk by the kitchen, spotting the other Avengers gathered around. 

A delighted smile spreads across your face. 

“Ooh, coffee! Can I have some, too?” 

Natasha’s response is instant. 

“Sure, I’ll make you a new pot.” 

Her tone is warmer than usual, surprising even herself.

You beam at her, and Natasha feels herself pause, momentarily captivated by the sight. Distracted, she almost misses your following words. 

“Thanks, Natasha! Let me change, and I’ll be right back.”

You slip through the doors, leaving Natasha blinking, still trying to regain her composure. 

Tony watches with raised eyebrows. 

“Wait a second—she didn’t even say ‘please,’ and you’re making her a whole new pot?”

Natasha’s eyes narrow as she holds the pot just out of reach of Tony’s mug. 

“Do you want coffee or not?” 

Tony grumbles before muttering a grudging “Yes, please.” 

Satisfied, Natasha pours the coffee, keeping her focus steady. 

“Natasha?” your voice catches her off guard, and she glances up to see you poking your head back into the room. 

“Yes?” she replies a little too quickly, immediately focusing on you. 

Both Clint and Tony fall silent, watching the two of you with curious eyes. 

“Steve’s got a mission tomorrow,” you explain. “Would you mind if I train with you in the meantime?”

Natasha’s mind races for a moment before she steadies herself to answer.

“Uh—yeah, sure. Anytime you want.” 

“Great!” you say enthusiastically before glancing worriedly at the counter. “I think that’s enough coffee.” 

Natasha follows your gaze, eyes widening as she realizes Tony’s cup is overflowing, dark liquid pooling across the counter. She yanks the pot away with a muttered curse. 

“Oh sh—!”

Tony steps back just in time, glaring down at his soaked countertop.

“Really, Romanoff? This is a new suit!” 

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grabs paper towels, unruffled by his dramatics. 

“Calm down, it barely even touched you.”

You let out a small laugh. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, shooting her a smile as you exit.

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, her attention lingering on the door.

Clint chuckles as he takes another sip, eyeing her knowingly. 

“You’re right, Nat. It’s not a crush,” he says, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s way worse.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha flashes one of her most charming smiles, leaning just slightly forward as the receptionist fumbles through her files, cheeks tinged with a rosy hue under Natasha’s intense gaze. 

“Here you go!” the receptionist says, her voice soft as she hands over a key card. “I’m sorry again for the mix-up.”

Natasha’s fingers rest lightly over the receptionist’s hand as she accepts the card, her eyes warm and a playful smile tugging at her lips. 

“No problem at all,” she replies, her tone smooth. “I don’t mind the delay with such lovely company.” 

The receptionist blushes deeply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and giving Natasha a flustered smile. 

Natasha’s confident smirk grows as she watches her charms take effect. 

Quick and efficient, she slips the USB drive from the computer, seamlessly hiding it under her palm as it rests over the key card. For a moment, she feels pleased with herself, effortlessly pulling off her usual charisma.

See, she thinks to herself, Clint has no idea what he’s talking about—she’s got plenty of charm.

“Nice job, Natasha,” your voice suddenly crackles in her earpiece, startling her. 

Her hand slips in surprise, almost knocking over the items on the counter. She turns it into a casual adjustment, but not before the receptionist gives her a curious look. 

Natasha quickly smiles, grabbing the key card and offering a polite nod before walking away toward a secluded corner of the lobby.

Pressing a finger to her comms, she mutters, “Y/n? Where’s Clint?” 

“He had to step out for a minute,” you answer. “He asked me to take over. Is that okay?” 

“No–I mean—yes, of course,” Natasha says, the words tumbling out a bit too quickly. 

She straightens, running a hand through her hair as she tries to regain her composure. It’s not like she hadn’t expected you to assist with missions, but the thought of you watching her…

She tamps down the sudden flutter in her chest and forces herself to stay focused.

“Your next target is on the same floor as the key card you just picked up,” you continue, your voice warm and steady in her ear. 

“Got it.” 

“I’ll explain what you’re looking for.”

Natasha nods and begins striding toward the elevators, hoping her sudden focus will drown out the distraction of your voice in her head. 

She tells herself it’s just a mission—professional, routine.

But now, with you guiding her through the next steps, each word falling from your lips makes it harder for her to maintain her usually calm, steady demeanor. 

Her heart beats a little faster, and her cheeks feel a bit warmer than they should. She brushes off the thoughts and keeps walking, determined to stay cool and collected.

“Um…Natasha?”

She stops mid-step. “Hmm?”

“You’re…going the wrong way.”

Natasha freezes, blinking in surprise. She glances around, realizing she’s heading in the opposite direction from the elevators.

A wave of embarrassment sweeps over her as she lets out a quiet curse under her breath.

“Right,” Natasha says, turning with as much dignity as she can muster, her face heating as she finally heads in the correct direction.

Oh, she thinks to herself, she’s definitely going to kill Clint.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha steps out of her room, her leather jacket slung over one arm as she adjusts the zipper. 

Your voice calls her name from down the hall, catching her off guard and making her slam the door shut in a startled motion. She spins to face you, only to be tugged back by an unexpected resistance.

Natasha looks down with a sigh, spotting her jacket sleeve caught in the door. Tugging at it proves ineffective, as it stays firmly wedged in place.

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Natasha hastily shoves the jacket behind her back, trying to appear composed. She leans casually against the door, hoping the awkward moment has gone unnoticed.

“Hey,” you greet with a warm smile as you reach her.

“Hey, Y/n,” Natasha replies, attempting a relaxed tone.

You eye her with a hint of curiosity. “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Natasha says quickly, forcing a casual smile. “Just, um, examining the door. Thought it could use a closer look.”

Your brows raise in amused surprise at her peculiar explanation, but you let it go. 

“Well, once you’re done with that,” you say, playing along, “I made a reservation at that new place downtown. I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

“Just the two of us?” The words slip out before Natasha can stop herself. 

A flicker of excitement and amusement crosses your face as you nod. 

“Yeah, just us,” you say softly.

Natasha’s heart gives a small flutter, but she maintains her composure. 

“I’d love to,” she says, a smile slipping through despite her best efforts to stay calm.

“Great, it’s a date,” you say, grinning. “I’ll meet you in the garage.” With a playful smirk, you add, “After you finish your ‘inspection,’ of course.”

As you walk toward the elevator, Natasha watches you with a lingering smile.

Once you’re out of sight, she finally frees her jacket and heads to the garage a few minutes later, finding you waiting by her motorcycle.

You hop on behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist in a snug embrace. 

The warmth of your presence makes her feel a fluttering sensation in her chest she can’t shake. Distracted, Natasha blindly reaches for her helmet and slips it on—only to be met with complete darkness.

With a soft sigh, Natasha’s head drops to her chest, realizing she put it on backward. 

The chuckle that escapes your lips behind her is quickly muffled as you clear your throat, your hands reaching to help her. 

You gently remove the helmet, your fingers brushing her cheek as you pull it off.

When Natasha glances back, she catches the playful look in your eyes as you bite back a grin.

Seeing this, Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Can we just pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen and start over? I swear, this doesn’t usually happen to me.”

You laugh, unable to hold back anymore. 

“Oh, I know all about the smooth and charming Black Widow,” you say, your gaze warm and teasing. “But I think this side of you is pretty cute too.”

A faint blush spreads across her cheeks at your words, and Natasha takes the helmet, this time slipping it on correctly, with a soft smile she can’t quite hide anymore.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s another one of Tony’s famous parties, where glittering lights reflect off polished floors and music pulses softly through the spacious hall. 

In the middle of the dance floor, beneath the warm glow, Natasha sways with you, her hands resting gently on your waist as you move together to the rhythm of the soft melody. 

You wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in and drawing her closer until your lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. 

Natasha smiles softly against your lips, and as you pull back, she rests her forehead gently against yours, eyes half-closed in a moment of quiet contentment. 

Even as the music fades into the background, her hands remain firm on your waist, as if she has no intention of letting go.

“Why don’t we get something to drink?” you suggest, glancing over at the bar lined with sparkling glasses.

Natasha only pulls you closer, her fingers brushing lightly along the small of your back as she murmurs, “Or…we could stay right here and have another dance.” 

Her voice is a soft suggestion, and she leans in slightly, her green eyes filled with warmth and alluring charm.

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across your lips. 

“It’s cute how you’re trying to be smooth.”

Natasha’s expression shifts, feigning innocence. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, though the faintest blush colors her cheeks.

With a playful glint in your eye, you tilt your head at her in challenge. 

“How long has your bracelet been stuck to my dress?” you ask, giving her a teasing look.

Natasha glances away, the blush deepening as she realizes she’s been caught. She’s spent the past few moments subtly trying to free her wrist from your dress, but to no avail.

“In my defense,” she murmurs, attempting to deflect, “you distracted me with how beautiful you look tonight.”

You chuckle softly at her excuse, reaching up to pull her even closer. With a playful grin, you press a gentle kiss to her lips before leaning in to whisper against her ear.

“Think of the bright side—if you can’t get it loose, I’m sure you could just rip this dress off me.”

Natasha’s breath catches, and for a split second, she’s utterly still, her mind stalling at the suggestion. 

You pull back just enough to watch her expression, and a delighted smile grows on your face as she stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered, clearly caught off guard.

It only takes her a moment to catch on, her eyes narrowing in realization as she shakes her head with a playful huff. 

“You’re trying to embarrass me on purpose,” she accuses, a hint of a smile breaking through.

Unashamed, you bite back a laugh and nod. 

“It’s nice to see the calm and collected Black Widow all flustered for once.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a smirk as she pulls you flush against her, her free hand sliding up your back, fingers grazing along your spine. She leans in, her lips just a breath away from yours, the warmth of her gaze intense.

“Only for you,” she murmurs, her voice a hushed promise before closing the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that makes you forget the world around you, the room fading away as you melt into each other’s embrace.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a short fluff with a soft Natasha that I had finished some time ago. after everything that has happened yesterday and today, I wanted to give some kind of happier distraction, even if it may be only a temporary escape from everything. I’m still going between disbelief, sadness, and anger myself about the situation while also trying to be prepared to continue on. But hopefully, this was able to bring some of you some sort of break from everything else.

[thesnowflake18]

Y'all we had one singular job.

[daisymbin]

promise me ice cream! - jeon wonwoo

warnings: slightly insecure wonwoo?

pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: drunk confessions, friends to ???

wc: 1.3k

a/n: I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve 223 of yall following me but thank you 🥺

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

your best friend, wonwoo is sprawled on the bed, looking more like a puddle of drunk affection than his usual composed self. he's clinging onto you, he wedges your leg in between his own; hugging it like it was a bolster as his head rests on your lap as if it were a pillow, his arms wrapped around your leg, not wanting to let go as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze is hazy, eyes blinking slowly as he stares up at you, his lips curving into a drunken smile, “you're so pretty.” he says as you chuckle while you run your hands through his hair; messaging his head a little to relieve the potential headache.

“why'd you drink so much tonight?” you asked, “its not like you, you're not usually like this.” wonwoo lets out a deep sigh at your question, “you were talking to jun all night and…i dont know, i just didn't like it. i got jealous. it's like…you’ll never pick me.” he says with a pout, eyes closing shut. “jealous? of jun?” you frown, trying to make sense of his words. if only he knew, “don't be silly, you know i talk to jun all the time but you'll always be my best friend. there's nothing to be jealous about.” you reassured. “& i’ll always pick you.”

“you're breaking my heart.” wonwoo mumbles so soft, you almost would have missed it if it weren't for a drunk wonwoo clinging onto you for dear life, heightening all your senses & leaving your heart beating so fast. “what do you mean, wonwoo?” 

"you’re my favorite person," he says, his voice soft and slow, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. "i don’t know if i’ll ever be your favorite, but... you're my favorite." his hand gently strokes the inside of your thigh, sending shiver down your spine. his fingers light against your skin as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of being this close.

you smile as you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. you’re a little amused yet also, a little taken aback by the way he’s acting; he's never been like this. you gently run your fingers through his hair, trying to coax him to sleep even though you're sure he’s already half asleep. & maybe you're also just taking advantage of the situation and being a little selfish; having him like this.

"i’m just me," he continues, voice drowsy and laced with alcohol. "i’m just wonwoo, you know? just regular, plain ol' wonwoo. but you're... you're perfect. sparkly. i don’t even know why you ever looked my way years ago, let alone be friends with me.”

you laugh softly, but it’s mixed with a hint of sadness, wondering how he could ever think that about himself. "you’re not just wonwoo, you know that, right? you’re more than that."

wonwoo shakes his head, but his grip on your leg tightens. "no, no, no. i’m just me. i’m just wonwoo, and you’re... you’re so pretty and you're so kind. you're such a good person...so much better than I'll ever be. that's why you would never like someone like me."

his words sting more than they should, but you can tell he's too drunk to mean them fully, right? that's what you hoped for at least. you want to tell him how wrong he is, how much you care for him, but instead, you sit in the quiet, letting him speak his mind as he clings onto you, his drunken ramblings the only thing filling the space between you two.

after a moment, he sits up a little, his gaze suddenly lighting up with a burst of energy. "ice cream," he says, as if it’s the most important thing in the world right now. "we should go on an ice cream date. right now. let’s go."

you glance at him, blinking in surprise at the sudden contrast. it’s already past 4AM and he’s drunk, this is not the time for an ice cream run date. "wonwoo," you say softly, trying to get him to focus. "it’s really late. we’re not going for ice cream right now, okay?"

he looks up at you with wide, sad, hopeful eyes, and you can’t help but find it endearing, even if it’s a little ridiculous. "why not?" he asks, his pout deepening, and his grip on your leg tightening again as he drags himself impossibly closer to you. "i want to go on an ice cream date with you, please?” 

you laugh, though it's full of affection and fondness. "wonwoo, you’re drunk & it’s really late. we’re not going anywhere. you can’t go out for ice cream right now, I don't think you can even walk straight, did you forget how I had to haul you back here?"

he pouts even harder, his lower lip trembling slightly & he almost look as if he’s about to start crying any time as he sits back and crosses his arms, looking like a grumpy child. "but i want ice cream. now. i’m hungry."

you can’t help but smile at his stubbornness. "we’ll go tomorrow, okay?" you promise. "i’ll take you out on an ice cream date tomorrow. I'll even let you pick all the flavours you want, even if its 5 of them."

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, staring at you with a suspicious frown. "tomorrow? don’t lie…i’m only asking you now because… this is a dream, you wouldnt reject me in my dream, would you?" he asks, his voice filled with doubt. "because i know you won’t really take me for ice cream tomorrow when I wake up. you don’t like me like that. you’re just humoring me."

"wonwoo, i promise, tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream," you reassure him, your voice gentle and warm as you stroke his hair again, trying to comfort him.

but wonwoo still looks disappointed and doubtful, his shoulders slump. "tomorrow will never come. this is all a dream. you’ll wake up, and i’ll be... i’ll be just me. plain wonwoo. i won’t be good enough for you. you will never pick me.”

your heart aches at the way he’s talking. he doesn’t believe that you like him, doesn’t believe in this moment, in the promise of tomorrow. "wonwoo, i’m not going anywhere," you say, taking his hand in yours. "i'll be right here when you open your eyes when the sun rises & i'll tell you all the reasons why you're more than enough. i really do like you, I love you, and tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream. i promise."

he looks down at your hand, still not fully convinced. "promise?" he asks, his voice small and fragile.

"promise," you say firmly, hands finding his as you lock your pinky around his.

wonwoo hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his expression softening. "okay...okay," he murmurs, closing his eyes as he rests his head back on your lap, your hands instinctively go back to playing with his hair, he's completely content now. "ice cream date tomorrow. i’ll wait for tomorrow...even if it doesn't happen it's okay..at least im laying on your lap now…at least you’re playing with my hair now…at least now i know what it's like to hear you say you like me too.”

you smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, watching him drift off to sleep in your lap. even though he’s drunk and unsure, you know he believes you somewhere deep down. & tomorrow, you’ll take him for ice cream, just like you promised. and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, he’ll realize how much you really do care about him, & how much you really do love him.

[lightseoul]

#12 please🫶🫶

12, coming right up! tagging also @tsunderelover07, thank you sm for playing <3

(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

12. "I COULD USE A HUG RIGHT NOW." (1.6k)

you’re startled to attention when your phone pings from where you unknowingly dropped it beside you on the couch.

apparently, it has slid by the edge of your butt in the few minutes of you staring blankly at the off-white wall, and the brief vibration right to your ass is enough to snap you back to reality.

your now sucky-ass reality.

picking it up, your frown deepens even more when you see the text.

(7:04 PM) bestie #1 (mina)💞: i’m so sorry i can’t be there with you rn!!!! i got called in last minute to cover for momo. i really am sorry :(((

you know it’s not mina’s fault, but your heart drops in disappointment nevertheless. not wanting to make her feel bad, however, you quickly type in a reply.

(7:05 PM) you: no worries, mina. i understand :) stay safe out there!

sighing, you’re about to place your phone on the small coffee table in front of you when your phone chimes again.

(7:05 PM) bestie #1 (mina)💞: i’ll make it up to you, promise!! can i send someone there to accompany you in my stead??

you feel your eyebrows furrow in confusion. you vaguely remember kaminari and sero talking about their patrol schedules shifting, and how they complained that they now have to cover friday nights.

kirishima’s currently overseas on a classified mission, although you guess it’s not as classified now, seeing as how he told you and the rest of the squad about being drafted in it.

which only leaves…

you shake your head. it can’t be.

mina knows you better than that—knows that out of the friend group, bakugou’s the one you’re the least close to, and you’re even convinced that the man hates you. you’re not entirely sure, but you’re starting to think he’s purposefully avoiding you—always choosing the farthest seat from you, and never attending hangouts when it was just the two of you and one other person.

he may be making it a point not to smile or laugh around you, too. which hurts, because of the unfortunate realization that mina arrived at a few weeks ago before you can even say hold up.

the realization that you may or may not have a stupidly embarrassing crush on bakugou katsuki.

so… scratching him out, who else could it be?

you’re in the middle of unlocking your phone to ask who she’s sending (because knowing her, she may be asking for permission now, but she for sure has already sent someone), when, as if on cue, a barrage of heavy knocks echo from your doorway.

you freeze.

that can’t be a mutual gal friend of mina and yours. not with the aggressive-ass knocking.

your butt remains stuck on the seat for a few seconds of silence, at least until the rapping comes back on and again, and you stumble your way towards your apartment unit’s front door.

it’s moments like this that make you wish you have a fucking peephole, but oh, well.

patting down your hair in a last-minute, desperate attempt to look presentable, you finally reach for the knob and open the door.

only to be met face-to-face with bakugou ‘it can’t be�� katsuki.

you literally feel your soul leave your body as you lock eyes with the man, who, from the get-go, is already frowning at you.

his eyes rove over your face. “don’t you look like shit?”

you can’t help but return his scowl to him even if you tried. “well, hello to you, too.”

the quip doesn’t seem to bother him, though, who only continues to study you. when they get to your eyes, however, his frown intensifies. “have you been crying?”

shit.

you forgot to check your reflection before you answered the door, but you bet there’s no lying out of this one, what with you crying non-stop ever since you got home—the second you closed the door behind you.

“yeah, well…” you start, rubbing your nape awkwardly. “i’m not sure if mina told you, but i got—”

“laid off,” he finishes for you, nodding. “i know.”

hearing it from another person’s mouth, let alone bakugou’s, sends a pang of pain straight to your chest all over again, and you have to fight the tears that are threatening to well up around the corners of your eyes.

