#maybe I’ll make a side blog for all my reposts where I don’t have anything significant to add…

[cq-studios]

So apparently not reblogging stuff will possibly make this website into a Twitter clone?

Not a fan of that fact so I’m gonna try to get better at reblogging things…

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 23

Part 23: Who Do You Trust?

Series Masterlist

Words: 4.6k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, activities, domestic violence, miscarriage, and infidelity. References to kidnapping, non-con, imprisonment, and threats. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can’t sleep?”

Steve looked up to see Dyson in his doorway. A quick glance at his watch revealed it to be just after 3 AM. Raking a hand through his hair, Steve shook his head.

What happened just a few hours ago had him shaken. Hansen brought a group of mercenaries to his home while he was gone, while the heads of the five families were meeting over the discord in the ranks that he called. And he didn’t even make it to the meeting.

What was this? The fucking Godfather? The bastard worked for Barnes. And Barnes wasn’t even trying to hide his contempt for Steve’s leadership. It was a direct challenge, and it required a swift and harsh retaliation.

His wife was sleeping in his bed upstairs. Since he’d announced his intention to marry her, to claim leadership of the families, Clint had been shot. A shop on his turf had been hit hard. And now this.

“Hansen was here for her.” Steve was direct. “He came so close.”

The concern on his man’s face mirrored what Steve felt in his chest. The side of Dyson’s face was bruised, his arm in a sling from the attack earlier.

Motioning to the chair on the other side of his desk, Steve said, “Please, have a seat. You should be resting.”

Dyson waved him off. “I’ll be fine, boss.” Still, he slowly made his way to that chair and took a seat.

“I’m thinking we have rat in our ranks,” Steve said finally.

Dyson’s expression was grim. He nodded.

“Someone knew where to find Clint that night,” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah, but Clint wasn’t where he was supposed to be.” Dyson blew out an exhale. “And then this horrible fight your sister got into with her husband.”

Fight, by all accounts, was putting it mildly. Since Clint had been shot, Steve had kept him away from Nat. To protect them both. Maybe Nat was unhappy about that and picked a fight with Bruce. It wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe…

“You heard anything about that fight?” Steve asked. “Since I didn’t make it over there. Or to the meeting of for that matter.”

“You not making the meeting was Barnes’ intention,” Dyson said angrily. “But Barnes was there, and fuck knows what he said to the others.”

Barnes likely tried. Tony wouldn’t just buy it. Neither would Sam. Thor? He could honestly go either way.

When Steve didn’t have anything to add to that, Dyson shook his head. “I put Scott on it, but he didn’t hear much. Thing I don’t like? No one has really seen Nat since that fight.”

Steve considered that. “What do you mean? I’ve talked to her.”

“Unless it was by video chat, you haven’t seen her.”

“What are you saying?” Steve knew what the older man was insinuating. “Yeah, Bruce has a temper on him. But…”

“They haven’t fought like this since she fell that time,” Dyson threw out there.

Steve blew out his frustration. “We’ve talked about this,” Steve told him. “She was too close to the stairs, and she fell.”

Dyson eyed him skeptically. “You really believe that? She broke and arm, a leg. Lucky she didn’t break her neck. And the baby…”

Steve stopped him there. “Yes, it was awful and I all but threatened Bruce to tell me the truth about that. You know I did.”

Dyson nodded at that.

“And what if that baby wasn’t Bruce’s, huh?” Steve pointed out. “You ever thought about that?”

“Sure, I have,” Dyson told him. “Bruce knew about the pregnancy. If he really thought it was his, why would he have gotten in a fight like that with her? Why take the risk?”

It was plausible that Bruce might have thought that. But for him to go after Nat like that? He still struggled to believe that. Surely to God Bruce would know better than to lay hands on his sister.

Nat was headstrong and irrational when she was upset. She’d been dramatic since she was born.

Still, something felt off.

“I’ll go check on her today,” Steve finally said. “I’d very much appreciate it if you kept this away from my wife.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that,” Dyson explained. “Clint moped around through dinner and the start of poker night. Scott brought it up. I tried to steer them off topic, tell them to mind their own business. Scott shut up. Your wife doesn’t have to. She thinks your sister is being brutalized. Her words.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s because Nat’s been in her ear. But we need to manage that better. The one time she disobeyed me and left this house was with Nat.”

Dyson nodded his agreement.

Rising from his chair, Steve went to pour himself a bourbon. “You don’t think Clint is a concern, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we have a rat,” Steve had to say it, “Clint certainly has a motive.”

Dyson snorted. “If Clint was going to turn on us, don’t you think he would have done it before now? Clint followed orders. You wanted him to break your sister’s heart? He did. You want him to go to Europe so you could marry her off to Bruce? He did. Clint’s on the up and up.”

Maybe Dyson was right. But Steve wished he could keep him the hell away from Nat. He’d been so sure that Bruce could make it work, to care for his sister in a way that she deserved. His sister deserved better than a cluttered three-room apartment and a soldier who might not live long.

“Then there’s Belova,” Steve said. But he knew as soon as he said it what was coming.

“No,” Dyson said flatly. “Forget about it.”

“Things escalated when she came on the scene,” Steve replied.

“She wasn’t here when Clint got shot,” Dyson was quick to say. “Pretty sure she was here in this house when the shop got hit.”

“She’s supposed to be protecting my wife at the wedding,” Steve pointed out. “Kat and Hansen both got to her. And last night?”

Dyson was already shaking his head. “Hansen’s a psychotic son-of-a-bitch who caught her off guard at the wedding.”

There was something Dyson wasn’t saying. How did Yelena know Hansen?

“And last night? My wife is the one who shot Hansen,” Steve told him, taking a sip of his drink as he stood there. “It scares the shit out of me. They were already after her because of who her father was. Because she’s mine. Now this?”

“Hey, they got the drop of me,” Dyson said meaningfully. “Only reason you didn’t find my dead ass out there last night was because of Yelena.”

“Maybe she covered you,” Steve told him. “But twice now Hansen’s got the drop on her. Hansen is who is coming for my wife with Barnes’ blessing. If Yelena can’t handle him, she can’t protect my wife.”

Dyson didn’t like that answer. Steve could almost hear his mind working as he walked back to the desk and sat down.

“If not for Yelena, your wife might be gone,” Dyson explained. “Who taught her to shoot, huh?”

Steve remembered the cuff mark on her thigh on their wedding night. “I don’t remember asking anyone to teach my wife how to use weapons.”

“You wouldn’t.” Dyson chuckled.

His man didn’t have to finish that sentence. Steve knew in a given mood his wife with a weapon could possibly spell bad news for him down the road.

“Did you know?”

Shaking his head, Dyson held his gaze. “No.”

“I’m just supposed to accept someone teaching my wife to use a gun and God knows what else?” Steve wanted to know. “She got lucky last night. If she’d missed him, my wife would be gone, and we’d be having a different talk.”

Dyson gave him a look. “You think Yelena came up with that by herself? Think about it. Or did your wife ask her to show her some things?”

While Dyson just might be right, Steve wasn’t going to admit to that. “Belova is here on trial. I’ll be talking to her in the next day or so.”

“Talk to her,” Dyson told him. “She’ll listen. But you try and end that arrangement and it will be a full-on war with your wife.”

Steve knew it too. Still, there was something else he wanted to bring up.

“Yelena brought a woman here,” Steve reminded him. “Now, I’m told she was here to do my wife’s nails. But Neal said she looked familiar. He just couldn’t place her. You know anything I don’t?”

“What?” Dyson shook his head. “That woman was a beautician. I did the security check myself.” Dyson chuckled at that. “What do you think a cosmetologist is going to do?”

“Why did Neal recognize her?”

Dyson was still grinning. “How the fuck should I know? Neal is an uptight kiss ass. I’ve never liked him.”

“He’s a good man,” Steve replied.

“He’s a prick,” Dyson told him. “You want to look for rats, you might take a closer look at him.”

Steve realized that Dyson didn’t like Neal. But no one else had a problem with him and he’d proven himself over the last two years.

“How about Scott?” Steve asked.

Dyson side-eyed him. “Really?”

“How is Yelena?” Steve wanted to get off the topic.

The old man’s expression eased. “She’s concussed. But she’ll be okay according to doc. She just needs to take it easy for a couple of days. We’ve doubled security anyway.”

Holding up his hands, Steve didn’t take that on. “Fine. But I’ll be keeping a closer eye on her.”

***

You woke up at just after seven and you were alone. It felt strange as you stretched, sat up. Normally Steve woke you around five in ways that you had come to enjoy. Once he was done, you usually went back to sleep for a while. But today he was gone.

Then the night before all came back to you. The attack on the house. Hansen.

Scrambling to get a shower and get dressed, you were on a mission. Luca was surprised to see you burst into his kitchen the way you did. At first. But you asked him if he could get breakfast ready for Dyson and Yelena, planning to take it to them on trays.

“Dyson’s up already, he just left with Steve,” Luca explained.

“Who went with them?” you had to ask about security. Especially with everything that happened last night.

Luca pulled a face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he finally muttered. “There was some disagreement on who was going with them. Clint ended up going. But Scott and Neal are still here with us.”

“Steve’s going to check on Nat.” Pulling down a glass, you went for the orange juice in the kitchen. “That fight was bad then.”

Luca chuckled. “I know you didn’t see your old man all that much. And that was stupid on his part. But you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Just like he did.”

Which was Luca’s way of confirming your suspicions. Okay then.

Pouring yourself some juice, you smiled. “Thank you. It’s just… I didn’t choose this life. But it’s mine now so I’m going to learn it.”

“I don’t doubt you,” he said, getting ingredients.

“Where’s Yelena?”

“Must still be in bed,” the cook went on. “I haven’t seen her.”

“She’s really okay?”

“Concussion,” Luca told her.

“Bastard,” you mumbled, hating Hansen. You didn’t know what happened between her and Hansen in the past. Yet another secret from the past that could come back and bite all of you in the ass. You decided then and there to see if she would tell you what happened there.

“So I’ll get on that breakfast for her.”

You hugged him. “Thank you.”

Luca always had a pot of coffee on. You poured a cup for Yelena. You knew she liked caramel, so you flavored It for her, grabbed a saucer, and headed for the stairs.

You apparently weren’t the only one heading for Yelena’s room. You saw Neal before he saw you and he stopped.

Schooling his expression, he said, “Were you looking for someone, Mrs. Rogers?”

“No. Were you?”

There it was. That impatient smirk. You’d seen it before at the hospital.

“I was just checking on Belova,” he explained benignly.

Yelena had a good rapport with Luca, Clint, and Scott. She put her best face on whenever your husband was in the vicinity. But Neal? You’d never seen them interact now that you thought about it.

“I’ve got it,” you told him. “But thanks.”

“You don’t need to trouble yourself with this,” he was curt. “It’s not your job to look after those of us who work for your husband.”

Oh. Oh. Did he really just talk down to you?

“It is if I want it to be,” you informed him. You couldn’t help it, but your anger rose. Things were already tense, so it didn’t take much. “I’ve never seen you and Yelena talk. It just struck me as odd.”

Oh, that pissed him off. You watched color seep up from the crisp white collar of his shirt.

“Maybe she wouldn’t be injured, Mrs. Rogers, if you hadn’t interfered.” Neal squared up a little, tall as Steve he towered over you. “More people could end up hurt if you continue playing a game that you’re not suited for.”

“I’m new to all of this,” you said slowly, glaring back at him. “It’s true. But I’m not so new that I think I need advice on any aspect of my life from a soldier. Are we clear?”

A muscle at the man’s jaw jumped. It took a minute, but he finally said, “Yes, Mrs. Rogers.”

You shook your head. Who did he think he was?

You waited until he went back the way he came, out of sight, before you tried the door. It was unlocked. You hoped Yelena was okay with you just letting yourself in. You were quiet, trying not to wake her with a start.

As it was, she was already up, scribbling furiously on a notepad on her lap. When her gaze met yours, you saw her tears.

“I brought you coffee,” you told her with a smile. “Are you okay?”

Her face crumbled then, and she buried her face in her hands, sobs shaking her entire body.

You hustled over, placing the coffee on her bedside table with care. It was hot. Then you took a seat on the edge of her bed.

“Yelena,” you told her. “I’m so sorry about your concussion. How do you feel?”

“Like a failure,” she told you.

Wrapping her up in your arms, you held her there. Your gaze drifted to the notepad she’d been writing on. All you had to do was skim the first couple of lines she’d written to realize it was a resignation.

Easing back from her, you made her look at you. “Yelena, we need to talk.”

Stoically, she tried to get a grip on herself. The tears continued to slide down her face and it was a struggle for her to meet your gaze.

“We do,” she said in a shaking voice. “And I accept responsibility for what happened last night. I will… leave today and –”

“What are you talking about? You’re not resigning. I need you,” you assured her.

“You could have been taken or killed,” Yelena’s voice was heavy with self-directed anger.

“But I wasn’t.” You watched her swipe at her tears. “I’m still here.”

“I froze,” she muttered. “I—”

“But I didn’t,” you went on. “Thanks to you.”

Shaking her head, she still looked miserable. “You may want me to stay. But if I don’t resign, your husband will insist I go.”

“Let him try,” you explained. “I’ll go with you.”

Still, your friend looked despondent.

“Yelena, don’t worry about your position here. You won’t lose your position. I promise you that. But I need to know what happened,” you said carefully. “You have a history with Hansen. And I’m not judging you. But—”

Now she looked afraid. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. You were about to try and change the subject when she blew out an exhale.

“I know what he said but he… was never my ex,” she said slowly. “I don’t think of him that way.”

Dread flooded your heart at those words. If he wasn’t her ex, what had happened?

“My father worked for Steve’s father, before I was born,” she explained.

You nodded, listening.

“Hansen, is just a little older than your husband,” Yelena continued. “He didn’t have family connections to our world, but he wanted to be part of it very badly. He is ambitious. From what I’m told, he wasn’t well liked when he started out. Your father wasn’t even willing to give him a chance. For a long time, the best he did was take odd jobs he got from the Starks. Things no one else wanted to do.”

You had a bad feeling about her part in this story, but you didn’t say anything.

“When I was small, the feds came after the families in a big way,” she went on. “Another soldier Hansen frequently worked with was gunned down. Hansen survived. Barely. My father and another soldier found him there in the street and they took him in, saved his life.”

You could tell from the tempest of pain and fear in her face that she wished the story had ended there and differently.

“He fooled my father who took him under his wing,” Yelena explained. “He got him on with your husband's family. Once Hansen physically recovered, he demonstrated who he really was. He was ambitious and cruel. Whatever it took to get the job done, he did it. My father was pretty brutal, but Hansen’s tactics didn’t sit well, even with him. Or Dyson. Still, regular as clockwork, he’d visit us. Every month, he’d come to our house to have dinner and catch up with my father. He’d ask my father to tell him stories about his life, fed his ego.”

More tears. You reached for her hand as she struggled to continue her story. She let you.

“By then, my mother had passed, and my brother was always out with his friends. I’d beg him to let me go to a friend’s house,” Yelena told you. “To go anywhere. But he insisted I stay and cook them dinner. It would be good for me to learn, my father said. He meant for me to marry someone in the business, just like you.”

That explained why she wanted to help you. But Yelena became a soldier. And you were about to hear how that happened.

“My father didn’t notice the way he’d leer at me,” she went on. “The minute my father’s back was turned, or he left the room, Hansen was focused on me. It made my skin crawl. I even tried to explain this to my father, but he’d shake his head. ‘Hansen knows you’re not for him,’ he’d tell me. ‘He wouldn’t dare try anything with you because he’d have to deal with me,’ he’d say. And that was true.”

Oh, God.

“That last year of my father’s life, my brother went off to college,” Yelena went on. “He went to Julliard. My father was so proud that he would be a great musician. A cellist. I wanted him to be proud of me. I did well in school. I wanted to be out there in the world, like my brother. My father instead planned to marry me off because he knew he didn’t have long. He would try to introduce me to young soldiers he worked with.”

You shook your head. What was wrong with these men?

“Hansen was furious,” Yelena explained. “On top of those damned monthly dinners, he started showing up outside my school and my job. He’d scare off anyone who tried to talk to me at my father’s bidding. After that, I was afraid to talk to any other boys who were interested in me. I was afraid he’d hurt them.”

Yelena had been way too young to be afraid like that. Like you, she hadn’t had a chance.

“When my father passed? Hansen…” A sob cut her off. “Hansen moved into our house and he… took me. I haven’t heard from my brother since the funeral, nor any other people in my family, since then. He must have threatened them… he must have…”

Your heart broke at the story she told. She’d just been a girl at the mercy of a psychotic brute. You held her, let her cry it out. Yelena was choking on her tears.

You were choking back fury. The same young woman had protected you, helped guide you. Regardless of what the bastard had done to her, he didn’t completely break her. Yelena was strong.

Still, you swore to yourself you would make him pay.

“You survived him,” you whispered, your own tears pooling in your eyes. “You got away from him.”

Yelena eased away, nodded. The sliver of pride that had her chin rising gave you hope.

“I was his prisoner for over a year,” she said finally. “I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t speak to anyone. I had no access to a phone, to any media. I thought I was going to die.”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” Yelena said like she still had to convince herself. “One day he came back from a job, and he was badly beaten up. I was able to overpower him. I got out.”

“Can I ask you something?” When she nodded, you went on. “You stayed here, in Boston. Why? Why didn’t you go anywhere else? You could have disappeared.”

“He would have found me,” she said simply. “He wouldn’t have stopped until he did. When he wants something, he’s the most ruthless person you’ve ever encountered. There was only one place where I could go and be safe. I had to be protected by one of the families.”

You felt sick. Really?

“But not as a wife,” you offered.

“No, I’m not suitable for that now,” she explained. “But after what I went through, using sex to meet my goals didn’t seem so unreasonable. I hooked up with a soldier in the Wilson family. It wasn’t a relationship. He wanted sex. I wanted someone to teach me. I learned the basics from him. After he pointed me in the right direction, I did the rest on my own. I became a soldier.”

“Oh, my God,” you muttered.

“My relationship wasn’t enough to protect me on its own. So I moved around a lot, couch surfed,” she went on. “Dyson knew me because he and my father both worked for the Rogers family. I ran into him one night and... He helped me get jobs here and there. He let me stay at his house when I needed it."

You must have made a face at that.

"He was living with you," she told you. "Dyson has a home. Apparently, he chooses to live here to keep an eye on you."

That thought had you smiling. Dyson was the closest thing you actually had to a father.

"He got me the gig at your wedding.”

And you were so grateful for that.

“When you offered me this,” she said slowly, “you didn’t realize that you saved me.”

You smiled through your own tears. “We are saving each other.”

“It’s the best life I can have now.”

“You can’t say that,” you told her. “You could be anything you wanted, Yelena. You could be happy one day. Maybe even find someone who cares about you.”

“No one would want me now,” she said bitterly. “I’m scarred, damaged.”

That son-of-a-bitch. Whatever he’d done to her had been awful. You didn’t need to have that explained to you.

But he would pay.

“But I promise,” Yelena told you. “As long as I live, I will not let him do to you what he did to me.”

“I believe you.” You meant it. “And I’m really hoping you’ll stay by my side. I need you.”

“It may not be our choice.”

You didn’t miss her meaning.

“It will be my choice,” you assured her. “Don’t worry about that. Right now, rest. Luca is making your breakfast right now.”

She shook her head. “You’re taking care of me. That’s not how it’s supposed to go.”

“Fuck tradition,” you told her. You tore off the page she’d been writing on and ripped it in half. “I could care less how any of this is supposed to go. Now rest.”

***

Bucky smiled when Katerina opened the door of her apartment, showing off her assets in a barely-there negligee. The deep plum color flattered her. The painted smile she flashed had him looking forward to the evening ahead.

As he walked in, he saw there were artfully placed candles to set the mood. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air. There was a sumptuous charcuterie board with wine and glasses waiting for him, as she led him to the sofa.

“I missed you,” Kat promised him, her dark eyes sparkling.

Did she? Or was it her allowance that he continued after Rogers broke off from her?

It didn’t really matter. Bucky had plenty of money and Kat had something valuable to offer him in addition to sex. And the sex was pretty fantastic.

Bucky sank down onto her couch, letting her take a seat in his lap. She grinned to feel his hardness beneath her. Her slender hands slid up around his neck and she kissed his mouth with care and finesse.

Ending the kiss, he blew out an exhale. There was a little bit of business to attend to first.

“What’s on your mind, lover?” Kat asked sweetly.

Grinning, Bucky pulled his phone from his pocket. Hansen had sent him the picture an hour or so ago.

The smile faded from Kat’s face as she looked over the picture of the girl looking fearfully at the camera.

“I don’t want to see her.” She was pouting.

“Take a closer look,” Bucky bid her. “She’s not who you think.”

Kat looked at him in confusion. Then she really studied the picture. “Who? Who is she?”

“She’s nobody special to you,” he explained. “But she is missing.”

“Aside from the fact that she looks like her,” she wouldn’t say Mrs. Rogers, “why does she matter?”

“She works in a local donut shop,” Bucky told her as he pocketed his phone. “I need you to make sure your sister knows that. I want her to make sure Bruce Banner knows that.”

A smile slowly curved those sensuous lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I can do that.”

“But you want something?” Bucky wondered if she knew how easy she was to read.

Kat nodded, her long glossy curls catching the light. “I want to know why.”

That was the best part. And if Kat were going to continue helping him burn down Steve Rogers’ life, well, he decided he really should tell her something.

“Well, the last mission I sent you on worked spectacularly,” Bucky told her with a grin, brushing a kiss over her bare shoulder. “Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Banner had quite a fight.”

“Why does that matter?” she asked, very interested in the answer.

Bucky brushed another kiss over her neck. “It matters because the girl in that picture worked in a shop on Steve’s turf. Her older sister was best friends with Natasha in college. That should push Steve’s sister deeper into her current hysteria.”

The smile was brilliant now. “You’re pulling his entire world apart, aren’t you lover?”

“That’s the plan.” Bucky continued to press kisses to her warm skin. “To show him there’s no one I can’t reach. That no one around him is safe. Not the people he’s supposed to protect. Not his sister. Not his men… Not his new bride.”

The pout was back. “You should have taken her, not that girl.”

Hansen had come pretty close.

Bucky kissed those pouty lips. “In time,” he whispered against them.

@valsworldofcreativity

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[koutarostiddies]

Wedding Day Confession

This is a repost from my main blog

Fandom: Haikyuu

Pairing: Hajime Iwaizumi x reader

A/N: After going to a friend's wedding this past weekend with my adorable Osamu figurine, I decided to write some wedding fluff with Hajime because he has become my comfort character recently.

You tried to keep your voice down; the last thing you wanted was to have someone hear you and your boyfriend arguing at your friend’s wedding reception. You tried to process everything that had just happened; he cheated and he had the gall to bring up getting married to you all in the same breath.

“Just leave,” your voice was quiet, measured even, but the rage inside you threatened to boil over at any moment.

“How will you get home?”

“Now you care? I’ll figure something out--I always do.” He started to walk past you, only stopping briefly to look back with an almost apologetic expression. “Leave, now.” You watched him walk out of the small room and as soon as the door closed you sat down and cried. You cried so hard that you were shaking. The last time you had cried like that was--well it was foolish really, it was when you found out your best friend/crush moved to another city with his new girlfriend. Man, how you missed those nights where you’d just rest against him as you watched bad movies. Where was Iwaizumi now?

---------------------------------------------------------------

When you received the wedding invitation you didn’t hesitate to RSVP. You didn’t like weddings, you’d only ever go for the food, preferring your solitude to anything else. It was a bit foolish of you, especially considering that you had a long-term boyfriend, but you hoped that maybe you’d see Iwaizumi there. You didn’t even think about the possibility that he might still be with that girl, but it didn’t matter because you were with someone too (at least that’s what you told yourself).

“Babe, do you wanna go with me to my friend’s wedding this winter?”

“Thought you hated weddings?”

“Figured it’s the only time I’ll get to see some of my old friends that moved after we graduated.” You beamed at your boyfriend knowing that he could never say no to you.

“Of course, but we have to make sure not to upstage the lucky couple,” he joked.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Now you were at the wedding reception, newly single and in a storage room crying. God, you were so pathetic. Suddenly you were happy that you hadn’t run into many people from your past. You took a few deep breaths and wiped the remaining tears from your face. You looked at your hand and frowned when you saw the black streaks. Yup, your make-up was ruined, all the more reason for you to just head home before you scared any children that were running around.

You opened the door and stepped out without looking where you were going.

“Oops, I’m sorry, I didn’t see...y/n?” You looked up once you heard the familiar voice. Now he shows up?

“Iwa?”

“Y/N, I heard you were here, but I didn’t see you. I know you really don’t like weddings so I thought you just left, but...hey, are you okay?” Iwaizumi absentmindedly reached out to wipe a stray tear from your eye, something he used to do when you were younger.

“I’m fine.” You leaned into his warm hand before he pulled away. “It’s good to see you again, Iwa. Are you here by yourself? I mean, I’m not the only one in the friend group that doesn’t care for weddings. Here I was thinking that the only time you’d probably ever go to a wedding was if it was Oikawa’s and that’s probably purely out of obligation.”

“I’d attend just to ruin it.”

“Bullshit, Iwa. We both know you’d be the best man.”

“In your dreams. Only way I’m gonna walk down the aisle at that idiot’s wedding is if you’re by my side.” His comment brought a sudden blush to your face and you looked away immediately. You just broke up with your boyfriend and there you were thinking about walking down the aisle with your high school crush. Man, how things didn’t change. He was still the same Iwa, if not a bit more handsome.

“Are you really sure you’re okay? I mean you just walked out of the storage room looking like you did when I told you I was moving away.”

“Ouch, you had to bring that up again didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can always talk about other things. If it makes you feel better, I moved back a year ago.”

“Asshole, that would’ve only made me feel better if you had told me when you had moved back. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Eventually. I heard you had a boyfriend so I didn’t know if you were too busy to catch up.”

“Iwa, that is the most ridiculous reason not to contact your friend.” Iwa knew you were right, it was just an excuse. He had feelings for you and he knew that if he had seen you with your boyfriend it would only hurt. He wasn’t ready to come to terms with the idea that you were happy with someone else. It’s not like you didn’t deserve to be happy, he just wished it would’ve been with him.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyways because the asshole cheated on me so...yeah, guess I’m single now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Sucks that I had to find out when I did. The bride and groom could’ve saved on food.” you tried to make light of the situation.

“Wait, did you just find out today?” Iwa looked at you in shock and you simply nodded in response. “Y/N...man I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Iwa. How about you? You still with that girl or did you find some other poor soul to deal with you?” You sniffled as you smiled at him.

“Funny story, shortly after moving in with that girl she had cheated on me. She moved out, I got a roommate and stayed there until my lease was up. I stayed in the city for another couple of years because of my job, then I decided to move back here. I missed everyone. Granted, everyone has moved on with their lives, so catching up has been a bit difficult.”

“It’s especially difficult when your best friend makes terrible excuses as to why they didn’t tell you they moved back to town,” you nudged him with your shoulder.

“I’m sorry ok. I just couldn’t bear to see you...nevermind,” Iwa shook his head and looked away.

“Hey, you wanna go sit down somewhere?” You asked as you grabbed his hand. Iwa’s expression brightened and he followed you to your table.

“Hey y/n, where’s your boyfriend?” a woman Iwaizumi didn’t recognize asked.

“He’s no longer my boyfriend. Seems I wasn’t the only one so he left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman’s face reddened and she left the table.

“Damn, you sure know how to shut people up. Some things never change,” Iwa laughed.

The night carried on with the two of you catching up. You had promised to go visit Iwa at his job during a practice because there was no way you were going to miss out on watching your best friend push people around.

“I’m their trainer, not some sort of monster,” he cut you off in the middle of one of your wild scenarios you had made up for him.

“Oh c’mon, Iwa. I remember how you were in school. I’m not surprised that you chose this career.” Iwa frowned, but let it go, knowing you didn’t mean it in a negative way. Iwa had caught you looking at your phone and placed his hand on your arm, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just wondering when to call a cab to go home.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take you home and I won’t even charge you.”

“Oh, how generous,” you laughed, “but are you sure? You don’t have work or anything tomorrow?”

“No. Besides, it gives us more time to catch up. I owe you that since I didn’t tell you until now that I moved back.”

“You owe me because you brought up how much I cried when you told me you were moving,” you gave his hand a light smack and pouted.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?” You raised your brow and looked up at your friend.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner…”

“I’m okay, honestly, Iwa.”

“No, not about that.” Iwa took a deep breath and took your hand in his, “Listen, when I moved away with my ex,” he squeezed your hand when he felt it twitch in his. “I was running away. I knew it wasn’t going to work out with her. But I was scared to face my feelings. Honestly, if I wasn’t so stubborn and actually listened to Tooru none of it would’ve happened. But I just couldn’t come to terms with going along with one of Tooru’s ideas.” You watched Iwa intently as he continued to talk, hoping he wasn’t going to make you cry again--you had enough of that for the day.

“The truth is that the boy you knew back then was a coward who ran from his feelings, or at least hid most of them behind a wall of distaste and anger. I love you, Y/N; I always have. I just couldn’t deal with rejection and I was convinced you didn’t share my feelings so I went for the first girl that confessed to me.”

“Haji,” you muttered.

“You never call me by my name, Y/N,” he chuckled nervously.

“Haji, I cried so much that day because I loved you too. My heart was broken. Not only did I lose you to another girl, but you were moving away from you and I’d never see you again. I'm seriously hoping Maki didn’t tell you how much weight I lost after you left. I wasn’t eating much, just sleeping and going to classes. Guess you weren’t the only coward,” you squeezed his hand.

“If I, uh, if I confess, officially that is, will it be too soon? You know, since you just broke up and all.”

“Haji, I love you. I have never stopped loving you, so no, it’s not too soon. God, we’re such idiots. All this heartache could’ve been avoided if we had just confessed to each other four years ago.”

“Yeah, but then it wouldn’t have been such a romantic reunion,” Iwaizumi teased.

“Since when did you become such a romantic?” You laughed as he pulled you in for a hug.

“Since confessing my feelings to the woman I’ve dreamed of spending the rest of my life with,” Iwaizumi kissed your cheek before you turned your head to return a kiss to his lips. “Haji, let’s go back to your place. We have lots of catching up to do.”

[seita]

— size kink headcanons 2 [haikyuu!!]

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴜsʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ, ᴛᴇɴᴅᴏᴜ, ᴇɪᴛᴀ, sʜɪʀᴀʙᴜ + sᴀᴋᴜsᴀ.

⇦ blog navigation.

⇦ part 1 | part 3 ⇨

»»   ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──────  ««  

-ˏ͛ shiratorizawaˏ͛-

— wakatoshi ushijima.

∴ hes a big guy so ∴ as expected.... ∴ lit biggest dick of the team. ∴ but he’s actually pretty fuckin clueless about it too ∴ he isn’t actively aware there’s such thing as a size kink ∴ so he doesn’t actually have the kink ∴ but u do. so. ∴ welcome to the life ushiwaka.

+

“y-you’re so big toshi...” you whined, hands on his shoulders.

“i know,” he breathed, holding your hips to support you.

half his cock was buried inside of you and the stretch was aching. you could feel him reaching places no one else ever had. letting out a breath, you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as you ground your hips in a circle. he hit that glorious spot inside you and you clenched tight around him.

he groaned, eyes fixated on your cunt. the way you were stretched wide around him, not even taking his whole length yet had his cock throbbing. you were so small compared to him, so fragile. he could break you if he wanted to.

yet there you were, losing yourself on his cock, slowly easing yourself down so you could take in more of his length.

