#please something save me from hitting refresh every two minutes

[ghostforum]

[kookiecrumb]

BTS Makne Line's

Panty Competition

(A "Choose Your Own Adventure" fic)

Taehyung's Version

warnings: smut (18+), cunnilingus, some pining, lingerie, breastplay, fluff, explicit language, unprotected sex*(don't do this), creampie

wordcount: 2.8K (including intro)

INTRO AND MASTERLIST (PLEASE read first).

"I'm gonna go help Tae!" you chirp.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. "Taehyung can't pull you," he rebuts. You can't help but think it's slightly out of jealousy.

"What do you mean? He's smoking hot and I've had the fattest crush on him ever since that cruise we all took as freshmen…" you reminisce.

Taehyung was once the scrawny guy from your science class who was always losing his folders and asked to borrow your paper every now and then during tests.

Ever since he joined the swim team, though, he's gotten toned and all of the sudden he started growing his hair out a little. His jaw has gotten more defined and you can tell he's grown into himself really well. He's older now, more mature, and that's exactly what you need.

"Whatever. You have his number," Jungkook scoffs. "I'll win this thing, so you'll be doing this for nothing!"

"We'll see about that!" You shout back as you close the door to your room to get ready. A matching set is essential for such an occasion. Finally, an opportunity to wear the gorgeous emerald green lingerie you bought as a graduation gift to yourself.

It might be a little immature to get excited about something as superficial as fucking your silly college crush, but who cares?

You have to actually call him up first.

Damn.

You sit down with your whole set on underneath your one pair of college sweatpants and a cute solid color long sleeve and dial him up on your phone.

He picks up after three rings. "Hey, what's up?" Taehyung answers.

"So I hear you're having a little contest with the guys, huh?"

"...who the fuck told you?"

– You can't help but smirk.

Tae interrupts you. "Wait why the fuck are you calling me about it?!"

He actually allows you to explain this time, his arms crossed as he's standing in line at the convenience store. On the counter in front of him are a pack of condoms, a pack of gum, and a disposable pen. A cashier is eavesdropping on the conversation, but Taehyung doesn't give two shits about it.

"Well, duh…" you pout. "I wanna help you win."

"...You do?" He hesitates, keeping his eyes down. The cashier urges him to remove his card, trying to get his attention.

"Yeah, can you do that for me?" You respond, seductively.

"Definitely," he replies. The cashier rolls her eyes, swinging the card reader around and removing the card for him. She hands him the bag and shoos him from the front counter.

"Great. Let's meet at your place tonight. Nine o'clock. I'll bring dinner," you tease.

"No, I'll bring dinner. Just bring your ass," he insists.

"Will do," you flirt.

You proceed to scream into your pillow for the next five to ten minutes. Although, you really should be saving your voice…so you can scream into his pillows.

While you wait, you make yourself some tea and sit with your legs crossed on the bed with your laptop, casually switching between socials and binging whatever show is on. When the digital clock hits about seven fifteen, you consider showering.

God, this is refreshing. You honestly haven't had a reason to take care of yourself this good for a while, so you're making it worth it. The steam of the shower floats around you like a cloud, surrounding you in its humid warmth. It can't get any better than this.

After making sure you're clean and ready, you check yourself one more time in the mirror and smile. There she is. Beautiful. Sexy.

Your phone dings. It's a voice recording!

"Alright so, if you don't know where I live, I'm like…five minutes from campus near the bridge…area? Like,,"

Taehyung smacks his teeth and sends another recording.

"Just come out close to the Starbucks and you'll see me there. I promise I will fight off…any headass who is dumb enough to fuck with you."

He's kinda sweet.

With a little bit of a struggle, you put your fit back on and walk out the door of your room after turning everything off. You unhook your set of keys from the key hanger and stuff them in your pocket, heading for the Starbucks on campus.

Taehyung stands tall in his grey sweats and a cozy jacket, with his hair curling outside of the hood. He's carrying a tote bag under his arm from the metropolitan museum of art, and his hands are stuffed into his pockets.

He gives you a line smile, but his eyes say it all. He's happy to see you.

Without a word, you approach him and put your arms around him in a relaxed hug. "Hey, Tete," you sigh.

"Hey, y/n. Are you okay?" He asks, his fingers carefully swirling on your back. "You wanna do this?"

"Yes~ I'm just glad you're here," you assure him, looking up at him from his chest. He smells so calming.

Taehyung lathers himself in a lavender moisturizer after he showers, so he always smells soothing. He puts his large hands on your head and caresses you. "Come on up. I got us Chinese."

You eat with your legs crossed on the coffee table, and he makes you a plate out of all of the side dishes he got. The whole time, he's asking you questions. It's almost like an interrogation. He wants to know what prompted you to come help him out.

"What am I supposed to say? I just…wouldn't mind it I guess," that's an understatement and it does not throw Taehyung off your scent at all.

"Gee, so my long-term colleague and friend of five years tells me she wants to help me win a stupid bet between me and the guys just because she really wouldn't mind it," Taehyung laughs. "Yeah, that's super believable, Y/N."

He picks up a spring roll with his chopsticks and dips it in the peanut dipping sauce. "But…whatever. I won't push," he shrugs it off.

A quiet and comfortable silence builds, the crunching of Taehyung's eating the only sound in the room. You begin eating with him, observing his small mannerisms and habits.

He pauses his eating and glances up at you. "You're giving me those eyes again," he says. "You're so obvious."

You are, it's true. Who wouldn't be?

"Just admiring," you reply, smally.

"Just admiring?" he echoes, entertained.

Taehyung puts his eating utensils down and places his hands on his thighs, inhaling deeply. "Mmm, the rest is yours. Take it back to your place after."

"Okay," you comply.

Then, he gradually reaches out his hand across the table and weaves his fingers between yours. "Do you wanna go have sex?"

You bite your lip. He's so straightforward. Flustered, you nod.

"I'll take good care of you," he reminds you. You know he will.

Taehyung briefly kisses the back of your hand before rising from the floor and walking into another room.

Curiously, you go looking for him again. He isn't in his room, and the bathroom light is on, so he must be there.

Taehyung's room is just like any other guy's. It looks like he actually put some effort into making his bed and cleaning things up a little before you came, though. The only discrepancy was that his bed was open, but it looked intentional. It was invitational.

"Oh! Hey," Taehyung greets from behind you. He sets down a box of things, like a kit, on the bedside table. His hands meet your waist, his palms smoothing over your midsection.

"Tae," you sigh into his touch. He replies by pulling you closer and, in a tangent, kissing your neck. The vibration of his voice buzzes on your skin as you allow him to undress you piece by piece.

His slender fingers dip beneath the fabric of your clothes to reveal your skin to him. He needs to access you. His eyes land on the intricate fabric of your lingerie causing him to shiver.