“well,” he speaks up after a beat of silence, “are ya gonna let me in or not?”

you roll your eyes, although it’s more playful than anything, and bakugou catches you, to which he just scoffs. he enters as you hold the slab of wood open for him, closing it promptly as he crosses the distance to the kitchen in just a few strides, already familiar with the floorplan from the countless hangouts you’ve hosted for the squad.

and as he opens the freezer, you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when, as if reading your mind, he holds up two pints of what looks like ice cream for you to see. “brought your favorite.”

you beam at him. “aww, that’s so sweet of mina! thank you.”

at that, his face contorts in a look of offense as if you just unceremoniously pinched his armpit.

you frown. “what?”

he only shakes his head, although that pained expression remains on his face. “‘s nothing. sure, thank mina.”

“…okay? i just did, but okay.”

he tosses you a glare, which you just try to shake off. you’re sure comforting someone isn’t exactly part of bakugou’s repertoire, so you conclude it’s better to cut the guy some slack.

“you’ve eaten dinner?” he asks as he rummages through the rest of your refrigerator, most likely judging you for the lack of ingredients and fresh produce.

“yeah,” you respond. he doesn’t have to know that dinner was a cup of instant noodles you pathetically scarfed down in the convenience store on the way home. you figured you could treat yourself to a grand pity meal for getting laid off, but thought better against it. if anything, you needed to save money, at least until you get hired by another hero agency.

straightening up, he eyes you suspiciously as if sensing you’re hiding something. “you sure?”

you nod decisively, which you can only do because you’re technically not lying.

bakugou stares you down for a couple more seconds before nodding curtly himself, now looking absolutely stiff in the middle of your kitchen.

and as you observe the man, it hits you that you may have just robbed him of the only thing he knows when it comes to consoling a grieving person.

by cooking for them.

you’re not exactly hungry, but you can’t help but feel bad for the pro-hero as he stands there seemingly deep in thought, probably trying to figure out what to do with himself now.

you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you’re about to say.

“but you can cook—” you start.

“come work for us.”

“what?” you ask, the same time he goes: “huh?”

he’s the first one to regain his bearings. “thought you had dinner already? changed your mind, huh, dumbass?”

you ignore his snide pet name. “what do you mean come work for you?”

at that, bakugou shifts on his feet, shrugging. “you know what i mean. come work at ground riot. we have a vacancy that fits you.”

you gape at him. “you’re kidding me?”

to that, bakugou tosses you a deadpan look. “does it look like i’m kidding?”

you don’t have the heart to tell him he’s looking constipated, like he always does, so you keep your mouth shut. instead, you only stand there a few feet away from him, twitching as you desperately tamp down the visceral urge to kiss the man in glee.

he must be getting weirded out, because he only looks at you with an eyebrow raised. “the fuck is going on with you?”

“i—” you begin, clenching your fists.

here goes nothing.

“—just—i could use a hug right now, bakugou.”

“a what?”

you try to ignore the incredulous expression on his face, let alone the scarlet that’s starting to creep up his neck. “as a thank you. for the offer. and you came all the way here to comfort me, right? i could really use a hug.”

it takes him a beat to reply, mouth opening and closing and then opening again, until he settles with: “that’s pushing it, dumbass.”

despite yourself, you deflate at his rejection. you got too carried away by his generous offer and the fact that he’s here—that he went out of his way to accompany you and even bring you your favorite ice cream—that you ended up crossing a line you’ve never dared to cross until now.

you try to deny it, but it stings.

still, you muster as much of a good-natured smile as you can, adding a light-hearted chuckle to boot. “i was just joking…” you mutter under your breath.

at that, you turn your back against him, face flaming in embarrassment as you start to head toward the living room to fetch your phone when you hear him heave a deep sigh behind you.

and before you can even comprehend what’s going on, you feel something tug at your wrist, spinning you on your heel until you collide with a firm chest that can only belong to one person.

your eyes are wide as saucers when you feel his arms gently wrap around your back, pressing you further against him.

“happy?” he grunts, voice low and reverberating against you.

it takes you a second, but you can only nod from where you’re plastered right onto him, his cologne completely flooding your senses, sending your heart into a total frenzy.

so much so that you almost miss the way his is hammering like crazy, too.

[wadewnstonwilson]

need you close;

summary: when your busy schedule leaves logan feeling neglected, he craves your attention in his own way—by showing up with small, thoughtful gestures and lingering touches that hint at his pent-up need. despite his rugged exterior, logan’s vulnerability shines through as he tries to remind you he’s still there, waiting.

word count: 1k

a/n: okay so this was originally a headcanon idea but this was my most popular headcanon so I definitely wanted to post it as a one shot! always feel free to leave an ask if you guys want anymore logan themed headcanons or fics!

Logan wasn’t used to being ignored. Or at least, not by you. It had been weeks since you’d been swamped with work, and while you appreciated his support, you couldn’t help but feel the strain on your relationship. He’d never say it, not out loud at least, but Logan was needy, and he craved your attention like nothing else.

The soft scratch of a pen met your ears, but you didn’t even look up from your laptop. Logan stood by the counter, lazily scribbling something on a piece of paper. He’d been in and out of your office all day, never staying long but always making his presence known. His scent—musky, earthy, all Logan—lingered long after he’d leave. It used to comfort you, but now it only reminded you of the time you couldn’t give him.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Logan, I’m really busy.”

Without missing a beat, he crossed the room and placed a steaming cup of your favorite coffee on the desk. His fingers lingered, brushing against yours as he slid the cup toward you. You glanced up and caught the faintest smirk on his lips.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” he grumbled, leaning in closer. His warm breath fanned over your cheek, and you could feel the tension melt from your muscles, despite how desperately you needed to focus. “Been workin’ too hard.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrayed you. The way his hands rested on your shoulders—rough yet tender—sent shivers down your spine. He started massaging the knots in your shoulders, his fingers kneading the tension from your overworked muscles. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—missed him—until now.

“You need a break, darlin’,” Logan muttered, his voice low and rough, sending a familiar heat through your body. “Can’t have you burnin’ out on me.”

You chuckled, but the sound was weak. “I’ll take a break soon, I promise.”

Logan let out a soft grunt, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. But instead of arguing, he pulled back, leaving a small note on the corner of your desk before disappearing from the room. You picked it up, your heart softening at the sight of his messy handwriting: Missin’ you. Don’t forget to take a break.

For a moment, you considered following him. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But you had deadlines to meet, work piling up faster than you could keep up with. You’d make it up to him later—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The next few days were more of the same. Logan was always around, but never directly demanding your attention. He’d leave notes scattered around your workspace—short, sweet messages like Thinkin’ ‘bout you or We’re overdue for some time together. He brought you food, sometimes your favorite meal, other times just a snack to keep you going. He’d make excuses to touch you, his hands lingering on your back or brushing against your arm as he walked by.

But you noticed the shift. His touches were growing more possessive, more intense, as if he was trying to remind you that he was still here, waiting for you to give him the attention he so desperately needed.

One evening, you returned home from a long day at work, exhausted and drained. You dropped your bag by the door and collapsed on the couch, barely managing to kick off your shoes. Within seconds, Logan was beside you, pulling you into his lap without a word.

“Logan, I’m—”

“Shh.” His arms wrapped around you, and you could feel the weight of his need in the way he held you, so tight you thought he might never let go. “You’re always busy, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”

The frustration in his voice was clear, but so was the affection. He wasn’t angry—he was hurt. Hurt that you hadn’t been giving him the time he needed. You felt a pang of guilt as you melted into his embrace, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. His heart thudded steadily beneath your ear, a comforting sound that you hadn’t realized you’d missed. “I’ve been so caught up in work, I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizin’,” Logan interrupted, his voice softer than before. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Just... don’t do it again, alright? I miss you.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. Logan wasn’t the type to openly express his emotions, but the way he held you now—tight, protective, needy—said more than words ever could.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair. “I’ve been patient,” he muttered, his voice rumbling through his chest. “But I need you. Not just here, but with me. You get what I’m sayin’?”

“I do,” you replied softly, shifting to look up at him. His eyes met yours, and you could see the raw emotion swirling in them—jealousy, frustration, but above all, love. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”

Logan grunted, but this time there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I can forgive you, but only ‘cause I know how hard you’ve been workin’. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

You laughed, feeling the tension in your chest ease. “I’ll try not to.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart race. You could feel the heat of his need, the way he poured every bit of his pent-up affection into the kiss. It was almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I’m not gonna stop remindin’ you I’m here,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’re mine, darlin’. Don’t forget that.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “I won’t forget.”

For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to relax completely in his arms, savoring the warmth of his touch and the strength of his embrace. Logan wasn’t one to be needy often, but when he was, it only made you fall harder for him.

And maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you needed too.

[revelboo]

AAAHHH omg. Your writing made me fall in love with starscream. I love how much depth you give him as a character. You write him so perfectly 😍 I keep checking Tumblr every day hoping for more

Thank you!

… I keep waking up to 300+ notifications daily and you guys ask me if I’m okay… how about y’all- you guys okay?

Everything is Alright Pt 50

IDW Starscream x Reader

• Lying flat on his back with you sprawled on top of him, partially curled on your side because of his canopy, he vents softly and traces the tips of his servos up your spine. At least one of you can rest, because he’s just been staring at the ceiling, his processor racing. Knowing he’ll need to mass shift again to go on rotation. Also knowing it’s going to tap into his energon reserves because he’s done it too often lately. And it’ll be some time before he can have this again. Upping his energon consumption, stealing rations is too risky. With their stockpile already so low, it won’t go unnoticed and he can’t risk drawing Megatron’s attention. Can’t risk you.

• Finally, he has to reluctantly shift you, his spark warming when you try to bury your face against his neck with a sleepy sound of protest. Not wanting him to go. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he presses his lips to the top of your head and shifts you off of him, finding your blanket and dragging it over you as you curl into the warm spot he’s leaving behind. Sleepy eyes look up at him as he shifts to the edge of the berth, legs dangling and mass shifts back to his full size. “You can’t stay?” That soft question freezes him and he turns to run a servo down your arm, his touch lingering. Because he really can’t. Someone will come looking for him if he does and that mech can’t find you.

• It still takes an effort to leave you, to step out into the hall. “Primus, Star.” The words and tone startle him as his door closes behind him, before Thundercracker is too close, hands on him pushing him toward the washracks. Baring his denta, he almost stumbles as Thundercracker sharply vents. “I can smell you. Everyone can.” Spark freezing in his chest, he allows his brother to push him into the thankfully empty space. His wings angle up aggressively as he snatches a chemical cleanser and steps under the spray. Washing away your scent and hating losing it. “You- how? You mass shifted, right?”

• Glowering at Thundercracker, he tips his face up into the warm water. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Because the other mech can’t know what he did with you. How much you mean to him, so much more than a pet taken on a whim. If he knows the truth, that puts you in danger, a piece to be used against him.

• “I’m not judging,” Thundercracker mutters, stepping into the open stall next to him. “I, ah, took a human, too. I just didn’t think we could...” Shrugging his wings weakly, he trails off. “It’s just a surprise.”

• A secret for a secret? Why tell him about his own human? Or is it a lie to pry more information from him? Jaw working, denta gritting he tries to ignore the other Seeker, but he’s painfully aware of how long it’s been since Thundercracker had stopped reaching out to him. There’s always been so much to do and slowly their trine had drifted apart. Grew distant and he misses that sense of belonging. “You took a human,” he finally mutters under his breath.

• Thundercracker’s wings lift slightly. Happy. And Starscream does miss this, having the time to just talk to Thundercracker and Skywarp both. “How did you,” Thundercracker trails off again, a hand rubbing at the back of his helm. And he waits for the other mech to figure out what he wants to ask. “Yours likes you, right?”

• Wings bristling, he has to remind himself that it’s not a wholly inappropriate question. “I would hope so.” Wonders what Thundercracker thinks might have happened between you. What he assumes you are to him. A toy? Venting roughly, he scrubs at his plating, more aggravated that his brother might think that than he likes or will ever admit. “I take it yours doesn’t?”

• Grimacing at the question, Thundercracker’s vents. “We got along. I thought we did,” he mutters. “They’ve been upset with me ever since I took them, though.” Glancing over at his brother, Starscream wonders at those words. Had Thundercracker been visiting a human in secret, sneaking out just to spend time with one? How had that gone unnoticed? Because he’s been distracted with you, neglecting his duties. “I just wanted them with me. Happy and safe. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but their lives are so short and we were happy together, but it’s all wrong now.”

• And he freezes, because that’s not something he’d ever even thought about, the rest of the other Seeker’s words lost. Uneasy dread slipping about his spark as he turns to look at Thundercracker. His brother’s just being dramatic. He has to be. “How short?”

Previous

Next

[saccharinesatoru]

You're not scared... are ya? (m)

Pairing: non-sorcerer Gojo Satoru/Geto Suguru x reader (afab)

Genre: Ghostface/Halloween  + Smut

Word count: 7k

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween. But this year, you and your boyfriend, Suguru, are planning something a little spookier than usual… Who doesn’t love a good scare? You have to get in the Halloween spirit, right? Turns out, the trick is on you and the treats are for your boyfriend and his blonde-haired, blue-eyed friend who seems to like you a little more than a friend should… 

Warnings: uhhh i guess technically non-con…? It depends on how you look at it, i guess (let me know what you think so i can tag it appropriately), fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), throat f*cking, penetration (vaginal, f receiving), choking, knife play, blood play, biting and hickeys, threesome, kissing (satosugu (if you’re not down with that uh… sorry lmao maybe not the fic for you)), primal play, use of ghostface mask and chasing/hide and seek, degradation and praise, sensory deprivation/play (blindfolds, gags), bondage (f receiving)... i think that’s it lol oh and this is like 70% proof read I'm sorry I just wanted to get it out

A/N: sorry this is late ! i meant to have this out before halloween (at the very least), but the timing just didn’t work out

xx Jay

---

Halloween was easily one of your favorite times of year.

You loved the autumn season in general. From the colors of the leaves to the cool chill in the air, October in general had a special place in your heart. And it certainly didn’t hurt that the brisk weather gave you an excuse to cuddle up with your boyfriend, not that you really needed another reason in the first place. 

There was another aspect of Halloween you loved, of course…

“No way,” Suguru states. “I’m not doing that.”

He didn’t even look up from his phone upon your horror movie reenactment request. He continued to type away on his phone, no doubt texting his white-haired best friend whom he’s questionably close to. In fact, before you two got together, you were fully convinced your now boyfriend was dating his best friend, Satoru. You even remember the laughs they each let out when you finally brought up the matter. 

After many questions asked, Suguru confirmed he was, in fact, single. And the rest was history. 

Funnily enough, Suguru later confessed to you during one drunken night that he hadn’t made a move on you originally since he thought Satoru was interested in you too. When you tried asking him about it the next day, unsure if the memory was fabricated, he said he didn’t know what you were talking about.

But you can’t imagine life any other way. Suguru truly was your other half.

There’s only one glaring difference between the two of you when it comes to the Halloween season…

“I’m not dressing up in some ghost mask thing and chasing you around the apartment in the dark.”

Your boyfriend, ever the dream-crusher, didn’t share your same passion for horror movies. 

“It’s ghostface, Suguru,” you correct. “And, come on, baby. Don’t you wanna make your lovely girlfriend’s dreams come true?” When in doubt, go for the guilt trip. 

He just lets out a sigh and looks up at the ceiling in disbelief. 

“Baby, if you’re having dreams like those, then I’ll be chasing you to a therapist’s office instead,” he laughs. “Besides, what’s the appeal in this so-called “ghostface” stalking in the first place? Is this the result of some sort of repressed trauma I don’t know about?”

“Haha, very funny,” you scowl. “But, no, this isn’t about some secret, horrifically painful backstory. Think of it as… primal play.”

His neck snaps back down and catches your gaze.

 “Primal play?” he asks you incredulously with a gleam in his eyes. “How come you’ve never told me about this little secret of yours, hm? Next thing I know, you’re gonna be telling me about some piss kink of yours.”

You slap his shoulder, and he laughs at your disgusted expression. 

“Hey!” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “You never know! Maybe you shouldn’t knock it ‘till you try it! You’ll just have to explore that side of your sexuality without me… some sort of solo piss-centric masturbation.”

Slapping his shoulder again, you pull away from his side and look him in the eye. “I can’t really explain it all that well, but the idea of being chased and the fear of getting caught…” you trail off and lean to whisper in his ear, “It gets me so wet that I’m dripping.”

You don’t need to look at his face to know his eyes widen and his mouth parts at your comment. You’ve got him right where you want him now. Based on the weighted silence as Suguru processes your words, you know he’s just about folded like a house of cards. Chase you around in a ghostface mask? Hell, he might even shave his head if you asked him too (not that you would ever want such a terrible thing).

“Okay,” Suguru breathes out shakily, picturing you sopping wet at the mere thought of the primal play kink. “So… how would we do this?”

And just like that, the plans for your primal play ghostface dream fell into place. 

Close to 9pm on Halloween, your boyfriend left your shared apartment and agreed to return in roughly fifteen minutes in which time you were to set up for the scene by moving all remotely sharp objects out of the way, changing into the appropriate clothing, turning off the lights, and finding a place to hide. By the time the fifteen minutes were up, you would be receiving a phone call from your boyfriend. 

Once you had rearranged the apartment and changed into much shorter, might tighter clothes, you began turning the lights off around the shared space. However, you were startled when you heard a knock on the door. Confused, you walked over slowly and looked through the peephole. 

You let out a sigh and open the door to find Satoru before you. 

“Hey, Satoru,” you greet quickly. “Now’s not really a good time. Suguru and I-”

Satoru, eyes still glued to his phone, interrupts you, “Oh, yeah, I’m here to see him, actually.” 

You click your tongue at his rudeness. When it comes to moments like these, you remember why you choose to believe that Suguru’s drunken confession of Satoru’s underlying feelings for you had to be false. There are times when Satoru treats you more like a doormat than an actual person- let alone the girlfriend of his best friend. Although it does make you question if Satoru really did have feelings for you boyfriend after all… 

“No, Satoru, you don’t understand,” you begin. “Suguru and I have something… planned. He’ll be back soon, but we’re staying in tonight alone.” You be sure to emphasize the last part of your sentence. 

He finally looks up from his phone, and his jaw drops slightly as his eyes rake over your body. His brilliant blue eyes take in your bra-less chest covered by what has to be the world’s shortest crop top with your nipples poking against the fabric of the shirt. His eyes fall to your tiny skirt that hugs your hips tightly and doesn’t even reach midthigh. For the first time since you met the lanky menace, he’s actually speechless. You wave a hand in front of his face to snap him out of his trance-like state. 

“Satoru?” you question. “Did you hear what I just said?”

He closes his mouth and gulps before making eye contact with you. If you had paid closer attention, you would have noticed the bulge in his jeans grow larger just from the mere look of you.

Shaking his head, he puts his phone away in his back pocket. He clears his throat before asking, “What were you saying?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior. 

He’s a complete jerk when he interacts with you normally but now he’s gawking at your appearance? Makes sense why he can’t get a girlfriend. And it’s not like he’s about to pull Suguru as a boyfriend since he’s long off the market. Part of you wants to rub that in Satoru’s face whenever he acts up like this. 

“Suguru isn't home right now, but he will be soon. Once he gets here, he and I have plans. So, respectfully, you need to leave.” you reiterate with more force this time to fully get the point across. 

A.K.A. Fuck off, Satoru.

He scoffs at your attitude (as if it isn’t 100% warranted) and turns around to leave. “Fine,” he sighs in annoyance as if your simple request was a burden. “Tell him I stopped by, and next time…” His eyes meet yours again and a smirk is painted on his irritatingly handsome face. “Maybe wear more clothes when you answer the door. You never know what kind of perverts might be lurking around.”

You smile awkwardly at the comment and finally close the door, letting out a sigh. You thought he’d never leave. 

You jolt when your phone starts ringing and dash around the apartment to turn off the rest of the lights and scurry to your hiding place. Once you’ve quickly collected yourself, you answer the phone. 