“good girl,” he whispered, moving his hand to circle your clit with his thumb until you finally bottomed out, settling in his lap. your walls seized around him and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning when he realized you were cumming.

— satori tendou.

∴ he likes size kink mostly bc he’s a bit of a sadist ∴ like he knows you struggle to take his dick ∴ and he knows it sometimes hurts ∴ seeing that pain on your face ∴ it’s euphoric to him ∴ and boy is he evil about it ∴ his dirty talk??? foul. filthy. humiliating ∴ he could make you cry from half the shit he says ∴ lil sadistic babie

+

“is that your cervix?” he scoffed, looking down to where his cock was buried within your cunt, “you haven’t even taken all of me.”

“satori...” you whined, pressing your hands against his chest as he tried to press even deeper.

he clicked his tongue, “what? does that hurt?” when you nod, he just gives you a crooked grin, “poor baby. but guess what? i want you to take all of my fuckin’ cock.”

“can’t!” you cry, sending his heart fluttering. he can hear the watery undertone as he gives you a disappointed look he knows makes the sub within you crumble.

“is that so?” he sighed, slowly pulling his cock out, “guess you aren’t gonna be my good girl after all, huh? oh well. i’ll just go jerk off into the toilet or somethin’.”

you whined and throw you arms around his shoulders to pull him back to you, making him grin, “wait! i can do it!”

he grins, feeling your tears wet his skin. he pats the back of your head, slowly sinking his cock back in. he hears you hiss as he keeps going until he’s finally fully seated within you, “see? i knew you could do it. now be a good girl and let me use your little cunt how i want. maybe you’ll cum if you’re lucky because i’m not gonna be tryin’ to get you off. this is about me now, understand?”

you whimper and nod, making him smile. of course you understand, you’re his good girl in the end.

— semi eita.

∴ #2 big dick on the team boink ∴ i said what i said ∴ this guy EXUDES BDE ∴ he knows how to use it too ∴ expect praise out the ass from him while he fucks you too ∴ how proud he is of you that you took him so well ∴ he pretty your pussy looks stuffed full, stretching to accommodate his fat length.

+

hands holding beneath your knees keeps you spread completely open, letting him rock his cock into your pussy. he’s only halfway in, not yet giving you the rest because he knows you need to adjust.

he hums, reaching to the side to pull the bottle of lube from where it was tangled in the sheets. he pops the lid and lets some fall onto your spread folds, continuing to rock his hips to spread the lube into your little hole.

he tosses the bottle away and brings his thumb to your clit, hard and swollen from neglect. he sucks in a breath, humming as he feels you squeeze around his cock in response.

“atta girl...” he breathes, voice deep and calm, finally working a bit more of his length into you, “let me in...good girl. feel that? you’re taking me so well.”

you hiss and he pauses, retreating for a second only to slowly work that length back in. your eyes flutter, reaching down to grip his wrist where it was between your thighs. he smiles as he realizes he had stopped playing with your clit, resuming the slow, intoxicating circles he knew you loved.

“think you can take more?” he asks, breathless. you nod and he pushes a bit more into you, “look at that...you’ve almost taken all of me. you’re such a good girl for me, just a bit more.”

he feels you work to relax your walls around him so he can finally bottom out. he does so with a groan, his eyes rolling back. he pauses, letting you get used to his cock. he continues his circles on your bud until you’re contracting and cumming so prettily around him. he grins, working you through the high with whispered praises. once you come down, he gives your clit a few firm pats to your bud, grinning when your body flinches under the contact.

“here we go, pretty girl,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “let me make you feel good.”

— kenjiro shirabu.

∴ he’s not the biggest guy around in general ∴ he’s like the smallest on the team lmao ∴ so to have a girlfriend who is small enough to make him feel BIG??? ∴ that rlly butters his biscuit ∴ so truthfully, he never knew he had the kink until you came along ∴ but now that it’s been discovered....oh boy....get ready ∴ he’s gonna humiliate the hell out of you (not to the extent of one satori tendou) ∴ but his dirty talk is filthy too lmao

+

“you like taking a cock that’s too big for you?” he growled, bottoming out quickly despite your protests for him to slow down, “oh quiet down. i can feel how wet you are.”

“kenjiro...” you whined, trembling beneath your boyfriend’s frame as he grinned.

“what is it? do you want to cum?” he’ll ask, “if you cum now you’ll squirt everywhere. you know you can’t handle cumming around my cock. is that you want? to make a mess?”

“yes!” you beg, tears stinging your eyes as you nod.

he grins and starts slowly fucking you with his cock. you’re creaming all over him and it’s driving him crazy. with just a few thrusts against your sweet little spot, you’re gushing all around him and soaking his length with your cum.

“you’re so fucking messy, little whore,” he growls, “now sit there and let me use this sloppy hole how i want.”

-ˏ͛ itachiyamaˏ͛-

— kiyoomi sakusa.

∴ doesn’t know that it’s a kink that exists ∴ and truly didn’t get anything out of seeing you struggle to take his cock ∴ until you actually voiced your arousal over it ∴ and then he was like ‘ok.....i see.....i can get behind this....’ ∴ and now he rlly digs it tbh ∴ he’s a simple man, really

+

“too big, omi,” you cry, clinging to the sheets beneath you as he stuffs you full of his cock.

“shut up,” he snaps, continuing to sink his length into you until you reach up and press your hands against his chest to get him to stop, “hands off.”

“pl-please,” you whine, voice teary, “s-slow down.”

he shakes his head and shoves your hands away from him, pushing even more into you. you’re breathing hard but you’re soaking his cock so he knows it’s not that bad. you’re just a dramatic little crybaby and he knows that. but he also knows you’ll take what he tells you to so he continues on until he’s bottoming out.

“s-so full...you’re so deep, omi,” you babble, eyes hazy, “you fill me up so much. g-gonna make me cum s-soon.”

he scoffs, pulling back so only half his length remains before shoving that same amount back in. you squeal and shriek out his name. he grits his teeth and slaps his hand over your mouth so hard you flinch.

“fuckdolls don’t talk,” he hisses, “shut the fuck up and let me use you.”

»»   ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──────  ««  

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.    

[donutloverxo]

How big do you think Steve is....? 👀☕

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

I've got like a lot of feelings and thots about this but I'll just summarize them with this... smut, Steve has bde and a big🍆🍆, cumplay, this is like really filthy.

"Yes... um, Captain," Stacey bit her lip, she couldn't help herself. She knew she shouldn't be checking out her friends man but she was sure you'd forgive her. This was Captain freaking America. It would be an injustice to not appreciate his beauty. "What brings you to our little corner today?"

"Um... I'm here to see L/N," blushing a deep shade of pink and rubbing the back of his neck. The bouquet of lillies in his hand, and one of chocolates in another only making him stand out more so.

Stacy chuckled at his misery. "You call her by her last name? Hm... I actually think she'd like it better if it was the other way around."

Steve quirked a brow because he didn't understand what she meant by that. Smiling when he saw you return to your seat. "What're you doing here?" with a sweet smile on your face. Leaning up on your tippy toes to give him a small peck on his lips. "It's a nice surprise."

"Just wanted to give you these," he said as he handed the flowers and the chocolates over to you, "And to ask you to maybe have dinner at my place tonight?"

You giggled as you opened the lid of the box, mouth watering at the variety of sweets to select from, "Stevie, we're in a relationship now. You don't have to ask me out every single time." As you plopped a mint one in your mouth.

"It still feels nice to," He said before kissing you goodbye to return to his floor.

You offered some of your chocolates to Stacey, who seemed to be giving you the side eye for some reason.

"Is it true?" She asked.

"Is what true?"

"Does he have a fifteen inch long cock?"

Which made you choke on the coconut that was in your third chocolate. "What the hell?!"

"You gotta tell me. I promise I'll cover any of your shifts for you while you go on getaways with him to like Europe or something. I'll do your boring paper work. Alright, I understand you wanna keep his privacy," she nodded, bringing her hands together, "Just say when," She said as her palms started drifting apart.

"Stop that!" you swatted at her palms. "I don't know how big he is. We're taking it slow." You huffed. Going slow was his idea. He was old school in that way. You had no idea how you had resisted from climbing him like a tree for so many months.

"Listen, girl, it's just that he has major BDE. When he gives those speeches, and those clips of him fighting bad guys, you just know he has a big dick."

You did believe he had big dick energy as well. At a low moment you told him your supervisor was being an ass to you, even calling you a slut once for dating Captain America. You didn't want to burden him with your problems, which seemed to insignificant in front of his, and you didn't want him to do anything brash.

The very next day he paid your boss a visit. He didn't flaunt the fact that he was Captain America or a very powerful man. He didn't need to. He naturally had a very commanding presence. He just gave a long lecture to your boss on how to respect women, after which they never bothered you again.

You'd never admit this to Steve but you literally wanted to jump his bones them. He looked so fucking hot defending your honor like that. He was your knight in shining armor and you'd let him to anything to you.

Not to mention, you could see the outline of his probably long and thick dick in his jogging pants. That one unfortunate morning you agreed to go running with him. The only good thing that came out of it was that you got to oggle his ass and his dick.

You could feel his hands squeezing your breasts over your dress, you broke the kiss to take a look at him. Glassy eyes and cheeks flushed red, his chest heaving because you took his breath away.

"I wanna go all the way, Stevie." You demanded. "I've waited long enough for you."

"You know I could never say no to you, doll. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Which he most definitely did. He must've spent like an hour between your legs, using his mouth and his fingers, worshipping evey inch of your body. You felt him rutting against the mattress but chose not to say anything.

"Wait, stop..." you pushed his head away, your pussy too sensitive after the third orgasm to be touch again as he pouted up at you. You sat up on your butt, "I wanna suck your cock," you said, making grabby hands for it.

"Um... you sure, doll? You don't have to," he was too shy to be naked in front of you. He still had his pants and underwear on. You were going to insist that he take it all off but you could barely handle a shirtless Steve, a completely naked one would probably turn your brain to mush.

"Yes I want it! Do you not want me?" your voice quivering just a little. You knew he wanted you, of course he did. But why can't he be vulnerable with you like you are with him?

"No no," he cupped your face, kissing your forehead, "Of course I want you. I want you more than anything else in the world. It's just that... I'm big. Before the serum it was pretty average and now... women get surprised a little."

"How big?" you sniffled.

"I guess you'll see," he said, pulling his briefs and his pants down at the same time.

You let out a loud gasp when you saw it. A literal monster cock. "Oh my god...." you breathed out, "I don't think that's gonna fit in me, Stevie.."

It was the biggest you've ever seen. Pink, long and thick, you could even make out a few veins on it, standing tall and proud against his hard abs, some blonde hair at the base of it. Pearly pre ejaculate oozing out of him, which made you salivate.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, angel," he stroked your hair, "That's for me to figure out. You just have to sit there and make good on your promise. Now come on, open up," he tapped his tip on your lips and you opened as wide as you could.

He wasn't even halfway in when he hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him. He softly fucked into your mouth, which some sucking and help from you. Holding onto your head lovingly as he spoke about how good you made him feel.

"You gonna swallow it for me?" he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

'I wouldn't let a drop escape.' You wanted to say but it came out all jumbled since your mouth was stuffed full.

Finally you felt ropes of his spend hit the back of your throat. You were naive to think you'd swallow it all. You could barely get half of it no matter how hard you tried, most of it spilled out of your mouth and onto your chest.

He finally pulled out, looking at his girl so proudly, so eager to please him.

"I'm sorry," you said, as you tried to gather as much of his cummies off your body as you could. It tasted salty, the aftertaste being just a little bit sweet. You wondered if that was because of the serum too. "I promise I'll get it all next time. I'll be more prepared."

"'is not your fault, doll. There's... a lot of it."

"I like that though," you whined up at him as you licked your fingers, "I like it. It means you love me so much you made like tons of goodies for me."

He chuckled at that, pecking your lips, "I do love you a lot."

He made you lie back to make sure you were comfortable, wrapping your legs around his hips, "You tell me if it hurts okay, baby?" he asked to which you gave him a meek nod.

Bracing yourself for the pain. Despite how wet and ready and relaxed you were, it still hurt initially. But you asked him to keep going because you wanted to make him feel good and take all of him.

After a few moments you asked him to move.

"Your dick is so beautiful, Stevie." You beamed up at him.

"Not as beautiful as you, doll." He groaned as he pulled his hips back before rutting back into you.

"Nooo," you whined. This man needed to learn how to take a compliment! "No, your dick is so pretty. It's yours, and I'm in love with it."

"I'll promise you one thing, honey. You'll be the only one who gets to see it again from now on. It's for your eyes only now."

"Forever?" you pouted.

"Yes, forever."

You looked down at where both your sexes were joined together, "Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on, Captain," you said as you clenched around him, making him bite the crook of your neck.

"Did you just give my dick a petname?"

"Yes, do you like it?" you asked, hopefully.

Steve would rather have you call him Captain. But you seemed so excited, "Yes, of course. You can call it whatever you like, baby."

He was trying to pull out of you to come, of course you wouldn't have that so you pulled him closer to you by wrapping your legs around him.

"I'm good..." you rasped, "got an implant and everything." Which would protect you from having any super soldier babies. "Please come in me."

"How can I say no that," his thrusts became a little more rushed and erratic. You could feel his warm cum fill you up and then ooze out of you as he pulled out.

He tched as he looked at your swollen pussy, "That won't do..." he said as he tried to push his cum inside of you but it was too much for your small cute pussy.

"I've got plugs at my home we can use to keep it in..." you moaned, extra sensitive to his touch then. "Can I have some more of it, please?"

You asked as he scoped your combined juices up with his fingers before feeding it to you.

"Just for now, doll. Next time we'll try that plug idea of yours," he said as he made sure you thoroughly sucked his fingers clean.

[aenaxes-moved]

momentum

[hunter x afab!reader] hunter thinks it's a good idea for you to learn hand-to-hand. and if it's a way for you to see him sweaty, sleeveless, and in close quarters, who are you to turn down the perfect opportunity?

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex

w/c: 4.7k

a/n: i'm a simple creature—i see the sexual tension of hand-to-hand combat, and i am brought low. also the marauder has a cargo hold for literary purposes, now. anyways enjoy my first nsfw fic on this blog. reposting bc tumblr censored me :/

“Try again,” Hunter orders as he crouches down beside where you lie sprawled, chest heaving and arms limp on the training mat. “Just like I showed you: trap the wrist, lock the arm, twist and throw.”

“Unlike you,” you wheeze, struggling to lift your head off the floor, “I’m not exactly built to throw people around.” You forego your weak attempt to get up, and you swear you feel your teeth rattle as the back of your head hits the mat with a dull thud.

You turn your head, meeting the sergeant's piercing gaze with a weary half-grimace half-grin. There’s a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes—maybe incredulity—that he might be training a half-fledged jedi in the brutally graceful art of floorslamming an opponent over a shoulder while the others had taken Omega on a trip to meet the natives. It’s something you should know well, having spent your youth under the wild and unrelenting martial acrobatics of master Voss, but at the end of the day, you would choose swordplay over brute physicality without hesitation.

Especially if you’re facing off against an opponent who can and has hefted you high above his head and practically launched you across the training mat.

If Hunter’s amused at all by this knowledge, he only makes it known with a huff.

“Empire’s out for your head; you need to learn to fight in more ways than your fancy jedi training. That includes hand-to-hand just in case you lose your lightsaber. Again.”

“That was once, Hunter!” you whine, warmth spreading across your cheeks. But he’s right. Loathe as you are to admit it, no amount of force pushing would have gotten you out of that mess on Onderon, and it was a miracle (otherwise known as Echo) that you’d found your lightsaber at all.

It’s an embarrassing memory and, deeper down, a dangerous one that could have ended in more than stray blaster fire. Petulant as you would like to be, Hunter has a point. So you reach up, flapping your hand about until you feel Hunter’s hand wrap around yours, callused and firm, and yank you up to your feet. You stumble as you regain your footing, but as soon as you’ve collected your bearings, you’re shaking your hands out and bouncing on the tips of your toes.

“Fuck it. Let me try again.”

“Do you want me to go slower on the approach?” Hunter asks, this time, a sure note of playful teasing dancing over his tongue. The corners of his lips curl up, imperceptible to most, but you’ve flown long enough with the crew to pick up on his slight giveaways. You narrow your eyes, fixing him with an accusatory frown.

“‘Imps won’t slow down for you y/n,’” you parrot his words with a sour expression, begrudging theatrics complete with an exaggerated eye roll.

Hunter laughs, but he’s already drawing back into a low crouch, arms raised and muscles coiled, ready to strike. You take the brief moment of clarity between your warm up and readying stance to admire him, his hair tied with his bandana, piercing eyes set in a razor focus as his chest rises and falls, even, steady. The sharp clarity is made complete, authentic, with his garb. Having swapped his standard blacks for a sleeveless top, a sheer veil of sweat glimmers brushed over the toned muscle rippling under his skin. It’s an appealing point of motivation, a reward for the small price of being thrown around for the past hour.

“You’re learning,” Hunter smiles, small and crooked, but a smile that breaks past his stolid stoicism nonetheless. “Attagirl.”

Your heart flutters, and you lunge.

Two rapid steps, and you’re meeting Hunter in the middle as he rushes towards you. Right foot, anchor heel, pivot, and the sharp wind of his arm shooting forward nearly knocks the breath from your lungs as it just barely brushes past your cheek.

He’s fast. But you’re faster, you challenge, and you shoot your left arm up, closing your grip with your right hand and trapping his forearm in your hands just beneath the hem of his glove. And when you find secure purchase, confident enough that he can’t counter, you yank with a sharp, vindictive shout. For the first time today, your grip holds.

You feel him roll over your shoulder, guided by your hand, compelled by gravity, and you’ve won. After all the blocks and parries and attacks-turned-scrambling-defenses, you’ve got Hunter exactly where you want him. Hunter may have size, bulk, experience—well, everything other than the Force—that you don’t, but if he’s taught you anything during your time with the batch it’s that timing is king.

You whoop as you feel his back roll off yours, squeezing your eyes shut as you claim your victory into the empty cargo hold.

You forget, however, the unspoken and very important step of letting go.

As soon as the split-second of simple victory flashes through you, you yelp, pulled off your feet and centre of balance flung off to the far reaches of the room. You’re reduced to an ungraceful flail of limbs and panicked disorientation as you fall, bracing yourself for an imminent collision and a sure promise of a bruise the day after. But instead of the forgiving, plasticky foam of the floor, you land with a soft oof on something else, harder than the mat, damp, bony…?

When you open your eyes, you’re propped up on one elbow, your other shoulder dipped close against Hunter’s chest, and your nose just a breath away from his collar, and, Maker help you, you can see his collarbones, sharp and clean through his blacks, rising and falling rhythmically with his heavy, straining breaths. You lift your head just in time to meet Hunter’s eyes, lightly curtained by one single swath of perfectly mussed stray hair, pupils blown wide with pride, wonder, and—

Shit.

“Uh, yay me?” you offer weakly, hoping you can blame the tremble in your voice on bone-deep exhaustion, not the blooming heat roiling in your gut.

“Yeah,” Hunter says, eyes trained on yours, steady and still.

It doesn’t take force sensitivity to feel the tension buzzing high in what little space separates your faces, the boundaries of playful sportsmanship bowing under the weight of testing curiosity, circling, prodding. The breath that passes your lips quivers, of which you’re only aware when you see Hunter’s eyes flick briefly to your lips. He lingers a moment, and you swallow hard, almost audibly, when you catch a flash of his tongue darting over his lower lip.

It might be an adrenaline high—his dilated pupils, the wild thumping of your heart against your ribs. High velocity combat and being thrown flat onto your back would do that.

You hope it isn’t.

The silence is enough to steal the sound from your tongue, just low breathing as you hover above him. It demands to be broken, something to be the first push back into the rhythm of which you have become so accustomed, the comfortable banter and competition devoid of anything more than meaningless flirting. Because for his ruggedly handsome looks, his commandeering presence, an aura that had men and women sending him drinks from across the bar, you had never let yourself seriously entertain the idea of being able to have him.

It’s hard to entertain attraction, much less romance, when you and the batch are high priority on the Empire’s list to shoot on sight, but the possibility has kept you awake at night, fingers shoved between your thighs while he sleeps two doors down. The fantasy of having, breathing him in like air, makes you feel alive, makes you feel the rare and fleeting feeling of safety. You, exiled jedi. Him, one of millions, the dedicated soldier sworn to a cause.

And yet, here you are.

Hunter lifts one hand from the floor, reaching up to brush the hair from your eyes, and you find yourself having to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from turning your head and nuzzling into his palm, from pushing close and staying, indulging. And while your mind blurs in the frantic flurry of fighting it, he gives in freely, turning his wrist to run his gloved thumb over your jaw. It’s the softest you’ve ever found standard issue blacks to feel, but more importantly, it’s the closest he’s ever been.

“Yay you,” he whispers.

Hunter leans forward, sliding his hand across the side of your neck, his thumb soft at your ear as he curls his fingers into your hair and closes the distance. One moment there’s a vast breadth of space between you; the next, you feel Hunter’s nose brushing over your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin for that last moment of separation. Then you’re moving with him, meeting his lips with soft motions pleading for more as you slide one hand up into his hair and press your chests flush.

He doesn’t taste quite like your dreams, all smooth, sweet freshness dancing over your tongue. Instead, there is raw exhaustion and strain bitter and heady on his skin as he licks over your lower lip. But no matter; it is real and present and Hunter all the same.

The training room silence is broken when he nudges a knee between your legs, pressing close between the want pooling low in your belly, as you barely manage to muffle a whimper into his mouth, breathy and high as you break away to gasp. Hunter grants you that moment of rest, and he’s pulling you back down against him again, holding you tight.

“I’ll stop if you want,” he mumbles against your lips. “We stop, and we forget this ever happened. But.” He pauses to nip at your lips. “You give me the word, and we take this as far as you want, y/n. Understood?”

You nod, too busy chasing his tongue to feel his gaze fixed on you. And, as always, your blissful ignorance does not escape Hunter’s watchful eye. You whine as you feel his fingers close around your chin and lift, pulling away just enough that you can see his dark eyes steady on yours.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper, reduced to little more than pleading submission, doe-eyed and dreamy as he slowly runs his thumb over your lip. “Want you, Hunter. Need you.”

“Attagirl.”

He makes a noise that sounds like quiet laughter, but all you care about is that he’s nuzzling against your skin and holding you close. Hunter kisses you with a trembling restraint that you practically feel vibrating under his touch, the excitement of being able to have, the roiling fear of intimacy, vulnerable and open under your palms.

It’s something you know well. You feel the same.

“We should really wash up,” he murmurs into your mouth.

“‘Fresher’s big enough for two,” you say a bit cheekily.

“You really want it all, huh?” Hunter chuckles, squeezing the back of your neck as he presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Never get anything if you don’t ask,” you smile against his lips.

“Can’t disappoint the lady, then, can I?” he grins, dropping his head back down onto the training mat. You sigh, resting your cheek on his collar for a single breath before you feel him shift beneath you, pulling you into his lap as he sits upright. Hunter offers you a final peck, a promise for more in just a short while.

You silently promise you’ll return to the hold come morning and clean up the mats before Echo can chew you out for any sloppiness, but cleanliness is the least of your concerns as you stumble with Hunter towards the threshold, all soft laughter and kisses strayed off their mark. Whatever concerns about anything other than the bliss of the now are even more obscured as the refresher doors slide shut behind you. You laugh as Hunter twists out of his blacks, which almost has you tripping out of your own, but he’s there to catch you, sturdy arms and warm skin to pull you into the stall and under a startling shock of cold water.

Maybe it’s that brief shock of cold before the showerhead runs warm that offers you a moment of clarity, the space and quiet to realize where you stand and take in the man before you. You’re no stranger to proximity, having spent more than one mission squeezed up against Hunter’s side, but closeness doesn’t begin to describe where you stand now, bared to each other beyond simple undress.

A smattering of scars stretches over Hunter’s skin, an organized chaos of milky pockmarks and slashes so often hidden under his armor. You recognize a few, blaster fire and frightened memories of blood and acrid fear, and the rest you save for a later night when you’ve sated the flutter in your chest as your eyes drift lower.

It would be embarrassing, how your mouth waters when you catch sight of his cock, half-hard and framed by a dark thatch of curls. But any need for shame is dismissed by the sheer gravity of want because he’s thick. You had always imagined him to be big—that isn’t much of a surprise—but your stomach churns delightfully at the thought of him stretching you open, making you feel him for days after.

“You’re staring,” Hunter huffs softly.

“Can you blame me?” you breathe.

Hunter laughs, rich and resonant over the patter of the shower spray, and he reaches that short distance forward, gently taking your hand in his and lifting your palm to his lips. You step backwards, letting him crowd you between the wall as you cup his cheek.

His hands, rarely bared to his brothers, let alone you, are strong and weary with scars of war, and he lets them follow the slope of your arm, tracing down your shoulder, your waist, and coming down to your hips, seeing in full clarity under his fingertips.

“Hold on tight.”

“Hunter, wait—ah!”

You yelp as he slips his forearms under your thighs without warning, hefting you up against the cool metal. In your hazy delirium, it occurs to you that you’re both exhausted from sparring and that him holding you up would only wear him down further. You want to tell him you’re perfectly fine on your feet. But whatever protest you may have had planned dies on your lips with a choked sob when you feel his fingers knead into the soft skin of your thighs and tug.

You arch off the wall, breath catching in your throat when you feel Hunter shift his hips forward and anchor you in place as he grinds his cock over your clit. Any hope of forming coherent words, let alone sound, is completely beyond you, now. Heat coils in your gut, all-consuming, white-hot tension pulled tight and ready to snap with each slow motion he makes.

And—the bastard—he’s good at it, too, leaving you squirming under his grip when he shifts away, cruelly aware of the brief moment just as your pleasure crests. Hunter lets you whine, filling the space with firm, insistent kisses over your collar: enough time for your high to ebb, enough time for him to stoke the frustration, the need tight in your core. Then he’s pressing your hips against the wall again and chasing you forwards, hips flush as he nips over your jaw.

All you find yourself able to do is dig your nails into his shoulders and sob.

“Shit, are you crying?” Hunter gasps, nearly dropping you down into a helpless heap under the warm water.

You shake your head wildly, locking your ankles around the small of his back as you keep him in place. It’s enough to startle him back into stillness, and he readjusts his grip on your thighs, the weight of his cock heavy against your throbbing cunt as you gasp for breath.

“I just—I’m fine,” you laugh, bordering delirious as stray drops of water catch on your tongue. “Just fuck me, Hunter. Make it better,” you breathe, chest heaving as you lick your lips. “Please.”

You know the expression that flashes across his face, the need to tease and prod, making gentle light of a dire situation. But this time, Hunter does not entertain it with his signature deadpan drawl, instead meeting you with a soft, imploring kiss.

“So pretty when you beg,” he whispers.

You open your mouth to offer a snappy retort; even in your desperation, there must be some dignity. Instead, your ears fill with the sound of your stuttering gasp over the water pattering against the refresher walls as, finally, finally, you feel the blunt head of his cock dip into your cunt.

Hunter pushes into you with a maddening slowness, one that reduces you to breathless whimpering broken between what gasps you can take. You dig your heels into his back and meet him with a straining moan because Maker, he’s even bigger than you thought, and it’s everything you’ve ever needed.

“Gotta breathe,” Hunter grunts, sinking deeper into you.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a reminder for you or for him, but you manage to slip in a gasping breath before he’s nudging up against a spot that has tears blurring your vision in dizzy euphoria. And when you come down from that high spark, legs jerking over his arms, he’s still pushing impossibly deep into you.

You watch him in a dazed trance, fixed on how his brows furrow with each quiet, flinching gasp that passes his parted lips as your cunt flutters around him. And how, through it all, his eyes never leave yours, boring into you with a fierce intensity, devotion, demanding your attention and pleading for your touch. It’s more than pure physicality, sex under the crushing uncertainty of a bounty and the shadow of conquest at your heels. He reaches for you, as open as he’s ever been, and you reach back.

“Hunter, I—”

Your words give way to a long, aching moan as you feel the sharp dip of his hips finally press up against your ass, filling you like you’ve always been meant to take him. (And you have, you swear, to him, to everything you know.)

“Gonna start moving, okay?” Hunter says through a shuddering sigh. He trails one hand up your side, thumbing over your chin while you tremble in his arms. “Cyar’ika, tell me I can.”

“Please,” you whimper.

And he delivers. You whine, feeling the slow drag, the toe-curling burn as Hunter eases almost completely out of you then pushes back in, just as slow as the first. He’s measured in his motions, and if you could see past the tears welling in your eyes, you’re sure you would see the razor focus over his features. There’s a tense edge you can barely make out from your slack-jawed disorientation, a restraint behind each careful thrust. He’s savoring it, you think as you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

But when Hunter jerks forward, punching the breath from your lungs as he drives up hard, pulling an obscene noise from your lips with a stuttering apology, you realize it’s not some way to draw this out as long as humanly possible. And as good as it is now, it’s not enough.

“H-Hunter,” you start. “Hunter, you—you don’t have to hold back—!” Your voice rises to a wavering pitch when you feel his thumb trail down your stomach, nestling close above where you part around him as he starts to rub gentle motions into your clit.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps sharply with you when he presses deep again.

“You—you physically threw me across the cargo hold—like an hour ago,” you laugh through hiccupy sighs.

“That was different,” he chokes out a soft chuckle. “I want this to be good. For you.”

Trembling wildly, you muster the strength to lift your hand to his cheek, stroking over his wet skin as the refresher patters down around you. The aching stretch of Hunter’s cock between your thighs ebbs into something sweet, warming your chest when he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“You are good to me,” you whisper, brushing your thumb over his skin. “I want this. I want you.”

You hear him inhale sharp, holding his breath as he meets you with dark eyes, wide and searching. To his gaze, you offer him a soft smile. And it’s enough.

You barely have enough time to loop your arms around his neck and hold as Hunter shifts his grip, firm and high up on your thighs, and starts a brutal pace that has you near screaming into his neck. Your legs jerk helplessly with every relentless thrust, and you find yourself knotting your fingers into his hair, cradling his head for some—any—purchase you can find.

It’s reminders like this that while Hunter doesn’t have the imposing stature or towering height of his brothers, his sheer presence alone is overwhelming, surrounding you and consuming you whole in ways the others simply could never. The power is intoxicating, crushing in its pressure, the submission and release to pleasure it demands of you, and you sob, a whiny, choked sound you barely hear over the frantic, wet slap of Hunter’s skin against yours. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and it’s so, so achingly good.

“Fuck, I’ve always—” Hunter gasps, craning his neck to nuzzle up against your jaw. “I’ve always wanted to do this. To have you like this.” You turn your head, meeting him in a lopsided kiss, all tongue and shared breath. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

“More,” you whine, crying out when he pins you against the wall, just so he might reach between your thighs again and thumb insistently over your clit.

Even with the water showering over your skin, you’re distinctly aware of the tears streaking down your cheeks, only fitting for the overwhelming sensation building in your core, cresting in blinding heat with every drag, every ridge of his cock moving inside you.

He fucks into you with soft noises, low enough that they might be drowned out by the sound of water if you weren’t pressed so close. It’s fitting, that the stolid discipline of a sergeant might follow him off the battlefield and into the bedroom, but as characteristic of him as it may be, you can’t bring yourself to particularly care—not when he’s holding you up like a ragdoll and bending you to his pleasure. You cling tighter to him with a muffled sob.

It’s nothing like your nights alone in your bunk, wishing for a warm body and something more than hopeful fantasy. Where your fingers only offered you a shot of momentary bliss, this feels like you’re falling apart in his hands, utterly powerless in only the best of ways as the coil in your gut draws tight.