"You wore this for me?" he asks, in quiet delight.

"Yeahh," you whimper subtly.

"You smell so good too, mm…" he buries his face into the crook of your neck as his hands admire the complex pattern of the lace against your skin. "Fuckk," he groans as he absorbs more of your body.

"Let's help each other feel good. Please," he speaks next to your ear, his hands cupping your breasts and squeezing them with care. "You know how much the both of us have been wanting each other."

"God, I want to give in to you so bad," you reply as your mind indulges in fantasies you've played over and over in your head before this. "Have your way with me, I trust you with my body."

You feel Taehyung's lips curl into a smirk against your skin. "You're so easy for me…"

The way he held your body was as if he would never let go. His arms and his legs entrapped you on his bed and under his control you felt liberated from your own inhibitions.

His thighs flexed under you as his fingers twisted themselves in the lace of your panties and pulled them casually to the side. He hisses when he fingers you languidly, the thought of fucking your tight pussy a catalyst for his wildest fantasies.

"Tae," you whine, holding on to the seam of his pants as he deliberately kisses between your breasts. Your hands weave through his beautiful curls, feeling like silk between your fingers. "Ohh~" you sigh.

He trails down your body, feeling your sides and making love to every sliver of skin before arriving at your abdomen and kneading your thighs. Without a moment of hesitation, Taehyung splits your thighs and lays his fat tongue on your slit.

You groan softly, lifting your hips toward him. The warm muscle spreads itself on your cunt and then sharpens, swirling around your clitoris before his lips close around it.

He sucks lewdly, his throat buzzing with baritone moans as he tastes you. Taehyung reaches his tongue into your entrance and thrusts teasingly.

Your breath quickens as you tense underneath him, vulgar noises escaping your lips in the form of stringy whines as you melt for him. "Ohhh please," you beg.

Taehyung only smirks and continues kissing and sucking at your throbbing cunt. He brings his slender fingers to your entrance and gathers a fair amount of your arousal before pushing in carefully. His eyebrows furrow in concentration.

You want to give him all of you, so you let him know just how good he's making you feel. "Taehyung, that's good,," you cry, feeling yourself pulse around his twisting fingers. "Fuck that's good, please don't stop touching me,"

He rolls his eyes in pleasure, readjusting your hips so that he can deepen his thrusts.

He's so hard from eating you that he's practically humping the mattress beneath him. Taehyung is incredibly desperate to get inside of your sweet cunt and it's driving him insane.

"Fuck! Fuck,, oh fuck," you gasp, sharply. A deep, binding pressure builds inside of you, fueled by the obscene sensation of your college crush eating your pussy.

He points his tongue and teases your clit one more time before removing your thighs from his shoulders and rising up to kiss you.

"You're cumming around my cock, so don't even think about it, " he warns. "You're gonna cover my cock in your pretty cum."

"Yes please," you breathe, pulling down his pants and kicking off your panties in one swift movement. You connect his hips to your cunt and start grinding yourself on his veiny shaft.

In a rush of heated and intimate kisses, he squeezes and plays with your breasts, releasing them from their pretty constraints and holding them in his delicate hands. "Ohh~" you pout, your eyes briefly meeting his as he carefully pinches around your nipple.

Your fingers find the shell of his ear and lovingly stroke it with your thumb, a gentle touch to remind him of your intentions.

It's hard to keep a good conscience when his dick is pulsing against your needy cunt.

He's so thick you can barely comprehend it when he splits you. Taehyung easily reaches your cervix, and with how wet you are, he glides in smoothly.

With how consumed you are with one another you cannot tell where your body stops and his begins. You wind around him and breathe his air as he moves his hips in slow circles inside of you.

"I want you to cum deep inside of me, Tae," you whimper. "You stretch me so good,"

"Let me stretch you better." Taehyung steals your lips and pulls you flush against him as he accelerates his pace. His hands force your thighs around him as he pounds into you, each dizzying thrust sending chills through your body.

Your hands splay across his chest and move to his back, scratching him out of pure euphoria. His fingers are eagerly stimulating your bud as he pecks sweet kisses under your neck.

"...pound this pussy like it's been craving me for the entire semester, huh? It's mine, isn't it, Y/N? The fuck you've been craving from me?"

"Yes~ so good, so…fucking good mmm," you blissfully reply.

He pins you to the mattress and fucks you shamelessly, driving his cock into your cervix as he encourages you to cream around him. He smiles at you maliciously and snaps his hips up in relentless yet powerful thrusts. They shake the bed, causing a definite rhythm as you squeeze your legs around him, tensing your whole body before creaming on his thick cock.

His eyes widen and he staggers, a thick load of cum coating your cunt. Taehyung pants into a cheeky smile. He brings his palms to your face and holds you, planting a few chaste kisses on your lips before leaning back and sighing.

He spots half of your emerald lingerie on the floor and reaches to pick it up while still inside you. With careful hands, he folds them and places them to the side.

You cringe a bit when he pulls out of you, your pussy dripping with his cum.

"Oh–" Taehyung quietly swipes a glob of it from under you. "That's…really sexy," he mumbles.

"It's good," you laugh.

"Let's uhm…hop in together?" You nod your head towards the bathroom.

He complies after a few pouty kisses, carrying you swiftly over to the shower.

permatag gang gang: @kooliv , @koobsessed , @angelwonie , @carolynanderson , @hoseokgrecns , @bangsterz , @swyseren , @sxtaep , @koostarcandy , @hgema , @jjkeverlast , @armys-dna , and @nglmrk

[tom-holland-parker]

I Wanna Wear Your Tie

Request: Can you please do a professor tom x student reader, she’s of age of course, and he takes a liking to her for being so smart and he can barely contain himself with every outfit she wears. And one day after class he asks her to hang back and things get very SMUTTY?

Warning: 18 + SMUT (oral, choking, vaginal sex), student/teacher relationship, cursing, age gap (legal)

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Word count: 4081

Masterlist

Tom knew from the first time you walked into class he was going to have a hard time. Not because you were a trouble maker, he heard from your other professors that you were an extremely bright and well rounded student, but because you liked to wear the shortest sundresses he’d ever seen. Tom knew he fucked up by developing a crush on his student. It was immoral and he could lose the job he worked so hard to get. 

Tom had been staring at the email all weekend, debating all his choices. He knew the right thing to do was to report it and let the school handle everything, but a big part of him told himself to do otherwise.

Dear Professor Holland,

I want to wear your tie while you fuck me

Love Y/N

Tom let out a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes, refreshing his inbox once more in hopes you had sent another email, an explanation or maybe even an apology, anything that would avoid him having to send the response that he had drafted Friday night after he received your message. Of course as the hours passed he knew that hoping was pointless, Tom sighed looking over his drafted email for what seemed like the 100th time before hitting send. 