“Hello?” you speak, excitement already on the rise at the thought of what’s in store for tonight. 

A dark, muffled voice through a voice modulator on the other end asks, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Smiling at the iconic line, you grip your phone a little tighter and hum, “I don’t know if I can pick just one. I love horror movies.”

You hear a chuckle. “Really? And why’s that, princess?”

Your cheeks heat up at the use of the pet name- not in the original script but still making you weak in the knees. 

“Hm… There’s just something about the feeling of being scared… To be honest, it gets more more worked up than it should.”

Your ears perk up when you hear the apartment door unlock, and you carefully peer around the room from your hiding spot in search of your masked boyfriend. Perhaps it’s because you’re in the dark, but he’s nowhere in sight. 

“Well, you’re in luck tonight, princess.” the silky voice practically purrs. “Because I’m about to give you a scare you’ll never forget.”

The line drops, and you listen closely for any sounds of movement throughout the apartment. You finally hear shuffling down the hall from your hiding spot and prepare yourself for the chase should you be caught.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sings, still utilizing the voice modulator to add to the horror element.

Eventually, your boyfriend steps into the room and proceeds to hum a song under his breath as he slowly looks around the room. Seconds feel like hours as you hold your breath, ready to dart away from your hiding spot if need be. You attempt to lean forward carefully- emphasis on “attempt” because a wooden plank beneath you groans at your small movement. 

His neck snaps toward you, and you can tell that even with that mask, he makes direct eye contact with you. You let out a little yelp as you dive out of the way of his attack. He’s on the ground after his attempted grab, and you rush out of the room in search of another hiding place throughout your apartment. 

You finally settle in a new spot and cover your mouth with your hand to silence your harsh breathing. It isn’t long before your boyfriend enters the room again and begins searching. 

“Fuck,” he exhales, “I can practically track you by smell alone, princess. You must be soaked, huh?”

You push your thighs together in a desperate attempt to pleasure yourself from the friction alone. It’s obviously not enough, but it’ll have to do as your boyfriend chases you through the apartment while dressed as a serial killer. 

“What a dirty little slut you are…” your boyfriend calls out, taunting you. “All this hiding and chasing has you worked up pretty good, huh? Why don’t you just come on out and let me take care of that problem for you, yeah?”

As tempting as the offer sounds, you remain silent and watch from your spot behind the furniture.

“No?” he asks in faux confusion. “Then I guess we’ll just have to do this the hard way. I love a good hunt.”

Surprisingly, you’re able to move to another hiding place quietly right as he was about to find you. Your luck ran out when you realized that in your search through the dark, you had ended up in the bedroom which only left two spaces to hide: under the bed or in the closet. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper in anger. “Could this be any more predictable?”

You quickly weigh your options and opt to slide underneath the bed quietly. Not too long after, your boyfriend walks leisurely into the room. This truly seems like a game to him. And here you were thinking he would be more timid since he had never engaged in any sort of similar roleplay before. 

He peeks around the room, giving it a mere once-over before stepping out. Thank god.

He really believed there’s no way you would be dumb enough to hide in such horrible spots. You’re both relieved and also offended in a way. 

There’s no time to contemplate further when hands wrap around your ankles and pull you from under the bed, making you scream. Once you’re fully emerged, he flips you over on your back and pins you on the floor of your bedroom. 

“Hiding under the bed?” he coos. “Princess, for someone who watches a lot of horror movies, I would have hoped you’d be smarter than that.”

“Get off me!” you shout. 

Even though you’re pretending to fight back, you know full well that even if you were trying with all your strength to push him off, he could still easily manipulate your body. 

“Oh, but this is what you wanted, right?” he asks as he reaches beside him and grabs one of his belts off the dresser. “Completely, utterly helpless.”

He makes quick work of your wrists, binding them together expertly with his belt. The belt wasn’t meant to be a part of the scene, but fuck was it hot. 

Once your hands are bound, he removes both of his black gloves and tosses them to the side. He brings his now bare hands to your collar bones that show from above your flimsy crop top. His cold hands brush against your skin, and he lifts up the fabric between his fingers. 

“This,” he begins. “is getting in the way.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s reaching into his pocket and brings out a switchblade. He cuts the clothes off of your body while you lay there in shock. 

“A switchblade?” you ask in confusion. “Suguru, where did you get a switchblade? That wasn’t part of our scene-”

He cuts you off by shoving his fingers in your mouth. 

“The only thing I wanna hear from this whore mouth is moaning, whining, and pleading,” he states firmly. “Or can a doubt slut like you not understand that?”

Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head. Not only did Suguru whip out a legitimate weapon (which neither one of you had planned), but he was talking to you in a way he had never done before. It was crude, cruel, and harsh. It was something you had never heard from him… but it was turning you on so much that you couldn’t even bring yourself to question the change in behavior. He removes his fingers from your mouth, now covered in your drool, and opts for shoving his discarded gloves into your mouth instead, effectively shutting you up.

“No bra, hm?” he questions as he runs the blade down your bare chest. “Good. Those nipples look even better bare anyways.”

Dragging the knife’s edge along your breast, you hiss as he draws faint amounts of blood. He lets out a groan at the sight and pinches one of your nipples with his free hand. You whine around his fingers at the dual sensation, pleasure and pain. Your wrists pull at your confines, and you feel the leather dig into your skin. 

Abandoning your chest, he moves his free hand lower down your body until he reaches the end of your skirt. With a quick flick of his wrist, he’s pulled up the fabric to reveal your bare cunt, glistening with arousal. Even in the darkened room, you know he can see your wetness. 

“And no panties too?” your boyfriend groans at the sight. “Well, it must be my lucky day. This pretty pussy was calling my name from the beginning, huh?”

Had you been more lucid, you may have furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his statement, considering you had mentioned to him before the scene what you planned on wearing. The thought flew out of your mind when you felt his long fingers collect your slick and move against your folds. You whine at the movement and try to clench your thighs shut at the for more friction.

“Nuh uh,” he practically sings and shoves your legs apart. “You’re gonna take what I give ya, and you’re gonna like it.”

At that, he plunges two fingers into you suddenly, not even giving time to adjust to the intrusion before he’s built a rapid pace. Your squeal is muffled by the black fabric shoved inside your mouth, but your sounds still echo throughout the apartment. You’re certain you’ll get noise complaints tomorrow- not that you cared.

While his middle and pointer fingers continue their brutal speed inside you, he brings his thumb upward to draw small circles on your clit which has you moaning impossibly louder. Your brain feels scrambled already; Suguru’s touch plus the anticipation of what’s to come has you shaking. 

“Who knew such a quiet, well-mannered little girl could be such a fucking slut,” he states with mock surprise. “Guess it just took some good finger–fucking to bring out your true self, huh?”

Even if you weren’t gagged, you wouldn’t be able to respond. The speed at which he fingers you has you delirious, and if you weren’t so laughably fucked out already, you’d be embarassed with how quickly you felt your climax approaching. Suguru feels you tighten around his fingers and laughs cruelly at you. 

“Gonna cum so soon? I thought a common whore like you would have built up a tolerance for someone touching this cunt…Guess not.” he laughs again.

 You can practically envision the sarcastic pout on his face from his tone. 

“But that’s more than fine by me, princess,” he says darkly and ups the pace on your clit. “Because I’m gonna have you cumming so much that you forget about any other man aside from me.”

The possessiveness in his tone sends you spiraling over the edge and you clench firmly around his fingers as your pitiful moans attempt to spill from the make-shift gag. 

Once you come down from your high, you’re met with your boyfriend holding up a blindfold to your face. You widen your eyes a bit at his actions since he hasn’t mentioned anything to you about using blindfolds when you were planning your scene. He’s certainly taking some creative liberties that stray from your original plans as well as the original Scream movie script. 

“What?” he cocks his head to the side, and you imagine his smirk beneath the mask. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.”

You glare at him, still blinking back tears in your eyes from your recent and powerful orgasm. You try to speak, but the words are lost in the gag. He probably rolls his eyes as he sighs and pulls the fabric from your mouth. 

You take a deep breath upon being freed from your muzzle and dare him, “Do your worst.” 

He chuckles at the taunt. “You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

He makes quick work of wrapping the blindfold around your eyes tightly, and you’re consumed by the darkness of the fabric. After he’s made sure you can’t see anything, you hear some ruffling of fabric, and you assume he’s removed parts of the ghostface costume. He’s silent for a movement, and you’re about to call out for him before you feel the familiar sensation of a blade along your thighs. You hear him groaning at the sight of you twitching and whining. Hissing at the sharpness of the blade, you feel some blood begin to trickle down your thighs. Leaning in, your boyfriend licks up the warm, red liquid with his tongue. 

You gasp at the filthy action and shamefully feel yourself grow even more wet. 

Before you have time to fully comprehend the dirtiness of your boyfriend’s actions, he latches his tongue to your soaking cunt, and you practically scream at the feeling. Your boyfriend has always been good with his mouth, but tonight feels… different. You can’t quite put your finger on what it is, but he’s displaying this near savage, depraved behavior that you had never seen from him before. You’re not sure if it’s for the scene or the holiday itself, but it’s turning you on in ways you had never experienced before. 

“Fuck, Suguru, that feels so good,” you whine. He lands a harsh slap on your cunt and you yelp. He practically growls against your pussy, and the vibrations ripple throughout your body, causing you to clench your toes and whine helplessly. 

You want so badly to run your fingers through his luscious hair, but the belt pinning your arms above your head keeps your hands firmly in place. 

Your body starts to shake as the sensations grow stronger once he attaches his mouth to your clit and sucks aggressively at the bundle of nerves. His hands grab hold of your hips and pull your lower body back onto the ground to keep you in place to experience the full intensity of his mouth on your mound. You clench your eyes shut and your face scrunches up as the pleasure increases and the knot in your stomach grows tighter. 

Aside from his groans, your boyfriend remains quiet. Although he’s usually quite verbal and talks you through the pleasure, your boyfriend’s uncharacteristic silence actually turns you on. It sounds sick, but it makes you feel more like an object for him to use rather than his girlfriend. 

“Oh!” you gasp as he shoves his fingers back inside you again. His skilled tongue coupled with his long fingers has your mind reeling. “I’m close! I’m so close, baby”

He moans again against your pussy and uses his free hand to drag his fingers along the shallow cuts he made on your thighs. You hiss at the feeling and feel your orgasm crash on you, making you moan so loudly you’re sure your throat will be raw tomorrow. 

Your legs are trembling as you come down from your high. Your voice is shaky as you mutter with a dopey, fucked out smile, “You always know how to drive me crazy, Suguru.”

He chuckles darkly at your comment and your blood runs cold when you hear in a cocky voice ask, “Crazy, huh?”

You freeze at the sound of the voice.

That’s not Suguru.

“What- what the fuck?” you yell. “Who the fuck are you? Get away from me!”

The stranger laughs again. “What? You don’t recognize me?” He leans in real close to whisper in your ear, “You’re telling me you’re not as obsessed with me as I am with you?”

Your eyes bulge impossibly wider as you recognize the voice of the man. 

“S-Satoru…?” you question in a meek tone. 

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” He jokes with a dangerous undertone. He caresses your face softly, and you flinch away at the contact. He sighs in disappointment. “What’s the matter, princess? You were crazy over me a few moments ago. You said so yourself.”

You pull at your restraints and shout, “Let me go!”

Although you can’t see, you assume he rolls his eyes as he covers your mouth with his large hand. He speaks with a calm tone, dismissive of your fear and confusion. “I don’t get what the big deal is, really. I mean, Suguru and I share just about everything. Why are you the exception?”

You wiggle aggressively under his touch and he sighs before lifting his hand. 

“What’s wrong with you? I’m Suguru’s girlfriend. I’m not some toy for you to play with. Now let me go!” you demand. 

Satoru scoffs at your comment. “Ugh, it’s always the same thing from you. Suguru this and Suguru that… How bout you show me a little love, huh?”

You can tell he’s smirking based on the tone of his voice. You continue to struggle to undo the binds restricting your hands. You try yelling for help, desperate for your someone- anyone- to come to your rescue. 

Satoru just stares at your pathetic attempts to escape. Before you know it, his hand slaps your cheek, making you gasp. You feel your skin tingle as the aftermath of the hit. 

Tears well up in your eyes as you cry out, “Where is Suguru?”

Suddenly, a warmer set of hands run up your arm. Your breath hitches at the touch, unsure what to expect next. 

You gasp again as someone leans in and whispers in your ear, “Looking for me, darling?”

Honestly, you could cry tears of joy at this point. “Suguru!” you yelp. “Suguru, please get me out of here!” Expecting to be freed from your confines, you wait for a moment before you hear your boyfriend chuckle. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?” he whispers. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself when another man was between those thighs. Satoru is quite skilled with his tongue, isn’t he?”

In another world, you would have asked how Suguru knew just how well Satoru moved his tongue, but your brain is too cloudy to question his statement. As fucked up as it is, you press your thighs together slightly at his comment. You try to be discreet so as to not give away how much the situation secretly turned you on, but both men caught the not-so-subtle movement and shared a smirk. 

Satoru began massaging your thighs lightly and swiped up a bit of the remaining blood to bring to his lips. He moaned at the taste. He swore that every part of you tasted good. 

Suguru spoke softly, “If you don’t want to continue, we understand…” he began. “But based on how desperate you are to have the sweet little pussy of yours touched, I’d say you want both of us.”

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips at your boyfriend’s words. Sure, Satoru was attractive. Hell, attractive would be an understatement. He and Suguru looked like they were sculpted by gods. But never in a hundred years did you imagine you’d fuck your boyfriend’s best friend. 

“You know your safeword, darling,” Suguru reminded you. “We won’t go any further unless you want to.”

You thought about it. On one hand, you should be beyond pissed for this fucked up “stunt” they pulled. But on the other hand… you couldn’t deny how much you wanted to try Satoru’s cock.

The idea of taking them both at the same time practically had your mouth watering. 

You gulped and muttered, “Y-yes.”

Satoru just raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Yes what?”

Whining, you spoke, “Yes, please.”

Both men looked at each other with sadistic smiles. That was the only sign they needed. They both understood the goal: ruin you. 

Suguru pulled the blindfold off you and tossed it to the side. “As much fun as that sensory deprivation was, I wanna see your whole face when we fuck you dumb.”

Satoru groans at the idea, “Fuck, I bet that pretty face of yours looks even better when your eyes are rolling back and your drooling from our cocks.”

Blushing at the comment, you try to turn away to hide your face. Suguru just laughs and grabs your chin, making you meet his gaze. ‘Oh, no you don’t,” he chuckled. “There’s nowhere to hide now, baby.”

He lets go of your chin and begins to strip his clothing. He pulls his shirt over his head and then swiftly removes his pants and boxers. His cock is already rock solid, and you try to conceal your whimper at the sight. Suguru hears you anyway and laughs at your desperation. 

You turn your face toward Satoru when you see him stripping out of the corner of your eye. Your eyes widen as he removes his clothes. 

Fuck.

Although your boyfriend’s cock may be thicker, Satoru’s is definitely longer. You almost scoff when you see how good he looks. Of course his cock would be as pretty as the rest of him is. He catches you ogling him and shoots you a wink. 

Before you realize what’s happening, your boyfriend lifts you up and puts you on your hands and knees to face him. He pumps his cock a few times as he looks down at your eager face and saliva soaked lips. He just laughs at your presses and teases your mouth with his thick cock. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks with a mocking pout. You hum as confirmation s you focus on his cock in front of you. Out of nowhere, you whine when he grabs your hair and tugs your face upward so your eyes meet his. “Remember your manners, baby. Look at me when I’m talking to you, yeah?”

You blink repeatedly and nod quickly. He scoffs at the action and speaks, “Words.”

You snap out of your daze and reply, “Yes, Suguru.”

He smiles at you and relaxes his firm grip on your hair. “Alright then, baby.” He exhales and caresses your face with his free hand. “Get to work.”

Wasting no time, you dive right in and take his cock in your mouth. His precum is sweet on your tongue and you suck thoroughly at the tip. He groans above you but clicks his tongue when you linger too long on the head. You take more of him in your mouth and begin to bob your head. 

You find a good rhythm with your mouth and tongue, but your gasp is muffled by Suguru’s cock when you feel something press against the lips of your pussy. Behind you, you hear Satoru groan. “Fuck,” he mutters in awe. “You’re so fucking wet that you’re dripping.”

You blush at his comment but don’t have much time to think about it before Satoru rams his cock into you. You would have screamed if it weren’t for Suguru beginning to gently fuck your mouth. 

Fuck, Satoru is huge. 

You already knew that from seeing him, but he feels impossibly larger now that he’s buried in your cunt. He lets out a loud moan at the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock and stills for a moment to collect himself. He hisses at your tightness. “If I knew you were this tight, I wouldn’t have waited so long to fuck you.” he confesses as he picks up his pace. “Hell, I would have taken you before Suguru did.”

Sweat begins to form around his hairline as he picks up his pace of fucking your throat. “Ha,” your boyfriend scoffs at his best friend. “Fat fucking chance. This golden pussy has been mine since day one. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Even if your mouth weren’t filled to the brim, you wouldn’t have been able to answer from how good it feels with Satoru fucking you. You just whine at his question. Your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy your boyfriend because he pulls out of your mouth abruptly and pumps his cock in front of you instead. You whine at the sudden loss and lick your lips to collect any remaining precum, desperate for another taste. 

“I asked you a question,” Suguru glared. “Don’t tell me you’re so cock drunk already that you can’t answer a simple question.”

You whimper at his statement and shake your head in an attempt to clear your mind and reply. When you finally open your mouth to respond, Suguru cuts you off by shoving his cock into your mouth once more. You choke at the sudden intrusion and try to maintain your breathing. You already feel lightheaded enough from the pleasure, but now the lack of oxygen is making your head even more fuzzy. 

Satoru begins fucking you with a fast and aggressive pace, moaning loudly at how good you feel. His cock reaches parts of you you didn’t even know you had. You moan around Suguru’s cock, and the vibrations add to his pleasure. He lets out a groan and fucks your throat with more intensity than he ever has before, as if to claim you in front of Satoru. 

“Ha. Trying to show off?” Although out of breath, Satoru scoffs at the sight. “Well, two can play that game.”

Satoru rams his cock into you with such power that it has you choking on Suguru’s cock even more and your eyes bulge at the sensation. You feel stuffed in a way you never have before. You thought the pleasure couldn’t get any better until Satoru reached between your thighs and began rubbing your clit in quick, circular motions. 

If you weren’t choking on your boyfriend’s cock, you would have screamed so loud that the cops may have been notified. Your moans and whines are muffled by Suguru, but you’re loud regardless. 

You look up at Suguru and make eye contact with the man. He laughs a bit, out of breath as well. 

“G-good girl, baby.” he stutters and moans. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You blush at the praise. Even when you’re being fucked dumb by two men, your boyfriend always knows how you make you feel special. 

Glancing downward, you see his stomach clenching and you know he’s close. You take a deep breath through your nose, and you push your mouth down to the base of his cock, gagging. He grabs the back of your head and holds you down for a few moments before letting you back up for air. As soon as you get a breath, he’s pushing you back down again. Tears are streaming down your cheeks at this point, partially because of your boyfriend’s large cock choking you but also because of Satoru’s unforgiving pace as he fucks you into the mattress. 

When you think things couldn’t get any hotter, you turn your head slightly to see Suguru lean forward, grab Satoru by the hair, and pull him into a searing kiss. You whine loudly at the sight.

Guess they really did have feelings for each other. 

Satoru whimpers and deepens the kiss. He brings one hand to Suguru’s hair to tug on the silky strands and pushes his tongue into his mouth. The kiss is messy and some of the spit from it drips onto your back. As Suguru pulls away from the blue-eyed boy, you feel Suguru’s pace stutter, he lets out a loud groan, and his hot cum fills your mouth. You choke again as the warm substance spills down your throat and overflows from your mouth. Suguru’s panting as he comes down from his high, but he grabs your chin before you can swallow his load. 