“‘m close,” you croak as the heat seeps bone-deep, spreading down your spine, blazing in the tips of your fingers, and finding home in the buzzing haze between your eyes. “Hunter, I’m—I’m so close.”

“Let go,” Hunter croons, bearing the rough pad of his thumb harder against your clit, pressing firm with every thrust forward, soothing as he draws back. Your cunt squeezes down around him with the spike in want pooled in your gut, drawing a low moan from his lips, and he meets you with a thrust hard enough that you squeal. “Doin’ so well, cyar’ika.”

Trembling, you bury your nose in the juncture of his neck, but you’re pressed backward instead, a light, unyielding pressure at your neck before the back of your head is guided against the metal wall. Hunter holds you at the throat, nothing but a hovering presence of his warmth over your skin, but enough that he commands your attention, steady gaze, pupils blown as he thrusts up against you, pushing you higher and higher against that mindless gap of pleasure with every intent to pull you apart.

“Look at me, y/n,” he murmurs, low and hoarse. “Look at me when you come.”

He drives into you once more, hard, and the tension mounting in your gut breaks like a dam, flooding over your tongue in sweet, simple pleasure that pulses and shudders through your core. You feel it like your body, your visceral pleasure, is not your own, floating in a mindless state of bliss no longer anchored to anything but your rapidly beating heart and the shivering tremors buzzing at your fingertips. Lips parted in a silent cry, your lashes flutter as you let yourself be swept up in the peak of your pleasure, swept up in him, his gaze trained firm, fond on yours.

And you’re too fucked out to do more than gasp, breathy, stuttering inhales as Hunter settles his hands around your waist and starts a pace impossibly faster than before. Somehow, through the aching tremor in your legs and your limp form pressed up against the wall, you manage to keep your grip steady and keep your arms wrapped snug around Hunter’s shoulders. He pulls your pleasure, agonizingly long with no end in sight, chasing his high as you whimper and plead unintelligibly into his ear.

“C-Close?” you manage, digging your fingertips deeper into the sinew of his back.

Hunter hums, a feeble attempt to keep what little composure he has left, but you feel his movements lose the steady rhythm he had maintained thus far, forgoing fluidity and grace for the raw and primal need to satiate. Lucid sensation beyond you, you simply let him take his fill, lazily running your tongue over his lips and holding him tight as he continues to fuck into you with erratic, stuttering thrusts.

And not a moment later, Hunter bears your hips down hard on his, gasping like he’s taken his first breath of air as his climax thunders through him. You squirm in his hold with a thready groan, reveling in the warm spurts of come filling your cunt and oozing down the curve of your ass onto the refresher floor. For all your exhaustion, you curl your fingers at the base of his neck, pulling him close into a slow, lazy kiss, more languid touches than an actual kiss, but a promise of intimacy all the same.

Hunter tips forward and shifts one arm to wrap snug around the small of your back, propping you both against the wall with the other as the tension drains from his coiled poise. He sags forward with a final, shuddering sigh, pulling out of you and setting you on your wobbly feet, to which you promptly pitch forward against his shoulder.

He laughs and catches you with breathless ease.

“I have no idea how we didn’t slip,” you gasp through heaving inhales, shuddering as you feel warm rivulets of come dripping down the skin of your inner thigh. As the pleasure subsides, you return to your surroundings in a haze, faintly aware of the running showerhead, the steam, and you drop your head forward, knocking your forehead gently against Hunter’s.

“Neither do I,” he laughs and nuzzles close. “Next time, we’ll pick somewhere with less water.”

“Next time?” you prod, knowing full well that neither you nor Hunter were particularly fond of mindless flings.

“Next time,” Hunter grins, tipping his head forward and brushing his lips over your brow.

“If you two are done in there!” Echo’s voice, exasperation weary and gruff, cuts through the patter of water against the metal paneling with a bang, nearly sending you and Hunter scrambling apart if the refresher stall wasn’t already so narrow. “We need showers!”

“What do you mean ‘you two?’” Omega chirps from outside the door. You have to clap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing aloud as you watch the rosy pallor drain from Hunter’s face as you hear her muffled protests as someone (likely Wrecker) coaxes her away.

“Not it—you’re giving her the talk,” you quip, biting back a smile as you peck his cheek.

“Maker help me,” he mutters.

[jadegrey711]

Snow Covered Dream

Eric Northman x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello my loves so I got this request for a soft Eric Northan what feels like eons ago, and I’m finally feeling some inspiration for it. It’s been particularly hard for me for this one since when i originally started writing for it I had a good thing going and while I was an my ipad i rotated it and somehow deleted everything I had. So this is attempt number two for this one. I hope you guys like it and if you could show it some love! And to the sweet person who sent this request in I really hope you think it’s worth the wait. 

Prompt: Hey can I send a request in for Eric Northman x reader please? Could you maybe do one where him and the reader have been seeing each other for some time now and then they have sex for the first time and it’s really sweet and the reader lets eric bite her for the first time and they just realise how much they love each other, if not don’t worry about it! Thank you, love your writing!

*NOT MY GIF. ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

Word Count: 3212  Holy fuck this became it’s own novel. I think this is the most I’ve ever written for something like this. Fuck i hope it’s not shit 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

Warnings: 18+ people. Oral (f recieving), mentions of blowjobs, Tantric sex (if you squint), vaginal sex 

Song Inspiration: 

Best Part - Daniel Caesar, H.E.R

Morning View - Towkio, SZA

Looking Through your Eyes - LeAnn Rimes

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This isn’t the first time that Eric has stolen you away for some kind of romantic adventure. He’s been around for a thousand years and there’s just so many places he wants to show you; places you’ve never even heard of and spots that feel like no other human has laid a foot there before. 

However, this adventure felt different, like when it was over Eric wasn’t planning on letting you go; like he planned to keep you and you couldn’t find anything bad about that. 

“Eric are you ever going to tell me where we are going?” You smiled, seeing the mischievous smirk on his lips. 

“We are already here, sötma.” he stated and you swore his smile got wider, as you quickly whipped your head back towards the window to see if you could finally see your destination. But only found the same endless snowy expanse out your window. 

“Where?” 

“This is all of my property. It’s not huge but just a bit further up this road there’s a little house I keep for when I want to truly get away from everything.”

You waited for a few more minutes keeping your eyes peeled out the window for any sign of the house and then suddenly just out in the distance you saw a spot of bright red. You felt your excitement grow as you watched the house steadily come into view. That spot of bright red growing until you could finally see the whole house; a bright red one that was nestled right in the middle of the property surrounded by what looked like a small farm house and hidden away by the snow covered pine trees that surrounded it.To put it in a word it looked magical.  

“Do you like it sötma?” Eric asked, turning his head just enough to gauge your reaction. 

“Oh Eric! It’s so beautiful! It’s like a snow covered dream.” You said wistfully and then pulled your focus from the car window to Eric and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. 

Eric hummed his satisfaction. “I’m so glad you like it. This is one of my favorite places and I thought I might share it with one of my favorite people. I can’t wait to show you the rest of the house, I think you’ll really enjoy it.” 

“I’m sure I will.” You beamed at him and took his hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. “I’m never disappointed with anything you show me Eric.” 

Eric said nothing at your praise, but simply took your hand that was holding his and pressed a few kisses to your knuckles, before taking your wrist and kissing the palm of your hand; sending a flush of warmth through you despite the endless cold outside the car. 

When Eric pulled up in front of the house, you immediately got out of the car and stepped out onto the fresh snow just to marvel at the bright red house. The way the snow was settled perfectly on the tops of the roof and on the pine trees that surrounded the house it looked like the perfect christmas card. 

“How come you never told me you lived in a Hallmark movie?” You asked turning back to face Eric who had both your bag and his slung under each arm. 

“I don’t. It’s just Sweden. Everything looks like a Hallmark movie here in winter.” he chuckled as the both of you walked towards the large wooden front door. Eric easily maneuvered the bags in his hands to pull out the small set of keys and quickly unlocked the front door, letting you both into the house and out of the cold of the outside. However, there wasn’t much relief from the cold inside the house either. 

You started to shiver as you made your way to the center of the cold house, clutching your jacket tighter to your body. 

Eric looked over and saw you shivering and immediately took off his jacket and put it on top of your shoulders. “I’ll get a fire going in a second sötma.For right now I want you to sit here.” He said as he pulled your shivering body into a main sitting room where a very large fireplace sat on the far wall. 

Eric sat you down on the plush sofa that laid in front of the fireplace and you clutched his jacket tighter to your body as you watched Eric get the fire going with his quick and efficient hands. 

**

Hours later after you and Eric unpacked your things and both of you had your dinner. You found yourself sitting in Eric’s lap on a fur rug in front of that luxurious fire. The feeling of the fire warming your skin and the feel of Eric underneath you as he stroked her hair lovingly, warmed more than just your skin; you felt your heart and soul warm from the contentment that you felt in this moment.

As content as you were though in this moment you knew that you wanted more. You wanted more from Eric than just his soft kisses and loving caresses, you weren’t a fool you knew the reputation that surrounded Eric when you started seeing him. 

Ruthless killer and slayer of hearts but that wasn’t the side he presented you with everyday nor was it something he tried hiding from you. It wasn’t something that you felt like he needed to hide anyway. Everyone has shit in their past and in Eric’s case he’s got a whole mountain range of shit he’s got to deal with from his past but he’s grown and you’ve seen that growth. Hell. You being here wrapped safely in his arms in some remote house in god knows where Sweden should be proof enough of that growth; of the trust you place in him. So much so that you feel confident enough to pull from his soft touches and look at him in those blazing glacier eyes. 

You let out a small breath, and reached out your hand, cupping his face before you pulled him slowly in for a soft lingering kiss. Eric hummed his approval against your lips and then you took him by surprise as you tilted your head slightly and deepened the kiss, your tongue playfully dipping in his mouth and tangling with his.

You smiled against Eric’s lips as you heard him let out a low growl, his strong hands that were at his side, coming up to grab your hips bringing you closer to his body. You let out a low gasp as Eric pressed you closer to his body and you felt just how hard he was for you already. 

You pulled your sweet lips away from Eric’s smirking as you heard him softly whisper “No.” when you pulled away. But you or your lips didn’t go far. You pulled away just enough that you were still most definitely in kissing range. 

Eric watched you as you placed your small hands on his strong chest, letting you control every action and determining just how far this night was going to go. He loved it when you were brave for him, with him, taking control and taking what you want from him. He’s waited for this moment for so long but one word from you and he would go jump in the endless snow outside and quickly cure himself of his raging hard on.

Your hands continued their leisurely journey down Eric’s chest until you got to the hem of his shirt. You looked back up at Eric’s face, as if you were asking permission. He nodded and your fingers brushed the skin underneath his shirt and gasped at how cold he was. But you didn’t let that deter you one bit as you grabbed the hem of the shirt and lifted it up and over his head; with Eric’s help of course. And then your hands were all over his bare chest starting back up at his strong shoulders, then trailing down his chest your fingers stop over where his heart is; and feeling a certain sadness that you wouldn’t feel it’s steady beat under your touch. 

Eric seemed to sense what you were feeling and grabbed your chin making you look up at him. “Your heart is big enough that it beats for the both of us, sötma.” he whispered lovingly before placing a kiss on your lips and letting your chin go so you can continue with your exploration. 

You leaned down and placed a kiss to that spot on his chest, biting your lip when you heard Eric’s little gasp. Your hands went down feeling his hard abs and then those delicious hip “v’s” that you so desperately needed to run your tongue over but maybe later tonight. You looked back up at Eric’s face and grabbed one of his massive hands; Eric watched intently as you flipped his hand over and started to lovingly trace the lines there. 

Eric couldn’t help himself any longer the same hand that you so lovingly traced he used to cup your cheek, and traced your lips with his thumb. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are to me?” He asked as he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head leaving your chest bare to him. 

You felt your cheeks flush. “No. I don’t think you’ve ever told me before. Why don’t you count the ways.” You giggled and let out a little squeal as Eric flipped the both of you over so your back was to the soft fur rug and he was sprawled out on top of you. 

“You’re such a little shit you know that?” He smirked as he leaned down and kissed a spot at your chest, giving it a little suck. Making whatever little smart comment you were about to say dissolve from your mind as you felt Eric ladden your body with open mouth kisses. First to your neck and then your collarbones and then to the spot right where your heart was. 

“Eric.” his name falling from your mouth in a breathy whisper. 

His hair tickled your face as he kissed lower and you let out a gasp as his tongue swirled around your nipple, making your back arch from the surprise of it. 

“So sensitive.” he chided and you felt a gush of warmth spread between your thighs at his words. Before you watched him bring that nipple into his mouth and give it a light suck before he went to do the same to the other. “I wonder where else you're sensitive.” He purred as you felt his lips brush reverently against the bottom of your breasts before continuing his journey to where you were most sensitive. 

You tangled your hands in his hair as he reached your pants and he held your gaze as he undid each of the buttons, making you smile as he lifted your hips up and pulled your pants completely off, leaving you completely bare to him. 

“Oh, Y/N.” He purred as he admired your naked body sprawled out in front of him on his fur rug looking like a norse goddess. “Every part of you is a gift.” He said as he grabbed one of your legs and placed soft kisses there before doing the same to the other. He loved how sprawled out you were for him like a feast all for him. 

“Eric.” You moaned out his name again as you watched him settle himself between your legs, his strong shoulders keeping you spreaded out for him as you watched as he took his index finger and ran it down your slit making you gasp. You watched eagerly as he placed that finger in his mouth and sucked on it. 

“Just as sweet as I knew you’d be, baby.” He smirked and then you felt his tongue flick up your folds before swirling around your clit making your hips buck up into his face. 

You watched as Eric swiveled his head side to side and elicited more moans from you each one getting louder and louder as he sucked your clit and he fucked you with his tongue. Your fingers alternated between burying themselves in Eric’s soft hair to gripping the fur rug behind you as you watched Eric devour you. 

As you felt your orgasm climb you started to writhe under Eric but he easily placed his strong arm over you stomach keeping you under his delicious torture. “Eric, baby I’m gonna come.” You moaned, feeling like you were going to fall over the edge any second. 

“Go ahead baby, come for me. Let me see how pretty you look when you fall apart.” He purred before he added his fingers and crooked them inside you and you fell apart. Eric ate you out through your orgasm letting you ride that wave of pleasure until you finally went limp under him. 

You watched with shaky breaths as Eric pulled away from you giving your clit a kiss before smiling up at you. “I don’t know how I’ll ever get enough of this sweet pussy, sötma.” he said before climbing up and kissing you deeply letting you taste yourself. 

“Are you ready for me, sötma?” He asked and then you felt his strong fingers rub against your soaked folds before he entered you feeling how wet you were for him. “Oh yeah, I think you’re ready for me.” He smiled, kissing you again before standing up and unbuttoning his pants before quickly discarding them.  

He looked like a god from this angle, all strong and hard muscles as he loomed over you, his hard cock springing to his stomach. You’d never been particularly fond of blowjobs mainly because of how your past lovers would grab your head and try to force you down more. But you didn’t feel that Eric you wanted to be at his knees lavishing him with pleasure while he stroked your head lovingly gifting you with lavish praises about how good you were for him.

Maybe another night. You thought to yourself. 

Eric knelt back down till he was sprawled back over you and proceeded to ladden you with soft open mouth kisses, his hands massaging your breasts until you could feel the need between your legs grow until it was too much; you needed Eric now. 

“Eric, please.” You moaned breathily. 

“Are you sure you want me now? We have all night, baby.” He said, kissing your neck again. “Maybe you let me play with that pussy for another hour and then I’ll fuck you.” 

You felt you center throb at the thought at what kind of pleasure could pull from you in an hour; not still not fuck you. 

“No. I want you Eric. I need you inside me now. Please.” You whispered in his ear earning a low growl from him. 

“Well, there’s no way I can deny such a pretty girl when she’s begging for me.”  He hummed and you felt his hard length press up against your folds. “This what you want from me?” He asked, knowing full well, that’s exactly what you wanted. 

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me?” you gasped feeling Eric’s hard length press deeper into you, letting you get used to him as he stretched you out for him. 

“Oh baby you’ve got such a mouth on you. I can’t wait to see it wrapped around my cock. I just know you’d look so pretty on your knees for me.” He purred as he slid home, making you moan in his ear as he pressed close to your body,to your warmth. 

Eric kept his pace slow letting you get used to his invasion but also to leave you breathless and wanting under him. He knows what you want; that you want him to pound into you and he will have no worry about that. He can’t wait to hear the lewd sounds of your wet pussy as he drives into you over and over until you scream his name. But right now he wants to draw this out, really feel each part of you and then he’ll pound into your aching pussy. 

“Eric, please.” you breathed out, your nails gripping his back as he kept his pace slow and sensual, making you writhe beneath him. 

“Please what? Sötma.” 

“Harder.” You begged. 

Eric chuckled against your skin. “I just can’t deny you anything can I?” He asked, looking at your face. 

“Please Eric.” 

“Alright, baby.” He said and before you knew it, Eric pulled out of you and brought his hands under your back and brought you up to his until you were straddling him and just as quickly as he pulled out of you, did he plunge himself back into your wet folds; setting a brutal pace as he fucked up into you. 

You let out a scream of pleasure as your hands wrapped around Eric and held him close as he fucked you. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” 

“Yes.” You whimpered, kissing Eric’s neck and sucked at the spot where his shoulder and neck meet earning a low groan from him. 

“Oh Eric!” You moaned, your nails gripping onto his back. “I-I I’m going to come.” 

“Come for me sötma. Grip me with that tight little pussy of yours.” He growled as he drove into you harder and you felt yourself go supernova as your orgasm racked your body. Eric held you tight, slowing his pace down just enough to let you ride through your orgasm. 

After a few seconds though you felt Eric’s pace quicken again and to your surprise his quickening pace was building you up to another orgasm. 

“Eric. I don’t think I can survive another one.” You moaned, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Eric tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled enough to bring your face to his. 

“You can and you will baby. I want to feel you squeeze my cock again, with that beautiful pussy.” He growled and kissed you, his hand leaving your hair to snake between your bodies and rub small circles on your oversensitive clit and you gasped into his kiss as you felt your orgasm crash over you as Eric held you close to him, as he chased his own end. 

“Fuck! I love you so much, Y/N.” He screamed as his own orgasm crashed over him, holding you closer to his body as he fell back down onto the soft fur rug underneath him. 

As you laid on top of Eric trying to calm your breathing and find your equilibrium again. Eric’s fingers found your hair again and stroked it lovingly. 

“I love you too ya know?” You smiled and kissed his chest. “And not just for the sex. Although I could definitely get used to that.” You laughed.

“You are trouble.” He said, scrunching his nose at you before bringing your lips to his in another searing kiss. 

[jungkxook]

—amortentia.

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: hogwarts/harry potter au / enemies-to-lovers + fluff

⟶ words: 5,486

⟶ rating: pg-13

⟶ summary: jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.

⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of an old fic from my old blog since i know some of you were asking about it! i hope you enjoy!!

Jungkook loves strawberries.

He remembers fondly the warm summers as a child when he would go strawberry picking with his grandmother, and revels in the taste and the memory each time he bites into a fresh berry, the juices coating his tongue in sickly sweetness; he likes the smell of all the lotions and lip balms, candles and fragrances, that carried notes of the red fruit in comforting wafts, remembering distantly a time when his mother’s fruity perfume would breathe warm life into his cold house in the middle of a dull winter; he remembers sentimental times spent at the local cafe near his home, loving and basking in the way the homely and warm aroma of a freshly baked pie and the sugary tartness of strawberry lemonade would fill his nostrils and consume his senses, leaving his mouth watering. 

Jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him.

Ask any girl that thought Jeon Jungkook is handsome or any boy that thought Jungkook is a god and they would say he smells like the purest form of any man with a harmonious scent of musk, cedar wood, and oak; like fresh rain that soaked in the middle of a mossy forest, spices, and black coffee — but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Maybe he did smell of musk or wood or rain when he was continuously outside, practicing every moment he had with his Quidditch team, but Jungkook was more than just that. Really, though, it made sense as to why people thought that way about him when he had left such a lingering impression on the school.

You can still remember the very first day you saw him; the very moment you had, from your spot in line in front of the Sorting Hat on the first day as a first year, saw the stoic boy step forward. Made up of a nervous face and obsidian locks that fell into his equally dark eyes, the Hat had instantly deemed the boy a Ravenclaw — and perhaps the house’s reputation was what added to his mystique and strange charm. Even then, from what you observed, he had been a silent boy, making his way to and from classes usually alone, and somehow ignoring the gaggle of girls (from all years and from all houses) that trailed along behind him, giggling and clamouring over how cute he is.

As the months went on, you never witnessed much change in Jungkook safe for the friends he suddenly made in the first half of second year (a surprising mix of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Slytherins) and the smug attitude he began to develop. A rebel, they said, a bad boy at heart, the very antithesis of Ravenclaws. Someone all the girls craved for and all the boys yearned to be. And while you tried to assume that perhaps there was more to the boy than meets the eye — that maybe he was built on different layers you could one day explore — when he begins to become too conceited with the way he is praised, you grow disenchanted by him and his cocky smirks. Yet, for some reason, he finds it necessary to go out of his way to talk to you no matter what — and you were quick to learn to despise him and his constant mocking, all possibilities of trying to get to know him diffused. 

In first year, you had to endure a whole semester worth of Jungkook tugging at your hair when he sat behind you in Charms class. In second year, an unspoken rivalry began in which the two of you would compete to see who could earn the better grades. You can’t quite pinpoint when or where the hatred for one another began, but the irritation that comes as a result of it only grows more adamant with each passing day.  

In third year, you distinctly remember being confined to the many dusty oak shelves and rows of leather bound books in the library, your eyes constantly flickering to the ornate grandfather clock nearby you as you wait alone. An agreed time of 6 pm to meet in the library after dinner to work on a partnered assignment had otherwise vanished from the boy’s memory. Had it been up to you to decide what partner you wanted, you would have much rather preferred to pick one of your friends and not the Ravenclaw who was fifteen minutes late. With the project due in two days, and with the nearly three weeks you had to finish it, you had constantly asked to meet with Jungkook to work on it and each time he had made a different excuse. 

As time crept on and the waning hours of the daylight dwindled to a dull darkness, twenty minutes would pass and it was then that you would grudgingly begin packing your belongings. The wait was not worth the trouble. Yet just as you are standing from your seat, the boy waltzes into view, coming to a nonchalant halt in front of you and placing his bag on the table, as if he didn’t know how late he is. He has abandoned his robe to wear only a grey fleece pullover on top of his white button up, his torn up Converse shoes ruining the uniform outfit with his casual flare. Your stare flickers up to meet his smug face and a frown forms on yours as you spot the other third year Slytherin girl giggling a flirtatious goodbye to the boy who winks in response. Finally, he turns to look at you.

“You’re leaving already?” Jungkook asks. “I just got here.”

“Twenty minutes later, Jeon,” You snap.

The boy quirks a brow, twisting around in his spot to look at the clock. “I could have sworn you said we should meet at six-thirty. I’m ten minutes early.”

“I remember saying six o’clock,” You say. “As well as you telling me that six was perfectly fine. Look, History of Magic isn’t my favourite either but I would appreciate it if you at least put some effort into the class and this project.”

“Shh!”

The hiss that comes from the student studying near you only makes you scowl. You turn around hotly to continue shoving your books and papers into your backpack.

“I was busy,” Jungkook says.

“Busy flirting with every living thing?” You asks.

“What?” Confusion paints his face, and then he is shaking his head furiously. “No!”

Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You point over your shoulder at the same Slytherin girl who is still within the library, standing just a few feet away from the pair of you. She has an opened book in her hands in an attempt to look distracted but her eyes are fixated solely on Jungkook. When she catches Jungkook staring, his gaze lifting over your shoulder, she hurriedly looks away and blushes.

“So I assume she’s just a friend?” You retaliate. “You know what your problem is, Jeon? You never take anything seriously.”

Immediately, Jungkook tenses. His arms snake around to cross in front of his chest.

“Well, you take everything too seriously,” he says. “When was the last time you had some fun? Any time I talk to you, you’re always fussing about the work or about how much you hate me—  it’s like you’re a walking, talking, breathing dementor! You suck the life out of everyone.”

“Shh!”

The snarl this time is much harsher, coming from yet another student who has been devoting his time to writing an essay. But now you can’t be bothered to worry about silence. You slam shut the book in your hand with a very loud thump that seems to echo around the eerily silent room and fling a strap of your bag over your shoulder.

“Well, I’m sorry that I, and this assignment, are such inconveniences to you,” You say, “but from now on I give up on making sure we both don’t fail this class. If you need me, which I assume you won’t, I’ll be in my room, far from you.”

“Excuse me!” The familiar bark of the librarian’s voice hardly makes you jump even as she comes marching down to the two of you. “This is a library, a quiet place to study. It would be greatly appreciated if you could bring your conversation out into the halls.”

Had she not interrupted your conversation with Jungkook, you would have never realized just how loud your voice had risen. Clearing your throat and tightening your grip on your bag and the book, you tear your eyes from Jungkook and stomp defiantly out into the corridors to retreat to your common room, leaving Jungkook alone. He would find you the day after in a sluggish state, his hair dishevelled and his clothes askew as if he had slept in them — or, rather, had not slept at all — showing you all the work he had finished for the assignment the night before.

In fourth year, you are leaving the stands of the Quidditch pitch on a surprisingly warm November evening. Following the slew of students back to the school after a heated game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor — where the latter team won after a fiery race between the two Seekers for the golden snitch — the eager chatter buzzes in the air. Beside you are your two friends who are, just as many others are doing, whispering excitedly about Jungkook’s role as Seeker and his “amazing performance.” 

“Did you see the way Jungkook played?” Hana asks from the right side of you. “How can someone be so attractive?”

To your left, Nayeon is practically standing on the tip of her toes, desperately craning her neck to search the crowd for the boy and his friends. “Oooh, look! There he is! He’s so sweaty! Imagine his muscles—”

“You’re ridiculous,” You sigh with a disapproving shake of your head.

Despite your condescending tone, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder to follow your friends’ gaze. Laughing in triumph with his team and friends, Jungkook stands adorned in the usual Ravenclaw royal blue Quidditch uniform, the robes somehow accentuating his tanned skin and dark hair that clings to his sweat-covered forehead. Since when had he grown so tall? And maybe Nayeon was right — since when did Jungkook start looking so muscular? 

“Your staring is obvious, Y/N,” Hana says. 

“And so is your crush on him,” Nayeon murmurs. 

“Crush?” You burst out into laughter. “Now that’s funny. I could never have a crush on him!”

“Have a crush on who?”

The familiar voice makes you groan inwardly and the arm that is tossed around your neck almost makes you gag. Your body grows rigid under Jungkook’s touch, though he doesn’t seem to notice that or the way you carefully try to peel his arm off of you but to no avail. Joining him is his typical duo of friends. The other Slytherin boy next to Jungkook is the shy and soft Park Jimin, accompanied by their inseparable Hufflepuff friend, Kim Taehyung. The two boys smirk wolfishly down at your friends, both of whom are so suddenly at a loss for words.

“Evenin’, ladies!” Jimin says. “Enjoy the show?”

“We hate to brag but we taught him everything he knows,” Taehyung says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and swats Taehyung’s hand away. “Maybe the three of you can come down to watch us practice one day.” 

Your friends exchange glances and giggle nervously. 

“We’d love to,” Nayeon smiles.

Your lack of response clearly doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, nor Jungkook and his friends. As you turn your head to look away from the group, you briefly catch the sudden scent that is Jungkook and your face scrunches. It isn’t so much as gross as it is overpowering. Passed salt and sweat, you can smell something clean like freshly cut grass or some sort of lemongrass shampoo. But instead of telling him out loud what you thought, you pushed him away.

“You smell terrible,” You said. “Go take a shower, Jeon.”

“Always playing hard to get,” Jungkook sighs. “Sorry we can’t all smell like your floraly essence after playing an intense Quidditch game.”

You only hum in response, turning your head to look away from him and his friends. The act seems to earn a smirk from Jungkook and then he and his friends are parting from you, walking back to the locker rooms. After that day, your friends’ profuse pleads and begs for you to come with them one day when the Quidditch teams are practicing would eventually make you cave in. When Jungkook sees you sitting in the stands burrowed in a wool scarf and heavy robes, albeit with a frown on your face and your eyes scanning the pages of a book in your lap, he catches your attention by shouting your name and then winking at you. Seconds later, a Quaffle is thrown his way by a fellow teammate and nearly knocks him off his broom.

In fifth year, you are seated in your Transfiguration class at the back and nearly dozing off as your Professor drones on and on in the early morning about some boring lecture. Jungkook sits in the row opposite you and a seat behind but that doesn’t stop him from constantly trying to catch your attention, whispering your name. It is only when you hear a few classmates near you break out into wondrous awes that you lift your head from its resting place wedged between your folded arms on top of your desk and turn. Soaring above the students’ heads is an enchanted paper bird, its thin wings fluttering its way to you.

You gaze at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, before noticing that it is Jungkook who had magicked it, wand in hand as he waves it towards you. As soon as it reaches your table, it floats around your head and lingers in front of your face, beckoning you to take it. Instead, your hands try swatting it away though it doesn’t seem to budge. When you relent and succumb to taking the bird, it is not before you shoot an annoyed glance back at Jungkook. Then, you unwrap the bird in your hand. With thin black ink sprawled out in perfect cursive writing, a single dreadful question is poised in pretty script: Meet me tomorrow at noon at the Three Broomsticks? It’ll be my treat.

“Is that from Jungkook?” Hana asks. She peers over your shoulder from beside you to look down at the paper, her voice incredibly louder than you would have liked. “It is! Is he asking you out? You know, I always knew you liked him. You’re a terrible liar— ”

You gasp. Your hand quickly covers the paper, yanking it out of Hana’s view. “I do not like him!”

“Do too!” Hana laughs. “So, what are you going to say? Huh, who knew Jungkook was so soft and cute? Have I told you how cute the two of you would be together?”

Maybe it’s the way she so suddenly begins to gush over you dating Jungkook, or the way her voice garners the attention of those sitting around you, letting other girls fawn over how cute his simple gesture is, that makes you curdle with embarrassment. But what are you so shy of? You are insistent that you don’t like Jungkook but you were certain that if word spread that you did have feelings for him, your whole life would be drastically ruined. Or maybe you were more fearful of the idea of possibly liking Jungkook in return, even if you had so profusely been lying to everyone and yourself.  

“Stop it!” You hiss. “I would rather kiss the squid in the Black Lake than date him!”

Then, as if to emphasize this apparent hatred, you grab your quill and furiously write in big scratchy letters “NO” before crumpling it in your hand and twisting in your seat. Set on chucking the balled up piece of paper right at Jungkook’s smug face, you are startled when you feel the paper being plucked from your grasp by none other than your Professor. She stands before you with a sour look on her face, a willowy old lady with gray wisps of hair pulled back into a tight bun. 

“Ah, Miss Y/N,” she hums, “if you have more important matters that you seem to want to discuss with Mr. Jeon, surely you can divulge with the rest of the class too.”

Your mouth clamps shut. You watch, stricken with horror, as she unravels the paper in her hands, her glossy eyes skimming its contents from beneath her half-moon spectacles. She purses her lips, and then shifts her gaze to you and then to Jungkook sitting behind you. The silence that follows as she moves towards him is near unbearable, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“If you would have much rather preferred to flirt with Miss Y/N than listen to my lecture, feel free to leave my class, Jeon,” Your Professor says. She drops the paper onto his desk with a flourish. “Though, it’d be in your best interest to stop your daydreaming and pay attention to my class because I’m afraid her answer was no.”