Ms. Y/L/N

In regards to your last email I have no choice but to report it to the school. I do, however, acknowledge that you are one of my highest scoring students so it is only fair that I give you a chance to explain yourself. Please meet me in my office Monday after class

Professor Holland

Little did Tom know you were freaking out, spending Saturday nursing your hangover from partying Friday night. It was a drunken mistake, you would’ve never sent the email had you been sober but leave it to the vodka to let you do something stupid.

You had one day to come up with some apology and still couldn’t find the right words. Countless drafts saved in your notes app, but none good enough to express the regret you felt by sending that email. Of course time wasn’t on your side and the hours moved faster than usual. Finally it was Monday afternoon and you sat in your door waiting for your final class of the day, his class

“Maybe if you just tell him it was a mistake he’ll understand” Your roommate Kendra laughed as she looked at your computer, you’d been rereading the email for hours, hoping it would go away. Glancing at the clock you sighed, “I have his class in an hour, how am I going to face him”

“You could skip”

“I’m already in enough trouble as it is I can’t skip class” You sighed, closing the laptop as you moved to put on your shoes, “I’ll just give the best apology he’s ever heard of and hopefully it’ll all work out”

Kendra chuckled, “who knows maybe you’ll get exactly what you wanted”. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll text you after class”

///

Tom watched as you entered class, his eyes trailing over your outfit, you were wearing his favorite dress, white with blue flowers. He chuckled at your innocent appearance but frowned when he noticed you taking a seat in the back instead of your usual seat in the front.

You showed up to class right on time, looking at your feet to avoid any eye contact with Tom. It was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was that stupid email. It didn’t help that he was wearing a tie today, the same tie you’d imagine him gagging you with on most nights. You shook your head trying to focus on forming an apology that wasn’t absolutely pathetic

“Alright class is over, If you have any questions about the assignment you can” his gaze shifted towards you, “email me”

Your eyes widened as you distracted yourself by putting your things in your bag. As if the universe wanted to see you completely embarrass yourself in front of the teacher you’d been crushing on all semester, you piled out the class with the rest of the students, trudging down the hallway towards his office. You stood outside the door for a few minutes, pacing back and forth as you tried to compose yourself. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage as you knocked on the door 

“Come in” You heard his muffled voice from behind the door. You took a deep breath as you twisted the door knob walking into the well lit office. 

“Hi Professor, you said you needed to see me” You say trying to seem innocent. He cleared his throat pointing to the leather seat in front of his desk, “Please have a seat” 

Slowly you make your way to the seat, placing your bag on the floor as you stare at him. Tom took a deep breath, opening the email as he passed you his laptop, “When I get an email from my brightest student I expected a question about her latest essay not this”

Your face heated in embarrassment as you handed him the laptop, “Professor I’m so sorry I was very drunk Friday night and I know that isn’t an excuse but I didn’t mean to send that. If I could take it back I would just please don’t report this”

Tom watched as tears slowly began to trail down your face, “y/n I’m not going to report you”. 

You looked at him in disbelief, “Seriously”

“but you’re not getting off that easily” He closed his laptop, “You’ll be spending the week and your weekend helping me grade papers”

You let out a sigh of relief, “thank you professor I’m really sorry it ever happened”

Tom chuckled, “You’re one of the smartest girls in my class. I would hate to see you get in trouble because of one drunk mistake” You wiped your tears away, feeling yourself relax now that you knew you weren’t going to be in too much trouble. “After all you’re only young once, just try to keep your thoughts in a diary and not your emails”

You chuckled, picking up your bag as you got up to leave, “will do professor”

///

Tom instantly regretted his decision. Don’t get him wrong, having the extra help was amazing but it was hard to concentrate when all you wore were short dresses. He spent all week sitting at his desk, too afraid to get up for fear that his body would betray him and you see the hard on he was trying desperately to get rid of. Seeing you in class was hard enough but when he watched you in what seemed like your natural element it changed something in him.

He watched as you sat on the couch in his office, your hair tied back and your glasses slowly sliding down your face, every once in a while you had to push them back in place. Tom couldn’t help but smile at the faces you made while reading the essays, a look of annoyance when you read over an obvious mistake or the way your eyebrows furrowed when you wrote the feedback. He tried his hardest to keep his laughter inside whenever you got distracted and drew little faces in the margins. He hated to admit it, it made him feel terrible, but he was a professor falling for his student

“Professor I’m not sure about this” You said getting up from the couch as you walked towards his desk. Your voice knocked him out of his trance as he watched you hand the paper to him, “See the evidence goes along with the topic sentence but the explanation is still choppy” 

You watched as Tom took the paper from you, your breathing hitching when his hands grazed over yours. You shook your head reminding yourself that you were already here because your stupid feelings and if you kept letting yourself indulge in what was supposed to be your punishment you were going to end up in the deans office.

“I see what you mean,” Tom said looking over the paper, “just circle the paragraph and place it in the pile and I’ll look over it later.” He looked up, surprised to see how close you were to him, your chest inches away from his face. It was just his luck that you decided to wear a low cut dress today.

“Okay” You replied, taking the paper from him as you slowly moved back to the couch. Tom glanced at the clock noticing how late it was getting, “Well it’s getting late and you probably want to spend the you weekend somewhere way entertaining than here so you can leave, punishment over”

“Are you sure? I still owe you two more days and it doesn’t feel fair to end my punishment early” You said, grabbing another paper. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay because it actually felt unfair or if you really just wanted an excuse to keep spending time with him. 

“Well if you insist, '' he chuckled, a part of him happy that you weren’t eager to leave, “But we can finish this tomorrow afternoon, I’ll walk you out”

You gathered your things, meeting Tom at the door where he waited for you, his hand resting on your back as he guided you out the room, locking the door behind him. “It’s dark, I’ll walk you to your car, Where are you parked?” Tom said looking at the parked cars on the street

“I don’t drive” You said awkwardly, “But my dorm is only a few blocks away from here I don’t mind walking”

Tom shook his head, “No way I’m letting you walk, it's too dangerous, I’ll drive you.” You watched as he took his keys out his pocket unlocking the black BMW parked across the street.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way” you looked down on your feet, here you were again too flustered to even look at him. Tom chuckled at your nervousness, “Don’t worry about it. I insist on it.” Your breath hitched as he placed his hand on your back again, guiding you towards the car.