“Nuh uh,” he chuckles, “Open the mouth wide for me, baby.”

You do as he says and widen your mouth, drops of his cum dripping down your chin. He leans down, spitting into your open mouth. Your eyes roll back at the action and you whine. Laughing breathlessly at your response, he closes your mouth gently and hums, “Swallow every last drop, baby.” he smiles again with a devilish look in his eyes. “You’ve earned it.”

Following his instructions, you swallow his cum and open your mouth to show him you followed his orders to which he smiles at. Before you could close your mouth, you let out a particularly loud cry as Satoru hits your sweet spot, and he has you seeing stars. You’re too out of it to realize that Suguru has collected with his fingertip the cum that leaked from your lips. He brings his cum-covered finger to Satoru’s lips and while Satoru’s mouth falls open with a moan, Suguru promptly shoves his finger into Satoru’s mouth. 

The white-haired man widens his eyes in shock, but hums as he licks the salty substance off Suguru’s fingers. Satoru leans in close to you and whispers in your ear, “I’ve gotta say, your boyfriend tastes pretty good…” he pauses. “But he doesn’t taste as good as you.”

You gasp at his statement, and he leans in closer with his chest against your back. He’s so deep and so rough that it feels as if he’s fucking you like he’ll never get laid again. His desperation for you is dizzying. The idea that you have this man wrapped around your finger makes you impossibly more aroused. To think that the man who acted like he hated your guts was now whining and moaning shamelessly from being in your guts was a concept that made you weak. 

He groans behind you and looks crazed. “Oh, now that I’ve had this pussy, I’m never letting you go.”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes at Satoru’s comment as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. He’d let Satoru have his fun now, but you knew who you belonged to when all is said and done. And he also knew that Satoru was just as much a desperate whore for him as you are. 

You whimper at Satoru's relentless pace, and Satoru manhandles you into a different position. You’re now lying on your back with your legs raised and pressed against your chest. You scream at the new angle, and his cock is repeatedly hitting your sweet spot with every rough thrust of his cock. 

“Yeah, that’s it, princess,” he coos. “Take everything that I give ya.”

You can’t help but whimper at the praise. His fingers find your clit again and continue to stimulate the nub. A scream escapes you when he pinches your clit between his fingers. Although he’s panting, he manages to let out a dark chuckle at your reaction. 

“You like pain?” Satoru asks with a smirk although he already knows the answer. He knows you're too cock drunk to respond as you’re muttering nonsense and stuttering over your words. He leans closer to whisper in your ear so that Suguru can’t hear. “Well, Daddy can give you all the pain you want.”

Even in your dumb and delirious state, your eyes widen as you process his words and you whine loudly. You didn’t even know you had a daddy kink until Satoru uttered those words. All you knew was that you felt like you were going to explode at the rate Satoru was fucking you and that you were going to die if you didn’t cum soon. 

Laughing cockily at your reaction, Satoru brings his hand to your neck and squeezes tightly. His grip effectively cuts off most of your oxygen, and it has you seeing even more stars than you were a moment ago due to his fat cock. 

He pulls his hand away for a moment, making you whimper at the loss and wish his hand was still wrapped around your throat. Instead, he leans down and leaves bite after bite and hickey after hickey all over your neck and chest, effectively covering you in red marks. His smile is almost manic as he examines his work. In that moment, you’re just a doll for him to fuck, just a canvas for him to paint on. And if he weren’t planning on filling your little pussy to the brim with cum, he’d have painted your body with his load instead alongside the marks he’d left. Just as quickly as it left, he brings his hand back to your throat and practically chokes you. His other hand continues the never ending abuse on your clit, the bundle of nerves desperate for relief. 

Suguru raises an eyebrow at the scene, intrigued. He wasn’t ever that rough with you. But based on the look on your face, the tears in your eyes, and the drool from your lips, he knows that next time he fucks you, he’ll be sure to give it to you even rougher than Satoru. There’s no way he’s going to let his best friend brag about fucking you better. No one knows your pussy like your boyfriend does. He sits in a chair beside the bed and watches the two of you as his cock grows hard again. 

Satoru swears he’s never had better pussy in his life. How did he ever cum before your tight cunt was sucking him in? One thing’s for certain: Satoru’s not about to say goodbye to your pretty face and soaking wet cunt- not now or ever. He swears at the sensation and whines when he feels you tighten even more around him, signaling how close your orgasm is. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you manage to moan, tears freely flowing down your face. Satoru’s eyes darken at the sight and leaned over to collect the knife once more, releasing your throat. He brought the knife down to your boobs and made small cuts near the nipples. You let out a cry at the pain mixed with pleasure. Satoru then leans down and wraps his mouth around your nipple, using his tongue to suck the blood. “Oh my god,” you sob.

This sends you over the edge and you scream at the feeling of Satoru’s cock impaling you coupled with the sensation of pain on your chest. You’re sobbing now as Satoru continues this brutal thrusts, desperately chasing his own orgasm. “Fuck!” He curses loudly before he shoots his cum deep inside your cunt, and you scream once again at the pleasure. “Take it all, princess. You don’t wanna disappoint Daddy, do ya?”

You shiver and whine at his words. Satoru takes multiple deep breaths before he nearly collapses on top of you, and you’re both breathing heavily like you’ve run a marathon. You whimper as you feel him paint your insides white, and you wince when Satoru pulls out. Even in his post-climax daze, he looks at your pussy in awe as he watches his cum spill from your swollen pussy. You’re shocked out of your fucked out state when you hear your boyfriend clapping slowly as he walks across the room toward you both. 

“That was quite the show, Satoru.” Suguru whistles as he reaches the bed and stands beside you. You gulp as you look downward and see his solid length, as intimidating and hard as ever. Satoru looks up and meets Suguru’s gaze, a pussy drunk look on his face with blush to match. 

Your boyfriend smirks before yanking you toward him and spanking your pussy, making you yelp and quiver. “But I think I should show you how it’s really done.”

A Halloween with plenty of tricks and treats.

---

so... yeah! if you made it this far, thank you! I'm sorry if I missed you on the taglist I'm honestly not used to making one lol

taglist: @ami20019 / @ufoev3 / @that-bitch-whose-got-blogs @cccccccccccleo / @blissfuloni / @happymangospot @allofffmypeaches / @forest-fruits-jam / @avantismyname @c1-3ra

@loveitallxoxo / @aemonds-smelly-eyepatch-xoxo / @teacupwaifu

@aarronnie / @frstmn / @pricesssparkle-blog / @strawberrytwistz

@just-a-regular-gay-here103 / @tengenssock / @joonunivrs

[strnilolover]

NNN - chris sturniolo - you don’t need me

Chris was easily one of your bestest friends. Having met in high school through some mutual friends, you both had clicked with your similar interests. Your friendship easily carried into your adult years even after those same friends who introduced you fell out of the friend group.

It was always you and chris — chris and you. You stuck together through ups and downs, good times and bad times. There was hardly anything that could separate you two from each other — not even his brothers who you grew close too as well. You told each other everything — who you hooked up with, things you needed help with, everything.

But that all started to change when chris met her — scarlet. When they started officially dating is when chris seemed to become more distant from you, spending more time with her. Sure you didn’t mind much, considering the fact that she is chris’ girlfriend — he’d want to spend a lot of his time with her and you didn’t mind.

But what made you upset was the lack of communication on his end — never texting you to tell you if he’s busy or when he’s going to be. You just wanted to know so you weren’t trying to ruin the plans he may have already made — it didn’t help that scarlet wasn’t any good either.

So here you were, staring down at your phone, feeling the familiar ache when Chris leaves your message unread yet again. It’s been like this since he started dating her. You’d tried to stay supportive, happy for him when he met someone new. But the excitement quickly faded as she became less of a girlfriend and more of a wedge between you and Chris.

The first time you had noticed her attitude was at one of Chris’s hangouts. You had walked over, ready to grab a drink from the table when she suddenly stepped in front of you with a saccharine smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Oh,” she’d said, eyeing you up and down, “I didn’t know Chris invited… everyone.” She’d tilted her head in mock confusion, clearly implying you didn’t belong. You had brushed it off at first, laughing it away, figuring she was just getting used to Chris’s friends.

But it didn’t stop. Every time you were around her, she found ways to make you feel out of place. One night when you and chris had gone to dinner with a few friends, she slid up next to you while you were getting food, making sure no one was watching while she looked over at you as if she was inspecting you.

“Do you really need another plate?” she’d asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just… some people don’t know when enough is enough, you know?” her words dripped with malice, it made you feel uneasy.

The comment left you speechless, stinging more than you wanted to admit. But you kept it to yourself, not wanting to stir up drama. Chris deserved to be happy, and if she made him happy, you could put up with her snide remarks. Or so you told yourself.

One afternoon, you decided to meet Chris at a coffee shop to catch up, just the two of you, like old times. But when you arrived, she was there, sitting next to him with a possessive arm looped through his. Her eyes tracked you as you approached, a slow, mocking smile spreading across her face.

“Oh, you’re here,” she said, her tone dripping with false warmth. “Chris didn’t tell me you were coming. I thought this was, you know, our time.” the disgust on her face was clear, to you at least. A frown pulled across your face — why couldn’t it just be you and him without her?

Chris, oblivious as ever, just shrugged, looking between the two of you with an awkward smile. “I thought it’d be fun if we all hung out.” he said, his free hand coming up to run through his hair — a habit he did when he was nervous. You went to speak, lips parting but were quickly cut off.

She didn’t let you get a word in. “Actually, babe, I think we had plans later… but it’s okay,” she said, her gaze flicking back to you with a knowing smirk. “Maybe next time you can give us a little heads-up before you just… drop in.”

You forced a smile, feeling that familiar, nauseating sense of discomfort settling in as you took a seat across from the both of them. “Of course. I didn’t mean to intrude.” you muttered, quickly picking up the menu to order something — your talking plans were ruined.

After that, her taunts became a regular part of your life. She’d bump into you at parties, slyly insult your outfit or make snide comments about how “clingy” you were to Chris. And every time, Chris seemed too blind—or too charmed—to see through her sweet facade. It hurt, but you kept swallowing it down, determined not to let her get to you — and god was it a bitter pill to swallow.

One night, Chris invited you to another party at his place, saying he missed hanging out like old times. You had agreed, hoping that maybe — just maybe — this time would be different, maybe she’d lay off for the night. But when you arrived, you noticed the way she lingered by his side, whispering in his ear as her eyes flicked toward you, a glint of triumph in her gaze.

You managed to avoid her for most of the night, sticking with other friends and keeping yourself occupied with the drinks and the snacks the were laid out on the counter in the kitchen — or just busting yourself with dancing. But when you headed to the kitchen for another drink, she followed, cornering you by the counter.

“Funny, isn’t it?” she said, her voice barely masking the hostility beneath her smile. “You’re still hanging around like a little lost puppy. Does Chris know how desperate you are to get his attention?” her words left you speechless, stabbing you in the chest. Does she just think that’s all you are? — an attention whore?

You clenched your jaw, the anger bubbling up in your chest. “I’m not desperate for anything. Chris and I have been friends for years.” you gritted out, your words almost lost to the music — but you knew she heard what you said.

She laughed, tilting her head with a pitying look. “Friends, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “But here’s the thing. He doesn’t need you anymore. So why don’t you do us both a favor and stop acting like you belong here?”

You felt your face heat up, a mix of anger and hurt swirling inside you. Every ounce of restraint you had kept you from firing back. But it was getting harder to stay quiet, harder to brush off the blatant cruelty.

Instead of responding, you pushed past her — your shoulder shoving into her’s harshly, heading outside to get some air, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. It was one thing for her to be possessive or rude, but to imply that your friendship with Chris didn’t matter hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You went home early that night, ignoring the questions from friends and the puzzling look chris had given you when you got into your car and drove home. As you drove — you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact as to why she didn’t like you. You never did anything to her, you’ve been nothing but nice.

When you climbed into bed that night — your tears soaked your pillow, crying yourself to sleep.

A few days later, you finally decided to talk to Chris alone. You messaged him, asking if he could come over to your place to talk, and to your relief, he agreed. There’s a knock at your door sometime later — your body moving toward the front door. You take a deep breath, firmly gripping the door handle you open it, and there he was, standing with his hands in his pockets, a faint look of regret in his eyes.

Does he know?

You step aside, letting him slip in past you as he flashed you a smile. Closing the door behind you, you walk to the living room — chris following behind as he takes a seat on the couch next to you. He didn’t say anything for a moment — this look in his eyes that made you frown was hard to read.

“It’s been a while..” he muttered and you forced a smile, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to already spill over. “Yeah, it’s been a while.” You took a breath, steadying yourself. “Chris, I… I need to talk to you about scarlet.” you whispered, sucking in another deep breath.

His expression shifted slightly, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “What about her?” he asked.

You looked down at your hands, gathering your thoughts. “She… she’s not as nice as you think she is, Chris. She goes out of her way to make me feel like I don’t belong around you anymore. It’s constant.” the words made your chest feel tight — you can’t believe you’re even saying this.

He frowned, leaning back on the couch. “I think you’re overreacting. She’s never said anything bad about you to me.” he points out — his reply only making your tone harsher,

“Of course she wouldn’t,” you replied, frustration bubbling up. “She does it when you’re not around. It’s not little stuff, Chris. She’s cruel. She treats me like… like I’m just some random person getting in the way.” your voice strained, throat threatening to close up on you as you continued to hold back your emotions.

Chris looked away, shaking his head. “Look, I know she has a strong personality, but she wouldn’t just bully you for no reason. Maybe she’s just protective.” he tried to reason. You felt your heart sink, his words hitting you like a cold splash of reality. “Protective? Chris, I’m your friend. I’ve always been there for you. I’m not some threat.” you watched his face twist — he wasn’t understanding it.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know. It just feels like… maybe this isn’t as big of a deal as you’re making it.” you swallowed the hurt, nodding slowly. “Maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Maybe… maybe you just don’t need me around anymore.”

You stood up, tears slipping down your face now as you looked down at him, feeling like you were watching the end of something you’d held so close for so long. “Wait, come on, you know it’s not like that,” he protested, standing up a flicker of panic crossing his face.

But you just shook your head, forcing a smile through your tears. “I thought you’d have my back, Chris. I thought I mattered enough to you. But I can’t keep fighting for a place in your life when it’s this one-sided.”

He steps closer, reaching for your hand, but you pull away. The distance between you feels insurmountable, like an ocean too wide to cross. He’s standing right in front of you, and yet he’s never felt so far.

There’s a long silence as he looks down to the floor, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” he mumbled, a hand running through his hair — something you’ve grown so used to, but may not ever get to see again.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Chris — or her.” you whisper, feeling the weight of those words settle in your chest. His head raised to look at you — the reality settling into him. He knew — he knew what was happening and he feels so stupid for not noticing anything sooner, maybe you were right. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Without another word, you walked to your front door — opening it as you looked back at chris, his feet moving him slowly. You were still crying — your chest aching with pain as he got closer. When he passed by you, stepping onto your front porch — he looked over his shoulder.

“I love you.” was all he said before walking away. The words settling in like a final goodbye, the tears flowing harder than ever now. As you closed the door, you realized that this was you letting him go — maybe for good — leaving behind the person you’d once called your best friend.

© strnilolover

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Bed Snatchers

Simon had texted you that he had gotten home from Mexico about midnight. When you finished your night at the café you were careful to enter the flat quietly. You might still wake him with how jumpy he could be after jobs. Wincing as you lock the front door you remove your shoes as softly as you can, setting them on the floor instead of letting them flop like you normally would. Turning on the flashlight of your phone you dim it as much as you can and still cover it with your fingers to not disturb anyone that might have slid home with him.

More and more often the guys would come home with Simon. You were about to suggest everyone going in on a house rental together because at least then you were always guaranteed to have somewhere to lay down after work. Glancing into the living room you see a lump of a body on the couch. Stepping lightly into the room you think it’s John. A raucous snore rips through the room. Yep. That’s John.

Letting a pip of light peak through your fingers you see he has not blanket on. Once that problem is resolved you head toward your room. The door is cracked. Must be more than John who came home with Simon then.

Pushing the door open you see two bodies sprawled across your bed. Letting a tad more light shine from your phone you squint and see Kyle and Gary almost fighting for space on your bed. You let the smile that forces its way to your lips stay. Leaving the men to their sleeping battle you grab a set of pajamas and head into the hall bathroom.

Leaving the lights off, your phone light reflects off the bowl of the sink as you change. Dropping your clothes into your basket in the bathroom you move to knock on Simon’s door. Tapping lightly you wait. He would wake.

Less than twenty seconds later the door pops open, and Simon blinks in the dim light.

“The couch and my bed are both taken, can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Johnny is here, but there is room.”

Rubbing your eyes you follow Simon and turn off your flashlight. Simon puts a hand on your elbow, leading you into the bed before him. Pulling up the blankets you slide in until you run into Johnny, then back up slightly.

The touch must have woken him. Johnny reaches out and pulls you close.

“Ah, bonnie, no Simon.”

He is not wearing a shirt. You had never seen Johnny shirtless, but he felt warm and lightly covered with hair.

Simon climbs in behind you, settling an arm across both of you. Something about that tickled something in your brain but sleep already lulled you with her melodies.

When you woke it was because you were too warm.

Tucked tight to Simon’s chest you watch his hand drift across Johnny’s still-sleeping face.

“When did that happen?” You whisper, careful not to wake your sleeping friend. 

“This last mission. Mexico was…hard.”

“I’m happy for you.”

You really are, even if part of you yearns for every one of these crazy men to be yours always. That would be entirely too selfish. You were lucky to have them as you did, sharing kisses for luck and driving business to your shop. Selfish wasn’t a thing you could ever allow yourself to be. You didn’t dare ask for anything from them.

You had learned in your early twenties that you were asexual, much to the frustration of every partner you had. After a while you had stopped looking for any kind of romantic love, it was too twined up in sex for so many people that staying single was easier.

Simon pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thanks. When are you going to end up happy?”

The question stabbed you between the ribs.

“Who says I’m not?”

“You don’t have a partner, don’t most people want that?”

“Most people aren’t okay that I only want sex when I’m ovulating so, no I guess I don’t want that,” your voice rose a bit.

Johnny’s eyes slid open, taking in you tucked into Simon’s arms. The softest smile you had ever seen on the man warmed your heart to the point of pain.

“Morning lass, how did you end up here?”

His voice, morning-deep, taking some extra work to decipher.

“Kyle and Gary were sleep fighting in my bed. Simon at least has a king-sized mattress.”

“What time did you get in?” He blinked at you as if fighting waking.

“Three.”

He reached out and pulled you across the bed; Simon’s hands drifted with you.

“Simon is an earlier riser, stay here and sleep with me.”

Settling against Johnny was different than with Simon. Johnny didn’t seem to mind the full body contact, twining of limbs, or manhandling you until you sat just right in his arms. Snug against him, in the darkness of the blinds, you slid back to sleep, but not before feeling the bed dip as Simon placed a kiss against your temple and Johnny’s lips. He left the room quiet as a mouse.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 34:

He pulled the first card, looking at it before he turned it so Agatha could see it too. "The Horse Drawn Carri..."

"The Chariot?" Agatha interrupted him, clearly wanting to get this over with. Plus, it was clear that Billy was not as knowledgeable about it as he claimed to be. "It's literally written on the card."

You looked at your lover. "Let him do it, Agatha. Unless you want to give it a try, " you scolded, knowing fully well how she looked down upon the tarot cards and tarot reading in general.

She would often call it lesser magic or circus tricks.

"Fine," she mumbled and motioned for Billy to continue.

Billy cleared his throst. "Right. So, obviously, you're

leaving somewhere behind, and you have these sphinxes with you, and they represent your... your... mysteriousness."