Your eyes widen as you twist in your seat to look at your Professor and a startled Jungkook. And, maybe, if you looked hard enough and passed the smug smirk, you could see his conceited stare falter as a look of hurt flashes across his eyes. A few murmurs and giggles break out amongst the students, making your cheeks burn hot and forces you to turn back around and away from Jungkook.

“And I suppose that now neither of you are busy tomorrow, you wouldn’t mind spending it in detention with me,” Your Professor says. Then she was rounding on her heel, marching back to the front of the classroom and restarting her lecture.

After the torturous detention where Jungkook suddenly refuses to look or talk to you after what had happened, and a week after the missed Hogsmeade trip, you would find Jungkook walking the halls, hand-in-hand, with another Ravenclaw girl. As they pass you, seemingly unaware of your lingering presence, you see the girl stop Jungkook and lean forward to kiss him, his own hands resting on her waist and tugging her closer to him. Though you tell yourself you’re free from his constant flirting and mocking, you can’t help but feel somewhat let down as you walk away that day.

In the beginning of sixth year, when all the students had found a moment to themselves and a much needed break from all the sudden stress of homework, you would wind up at a party being held in the Room of Requirements. Though you weren’t quite sure how the students were able to smuggle alcohol into the school, you remember drinking until you are blissfully numb and without a care in the world. Most of the evening had been spent chatting to Nayeon and Hana but when they become distracted with flirting with their crushes, you are left alone. It isn’t much long after that you stumble into Jungkook. Drunkenly dancing to the upbeat thump of music that reverberated around the room, you had, somehow, lost your footing. As you fall into the thick crowd, a pair of strong hands reach out to swiftly catch onto yours arms and hold you up. Jungkook’s surprised when you don’t bother pushing him away and let him help straighten you up. Clearly, you’re much too drunk to function, and he makes sure to hold you at a comfortable distance away from him. Then, there, under the dim lights of the room, you are met with his typical smirk tugging at his luscious pink lips (which you find yourself gazing at for longer than necessary). 

“Ah, if it isn’t Jeon Jungkook,” You rasp. You sway dangerously in his hold and nearly fall to the floor again. He tightens his grip on you and catches you once more before you can slip away. “What do you want from me tonight?”

“Hey, you bumped into me. I’m just being nice and making sure you don’t face-plant the floor.” 

“Yeah, but of course you had to be right beside me. I think I’d rather have face-planted the floor.”

He quirks a brow. He feigns dropping you, momentarily loosening his grip just enough for you to come flailing forward with a yelp of surprise. He doesn’t let you fall too far, though, and catches onto you swiftly once more, hooking his arm around your waist. When you meet his stare with a scowl, he grins. “You were saying?”

“Do you remember that one time you told me I never have fun?” 

“Not really.”

“Ah, well, you say a lot of shit to me,” You say. “But that stuck out the most. You called me a dementor. A dementor. My thirteen year old self never forgot that.”

Jungkook winces at how carefree you seemed to say it, at how you still remembered it three years later. His hands drop from you once you’re steady and he runs his fingers through his locks, softly pushing them up and out of his eyes before they ultimately fall flat against his forehead once more. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “I mean, look at you now. You seem to be having a lot of fun. How drunk are you anyway?”

“It’s not fun when it feels like I’m trying to prove a point to you,” You sigh. “But I already know you don’t care about me.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook says. “You’re the one who doesn’t care about me.”

You burst out into a fit of mocking laughter and shake your head at him. Swaying forward, almost precariously close to him, you tap the tip of his nose with your finger. “Jeon Jungkook, you can be real oblivious.”

And then you are kissing him, pressing your soft lips to his. He doesn’t push you away, albeit however incredibly surprised he may be. Instead, as he feels your lips move against his, he finds himself basking in everything that is you. All he can smell is your floral perfume and, passed the liquor that stained your lips, could taste your peach lip balm and the bubble gum you had been chewing earlier in the night. He hates how much he loves it. His hands lift to rest on either side of your face and he gently brings you closer to him, his tongue laving at your peach flavoured lower lip. He hears you moan softly in content as you melt against his chest, your fingers suddenly tugging desperately at the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s then that you realize that all you can smell is the scent of freshly cut grass and his lemony shampoo, but all you can taste is something warm and sugary that feels all too comforting.

You come to the conclusion in your drunken mind that you would have loved to keep kissing him. That, maybe, kissing Jeon Jungkook wasn’t so bad. But then just as suddenly as you had kissed him, he is pulling away from you, sending you crashing and burning down from your reverie. With swollen pink lips, wide eyes, and dishevelled hair, Jungkook shakes his head abruptly and mumbles a quiet, “I’m sorry.” 

He flees from your grasp and from the party before you can stop him — and it is in that moment that you began to hate Jungkook, but not more than you hate yourself for actually enjoying the way it felt to kiss someone like him. You would never learn why he had left so soon until much later when he tells you that he didn’t want you to regret anything you did drunk — didn’t want you to regret kissing someone like him when you had seemed to hate him for years prior.

In the second half of sixth year, when you begin to fail Potions, your Professor does what he thinks is best and pairs you with Jungkook, the smartest student in his class. Hearing that Jungkook, of all people, is remarkable at Potions doesn’t come as a surprise. You are quick to learn just why he had been placed into Ravenclaw, carrying their impressive ambition and intelligence. If anything, you are almost jealous of how easily he seems to pick up on things and can reproduce them at top notch quality.

Your friendship with him is still strained and is perhaps even worse than it had once been ever since the night of the party. Neither of you talk about the moment and, from what either of you were concerned, both of you had long since forgotten the night had ever happened. Unbeknownst to you is that when Jungkook sees how cold and distant you become in the days after, he refuses to tell you the truth that the kiss is always on his mind. So, when you are forced to work with him for any assignments or in-class work, most of your conversations end in constant bickering. Miraculously, somehow, your grades do gradually begin to pick up. 

One day, when you both walk into class, you are greeted to the sight of a smoldering cauldron placed neatly on top of your Professor’s desk, a beautiful scent filling the room that seems to be coming specifically from whatever has been brewing. The liquid contents within contains a mother-of-pearl sheen and clear smoke spirals from it in wisps. As soon as everyone is seated at their desks, your Professor steps forward and begins his lecture.

“Good evening, class!” he chirps. “Today we have a very exciting lecture that has to do with what is currently sitting on my desk. Now, can anyone tell me what exactly it is?”

A few shouts of guesses are tossed into the air but all are wrong as your Professor simply shakes his head. Jungkook raises his hand casually and your Professor points enthusiastically at him. 

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“It’s Amortentia,” he says.

“Right you are, my boy!” Your Professor beams. “Five points to Ravenclaw! This is, in fact, Amortentia. Now, for those of you who do not know what it is, that is perhaps all the best. But as it is, it’s important to educate you on the various effects each potion can have on a being and why someone should, or should not, administer it. Amortentia, simply put, is a love potion.”

Gasps of awe and murmurs from certain students circulate the room as your Professor carries on.

“And not just any love potion — the most powerful love potion in the world,” he says. “If anyone were to receive such a potion, it would cause an intense infatuation and obsession on the drinker. However, the potion must be continuously administered to the drinker or else the effects will wear off and the drinker will regain his or her conscience and free will. Now, if you ever wanted to know how to identify Amortentia, you can rely on its very distinct smell. Differing on the person who smells it, it will always morph into the scent of whomever you desire most. For instance, I smell lemon drops, toothpaste, and parchment paper. You may all smell something different.”

A handful of students lean forward in their seat, desperately moving closer to the cauldron and the potion that carried such charming scents. Despite not wanting to show your immediate interest in something as strange as a love potion, you sit back in your seat but inhale a slow, deep breath of air and the scent that makes your heart skip a beat. It would pose as an obstacle to focusing on the lecture as your Professor carried on, though you find you’re not the only one so easily distracted by it. Halfway through the class, he stops his lecture and informs the students of their task for the evening: replicating Amortentia perfectly with the help of the partner sitting next to them.

So, you and Jungkook immediately head to work, beginning the tedious process of preparing ingredients and brewing the potion. Naturally, your own potion brewing goes faster than others as Jungkook seems to know what to do with everything. For the most part, you sit back and watch, as Jungkook refuses your help any time you offer, claiming you would only just slow him down. When it’s done, and the entire class is still halfway through theirs, you fold your arms over your chest and look up at Jungkook, noting the way his eyebrows scrunch together as he peers down at the glistening potion.

“I can’t smell anything,” You say. “Did you even do this right?”

Jungkook grimaces, though his stare falters. He doesn’t admit it aloud, but he worries for a moment that maybe he isn’t as good at Potions as he thought he was. In the next second, he scowls and shoots you a look.

“What kind of question is that?” he asks. “Of course I did it right! I followed everything properly. It even looks perfect.”

“Well, obviously it isn’t perfect if neither of us can smell anything,” You say.

“Well,” Jungkook says, irritated, “maybe if you didn’t bathe yourself in your ridiculous floral perfume, I could smell something.”

“Me?” Your mouth drops open in an appalled gap. “Now it’s my fault? You’re one to talk. Did you have practice this morning? All I can smell is grass and your stupid lemon shampoo or whatever it is. It’s disgusting.”

The bickering continues on between the two of you until you’ve seemingly grabbed the attention of the entire class. Near the very end of the period, it’s Taehyung who finally says something, leaning back in his chair to look at the two of you. 

“Jungkook didn’t have practice this morning,” he says. “He also didn’t shower because he slept in late. Or did you forget that, Jungkook?”

“And Y/N?” Nayeon chimes in from beside you. “Didn’t you run out of your perfume last week?”

Jungkook clamps his mouth shut. Your own heart stops. Suddenly, your face is burning intensely and Jungkook’s own cheeks are pinched a bright red as, slowly, the realization seems to dawn on the both of you. Chuckles emit from your friends as your Professor signals that the time is up. You don’t dare look at Jungkook as your Professor grades each potion, and then anxiously await the chance to dash out the door when your Professor claims yours and Jungkook’s potion was done just perfect. As soon as he moves on to the next pair, you have gathered your belongings and have darted out the room. You are nearly halfway down the corridor when you hear Jungkook calling after you, begging you to stop.

“Y/N! Hey, Y/N! Wait up, please!”

Your feet quicken in pace as you round the corner. Just when you think you’re free, you feel a hand clasp around your wrist and pull you back into a hardened figure. Jungkook. He’s standing so incredibly close to you now, his gaze softening as he looks you once over. You can only avoid his stare, though your eyes fall to the distraction that is his hand clamped around your wrist. 

“I really am not in the mood to talk right now, Jungkook,” You mumble. “Just leave me alone.”

“What else did you smell?” Jungkook asks.

His question makes you stop. It’s what causes you to carefully lift your stare to look at him.

“What?” You stammer. “What does it matter?”

“Just tell me, please,” he says, his grip tightening around your wrist. “I need to know.”

You could have shaken your head at him, pushed him away and walked off, but the longer you stare at him, the faster you begin to cave. Your mind is instantly brought back to just moments ago and the love potion that had filled your senses. As you think about all the lovely things you could smell, you whisper the answer in a sheepish voice:

“Strawberries.”

There is a split moment where all you can see is Jungkook’s beaming grin before he is pulling you toward him for a kiss that nearly sweeps you off your feet. You collapse against his broad chest, your hands flying up to bundle in his shirt and pull at him tightly as he kisses you and kisses you. You wonder why he had done so spontaneously but then it seems to hit you.

All you can smell on Jungkook, all you can taste, is lemon, grass, and strawberries. 

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[violettelueur]

— FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + NANAMI KENTO || S/O THAT HAS A CURVY FIGURE

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + nanami kento from jujutsu kaisen

��� warnings : grammar issues

↳ form : headcanons

↳ published : 7 january

↳ pronouns : non specified in headcanon

↳ request : Your blog is my favorite on tumblr♡ You have a great talent, and really your writing has helped me to go through some tough times. I can only say, Thank you so much!!! If its okay, can I make a request please? Can I have Gojo, Nanami and Megumi with a curvy fem! S/o? Oh but if you feel unconfortable writing this, its totally fine! You dont have to write it, dont worry! Is just that I have that type of body and I have always been really insecure about it. Thank you♡ You really are the best!!

↳ previous work related : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + ryomen sukuna || with a chubby s/o

↳ barista’s notes : hi there! thank you so much for loving my blog and it makes my heart melt that i am your favourite ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ and i also bet you are a wonderful and beautiful person in real life since what i like to go by when i get insecure is by saying ‘if I don't fit into this generation's beauty standard, I will have to become a different standard’ and that was said by Hwasa from MAMAMOO ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ other than that,i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and you’re welcome come again anytime soon!

To be completely honest, Mr Fushiguro Megumi doesn’t really care about how your body looks and this is because he really doesn’t focus on that aspect like Itadori - the classic ‘tall girls with a big butt’.....I’m 5’4 with an Oikawa flatbread.

Fushiguro is really observant and he does quickly notice when you are feeling insecure about yourself and is lowkey confused about why you are self-conscious.

He isn’t the type to question why you are insecure but he will compliment you the moment he notices you are feeling down about yourself.

For example, if you look yourself into the mirror with your hands outlining your body continuously - I’ll admit, I do that a lot - he would wrap his arms around your waist and just look at you fondly in the mirror.

“You look really cute today, the outfit really suits you a lot,” and, of course, there will be a light blush upon his face because our baby is a shy one - he isn’t one to openly express what he is thinking but anything for you.

If Fushiguro is feeling more confident, he would place a light kiss on your cheek to seal his words before resting his chin on your shoulder to admire you again in the mirror - now it is your turn to blush.

He doesn’t mention this at all since he is shy about this thought of his, but he really loves your body and if you do something to change/hide it in some way, he will find a way to prevent it. 

Like if you are eating less than you usually did, Fushiguro will bring home takeaway for you and will make an excuse by saying “me and Gojo ordered too much, so I brought some home for you” - and when you open the damn box, don’t be surprised to see your favourite food.

In conclusion, Fushiguro will be confused on why you are insecure about your curvy body, but will do anything to make you feel comfortable and beautiful - even if he does get embarrassed during the process because seeing you smile is worth it.

Just like Fushiguro Megumi, Mr Gojo Satoru does not care what your body looks like that all but will admit to you every day that he finds you sexy.

Gojo is really touchy with you - that’s just because it’s his language of love and it is in his nature to be - and has no shame in being so at all.

Whenever in public or private, this man will run his hands around your body with no shame and will focus on your curve quite a bit because once again, he finds you really sexy.

Compared to both Fushiguro and Nanami, I don’t think you even have the time to feel insecure because Gojo will continuously compliment you before you would even complain about yourself.

Gojo will cup your face with his palms before bombarding you with kisses to the point where you can’t even get a word in.

You *kiss* are *kiss* so *kiss* pretty *kiss* the *kiss* prettiest *kiss* of *kiss* them *kiss* all 

And he will finish his little speech with a big smooch on your lips before picking you up off your feet and twirling you around in glee.

He will 100% show you off to everyone that comes by and meets the both of you but will tease them by reminding them that you are his and his only.

Gojo is the type that will hype you up when you go clothes shopping together - maybe he is also the type to pick out an outfit that will showcase your curves and will tell you that you look beautiful and in his words ‘hella attractive’.

Except him to bring extra clothes after his mission for you to try because ‘you don’t have enough outfits to show yourself off with’ - there will be some expensive brand within the mix of bags that he has brought for you because we call know Gojo Satoru has moneyyyyyyy

In conclusion, expect Gojo to be your hype man 24/7 because he knows that you are the most gorgeous person in the whole world.

And once again, just like both Fushiguro Megumi and Gojo Satoru. Nanami wouldn’t care about how your body looks but unlike Gojo, he wouldn’t verbally admit that he thinks you look really sexy.

Being the professional man he is, he would replace ‘sexy’ with ‘beautiful’, ‘gorgeous’ and ‘charming’ 

Like Fushiguro, Nanami is quite observant - may be more observant than Fushiguro - and will instantly notice the second you confidence drops - quicker than Fushiguro would, those glasses ain’t just for exorcising curses you know.

Nanami will pull you into a warm embrace and rock you side to side to comfort you while telling you how beautiful you are to him and why you shouldn’t be ashamed of the way your body is.

I feel like he is also the type to play with your hair. So, while he was hugging you, he would stroke your hair to add extra comfort to the whole fluff scene that was going on between the both of you.

“You are so beautiful you know that right? So beautiful,” and he says this with such awe in his voice - even if it is somewhat out of character for him, he does truly think you are beautiful.

He will also gently smile at you to inform you that he is being truthful to you which leads you to smile back at him since you can’t help it - it is Nanami Kento after all.

Nanami will slyly run his hands over your body as a sign of his appreciation to you and to express how much he loves you and your body no matter what - also that is kinda sexy can’t lie, like who doesn’t want that?

Sometimes he would guide you to the mirror and tell you how beautiful your body is and how much he loves every inch of it.

Overall, he is a man of his word and will continuously remind you how much he finds you beautiful every day since he knows you are beautiful inside and out.

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[ramzawrites]

Rivals - Prince!Reader x Prince!Eret

Male

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request from 🌱🌟 my beloved <3 /p

Summary: Prince Y/N and Prince Eret hated each other. That was just a fact. Mostly causing trouble together in order to one up the other. Though over the time even their relationship can change.

Words count: 5367

Authors Note: I’ll be honest you hit me with this request at a very good time so I ended up writing 10 pages in one go haha

At the end I made the executive decision to finally cut it off or I probably would have written even more, for which I’m honestly don’t have the time at the moment. I hope it’s not that obvious but if it is I apologize.

Thank you for the request 🌱🌟

I am reposting it since the original post doesn’t seem to appear in the tags no need to check the original post but I wanted to give a reason why it’s twice on my blog

Prince Eret and Prince Y/N hated each other.

That was just a universally accepted thing and something that made sense. Just like how water is wet, the ground was made out of dirt, Eret and Y/N hated each other.

Both of their respecting kingdoms never had a good relationship to say the least. Way back in the day the two nations have wared against each other which almost ruined both kingdoms forcing the two to an act of neutrality with the behest of the neighboring kingdoms.

Though this was way off in the past. Nowadays they had rebuilt. Their forces and monetary situation stood strong but they stayed neutral. Eyeing each other closely for any slip ups, though they were also bound to contracts that would involve other nations as well should they begin to go to war again, which wasn’t in interest for both parties.

So they tried to mostly ignore each other which only worked to an extent. If you are a strong nation with an impressive military force or with a lot of money, other nations will invite you to their balls, banquets or whatever fancy party they have going at that point. And it was in your best interest to join these as well, to show off your might, wealth or to connect with other foreign powers.

The first time Y/N’s family took him with them to one of these balls, he was barely six years old.

For a six year old a ball was a boring affair. All the adults were courteously laughing and only sipping on their drinks. Occasionally walking on the stage to dance to the slow and boring music.

Y/N was busy watching two older women dance in tandem. Their dresses and silk moving together in a sea of fabric that seemed to hypnotized the child as he sat on the side of the stage. His parents were off somewhere else, feeling they could trust enough in his proper upbringing to not cause any problems, that they left him. Saying that he should try to enjoy himself.

Enjoy himself how? Dance with the lonely grandma that was busy drinking away all the wine in the castle? No, thank you.

Finally tearing his eyes off the dancing women Y/N noticed how someone else was cautiously approaching him. It was another kid in what he assumed was his age. This stranger had fluffy wild hair and had a sympathetic smile on his face. He wore a simple suit similar to Y/N’s but there were a ton of differences in details.

As he got closer Y/N could swear that something seemed off about him. Something in him was screaming but he couldn’t place why he felt like that.

“Hello.” The other kid greeted Y/N.

Y/N looked around the room for a second before setting his attention back on him “Hello. Who are you?” There was a small hope in him, hey maybe this boring ball won’t be so boring after all.

With a proud expression the kid did a proper royal greeting, bowing in front of Y/N for a second “I am Prince Eret from the mighty nation of-“

But Y/N interrupted him “Prince Eret?! I know of you! My parents warned me and told me to ignore you.” He then stuck his tongue out and made a point to look away from him.

Eret furrowed his brows, exclaiming loudly his confusion to this reaction “Huh? Why?”

Y/N rolled his eyes and got off the chair he was sitting on. Just like Eret, he did his own version of the royal greeting that he got taught by his etiquette teachers “I am Prince Y/N.”

He knew he didn’t need to say more which got confirmed by Eret’s worried and confused expression turning into a proper frown.

“Oh, yuck, so that’s what you look like.”

Y/N gasped in anger “What do you mean yuck? You are the yuck one here! Between the two of us I’m clearly the cooler prince!”

“Oh really? Prove it.” Eret huffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Now fired up Y/N looked frantically through the whole ball room but couldn’t seem to come up with anything, that was until he saw a servant of the local royal family sauntering around with a plate of drinks and even with a few cheese and meat skewers.

“I bet I could steal more of these skewers from the servants than you.”

Instead of backing down Eret now had a competitive glint in his eyes “You are on.”

And that’s how both Eret and Y/N got into their first real trouble with their parents and other nobles.

They snuck around the people, hiding behind huge skirts and trying their best to grab a skewer from the plate. At first they waited for the servant to look away while they were talking to someone but soon their maneuvers turned riskier and riskier. Jumping up to grab one or even trying to distract them before grabbing another.

At some point for whatever reason both jumped into the air at the same time, grabbing the same skewer which ended with them smashing into the servant who in return fell down, the drinks spilling onto a couple that stood closely by.

As the adults were trying to understand what just happened Y/N grabbed Eret’s arm and yelled “Run!”

The two begun running away, making their way into the garden, hiding behind a bush as they heard some adults screaming and running around.

Y/N didn’t care if Eret got caught by the adults but he was worried he might sell him out to them as well. No, he was positive he would definitely snitch on him.

Out of breath the two kids huddled together, keeping their ears open, trying to catch any sound that might come closer to them.

Eret looked at Y/N  “I clearly won.” He then showed off the skewers he was holding against his suit, effectively ruining it.

Y/N shook his head, showing his own off “Nuh-uh. I clearly won.”

For some reason or another they managed to acquire the same amount of food so they sadly had to come to the conclusion that this was a tie. As they angrily begun snacking on their loot, they still continued throwing childish insults at each other.

This only lasted for a few minutes until their parents found them and figuratively tore them away to yell at them. Saying things like “this is not the proper behavior of a prince! Now we have to apologize to all the people! Do you know what this could cost us?”

From that point on their rivalry really started. Every few months they would meet up again by proxy of being invited to the same noble festivities. In fact every time Y/N was on such a party he fully expected Eret being there as well.

He would arrive and keep look out for that oh so dashing prince from the rival kingdom. Y/N scoffed, Eret wished he thought of him like that but in truth Y/N probably knew the best what kind of idiot he could be. After all he had firsthand experience for this.

While they always ended up in some sort of trouble there was this one moment, when they were twelve years old, that always stood out to him.

As usual Eret and Y/N found each other during a banquet. Both immediately fell back into arguing and making fun of each other. The adults got so tired of it that they sent the two outside so they could, in their words, cool down.

“You look ridiculous in your suit.” Eret mumbled towards Y/N as they wandered outside into the garden. Y/N just rolled his eyes as a response, choosing to ignore Eret at this point, not feeling comfortable with being banished outside together with him.

The garden was beautiful, of course.

Different kinds of flowers were planted along all the sides of the garden. Between them stood a few Willow trees with their long leaves hanging above the flowers and seating opportunities while in the middle of the whole place stood a beautiful huge pond with a statue protruding from the middle of it. The statue displayed two unidentifiable human beings holding on to each other, both holding an urn up into the air together where some water was rushing out ouf down into the pond.

While this all, together with the moon light, looked almost magical Y/N was more concentrated on what was inside the pond.

As he walked over to the water he could see a few koi fish flitting around in there. He sat down and lazily begun drawing invisible patterns into the water. Sometimes the fish would come close only to immediately swim away once they either saw the hand or felt the movement.

Eret was just standing dumbfounded to the side. Staring at Y/N which infuriated him. He could feel his dark eyes lingering on him and it just annoyed him. Eret finally shut up but now he was just standing there in uncomfortable silence.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh “Stop doing that.”

Eret looked bewildered at that “Stop, what?”

“Staring! I can see you staring! I know I’m handsome but come on.” Y/N snickered at the last part.

This time Eret rolled his eyes “Nah, I was just thinking how easy it would be to push you into the water right now and was debating if it was worth getting into trouble for it.”

“And what did your small brain come up with?”

Eret walked over and sat down next to Y/N “It’s sadly not worth it. I feel like I would get in even more trouble than last time when I was destroying you in that food fight.”

Y/N angrily shook his head “Oh, no! I was winning! You were lucky my father literally pulled me away from you or you wouldn’t even be standing here right now!”

“You wish! Your father saved the small bit of dignity you have!”

Ignoring Eret’s attempt to obviously rile him up and make him more angry, Y/N turned now fully away from him and instead returned to watching the fish. They looked more interesting and had more personality than Eret anyhow.

It was also definitely easier to look at the animals than Eret. Every time he would look at him even only for a little bit this fuzzy anger inside the pit of Y/N’s stomach would come up and by god he hated it. Unbeknownst to him this feeling was mutual.

Eret almost seemed chuffed that Y/N didn’t seem to react and instead chose to follow him suit with watching the fish.

“If we are already stuck out here let’s make it at least interesting.” Y/N broke the silence “Let’s catch some fish. I’m betting I can catch more than you.”

Eret was already getting rid of his jacket and pushed his sleeves up “I doubt that!”

Not wasting time Y/N shed his jacket as well and rolled his sleeves up only to jump into the water himself once the fish stayed out of both their reaches due to their incessant punching into the water.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Not losing!” was all Y/N said.

Eret not feeling too keen on possibly losing, jumped into the pond as well, trying to ignore Y/N who was inadvertently splashing water his way.

As a bit of a payback Eret threw some water towards Y/N which resulted in him loosing a prime chance for trying to grab a fish.

Everything is allowed in love and war after all and this was definitely war.

Though this action led to Y/N retaliating with spraying water back on Eret. Soon the two didn’t care about the fish anymore and were too busy trying to wrestle the other under the water. It wasn’t a full blown fight, no real punches fell but there was a lot of pushing and pulling.

They only stopped once they heard a blood curdling scream. Apparently the noble who owned the garden saw them inside her pond and was obviously not too pleased with it.

Yeah, there was a lot of anger and screaming afterwards but for Y/N and Eret it just fueled their hatred toward each other. If the other one wasn’t there, then they wouldn’t have this problem in the first place but since this wasn’t the case all they could do as proper heirs to their respecting kingdoms was to make the others existence pain.

Over the years their rivalry became infamous and nobles who invited both to their festivities either tried to keep increased watch over them or to the detriment of both sides of the families, tried to incite them. Noble people where a strange lot, trying to find entertainment in the weirdest places.

Not that Y/N or Eret cared too much. They were too busy trying to screw the other over though their methods changed over the years. As kids they were more physical with it while the older they got they tended to use their words more and more to the relieve of their parents.

A good example for that was when both were about sixteen years old.

At this point they learned to rein in their anger towards the other and instead concentrated more or less on their royal duties. Well, they tried but every time they saw each other anger would just flood their systems.

It was a typical ball really. The nobles were busy mingling with each other, spreading false compliments in order to gain the political or social upper hand. Some called it an intricate game but Y/N thought it was just stupid. Just say what you think and don’t sugar coat it. That was something and maybe the only thing he and Eret could agree on. As much as he hated that guy he wasn’t scared to tell Y/N what he thought of him.

He appreciated him for that. A shiver ran down his spine as soon as that thought crossed his mind and Y/N just shoved it away. Never in his life would he actually appreciate that mad prince.

That said it was a bit weird how he hasn’t spotted Eret yet. Not that he was specifically looking out for him or anything. He just wanted to be aware where he was so he could avoid him. Was he invited? His family was here but he seemed to be gone. Maybe he finally gave up trying to one up Y/N and stayed home.

Y/N doubted that though. The only reason why Eret wouldn’t appear to something like this was if he was seriously sick. It happened only once and Y/N ended up being bored to death. So what if he derived entertainment from his rival? That’s a part of the reason what rivalries are for, right?

Spending so much time thinking about him made Y/N uncomfortable. This one feeling in the pit of his stomach just flared up again which he didn’t appreciate one bit. Just another reason why Eret was so annoying. He was the only person this happened with.

Bored out of his mind Y/N begun moving through the ball room. There was one place Eret could be hiding away at. If anything Y/N could predict some behavior from him over the years. Making sure to stay away from all the dancing people and the conversations, not feeling interested to take part in it. Instead he moved towards the gardens.

It was just the place he and Eret would default to since at the slightest chance of trouble the other nobles liked to throw them out immediately.

So when he spotted Eret walking around the rose bushes it didn’t completely surprise him.

“And here I thought I spied a birds nest in between the bushes but alas it is just Eret’s hair.”

Eret visibly flinched once he heard Y/N. Apparently he had been so busy with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Y/N approaching him. He frowned at the other prince while he in return was just smirking smugly.

Sighing Eret walked over to a particular big rose and begun inspecting it“ And I thought I would finally be free of you. You arrived late, huh?”

“Hardly my fault, though I too was hoping you finally conceded and stayed home but here you are just staring at some roses like some hopeless romantic prince from some sort of fairy tale.”

When Eret didn’t immediately fire back and hesitated Y/N’s eyes widened “No! Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me you actually have a crush on someone! Who is the poor person?”

As he spoke the words out loud it felt like his chest was ablaze. Something about that thought rubbed him the wrong way. He just labelled it as a different way for his annoyance towards Eret to show up but it confused him nonetheless.

Realistically what did he care about his love affairs?

Finally Eret vehemently shook his head “No, nothing like that! Why was this where your mind went? I was just bored and am looking at the flowers. Even you can admit that they are pretty, right?” Eret chuckled “Or are you jealous somehow?”

“Only in your dreams.” Y/N responded with a disgusted expression on his face.

“Nightmares you mean.” Eret added before pulling one rose out of the bush.

Y/N looked around hoping none of the staff or someone else saw this “Dude, what the hell are you doing? If you get into trouble for stealing flowers and I’m around everyone will think I’m part of this.”

“They won’t notice, Y/N. Well, they will only notice it if you aren’t careful enough. You need to have an eye for such things and me begrudgingly knowing you as well as I do, you do not have an eye for that.”

This is always how it happens. Every god damn time. One of the two would make a statement that the other person couldn’t do a very specific thing and all bets were off.

A dangerous glint appeared in Y/N’s eyes “I’ll give you the most amazing rose bouquet without tipping anyone off.” He didn’t seem to realize what he just said but Eret did.

While Y/N turned around in order to scour out the place Eret was still standing in the back. A soft blush on his face. Almost angry with himself he frowned and turned to the opposite direction Y/N just went. He was just so frustrating to be around. Doesn’t even think before he speaks.

This whole endeavor took longer than both initially expected. Most of the time they would just saunter between the bushes only occasionally plucking a flower off. Often enough the two stood in front of the same rose, trying to act as fast as possible to get it before the other.

Eret clearly went for the flower first but once his hand touched the stem of the rose, Y/N was there as well, his hand brushing past Eret’s, holding onto the lower part of the stem.

“You’ve got be kidding me.” Y/N cursed.

Eret squinted his eyes as he looked at him “What do you mean? I went for it first! You still continued grabbing it like the brute you are!”

Y/N gasped in a fake display of disbelief. Acting like the biggest insult just got hurled towards him when in fact Eret has said worse things before or even the countless nobles who suffered damages due to their shenanigans.

Both stared at each other, not letting go off the rose. Their brows furrowed into deep scowls as they just continued staring at each other. Hoping that for some reason any kind of weakness would just magically appear or that someone will let go off the damn flower.