It only took a few minutes for him to get to your dorm building, “well here we are” He said, parking his car before looking at you. You glanced at him nervously, “Thanks Professor”

“Call me Tom” he chuckled, “But only when were alone”

You wanted to punch yourself for feeling butterflies but you couldn’t help it. “Well Tom” You laughed, calling him by his name felt weird, “thank you”

He watched as you moved to grab the door handle but froze, “Oh I forgot to ask you about your assignment”

“What’s up?” he shrugged. “Well I know you wanted us to write about how the author uses the women in his novel to display power but I can’t write about that. The author clearly doesn’t see the woman as symbols of power he sees them as sex objects, which is shown multiple times throughout the text so I can’t write about something that isn’t true”

“So you don’t believe sex is a form of power?” Tom questioned trying not to smile at the way your brows furrowed in concentration

“Of course I believe sex is a form of power but for the author to display women having sex as a symbol for powerful femininity the woman would have to own their sexual desires and wants”

Tom chuckled, “If you really feel so strongly about that then write about it, I’d love to hear more about what you have to say about owning your sexual desires. Seems to me you know a lot about that” 

“Oh my god” You hide your face in your hands, “I didn’t even realize-”

“Don’t be embarrassed, if you can’t joke about it then you’ll let it eat you alive” Tom chuckled

“Well” you smiled, “I should probably get to writing”

“Yeah you should”

You both didn’t even noticed the way you both began to slowly lean into each other, the tension in the car growing thick

“Goodnight professor”

“It’s Tom” He said with a smile

You scrunch your nose, “Goodnight Tom”

Your faces were inches away from each other. He couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at your lips before looking back at your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same, “Goodnight y/n”

You both stayed silent, letting the tension take over. Your lips grazing over each other. The kiss was slow at first but it soon progressed into passionate open mouth kisses, both of you giving into your desires.

Your hands reached to grab his face, shocked at how soft his cheeks felt. “Wait wait wait” Tom said, pulling away slowly. 

You caught your breath, wiping your lips as you moved back into your seat, “I should probably go”

Before Tom could say a word you were out the car rushing towards the dorm building. “Fuck” he said to himself as he leaned back into his seat. He knew he’d fucked up, but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he kissed you.

///

When you knocked on Tom’s office door the next day you were even more nervous than you were Monday. You were too embarrassed and instead of facing the problem head on you did what you did best, ignored it. 

You spent the afternoon on the couch, headphones on as an excuse to block out Tom. If you had a question you didn’t ask it and when you had a comment you didn’t say it. It was pure torture for you and Tom, yet you both chose to ignore the elephant in the room.

As the hours passed and the sun began to set Tom’s patience was growing thin. He couldn’t pretend like the kiss never happened, and if he was being honest with himself he wanted more.

You sighed in frustration, as hard as you tried to concentrate on the papers in front of you, you just couldn’t. Thoughts about last night flooded your brain making it hard to concentrate on even the simplest sentences. You threw the paper on the couch, ripping your headphones off, “I’m sorry but this silence is killing me, can we just get this awkward conversation over with”

“Alright well” Tom stared at you, unsure what to say. Yes he felt wrong but he also didn’t care. He got a taste of you and now he wanted more, “I apologize for what happened, it was completely unprofessional on my part”

You cleared your throat trying to find the right response, “yeah, well, I'm sorry too, we were both in the wrong and it shouldn’t have happened and I’m really hoping we can just move past this” 

“Yes I agree” Tom nodded his head, “So how are those papers coming along?”

You shrugged, sitting down in the exact leather chair you’d sat in on Monday, “There needs to be a study group or something, I mean if this is the writing skills of our future world leaders I’m honestly a little concerned”

Tom chuckled, his hands instinctively reaching for his tie, something you noticed he did subconsciously. Your heart skipped a beat as your stomach fluttered, “god get a grip girl” You thought as you blinked your lust filled thought away.

Tom smirked, noticing your reaction to the way you reacted to him, “Yes well not everyone has an easy time with writing as you do”. He touched his tie again, this time tugging on the knot a little.

Your breath hitched as your brain went foggy. A low chuckle leaving his mouth as you shook your head, “Well I’m not that great of a writer, I mean I have countless drafts that no one sees”

“Really?” Tom played with his tie, loving how much the simple habit affected you, “How many drafts did you make before you sent that email?”

Your eyes widening in surprise, “no drafts. Drunk me is the best writer”

Tom smiled, getting up from his seat as he moved to stand in front of you. You watched as he leaned against his desk. You bit your lip as you leaned back into the chair, enjoying the way that Tom seemed so much taller than you.

“You know you probably shouldn’t say that to your professor”

You smirked, “There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t say to my professor” You were playing with fire but the heat felt too good, it made you want to know what the burn felt like. “Fuck it, what’ve you got to lose” You thought to yourself as you smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Tom’s eyebrow raised in question as he leaned down towards you, his face only inches from you, “things like what?”

You smiled bringing your lips close to his ear, “Like how much I want you to fuck me”

The groan that left Tom had your thighs clenching together, “Yeah you definitely shouldn’t tell me that.” You chuckled as you leaned back in the seat, Tom’s eyes moved over your body like you were a work of art, “but then again as a teacher I probably shouldn’t want to fuck my student so badly”

Your lips parted in surprise as Tom smirked, his fingers gently trailing up your thigh. Your breath hitched in anticipation but a disappointed sigh left your mouth when his hand didn’t move past the hem of your short dress. “If this happens no one can know”

You nodded your head as his hand grabbed your chin, keeping your head in place and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Words darling”

“No one finds out” You gulped, your body frozen. You could feel yourself getting wet from the power he held over you. The feeling of his having control over you was intoxicating

“And you understand that I will never use this against you? You can leave right now and I will forget this ever happened and we can go right back to our normal professional student-teacher relationship”

“I understand professor” You nodded, wanting nothing more than for his hands to be all over you. 

“Good girl” He smiled, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, “Now go sit on my desk and spread those legs”

You smiled, quickly doing as you were told. Tom chuckled, amused by your excitement. You watched as he got on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he places kisses up your thighs, occasionally leaving a mark that would stay for days to come. “You’re so wet, all this over a couple of kisses?” He teased

Before you could answer Tom moved your underwear aside, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. You moaned, your hand instinctively reaching for his hair. “I knew you would taste good,” He said, licking his lips. He ate you like you were his last meal, licking and slurping you like a starving man. 

You’d never been more thankful that the school was empty on Saturdays, no one around to hear the moans that Tom was coaxing out of you. “Oh god” Your hips shamelessly bucking against his face as he pulled your legs onto his shoulder.

“Tom please” You whimpered as his tongue slowed down to a teasing pace. He groaned, his large hand slapping your thigh, “It’s professor.” His voice was demanding and powerful. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers stretched you, toes curling as he effortlessly found your g-spot. “Professor please I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me baby” He moaned, “I want your cum all over my face”

His fingers moved faster as you reached your breaking point, loud moans leaving your mouth as your back arched. You could feel Tom smirking against your clit as your legs began to slightly shake. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum” Tom said as he stood up, your cum making his face glisten in the last bits of light that came from the windows of the office. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer as you licked your cum off his face. 