Agatha placed her elbows on the table and interlocked her fingers before resting her chin on them. "You have a real gift."

"This card hasn't really come up much for me." He confessed and placed the card on one of the carved empty spaces.

Immediately, the sound of metallic objects clanging with one another made you all look up; only then noticing the dozens upon dozens of hanged swords; attached to the ceiling by some sort of string?

You were not sure.

You could not see any details from that distance, but you were quite sure they were not props or fake. Something was telling you that they were real and very sharp swords, positioned in a way that would finish off any one of you.

Billy shallowed hard. "I'll try another one." He drew the next card. "Seven of Swords."

You could not help but scoff faintly. "At least you're on theme." You commented and earned a look from him, clearly not happy with your words. "Sorry," you apologised and gently lifted your hands up as a sign of surrender.

"I know this one. It's about deception and betrayal." He started to explain. "But it's reversed.

So that means the opposite. Are you being truthful?" He questioned and looked at Agatha.

He clearly did not believe her to be saying the truth cause well... she was Agatha Harkness. She won nothing by being honest, and Billy doubted she had ever been, at least with him.

He wasn't sure about you, but considering how you did not expect her visit back then, when they were gathering coven members, and this odd tension existing between the two of you... it was wise of him to assume that you hadn't talked in a while.

And he did wonder if you were even together or had this strange former romantic bond; like how Agatha seemed to have with Rio.

Agatha grew bored of this, not liking be judged or having cards trying to expose her in any way. She had been trying hard to keep that mask, that facade of a tough woman that cared for nothing other than herself.

She couldn't let a few stupid cards ruin that, and she wasn't going to let it happen.

"You know what, I think I will do it instead. My turn." She grabbed the card stack from Billy.

He tried to hold it back, but he was too slowly, and he quickly lost possession of it.

"Agatha," you started, feeling that this was about to turn into a really bad idea.

"Oh, don't you worry now. Tarot is a con like any other, remember?" She asked rhetorically, clearly not sharing your worries or caring about the rules. She never did. "There's no magic to it. There's no skill."

"That's not true." Billy argued. "It's about intuition.

Knowing which card to pull. And it's about interpretation, divining their meaning."

She paid him no mind as she grabbed one random card and placed it on top of the Chariot that he had pulled before.

Suddenly, one of the swords that was hanging from the ceiling was let loose. It pinned itself into the wooden floor, little too close to Billy for his liking.

You looked up with fearful eyes, losing count on how many swords were up there. Worse was the fact that they were so evently spread that it would be impossible to find a spot and be safe.

Agatha placed another card down and then another, clearly just doing it like that and not using any magic or intuition as one should.

She even cackled like a true evil witch as more and more swords started to fall, some closer and some further away from you.

"Agatha!" You called out her name as one sword landed too close to you, making your heart increase in beat at the fact that had you been stabbing one step to the left; you would not be alive and breathing right now.

Your shout made her stop, seeing you eyeing the sword with fear in your eyes. A quick check made her realize you were unharmed, and that was enough.

"Slow down! What is your problem?" Billy shouted, having moved from his chair to avoid a sword that almost hit him.

Agatha looked at the fearful duo. "This is a numbers game. We keep at it until we get the right cards in the right spots or the ceiling runs out of swords."

"This won't work, Ags," you said, shaking your head faintly to emphasise your disagreement.

"I'm not sure how much math you did back in Salem, but that will take forever." Billy argued.

"We still have some time."

"I wish Lilia was here."

And as if the Road had heard him, once again, it happened. The bookcase behind you was pulled open, and Jen with Lilia entered the room; their outfits also changed to fit the trial's theme and mood.

Jen had been affected the most with her evil queen hag outfit, coming along with grey big eyebrows and a nose; an enjoyable sight for you after all the times Jen's attitude had tested your pat

Lilia, on the other hand, seemed to be some sort of good witch based on her outfit; though you could not tell for sure.

What you could tell for sure was the fact that something was going on because Lilia was switching moods.

For example, how, at first, she said she was okay with Billy; holding no grudges, and then... she flipped.

She pointed a finger, harshly pressed against his chest. By instinct alone, Billy started to walk backwards, and Lilia simply kept advancing.

"Whoa! Ow! I thought we were cool!" He exclaimed, eyes daring to glance at you and Agatha for help.

"We are not cool, Teenager." Lilia said, surprising both Jen and Yoi.

"Damn, using his full name." Jen commented, and you nodded silently.

"She is definitely angry, " you commented next.

Lilia was always the calmest, even her threats being of a low tone; which was what was so unique about her.

This time, though, you could see the fire behind her eyes, and even you would not dare to stand in her way.

After all, one would be wise to fear the calm people when they stopped being calm. It was always them that held the most destructive rage.

Ironic, for the same had been told about you; at least until people realized you were never calm. You simply expressed your worry differently or passed phases when you were indiffirent to everything; the world around you sliding off your body and nothing capable of sticking on you.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. You didn't deserve..." Billy started to apologize. "I wasn't hiding my power from you. I didn't know that I could... I'm not lying to you.

It was a surprise to me, too... if I'd have known, I would've..." he paused for a moment as his telepathic abilities started to work. "Yes, of course, I would have used it to save Alice."

Lilia looked at him, trying to study him behind her aged but expeencd eyes. "You're reading my mind." She picked up.

"Only because it's so loud. No offence." Billy offered a weak small smile to show he had no ill intentions.

And as Lilia started to remember how she had met Billy before, as William; you chose to interfere.

"I don't want to ruin any reunions, but we need you, Lilia," you said, moving to stand close and use your hands to separate them faintly. "This is your trial, and either we do it right, or we can kiss our lives goodbye."

[rinachains]

this is a life

wc: 4.7k

contents: no curses au; geto x fem!reader; angst, fluff; brief mention of diets, implied child abuse; mental illness, smoking, alcohol consumption; reader is in an established relationship with someone else, geto is an elementary school teacher; he's lowkey giving reader a therapy session here; very loosely inspired by *that* scene from fleabag

a/n: this turned out way longer than i originally planned, lol. comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! divider credits: @/saradika

“And guess what happened after that?”

The woman across from you leans against the table, all eyes on her, waiting for a big reveal.

“She thought he was her friend’s father and not her boyfriend!”

Laughter erupts, a song of shrieks and booming echoes, and in the midst of it all, you sit with your mouth shut, wondering if their reaction is a product of consumed alcohol or an inside joke you weren't allowed in on.

Your boyfriend puts his hand on your knee – nearly slaps it – as his body shakes from laughing, swiftly glancing towards you.

You meet him with a strained smile.

“We’re talking about an old classmate,” he explains to you between labored breaths after he calms down.

“Ah, really?”, you say, dryly. Your voice is distant, lacking the interest he was hoping you’d respond with.

The red wine you’re sipping – an expensive one that your boyfriend specifically bought for this occasion – leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you believe it might etch your tongue away. You don’t like red wine, or any alcohol in general – you drink it more out of obligation than out of true enjoyment. It always leaves you with a wave of nausea the next day, no matter how much or how little you consume. There was at least the hope that the alcohol would loosen the tension in your body, make you open up; however, to your luck, it appears to have the opposite effect.

You’ve never been more aware of your body and your surroundings before; the clatter of dishes and the breaths you take through your nose ring in your ears.

There are only five people at this table; your boyfriend and his three friends from his old university days. And you.

You’re already familiar with two of them, but the third one, the other man sitting to your right – Suguru Geto – is someone you’ve just met for the first time tonight.

(‘By the way, another friend of mine will join us tonight,’ your boyfriend told you this morning as you got ready for work

You held back a tired sigh.

‘Another friend from university?’

‘Yep. Suguru Geto is his name. Cool guy, pretty close friend, we used to hang out a lot. He recently just started working as an elementary school teacher. Good for him, I guess,’ he explained as he buttoned up his shirt.

You didn’t miss how his tone dripped with the slightest bit of condescension when he said that last part.)

“By the way, my cousin dropped his new major,” his other friend says between bites, as he chews messy.

The noise makes your skin crawl.

"Again? Didn't he say this major was going to be 'the one'?" your boyfriend scoffs. 

"Yeah, some people just don't have a plan in life, it's kind of pathetic. Right?"

For some reason, his friend decides to look at you for confirmation. You don't respond, and your boyfriend puts his hand over yours before things get uncomfortable.

"Excuse her, she's just a bit shy."  

He laughs, again. The other two join in. Geto doesn't.

I'm not, you want to say. Your boyfriend always says that you're shy, but you're just quiet, more reserved, and he just keeps mistaking your reserved nature for shyness. You hate it; you feel the need to defend yourself, but you'd feel like a child, annoyed by your parent and overreacting.

However, he does talk about you as if you were his child or his pet, reluctant to interact with other people, still learning what it means to socialize properly, and he guides you on your shaky legs.

It’s no big deal, the voice in the back of your head whispers, you should be more grateful.

Yet you’re dealing with a clash of gratitude and buried guilt; guilt for that hidden monster of resentment that lurks somewhere deep inside of you, underneath the muscle tissue and ribs, waiting for the perfect moment to burst forth, tear through your body and cause terror.

It’s easier to blame this feeling on your inferiority complex - after all, you are your own worst enemy.

Your boyfriend leans in from his seat next to you, his lips brushing your ear as he mutters, “Let’s relax, okay? Tonight’s going pretty good so far.”

“Right,” you mouth back. Your voice not strong enough to vocalize that singular word. You try to muster an enthusiastic smile, you really do, but the corners of your mouth seem stuck, unwilling to rise any higher. They ache, and your cheeks begin to cramp. Your boyfriend gives you a sloppy kiss on the cheek – seemingly pleased with your response - before resuming his conversation about the past.

(they do a lot of talking about the past while you try to remove its bonds from your hands and feet.)

As your boyfriend turns away from you, you sense a tingling sensation, burning into the side of your face. Discreetly, you try to peer out of the corner of your right eye, only to be met with a piercing stare from Geto. You freeze, like a deer caught in the headlight, even though he’s the one who’s been caught. He leans further back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, not breaking eye contact. You avert your gaze after what feels like minutes.

A feeling of awkwardness rushes through your body as you take another sip of your drink.

What’s his problem? Did he hear what your boyfriend whispered to you?

Ignore it, the voice says again. So you do. Or at least you attempt to.

Despite your aversion to alcohol, your glass empties quickly, so you have a second, and before you know it, you're on your third.

The others continue to discuss their jobs, finances, families, future plans, politics - this is what normal, functioning people must talk about, you muse as you swallow a big gulp.

Once a layer of fog has settled over your vision, you realize the effect everything has on your body - it's as if you're not quite here.

You're in your apartment, the place where you live, at the table where you eat every day, and yet somehow you feel as if the place you're sitting in is reserved for someone else. An intruder - maybe that's what you are for tonight.

(but is it really just for tonight?)

You sit there, taking in the spectacle around you, until the image in front of you begins to swim, a blur of colors and shapes; now you're a background character, nameless and following the instructions of the script, watching the main characters interact - with their lively attitudes, ambitions and achievements, and overly complicated problems - while you do as little as possible. Your only purpose is to emphasize how important and memorable they are. Easily replaceable. Not worth paying attention to, not worth remembering; what a cruel role.

Then, with a painful blink, you're back in reality. But you realize that it wasn't some oddly vivid dream and that you weren't actually transported to another reality - you were here, at this table, in this seat, all along.

"Yes, I'm currently following this diet and workout plan," one of your boyfriend’s friends announces with an exaggerated sigh, and she quickly turns to you, giving you a half nod, "if you want, I can give you some details about it."

The look you give her is blank. Your raised glass lingers against your lips as you are about to take a sip.

Before you have a chance to answer this time, she turns back to the others and babbles on about some other topic.

You put the half-filled glass back on the table, your thirst now gone.  

"Ahh, I really don’t know how you can stand being around children every day, Suguru. I almost lost my mind watching my niece for only three hours!", she practically whines as she addresses the man next to you.

Geto answers with a chuckle, though it sounds strangely empty, as if something is missing.

"I also deal with a lot of adults, you know, other teachers and parents. And I can say that there isn't much difference between them,” he replies, “At least children don't know any better yet. Adults, however, choose not to do anything about their lack of…competence."

Again, a repeated round of laughter. Geto wears a mere placid smile.

"You’re not wrong, you’re not wrong. God, some of our clients are so incompetent, I sometimes wonder how they’ve made it this far in life.”

In the last two hours, you’ve learned: Geto isn’t particularly talkative, at least compared to the others.

However, he seems fine with it, sipping his drink unhurriedly and responding smoothly when spoken to. He exudes a confidence and carries a casual demeanor that a small part of you can't help but envy, for how often do you wish you weren't the way you are?

So you just sit there, lost in your own thoughts, accepting defeat for the situation you're stuck in.

“Have you heard about–“

Another clink.

“No way, that’s actually sad–“

Another loud chew.

“Guess who decided to contact-“

Another giggle.

At this point, the conversations have turned into a hectic game of tennis, the ball going back and forth between them, and you’re trying to follow it, maybe even graze it with your fingertips, but you can’t seem to catch it, it’s too fast, too-

"So, what do you do?"

You blink. Once, and then twice.

You turn your head to the right; Geto’s eyes are focused on you.

They're purple, a deep, gem-like shade, you note. You’ve never seen eyes like his before.  

His brows raise slightly and you realize that he’s expecting an answer.

"I…I work in a library. And I write. Or, well, at least I'm currently trying to."

A grin tugs at his lips; saccharine and foxy. For a moment, you fear he might eat you alive.

You’re not even aware that the other three have halted their conversation and are now paying attention to you and Geto.

"Oh? What are you planning to write? If you don't mind me asking."

You don't.

"Just a bunch of short stories," you answer with a shrug as you pick at the skin around your nails, "A big story is kind of intimidating, to be honest. I want to start small, it’s easier that way and I don’t have to put all my focus on one idea..."

Your voice loses its volume towards the end - a force of habit. Geto tilts his head and you believe to see a small frown appear for a second before it vanishes quickly. Replaced by his thin smile.

He shifts his body towards you, cheek resting against his fist. A flutter of his long lashes.

"You know, I once considered writing a book too.”

One of your brows lifts in wonder, "Really?"

“Hmh. A children’s book – for my students.”

“Are you still considering it?”

“I haven’t had the time for that yet, so I haven’t really done something for it.”

“Maybe you should have a mental breakdown too. ‘Gives you enough time to get real creative.”

Of course, right in this moment, your tongue decides to get loose. Surprise flashes across Geto’s features, clearly caught off guard, and you hear your boyfriend inhale sharply. You don’t even have to face the other two to know that they exchange looks.

What you said is wrong. It's always either right or wrong, right or wrong, and your teeth grit together, because why can't you just simply say things without them being right or wrong?

Suddenly, a low, muffled chortle reaches your ears. It grows louder, bordering on a genuine laugh, and you stare silently at the man next to you, the source of the sound.

Geto’s eyes form into crescent moons, and you become a shooting star, seen by chance, admired for the special moment you provide.

“I think I’ll pass. But many famous writers did create their works during hard times.”

You scratch along your neck, unsure of what to do with your fidgeting hands.

He continues, "Maybe we should switch roles for a day - I'll try writing and you can try teaching my class."

"Ah, I could never be a teacher, I'm not patient enough, I'm afraid," you say sheepishly, the tension in your face softening.

"I admit it's not always easy, but it's worth it to see the result of your patience. Besides, I had some practice before I started my job."

Your mouth opens, ready to ask another question, but then your boyfriend places an arm around your shoulder and squeezes it hard, as if he’s warning you. You have to stifle a yelp, his fingers digging a little too deeply into your skin.

“Maybe you should go easy on the wine, huh, babe?”

The thought of shaking his hand off flashes through your mind, but your body doesn't listen. Instead, you allow his grip to remain until he withdraws of his own accord.

His face screams jealousy – and maybe he is jealous, but he probably just wants everyone, including himself, to think he’s a protective and possessive boyfriend. He doesn’t have enough care in him for that.  

You used to believe that he did. Or at least you told yourself that – because he was the one who has pulled you out of the deep hole you were stuck in.  

He was the one who shook you awake and made you stare at yourself from a third-person perspective - and all that ran through your head was the word 'pathetic'.

Almost two years ago, you dropped out of university. You were at your lowest point, your mental health non-existent, and you had nothing and no one. And out of the blue, he showed up - with his sweet words and boyish charm. You had never received attention before, and suddenly there was someone, this handsome man, showering you with it.

He embodies the definition of ‘normal’, an average man - not someone with a dark past, a tortured artist, or a menace to society. He oozes the stability you needed during that time.

But you couldn't do anything about the doubts you had from the beginning of your relationship, because why would a man like him be with someone, a nobody, like you?

Sometimes he'd give you disappointed looks when you did something you usually did instead of what he thought was better. Sometimes being with him made you even more aware of what was wrong with you. Sometimes the normalcy you so desperately seek makes you feel like an abnormality.

You couldn't help but see him as your savior, someone who has achieved something so painfully average that you could only dream of. And he gives you that normalcy - at least you're on your way to it. However, the path seems endless, littered with ditches and spikes and numerous other obstacles that make you reluctant to continue.

Perhaps he thought of you as a fruit, not yet ripe, attracted by the potential sweetness, able to satisfy a certain hunger. But every fruit eventually begins to rot, no longer edible, and quickly discarded.

‘I don't deserve this,’ you told him once as you packed your things to move into your new shared apartment.

(one he'd picked out, claiming it was perfect for both of you).

Your confession tasted like honey in his mouth. He just gave you a little grin, nothing too big, so as not to show how his pride was swelling in his chest.

He didn't disagree with you.

After a few minutes, you feel a familiar itch in your hand. You start to get up, your boyfriend gives you a questioning look and you nod towards the balcony. He eyes you with disapproval, but you grab your jacket before you can change your mind and comply.

Every time you smoke in his presence, his nose wrinkles in disgust and words of complaint come out of his mouth. You’d take it more seriously if he didn't smoke himself.

Once outside, you put on your jacket and sit down in front of the steel bars of your balcony, next to some empty flower pots.

You haven't done anything, but you're exhausted.

The cool breeze on your face reminds you of drinking a cold glass of water after waking up in the middle of the night. The pain in your head is simmering.

The nicotine intensifies the bitterness in your dry mouth as you pull out a cigarette and take a long, long drag. A light, pleasant burn that awakens your senses in a non-overwhelming way, sobering you up a bit. Your shoulders slump, a pleasant shiver runs through your body. You needed this.

The sound of the balcony door opening makes you jump, the cigarette between your fingers almost falling down. You turn your head over your shoulder, expecting to see your boyfriend, preparing yourself for a scolding; but it's Geto. You can't tell if the emotion boiling in your chest is disappointment or relief - at this point, they've merged.

“I hope you don’t mind the company.”

You shake your head. Not too eagerly, you remind yourself.

One corner of his mouth lifts up, his gaze sweeping discreetly over you without you taking note of it, and he places himself on the other end.

There’s a good distance – intentionally - between the two of you, neither of you daring to cross it. A wall, set in stone, and the temptation of climbing it to peer over the edge lingers in the back of your head.

“Are you enjoying dinner?”, you ask him, scratching your cheek with your nail. You suppose that’s what a good host does.

Something you can’t quite identify glints in his eyes, and you can tell that he’s suppressing a chuckle. You feel the tips of your ears warming.

“I am. It’s more entertaining than I expected.”

You raise your brow at his answer.

"Hmh?" you see him pulling out a lighter and gesture to your pack of cigarettes, "Oh, you want one too?"

Geto dismissively waves his hand and takes his own pack out of the pockets of his black coat, "No need, I have my own.”

The way he lights the cigarette and brings it up to his lips paints a graceful picture, a fluid sequence of quick, minimal movements, and you can’t bring yourself to avert your stare.