It was incredibly uncomfortable for the both of them. Y/N and Eret both stared directly into each other’s eyes. Pink dusted faces turned towards one another, not daring to move a muscle.

“God, I hate you so much.” Y/N grumbled.

Eret nodded “Believe me the feeling is mutual.”

After a few more seconds of staring and angry expressions they both let go at the same time.

There they stood. Two princes of enemy kingdoms holding each a small bouquet of roses with blushing faces.

If you would ask them about it they would immediately exclaim the blush was just a result of their anger bubbling out.

Eret let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding “Tie?”

Y/N looked down at his own bouquet “Yeah, sure, let’s call it a tie. This is stupid anyhow.”

That was the last time they saw each other for a while.

Since they both were heirs to their respective thrones they soon got sent away to boarding schools in order to get properly trained for their future duties. Besides being educated and introduced what these duties actually entailed, they also got trained in the art of combat.

While most of, if not all, nobles learn how to fight it was something expected from Y/N and Eret. They had to get good at it. A tradition that still stemmed from the waring days of their competing nations.

So for the next four years Y/N was sent away to a boarding school inside his own nation, only later hearing that Eret befell the same fate, which didn’t surprise him.

The years dragged on rather slowly. Most of the subjects were boring but Y/N realized they were important so he put himself through the grueling task of proper studying. The daily training sessions helped him immensely by bringing some sort of change to his every day and tended to look forward to them. Mostly since he became good friends with his coach. A mercenary hired by his family to train him.

Becoming a friend to him, while others tried stay away from Y/N. Most didn’t dare to approach the only heir of their kingdom, others knew he was a bit of a troublemaker and stayed away from him because of it.

Y/N caught himself missing Eret from time to time. While he was annoying and infuriating at best, Y/N couldn’t help but think it was more enjoyable than spending his time alone surrounded by people around his age.

Every now and again his thoughts would always jump back to Eret. Hell, he even once considered writing him a letter before he stopped in his tracks, realizing what he was about to do. Silently chastising himself for it.

Y/N graduated when he was twenty. His parents amazed by his progress threw compliments towards his improved behavior.

“Guess Prince Eret was the problem all along.” His mother noted.

He scoffed, of course Eret was the majority of the reason for the problems. His mother only needed to mention him and Y/N already felt the same annoyance from back then again. Guess some things never change.

It was the time for a lot of nobles to graduate so one family took it up on themselves to prepare a grand ball in order to celebrate these young adults. It also helped to bring all the heirs and influential people together to form new relationships that could be beneficial for their future rule.

Y/N got invited as well.

As a graduation gift his parents bought him fancy new clothes made out of the finest cloth. While he thought it was a bit over the top, it was comfortable so he didn’t complain too much. They even fashioned him with a ceremonial crown that complimented the whole outfit quite nicely.

It was only then that it really sunk in what this all meant for him. He had to act proper no matter what from now on. While people were always aware of him, now they were really watching. This also meant he had to start to properly get into contact with other influential families and nations which meant he had to actually dance on this ball.

So when he and his family stepped out of the wagon that brough them to this event, his heart was beating fast. Y/N was nervous and yet he still managed to put on a confident smile. He didn’t go through all these etiquette classes without learning a few things at least.

When he walked into the ball room, a servant announced his and his families arrival which caused a lot of people to turn their heads. It was the first official outing of an heir to an incredibly strong nation, of course they wanted to see what he was like.

In fact it didn’t take long until Y/N got swarmed by multiple people talking courteously and making conversation with him. He returned the gestures and mingled with the others, curious to see if anyone interesting was here. It was the first time in a long time people didn’t seem to avoid him, even if it was purely for the purpose of forming new beneficial connections.

It beat sitting around alone.

Y/N slowly scanned the huge room with his eyes that’s when he spied something that made his heart figuratively jump into his throat.

In the corner stood someone tall with a shock of brown and fluffy hair that got pushed down by a crown. He wore an amazing suit made out of silk and with a variant of different purples completed with something that resembled a cape. As he talked to the person in front of him he had this huge, genuine, beautiful smile on his face that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

He was handsome that’s all he could say about him. Knocking all the air out of Y/N’s lungs.

Pressing his hand against his madly blushing face Y/N tried to look like he was deep in thought and not just silently checking out this one person way off in the corner.

“Be still my beating heart.” Y/N mumbled as he pressed his free hand on his chest. Feeling his heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage. Luckily no one heard him but he did receive a few worried and confused looks. Guess he wasn’t as sneaky about his display of emotions as he had thought.

Y/N took a deep breath in and coughed in order to calm himself down a bit “I’m sorry to interrupt you all, but I need to go. I need to find something out. It was an honor talking with you and I hope we can continue this later on.”

With all the confidence he didn’t have Y/N slowly made his way towards that person. Something was just pulling him towards him and he needed to at least know his name. It was like his heart and mind both yelled at Y/N.

While walking he could tell that his breath was short. He felt hot and he was certain that his face was still in a lovely shade of red.

Did he just develop a probably one sided crush? Perhaps.

Once he got close enough, he begun to tremble. His knees felt weak and by god he wanted to turn around but something in him just forced him to move on. As if this was his only chance to ever exchange even a word with that stranger.

Y/N was about to put on a polite smile and wave towards him but the stranger was faster and turned towards him.

The stranger audibly and unmistakably gasped. His eyes wide open as his face suddenly turned into a similar shade of red to Y/N.

“Hello.” Y/N begun speaking. He wanted to introduce himself but his voice failed him. Throat and lips dry out of nervousness.

“Y/N?” he spoke with a deep, soothing voice and Y/N had to admit he liked hearing his name coming out of his mouth.

Wait that handsome stranger knew him?

That’s when it hit him. But that can’t be! That was impossible, he would have recognized him immediately!

“Oh. Eret?”

Y/N put his hand against his mouth trying to hide the smile and blush. Why was he feeling like this? Why wasn’t his typical white anger returning? He still had that fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach but something felt different. Maybe it was the maturity from the years or maybe he just imagined it.

Eret was madly blushing and just staring at Y/N as he slowly lifted up his trembling hand “Let’s talk. Would you care for a dance?”

That feeling in his stomach increased as well as the beating of his heart and yet Y/N put his hand into that of Eret’s. Together they walked towards the middle of the room. Slowly beginning to dance.

Y/N was at this point biting his lip. He wanted to talk, say anything but his mind was running in overdrive. No proper sentences would form. Luckily some sort of muscle memory jumped in when it came to the dancing but everything else? No, he was completely screwed.

Why now? Why was he reacting like this?

“You look like you are doing well.” Eret suddenly spoke. His voice trembling almost as much as his hands.

Y/N nodded as he continued moving in tandem with Eret. Their feet skillfully moving around on the dance floor.

“You look good, uh, I mean, you look alright as well, you do look good but I mean you seem to be doing good as well.” After Y/N stammered that out he mentally begun cursing himself out.

He used to wrestle Eret into the mud, why is this happening to him? Why can’t he just go back to his anger, that was easier to deal with. Wait, is that the reason why their anger towards each other held on for so long? Sure, their families had always a rivalry but over time something must have subtly changed concerning their relationship that it managed to end up like this.

Y/N felt like a lovesick pre-teen and he hated it.

Eret suddenly let out a short laugh “I’m guessing you didn’t expect this as well?”

Y/N raised his eyebrows “I- I have no idea what you mean. Like, seriously, what exactly of this do you mean?” Of course his nervousness showed itself via him ranting his thoughts off.

“Us meeting like this again.”

“Seeing our past track record I feel like it was inevitable, though this time it certainly does feel different.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Eret smirked and gave Y/N a wink only to end up turning back into a blushing mess himself.

Now Y/N begun to chuckle, his blush ever present on his face, he pressed his forehead against Eret’s shoulder. Trying his best to hide his face from his view, not willing to give Eret the satisfaction that he succeeded in whatever the hell he just did.

Instead of stopping the two continued to dutifully dance. The best way for a private conversation was while dancing after all but the two were too busy snickering at themselves.

While Y/N had his head still pressed against Eret, Eret spoke up “I’m glad you are here, Y/N. Meeting you here like that again after these years, it made me realize something.”

“Like what?” The same was true of him, of course but he was almost scared of saying it out loud.

Y/N looked back up again but Eret hesitated. His eyes landed on Y/N’s lips only to immediately snap back up to his eyes.

So when he asked “May I?” Y/N knew exactly what he meant.

He gave him a nod which resulted in the two stopping to dance. Eret placed one of his hands against Y/N’s jawline and the other continued to rest at his side as he closed the space between their lips. At first softly brushing their lips for a small second but then Eret went back in pressing his lips properly on Y/N’s only to separate after a few moments.

Y/N put his hands on Eret’s chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart beneath his fingertips “I thought you hated me.” He noted smugly.

Eret laughed “I guess we both were wrong in some way.” He immediately dove back into Y/N’s lips, deepening the kiss, ignoring the confused and surprised noises from all the other guests.

[littlewinter1917]

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𝔸 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℤ𝕠𝕠

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.

Series Masterlist

Words: 8.7k

Pairing: Steve Roger x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Steve make the most out of the last days of summer and decide to visit the local zoo. But as fun and romantic as the activity is, you also have to face the fact that dating a well-known Super Soldier isn't always easy.

Warnings: It's pretty much just pure fluff, with the tiniest sparks of angst. Pet names (mostly Sweetheart & Angel) and some teasing. Maybe an undetected swearword or two.

If there are any warnings, that you think are missing, please don‘t hesitate to reach out and tell me, so I can add them accordingly.

A/N: This is my first time writing and sharing a story, so if you're reading this, I hope you enjoy!

“Sweetheart, are you ready yet?”

Steve calls out from the bedroom, hoping you’ll hear him while you’re getting ready a few doors down in the bathroom.

“Yes! I’m almost done!” you shout back, straightening your t-shirt and taking one last look in the mirror.

The excitement you feel is clearly written on your face, and you can’t help but let out a small squeal at the thought of all the animals you’ll be going to see and pet.

You are so caught up in your little daydream, that you don’t notice Steve’s approaching footsteps or the soft opening of the bathroom door.

With your mind still occupied, you turn around to leave the bathroom, only to be met with the sudden and unsuspected sight of Steve leaning casually against the door frame, smiling down at you lovingly.

“Good God, Steve!” you exclaim startled, clutching your hand to your chest, trying to calm down your now rapid heartbeat. Steve’s adoring gaze quickly turns into a more apologetic one, once he realizes that he accidentally scared you.

“Sorry Angel, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” he concedes, while gently pulling you closer and placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Hm,‘s not your fault.” you whisper against them whilst playing with the soft strands of hair at the back of his neck. Steve just hums at that, before tightening his arms around you and gently kissing your shoulder.

“So, you’re ready to go?” he murmurs against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You only manage to nod in approval, not wanting to disturb the little moment of tenderness that engulfs the two of you. But once Steve starts to draw soft patterns on your back, you can’t help but let out a small sigh of content, snuggling closer to his chest and basking in the feeling of his gentle embrace.

The moment is short-lived though, as Steve decides to break the otherwise comfortable silence. “We should get going soon,” he mumbles, voice low, as he gently untangles himself from you.

Even though you try not to, you let out a soft whine, voicing your displeasure at the loss of his touch, making Steve coo.

“You can get all the cuddles you want Sweetheart, when we’re back from our little trip.” A small huff escapes your lips before you demonstratively hold out your pinky finger to him.

The sight of your stubborn determination makes Steve laugh, and the warmth of its sound fills both the room and your heart, making you smile.

“I pinky promise that you can get all the cuddles you want, Sweetheart.” Steve adoringly whispers, intertwining your little fingers, before pulling you into him again, gently kissing your forehead.

Your hands instinctively grab and hold on to him, trying to get him closer, and your honest display of affection and longing for him makes his heart flutter.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he coos, “I thought you were excited about going to the zoo, hm?”

Oh god, the zoo!

You almost forgot about that completely, and by your wide-eyed reaction, Steve can clearly tell.

“So, you want to keep the penguins waiting, or… ?” he teases, and you playfully slap his side before reluctantly letting go and trying to move past him.

“You know, if you’d rather stay in today and have the zoo-date another time, we can always reschedule.” He says, his eyes searching yours, trying to communicate the same reassurance that his voice transports.

“No.” you chirp. The excitement from earlier is already back in your eyes, and you shake your head to emphasize your stand. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to keep the penguins waiting.” you add.

“Alright, then let’s get our things and get going. There is only so little time, and so many animals to see.”

“And plants!” you add enthusiastically, being almost equally excited about the small botanical garden that’s incorporated in the more tropical segment of the zoo.

“And the plants.” Steve agrees, while following you down the hallway, smiling.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

While you were getting ready earlier, Steve had packed everything you two could possibly need into a big, sturdy backpack.

“I think we have everything.” Steve mumbles, more to himself than to you, while briefly going through its content again. “We have some sunscreen, sunglasses, water bottles and those sandwiches you helped me make, some snacks and fruits, money for the tickets, keys …”

He trails off, looking over the room once more, trying to think of anything he might have forgotten.

When he spots his baseball cap near the entrance, he speaks up again.

“Sweetheart, do you want to take a hat with you? The weather is supposed to get even hotter, and I don’t want you to get a heatstroke or something.”

“I think I’ll be fine, Stevie.” your voice is a little bit mumbled, since you’re currently kneeling on the ground, preoccupied with trying to tie up your sneakers.

“Alright! Well, I’ll be wearing mine, at least at the beginning …”

Steve doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t need to – you already know what he is trying to say.

He’ll be wearing the cap not as a prevention for a possible heatstroke, but for the simple sake of at least some sense of anonymity, trying to lessen the chances of him being recognized.

It’s not like Steve hates the attention he often gets from the public. There are times when he is more than happy to stop for a quick photo or a handshake, but when he is out and about with you by his side, he does desire a certain sense of privacy, and so do you.

When you two first started dating, that was the hardest thing to get used to, and truth be told, you still struggle with it.

Obviously, you’d been aware of Steve’s public persona as Captain America, and the responsibility that the title entailed, long before you even started dating, but the visibility and public scrutiny that came with his occupation, was rather new to you.

Especially once the word got out, that the two of you were dating. Suddenly parts of the public interest that were initially focused on him also shifted on to you.

You used to joke, that if you’d get a dollar every time Steve and you get approached by people in public, you’d easily be able to compete with Tony’s net worth. And while you were obliviously exaggerating and making fun of the situation, Steve could also tell that it was taking somewhat of a toll on you.

To be fair, it wasn’t like you hated those encounters across the board. There were, and still are, a lot of times where Steve’s interactions with the public are nice to watch and take part of.

The number of times, for example, that random children would approach him, starstruck and starry-eyed, are as countless as they are endearing, which is to say, very - and, subsequently, many.

It always makes your heart gleam with a mixture of pride and joy when you get to witness those interactions.

You’re not quite sure if it is because Steve is naturally good with kids, or kids are naturally good with Steve, but each encounter is filled with a warmth and a gentleness, that makes your heart both melt and pop.

And so, you tend to stand there with your heart in a puddle, while Steve talks and engages with the children in such a carefree yet gentle way.

But there are also some encounters, that don’t spark as much joy.

Or none at all, if you’re being honest.

Those are usually the ones whose timing couldn’t be worse. Like getting approached while the two of you are having small romantic dates out in the park or in cozy coffee shops. Even your cute little trips to museums and art galleries once in a while aren’t spared from the casual interference of others.

There’s almost always someone, somewhere, shouting in both a mixture of disbelief and joy:“Is this Captain America?”

And then the heads start to turn, and the murmur starts, and your previous little date idea gets turned into a live meet-and-greet Captain America event.

And it sucks.

It’s not like you want to keep Steve all to yourself; it’s just that you don’t want to share him every single time you two go out in public together. Especially when it’s supposed to be a fun and romantic activity just between the two of you.

And so, because of that, Steve often tries to keep his recognizability somewhat more subtle and limited by wearing his baseball cap and some sunglasses, but there’s only so much that that supposed ‘transformation’ can do.

Tony once kindly offered that the department responsible for the Avengers suits and apparel could probably help, and come up with a more cohesive incognito look, but that didn’t work out too well either. Not for a lack of trying on their part, though.

You two had taken them up on that offer once, and they managed to turn Steve into someone so completely unrecognizable, that you almost walked past him when you’d come to pick him up.

Apart from his clothing, plaid trousers and a simple button-down shirt that emitted more the vibe of a hip history professor, the thing that threw you off the most was the 16 inches-long wig he was wearing. It made him look like Thor’s long-lost twin brother, and you could hardly take his appearance seriously.

When you finally managed to stop laughing, you pulled him into the living quarters of the compound, where the laughing continued, once everybody realized who they were looking at.

The Date to the planetarium that followed went great; not a single person recognized and approached the two of you. The only downside was that the date with Steve didn’t really feel like a date with Steve.

Apart from the reason that Steve’s long-haired wig made you feel like you were out and about with a beefier version of Jesus, rather than your treasured Super Soldier, the wig was also highly unpractical in a more tangible sense. Every time you turned to him and leaned in for a kiss, your hands and jewelry would easily get tangled up in his long strands of synthetic hair.

Neither of you were used to the hairy mess the Avenger’s apparel department provided you with – and it showed.

It did make for a fun date tough.

Steve was highly amused about the amount of double takes you had to do when you were looking for him.

You, on the other hand, had the time off your life once the two of you exited the planetarium, only to be greeted with a pleasant afternoon breeze, that took Steve – and his hair – by surprise. It looked like an unsuspected hair commercial in the making, and you almost tripped down the stairs laughing while trying to take a photo of Steve’s glorious mane in the wind.

All in all, it was a good time, but at the end of it, you both decided that it was neither worth the trouble nor a sustainable solution to your problem. And so, Steve traded his wig for his beloved baseball cap again, even if it heightened the possibility of him being recognized.

You knew that Steve was trying his best to give you some sense of normality in your experience of dating a super-famous Super Soldier, and you appreciated his efforts, even when they didn’t always work out.

Once you and Steve step outside of the Avenger’s Tower, you’re hit with both: The sudden brightness of the sun, and the common busyness and noise of New York City’s bustling streets.

One single ray of sunshine manages to find its way between the tall skyscrapers in front of you, making you squint. Instinctively you raise one hand in an attempt to shield your eyes from its blazing gaze.

Steve, who is already wearing his sunglasses, quickly gets out your pair for you and you gratefully take them. His attentiveness is something you’ll never get tired of; even when he sometimes has the tendency to dote over you, it’s rather endearing.

You make your way down the street. Hand in hand, because the craze of the city can otherwise easily separate the two of you.

Even without the frantic mass of people, that hastily bustles about the avenues, in a city that big, you will always seek out the shelter of your beloved Super Soldier, who still knows this place in a way you probably never will.

So, in an attempt to not get lost, or trampled, or abducted, your hand reaches out for his, and his hand does the same.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Steve navigates himself and you through the city like he’s done it a million times before, and it never fails to amaze you how good his sense of direction is. It’s something you’re obviously lacking, and Steve can’t help but teasingly bring it up every now and then.

This time around though, he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps talking about the little, newly opened Italian restaurant that you two just passed by.

“It looked really cozy and busy – that’s always a good sign, right? Maybe we can check it out this weekend.” Steve offers, while gently swinging your joined hands back and forth.

You hum in agreement, more focused on not getting jostled by the oncoming businessmen and -women.

Gripping his hand tighter, you curl up more into Steve’s side, seeking out the protection and safety of his tall statue.

Once Steve realizes what’s going on, he immediately pulls you close to him, wrapping his arm protectively around your smaller frame and making sure you’re okay.

“I can always give you a piggyback ride.” he offers, and you shake your head, laughing.

As inviting as that proposal sounds, the fear of the potential attention it might garner makes you decline his offer. You’d rather be subjected to the ongoing pushing and shoving of some careless pedestrians, than the unwanted attention and possibility of recognition.

“We’re nearly there, Sweetheart.” Steve gently encourages you, while keeping you as close to him as possible, leading you down the busy streets of New York.

You must have picked a good time to visit the zoo, because the line in front of the ticket booth is almost non-existent.

It doesn’t take long for it to be your turn, and Steve immediately takes charge, getting the tickets. The woman at the counter also hands him some pamphlets with certain attractions, and a small map, which he gratefully takes.

You softly tug on his arm, trying to get his attention, before pointing at the small bags with dry food, that are arranged on a shelf behind the vendor.

“Can we buy some of that food for the animals in the petting zoo?” you ask, eyes bright.

Steve instantly agrees, and the small squeal of joy that escapes your lips is like music to his ears. “There you go, Sweetheart.” he says, as he hands you your ticket and the small paper cone, filled with little pellets of dry food.

“Thanks, Stevie!” The way you beam up at him has his heart doing flips.

God, you’re adorable.

“So, where do you want to go first?” he asks, while looking down at the open map in his hands.

“The petting zoo!” you chime while clapping your hands in delight. You have to suppress the urge to just grab Steve's hand and drag him to the enclosure, so instead you softly bounce on the spot.

Looking up from his map, Steve’s eyes soften once he sees how you’re barely able to contain your excitement. It radiates off of you in a way that’s contagious.

Well, contagious to him anyway.

“Alright.” he approves, and that’s all the agreement you need, before sprinting into action, grabbing Steve’s hand, and tugging him along.

You only come to a brief halt at the doors of the enclosure, while you read the small signs that introduce some of the animals inside of it.

The petting zoo contains mostly goats, bunnies, guinea pigs and some piglets, but there are also two donkeys and one of them is called …

“Steve!” you joyfully exclaim.

“The donkey is named after you!”

The man in question furrows his brow, and you point him to the part on the metal sign, where the donkeys get introduced.

“See, Steve and Sally. Aww, he even looks a little bit like you!” you coo, looking at the small picture they provide next to the profile.

“I don’t quite see it.” Steve says dryly, and you huff.

“He even has similar interests to yours. It says here that he likes sunshine, early morning runs, pets behind his ears and bananas!

Biting your lip to keep yourself from laughing, you innocently look up at Steve, who regards you with a fake scowl.

“You’re being awfully bratty today, Angel.” he chides, yet his words don’t have any bite to them.

“Me? Never!” your fake indignation is riddled with the giggles you’re desperately trying to hold in. That mission fails completely though, once you read the Interesting Fact they provide next to each introduced animal.

“Oh my god, Steve!” you croak out between laughter. “He even tried to eat an American flag once. God, I love him already!”

Before Steve has the chance to reply, you’re dragging him into the enclosure. “Come on, let’s meet my newfound hero!”

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

The donkey is just as cute as in the picture, and even friendlier than you imagined. After you introduced yourself and Steve - you couldn’t help yourself from saying “Steve, meet Steve,” while pointing between the tall Super Soldier and the rather small pony-sized creature – you slowly started petting the animal.

The happy brays he lets out make you laugh softly, and your smile only widens once your eyes find Steve’s.

“Don’t you dare say he sounds like me too!” Steve exclaims, and that comment only fuels your giggles.

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” you say, while stroking the fur behind the donkey’s ears. “But you have to admit, he’s adorable!” you coo, before quickly adding: “Not as cute as you, of course, but it’s a close second.”

“Well, that’s certainly comforting to hear.” Steve retorts. “So, you’re not gonna leave me for one of those gray-haired fellas?”

“I already have my gray-haired fella at home, old man,” you counter, before whispering a small “almost.”

Steve still picks it up, and his reaction is instant. His strong hands reach out to you, playfully poking your sides.

“You take that back! You take that back right now!” he urges, laughing, as you try to squirm away from his grasp, the sweet sound of your giggles filling the air. Your antics only come to a halt once you’re breathlessly begging for mercy, and Steve pulls you in for a hug.

“You still have a lot of energy for a 103-year-old.” you whisper.

“Oh Sweetheart, you know, I can be relentless.” he counters, and you hum in agreement.

“You don’t actually look like a donkey.” you try to clarify. “It’s just that the donkey somehow looks like you.”

Before Steve can rekindle his attacks, you’re already apologizing again. “I’m joking! I’m joking!” you exclaim, as soon as you feel the tiniest brush of his fingertips poking your sides.

Hugging him closer once more, you whisper: “I’m sorry. I’m being mean. You’re still the prettiest man on the planet, and you always will be.”

Brushing your hands softly through his hair and gently cupping his cheek, you notice the small red tint that adorns them.

“Aww you’re blushing!” you quietly tease. “I guess I don’t call you pretty enough. I need to tell you that more, I think.” you observe.

His blush only deepens, and you coo again.

He really is the prettiest man alive. And the sweetest, and kindest, and bravest.

As you softly tell him all about your thoughts, his grip around you tightens, and he burrows his face in your neck.

“I love you so much.” you mumble against his shoulder, and even though you can’t see him right now, you know that he’s smiling.

“I love you too.” he whispers back, voice low, before gently kissing your forehead.

His lips lingers there for a moment before he speaks up again.

“I think we need to stop; there’s an older lady, who’s already giving us the stink-eye.”

“Oh, let her stare. If they look at you funny, you just look right back at them funny, that normally does the trick for me.”

“I’m not going to glare down a grandma!” Steve whispers exasperated.

“Well, you might not, but I certainly will, if she's making you uncomfortable.” you announce, and Steve just shakes his head, laughing.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

After moving on from the donkeys, you spend some time with the goats. Even Steve has to admit that they are rather endearing.

“Maybe we should bring Bucky with us next time. You know how he still gushes about the goats he had in Wakanda. I’m sure he’d enjoy some time here.” you suggest, while feeding a small brown doeling.

She softly munches the food right out of the palm of your hand, and the feeling of her rough tongue on your skin makes you giggle.

“If we would bring Buck, that’s going to be your liability, because I’m pretty sure he would never leave the goat enclosure again.” Steve observes.

“Can’t really blame him. I might have my donkey at home, but those goats certainly have character.” you tease.

Instead of answering, Steve decides to just throw some pellets your way.

“Hey!” you whine playfully, before making a counter strike. When you don’t hit your target, Steve just grins at you cheekily.

It’s that boyish smile you love so much, and it fills your heart with a joy that’s carefree and content. It feels just like the soft sunrays that are currently caressing your skin: Warm, light, and golden.

Your thoughts are only interrupted once another pellet flies your way, barely missing your face.

“Hey!” you exclaim once more, laughing, yet Steve’s eyes turn instantly apologetic when he realizes he almost struck your pretty face. You quickly reassure him that it’s alright, before walking over to the rabbits and guinea pigs, patiently sitting down next to them.

Rather than just grabbing one, you wait for one of the timid rodents to approach you instead. A small – and presumably younger – bunny seems curious enough, as he hops your way, and you manage to coax him with some food and a very gentle voice. His fluffy fur is in an off-white color with gray specks and his floppy ears twitch every now and then.

“Hey little friend.” you whisper once his wiggly nose brushes your open palm. It takes some more coaxing before he starts eating out of it, and you beam at that development.

Steve watches the interaction with a soft, adoring gaze.

God, Wanda was right. He really is head over heels for you.

But then again, how could he not be.

There’s a gentleness and kindness in the way you approach the world, and the fact that you’ve chosen him out of all people to trust the most, fills his heart with an endless amount of pride and happiness, that’s hard to put into words.

You’ve come into his life like a whirlwind, turning everything upside down and taking over his heart by storm.

Without your knowing, you made all of his previous priorities flip, until you were the only and most important thing on his mind. You still are, of course, and Steve is sure that this is something that will never change.

You’re the one.

The one who’s voice and laughter he’ll never grow tired of hearing.

The one who he comes home to after a rough mission, taking up the biggest space in his bed and in his heart – and he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

You’re the most precious thing on the planet, and he’d burn it all down if he had to, just to keep you safe.

“Steve!” you softly call out to him, and his focus shifts back on you.

The small bunny is now sitting contently in your lap, while you’re sporting the proudest look.

“His fur is so soft!” you quietly mouth to him, and he smiles before making his way to you, gently kneeling down by your side. “Here! Feel!” you chirp, as you carefully guide his hands towards the small bunny.

“Do you think we could get some of those?” you carefully ask.

“Of course.” Steve agrees without really thinking - he doesn’t need to. If you want it, you’ll get it; no questions asked. He’ll even fight Tony on it if he has to, or anyone else for that matter.

“Really?” you beam.

“I pinky promise, Sweetheart.” he whispers before kissing the top of your head and standing back up. You follow suit, after carefully moving the bunny from your lap.

“Let’s just visit the piglets, and then we can move on to the bigger animals!” you proclaim, while reaching for Steve’s hand again, gently tugging him towards the small, baby pink piggies.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Once you’ve finished cooing over the small piglets while simultaneously feeding and petting them, you and Steve make your way back towards the regular path of the zoo.

Steve had just gotten out his map again, trying to visualize the vicinity, when you spot the panda enclosure.

Nice!

“Steve, do we have to consider the map? Can’t we just walk around and go wherever our curiosity takes us?” you ask.

“You mean, wherever your curiosity takes you.” Steve teases and you let out a small huff while folding your arms over your chest, defensively.

“Not true.” you whine, before adding: “I can’t help it if I’m younger and pick up more things, you know.”

“Uh-huh” Steve hums. “And patience is a virtue that …”

“I’ve never met once in my life.” you finish the sentence for him.

“That is not the quote I was going for, but it certainly rings true too.” Steve agrees, before folding his map up again. “Alright, so where’s your curiosity leading you to, this time.” he concedes with a warm smile and your eyes light up at that.

“Easy, this way!” you say, before grabbing his hand, dragging him along once more.

“Steve, look!” you exclaim, while excitedly pointing at the wild cat enclosure. There’s a tiger that’s currently taking a bath, and it completely seizes your attention.

At the risk of sounding like a total lovesick fool, Steve has to admit that he’s way more encaptured by your endearing reactions to everything, than the actual attractions and animals themselves.

You two already visited the panda and bear enclosure, looked at some monkeys, zebras, hippos, and foxes, and now you’re leading him towards the area with the wildcats.

Lynx, lions, pumas, cheetahs, and some tigers are what’s initially advertised; still, he’s barely able to focus on that.

With your hands closely intertwined, and your soft voice that calls out to him, his attention has a hard time staying away from you.

You’re especially excited by the cheetahs, and you enthusiastically tell him all the facts you know about them.

How they’re incredibly fast and powerful, yet often also anxious and shy. You tell him how some of the cheetahs living in captivity often need emotional support dogs, to help them cope with their high levels of stress.

They’re the true scaredy cat-cats.

After your ramblings about the wildcats, you start gushing over their emotional support dogs. “They must be so proud!” you tell him. “Imagine being a dog, who ends up working with those cheetahs. How badass it that? Like a mouse who’s a therapist for a housecat, or a sparrow that takes care of an alligator…”

Steve smiles at your excitement, while listening attentively to everything you’re saying.

How did he ever get this lucky?

But as your speech slowly comes to an end, another sound appears. It’s faint, but Steve’s Super Soldier hearing still picks it up. He’s heard it enough times to be able to identify it – It’s the sound of your tummy rumbling.

“Sweetheart, are you hungry?” he questions, and you look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Dammit, I had hoped you didn’t catch that.” you mumble embarrassed, and Steve laughs.

“How about we look for a more quiet space, where we can eat some of our sandwiches and snacks.” he proposes, and you agree.

This time, Steve takes your hand, leading the way.

After some searching, the two of you managed to find a little bench, shaded by a rather sturdy oak. The tree doesn’t just shield you from the blazing sun, but also from the curious gaze of others.

It’s a romantic little space, as you look out onto a small park area, not too far off from the peacock enclosure. You’d stopped there briefly, fascinated by their colorful display of shimmering feathers, before moving on.

And now, you're sitting here, next to Steve, eating your little sandwich and sharing some small snacks. It's calm and peacefully quiet, apart from some faint bird-chirping and the remote sound of children’s laughter, carried over to you by a soft summer breeze.