“Someone’s eager” He joked as you kissed down his neck. “Hmm I can’t help it, you just look so sexy with my cum on your face. Plus I’ve been wanting this all semester so are you gonna give me what I want or am I gonna have to get it from someone else”

Tom’s jaw tightened as he grabbed your wrist, “Don’t be a brat or I’ll edge you all night and leave you with nothing”

You whimpered as Tom pulled you off the desk, “Now if I remember correctly,” you watched as he loosened his tie, “You wanted to wear this.” You nodded your head, watching as he took off the blue and white tie, taking a deep breath as he placed it around your neck. 

“And as much as I love you in this dress, I think I’d prefer for you to be out of it” He smirked. You chuckled, turning around so he could unzip the dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Tom’s arms snaked around your body he pulled your back into his. His fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling the sensitive area. You bit your lip, rubbing your ass against his hard on, your pussy desperate for more attention.

“Professor” You wined, “I want you”

“So needy baby” He chuckled against your skin as he kissed up your shoulder and neck, “Don’t worry, you’ve been a good girl I won’t tease you too much”

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hand twisted the tie, making it tighter around your throat, “Is this okay?” You nodded, wincing when his hand roughly slapped your ass, “Come on sweetheart you're smart enough to know that when I ask a question I expect an answer. Now use your words”

“Yes Professor” You said moaning as his hand gently rubbed the area he’d just hit. Tom quickly unbuckled his pants, pushing them down as he aligned himself with you. He teasingly rubbed the head of his cock on your clit, loving the low whimpers that escaped your mouth as your hips jolted up. 

Tom’s grip on your hips tightened, pushing you down into the desk as he bottomed you out. You moaned loudly as he began to thrust into you, “This is what you wanted right? Your professor fucking you like a slut”

You gripped the desk, trying your best to keep your balance. Tom gripped the tie again, the fabric pulling your head back. “Faster please Professor” You begged as you moved your hips. 

His hips sped up as his hand moved in front of you tracing figure eights on your clit. You became light headed from how tight the tie was but you couldn’t care less it all felt too good. “Sir Please It’s too much I’m gonna cum”

“Go on baby cum on my cock, give it to me” Tom sped up, becoming needier as he came closer to cumming. He pulled your body into his, fucking up into you as he kissed the harsh line where the tie met your skin. The sensation was too much for you as you came, your walls squeezing Tom, milking his cock of all his cum as he came shortly after you.

Your body went limp, leaning against the desk so you didn’t fall to the floor. Tom sighed, pulling out of you, groaning when he saw his cum leaking out your abused hole. “You did so good” Tom whispered as he kissed up your spine, “Such a good girl for me”

You slowly got up, turning around to face him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom smiled, picking you up and moving you to the couch, where you sat cuddled in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, still placing kisses all over your body

“I’m cold” You said, your head resting against his shoulder. He chuckled, quickly grabbing his jacket from his chair before returning to your tired body. You laid in his lap with his jacket wrapped around you, Tom’s hand running up and down your spine as he kissed your forehead.

You glanced at the clock, “it’s getting late”

Tom sighed, “let’s just stay like this for a little while, then we’ll get you dressed and I’ll drive you to your dorm”

[angryschnauzer]

Bubbles

Summary: After a long hot day at work and a nightmare journey home, you find your husband has a very welcome and refreshing surprise for you in the form of a full size jacuzzi in your back garden.

Pairing: Captain Syverston x Female Reader Wife (no race or size mentioned)

Fandoms: Sand Castle (Movie), Henry Cavill.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Established Relationship, Semi Public Sex, Fingering, Oral (Female Receiving), Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Alcohol consumption.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications for future stories. All past works can be found on there or on my AO3.

Bubbles

It had been a long day. Work had been hot and sweaty, customers were grouchy and some even tried to pull the 'speak to the manager' bullshit, even though you were the manager. Traffic had been a nightmare, your car deciding that the middle of a heatwave would be the perfect time for the air conditioning to stop working, simultaneously with a truck of maple syrup hitting the central concrete barrier and spilling its sticky load. 

Snerk. You snorted a laugh through the sweat. Sticky load… your husband would have made a whole bunch of dirty comments and jokes about being covered in sticky loads. You couldn't wait to get home to see him, it was the fact that he had now retired from the Army and would be happily waiting for you at home every night that made each day worthwhile. 

When Sy had finally retired you'd wept tears of joy, every day was a blessing. You'd discussed what you were both going to do with jobs, your contract was up in 3 months time, Sy was drawing a military pension and had saved a considerable nest egg. He'd also taken to industrial upcycling; making lamps and coffee tables out of engines and car parts, which had been massively popular. You had to admit when you saw him in his workshop with his acetylene torch and welding mask on, cutting enormous chunks of metal in half and creating brutal beauty from the elements you were immediately turned on by the raw virility of the sight.

When you eventually pulled onto the driveway, a quick glance towards his workshop told you he'd finished for the day, and as you let yourself into your house you called out to him;

"Sy?"

"Out here" came his slightly muffled reply, and you realised he was probably sitting on the patio out back, nursing a beer.

"I'm gonna run upstairs and take a shower, the aircon in my car has stopped working"

"Darlin, come out here first… i got something that'll refresh you"

Rolling your eyes you started to unbutton your blouse;

"Really Sy, i'm all sweaty and stinky…"

"Woman…" he growled;  "I said get out here…"

If any other man had called you 'woman' you'd knocked them out, but you knew Sy and for him it was a term of endearment. Quietly walking through the kitchen you reached the back door and patio;

"Sy…" you started to speak, but was cut short when you saw what he'd been referring to.

Sat on the corner of your patio, shielded from view by the trellis covered in Clematis blooms was an inflatable hot tub, bubbling away with your mountain of a man sat in it, arms spread out on each side as he held a beer and grinned at you;

"Told ya' i had something that'd cool you down"

Pressing your hand to the side of it you tested the water, smiling when you found it the perfect temperature;

"You bought a hot tub?"

"Rented. Wanted to see if we liked it before we made the investment. Why don't you get in and give it a go?"

"Sure, i'll just go get changed into my bathing costume"

Sy's glinted with mischief;

"Why? I ain't wearing one…"

You weren't sure;

"Its rented? Is it clean?"

"Spent all afternoon flushing the system and giving it a full wipe down, even though the rental company says they do it after each use… i know how you are with hygiene" he moved in the massive tub, moving to the side where you stood;

 "Now are ya gonna get naked or am i gonna have to rip those clothes off of ya?"

A minute later you were climbing in, work clothes hastily discarded in a pile on the patio, Sy holding your hand as he guided you into the bubbly water and you immediately let out a long low moan as the jets of water soothed and massaged your weary body;

"Oh Sy… this feels amazing…"

"C'mere…"

His massive hands cradled your torso, pulling you through the water until you were able to straddle his lap, his mouth meeting yours for a fierce kiss. As your tongues danced together he smoothed his hands over your back, massaging the day's stresses away to the point where let your head tilt back. Resting in his strong arms you let your back touch the water, smiling as the warm summer breeze danced over your breasts, before that skilled mouth was on your breasts, sucking on one nipple then the other, before he shifted and you were floating on the water, his mouth on your pussy. 