He's handsome, you think. A unique but pleasant kind of beauty, a mixture of feminine and masculine features. This thought came to you the first time he appeared in your vision; you could admit it, but you don't allow your thoughts to go any further. You can't tell if it's out of compulsion or out of respect for your partner.

As he blows out the smoke, he says, "To get back to what I said: I wasn't sure what to expect tonight. The thing is, I'm not, or wasn't, that close to your boyfriend, so I was surprised when he invited me... I guess some people just have different perceptions.”

“He claimed you’re his friend,” you retort, confusion laced in your voice.

“Then he must have a lot of them, if that’s all it takes.”

You press your lips together, swallowing the grin that threatens to break across your face.

Geto clears his throat, "I was surprised to meet you, though.”

You cock your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

The expression he carries is a strange combination of hesitation and determination, "He didn’t mention you when he invited me."

Oh. Right.

"He hasn't?"

The answer is written on his face, you don’t need another verbal confirmation. 

Your back straightens, your shoulder rolls back as you exhale heavily.

"I mean, why would he? It's not something he has to say."

You don't know why you're defending him. Maybe it's because you want to defend yourself, too.

"I just find it interesting that he didn't tell me about you when he invited me. I mean, if I invited someone to my house for dinner, I would definitely mention my partner. But maybe we have different views on that.”

Your headache begins to return.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say instead of lingering on the subject, trying to distract from it, eyes flickering between his face and the balcony railing, “back there. You mentioned something about already having practice before becoming a teacher.”

At that, his face brightens subtly, something you’re able to catch in the dim lighting. He sits up and brushes a silky strand of hair from his face.

“I did. I adopted two daughters before I started working there – Mimiko and Nanako are their names.”  

“Those are pretty names,” you say, hiding your surprise at the fact that he’s an adoptive father – seems like your boyfriend truly isn’t that close to him, “not that there’s anything wrong with it, but why did you decide to adopt them?"

"I interned at an elementary school before I knew what I wanted to do. It was fun, exhausting, but I learned a lot. But it was there that I noticed something wasn't quite right," Geto tells, a frown beginning to appear, "there were these girls - well, they're my little girls now. Mimiko and Nanako were quiet, well-behaved, but too docile for my taste. I found it strange, and when I asked around, the other teachers just told me to be happy about it, that it's a good thing. But then I started noticing the bruises on their arms and the way they would flinch when someone got too close or raised their hand. You can probably guess what that means.”

You swallow, subconsciously mirroring his frown.

"Anyway, I reached out to them and although it took some time, they finally opened up to me and told me everything. I went to the police and luckily they took action and got them out of that hellhole," the words spit from his tongue like venom and you're not sure if the sickness in your stomach is from the alcohol or what he just told you.

“How old were you?”

“I was 17 at the time.”

The way your eyes grow in size and your brows shoot up must be a comical sight for him.  

“17? That’s so young!”

“It is. But it felt like the right thing to do,” he runs his hand through his dark locks, an exhaustion that is more than familiar to you, "I mean, I couldn't take them in right away because I was a minor. They put the girls in a children's home where I visited them regularly. When I turned 18, I didn't wait a second to sign the adoption papers."

Your lips purse, "It must have been a complicated process."

His eyebrows draw together, a melancholy weariness settling over his sharp features, "Oh, it was. I came pretty close to losing my mind. But it was all worth it; if I had to, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."

The way Geto talks is soothing. Comforting, like a blanket being laid over your shivering body, and you sink into it, relishing the warmth it provides.

“You really are a good person, Geto.”

He leans his head back against the wall, “Funnily enough, you’re the first person to tell me this. Most gave me weird looks for it. Even my friends berated me for being too impulsive, but I couldn’t do nothing.”

“It’s admirable. And other people’s judgement doesn’t have to be the final one,” you say, pointedly, “…So that’s why you decided to become a teacher, huh?”

He nods, “I believe it’s our responsibility to teach children everything. Not only the basic subjects, but also how to behave, how to socialize. And how to ask for help.”

You wonder what Geto would have done if he had met you during that time. Would he have helped you? Would he have given you words of encouragement, taken care of you?

Without even closing your eyes, you can picture him in his classroom, drawings and inspirational quotes adorning the colorful walls. He stands behind his desk, greeting his students with a gentle, welcoming smile, laughing softly at their antics, answering questions with ease, giving praise when someone gives a correct answer, motivating a student when he notices their grades improving.

You'd have enjoyed to go school with someone like Geto as your teacher.

"I'm not sure if I could ever do something like that,” you admit.

"That's okay. We all have our own roles in life. I simply chose this one."

Are you happy with the role you've chosen? With the change you have made? Or have you inadvertently dug yourself a deeper hole instead of getting out of it?

"Do you ever regret your choice?"

"Of course I have tried to imagine how different my life could have been if I had made a different choice. But there's no point in dwelling on that - I chose what felt right, and looking back would do me more harm than good," Geto points at you with his chin, “how did you end up working in a library?" he asks you now, with no hint of judgment or disdain in his deep voice. Just pure curiosity. 

You don't, can't, answer directly. Coming up with an appropriate answer while your mind is still clouded by alcohol proves to be a difficult task.

“I also studied at a university“, you start, carefully. “Medicine. That’s what I studied.”

He waits patiently, giving you time to figure out what you want to say.

“I stopped last year,” you continue. ‘Stopped’ – what a great euphemism for ‘gave up’', “I realized it wasn’t for me. I didn’t do anything for a while, and then finally got a job at the library. It’s only a side job, though.”

Talking about it – even solely scratching the surface -creates a lump in your throat.

“Is that what your joke was about?”, he muses. You mumble a quiet ‘yes’. Geto hums, seeming to be deep in thought.

"There's nothing wrong with starting over," Geto eventually proclaims into the night, and you follow his words, "If you ask me, it's stupid to choose just one path in your early years and then think you have to stick to it for the rest of your life. We've only lived a small part of our lives so far, so why not consider trying other paths? Ones that also promise less suffering."

You nod, slowly. Let the weight of his words sink in, absorb into your body and mind.

“But how do I know which path is right and which one is wrong?”

This time, he lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Well, you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no such thing as a wrong or a right path – you can learn something from every path you take, even if you think you’ve failed.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, a white cloud appearing in the cold air before you, only to dissipate in a few seconds.

“I guess you’re right.”

"I know," he smirks, and you let out an amused snort. Then, "Perhaps you should try a different path. One that is the opposite of what most people choose and expect. You might find some peace in a place that is not so crowded".

You have to say something back, something good, but you're too stunned to express any of the thoughts and emotions running through your head. 

"Do you regret stopping your studies?", Geto breaks the brief moment of silence.

Teeth dig into the inside of your cheek.

"I don't think so."

"Then I'm happy for you. Do something with that."

You find something swirling in those purple shades that you have been looking for so desperately, fruitlessly in your partner: understanding.

You don’t know what to do with it.

As Geto finishes his cigarette, he glances back at the door before turning back to you.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

A strong gust of wind rustles through the air, a whistling sound from the night sky, like a siren alarming you.

You listen to it.

“…Let’s wait a little longer.”

[leona-hawthorne]

happy 1k!! may i please have latte art? ☕️🫶🏼

i’m a ravenclaw, fave class is probably charms with mattheo 💕 eeeek i’m so excited!!

thank you for requesting pookie, i love u sm 😚🤍 i loved writing this one, hope you like it 💌

1k celebration navigation latte art

ミ★ FEEL IT… mattheo riddle

You stumbled through the damp underbrush of the Forbidden Forest, mittens clutched in one hand, the other holding your wand to light the narrow path. You weren't expecting to run into anyone out here, especially this far from the castle—unlike you, most students didn’t seek solace in the quiet of the woods after sundown. That’s probably why you were surprised to spot a familiar dark-haired figure standing alone beneath a patch of moonlight, his wand raised as he muttered incantations under his breath.

Mattheo Riddle.

You’d seen him around—a Slytherin with a reputation for being brooding, intense, maybe even a little intimidating. But right now, he didn’t look intimidating. He looked… frustrated, wand aimed forward as though he was attempting something challenging. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stepped closer, careful not to make a sound. When he attempted the spell again, you caught a glimpse of silvery smoke swirling from the tip of his wand, a Patronus charm trying to form.

It flickered, then faded, leaving him scowling, muttering a curse under his breath.

Without thinking, you cleared your throat. “You’re close, you know. But you’re missing something.”

He startled, eyes flashing as he turned to face you before he sighed in exasperation.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm, though you could sense a flicker of embarrassment beneath it.

“Not much,” you replied, stepping closer despite the warning look he gave you. “I just thought I’d offer a suggestion. Charms is… kind of my thing.”

He scoffed. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “No, not really. But I do know that if you want to cast a Patronus, you’re going about it all wrong. You’re trying too hard. A Patronus requires more than technique—it’s about feeling. You have to immerse yourself in your happiest memory. Like, really feel it—imagine it in detail, every single sensation.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking half-amused, half-irritated. “What makes you think I have any happy memories?”

“Come on, you must have at least one,” you replied, stepping closer. Without waiting for permission, you reached out, gently adjusting his hand to tilt his wand up. The brush of his hand against yours was warm, steady, but you felt him tense under your touch. His gaze flickered to where your hands touched, and you could practically feel the shift in his breathing. He was trying to keep his cool, but you caught the way his shoulders squared, the faint flush in his cheeks.

He was looking at you now, something unreadable in his gaze, as if he was trying to figure you out. “This doesn’t feel like Charms class,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“It’s not,” you replied, holding his gaze with a playful smile. “But let’s pretend it is.”

He breathed in, then closed his eyes, his face softening as he focused. You watched as his fingers tightened around the wand, as if gathering his resolve, and then—suddenly—an enormous, shimmering silver lion erupted from the tip, prowling protectively around the two of you before disappearing into the trees.

For a moment, he stared at the place where the lion had been, a little awestruck. Then, slowly, he turned to look at you. 

“A lion?” you said, arching an eyebrow. “Interesting for a Slytherin.”

Mattheo chuckled, a warm sound that somehow felt as intense as the rest of him. “I guess there’s more to me than meets the eye.” He hesitated, glancing at your hand still resting on his. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you replied, stepping back to leave.

“Wait,” he called after you, his voice low, but with a surprising urgency. “What’s your name?”

You looked back over your shoulder, giving him a small smile as you replied, “Y/N.” And then, before he could ask anything else, you turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest path, leaving Mattheo staring after you, utterly spellbound, his Patronus glowing softly in the moonlight as he watched you disappear.

[avonne-writes]

would love to see nr. 18 nr. 22 and 37 from the prompt list together!! «truth or dare» with «secret relationship» where their relationship get exposed bc john gets dared to kiss someone else, and gale is possessive

After such a long wait, I finally had a chance to write this. Thank you for the prompt! 🩷 Teenage awkwardness ahead, from an outsider POV.

Truth or dare - HS AU, beginning of Year 10

Why is it that the jocks at Olivia's school throw the lamest parties ever? Her older sister always used to brag about how much fun she had at these things back in the day - two years ago - but Olivia's just bored. Like, it's an absolute snoozefest. Putting on makeup for this wasn’t worth it. Not to mention the two hours she spent straightening her hair and looking for a top that complemented her green eyes. With the shit music they're playing, the whole thing was just a waste of time.

They’re all sitting around in a cramped living room that smells like her brother's socks and the P.E. locker room, and most of the boys are not even cute at all. They all have such bony arms, ugh. Olivia is attracted to real men, older boys. At least two years older. That's where she draws the line. The guys in her year are way too immature for her attention.

Okay, fine, if she really had to choose, Gale Cleven isn’t half bad. He’s kinda fit, more muscular than these soccer boys who can’t stop talking about Messi or whatshisname. He’s got beautiful blue eyes. A piercing stare. Zapphire orbs that glitter with interest when they meet Olivia's… She sighs, taking a sip of her soda and taking a furtive look at Gale where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her. She likes boys with an actual personality. Gale has shoulder-length blond hair, which is pretty unique, but he’s a bit too quiet. What if he's boring too?

Plus, dating Gale would come with the unfortunate side effect of having to spend time with Bucky. Olivia had a crush on him last year, but it faded after a while, and she hates him now. She doesn’t get why he's so popular when he's just a stupid player. He flirts but never actually asks you out. Her past self was dumb for falling for his bright smile and loud personality.

Maybe, going for someone quiet is just what she needs. No, not quiet - mysterious. Yes, that's a better word to describe Gale. He’s smart and sweet and fit, and he wears neat clothes, not just plain, wrinkled t-shirts like Bucky. He takes care of himself. And he doesn’t have acne either. She bets he smells nice. Probably like - like cedar and sandalwood and an earthy, musky scent that she would still smell on her clothes hours after kissing him…

Suddenly, Gale's gaze flickers over to her, so she looks down for a second. Heat rises to her cheeks. But, she read somewhere that if you can keep eye contact with a guy for at least 5 seconds, they will begin to like you, and if it goes up to 10 seconds, they fall in love with you. It sounded like a good method, so she has decided to go for it every chance she gets. Telling herself that she's a bold and pretty girl, she looks up and finds Gale's eyes again. One, two, three - Ah!

It was so close! But Bucky had to choose that moment to tug at a lock of Gale's hair. Can’t he just leave Gale alone? Why does he need everyone’s attention all the time?

Disappointed, Olivia turns back to her conversation with her friends, but she makes sure to glance at Gale every now and then, to give that eye contact another chance. For the most part, Gale doesn’t return her gaze, but she can understand why - Bucky's constantly talking to him, his pale face flushed, sweat on his neck and a permanent smile in his eyes. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so annoying. Like, obsessed much?

She wonders how those two get along so well. Gale is a sensitive boy, a romantic soul, she can tell, and Bucky's all about video games and whatnot. And the way he's sitting is so irritating too, can’t he close his legs? His thigh is brushing Gale's knee. It’s clearly making Gale uncomfortable, because he fidgets and bounces his leg a little. Trying to make Bucky catch on that he’s way too close, no doubt. He gives Bucky an awkward smile, looking at him from the corner of his eyes, and instead of realizing how overbearing he is, Bucky just hands Gale his own drink. As if he expects him to hold it for him or something. Ridiculous.

“Dave!” One of the soccer boys yells at their host over the thumping beat.

“What?”

“I'm fucking bored, man!”

“Go fuck off then!”

The boys flip each other off, and some of the others laugh as if it’s the funniest thing they've ever seen, even though this happens every single day at school. Olivia rolls her eyes. Is it some weird male ritual to insult each other over literally nothing while the others laugh like a pack of demented hyenas? This is why she has given up on these dumbasses.

Sweet Gale would never act like this. He’s a gentleman. The kind of man who'd give his lady a thousand red roses on Valentine's before telling her he loves her. Olivia can feel this in her heart.

When she looks at him again, she sees him pull his knees up and rest his elbows on them, then his head on his folded arms, looking at Bucky. With his usual clueless grin, Bucky says something to him that Olivia doesn’t catch, then he bends one of his knees to bump it into Gale's.

Oh my God, Olivia thinks, this boy really can’t take a hint.

She has suspected for a while that Bucky is socially impaired, not in the introverted weirdo way but like, he’s too much and he doesn’t realize it. How his friends put up with it, she has no idea. But it's clear that Gale is pulling back now, because he pushes Bucky's knee away, and when Bucky grabs his wrist in retaliation, he starts scuffling with him with one hand.

“O-kay, who wants to play spin the bottle?” Dave calls out. A mix of cheers and boos follow.

Excited, Olivia perks up. Gosh, this would be the perfect opportunity!

Her mind speedruns a daydream for her. She imagines Gale spinning the bottle, biting his plump lip nervously as he waits for it to slow down. When it rolls to a stop pointing at Olivia, he’d relax though. He might have been hoping for this, for a chance to get closer to her. He might even give her a shy smile. As everyone watches, he’d take her face in his gentle hands, wait for her to nod to make sure it's okay, and then he'd lean in ever so slowly and press a tender kiss to her lips. He’d pull back an inch after a second, but he wouldn’t be able to let her go just yet - he’d close the distance again, not able to hide his passion any longer.

Pleasepleaseplease, she chants like a mantra, curling her legs under herself to sit as attractively as one can on an ugly IKEA rug, leaning against a couch. Her best friend shares a look with her and giggles as Benny DeMarco chugs down half a bottle of Fanta just to have something they can use to spin. That one's going to be an alcoholist, Olivia has no doubt. And he doesn’t even have blue eyes. Not her type.

As Dave lowers the volume of his trash music - finally! - some of the other girls start protesting the game choice. Olivia narrows her eyes at them. She doesn’t mind giving a quick peck to a couple of clumsy fuckboys if she gets to kiss Gale in the end. But if these girls ruin this for her -

“Fine! Fine, Jesus.” Dave raises his hands in surrender, and the girls stop whining. “How about truth or dare then?”

That seems good enough for everyone. Spin the bottle would have given Olivia a bigger chance at getting to kiss Gale, but whatever, truth or dare isn’t so bad either, and some of the questions might be funny at least. Again, she tries to catch Gale's eyes, running a hand through her long brown hair, but he’s looking at the floor and smiling at whatever Bucky's whispering in his ear. After a moment, he laughs and tells Bucky to shut up.

Glaring at Bucky, Olivia wills him to listen this time.

The game is pretty tame at first. A few people are asked if they have a crush on anybody, Dave is dared to show them his underwear, which is something Olivia will have to scourge from her mind, then her best friend has to tell them her most embarrassing memory. It’s quite funny. As they get more into the game, the questions start getting better too, until finally, the bottle lands on Gale. Olivia can feel her cheeks burn with excitement. Predictably, he chooses truth first - but that’s okay, because he, too, is asked the usual question:

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

Some of their classmates groan, and Dave throws a handful of chips at the person who asked this lame question again, so the boy adds, “In this room?”

Olivia holds her breath. She tries to tell herself that it doesn't matter if Gale says no, it’s not like he’s the only guy in the world, but her heart still races as Gale's lips twitch into an unreadable smile. So sexy and mysterious!

“Yeah, I do.”

A few whoops and laughter follow, and Bucky, obnoxious as ever, whistles. Something about that makes Gale laugh. The way his nose crinkles is the most adorable thing Olivia has ever seen. Suddenly, she wonders if the knowing looks Gale shares with Curt and DeMarco are a sign that the boys know who the lucky girl is. It has to be a sign. She tries to see if any of them look at a particular girl, and she flushes when DeMarco's eyes land on her. She tries to read his gaze for long seconds, but when he smiles, she glances away, embarrassed. If it’s her, she'll know soon enough!

They play a few more rounds without anything interesting happening. When it’s her turn at last, Olivia chooses dare, but her task is to drink a sip from a disgusting concoction they mix for her using ketchup and soda. The smell alone is enough to make her gag, but she pinches her nose shut and does it. It's absolutely vile, and she hates how it lingers in her mouth.

Washing it down with water doesn’t help much either. She's on the brink of getting upset about it, when, like a literal knight in shining armor, Gale reaches across the space between them and offers her a bubblegum.

“Oh.” Olivia blushes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she looks at Gale’s kind expression. When she reaches out, her fingers brush Gale's. “Thank you, Gale.”

Even saying his name makes her heart flutter. And then the way he smiles at her in return!

As she pops the gum in her mouth, he also puts one in his, and at that moment, she feels a synchronicity she has never felt before. It’s an incredible feeling to be so attuned to someone that without talking or practicing, you just mirror each other instinctually. It can't be a coincidence. Even if he's not doing it on purpose, Gale is connected to her, she can tell.

Gosh, what if it really happens tonight? Most of her previous crushes ended in disappointment - khm, Bucky - but this time, she has much higher hopes. She knows her senses are getting better, that she can pick up on all the signs easier. Tonight might just be the night.

She feels giddy from this thought, right until it’s Bucky's turn to play.