“This was such a lovely idea, Steve.” you comment quietly once you’ve finished your sandwich.

The man in question smiles at that. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Angel.”

You hum in agreement, before popping some fresh berries into your mouth.

The satisfied sigh you let out is making Steve laugh. “Are those berries that good?” he questions playfully.

“No, but the view right now is to die for.” you say, while locking eyes with him.

“Hm, I guess you’re right. This little park area certainly has some flair.” Steve agrees, and if it wasn’t for the blueberries in your hand, you’d face-palm right now.

“I’m not taking about the park, Steve.” you clarify, while giving him a pointed look, and he blushes.

“Oh, I see … “ he mumbles, red-tinted embarrassment tainting his cheeks and migrating up to his ears. Who knew a Super Soldier could get that flustered – and look so endearing while doing it.

You weren’t lying though – even with Steve just sitting there, wearing a light gray t-shirt and some washed-out jeans, he looks like a god; Completely out of this world.

And it’s not just his sturdy arms and muscles.

It’s in the way his kind eyes light up, framed by those rich eyelashes.

It’s in the way he looks at you; looks at the world with such benevolence, such compassion, even after everything he’s been through.

Maybe it’s also in the way that those small rays of sunlight, currently shining through the tree crown, illuminate his skin, giving him a golden glow.

But whatever the reason may be, he certainly looks good. Especially, when he’s blushing like that, you think, smiling.

Once you two finished your small lunch, you’re eager to get back to the animals.

The giraffes and elephants are next, followed by the penguins and some wombats.

You and Steve have also established a small game by now.

One of you steps up to the informational sign of the enclosure first and reads it, before letting the other person guess what the Interesting Fact about the animal is.

It’s currently Steve’s turn at guessing, as you two are standing in front of the flamingo area.

“Okay!” you chime, as you turn away from the metal sign, focusing back on Steve. Your eyes are sparkling with excitement, letting Steve know that this fact is going to be good.

“So, flamingos are known for their pink color and dorky looks, but there is something else that makes this animal quite badass. What could that possibly be?” you challenge Steve gleefully.

He ponders your question for a moment, looking over at the pink birds. “Hm, maybe they can stand on one leg for over 24 hours.” he contemplates.

“Is that your final answer?” you question, and the playful glimmer in your eyes lets him already know that he’s wrong.

Still, he stays with his entry and nods.

“Well, that is incorrect!” you announce. “Or at least, that’s not the fact they have written down.” you clarify.

“Okay, I’ll give you three options instead, and only one of them is the correct one.” you offer.

“So, once more, what makes the flamingo so badass? Is it a) they all have pink belts in karate; b) they can drink boiling water; or is it c) they can hold their breath for half an hour when diving for food.” you question, expectantly looking at Steve, who’s scratching his head, laughing.

“Well, it’s either b or c, but they both sound so unbelievable, I might as well go with answer a.” He jokes.

“Sir, I need an answer from you now, the time is running up.” you playfully chide and it’s making him laugh even more.

“Alright, show host, you can log in answer b for me.”

“B? Are you sure?” Steve just nods, and it makes your smile grow wider.

“Well, contestant, you won’t believe me when I say this, but your answer is …. ding, ding, ding – correct!” you exclaim excited, while wrapping your arms around his neck

“Wait, really?” Steve looks at you, dumbfounded. “Uh-huh. Flamingos can apparently drink boiling water.” you reiterate, before pulling him closer.

“Congratulations, soldier, you’ve won the main price!” you whisper against his lips before softly kissing him, and the sweet action makes Steve smile into the kiss, as his heart melts in the blazing sun.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Moving from enclosure to enclosure, your little game continues. There are wolves, deer, beavers, and burrowing owls, and each stop at the gates is filled with your playful antics and shared laughter.

You only come to a short pause, once you notice a small ice cream parlor in the distance, and it doesn’t take much convincing to get Steve to go there with you.

Actually, it doesn’t take any convincing at all.

The shop is small and features only a select number of ice cream flavors. You order 3 scoops each, before happily making your way over to the American bison enclosure.

The area is less crowded and actually quite peaceful. The scenery of the meadow with the occasional grazing bull emitting a sense of tranquility.

While sharing your ice cream, you two watch these seemingly serene creatures, who are just standing there, munching on grass, and lazily gazing at the landscape around them.

There’s a timelessness to them, you think. The way they just stand there, unbothered, like they’ve seen it all.

And maybe they have.

Steve gently pulls you out of your thoughts, when he offers you his last bit of cherry ice cream, holding out his cone to you. You gratefully take him up on his offer, while simultaneously holding your cone out for him.

Sharing is caring after all.

Once your ice cream is done, you and Steve continue sitting there, just talking until Steve suddenly leans closer.

He gently brushes some lingering ice-cream stains from the corner of your mouth with his thumb before licking it off. He keeps his eyes locked on you, and the action leaves your cheeks feeling heated, and your heartrate in a frenzy.

“Two can play this game, Angel.” Steve whispers, giving you a knowing smile.

You let out a small whine, before burrowing your face in his chest, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Steve just coos at your flustered state.

“Steve, stop. You’re giving me heart palpitations,” you mumble into his chest.

“No can do, Sweetheart. It’s only fair that you get a taste of your own medicine.”

You bite back your reply to that; otherwise, you two might end up doing something entirely different.

Unaware of the questionable thoughts in your head; Steve changes the topic, reminding you of the activities you still have planned.

“Do you want to go to the meerkat and prairie dog enclosure, now? Their feeding should start soon.”

You’re still curled up into his chest, basking in the feeling of his strong embrace, and the gentle smell of his cologne. “Can we just stay here a little longer.” you request, voice mumbled, and soft.

Steve lets out a small laugh, that makes his chest rumble and vibrate. “Of course, if that’s what you prefer. You just sounded so excited earlier when you heard about the public feeding.” Steve tries to clarify, making sure that’s what you really want.

Steve’s right. When he told you about the attraction earlier, you could barely contain your excitement at the idea of watching the small animals nibble on some food. But in that very moment, you didn’t really think things through.

It was only sometime later, when your excitement had cooled down a bit, that you realized that this endeavor might not be the best idea.

There’s obviously going to be a crowd watching the spectacle, and those are something to avoid when you’re with your beloved Super Soldier. The chances of getting recognized there, are just a bit too high, yet you’re hesitant to tell those thoughts to Steve.

You don’t want him to feel bad, and you know that he’ll try to convince you that it’s no big deal. You already feel selfish for feeling so protective of your relationship, and the fear that he might think you’re overreacting lingers in your mind, even though he has never given you a reason to do so.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? You’re being awfully quiet right now.” Steve pries. He can tell something is wrong; he just knows you too damn well.

“Nothing!” you chirp, but the sound is off. It’s too high and anxious.

“Angel.” his tone is stern.

Steve doesn’t often use his Captain America voice with you, but when he does, it works every time.

Just like now.

Playing with the fabric of his gray t-shirt and looking anywhere but his eyes, you quietly mumble: “There’s going to be lots of people, Steve. Lots of people to recognize you…”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he knows what you’re getting at, and it makes his heart twist in guilt.

“You know, we can still …”

“No, Steve,” you interrupt him. “We can’t, and I don’t want to. This day has been nothing, but a dream come true. We haven’t been approached once, and I’d like to keep it that way. If I have to sacrifice a meerkat feeding for that, I’ll happily do it.” You state, and Steve sighs.

“I’m sorry, Angel.” he whispers, voice low and tainted with regret. “Maybe you could go there by yourself, while I stay somewhere in the background?” he offers, but you just shake your head.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’d rather see all the other animals with you, then one meerkat feeding without you.”

He smiles at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m still sorry about this.” he mutters, guilt clear in his voice. You sigh. That’s exactly what you were trying to avoid.

“Steve,” you whisper, gently cupping his cheek, making him look at you. “This isn’t your fault. Stop feeling sorry about something that you have no control over, whatsoever. If anything, I’m sorry for being so sensitive about this.” you state.

“No, you have every right to be!” Steve defends, and the conviction in his eyes makes some of your worry ease away.

“Well, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty about that, neither are you.” you assert matter-of-factly, and this time the smile that adorns Steve’s face reaches his bright blue eyes.

“Alright, deal.” he affirms, before taking your hand, sweeping you up from your seat. “Let’s continue. There’s still a lot to explore.”

You’re about to walk into the reptile house when you spot one more open enclosure.

“Oh my God Steve, look!” you call out, while pointing at one of the llamas. “Aww, he looks just like Kuzco!” you observe, and it makes Steve frown in confusion.

“Sweetheart, that’s a rude thing to say about someone.” he softly chides, and you give him a puzzled look.

“What? Are you telling me you don’t know who Kuzco is?” you ask, dumbfounded, and Steve just shakes his head.

“Is he a work friend of yours? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned someone with that name?" he questions, brows still furrowed in confusion.

“Steve!” you laugh, “have you not seen The Emperor’s New Groove?”

“No, I don’t think I have.” he confesses, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Oh my God! I thought Tony introduced you to the best works of this century’s cinema.”

“Yes, but I don’t remember a movie named like that.”

“This is outrageous. I can’t believe you’ve never seen this masterpiece! We’ll have to change that once we’re home!” you proclaim playfully, before taking his hand and walking towards the reptile house.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Stepping into the building, you’re immediately greeted by a sudden temperature drop.

The rooms are a lot darker and cooler then the outside premise, and you can’t help but shiver as goosebumps form on your skin.

Instinctively, you pull Steve closer, grabbing his hand tighter.

The animals that follow vary from adorable to absolutely frightening. The small turtles and geckos make you coo, but the bigger lizards and snakes already sport a more intimidating look.

There are boas, pythons, and mambas, and you have to remind yourself that you’re protected by both the Plexiglas as well as your trusted Super Soldier.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

Once you’ve finished exploring every room, you make your way to the small botanical garden. Its atmosphere stands in stark contrast to that of the dark reptile house.

There are colorful flowers and bright green plants and palm trees.

There’s light coming through the ceiling, illuminating the stone path before you, and the temperature is warmer and a little bit more humid.

After walking through the vicinity, hand in hand, the two of you spot a small, secluded bench. It’s placed next to a little pond, and a small bush of plumerias.

Sitting down, you sigh in content as you breathe in the sweet smell of the little white and yellow flowers. Steve gets out some left-over fruits, and you share a second, small meal. You can hear the soft splatter of water in the background, and it’s as relaxing as can be.

Looking at the man in front of you adoringly, your expression falters when you see the small furrow etched between his brows. He’s thinking about something, and it’s not a pleasant thought.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, having learned the small signs of worry that sometimes cloud the face of your beautiful man.

Steve just sighs, before pulling you closer. So close, you might as well just sit in his lap.

“Was just thinking.” he mumbles, voice low, and still preoccupied with whatever’s going through his mind right now. “About?” you inquire, and the silence that follows makes you sigh in return.

“Steve, we talked about this. Don’t shut me out.” you whisper, knowing that your beloved soldier still has a tendency to keep his worries hidden from your view, trying not to burden you with it.

“I was thinking about the meerkat-thing.” he says, and you groan.

“No, hear me out, Sweetheart,” he continues. “You deserve the world, you truly do, and it pains me to know that everywhere we go, you have to sacrifice something, just because you’re with me. The meerkat-thing is just one of the many examples that reiterate that.”

“Okay,” you assess slowly, “what are you trying to say?” you carefully ask.

“I don’t know.” he whispers.

“I just keep thinking that you have to sacrifice so much, just in order to be with me. I wish I could give you more than that. I wish I could take you out on dates without us having to worry about being recognized, approached and disturbed.”

He looks at you with such turmoil and pain in his eyes, it makes your heart clench and curl up into a ball and cry.

“Oh, Stevie.” you murmur, before gently cupping his face and straddling his lap.

“Steve honey, listen. This whole getting-approached-by-strangers-thing sucks; I’m not gonna lie about that, but do you know what would suck a million times more? Not having you in my life! I could live without going out on anymore dates for the rest of my days, but do you know what I cannot live without? You!” you declare passionately, while looking into Steve’s eyes, which are somewhat glossy.

“Sweetheart.” he mumbles, voice thick with emotions, and you just pull him closer, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck.

“I love you, Steve. I love you even when we’re surrounded by what feels like hundreds of people, who all want a piece of you, and take over our dates.”

You feel a light wetness at the nape of your neck, and you gently brush your hand through Steve’s hair. Blinking away your own tears, you make a soft shushing sound, trying to calm him down.

“I love you. Don’t ever doubt me on that!” you whisper softly, and you feel Steve nod against your skin before whispering a small, timid “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I love you, and as long as you love me back, that’s all I need. That’s enough for me.” you try to clarify, before gently adding: “I know you feel a close kinship and obligation towards people, and you’re too polite to call them out when they approach us at the worst possible timing, but you’re allowed to tell some people off. The shield might be public property, Steve, but you aren’t. You’re allowed to have boundaries too.”

Your kind words fill Steve with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and it spreads on his face in the form of a soft smile. The love he feels for you keeps blooming and expanding, like the fragrant flowers growing all around you.

He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to put it into words just how much you mean to him exactly, but he knows that he’ll try his damn best to show you every single day.

He hopes that that’s enough, hopes that it’s good enough for you. Losing you would be worse than dying, he’s sure of that. But all he manages to mumble out is a soft: “I love you so much.”

His words and voice are filled with such honesty, such devotion and conviction, you fear your heart might pound straight out of your chest, and into his lap.

“I know,” you whisper. “I love you just as much!”

He hums in content, and the silence that follows is the most comfortable silence you’ve ever experienced.

The two of you stay there, curled up in each other’s embrace, basking in one of the best feelings ever. Loving and feeling loved.

🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋 🍋

You’re not sure how much time has passed, when Steve speaks up again, but the sun is slowly starting to set, and it fills the garden with a golden glow.

“You’re ready to go home, Sweetheart?” he questions softly, voice full of affection.

No. You just want to stay in his loving embrace forever, but instead of articulating that, you let out a small whine, while shaking your head demonstratively.

The laugh that rumbles out of Steve’s chest is warm and hearty, and he softly smiles down at you.

“Come on.” he coaxes.

There’s something he’s sure he can beckon you with.

“I think they have a small souvenir shop near the exit with lots of stuffed animals.” he offers, and it makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and excited.

Gotcha. Steve thinks, a satisfied smile on his lips. The promise of stuffed animals works every time.

You slowly untangle yourself from him, before standing up and taking his hand.

“What are you waiting for, old man.” You playfully provoke him while he’s adjusting his backpack.

“Careful Sweetheart, or I might accidentally lose you in the middle of New York.” he says, yet you know it’s an empty threat. He would never even dream of doing something like that, not in a million years.

“Don’t underestimate the grasp I have on you.” you joke, referring to the way you’d normally cling to his arm and hand, but Steve thinks about how true those words are in a broader sense.

How you have the strongest possible grasp on his heart, in the gentlest way.

Unaware of his adoring thoughts, you drag him to the exit of the botanical garden, and he watches you with the warmest smile.

Once you step out of the garden your eyes instantly find, and fixate on the small souvenir shop, walking straight towards it.

The place is spacious and there are a couple of kids running around, shoving stuffed animals in their parents faces. The selection of stuffies is broad, but you already know what you want.

Steve thinks you’ll be going over to the cheetahs, yet he finds himself surprised, when he watches you walk towards… the donkeys?

He observes you carefully picking up a medium-sized stuffie and clutching it tightly to your chest, a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Stevie! Look!” you exclaim, as you turn your attention to him, holding the stuffie up proudly.

Little did you know, he was already looking at you the whole time.

Eyes soft and smile warm.

“Sweetheart, are you sure? Don’t you want something more… exciting?” he questions, as he points to the array of wild cats and panda bears.

“Nope!” you chirp, the look of content on your face clear as day.

He always wants to see you like this - happy, content, satisfied.

“Wait, Stevie! You should get one too!” you exclaim when you see him slowly make his way toward the checkout.

“The donkey will remind me of you when you’re gone on missions, but you need a stuffie that reminds you of me, too!”

“Sweetheart, you’re in the back of my mind 24/7. I don’t need a …”

“Not the point.” you interrupt him.

“You occupy my mind almost all the time as well, but it’s nice to have something tangible to remind you and to keep close sometimes.”

“Alright.” Steve concedes, before looking at the countless shelves of stuffed animals.

Which one should he even pick?

He thinks back to your interactions earlier, thinks about how soft you looked, with that small bunny comfortably sitting in your lap.

He thinks about how excited you were, when you told him everything you knew about cheetahs, eyes sparkling bright.

He thinks about how softly you’d kissed him at the flamingo enclosure, and how serene you looked while you were watching the American bisons - a dreamy look on your face, and ice cream in hand.

God, is picking your own stuffie always that hard?

His eyes continue to wander along the shelves when he spots it.

There’s a medium-sized cheetah stuffie wearing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt with little plumerias printed on it.

That’s you.

Cool, adorable, and with a questionable fashion sense.

Thinking back at how you were holding him close in the botanical garden, the sight of the small flowers instantly fills him with the memories of your comforting words and touch.

That’s the one.

Steve makes his way over to the stuffed animal, and it’s even softer than he’d imagined.

“Oh! It’s adorable!” you coo when you see his choice, and Steve smiles.

That’s the one.

He thinks, as he watches you.

The one, who has complete reign over his heart.

You made yourself quite at home in there, filled it with your sweet laughter and your little smiles, the softness of your touch and the kindness in your eyes.

He keeps all these memories of you safely tugged away, underneath his rib cage, in that little treasure chest he calls his heart.

You’re both, his most prized possession, and the strong protector that watches over it all.

The guardian angel of his heart.

“Steve!” you call out to him, from the checkout.

“They say they have a 10 % senior discount for people over 60! Come over here, and figure this out, please!”

It makes him laugh, and there’s only one thought in his mind:

God, how he adores you.

---------------------------------------------

Ahhh, that's it! Thanks you so much for reading!

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.07

11/03/2020

Waiting to Exhale

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5, 871

Warnings: smut!, SO MUCH FLUFF, smidge of angst, language, talk of pregnancy for the purpose of an heir to the throne

A/N: Y’all, I really tried to move away from the smut this chapter but THOR MAKES ME DO IT! FUCK! I want him so much. Reader is literally me. lol Anywho, I wrote the end of this chapter like half asleep, just now. And I’m too tired to even worry about going back to proof it and I wanted to share it with y’all now instead of making you wait until tomorrow so, here it is. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT REPOST my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Kissing Thor is noisy. Mainly because he likes to really kiss you. His lips smoosh against your own until he’s delving into your mouth with his tongue. You’re so eager to reciprocate the affection that you greet him willingly. Your own tongue swirling around his own.

You’re hit with the salty tang of the olives from his sandwich, a spicy bite to the flavor from the jalapeños.

He kisses you slow, making it last minutes. He makes you dizzy and your heart seems to be perpetually pounding since last night.

The water sloshes around both your bodies as he reaches down to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you right up against him, breasts squished against his massive pecs.

He holds the side of your head, fingers strong and possessive as he tilts your head to explore you better.

When your breath is nothing but gasping, he pulls back with an audible smack. He leans in to kiss you twice more. Two quick pecks before he twists to his right and reaches for the large glass of wine he’d poured you.

Handing it to you, he fixes your hair before reaching to his left for a sandwich triangle. Roast and chicken, cheese, tomatoes, and mustard. You’re not even sure you like this food but when Thor holds the tip of the sandwich up to your lips you open up and take a bite.

Your mind is too preoccupied with the naked God before you to worry about the flavors in your mouth anymore. If it doesn’t immediately pertain to Thor, then you don’t have a mind for it right now.

He follows your bite with his own and replaces the sandwich on the tray still half full along with a bowl of olives and another of cheese cubes.

You lick your lips as you chew, watching his face for any shift that might hint at a change of mood.

Thor however hasn’t changed since this morning when you gave yourself to him completely. And he gave himself to you too.

Maybe it’s silly to think that way, that what happened between the two of you was anything more than sex, but it felt like it. Especially that first time.

He’d been so…there had been something about the look in his eyes, the way he touched you. So sweet and gentle. So loving.

Even now, his free hand finds the soft skin of your side and while you flinch at first, he knows to keep his hand there and after a moment you settle and are still again.

“Why do you pull away?” Thor had asked in the morning after that first time when he’d been laying with you, talking as his hand sought a spot on your side.

“I’m not pulling away.” You’d argued. “I’ve just never been touched there before by anyone but myself. It feels weird. Not exactly a tickling but close to it.”

Now he lets the surprise pass and caresses the spot once your body has moved on from the shock.

“You keep searching for something. What is it, cherub?” He reaches over to give your cheek a little pinch then throws his hand over the edge of the large bath you’d seen when you’d stolen a peek at his bathroom.

The water is steaming hot, such a comfort to your surprisingly sore body. You hadn’t realized how much your morning activities would stress it. What a work out!

Thor’s already frowned at the bruises he can see he’s left on you. You shut that down quickly. You liked the sex. You’re not about to give it up because he’s a little too strong.

Smart? Probably not. But you’re discovering a whole new side to yourself that you hadn’t known you could be. And the bruises are only on your hips, some on your ass.

You didn’t know that you could be desirable and seductive. Irresistible? Definitely not! But from the way Thor’s hands keep loving on your curves, you must at least be so to him, right? Even if it’s only in a physical, sexual way. It’s more than you ever thought you’d have.

“Nothing.” You swallow your food, tipping your glass against your lips to wash it down with a mouthful of wine.

Before you can say anything else, Thor mashes his lips to yours. His tongue takes a quick dip into your mouth before finishing his kiss with another peck.

“Mmm.” He hums, and you can’t help but laugh.

“What was that for?”

“You taste like raspberries.” He informs you, swiping his thumb across your lips.

“It’s the wine.”

Thor purses his lips, giving you a skeptical look as if you’re lying.

“Mmmmm, you sure?” He smiles, a big goofy grin you hadn’t seen yet.

The expression gives you such joy that you laugh, leaning against his chest as your body shakes with it.

Thor’s eyes are bright, happy, and he gladly dips his head down to kiss your lips as you pucker your lips up at him.

“Can this be real?” You wonder, staring up into his pretty face.

“Why do you think it isn’t? Shall I pinch you?” His hand tickles your side, grabbing gently.

You squirm and laugh, quickly grabbing his hand to stop his pinching.

“No!” You shake with your chuckling. “Stop.”

“I will if you tell me why you can’t believe this is reality.”

“I don’t know? Because it all feels too good to be true?” You turn around slowly, nestling into his lap, his arms wrapping themselves around you instantly as you lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder.

He kisses your cheek, then rests his own scratchy bearded cheek against your head.

“I mean, it was three days ago that I was sitting in my house, completely alone and would have probably stayed that way until I died. I’ve never felt any kind of interest for anyone before.”

“I’m sure someone would have come along and fallen in love with you. You’re very lovable, cherub. Otherwise, how could you feel so good where I have you?”

Your cheeks are burning hot. If someone held a wick to it, it would light and burn.

You laugh nervously, not believing a single word.

“It’s true.” Thor insists, squeezing you against his body. “If I’m completely honest, no one has ever felt this good before.”

“You just need the affection.” You scoff.

“No.” Thor refuses your thinking. “I like you.”

He drops his voice to a deep whisper. As he says those three words, it becomes thick and heavy. It means a lot. To you. To him. This is a significant moment, and he makes sure to steal your breath with his massive body curling around you from behind and that deep voice that likes to nestle in between your ribs and make it hot there.

“We’ve only just started,” he observes. “Imagine how I’ll feel in a month.”

He’s absolutely wicked with his charm, and you know you’re a lost cause to it. There’s no going back from this now.

“And I did like you, too. Even when I first came to see you. I can’t deny that. I think it’s pretty clear by now, how I feel. But I had no idea that it was to this extent. I didn’t know that I’d go from virgin to what happened today in the blink of an eye.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Thor asks, no fear in his voice but you can feel a tension in his arms.

“Nope. It isn’t.” You shake your head, turning to look at him but he’s so close.

His cheeks are a flushed pink bronze. You realize he’s blushing at your confession much like his made you all flustered too. He’s hot for sure, downright breathtaking, but you had no idea he could be this adorable too. Cute? He’s almost like a puppy in this moment. Sweet and lovable.

You can’t help yourself, so you just kiss his bearded chin, and he quickly turns to meet your lips with his own.

He relaxes, the affection calming him? You’re not sure. But that’s what it feels like and it plays into your theory that he’s been needing the physical reassurance.

You reach up behind his head, fingers delving into the short and wet strands of his hair as he reaches over and forces your head to turn more so that he can kiss you with passion again.

You whimper, his touch intoxicating.

In response to your own sounds of enjoyment, Thor utters a small groan. Slowly he pushes you up, rises, and spins with you until your back is to the edge of the bathing pool. He turns you around, then with kisses to the center of your back to nudge you forward, he guides you into bending over with your chest pressed against the warm edge of the bath. He bends over you completely and pulls you into another passionate kiss, holding your face towards his by grabbing your chin.

Gently he nudges your legs open with his knee and before you can prepare yourself fully, he’s inside you, curling his hips around your bum as he plunges himself deeper.

You break the kiss to gasp with pleasure, the sensation growing on you more and more. As he cups your breasts, you lay your head down and reaching back to hook your hand around his bottom, pulling him towards you when he thrusts making him groan with excitement as he picks up the pace.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s moaning underneath you. A dramatic, overexaggerated, completely ridiculous display meant only for you as you card your hands through his drying hair. He has his head in your lap, shirtless form with only a baggy pair of black sweats keeping his manly bits private. For you, his face is upside down. But that doesn’t make him any less handsome.

You’re sitting with your back against the headrest, chuckling at the look on his face and the stupid sounds he’s making for your benefit.

“Stop making those noises!” You laugh, “It doesn’t sound right.”

“Or does it sound just right?”

You chuckle continuously, scratching his scalp lightly and his mouth genuinely falls open.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

Silly man.

“Are we going to spend the rest of the day in bed?” You wonder, not minding the idea one bit.

He mumbles something indistinct. Maybe nonsense? You’re not sure. But you laugh again.

“What?”

“Please, don’t stop.” He begs.

You lapse into silence, letting this blissful moment stretch on until your mind starts to wander.

You’ve realized that the affection he’s after isn’t just that, but he’s also touch starved.

You are too, but that makes sense. You’ve been single your whole life.

It’s weird for him. He’s been with Jane for a while. Why does it feel like these displays of affection from you are something he’s been yearning for? Maybe not from you specifically, but the touch is welcomed. Eagerly.

“Can I ask you something?” You keep stroking his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp in small circles.

“Mmmmmmm…” He looks like he might fall asleep, his one blue eye shut.

“I know you said that you picked me because of what I told you my ideal marriage was like. Is this part of a marriage important for you? Physical affection? Is that what you liked about the description I gave you?” You reach down to stroke his cheek, loving the feel of his beard against your skin.

Thor opens his eye, staring up at you with a torn expression. What does it mean?

“I liked the image you painted of us.” He reaches up, caressing the back of your neck. “I should be more honest with you.”

Fuck. Is it bad news?

“Truth is, Jane and I haven’t really been together for about half a year. We hadn’t broken up officially or anything. And it isn’t so much that we haven’t seen each other just because we’re busy but we haven’t tried to see each other.

“If we had tried a little harder, I think we could have still kept things going for a bit longer, but…” He doesn’t finish his thought and instead leaves you to wonder if maybe Jane didn’t want to try? Or maybe he didn’t want to? Which is silly because he’s been holding out for her.

It’s what almost ruined your opinion of him.

“But you still love each other?” You’re confused, his love for her is so obvious.

“Many people who love each other drift apart. If both parties are not willing to keep the relationship going, even the strongest love can be inconsequential.”

His eye is trained on the ceiling above, a beautiful ornate wooden design carved by Asgardian artisans. He’s lost in thoughts. Depressing ones it looks like.

You don’t like the idea of him being unhappy. It stings a little on a personal level too to know that it’s because of his pining for an ex-love.

But you want him to know that you’ve heard him. You understand his feelings as best as you can.

“I’m sorry she doesn’t know what she’s losing.” You mean it too.

Jane is losing out on such a beautiful soul. Alien or not, Thor is entrancing.

You can’t picture your life without Thor now. Even if your feelings are still growing and nowhere near where his and Jane’s are for each other, the idea of never feeling his kiss again, his weight on you? It’s unbearable to think about.

He told you he likes you! That means something, right?

He’s also so sweet and funny. He really is a dream. If he hadn’t propositioned you during that first meeting of feigning your marriage, he’d be perfect. But no one can be perfect and you’re pretty sure he must have been desperate as hell at the time.

“But maybe I should write her a thank you note?” You place your hands on both sides of his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “If she had agreed to marry you, I wouldn’t be here. And I’m so…so lucky to be here, Thor.”

You sigh heavily, having been thinking about this since your bath at noon.

“I thought I was going to be married to someone who wouldn’t care about me.” You confess. “I thought I was doomed to living a life without real feeling. But what we have…it isn’t normal, right? This kind of connection isn’t common?”

You could be wrong. This isn’t something you’re knowledgeable about. Not even a little bit.

“No. It’s not.” Thor agrees, reaching up to hook his hand around the back of your neck, a gentle squeeze to emphasize his words.

“We’re lucky, Thor.” You nod, smiling hopefully because for the first time since all of this craziness began, you can see the life you’d imagined for your ideal marriage as a true possibility.

There might be more to it. It’s not just a marriage, but a duty. You’ll be Queen and Thor is already King. There’s going to be more than days like this with him. There’ll be obligations and maybe even things that you won’t want to do.

Days like this will make it worth it.

Thor smiles at you, his body relaxed again after getting things off his chest.

“We’re lucky.” He agrees and pulls you down until he can kiss you.

Upside down, the kiss is a little strange. You huff a laugh against his lips until he reaches up to take hold of your head and tilt it to the side so that he can silence you with a deeper kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, I’m here.” Thor announces, strutting into his war room on the second floor.

It’s a simple room, large as it is. Round like his bedroom, with no windows. There’s a doorway to the right on the far end that leads to a small tower hidden among the various roofs of the palace. That’s his strategic viewpoint. That’s where he can see invaders if invaders are stupid enough to try and come here.

“You’re late.” Loki says, off-hand, not paying attention. He's focused on what’s before him. Busy.

There’s no urgency in his voice so Thor stops just inside the door, hands finding his hips as he stands there staring at his brother.

The silence is almost endless until Loki looks up and does a double take at the sight of Thor standing there wearing a pair of baggy black sweats and a ratty old gray shirt. It’s clean. Just full of frays and tears.

“I see we’ve completely given up.” Loki observes. “One day with your fiancé and you think you can relax and walk around looking like an Earth frat boy?”

“How do you know what a frat boy is?”

“I’ve been on Earth longer than you have I think.” Loki scoffs. “I had to scope out the planet before I tried to take it over, remember?”

“That’s not something I would go around bragging about, brother. The people of Earth might not realize you’ve changed.” Thor finally moves in further, sitting himself down on the large throne-like seat at the head of a very large round table that doubles as a battle map.

This is what Loki had been focused on.

As he sits back, relaxing in his comfy chair, he sighs heavily. Happily. Hands resting on his stomach as he stares at the table, zoning out with thoughts of the copious amount of times he’d made love to you today.

Loki’s continued silence begins to draw his attention and he turns to look at him only to find him with narrowed and suspicious eyes.

“What did you do?” Loki demands, “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?”

“Hm? Nothing. I did nothing.” Thor assures him, sitting up a little straighter and clearing his throat.

Loki knows him too well. The way Thor spreads his legs, wide apart as he claims the room as his own with his mere presence. There are only two reasons his brother takes that posture.