You weren’t the tiniest of girls, but you had utter trust in Sy that he could hold you up whilst eating you out. The man would easily heave around 10 foot iron beam railroad tracks to make into coffee tables, he’d pushed his truck home when the engine had died and that is no mean feat when it comes to a Ford F350. So with that knowledge safe in your mind you could thoroughly relax and let his tongue work magic on your clit as his beard tickled your folds. You came with a cry and he swallowed down your essence, before lowering you into the water and onto his lap.

As he lowered you you felt his hardness seek you out, sliding through your folds before you reached down and positioned him at your entrance, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you let yourself be slowly impaled on his shaft. With the worries and stresses of the day easing away with each blissful bubble that popped on your skin you sought out his lips for another kiss as you started to ride him, the friction palatable as the noise of the motor covered the sighs and moans the two of you were making. Sy’s hands firmly gripped your ass, pulling you up and down on his gnarled shaft;

“Fuck… You look so fucking good riding me Darlin’. Definitely gonna get a permanent one of these installed… might get you a coupla’ white bikini’s as i’d love to see these titties through the soaked fabric, would be such a treat…” he grinned at you; “A titty treat…”

Grinning at him you squeezed your pelvic muscles, finally shutting him up so you could concentrate as you chased your orgasm;

“Sure Sy, i’ll get a white bikini… you want me to do the gardening in it too? Watching me on my hands and knees as i plant the petunia’s?”

“Woman, i’ll fucking take you from behind right on the lawn if you do that” he growled, thrusting his hips up sharply and finding your g-spot. One of his hands crept around your hip and between your bodies, seeking out your clit as he ran his calloused thumb over the sensitive nub. From the way he was bouncing you on his lap you could tell he was getting close, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold off from cumming, but with no luck. His hands gripped your hips to stop you from moving in the hope it’d delay his orgasm. You watched as his eyes rolled back in his head and his head fell back against the side of the spa, thrusting his hips up as he swore out a litany of curses as his body reached its peak before he’d have wanted to;

“Fuck fuck fuck… ah god… i’m sorry… fuck…”

Cradling the back of his head in your fingers you stroked at the short hair as you dipped your head down and pressed open mouthed kisses to his neck and shoulders. With his eyes still shut he pulled a hand out of the water and raked it down his face before looking up at you, his blue eyes sparkling;

“Ah fuck i’m sorry Darlin’... lemme see about getting you sorted…don’t get off just yet…”

He slid his hand back between your bodies, his thumb back on your clit. His other hand moved to your breasts, using his mouth on one nipple as he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger. Writhing on his lap you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, Sy knowing exactly how to play your body like a guitar as you sang out your siren song that was a blessing to his ears. 

As your orgasm washed over you Sy held you in his arms, letting you ride out your pleasure as he relished the feel of your body surrounding him. Slumped in his arms you nuzzled at his neck, happily riding the waves of pleasure that echoed around your body. 

“You ok there Darlin’?” Sy purred, smoothing his massive palm over your back like a giant bear paw.

“Hmmn” you hummed, stopping mid response when you felt him shift and realised he was hard again; “Sy?”

He looked at you, a smirk on his face as he cocked an eyebrow;

“Darlin… you know when i blow my load real fast i’m ready for another round… your sweet little pussy massaged me back to full health” he pressed a kiss to your nose; “Now turn around and bend over, hand on the side… i’m gonna rail that juicy pussy from behind, see how many times i can make you cum before i shoot load number two”

Manhandling you in the water you let out a shriek as he thrust into you from behind, your walls still tight from your previous orgasm and he did exactly as promised, splitting you open from behind as his powerful thighs railed you harder than the transcontinental express. With his heavy ballsack slapping against your clit you were soon cumming again, Sy fucking you straight through it before he brought you to another orgasm soon after as he filled you with another sticky load.

As you both tried to recover from the energetic synchronised aquatics he pulled you flush with his chest as he sank down into the water, letting you lay back against his chest as your bodies were still joined. His hands skimmed over your torso beneath your breasts, cupping them tenderly;

“We’re getting one of these, right Darlin’?”

“Hmmm, absolutely”

You sat there for a good half hour, cradled in Sy’s arms as you told each other about your day, before your skin wrinkled and it was time to get out.

-

Later that evening Sy had driven the pair of you to the main hardware store in town that he’d rented the Spa from, and you’d ordered the parts and equipment for your very own one. As Sy had started getting deep into conversation with the sales guy who turned out had also recently retired from the Army you tugged on Sy’s sleeve;

“Honey, i’m gonna pop to Walmart next door”

“Sure thing Darlin, i’ll catch up with you in fifteen minutes”

Just as promised Sy found you fifteen minutes later as you browsed through the clothing section, and you spotted that he was swinging a small clothes hangar from his finger;

“What you got there?” you asked

Sy held it up and your eyes practically bulged out of your head; He had found the tiniest white bikini, that although was your size, was little more than three small triangles of fabric connected with the thinnest of strings;

“Exactly what we discussed… now i see ya got a bottle of tequila and some snacks, how about we head home and we can test this out?”

Grinned you nodded;

“Just one thing…”

“Yeah Darlin?”

“We need to grab a few more of those… there’s no way that is gonna survive one wear with you around”

Nodding in agreement Sy grinned, taking the basket from your hand as he wrapped his free arm around your shoulders;

“See, that’s why i married ya’, thinking ahead…”

He pressed a kiss to your hair as he led you back to the display of swimwear, grinning as you pulled out numerous other cheap pieces of swimwear, knowing full well Sy would destroy them as thoroughly as he destroys your pussy.

[pennylanewrites]

※strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring※

Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

Minors DNI! pls go eat some frozen yoghurt:(

description: Jean makes a perfect picnic basket for his fiancée, but the picnic date plans get forgotten when the hot weather makes you dizzy and needy for him.

word count: 2.2k

genre: soft smut, fluffy domestic sex

contains: established relationship, outside sex, unprotected sex, breeding, handjob if you squint, talks of pregnancy, not proofread oops

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Jean looked so pretty, placing hand-picked cherries on a platter, his baby blue polo shirt tight on his biceps. He hummed a tune as he took a picnic basket out of the kitchen door, heading into your backyard. You watched him come to you with a smile, and he admired the sight in front of him. You, laid down on a blue blanket in a short peach-coloured sundress, bare legs tickled by grass blades.

"You look lovely." He complimented you as he sat down next to you and left a kiss on your shoulder.