“Truth or dare?” Curt asks him with a mischievous look in his eyes.

Bucky's trademark cocky grin makes an appearance. “Gimme your worst, Biddick. Dare.”

Curt’s smile widens. “Take Buck's bubblegum out of his mouth and put it in yours without using your hands.”

“Ewww!” Most of the room alternates between gagging, laughing and looking at Curt in awe for coming up with such a disgusting task. Even with her small crush on Gale, Olivia wouldn’t do it, it’s too much. Although… Actually, if it got her a kiss, maybe she would.

As she goes through this thought process, she comes to the horrifying realization that Bucky would have to kiss Gale to complete the dare. She blanches. It wouldn’t mean anything, of course, but poor Gale, this isn’t even his dare.

One of the girls takes out her phone and starts recording. Bucky just winks at her like he’s not fazed at all by the dare. He’s such a fuckboy, honestly. Olivia hates how that behaviour still makes something in her belly stir. She watches with her eyebrows trying to disappear under her bangs as Bucky leans into Gale's space, looks at his lips, then bats his eyelashes at him in an over-the-top gesture. Gale just looks amused.

“Can you please give me your gum, Buck?”

“Hey!” Curt tries to interrupt through a surprised laugh.

“You didn't say I couldn’t use his hands.” Bucky shrugs, still grinning, and opens his mouth. His tongue sticks out.

To Olivia's astonishment, Gale doesn't protest. He snickers, then reaches a hand up to his lips. In front of their disgusted eyes, he takes the chewed-up gum out of his mouth and puts it in Bucky's.

“Fuck, that's disgusting.” Dave chortles gleefully as Bucky leans back on his hands, chewing away with a smug expression on his face. The rest of the room gags, cringes and laughs until Bucky spins the bottle, then they move on to the next round.

Olivia watches Gale's face for discomfort, but he seems to have found the dare funny. He shakes his head at Bucky fondly. When his eyes find Olivia's, he gives her a sheepish smile. It makes the butterflies in her stomach go crazy with exhilaration. She grins back.

Although it started out as a total flop, the night feels like a dream now. And in dreams… well, anything can happen, right?

The game picks up after that. The dares get more challenging, the questions juicier, and even though Olivia doesn’t get the kind of opportunities she's waiting for, she finds herself having fun. Being as attentive as he is, Gale always watches the person whose turn it is, not Olivia, but she finds that endearing. She wishes he'd catch her eyes more often, but it's okay, quiet boys usually struggle with eye contact. Except for DeMarco, apparently, because anytime she glances his way, he’s looking back. She wonders if he's just zoned out or something or if there’s something else there. He’s not that ugly, if she thinks about it…

Another ripple of laughter pulls her out of her thoughts. The bottle lands on Bucky again, and he says dare before Dave has even finished asking the question.

At Bucky’s response, Dave wiggles his eyebrows. “Kiss the hottest girl in this room on the lips.”

It's simple enough. And surely, for someone like Bucky who - according to the gossip Olivia heard - can’t go without a girlfriend for more than a month, this can’t be too hard to complete. A part of her aches in the hope that it's her. Not that she wants Bucky Egan, dumb jock extraordinaire, to kiss her. It’s just nice to be kissed, that's all. And it would be flattering if he chose her as the hottest. Better yet, it might make Gale jealous.

Oh Gosh, wouldn’t that be perfect? What if Bucky started leaning in and Gale pulled him away at the last moment just to lean in himself and claim the prize? Everyone would be so shocked!

Widening her eyes innocently, Olivia watches Bucky's face for a sign. She ignores the wave of feelings that take her back to last year when she had that ill-advised crush on him. She waits for him to notice her, but he seems unable to look away from Gale’s eyes. This time, they aren't smiling. Something serious flickers between them. Bucky's eyebrows draw together in a way that makes him look like a puppy with gangly legs and arms. To Olivia, Gale's expression is unreadable, but when Gale’s lips purse, Bucky turns back to Dave.

“Sorry, man, gotta forfeit.”

“Aww, what, you getting stage fright?” Dave laughs at his own lame joke. “I was going easy on you!”

“Dude, you were just not inclusive enough.” One of the other boys pipes up. “Should’ve said hottest person.”

“Oh, right. You just want to kiss me, huh, Egan?” Dave makes an annoying kissy noise.

Bucky grins again, his previous discomfort gone. “In your dreams, Davey-boy.”

“You bet.” Dave snorts, then gestures at the circle of them sitting around. “Okay, I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

Again, Bucky hesitates. It's confusing. Olivia doesn’t know what to make of that. It’s as if she's missing a crucial piece of the puzzle, something she should have noticed already but ended up overlooking. She's still trying to make sense of it when her night comes crashing down around her like a sudden storm that leaves you shivering and cold to the bone.

Bucky reaches up with a loving but sure hand, cups Gale's cheek and pulls him into a kiss like it’s something he has done before.

Their lips meet and part with a soft, damp sound that feels loud in the sudden silence that descends on their group.

It might as well be the sound of Olivia's heart being torn apart. A deep ache blooms in her chest where her joy was planted earlier tonight. Her mind refuses to accept what she's seeing. It’s not a first kiss. It’s sure as hell not a kiss forced on two boys by a dare, it’s not a prank taken a step too far. They've done this before. A dozen, a hundred, or a thousand times. They know which way to turn their heads to make it comfortable, how to tilt their chin for the sweetest contact, how to stroke the other's hair to earn a smile.

They know how to kiss each other and they enjoy it.

With a small smile, Gale draws back an inch, but Bucky doesn’t let him go too far - he pushes forward to chase Gale's lips. Right in front of them all, Gale returns this by opening his mouth, and Bucky takes the chance to lick inside and kiss the taste of bubblegum on Gale’s tongue as if he forgot they had an audience to watch it all.

A cacophony erupts around them, everyone talking over each other in excitement and confusion.

Please tell me this was just a dare, Olivia's breath hitches in pain. Shocked into silence, she starts fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Only parts of reality seem to reach her consciousness - the words boyfriend and 8 months, and the sight of Gale's hand in Bucky's, thumb stroking back and forth. How? When did this happen? Why didn’t she notice it all this time? It's so pathetic that she wants to laugh at herself. She managed to develop crushes on two boys who were secretly dating each other.

Universe, is this supposed to be a sign?

Oh, how it hurts that she's always the one who turns out to be delusional.

As she mopes there quietly, watching the sweet smile on Gale’s face, the sudden warmth of a shoulder pressing to hers draws her attention away. When she turns to look up, her green eyes meet brown.

“You okay?” DeMarco asks. The concern in his gentle voice sounds like a balm to her broken heart.

She takes a deep breath and musters a smile. He feels warm and solid, someone you can rely on.

Well. Maybe Benny DeMarco isn’t such a bad option after all. Bucky and Gale can have each other, Olivia's probably better off like this anyway.

The next party can only be luckier than this, she's sure.

[in1-nutshell]

After seeing the ophelia in idw posts I'm really curious about what would Ironhold be like in idw like,

Would they also leave the decepticons? If so, what made them leave? Did their father also shoot them in this universe? Did they realise that their faction had strayed too far from its original goal? Did they defect to the autobots? Would the autobots really accept them? Or do they go neutral?

But if they don't leave, how did they feel about Megatron leaving? In either of those scenarios, what is their relationship with the decepticons? The autobots? Where do they go after the war is over?

I just really like them a lot :D

Here comes Ironhold!

IDW Ironhold

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Mention of injury, Cybertronian reader

IDW/MTMTE

They were a young gladiator when they first met Megatron.

A big fan of Megatron’s work, both in the arena and his writings.

Megatron was a bit curious about the young bot who seemed to follow him almost anywhere they were allowed to go.

At first it was a bit annoying to have a second shadow.

But over time he got used to having them try and chat his audials off.

Megatron walks down the corridor. Rapid pedes steps are heard. The young bot starts calling his name. Megatron: “Yes… umm…” I-035: “I’m I-035, sir!” Megatron winces a bit at the word ‘sir’. He wasn’t that old… Megatron hums as he continues walking. I-035 follows closely behind him. I-035: “There is so much I want to talk to you about! Like how did you find the perfect moves to execute a bot? When did you learn? Do you have a teacher? Can you be my teacher!?” Random gladiator bot: “Will you shut it! I think you’d do us all a favor you miserably little—” The bot stops once Megatron’s glare landed on him. The bot grumbles as he purposely bumps into the younger bot. I-035 grumbles a bit at the shove, but quickly replaced by a smile looking at Megatron. Megatron gives them a faint smile as they continue their walk.

Constantly chatting about their upcoming fights and praising his signature death blows.

He didn’t want to admit it, but the younger bot was slowly growing on him.

The older mech even started helping them train.

Megatron found himself going to watch their fights, admittedly impressed and smiling when he saw them execute one of his moves with extreme precision.

He couldn’t feel any prouder of his pupil.

Sadly, their happy times came to an end when Megatron was sent to another arena.

It would be a couple of years before Megatron would reunite with them once again.

Megatron is walking through the crowd of bots at his recent gathering. He spots a familiar bot dragging someone to him. It was Deadlock. Deadlock: “Megatron! Megatron!” Megatron smiles at the new Decepticon. Deadlock: “I want you to meet a friend of mine.” I-035 stares wide optic at the larger grey mech. A smile starts forming. They take their servo out. I-035: “Megatron, long time no, see?” Megatron mirrors their smile and shakes it before noticing the badge on their chassis. Megatron: “I see you chose a side.” The glistening Decepticon insignia matches the light in their optics. I-035: “Just following an old mentors pedesteps, and hoping he might still have some things to teach me?” Megatron chuckles a bit. Megatron: “Maybe this old mentor wants the both of you in his inner circle.” Deadlock and I-035 look at each other in surprise. They look at each other, almost as if having a silent conversation before I-035 turns to the grey mech. I-035: “We’d be honored Megatron.”

It wouldn’t be long before Megatron would give them a ‘proper’ name.

Quickly, the name Ironhold became associated with the causes goal.

The old ones at least…

It would also be a couple of months before the war would have started.

To the Autobots, the name Ironhold was one of the most feared names on the battlefield.

They were infamously known for their efficiency of taking out bots and strongholds assigned to them.

It only made sense being one of Megatron’s most trusted Con’s.

To the Decepticons, it was a bit of a different story.

They were still known for their efficiency and work, but they were a good bot.

Ironhold often looked out for their fellow soldiers and ‘family’.

Throughout the years, they even earned the title as ‘Megatron’s Child’.

They were a bit embarrassed by this at first, but when Megatron soon calling them ‘his child’, they took in the title with stride.

There was no doubt that the two had grown closer, fighting alongside each other as one.

But as the war grew on, Ironhold started finding themselves getting closer with some of the other Con’s as Megatron’s fixation on Prime grew.

It would also be the time where they would begin to have their doubts about the meaning of the Decepticon cause.

It was Starscream who made them question certain things in the cause.

As much as they knew what kind of mech the Second in Command was, they still held some respect for him.

He wasn’t in that position for nothing.

And while his methods and tactics were… a bit much for Ironhold’s taste, they still respected him.

To Starscream, Ironhold was a puzzle.

How could some bot be efficient and ruthless in battle and still find it in their spark to trust and look after others?

He hated how they could be so kind and helpful to others.

This was war!

No one is supposed to be that kind!

Those kind of bots were the first ones to offline during the first DAYS of the war.

Ironhold mainly left Starscream to his own devices.

But Megatron started hurting him caught their attention.

Hurting him as punishment they understood, but not for no reason or on pseudo evidence.

Megatron launches Starscream across the room. The Seeker landing on his back. Megatron marches over and goes to punch him. The blow never came. Megatron looked to his side to see Ironhold barely holding his arm from harming the Seeker. Ironhold: “Megatron it was not him! The files were not his fault!” Starscream takes this moment to curl up closer to the wall, away from the two larger bots. Megatron: “Someone needs to pay! Or are you offering to take his place?” Ironhold: “What I’m saying is to get your helm out of your tailpipe and find some actual evidence! Not everything that goes wrong here is Starscream’s fault. We are bots who make mistakes from time to time.” Megatron sneers at them. They stand their ground. Their hold on his arm never falters. Ironhold: “Why don’t you go train or take it out on an Autobot if you still need to punch something?” Megatron roughly gets his arm from their grasp. Megatron: “This is the last time you do something like that again. Understood?” Ironhold: “Understood Megatron.” Megatron brushes past them and heads out the door. Ironhold slowly walks up to Starscream and offers him their servo. Starscream tries to get up by himself, but finds it a bit harder to do, so he does take their servo. The pair stands in silence. Starscream: “Some Decepticon you are.” Ironhold rolls their optics. Ironhold: “You’re welcome, Screamer. Let’s get you to the med bay.”

Soundwave was the mech who grounded them to the cause.

Working with Soundwave was a regular occurrence seeing that if Megatron was not involved with planning, it was them.

Soundwave didn’t mind Ironhold, finding them to be one of the only other good Con’s around that was still loyal to the cause.

This would naturally introduce them to the minicon’s.

Ironhold was one of the few Con’s that Soundwave trusted to keep them safe.

The minicons liked Ironhold enough to not cause too much trouble.

Soundwave enters the room. Ironhold has Rumble pinned with one servo to the wall while reading a data pad in the other. Frenzy was duct taped to the opposite wall. Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw were perched on a shelf. Ravage was on the berth stretching. Soundwave: “Ironhold. Explain.” Ironhold without looking up from their datapad: “I told Rumble I needed 3 minutes of quiet to read or else he would get sent to the wall.” Rumble: “I thought you meant like Frenzy!” Ironhold: “Ran out of tape. You had this coming Rumble.” Ironhold puts down the datapad and gently places Rumble back on the ground. Rumble: “You’re lucky I’m such a nice bot and not bringin’ out my pliers on your pedes!” Ironhold: “You won’t do that.” Rumble: “Really? And what makes you so sure?” Ironhold smirks at him. Ironhold: “You like me too much to do that.” Rumble starts stuttering and gets warm. Ironhold starts walking out the room. Soundwave: “You are responsible if he is broken.” Ironhold shrugs and begins to walk out the room. Soundwave telepathically: “Next time, you need to be more direct with Rumble. This horrible flirting is only going to give us all a helmache at the end of the day.” Ironhold feels their entire frame on fire. Soundwave telepathically: “Everyone knows Ironhold. Do not even attempt to deny it.” Ironhold telepathically: “…Please don’t tell Megatron.” Soundwave telepathically: “Try different tactics and we will see.” Ironhold telepathically: “Deal.”

Ironhold’s view on fighting started changing as the war dragged on for years.

Their fighting style changed as soon as they all arrived on Earth.

The Cons just thought it was their way of changing things up a bit, spicing up the old routine.

Ironhold just really didn’t want to hurt the humans.

They had nothing to do with their war, why drag them into it?

Soundwave and the mini’s had caught them saving couple of humans before, but never said anything about it.

Why would they?

It wasn’t like it was hindering Ironhold’s performance.

But they were not the only ones to stop the giant con getting humans to safety.

Many Bot including Optimus had seen Ironhold getting in danger for getting a few humans to safety.

It confused a lot of bots.

Ironhold never once thought of deserting the cause, much less defecting.

They would never betray their family like that… right?

It was a bad day.

Megatron had decided to go after a city of humans that were well away from their targeted area.

It raised a lot of warning signs for Ironhold.

This wasn’t a military advantage or their target, he was doing this for fun.

Ironhold tried to stop him, reminding him of their plans.

He didn’t listen as he rained fire on the city below.

Ironhold did their best to get as many humans to safety until the bots came.

Some of their fellow Cons tried to tell them to let it go, to let Megatron do what he does best.

Thankfully, the Bots do arrive on time.

Everything was getting too much.

The guilt was festering in their tanks seeing the human’s eyes filled with fear, anger, sadness, and so many more emotions.

They had to gently push some who were still in shock from the explosions and the fact that a Decepticon had saved them.

Was this how everyone looked at them?

They didn’t like it.

Ironhold spots Megatron aiming his fusion canon at an injured Autobot trying to shield some humans with his frame. Ironhold: “MEGATRON!” Ironhold pulls back his arm as the shot was fired upward. Megatron turned to them confused and enraged. Megatron: “Ironhold! What is the meaning of this!” Ironhold: “This isn’t even our target Megatron! We are nowhere near it! Why?!” Megatron gets his arm back. Ironhold: “We need to regroup if we are going to make it—” Megatron: “No.” Ironhold slowly realizes that this action was indeed because he wanted to. Ironhold: “These humans have done nothing for our war. Why drag them into it?” Megatron sneers at them. Megatron: “Is that insubordination my child.” Ironhold winced at the venom in their normally endearing nickname. Ironhold: “Megatron—” Megatron: “Speak again and I will terminate you myself.” Ironhold and the Autobot behind them optics widened. Ironhold stood in front of the Autobot and humans protectively. Ironhold: “If this is what the Decepticon’s stand for, I will not—” BANG! Ironhold’s frame fell on top of the Bot and humans limp, with a smoldering hole in their chassis. The battlefield had gone quiet. Megatron starts walking back from the limp frame. Megatron: “There is no use for traitors in my ranks.”

The Con’s follow their leader in shock.

Optimus and Ratchet race to the bot under Ironhold’s frame.

To their surprise, they were still online, barely managing to keep themselves from crushing the bot underneath them and the humans.

Ironhold looked at the Prime and bowed their helm.

Expecting death.

They did not expect him to tell the doctor to patch them up.

They were taken to their base where Ratchet could properly treat them before being taken into a different room for interrogation.

Ironhold half expected Prowl or Jazz to be in charge of this part.

They did not expect Optimus himself to come in.

No one heard what took place inside that room.

But after 3 days, Optimus had announced to the others that Ironhold would be joining their ranks.

This surprised a lot of bots.

Many simply refused to believe a Con as rotten as they were could never be an Autobot.

It was a rough transition.

Ironhold staying close to Optimus and Ratchet at all times before slowly integrating with the others.

They wanted nothing to do with the former Con and they did not blame them one bit.

Their saving grace came in the form of a familiar bot.

Ironhold is looking down while sitting in the corner refueling bit by bit. Smaller pedes come into their view. Ironhold: “If you are going to dump sludge on my helm again I—oh, it’s you.” It was the injured bot they had saved on that fateful day. He had a smile on his face. A kind one. It had been a while since they had gotten one of those. The bot sat down in the seat next to them holding his own cube of energon. Ironhold: “Don’t you have friends you’d rather sit with?” Hot Rod: “I was hoping you’d be one of them. I’m Hot Rod by the way.”

The conversation was a bit awkward at the beginning, mainly taking in the form of a friendly interegation before the bot left.

Ironhold was a bit surprised that the next day Hot Rod had returned to the same spot.

He even brought Bumblebee to chat with as well.

Slowly but surely ironhold started integrating into the ranks.

Ironhold knew that there were things they did that would forever stay in the minds of these bots… but they were grateful enough to call some their friends, dare they say family.

That word was a sacred one now.

The bot swore to only give the title to those worthy of it.

Truly worthy.

They made a mistake before they do not intend on doing it again.

It would be a while before Ironhold would return to the battlefield.

Mainly as a precautionary to the Cons and to the Bots getting used to them.

Thanks to some frame altercations, a fresh paintjob, and an energetic Hot Rod by their side, Ironhold soon began fighting for the Autobots.

Did it hurt to see the faces of their former ‘family’?

Yes.

Did it hurt to see that they did not recognize them?

Yes.

Did it hurt when they shielded their new friends from fusion blasts and fire?

Oh, most certainly.

On a happier note, Drift had also defected meaning they had one extra friend.

It took a lot of effort for them to start making amends, though it was mainly centered around trust.

As said before, as big and ruthless as Ironhold could get, they were still a good bot.

Timeskip after the war…

The war was over.

The Decepticons had lost.

Ironhold was at a lost.