“I know you, Thor. You’ve either defeated an enemy in battle within the last few hours of the day—which is clearly impossible since you’ve been holed up in your bedroom this entire time. Or you’ve gone and bedded some woman until you’re entirely spent.”

Thor clears his throat, avoiding his brother’s eyes.

“Thor,” He already sounds upset. “I thought you were going to wait until you were married to her?”

His demanding tone, the upset brings a sense of slight shame to Thor’s beautiful memories of the day.

Quickly he wipes that away. It was a day well spent, growing closer to you and forming a bond that will help you both in your marriage.

“We were supposed to!” Thor argues.

“How could you bed her two days before the wedding?”

“She asked me to!” Thor counters, getting to his feet as he gestures towards the door with both hands flat, palms up.

“As if I’d believe that.” Loki frowns.

“She did! I swear to you, I tried to refuse her.”

“Not very hard, I imagine.” Loki scoffs.

“Loki, the last thing that I want to do is take advantage of Y/N. She’s honest and true. She doesn’t play games and she’s up front about what she wants. She told me that she wanted to be with me because she felt it was right, not because she was required to in order to consummate our marriage.

“And honestly, I’m glad that we did it. Not only do I know now that she and I are compatible in that way, but it meant more for her to do so willingly. I wasn’t exactly eager to bed her knowing that she was only doing it because it was something she was obligated to do either. We were both of one mind on that front.”

Loki’s eyes are sharp, trained on Thor as he explains himself and crosses the room to a small table against the right curved wall to pour himself a glass of ale. He’s able to see that Thor is not lying. Everything he just said is the truth. And while he worries about you and Thor too, he can see that this is probably for the best.

He thinks about it as Thor drinks, then accepts this new phase of your courtship.

“Well, I suppose it’s never too early to start working for that heir.”

Thor sputters on his drink, coughing and gasping.

He thumps his chest, turning to Loki as he zones out again with thoughts of the copious amount of times he’d made love to you today, and each and every time he released within you.

True, you and he would have had to start on an heir quickly. It’s what the people want, as well as the Ambassadors for Earth. They want tangible ties to the human race.

Still, Thor’s heart begins to pound at the idea of your belly swelling with his babe.

It’s not an unpleasant thought. In fact, the more he pictures it, the more he likes it.

Because he’s an idiot, he tries to picture Jane like that too.

They’d never even discussed children.

Jane had been focused on her work and Thor had been too happy to step aside and wait for her to be ready.

He finds he can’t picture Jane the way he can picture you, sweet smile caressing your belly as you look up to meet his eye. Smile widening before you reach out towards him, “Come feel, he’s kicking.”

His imagination is surprisingly vivid and his heart swells.

“A head start on siring an heir isn’t a bad idea. You should spend tomorrow doing the same.” Loki suggests.

Thor reaches up to rub along his chest, right over his heart as that feeling of fullness keeps growing.

“Aye,” Thor agrees, but his words are a whisper to himself. “I think I just might.”

“What?” Loki asks, Thor too quiet for him to hear.

“Nothing. What was the threat you wanted to speak of?” Thor moves back to his seat, but rather than take it, he stands, staring at the simple map of Earth.

Loki isn’t looking at the map, however. He’s got what looks like a silver bowl on top of it, a glistening silver liquid within.

“A window.” Thor realizes.

“Just a small one.” Loki nods, staring intently at the serene liquid.

“What do you see?”

Thor only sees the silver liquid.

“Stirrings. They’re quiet, and only shadows for the time being. I sense Jotunheim.” Loki murmurs darkly.

“Laufey?” The worry is heavy on his mind now, nothing but this threat matters to Thor. In this moment, he’s got one thing on his mind.

“Perhaps.” Loki nods.

“But you killed him. Didn’t you? You saved father and mother. Another trick, brother?” Thor spits, almost angry. Mostly just suspicious.

“No.” Loki insists, giving his brother a frown. “Not on my side. I thought he was dead. I’m not sure if it’s him but it feels like Laufey.”

“What does this mean?”

“I’m not sure yet, Thor. As I said, it’s only a stirring. I’ll have to keep watch.”

“Have you shared this with the guard? Brunnhilde? Sif?” Thor asks.

“Yes.” Loki nods, waving his hand over the silver. “Sif has gone to hurry the Warrior’s Three back in case something should come before the wedding. Don’t worry, brother. As soon as I have more information, I will come to you.”

With a heavy sigh, Thor crosses his bulging arms over his hardened chest. Now his mind is preoccupied. Worries begin to grow. The safety of his people first and foremost.

They don’t have the armor or weapons to defend the city much less the surrounding human cities in the area. If the Jotunn should rise again, their wrath would not stop with New Asgard.

“Thor?”

“Hm?” He’s still mostly distracted, out of it as his mind races to plan ahead for all contingencies.

“Don’t you have a pretty future Queen of Asgard waiting in your bedroom? Did you not have something to do?”

Thor’s gaze eventually wanders over to Loki. He understands he should say something, so he nods. “Right, of course. Right. Keep me posted.”

He walks around him, through the door and back up to his floor. At the end of the hall he sees the light seeping through the bottom of the door. The warm glow of the lit fire.

Moving towards it, he doesn’t see it or the comforts it promises. He can only see the thousands of faces of his people, looking to him for guidance and reassurance. Their safety is in his hands. He can fight for days, weeks without stopping if he has to in order to protect those under his care, but he’s one man. How will he protect them all?

He can’t be there to block every blow.

The weight of his crown is heavy, feet falling heavy against the wooden floor.

A fear begins to bubble up in his chest, shifting and squirming, making him feel sick to his stomach. His hand shakes as he reaches out to take hold of the handle to his door. As he takes it, he squeezes harder than he means to and the metal groans beneath his grip.

When he pushes the door open, a wave of warmth washes over him, pulling him out of the grip of the cool hallway air.

He hears a groan from his desk chair.

Searching for it, he spots you sitting with your back twisted as you hold to the arm, turning to face him.

It’s the sight of you that clears his head and steadies his heart.

Sitting there with in his pink sweater again, this time a pair of thick wool socks on your feet. One is scrunched around your ankles, the other holding firm to your lovely, well explored calf.

You take his breath away as you smile at him, your eyes searching his face. Your pretty smile falters, a scrunch between your eyes as notice his distress.

“Is everything okay?” You ask him, the laptop behind you abandoned mid-sentence on whatever work you’re writing.

He stops by the door. It shuts behind him. You stand up and Thor’s mind is bathed with the delicious image of you again, belly swollen with his child.

This time you’re not smiling and beckoning him for a feel of a kick. Instead, you’re standing before him, your hands resting against that belly, your face twisted in honest concern.

This time he doesn’t have to imagine what you would say because you open your mouth now and say, “C-Can I help? Thor? What can I do?”

Nothing.

You can do absolutely nothing if a Jotunn army comes to freeze the Earth over. Their cradle is gone but their power comes from magic. Magic in their blood. And they’re strong enough to do damage without the cradle.

So, even though you ask, and he knows that the answer is nothing, just the fact that you ask. That adorable little crinkle between your eyes.

His mind returns and in three long strides he’s got you up in his arms. He kisses you hard, overcome with gratitude and that image in his head of you pregnant both smiling and worried. It’s too much for him and how can he show you how much your offer means to him?

How can he show you that your own strife over his feelings for Jane is unnecessary?

The only way he can think of in this moment is without words. With his hands and his lips and his body.

“Mm.” You mumble, resisting. You push yourself back a bit and Thor lets you get away but keeps you held against his body; your legs wrapped around his waist. “Thor, what’s wrong?”

Your hands are so gentle against his cheeks, caressing his beard, stroking it as if the feel of it brings you pleasure.

He pushes forward, past your little grip and buries his face against the side of your neck.

You smell like rosewater. And something else. Something just you. You’ve taken another bath in his absence. He can’t blame you after all of the loving he’s given you today.

Without another query you wrap your arms around his shoulders, one hand making soothing circles between his shoulder blades, the other on the back of his head in a supportive caress.

Thor is absolutely melting from all this affection you’re giving him.

How had he survived without it?

How had he gone so hard for so long and only now realized that he’d been waiting to exhale.

Here in your arms, he can breathe finally. Even though the weight of Asgard is on his shoulders, and the weight of the Earth and the nine realms too, with you here holding him up he can take solace for a bit.

He carries you back to the bed, sits on the edge, and you readjust your legs so that you can keep them on either side of him but hold yourself up a bit more steadily. Thor loves the way you seem to flow with his movements. You respond and he adjusts for you too.

After what feels like an hour, he pulls back to look up at your beautiful face.

“Where have you been all of my life?” He whispers, voice choked from the breath he’d finally breathed.

“I’m here now.” You nod, “And I won’t go anywhere unless you want me to.”

Thor scoffs at the idea, such a completely stupid and ridiculous thought for you to have because he cannot possibly exist without you in his life now.

He realizes it now more than before. The sex had been fantastic. Much needed. The intimacy welcomed and yearned for, though not exactly from you until you gave it and he realized that it was exactly your type of intimacy he’d been looking for.

There’s something more to what you can give him. More to what you’re already providing him with.

To his great pleasure, and he hopes to yours too, there’s one more thing he needs from you. Something that he hopes you’re willing to give.

“Let’s make a babe.” He says, and he can see your breath hitch.

The way he can see your mind go blank and fuzzy and then try to process what he’s just said is endearing. You’re always so shocked by his displays of attachment.

He can’t exactly blame you. It’s only been three days. Still, he’s felt more in these three days than he has over years with anyone else.

This feels so close to love, he’s almost certain that for him it already is. But he’ll hold off telling you until he’s completely sure. He meant what he told Hilde and Loki. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

Not ever.

“Wh-what?” You finally stutter, your lips shaking as you speak.

He smiles, reaches up to trace your bottom one with his thumb and they part for him, a response no doubt curated by the many situations he’s placed you in today. Every touch had been a request to come closer and every time you’d opened up for him.

“We’ll have to have one eventually. Soon, too. The Ambassadors will want a human Asgardian heir as soon as possible to make sure that I’ll have a reason to protect the human species as much as my own.

“But mostly I really just want to see you heavy with my child, cherub. We’ll make many little angels together. Sooner, rather than later.” Thor hooks his hand behind your neck, giving it a squeeze as he pulls you towards his lips.

You pucker up instantly the closer you get, your eyes peeled however, trained on his own electric blue as if you’re waiting for him to say it’s a joke.

He gives you a peck, just reassurance for you.

“You do?” You breathe, airy and short.

“I do. Let me make you a true mother of Asgard.” He whispers, and he can see your skin pimple. He reaches down to run his hand up along your arm, only making the goosebumps more pronounced as he tries to soothe them.

Thor can see you struggling to find the words. It doesn’t look like a negative thing.

He brings his hands down to our thighs, running them up to push the sweater you’re wearing up a bit until his fingers find the crease of your bent legs just below your hips. He tickles you there and you squirm, accidentally rubbing up against him just right.

“Let me fill you up, my sweet, sweet cherub.” He gushes, hoping it’s not coercion he’s inflicting and hopefully just reassurance. “I want you to the be the mother of my children. Only you.”

And then you pounce.

Thor is taken aback by the weight you throw on him, the flurry to get his pants down and his shirt yanked up over his head. He traces your sides, fingers dragging across your skin slowly which only seems to drive you crazier.

You kiss him hard at first, then after a minute, it softens.

You pull back to look down at him and Thor tries to read that look in your eyes. He tries to understand the resolve there, the grit he can see.

Then you’re kissing him again, these electric fire kisses that seem to make the world around him blur until all he can see, feel, hear, or care about is you and your body and pulling those little chuckles from you in the middle of your romp because the way your voice suddenly shifts into a moan from the happy sound drives him wild and all he wants to do is make you call his name.

What is this intoxication he has with you? That apple taste of you, so much like ale, draws him in and there’s no escaping you now. You’re his, and he can see in your eyes that he is truly yours.

Willingly he gives himself up to you. All thoughts of Jane driven from his mind because how can anyone compare to this draw of you? This perfection?

“Oh, Thor…” You whimper, his hands pulling you slowly against his hips as he pushes himself up with his other arm.

He hits you deep, stretching you wide as he stuffs you with his cock. Your hand is tight around his shoulder, nails digging hard as you bite your lip and muffle your moan.

“No…” He pulls you to him, sitting up then standing up and taking you with him. He turns around then with you falls to the bed. “…no. Let me hear you. I wanna hear you.”

He thrusts in deeper and you cry out loud, legs wrapping around his waist to yank him closer.

“Like that.” Thor whispers, approving of the sound you just made.

He thrusts again and it’s breathier, but still a cry and anyone in the palace will know that he’s made you his, body and soon soul too.

Will he ever tire of your body? Will he ever tire of these sighs and moans?

He doesn’t even need to ask because he knows.

Never.

[donutloverxo]

NO BUT LIKE CONCEPT: SMUT HC where mob!steve comes back from a rough night that leaves him very much outta it and ur the only one who can help him ... in more ways than one

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I'm making this a drabble cause I can't work with HCs. Thank you❤ Warmings -explicit sexual content, dom Steve, daddy kink, spanking, blood and wounds, bullets. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

You put some distance between your poor ear and your phone upon hearing your friends loud screech, excited since she saw your Instagram post of your new engagement ring.

"It is so beautiful! And so unconventional and unique too!"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, applying a second coat of your fiery red nail paint, to make it more intense, you just knew it'd look amazing against Steve's pale skin, he absolutely loved it when you scratched him and were a bit rough with him.

You never gave him any pointers on what kind of engagement ring you'd like, only thing that was a bit too obvious - which you never actually needed to say - was that you loved shiny things. So he has gotten you a ring with a huge sapphire ruby and tiny sparkly diamonds adorning the band. It was everything you needed and more.

"Makes sense because our relationship is anything but conventional." Where he had never directly said that his job involved a few things that were kind of, sort of, illegal but you weren't an idiot, it didn't take you long to figure out.

You knew he was important and rich when he asked you out, not just because he wore fancy clothes, but the way he carried himself, tall and proud and an aura that dominated any room he was in, two bodyguards always around him, and when you both started getting serious he assigned Peter, who was sort of an intern or newbie from what you gathered, to always escort you places and take care of you.

Maybe it wasn't exactly the most rational thing to do - marrying someone who was as feared as he was respected - but all you knew was that he was a good man and you had faith in him, so you stayed away from that part of his life.

"You must be planning the wedding now," she beamed over the phone.

You scoffed, blowing on your fingers, "No, he's always at work these days. It's so annoying, if it doesn't change then I'm leaving and taking the ring with me."

You looked at it sparkling on your finger, it was too beautiful to part with. Besides it became yours as soon as he gave it to you.

"You're late, but there's nothing new about that," you puffed out your cheeks, hands crosses under your chest, as he loosened his tie and worked on taking off his shoes. He had been coming home past midnight for the last month, enough was enough!

"Doll," he groaned, looking at you and ready to tell you off and ask for some space, but then he saw you. In a satin babydoll that barely covered you, with lace trimmings that did nothing to hide your soft nipples, your toes and nails painted just the color he liked, and you were wearing those ridiculous fluffy slippers with bunny ears that he had grown to love.

His mouth opened and then shut like a damn goldfish, forgetting what he was about to tell you.

"Steven," you furrowed your brows.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as you called out his full name. "Yeah?"

"When are we going to discuss the wedding?"

"I'm sorry, doll, work has been hectic these days. But soon."

"Soon? Soon doesn't do it for me," jutting your hip and leaning against the door to your walk in closet, "I need an exact date."

"I can't give it to you right now, puppy," his jaw clenching as you rolled your eyes, "Watch yourself, sweetheart. I had a long day, you don't wanna get on my bad side today."

"You shouldn't have put a rock on it if you didn't intend on marrying me," rolling your eyes extra hard just to get on his nerves.

"I do want to marry you. But right now... you're sort of making me have second thoughts."

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Because you looked about ready to smack him.

"Fine then. I guess I'll leave and go live with my mother from now on. She would be happy for sure, she isn't too thrilled about our engage - " you stopped your rant as soon as you noticed crimson seeping through his crisp white undershirt as he took off his coat.

Your eyes as wide as saucers, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest and you could feel your eyes getting watery. You weren't handing out empty threats, you were definitely serious about leaving. Just to remind Steve of just how much he loves you.

It wouldn't be the first time. You had done it once before, when you went back to live at your apartment because he yelled at you for going out with your girlfriends without Peter. You didn't need a babysitter, especially not one who was several years younger than you. You had gathered up your things from Steve's penthouse and went home with a heavy heart. You loved him with all your heart, but there was no way you could make it work with someone who was that controlling and mean to you.

But he came to you, literally got on his knees to apologize and to beg for you to take him back. He even made you give up your apartment and got you a bigger house for you both to live in. Just so you couldn't take off ever again.

"Steve... your bleeding..." you said as you held back a sob. Any anger you had towards him was now gone.

"Oh, shit," he looked down to his side, "Must've ruptured the stitch or something..."

You walked over to him, holding onto his waist and looking up at him, trying not to look at his wound. You weren't that squimish around blood, it rarely ever bothered you, but this was your Stevie, and he was hurt. "What happened?"

"Its... It's nothing, doll. It was an accident."

"Yeah, I guess you slipped and fell on a bullet," you huffed.

"No, the bullet barely grazed me. And you know I don't like talking about those things with you."

"Why? I'm not stupid or weak, I have a right to know."

"Of course, not, puppy. You're my sweet, strong, smart girl," he cooed, bending a bit to peck your lips and then groaning. "Gotta, be careful with this," he said as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so strong and smart then tell me what happened," you asked as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You didn't stop to marvel at his huge and perfect body like you always do, you looked at the fresh batch on stitches right over his hips.

"No, puppy. You're too good for that world, too good for me," he groaned as he sat down on the little pink couch he had put in the closet for you. Since you spent hours trying to pick outfits, he didn't want you standing too long and hurting your feet.

"Fine then don't tell me," you whimpered, rubbing your tears off with the back of your hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere," he tried to pull you into his lap, usually he wouldn't even have to ask for you sit on it, but right now you were pulling away and refusing for some reason, "C'mere, doll," he almost whined. Not used to being told no by you anymore than you were by him.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you," you hiccuped, as your sobs started to calm down.

"You wouldn't. You could never hurt me. C'mere I wanna cuddle you and make you feel better," he tried to pull you into him again but you just shook your head.

"I should be the one making you better. Not the other way around. But I don't know how to..." you swayed from side to side, suddenly ashamed of your brash behavior from earlier. "I'm sorry, I was being such a brat earlier."

"It's okay, puppy. I forgive you. You were right, we need to fix a date and find a venue and get you a pretty dress. I wanna see you in one of those poffy gowns, like a princess."

"That's called a ballgown," you said proudly, having done your research now. You knew all about the styles of the gowns, sleeves, necklines, colors and everything. "And you're not going to be involved in dress shopping process. Grooms aren't supposed to see the dress before the wedding it's bad luck."

He hummed at that, a bit disappointed but he would eventually see it, and then take it off, so it wasn't a huge loss. "Yes, you're right. But, let's not forget, you were a bad girl."

You gasped incredulously, "Well, you were being a bad fiance!" Which earned you a swift smack to your backside, making you yelp and fall forward, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I didn't mind you calling me out for that. I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything. But you threatened to leave me, again."

You pouted. Offended for being called out so blatantly. Yeah you always made empty threats, packed up your bags just for show, whenever you didn't get your way. Never considering his feelings when yours were hurt.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it. But I'll have to teach you your lesson. Just so you know better next time."

You nodded your head, which made him spank you once more, "Yes, daddy!"

"Good. How many do you think you deserve?"

"Um... Fifteen. Ten for threatening to leave, and five for giving you attitude."

"See, you're so smart. I'll punish you tomorrow though. I'm tired right now," he groaned as he sat back against the couch, squeezing your hips and admiring your figure, showing through the thin material of your nightie.

"Um, daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Is there anyway I can make you feel better right now?"

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss. You didn't give me one this morning when I left, or when I came back."

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But I also wanted to do more..." you murmured, your face burned hot as you realised that Steve was going to make you say what you wanted to do.

"Like what?"

"Like, take your cock down my throat. Would that make you feel better? I'll try and be careful about your stitches." Truth be told you missed being intimate with him, you needed it as much as he did.

"It definitely would make me feel better. But I want to have you close to me," he stroked the inside of your thighs, hands dangerously close to your cunt, "Why don't you, come ride my cock. Just like I taught you, hm?"

"But - what if I hurt you..." you whined. But he wasn't having any of it, rolling your panties down your legs.

"You wouldn't, puppy, come on we'll be careful. Be quick."

You gave him a meek nod, unzipping him with shaky fingers, giving his glorious cock a couple of pumps before straddling his lap. You made sure to not put any pressure on his lap. Lining his cock up to your pussy with your hands wrapped around his neck, you slowly sanked down on him.

First giving him a nice and thorough kiss to make him for not kissing him goodbye or welcome home like you always do. "I feel so full," you say against his lips.

He hummed, squeezing your ass, "I was made for you, angel. As you were for me." He slid the straps of your nightie down your arms, exposing your breasts to him. He made sure to shower them with all his lips, sucking, kissing and biting and pulling with his mouth. You were making the sweetest of noises, trying to keep your moans in as he helped you bounce on his cock by holding onto your hips.

"You're doing so good. Being such a good girl for me. My sweet, best girl," he cooed, kissing your forehead, he knew how you were still vulnerable to be on top.

"Am I making you feel better, daddy?" you sniffled, his cock hiting you in all the right places, making it impossible for you to keep going and hold off your climax.

"I'm all better already, thanks to you, puppy."

[bitchassbucky]

Highway 63 (Almost-there 2K writing challenge)

On a dusty stretch of highway that connects two cities, a few aged establishments have made themselves part of the land. They say that some days you wouldn’t find anything but boarded-up buildings and old “Do Not Trespass” signs but there will be nights where people find themselves mingling with the patrons. You have to visit on a warm summer night, though. When the moon is shining and the air is light.

There, you would find a Bar that attracts all kinds of people—city folks, locals, people who wanted to disappear amongst the crowd of faces. The building reeks of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor and yet they see groups of people coming in and out, trying to grab a fix of their favorite sin.

Weary travelers often find themselves checking into the Motel, just a few hundred steps away from the infamous Bar. Some rooms are occupied, some things go bump in the night. It makes a decent stopover rather than sleeping in your car.

Patrons love to rave about the Diner near the Motel. The food tastes like home! they say. The booths are aged and yellow, the buzzing overhead lights are dusty and yet it feels familiar—even if it was your first time here.

Venturing further down the road, you’ll find a dilapidated barn. Nature is on its way reclaiming rotten wood posts and rickety doors. Rumors of ghost and unfriendly souls keeps the walls intact; the rusted tractor sits idle on the side.

If you’re lucky, you’ll find yourself driving down the stretch—catching glimpse of faces you’d never see again. The Motel would’ve had its no vacancy sign up, the Bar would be full of people dancing, the beats spilling onto the street. The Diner would’ve been serving pancakes, chicken, and waffles. Pass by the Barn, maybe you’ll see the vines crawling and waving onto the posts.

If you’re luckier, a postcard would be stuck on your windshield, “Welcome to Highway 63!” it would say. Would you take it as an invitation?

—

Welcome to Bitchassbucky’s almost-there 2K writing challenge! With my blog turning 3 years old this June, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been there since day one. I made lots of friends throughout the years, I even found a bunch of people that I would call my family too.

I’ve decided to take a little break from writing, just until I can find my traction again. Don’t worry, I will be coming back! Hopefully, a better writer.

Anyway, I just really want to thank you for the laughs, for the ugly cries, for the rage, for the keysmashes, and everything in between. You’re always in my heart.

Enough sentiments, let’s get down to business.

Guidelines:

🟪 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. You are responsible for your own media consumption. We don’t exist to babysit you.

🟪 Send me an ask (with your @ if you’re on anon) with the prompt you’d like to take.

🟪 All stories should take place in the Bar, the Motel, the Diner, the Barn, or along the road. Welcome to Highway 63.

🟪 No minimum word count! If your entry goes beyond 500 words, please use the read more tool. All forms of content is welcome: moodboards, playlists, drabbles, one-shots, series, headcanons, etc. are counted as a valid entry.

🟪 To send an entry, mention me @bitchassbucky and @bitchassbucky-afterdark and use the Welcome to Highway 63 tag.

🟪 Marvel/MCU characters are very much preferred. Let me know if you want to write for another character.

🟪 Maximum of two people can take a prompt.

🟪 Warnings, warnings, warnings. Tag your fics appropriately. Dark (noncon, dubcon, etc.) fics are very much welcomed, just tag it. No cross-tagging too.

🟪 NO DEADLINE, we all hate deadlines. KEEP IT COMIN’, FOLKS.

🟪 Hard no-no’s: bathroom play, blood-incest, underage pairings.

🟪 No RPFs (Real Person Fics). Reader inserts or character/character only. OCs are welcomed!

🟪 Let’s keep all entries inclusive, please!

🟪 DO NOT REPOST WORKS OF OTHER PEOPLE.

Prompts under the cut!

Song prompts

You're Gonna Go Far, Kid by The Offspring

Bad To The Bone by George Thorogood

Don't Stop Me Now by Queen

Girls on Film by Duran Duran ( @belladonnabarnes )

Highway to Hell by AC/DC

Precious Love by James Morrison

Sugar for the Pill by Slowdive

Everybody Talks by Neon Trees ( @blackberrybucky for Bucky)

The Boy from NYC by The Ad Libs

Knock On Wood by Amii Stewart

How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) by Marvin Gaye ( @buckyblues for Bucky)

MONTERO (Call Me By My Name) by Lil Nas X

Streets by Doja Cat (@luxeavenger)

Tokyo Love Hotel by Rina Sawayama

Lover Boy by Phum Viphurit

Nobody by Mitski

Take Me To Church by MILCK

Curious by Hayley Kiyoko

Line prompts

"Are you sure we're supposed to be here?" // "Are we even allowed in here?" ( @vibraniumqueen for Bucky)

"The GPS fucked up, didn't it?" ( @phant0m-queen for Bucky) ( @uncensored-steve-the-platypus for Steve)

"Drive slower!"

"Not bad [name], not bad."

"Can you shut the fuck up for just one second?!" ( @whoth3hellisbucky for Bucky)

"What did you do?"

"You don't deserve to know me like this."

"Oh, fuck."

"Do you want any advice?" / "If it's from you, then no."

"If you're reading this, I'm dead." ( @buckycuddlebuddy for Bucky)

"Close your eyes, I wanna surprise you." ( @lokiscollar for Bucky) (@drysdale-barnes for Bucky)

"What are you doing here?" / "What are YOU doing HERE?"

"Are you following me?"

"I'm gonna need a drink." (@fuckandfluff for Bucky)

"Keep walking. Just keep walking."

"Hey, I think I saw something back there."

"Come with me!"

"Hand me the car jack."

"We're in Bumfuck, Middle of Nowhere, what do you think?!"

Trope and AU prompts

Biker AU (very on-the-nose, eh?) ( @mxsamwilson for Bucky) ( @thefallenbibliophilequote for a series)

Rom-com AU

College AU ( @babyboibucky for College!Bucky)

Vacation/road trip AU

Band AU ( @hey-its-grey )

Mob/Gang/Criminals AU ( @buckycuddlebuddy for Bucky) ( @xbuchananbarnes for Sam)

Spies AU

Stalker AU

Dystopian AU

Fuck buddies/friends-with-benefits trope ( @whoth3hellisbucky for Bucky)

Found family trope

Mutual pining trope

Idiot x Dumbass trope ( @vibraniumqueen for Bucky)

Amnesia trope

Unreciprocated feelings trope ( @buckyblues for Bucky)

Lovers-to-friends trope

Friends-to-lovers trope

Enjoy yourself and I’ll see you around.

[troubatrain]

four times matthew was a fuckboy + one time he wasn’t

a/n: a repost from my old blog!

I.

You didn’t hate Matthew Tkachuk. Hate is a strong word and you were too polite to hate anyone. But you definitely weren’t keen on the new company your friend had been keeping since she started seeing Matthew’s teammate, Noah. You were just different. You liked safety and rules, and Matthew put most of his energy into breaking every rule possible. He was a rat, and he didn’t give a damn who knew. You were a romantic, and you’d watch Matthew take a different girl home frequently, and you could only imagine what he was like on the road. He was a straight up fuckboy, and you’d just prefer to be as far away from him as possible. Besides the strong differences between each other, you really didn’t hate him - until, maybe, right now.

“I would never date Y/N,” Matthew scoffs at your best friend, Hannah, “She’s got a stick up her ass, all the time.” “I don’t have a stick up my ass Matthew,” You bark back, “You’re just a shitty person, and I don’t want to date you either.”

“Why? Am I not your type?” Matthew snarks back, “I’m everyone’s type.”

“No Matthew, egotistical professional athletes who don’t know anything besides hit and skate aren’t my type,” You say, “Hold an intellectual conversation with anyone and I’ll be impressed.”

“You know what, forget I mentioned it,” Hannah tries to interfere, but the way Matthew’s blue eyes were narrowed at you, his nostrils flaring out just a little bit meant it was too late and you were well on your way to spending the rest of the night arguing with Matthew.

“I don’t need to hold bullshit intellectual conversations to get laid Y/N,” Matthew grumbles, “I’m sure that’s only what terrible guys you probably date do.”

“I don’t date terrible guys,” You defend, but deep down, he was actually right about that. You were nearing the end of six months of being single since your last relationship ended and dating wasn’t going - well.

“Oh, I forgot, you probably only date boring guys,” Matthew huffs, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find someone who isn’t boring.”

Matthew stomps away, looking back to give you one more smirk that made your skin crawl. You couldn’t stand his smug smile, or the fact that he constantly gave you grief for being a good person. Or the time he accused  you of thinking you were better than everyone because you were smarter than them. 

“I can’t believe there was a point in my life where I thought you guys could be friends,” Noah says, shaking his head at the verbal battle you and Matthew just had, “I thought I could set you guys up - to date.”

“Why do you all think that?” You ask, looking at your friend and her boyfriend with actual concern.

“I don’t know, you’re sweet and nice and he’s not,” Noah shrugs, “It’s kind of cute.”

“Yeah, like imagine if you were the one to tame him,” Hannah says, wrapping her arm around her boyfriend's bicep while he pressed a kiss to her head - a reminder that you didn’t have that. Your eyes move to Matthew at the bar, while a girl was under his arm in less than five minutes.

“I don’t think anyone’s taming that monster,” You say, pointing to the man in question.

II.

When the weekend finally came around, you found yourself in the same situation you were in the week before. Matthew gave you daggers across the table while Noah and Hannah tried to convince the two of you to put your differences aside and be friends. Except, you didn’t want to be friends with Matthew, because you knew exactly how he treated his “friends”. In the past week alone, you’d watched him while he escaped a morning after with someone who happened to live in your building. You had the worst morning of your life when you stepped on the elevator only to meet with the face of the devil himself. You halted, stepping into the elevator and shaking your head at Matthew - asking him if he was leaving or your worst nightmare of him moving into your building was happening. He told you he was escaping from a booty call, his words not yours, and then joked about moving in just to bother you. You started bickering in the elevator, and then it made you late for work. That snowballed into missing an important meeting and you were cursing Matthew internally for the rest of the day.

“I just don’t understand why you both keep pushing this,” you shout, gesturing between Matthew and yourself, “We are not friends.”

“Yeah, she’s right,” Matthew agrees, for the first time since you’d been introduced to each other.

“Why is that the only thing you’ve ever agreed on?” Hannah asks, looking sincerely concerned at the two of you.