"You too, love." You returned the gesture and left a kiss on his own shoulder before he took everything out of the picnic basket, setting it in front of you.

"So, how was your day at work?" He asked as he slowly filled two champagne glasses with a sparkling pink drink from the champagne bottle hidden in the cooler.

"Tiring. Our air conditioner was broken today." You pouted, gladly accepting the glass. "What did you do?"

"I was planning this date for us," he took your hand in his, admiring the shiny ring sitting proudly on your ring finger, "and I was thinking of doing something different."

"Good thinking. This is much better than going out on a restaurant." You praised his choice on a picnic in your home's backyard.

"Here's to us." He raised his glass, clinking it with yours carefully before you both took a sip, feeling refreshed by the prickly strawberry taste.

   Everything felt so peaceful; birds chirping, flying over you, a squirrel playing in the bird fountain you had placed under the shade of a tree. The pool was clean and the water looked so inviting, but maybe a different day. For now, you were eyeing the cherries on the blanket. Jean didn't fail to notice, bringing one up to your lips. You parted your lips, taking one in your mouth before feeding another to the brunette.

"Are you happy, Jean?"

"In general?" He gave you a small smile, surprised by the sudden question. You nodded, waiting for his reply. "Very happy. You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I have you. That's all I needed since the day I met you." Sweet words melted into your skin as he peppered kisses up your neck and jaw until his lips met yours.

"Do you ever think that you need more?"

"Like...one more fiancée?"

"Jean!" You hit his torso with a giggle before he wrapped his arms around you, laying you down next to him. Hand in your hair, the other stroking your upper arm, he looked into your eyes and saw his world.

"I love you, ___."

"I love you too." You smiled before kissing Jean, eyes feeling heavy due to the high temperature of that afternoon in May.

Your hands trailed from his cheeks to his torso, unbuttoning the top button of the polo that clung to his body. He chuckled at your eagerness, giving you the chance to slip your tongue in his mouth, feeling the tart taste of the cherries you fed him.

"I love you so much, Jean." You broke the kiss and he easily pulled you on his lap by your hips. Looking down at him, you swept a strand of hair behind his ear, feeling his hands trail to the curve of your ass.

"Babe, it's too hot for you to be on top of me."

"Take your shirt off then." You whispered in his ear, giggling. The mixing of champagne with the almost insufferable heat made you dizzy and...needy. You always needed Jean by your side, but now especially, you simply couldn't wait.

"You don't have to say that twice." He chuckled and you leaned up for him to do the same and take his shirt off. He left it by the forgotten picnic basket, watching you admire his abs, his chiseled torso, and a scar on his side from a fun childhood. Despite knowing and dating Jean for no less than 6 years and no more than 7, you couldn't get enough of his body, his pretty face, everything about him made you feel like a teenager again.

   He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, bringing you back to reality. Another kiss on your lips and you had him laying down again, slowly grinding against his crotch.

"Out here?" He looked at you surprised, then looked around. The tall fence and the hedges around it were enough to keep you concealed and there wasn't any house right next to yours either.

"Either this or carry me inside." You shrugged, continuing to leave soft pecks on his neck and collarbones.

"Silly. I'm saving that for our wedding night." His words once again had you melting in his arms.

"Jean, I need you."

"You got me sweetheart." He kissed you again before his hands bunched your dress up on your hips, leaving you exposed to the warm breeze and to his hands.

   Fingers barely grazing your sweet spot, lips sucking on your neck, your hands messing with his hair, lips letting out a whine at the teasing before his fingers pulled on the elastic band of your underwear, urging you to remove them. You did so easily, getting back on Jean's lap in seconds.

   His lips found your collarbones, where a dainty golden chain with his initial fell. Your hands met with the belt around his jeans, unbuckling it and unzipping his pants awfully slow. You pushed his jeans and boxers down just a bit as he raised his hips to help you. Your chest met his again as he kissed you passionately, and your hand slowly trailed down his abs, over the trimmed brown hairs, making him gasp into your mouth when you wrapped your hand around his cock. Already half-hard, it didn't take him long to get to his full girth, especially when your fingers moved so perfectly around him, his member coated with precum in minutes.

   Another groan escaped his lips when you bucked your hips against his own, crotches meeting with anticipation.

"You're killing me, ___." He muttered as he bit down your neck and shoulder, tongue swirling against where he bit to soothe the sting. You kept grinding against his hard cock until he finally had enough.

   You found yourself under Jean with one swift move, and the lustful, loving look in his honey-coloured eyes had you melting again. Dress bunched up over your hips, the straps falling down your shoulders, his initial sitting pretty on your marked collarbones, Jean found you ethereal. And he wanted to show you in every way possible.

"I love you. So, so much." He whispered in your ear sweetly before kissing the spot behind it, where he knew it tickled. You giggled and squirmed against his warm touch, sending butterflies in his stomach and making him feel like a schoolboy again. His index and middle finger trailed down your puffy clit, to your slit, where his fingers entered easily to prep you for his cock.

   It was getting hard for both of you to kiss each other, it was more teeth hitting against each other and tongues playing inside your mouth, because his fingers curled up inside you, knuckles touching the perfect spots to make you moan out his name.

"Jean, please. I need more." You pleaded, back arching to make your torso collide with his.

"Whatever you want, baby. I'll give it to you." He kissed your forehead, hand caressing your hair as the other held on your hip for leverage.

   Your hole welcomed Jean's cock, though it was always difficult at first. He barely stretched you out as he slowly fit more and more of him inside you, but the way your walls clenched around him made it hard for him to contain himself. You tapped on his shoulder, making him know it was okay. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and earning a grunt from his beautiful pink lips.

   Jean bucked his hips against yours, beginning to thrust into you, making sure your whines were of a good nature and he wasn't hurting you in any way. When he was sure, from the way your fingernails dig into the sun-kissed skin on his back, he picked up the pace.

"Jean-aaah! Jean, faster. Please?" He opened his eyes to look at you; your face was flushed and a bead of sweat was trickling down your temple. He swept it away with the pad of his thumb before leaning down and kissing your lips softly.

   However soft his kiss was, his thrusts were the complete opposite. Jean pulled out of you almost completely, leaving your hole to clench around his tip, before he pushed his cock in again. You didn't have the time to react, because every time he did so, he went faster, until he was all the way inside you, hips pushing against yours and a hand cupping your face to kiss you again.

"I love you so much. God -fuck- you're taking me so well." He tilted his head back, mouth agape at the sensation. You could feel his member twitch inside you, knowing he was close to cumming. You entangled your fingers with his hair, playing with it as you moaned out his name.

"Jean, I'm so -so close-" you arched your back even more, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, not allowing him to pull out.

“Me too sweetheart..Ah, fuck-you feel so good!” His praises went straight south, sending you in a trance as you felt your orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Jean, I want to have your babies!” You blurted out between heavy breaths and moans. Jean stopped momentarily, way too surprised by your confession, but you were too fucked out to notice.