For the first time in their life, they could stop fighting.

It felt… weird.

The sight of Cybertron made them sick to their tanks.

Too many painful wounds had been reopened.

Especially after what Megatron had done…

So, they did the next best thing, they were one of the first to sign up on Rodimus’s crew.

Ironhold is standing next to Rodimus on the bridge as the ship is starting to take off. Ironhold: “Engine’s are almost ready. I think you should take a seat Captain.” Rodimus makes a face at them. Rodimus: “Hold, what did we talk about titles?” Ironhold: “Its only out of respect Rodimus.” Rodimus: “Well, here’s an order, you can ONLY call me by my name.” Ironhold chuckles a bit. Ironhold: “Understood… Rodimus.” Rodimus: “That’s better. You know what ‘Hold, I don’t see this day possibly going wrong.” Ironhold gives him a serious look. Ironhold: “You shouldn’t say that Rodimus.” Rodimus: “And why?” Ironhold pinches their nose: “Because when someone does say that, something immediately goes wrong.” Rodimus: “You really believe in that—” BOOM! Cue the quantum engine fiasco. Ironhold accidentally falls on top of Rodimus due to the shaking. Ironhold: “I TOLD YOU!” Rodimus just wheezes as he tries to get off from underneath their giant frame.

[dokries]

hot chocolate

pairing: boo seungkwan x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, cafe au (with a lil university au), (barista!seungkwan x customer!reader basically), strangers to ?

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of food and drink, seungkwan is kinda flirty and not slick at all, cameos of seokmin (and jeonghan/joshua in passing), seungkwan and reader know each other from previous encounters at the cafe!

author note: this feels like it should be part of a longer fic but i’m not too sure if i actually want to write one…so i’ll post this on its own instead! for context: reader’s usual is lemonade :) and yes i know that this fic is meant to be in the evening and the pics i used are from midday but shh he’s pretty just look at him </3 (i hope you enjoy!)

masterlist

“do you want hot chocolate today? your jacket is way too thin for this weather,” he says, adjusting his glasses to look at you better behind the counter, his name tag flashing as the warm lighting of the cafe caresses it. 

seungkwan.

finally, a name to the face that’s been greeting you joyfully, even at the end of his shift on mondays, like today.

“no, no. i’m alright,” you clear your throat, knowing that your roommate, soojin, saved the jacket around your shoulders for when the leaves had only just started to fall. it was meant to be kept away before she grabbed it by accident and froze in the cooler air of early winter….exactly what was happening to you outside until you entered the (slightly) warmer cafe.

“…if you say so.” his lips turn down into a mix between a pout and a frown as he hums. “one lemonade then,” is what he says before walking towards the mugs kept in the back, and with a faint smile, he pulls out the fruit one he always uses for you—a tangerine, made specially to look just like a real one except bigger, with a green handle on the side decorated with leaf veins.

you rest your arms on the warm counter, the bright green of your roommate’s jacket now faded with use. a quick scan around the small cafe reminds you that it’s fifteen minutes before closing, exactly when seungkwan—his name still feels unfamiliar in your mind, and you turn the letters over as if they’d provide you more clues about your lemon angel—switches the sign at the front to closed.

there’s silence as seungkwan works on your order, his hands hidden away from you in the mess of machines and cups around him. you feel as if you should help somehow. “do you want me to flip the sign for you?” 

seungkwan looks up from his handiwork—which you still can’t see enough of for your liking—in surprise before a soft smile takes over his rosy cheeks. “oh! sure, that would be…really nice of you, actually.”

you return his smile with one of your own, moving towards the front door of the quaint building to turn the sign over so the falling for u was only open for the two of you inside.

there’s some rustling as seungkwan places your mug on the counter before disappearing to refill something (or at least, you assume that’s what he’s doing). you pull out the chair you were sitting on previously before staring quizzically at the steaming drink in front of you. “i didn’t order this.”

“it’s on the house,” seungkwan’s voice rings out through the cafe as he pops his head through the door leading to the back (there’s a sticky note on it you never noticed before: jeonghan stop trying to prank me. i’m going to resign as the co-owner >:( - joshua which intrigues you, but you don’t ask about it).

“i’m not drinking this,” you state instead, shaking your head defiantly as he comes closer, leaning his elbows on the counter behind your drink with a sneaky smile on his face like he’s oh so clever by giving you exactly what you craved on this winter evening (but you would never let him know that).

seungkwan pouts, leaning in as he pushes the mug closer before it ends up in your open hands. “please?”

for an new employee, he seems really keen on annoying his customers.

“no way.” you shake your head. even though this barista’s way too nice (and dramatic) for his own good, you aren’t about to let him win. 

seungkwan huffs, crossing his arms with a head shake of his own. “fine. then you’re no longer my favourite customer! i renounce your title!”

you pause, peering up at him curiously. “i’m your favourite customer, huh?”

he freezes. wait, he wasn’t supposed to say that—his bosses, jeonghan and joshua, had looked at him weirdly when he had mentioned that a few days earlier, with jeonghan warning him to never mention it to anyone else, let alone you, unless he wanted to come off as a creep.

“um, well, i don’t mean it in like a weird way.” seungkwan fixes his glasses, paying closer attention to his hand rather than dwelling on your teasing look—you didn’t seem to think he was being creepy…or maybe he was just being hopeful.

you laugh, staring down at the mug in your hand that reminds you of the man in front of you, now that you think about it. “if it helps…you’re my favourite barista, so i think we’re even.”

he hums, his lips quirking before he clears his throat. “well, if that’s true, you should drink the hot chocolate i made with so much effort just for you.” 

“fine, fine. don’t get too excited,” you say, rolling your eyes with a smile and taking a sip begrudgingly as he lifts up a fist in triumph, disregarding your words entirely as you let out a gentle laugh.

the hot chocolate is sweet as it goes down your throat, and settles warmly in your stomach. seungkwan watches as you relax, his hands moving to grab the mug from you when you’re finished, going to the back to place into the sink, leaving it for joshua when he opens up the next day as a surprise.

you thank him and take a peek outside at the now dark sky with a sigh. maybe it would be a good idea to call up your roommate to walk home together—but you know she’s probably out with other friends though, so you push that thought aside.

seungkwan taps his fingers on the counter to draw your attention to him with a sheepish smile. “sorry, i need to clean up…”

you blink before getting up immediately, gathering all your stuff with a nervous laugh. “oh, right! thanks for the hot chocolate, seungkwan.” 

his eyes widen before he looks down at his name tag. “o-oh right, i finally found this. yeah, i’m seungkwan.” he says, smiling brightly. that makes a lot more sense, you think. you’ve seen all the other workers at the falling for u cafe with name tags, even the owners, so it would have been weird to see a barista without a name tag if you hadn’t been paying more attention to his kindness instead of his apron.

you smile back and his eyes soften before he purses his lips. “wait just a few minutes, okay?”

your eyebrows furrow but you nod, and seungkwan walks quickly to grab his stuff from the back. your eyes linger outside as he walks back out, a blue puffer jacket now on his shoulders, along with a small bag.

he pauses to turn off the small lamps scattered around the cafe, and you go to help with the last few closest to you, earning you another surprised smile.

once he turns the big light in the centre of the cafe off, he glances around the space that usually seems threatening, like the shadows of every coffee he’s managed to spill (a lot) are coming back to taint the floors after he’s worked so hard to mop his mistakes up, no matter how childish it seems.

now, with you staring at him curiously once more, he thinks it’s okay, and the dim light from the windows is the only thing that’s distracting him—it’s way too dark to be out alone.

seungkwan opens the door, and you go outside before he does. he locks up the cafe in record time before turning to you with a signature pout. “do you want me to walk you to the bus stop, or home? you live on campus, right?”

you purse your lips carefully, wondering how much information you should give out. “yeah, i do…but i’m going to be taking the bus. you?”

seungkwan nods, putting his hands in his pockets. “i’ll walk you to the bus stop. seokmin said he’d pick me up anyway, so i don’t think he’ll mind.”

you tilt your head. “are you sure it’s not going to be inconvenient for your friend? i really can go by myself, it’s okay.” you huff out a dry laugh. “it’s not like i’ve been by myself in worse situations.”

you glance up to see seungkwan’s face twisted in horror before he clears his throat and crosses his arms. “no. i’m dropping you off at the bus stop, and that is final.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and who are you to demand things?” seungkwan opens his mouth to rebut your words but he really can’t—you’re basically strangers, even if he feels weirdly familiar at times. “exactly.”

he huffs, taking off his scarf to wrap it around your neck tightly, and you blink at him in shock once he ties a knot to make sure it’ll stay on. “at least take this. you can give it back to me the next time i’m working.”

you give him a look before crossing your arms. “and how am i supposed to know your schedule?” 

seungkwan grins, pulling on one end of the scarf with a wink. “you just have to keep wearing it then, don’t you?”

you open your mouth to protest but a car blinds you with its headlights, and seungkwan grins. “that’s my ride! i’ll see you around, favourite customer.”

you scoff but wave back at him once he gets into the car, a man with a surprised look directed towards you in the driver’s seat until seungkwan gives him an explanation—it must be the seokmin your favourite barista was talking about. 

they both smile at you as seokmin drives off, and you nuzzle into the red scarf that’s already warm from seungkwan’s body heat before putting your hands in your pockets and walking towards the bus stop with a sigh.

you’ll just have to keep going back to the cafe to give it back, you decide, and you can’t deny the grin that appears on your face at the thought of seeing seungkwan’s surprised face again.

[loverslodge]

shifted for you

summary: bucky was stuck in a pup form till you came in his life

pairings: shifter!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: fluff, angst, SMUT, nudity, reference to his injury, barely a plot

A/N: this is the fic that is for my over 100 followers. thank you all for loving my work and following me. i am not good at interactions so i apologize i come off as snobby but i do encourage you to leave requests and messages.

Bucky was a shifting White Wolf till Hydra had ruined his shifts and he was stuck in pup form, even after Steve had found him.

The Avengers helped him but he could never shift back to himself and so Tony made Bucky a special communication device so he didn't have to bark every two seconds because everyone wanted to pet his cute ass.

One day he and Steve were ambushed and they got separated and Bucky would have gotten back, only if he knew what part of the city he was lost in and he had also lost his communication device.

You were walking home after a stressful day at work when you heard small whimpers coming from an alley.

You stopped and looked in the alley to see a roughed up pup with two electric blue eyes staring back at you.

“It's okay, little buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you.” You walk slowly and crouch down to approach the whimpering pup. “Let me help you. I promise I will try to find your owner.”

You were close enough to hold it but you held out your hand instead, wanting the pup to sniff and make sure you really meant him no harm.

He slowly walks over a little sniffs around your hand and he gives you the sweetest look and you give him your brightest smile but he struggled to walk to you so you whipped it up in your hand and pulled him close to your chest.

You brought it to the new vet that had opened near your house. The vet examined the wolf pup and gave him a suspicious look. The vet gave you a few tips and tricks on how to help the pup and gave you some supplies that would last you a few days before you could go shopping for them.

The pup had a metal left front leg that kept his balance. You figured it was from the previous owner. On your walk home, the pup stayed alert and kept on looking around. You found it adorable how smart and alert he was.

When you reached your apartment, you let him down and he cautiously made his way from one to another while you set up his stuff

You bent down to look at his neck. “I don't see any collar on you. How will I know what's your name and who's your owner? Do you have a name, Little Wolf?”

As if he could understand you, he nodded which shocked you. Perhaps this was a very well trained pup. “Ok. Well, you can't talk so I will have to find a way for you to spell your name out to me. Can you spell?”

After waiting a beat, the pup nodded again and you nodded back. You looked around to find a way to interact with him. You rummaged around the apartment to find something but couldn't come up with anything.

Meanwhile, you had poured food for the pup in his bowl but he wasn't eating it, giving it a disgusting look. He just drank the water and trotted to sit on the carpet in the living room.

“You've at least got to eat to keep the strength up. Do you not like the food?” He shook his head in no.

“Then what do you eat? Do you eat human food?” He nodded yes.

“You are a very weird wolf and your owner must be even weirder for feeding you human food.”

When your pizza arrived, you pulled out a spare plate for the pup to eat in. you turned on Stranger Things and were watching the scene where Will’s mother had written alphabets all over the wall for him to interact with her.

That clicked in your mind and you immediately pulled out a large paper and wrote alphabets on them for the pup to walk and put his paw on them.

“Here, now we can talk. Let's start by you telling me your name, Little Wolf.”

The pup trotted on the paper and put his paw on the alphabets and you wrote them down on your phone to stay up to speed.

B-U-C-K-Y

“Bucky? Is that your name?” The pup nodded a bit more enthusiastically.

“Well Bucky, looks like you're stuck with me for a while. At least till I find your owner.”

………………….

It had been almost a month since you had Bucky in your life. The pup hadn’t grown at all but you were used to having him around.

You had learnt quite a few things about him.

He loved sweet food, especially pancakes.

He would whine if he didnt see you for more than 15 minutes.

He was very alert and protective of you.

He loved to cuddle against your chest and crook of your neck.

Last but not the least, he has nightmares often but once you rub his head gently and coax him to sleep, he would cuddle into you and go back to sleep.

This is why he has been sharing the bed with you and you thought you were spoiling him but you couldn't see him sleep alone and have nightmares.

You work from home often but you go to the office from time to time to get a change of scenery.

So whenever you're working from home, he would snuggle into your lap.

But every time you left, he would be whimpering and whining the entire day till he hears you walk in.

“Hey Bucky! How has your day been? Did you do anything instead of missing me?” You teased the little pup. Bucky humphed and trotted away from you. “Aww, don't be like that. I was just teasing.”

You swooped down and held him closer to your chest and kissed his head. “I'm glad I found you, little wolf.

You give me so much comfort and you keep us safe, my fierce wolf.”

That night as you and pup cuddled, Bucky felt something shift in him and he jumped off the bed, trying not to hurt you.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, he just automatically shifted back to his 6 foot beefy human form.

Bucky excitedly walked in the bathroom and closed the door gently to not wake you up.

He looked at himself. He hadn't seen himself since Hydra had taken him. His vibranium pup hand had now grown with him, attached to his jagged shoulder.

Bucky must've spent an hour or so in the bathroom looking at himself. He slowly creeped out of the bathroom and stood right above you.

This was his chance to touch your face with his human form.

He's always wanted to feel how your skin would feel against his.

He caressed your face gently and it sent shivers down his spine.

Your skin was so fucking soft.

He wanted to bury his face in your neck and hold you close to him, make you feel the real him.

He had started developing a tiny (yeah right) crush on you.

You cared for him, cuddled him and shared everything with him.

He would find all kinds of ways to cuddle on your chest.

Your heartbeats always calmed him and your smell, damn, it was all he could think about.

And when you patted his head and caressed him and pulled him closer whenever he had nightmares, all he wanted to do was mark you up.

He leaned down and kissed your cheek.

He knew he would have to find a way to tell you about his shift.

But he didn't want to leave you either.

So he thought of risking it.

He tried shifting back and he did but this time he was a huge wolf and not a pup.

Then he thought maybe he should try shifting back to human form, see if it was still working and it did.

Bucky was, somehow, back to normal.

He turned back to his wolf form and climbed back in bed, placing his snout in the crook of your neck. He went back to a calming sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, you felt a wetness against your neck and heaviness on your body.

You shuffled to see that little pup and suddenly grew into a huge wolf that had taken over most of your body and bed.

His metal forearm was snuggly wrapped around your waist.

You slowly got out of the bed and went to the bathroom to get ready.

When you got out, you saw the wolf sitting by the bathroom door with, what looked like, an abandoned face.

He whined as soon as he saw you.

You bent down and laughed, scratching his head. “Oh little wolf, I would never go anywhere without telling you, you know that, right? And look at you! All… grown up in a night? Must be a miracle that have happened. But no worries, it's okay. You look more comfortable now than when you were a pup.”

Bucky rubbed his head against your hand.

His ears touched a fluffy thing and he turned to see that you were in nothing but a towel.

His primal instincts were trying to take over but all he did was let out a quiet growl to calm himself.

In his pup form, you would busy him with some task and change and he didn't really mind that but now he was back, all Bucky, and the attraction towards you was hard to deny.

You threw him a toy and thought he was distracted but his blue eyes were following your every move.

You had completely removed your towel and were moisturizing yourself.

The dips and curves of your body were being taken in by a certain blue eyed wild wolf. Your erect nipples and your glistened pussy was calling out to him but he held off.

Once you were done with moisturizing, you wore your traditional home pjs, shorts and tattered crop top.

You had decided to forego your bra and were just in your underwear.

Bucky was not someone who was good at holding off for this long so he turned and walked to the large alphabet paper to talk to you.

He had to let you know that you were living with a man, a shifter and not a pet.

You saw him walk to the paper so you brought out your own tiny pad to help you form sentences so you wouldn't get lost.

“I am not a wolf.”

You snorted at it but nodded your head to let him continue.

“I am a man.”

You got quieter because you had heard of shifters who were endangered and were mostly under hiding.

“I'm the Winter Soldier.”

You gasped.

“I don't mean you any harm but if you let me change i will explain.”

You nodded slowly and he shifted in front of you.

He was a god.

He was a completely naked beefy god on whom you want to jump but can't because of lots many reasons.

“I'm Bucky.”

Why the fuck is his voice so fantastic?

You could feel his voice vibrating through your wet pussy.

His cock is was right in front of your face and so close to grasp.

He was big and veiny.

You grabbed your bottle and drank entirely to quench your dry throat.

You got up suddenly, startling him and grabbed an old pair of men’s sweatpants and handed it to him with your cheeks burning red.

Even the sweatpants werent hiding his beauty.

He sat at the edge of your bed and patted next to him for you to sit down.

“I was lost when you found me. I stayed a pup because of my past but I was able to shift yesterday.”

He looked at you so innocently.

His blue eyes dripped with innocence and all you wanted to do was steal it but you held yourself off.

“I swear I would've told you the truth but it really takes a lot of effort for me to tap every letter and i didnt know if I could trust you after what I have been through.”

You pull him in a hug to comfort him.

His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your bodies are pressed together.

Your taut nipples were pressed tightly against his bare chest.

You felt him tighten his hold on you and he rubbed his nose against the crook, lazily kissing your sensitive spot.

“...Bucky…”

He lifted his head and brought his nose closer to yours and bumped it as if asking for permission.

You leaned forward and put your lips on his.

His primal instincts spurred and the kiss became more demanding.

“Tell me to stop, doll.”

“You're in charge, Bucky. Take what you want.”

He threw you in the middle of the bed and climbed on top of you, his lips not leaving your body.

He tore through your shorts, t-shirt and underwear, leaving you naked and writhing under him while his lips and teeth marked your body as his.

You moaned and mewled as he ate you out.

Your hand held his hair tightly, making him groan on your pussy, sending vibrations straight to your core.

“God, baby, you're so perfect.”

He loved eating you out so much and he kept at it till he made you cum three times, leaving you glassy eyed and panting.

Your naked bodies, pressed against each other, made the entire scene look like a painting.

“Are you sure?”

“Make me yours, Bucky.”

Bucky rubs his cock against your folds and your back arches, giving him the sweet sounds he's been listening to all day.

He slides his cock in and takes his sweet time, making you feel things your body had never felt before.

His lips move all over your body just like yours do to his.

He speeds up his thrusting and you moan out his name, making him go feral.

“Yes Bucky please.”

“So sweet, doll.” “So tight for me.” “not gonna last long, baby.”

His thrusts become irregular and you rub your fingers against your clit to match him.

You both cum together as he spills in you.

“Can I stay in you for a little longer?”

“Stay as long as you want, Bucky.”

“I want you.”

“You have me.”

“No no, not just like this. I want to be bound to you.”

“And how can you do that?”

“I mark you, bite you, bind you to me for life.”

“Do it, Bucky. I'm all yours to be bound.”