“Because his opinions on everything else are terrible,” You say, walking over to the bar to go get yourself a drink. You can feel a large presence behind you and you turn around to be met with Matthew’s smug smile again, “You can’t just leave me alone.”

“I’m getting another drink, not everything is about you,” Matthew remarks, flagging down the bartender far easier than you could have. He orders you both a drink, and you decide to just take it - too tired to argue. While you were waiting you scanned the bar, only to spot your ex boyfriend across the bar.

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing Matthew’s attention.

“God what did I do now?” Matthew groans, and then he follows your eyes, “Do you know that guy?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s my ex,” You say, dropping your drink, “Can you tell Hannah I left.”

“Wait no-,” Matthew says, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer to him, “I’m going to leave after this, I’ll take an Uber with you.”

“Are you going to drop me off then go hook up with whoever lives in my building?” You ask, crossing your arms and looking at him.

“I’m going to get you home safely and whether or not I leave the building is none of your business,” Matthew argues back, his eyes flickering up to look behind you and a protective arm snakes around your waist.

“Is that Y/N?” You hear your ex’s familiar voice, and suddenly Matthew’s arm made more sense.

“Oh, Alex, hi,” You say, trying to ignore the burning sensation you felt under Matthew’s touch, but your anxiety about seeing your ex disappeared almost immediately, like with Matthew there nothing could hurt you.

“How are you?” Alex asks, “Is this your boyfriend? I didn’t think you’d move on after me.”

“Yeah,” Matthew cuts you off before you could deny it, “We were just heading out, you know we’ve got plans for the night.”

Matthew gave Alex a wink and a look that said not to fuck with him and grabbed your hand, pulling you out the bar. A part of you was pissed, like he’d just told your ex boyfriend that not only were you dating you were leaving your night out early to fuck. But a part you didn’t care about it, Alex was the worst, and even in that second he reminded you why you broke up in the first place, because he never stopped talking down to you.

“I can’t believe you dated someone who talks to you like that,” Matthew says, pulling out his phone to call an Uber, “Your taste in men is terrible.”

“Well he thinks I’m dating you, so my taste is terrible,” You say, sliding into the car once Matthew opens the door for you.

Matthew slides into the other side of the car, getting your Uber driving and asking him how his night is before turning to you, “Do you really think I’m that awful?”

Okay, yes, it was sweet that he protected you. Yes, it felt nice to have his arm around your waist. Yes, it was great to have your ex think you’re currently seeing a member of the Flames. Yes, it was nice that he’s taking you home. And yes, the way he spoke to the Uber driver when you got in was actually more polite than you assumed he was to strangers. But, none of that meant he was a decent human being - at least not to you.

“I mean you’ve never given me a reason to think otherwise,” You say, shrugging.

“I’ll give you a reason,” You heard him mutter, but his face said he didn’t want to talk about it, so you let it go until you rode up the elevator to your floor in silence.

“Hey Matthew,” You say, voice small, “Thanks for getting me home, and for before, I owe you one.”

“I don’t think you want to be indebted to me,” Matthew says, his signature smirk gracing his face.

“One favor, nothing sexual,” You wave your finger at him while the elevator closes, sending him to whoever he was meeting on a floor above you.

III. 

You were swearing off men. That was it. You were sitting in a restaurant in the city, in a dress that made you look straight up hot, across from someone who made Matthew look like a saint. Paul was a friend of one of your coworkers, who raved about her friend who was intelligent and kind. Intelligent, yes definitely. But kind? At the moment that seemed far fetched. He’d spent the entire dinner talking about himself, and when you finally got to talk about yourself, he was just condescending and rude. You’d suffered through dinner, declining his invitation home. You heard his hollers about much of a tease and how uptight you were. You walked home, on a mission to get home and pretend this date never happened. Then you’d pass a bar you’d been to with Hannah a few times and decide to stop in - in need of a well deserved drink.

“There’s no way you should be here alone, dressed like that,” You can hear a familiar voice behind you and you turn around to meet Matthew’s face who was currently checking out your ass while you leaned against the bar. 

“You’re not in charge of me,” You bark back, sipping on the drink you’d gotten, “What are you doing here?”

“I was supposed to meet Noah out for a drink, but he canceled on me when I walked in,” Matthew says, “Why are you here?”

“I was on a date,” You frown.

You really, really, really, didn’t want to admit to Matthew that you’d had a bad date. You were pretty sure he got laid more than anyone you knew and there was no way he wasn’t going to make fun of you for having a terrible date.

“Was it that bad?” Matthew asks, “Or are your standards just way too high?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having standards for yourself, you should try it sometime,” You defend, “But, he spent the entire date talking about himself.”

You bite your lip, looking at Matthew in front of you. Sometimes, when the light caught him just right and he wasn’t being a total douche you could be reminded why he was such a fuckboy in the first place, he was cute as hell. You hated how attracted you were to him sometimes, especially after the way he had protected you from Alex the other night. He didn’t know why you didn’t want to see him, but he was there regardless.

“You should stay,” You declare, biting your lip and looking at Matthew.

You swore there was a twinkle in his eye, he grabbed himself a drink and hopped onto a barstool while you sat next to him. It started with small talk, you confessing that you were sure Hannah made Noah stay in because she told you he wasn’t spending enough time with her. To which Matthew said that was the exact reason he didn’t do relationships. Then you moved to bickering about how you loved the idea of love and the fact that Matthew turned himself off to it actually made you sad.

“You just need to see it from my perspective,” Matthew tries to explain, “No one sees past all of this NHL bullshit anyways, so, I’m just taking advantage of it. Admit it, you thought I was a dick when before you met me?”

“You are a dick,” You joke, “But yes, I may have passed judgement, that doesn’t mean everyone else thinks that.”

“Trust me, they do,” Matthew takes a sip of his beer, “Girls, fans, even my family sometimes, they just can’t see past the whole rat thing.”

You bite your tongue from telling him that if he stopped playing like a rat, people probably wouldn’t say that. Mainly because he was playing in the NHL and I’m sure your opinion on his play didn’t matter much. But also because whatever he was telling you sounded like something he didn’t talk about very much, it intrigued you. You don’t talk much about it further, a couple of people who were fans coming over and insisting you took shots with them. A few rounds of drinks later, you were drunk and Matthew’s hand had found a permanent place on your lower back.

“Ready to go?” Matthew asks, a chill running up your spine when he whispered in your ear.

Maybe you were lonely. Maybe you’d had too much to drink. Maybe you’d found the one part vulnerable part of Matthew and it made you soft. But something possessed to look him in the eyes and demand he took you home. And after asking you four times if you were sure, you were on your way to Matthew’s apartment with him, his lips on yours.

IV.

You slipped out of Matthew’s apartment after that night long before he woke up. Your walk of shame took you back to your apartment and that was that. You’d only seen Matthew once since, and while you were sitting next to Hannah in the stands at the Saddledome, he’d sent you over a wink and you thanked your lucky stars that Hannah wasn’t paying attention. You knew Matthew wasn’t going to let your moment of weakness be forgotten, you just hoped he didn’t embarrass you. You shook your head at the thought, which had been taking up your brain for most of the week. Your thoughts were broken by a heavy knock on the door, and you opened to reveal the person who’d been taking up most of your thoughts.

“What are you doing here?”  You ask, but you knew the answer was whichever one of his girlfriends, and you meant it to be plural, lived in your building.

“I was on my way to see someone but I thought I’d stop by,” Matthew smirks at you, “I have a favor to cash in.”

“I told you nothing sexual,” You counter back, despite the fact that you’d been under just a few nights ago.

“As much as I want to relive the events of the other night,” Matthew says, looking your body up and down, “I need an actual favor.”

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I need you to be my date to this event the Flames are doing,” Matthew sighs, as if he really didn’t want to ask.

“I’m sure there’s a line of girls who want to do that,” You say, wondering why Matthew needs you to go.

“I need to bring someone I can trust not to embarass me,” Matthew grumbles, “You’re smart, and you can hold a conversation with a bunch of our front office guys.”

“You want me to go and make you good?” You ask, trying to get exactly what he was asking you to do.

“Yes,” Matthew says, “I need you to make me look good. Can you do it?”

You should have said no. You should have said no. But, you said yes. You knew it was a bad idea, but the bright smile that graced Matthew’s face when you said yes almost made you forget that he was headed up to a booty call when he left your apartment. Something you realized he could only get away with.

--

Matthew wasn’t a bad date. He’d gotten to your apartment on time. Fed you with way too many compliments while his hand was rested on your thigh on the ride to the hotel ballroom the gala was at. Now, his hand had found its place on your back, while you wooed his coach into thinking Matthew was a decent human being. Really you should have paid overtime for how good you were doing. You’d met the entire Flames front office, charming each of them into thinking their player wasn’t sleeping around when he most definitely was.

You finally pull away from the conversation, latching on Hannah once she was finally in reach.

“You’re working like doubletime,” Hannah jokes, “How’d he convince you to do this?”

“He didn’t tell you what happened?” You ask, assuming his big mouth spilled the beans to Noah, at the very least.

“He never said anything,” Noah shrugs.

“I ran into my ex, and he pretended to be my boyfriend so he’d go away,” You admit, “Then he took me home and I told him I owe him one.”

“See? I knew he wasn’t all bad,” Hannah muses. You thought about what Matthew had said that night you slept together, about how people had presumptions about him he could never change so it didn’t matter. You’d actually thought about it frequently since, and it really made your heart ache for him. It bothered him, it had to.

“He’s not all bad,” You admit, outloud, really just so you could convince Hannah not to pass judgement on him without telling her what he’d told you.

“Hey, we can head out if you want?” Matthew asks, coming behind you. You nod, excited to be going home at a decent hour after a long week of work.

You were silent for the entire car ride home, your eyes constantly on Matthew for the entire ride.

“Would you stop staring at me?” Matthew asks, his eyes not leaving the road, but somehow his hand found your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“Do you think you’re a bad person?” You ask, it was something you couldn’t stop thinking about. You didn’t understand Matthew, you didn’t think anyone actually did, but you wanted to figure him out so badly.

“Is this about what I said the other night? It wasn’t that deep Y/N,” Matthew sighs, “I’m not that deep.”

“Do you think that or have you been told that?” You ask, and you knew you were getting somewhere because you could feel his hand tense up.

“Are you always this annoying?” Matthew deflects.

“No,” You sigh, “It’s just, Hannah said something about you not being all bad and it bothered me.”

“A little criticism isn’t going to hurt me,” Matthew says, throwing his car into park so he could walk you to your door, “I’m not really a good guy either.”

You pout, leaning against the elevator. You were close to getting him to just open to you. His walls were tall and they were definitely thick but you might have been slowly chipping away at him.

“Thank you for doing this tonight, it meant a lot to me,” Matthew says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck while you stood in your doorway. A part you wanted to pull him inside by his collar and have your way with him, but you knew once was one thing but twice was going to be another. You bite your lip, debating it for a second, “Thinking about inviting me inside.”

“How did you-?” You start to ask before Matthew immediately cuts you off.

“You’re practically eye-fucking me,” Matthew jokes, “You won’t invite me inside though, because you know if you sleep with me twice you won’t be able to stop.”

You jaw drops, because he was right, “That’s hardly true.”

“I can read you Y/N, you’re like an open book,” Matthew smirks, “For the record, I don’t know if I’d be able to shake you either if we did this again.”

With that sentiment Matthew was headed down the hallway, turning just one more time before he hit the elevator button.

“Matthew?” You call out, “Are you going up or down?”

The question was burning. You just wanted to know why he was frequenting your building. Whoever was up there and why she could get Matthew to keep coming back. You were a little jealous, that he’d rejected you to go see her.

“That’s none of your business,” Matthew muses, giving you a wink and stepping into the elevator.

You were annoyed, and you thought about walking back outside to see if Matthew’s car was still there. That would make you a crazy person so you laid in bed while it ate you alive. That was, until you’d received a text from Matthew of his bedroom, and a sly comment about how you might have recognized his place. While it was smug and irritating, it did make you happy that he was home and he was alone.

plus one

You felt like an idiot. You stood at the bar next to Hannah, listening to her rant and rave about something Noah did while you watched Matthew flirt with some girl by the bar. You didn’t know why you thought maybe he could turn over a new leaf. That maybe you were getting somewhere with him. But, everything went out the window the second your eyes were on him. You decided he was dead to you, he had to be. You excuse yourself from Hannah, giving Matthew one more look before stomping out of the bar. You could hear his shouts behind you while you walked down the street, your apartment too far to walk but if you stopped you’d be forced to speak to him.

“Y/N! Where are you even going?” Matthew finally catches up to you, and you curse your shorter legs for stopping you from outrunning him.

“Away from you,” You say, “You can go back to your little friend, that’s your life Matthew, I get that now.”

“Come back to my place, I need to talk to you,” Matthew pleads, and you knew you were only a block away from his place. You sigh, nodding and following him down the street.

Matthew’s apartment felt different than it did the night you’d slept together. You were tossing off your clothes in a drunken haze and you never realized how empty his place felt. It was cold, and in some serious need a curtain and throw pillow. It was a metaphor for the current state of it’s resident. 

“Okay talk,” You cross your arms, “Explain to me how you do this to every girl, make them think there’s a part of you that’s decent to only be an asshole to them in the end.”

“I’ve never told anyone what I told you,” Matthew confesses, “I thought, maybe, you’d be into me. Then I realized if you were, I was only going to hurt you. You don’t deserve that, so if I push you away, you’ll be happy.”

“Clearly, I’m not happy,” You say, pointing to the frown that was very present on your face, “Listen, I like you, I don’t know why or how you crawled into my life but I want to be with you - the real you. I want that vulnerable man that told me he thought everyone judged him. I want you to prove to me you are that man.”

“I can do that,” Matthew nods, his hands resting on your cheeks. He captures your lips in his for the most tender kiss you’d been given. It was full of love, and full of feeling.

“I want you to prove it,” You say when you finally pull away, your forehead resting on his.

[harryhandstan]

washed away in you

I don’t have much to say except I appreciate your patience with me as I worked on this piece! I apologize again for all the confusion with posting and deleting and now reposting. This is the third part to my Dad!Harry series. Once again you don’t have to read those to understand this one, but I’ve linked them below in case you would like to revisit them. :)

Thank you to @taintedwonder for reading over part of this for me!

word count: 4.2k

needles tw // (small mention towards the end)

I Want Your Belly (part one) | Wonderful and Warm (part two) | writing tag | masterlist

y’all have already been so good to me but as always likes, rbs, and comments are welcome!!

//

Of all the weeks to be put on bed rest, it had to be the week that Harry started filming for his new movie role.

Technically you were on modified bed rest, which meant resting as much as possible but still moving around as necessary, but the phrase terrified Harry enough that he was doing whatever he could to keep you still. It hadn’t been an easy task, you were in your 8th month of pregnancy, quickly approaching your due date, and there still seemed to be a mountain of important things to get done before your son’s arrival.

It had only been two days since you’d started having what you thought were contractions. It had forced you and Harry to realize just how unprepared the two of you were when you had to rush out of the house at 2 a.m. with nothing packed for what could possibly be the night of your child’s appearance into the world. Just the two of you with disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas under the harsh lighting of the ER exam room. 8 hours of tests and scans and a visit from your doctor later, you returned home to fall back in bed and catch up on the sleep you had missed.

“Listen you’re both new to all this..I get it. But you’re putting too much stress on your body and that’s what caused this tonight. I know it’s hard but, take a week, relax, bed rest as much as possible. I’ll see you in my office again in a few days just to make sure everything is progressing along like we want. If there’s still too much stress on the baby, we may have to push your due date up a little earlier. But we don’t want to do that if we can avoid it.”

Currently you were in the nursery, where most of the last minute things to do remained. You were standing at the changing table, folding a set of onesies to be put away. Harry had been urging you for the past 10 minutes to sit down.

“Harry, I have been in bed all night, or as much of it as your son allowed me to be without kicking me in the ribs or pressing on my bladder. I just wanna get these folded and put away and I’ll be done.”

“Well you can at least sit while y’doing them. Or, let me finish ‘em.” His hands fall on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the rocking chair in the corner. You gesture for him to bring the basket closer, “And why is he only my son when he’s causing you trouble?”

“Maybe cause it was your birthday treat that got us into this mess. Or because he already likes to tease us so much. Besides, you can’t do them, I have a system.”

“Yeah, a birthday treat planned by you. And I know the system, you showed me two days ago.”

“You knew the system, we changed it.”

“We? I’ve barely been home how’ve we..”

“I may have called your Mum again.” You shrug, propping your feet up on the small ottoman positioned in front of the chair, “She and I agreed it’s better this way.”

“You didn’t think it was important to notify me of this system you and y’new bestie have thought up?” He’s turned to lean his back against the changing table, arms folded across his chest. As much as he wants to be upset, he’s over the moon that you and Anne have become so much closer over the past few months. Between his mom and yours, plus your sister and his, he was thrilled to see you had so much support for days when he couldn’t be there. Anne had offered to fly out to spend the week with you, as did your mom, but you put them both off, promising you would need them more the few weeks after the birth.

“Been a little busy growing a human here, Harry. May have slipped my mind. I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”

“Right, you can just tell me where everything goes then.” He’s already worked his way through folding the last of the pile, smiling proudly at you as you lean your head back and close your eyes, sinking further into the chair.

“Socks in the second drawer to the left, hats in the middle. If the onesies are newborn sized, they go to the right. Anything bigger than that gets tucked in the baskets by size there in the middle shelf of the closet, if you can find room.”

Between the two of your families and your group of mutual friends, you’d been given 4 baby showers over the past few months, combining with the items you and Harry had supplied for yourselves. People had been more than generous in helping stock the nursery for your little one.

“All done. How ‘bout some breakfast now?”

“You don’t have time. You have to be on set in less than an hour. I’ll make myself something in a bit. I may go back to sleep for a while, just got up to see you off and wanted to put those things away.”

“Always have time for you, angel,” He offers his hand to help you lift yourself up, “Maybe a smoothie?”

“Alright, if I let you make me a smoothie, will you take yours to go? Don’t want you to be late because of me.”

“Deal. But only if you let me tuck you back into bed before I go.”

“Deal.” You lean up slightly to accept the sweet kiss he offers before shuffling off to the kitchen together.

//

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look.”

You knew he wasn’t listening, trying to maybe, but not really. He sits across the room at the desk in the corner of your bedroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, guitar in his lap, journal open in front of him. He’s in writing mode, something that usually takes you at least 30 minutes to coax him from and convince him to come to bed. Not that you ever wanted to interrupt his process, but tonight you’re feeling anxious about your impending delivery, dread slowing working its way through your body. 

It had been only a few days since your follow up appointment with your doctor. She had deemed you fit to come off bed rest, but urged you to continue to try to keep your stress level to a minimum as much as possible. Easier said than done, but you were finding small ways to relax yourself when you could; meditation, music, reading. But tonight you just wanted Harry for reassurance.

In your nightly scroll through one of your recent favorite mom-to-be blogs, you had come across an article on the difficulty of delivery. You appreciated moms who were brave enough to share their stories online and this person in particular had included a video. Despite your anxiety, you clicked to watch, curiosity overriding any fear rising in your chest. 

When he finally puts away the guitar and the journal and sheds his soft purple robe to swim up the bed to settle next to you, he asks, “Were y’sayin’ something earlier, m’love? Got lost there for a bit, m’sorry.”

His writing sessions were normally done in his office or the studio, but the past few weeks he’d preferred to do them here. Liked the idea of you trying to softly hum along to a new tune he was working through, occasionally offering your opinions about what you liked or didn’t. It was rare that you disliked anything, but he liked that you didn’t shy away from being honest with him. His favorite though? The sight of you, an open book, hand always resting on the side of your belly while you read. It was just as much a comfort for him to be near you these days as it was for you.

“Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look when I deliver this baby.”

His head rests on your thigh, only the side of his face visible as he looks up at you, but it’s enough to see the disappointment flash before he composes himself, not wanting to upset you.

“Alright. What d’you mean by that? Like..you don’t want me in the room or..”

“No, no, I want you in the room, that was never a question. You’re just not allowed to look when I’m pushing. I watched a video and I’m traumatized and I just..”

He sits up quickly, “You watched a birthing video? Without me?”

“Yeah, earlier when you were zoned out. You’ve never seen one?”

“Never been curious enough to watch one ‘til now. Not ‘til I thought of you having our babe. Show me the one you watched?”

You’re hesitant. Truly you’re touched he’s so curious and wants to share this experience with you, but right now the thought of him seeing your body change like that is scary. He senses your unease, almost reads your mind; he knows you so well.

“Babe, s’your body. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t. Just..at least show me what you watched so I can see for myself what it’s like, what you’ll go through. S’all m’askin’ for now.”

“Okay, fine,” You pat the bed next to you and he scurries up to sit, his head on your shoulder while you navigate through your browser history to find the video. You start it, but your eyes stay focused on his face.

“Y’not gonna watch it again with me?”

“No,” You drape your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so you can rest your head on top of his, “I’d rather watch your reactions this time around.”

You’re curious to see how he reacts to certain parts; his little gasps and winces as the video progresses. When it ends, you’re not surprised to see tears have fallen down his face and made a small wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.

“Harry, you’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘Course not, meant what I said earlier. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t..but I don’t want you to think I’ll look at you any differently after. You’re givin’ me one of the greatest gifts anyone ever has, if anything I love you more than I ever thought I could. And that’s only gonna grow once our boy’s here.”

You run your hands through his hair, not sure what to say. You’ve never had a love this big, one that envelops you so fully. The past few months have shown you just how deeply he cares for you, and just how much your own heart could stretch to fill with your overwhelming love for Harry and now the baby growing inside you.      

He doesn’t take offense to your silence, just stills your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips. He slumps further down the bed, head level with your stomach. He pokes it softly through your shirt. He doesn’t even have to ask anymore, you know what he wants and you’re glad to give in to him. You scoot down to rest your head on your pillow, pulling your shirt up and tucking the fabric under your breasts.

Instantly his head rests on your tummy, a hand reaching around to lay there on the other side of it, wrapping himself around you. You reach over and turn the lamp on your bedside table off, sleep drifting it’s way through your body and mind. You let one hand fall to his back, the other one joining his arm to wrap protectively around your belly.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?” 

“You can look. If you want.”

“Y’don’t have to decide tonight. We still have a little time to plan.”

“No. I don’t want to take any of this experience from you. The whole thing’s just a bit scary though.”

“I know it is, m’terrified too. But everything’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna be there for every second of it.” 

“I know you are. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane through all this. You’ve been so good to me, H. Putting up with all my mood swings and late night cravings and whatever I needed.” 

“I haven’t had to ‘put up’ with anything. Just want to make you and bub as happy as y’both already make me.” He turns to kiss the side of your stomach before looking up at you, “Comfy? Am I squishin’ you?”

“No, it’s nice. Don’t see how you can be comfy though.” 

“I’ll move to my pillow in a bit. Just like being close to you and bub,” He yawns, “Goodnight, babe. Love you both so much.”

“We love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”

//  

Sleep had been pretty much non-existent in your third trimester. You were lucky if you got a few hours each night and cat naps throughout the day were rare. 

Tonight is no different. It’s 3 a.m and once you get up for your fifth trip to the bathroom, you know there’s no point in trying to get comfortable again. Harry will be up soon, and as much as he tries to stay quiet during his morning routine, he always found some way to unintentionally wake you. You couldn’t even sleep through his soft kisses to your forehead to say goodbye anymore.

Normally you take yourself down to the living room to find a mindless tv show or movie to carry you through your insomnia, but Harry also seemed to be infected with your curse of being a light sleeper these days. Most nights he would attempt to join you, sweet enough to not want you to be alone, stubborn enough to not listen each time you urged him to go back to bed. He always paid for it the day after though, dark circles under his eyes and nodding off to sleep throughout whatever he had scheduled. 

So in hopes that you wouldn’t wake him by leaving tonight, you reach for the remote to the bedroom tv, muting it so the noise won’t disturb him. You would almost be content enough to stare at him for the rest of the night. The sharp outline of his jaw, freckles scattered across his face that would rival the constellations in the sky, all softened by the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you can’t help but reach out to run the back of your hand over the smooth skin of the man you admire so much. You adore the way even in his sleep he molds to your touch, soft snores and deep, even breaths never stopping as you move up to brush his curls away from his face. 

You almost make it through 20 minutes of a movie before his eyes flutter open. You know how much your false contractions from before weighed on him, alarm is quick to flood his face before he has a chance to take in his surroundings. 

You answer before he has a chance to let worry take over, “It’s alright. We’re okay. Just the usual..couldn’t sleep.”

He rubs his eyes to clear them, “What time s’it?”

“4:30.”

He squints slightly at the movie playing before chuckling, “How many times y’think you’ve watched this one? Know it’s been at least a dozen or so in the last month.”

“It’s my favorite. One of them, anyway. It’s always been soothing to me.”

“Bet you could quote the whole thing by now, even with it muted.”

You glance up at the tv and it only takes a second for you to pinpoint the exact part. You take his comment as a challenge, pushing yourself up out of your nest of pillows to rest your back against the headboard before quoting, “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real, and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it, or buy it, or wrap it up tight. But it’s there just the same, making things turn out right.”

Your voice breaks as you say the last few words. Maybe it’s the combination of exhaustion and all the new fears and hormones running through your mind and body. Nostalgia of watching this when you were younger and now sharing it with your child when they are old enough touches your heart and you can’t stop the tears continuously streaming down your face.

“Baby,” He pushes himself up to rest next to you, tugging you until you're pressed close to his side, “Please don’t cry.”

“M’miserable, Harry. I’m as big as the moon and I can’t breathe and my feet always hurt and I’m just..ready for him to be here. Ready for him to be out so I can hold him and kiss him and put him in his own bed so I can rest in mine again.” 

You know you sound childish and whiny and somewhat ridiculous, but being so sleep deprived means all sense has left and so the words come spilling out, a jumbled mess you doubt he even understood.

“I know you are, love. Hate to see you so upset,” He kisses the top of your head, “Certainly as bright as the moon, but not as big. Your body’s as exactly as it should be. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s only cause you’re tired. He’ll be here soon and we’ll have so many people here to help, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, you know he’s right and you know once you have a nap things won’t feel so overwhelming. You pull yourself away from him to wipe your face on your t-shirt. A smile stretches across your lips as the thought enters your mind, “If I’m as bright as the moon, you’re as golden as the sun.”

“Yeah?” He’s blushing now, looking down at his hands before his eyes dart up to meet yours, “Guess that makes bub our little star, huh?”

You giggle before shrugging, “Guess so.”

“By the way,” His hand rests on your thigh, “We gonna keep calling him bub or we gonna pick a name?” 

“Bub’s cute. Bub Styles.” You wrinkle your nose at the thought, “I just want it to be perfect for him, you know? I feel like I need to see his face before I just blindly pick a name. We could definitely narrow down some options though and see which one suits him best.”

“We’ll think of something special, eh? Somethin’ just f’him.”

“Yeah, we will,” You suck in a sharp intake of breath at a particularly hard kick from within your stomach. Harry’s head snaps to look over your face before looking down to where your hand lays on your belly.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, on edge as he waits for your answer.

“It’s fine he’s just..ah, being a little rowdy this morning.” You take his hand from your thigh and press it to where the kicks were landing, “Right here. Think that’s his butt, his head’s down here, and..ah, his feet are right about here. Can you feel him?”

His palm lays flat across the front of your belly, “S’amazing, never gets old. Bet it feels so..weird to you though.”

“At first, yeah, but got used to it pretty quickly. It’s comforting now, like he’s saying hello or contributing to our conversations when we talk.”

He puts his mouth almost right against your tummy, so close his breath tickles and you feel the vibrations when he speaks, “Take it easy on mumma, little one. Just a bit longer, yeah? Can’t wait to see ya face. Bet y’so handsome like daddy, just gotta be a lil’ more patient like mummy, alright?” 

“Think maybe he’s ready for his pre-breakfast snack?”

“Dunno..I’ll ask him though,” He bends again, “That why y’bein’ such a brat to mum, huh? Woke her up early cause you were hungry? Alright, daddy’ll make your usual.”

He kisses your stomach, before straightening to where he’s level with your face, “That sound good?”

Your “usual” was a bowl of what had been your biggest craving throughout your pregnancy; fruit. On nights like this when sleeplessness couldn’t be defeated, the two of you normally gave in pretty quickly and had breakfast together. On days when you were able to sleep through Harry’s departure, you would always wake to the bowl already prepared and ready for you. Oftentimes there would be a quickly scribbled note with the words “Love, H” stuck to the top or the side of the bowl, like you didn’t already know who had left it for you.

“You’re spoiling him already, Harry.”

He smacks a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling back just a second before diving back in to peck another one on your other cheek, “Tryin’ to spoil you too, angel.”

//

Contractions, real ones you were sure this time, had started 30 minutes ago. As much as Harry wanted to rush you out of the house in your pajamas, you had insisted on at least 5 minutes to change and pull your hair into a quick ponytail before gathering your bag and dashing down the stairs.

Just as Harry’s hand lands on the doorknob, you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, “Harry, stop for a second.”

“Why? Are you having one now?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“This is one of our last moments before we become parents. I want you to slow down, take a deep breath, and kiss me.”

“You’re impossible, you know that? Active labor and you stop me for a kiss.” He rolls his eyes but you can see his shoulders drop, relaxing just enough to press his lips firmly against yours. You reach your hand up and around to the back of his neck, deepening it for a moment before drawing back to scan his face.

“Better?” Your hand continues to work through his hair, happy to watch his face relax slightly at your touch.

“Much. How are you so calm?”

“I don’t know, really. I thought I would be scared, and I am but..I’m ready. So ready to meet him.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” His hand falls to the small of you back, leading you out the door and to the car.

Once you arrive at the hospital, he doesn’t leave your side, not even when the nurse suggests he do so while you get your epidural. She agrees to let him stay, but makes him sit in a chair in front of you and sternly tells him not to look.

He holds both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as an attempt to distract you. He knows how much you hate needles, how the thought of this procedure alone had scared you almost as much as the idea of labor. You release a deep sigh of relief when they announce it’s done, and he helps you settle back into bed, tucking the blanket around you.

“So proud of you, baby. You’re already doing amazing.” 

Things progress much faster than you ever thought they would, and it’s only three hours before you’re ready to push. Harry’s there for every second of it, hand behind your back and small encouragements in your ear when you think you can’t go any further. 

“M’tired, H.” The room is full of people, your doctor and a set of nurses, but his focus stays on you; simply existing together in that moment. Small pieces of hair have come loose from your ponytail, clinging to the sweat now covering your forehead. He sweeps them away before resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I know y’are, lovie, but you’re so so close. Doin’ so incredible,” His smile is so wide, beaming at you when he leans closer, “Y’look gorgeous too, never seen you look more stunning than now.”

That has a laugh bursting from you, still breathless when you reply,  “You’re such a bad liar.”

“M’serious! Know better than to lie to you.” He winks just before working his arm around behind your back again, giving you the motivation you needed to keep going.

It’s not long before you hear what you’re certain is one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear, the sweet sound of your baby boy’s cry as he enters the world.

//

An hour later, both of you are still in awe of your little one, sleeping peaceful now in their dad’s strong arms. Harry’s wedged himself next to you in the hospital bed, long legs stretched in front of him. He keeps looking between where your head is propped on his shoulder and the baby.

He breaks the silence first, “Definitely think he has your hair. S’nice and soft.”

“Think it’ll be darker like yours though. Maybe he’ll have your eyes.” You reach over to run your finger along your baby’s nose.

He looks between you and the baby again, a prideful smile brightening his face. He smushes his lips against your temple, and you close your eyes as the feeling of adoration combined with the  exhaustion of the day washes over you. 

You hear him whisper just as you’re drifting to sleep, “My moon and star, together at last.”