His face softened, and his whole body flushed red as the realization hit. He had been talking about family a lot, and it was something he definitely wanted with you, but every time you had that conversation you cut him off with a ‘we don’t have enough money’. Jean had spent quite a few hours of his life worrying and questioning if you really wanted a family.

“Why did you sto-” You looked up, bringing a hand over your eyes to shield them from the sun. Jean looked like he had gone stupid, with a smile from ear to ear and a few tears threatening to leave his eyes. You pulled him down and kissed his happy tears away, starting to move your hips against his own. He shook his head with a chuckle and started where he had left off, continuing to rock his hips against you, cock buried deep inside you.

“Gonna put a baby in you...fuck- I’m gonna make you a mommy, angel.” It didn’t take him long to cum, especially after he looked down to where your crotches met, only to see his cock coated white with your juices. Your orgasm reached you the moment Jean moaned in your ear; he knew all too well how much you loved his moans. The knot buried deep in your stomach came undone and you could scream out of pleasure. You heard yourself babbling about babies and how good Jean felt, but neither you or Jean could make out any words, too high on the feeling.

You could feel Jean shoot a load of his hot cum as far in your cunt as his cock could reach, pushing the white liquid in you with his slow thrusts. His head fell on your shoulder, hair sticking to his forehead and breath hot on your skin.

“God, I love you.” He whispered into your neck. You tried keeping your breath steady as he slowly pulled out of you. He turned over and reached into the picnic basket, taking two cotton towels out and pouring water out of a glass bottle on them. He used one of them to run it up your cunt and thighs, making sure you were clean, then brought the other to your sticky with sweat residue face, watching you lovingly as he patted the cold towel on your temples. You took it out of his hands and did the same to his own face, pushing his hair back to cool him down.

“So, when can you take a pregnancy test?” He asked after he made himself comfortable inside your arms, one of his own meeting your stomach and rubbing it mindlessly.

“In a week, if we want it to be accurate.”

“That’s too long!” He whined, looking at you with furrowed brows. You laughed and brought your face closer to his to kiss the wrinkle between his eyebrows and make him relax.

“You’re going to be the best daddy ever.”

“I can’t wait, angel.” He nuzzled his head in the soft skin between your shoulder and neck, both of you feeling sleepy as the sun started setting behind the mountains. Yawning into your hand, you wrapped your arms around your fiancé tighter, closing your eyes and taking in the peaceful moments before he had to go to work again.

“I love you.” He whispered before falling asleep with a smile on his beautiful tanned face.

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Happy Father’s Day to Jean Kirstein, the only man whose babies I’d gladly carry<3

[lsholland]

London Lights (pt. 1) - Tom Holland

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (1st person)

Genre: Party!Tom

Warnings: swearing; alcohol; nothing much but I don’t recommend -18 to read.

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: Hey guys! That’s my first story on this blog. I hope you’ll like it. I’m not native so there may be a few mistakes. I’m trying a new genre of fiction. It’s my first Tom Holland fiction. It’ll be a series of 2-3 chapters. If you want to be part of the master list for Tom please like this post and message me. 

Synopsis: Quarantine has been tough. I’ve lost my boyfriend, and I’m feeling lonely. Clubs and restaurants are open again, but I feel like it’ll never be like it used to. My friends have been pushing me to install Tinder and go on dates. Well, tonight, I’m going on a date. I don’t really want to but I’m going to try and have fun for once. Just a few drinks and I’ll go home. What else could happen?

PS. You can read the story on Wattpad.

What am I doing here? I think to myself.

I matched with this guy on this famous dating app . . . And now I'm supposed to meet him here, at this bar. But I don't want to. I'm just hoping he won't show up so I can escape from this shit-place.

I've been seated at the table for a good 5 minutes. The waitress cleans up the table next to mine and asks if I'm ready to order.

No, I want to leave.

I quickly glance at the drinks menu.

"Ehm . . . A pour over Irish coffee, please."

She nods and leaves. I don't even know what I just ordered. I hope it tastes good. Hopefully it'll make me drunk enough not to remember this awful date.

It hasn't even started yet.

I'm sweating.

"Hey there" says a husky voice right behind me.

I turn around and see my date. His name is Jordan. He's good-looking and I bet he's intelligent, but I don't have this feeling with him. I don't know why I accepted to go on a date in the first place. It's awkward.

"Hey!" I grin.

"Have you ordered something already?" he asks, touching his short, clean beard. "I'm thirsty!"

He looks nice.

*

The waitress hands me my third drink. They help the clock tick a little faster.

He's been talking about his job, his passions. He loves football and practises daily. He has 2 sisters and lives in Camberwell.

Cute.

For a moment, I feel sad for him. He drove all the way to this East London bar, put effort trying to look nice and being cool . . . and yet, he doesn't know it but he has no chance to get lucky tonight. Not with me.

I shouldn't be sorry.

But I am.

I glance around looking for something that might be a little more entertaining than him. I realise I've avoided eye contact since he arrived. I finally glimpse at him. He has beautiful hazel eyes.

Still not enough.

I quickly check my phone. It's getting late. I don't know how to end this.

"Look," I slightly bend over the table. "I'm so sorry but I don't feel like it tonight"

"I noticed." He smirked. "Kinda awkward, innit?"

I chuckle. I am so embarrassed.

"It's okay, though." He added. "I'm just trying to meet new people. I broke up with my ex-girlfriend a few weeks ago. My mates told me I should try these apps."

Okay, now I feel worse than ever. He's been so nice with me and that's how I treat him. I grab my drink and gulp it down.

I shouldn't have done this.

"Let's go dance. I owe you one." I say as I grab his hand and walk towards the dancing area. It becomes difficult to keep my head straight.

I'm drunk, I must admit.

I'm going to regret it, my sober-self shouts in my head.

I don't care is what I reply.

The dancing area is not crowded, but there are already a few people. Most of them are girls.

Girls . . . I wish my friends were not so busy all the time. I would've come to this bar with them instead of wasting my time with strangers.

I start dancing. I stare at him. He looks amused.

A group of guys join the dancefloor and all the girls on my right start screaming. It's so high pitched I cringe.

"What the fuck guys?" I shout, trying to focus on the music.

"Woah, that's Spider-Man!" says my date. He grabs my chin and makes me look in his direction.

No way, I think. It's actually him.

I know he lives in the area, but I've never met him before. It's always weird to see movie stars in real life. They look so much more attractive.

He is so much more attractive.

I try not to be a drunk fangirl and shyly wave to him. He doesn't notice.

"You wanna go and take a picture with him?" my date asks.

"Oh, no, no!" I answer. I'm blushing. "I don't even know what I'd tell him."

He laughs.

The worst thing that could happen is to annoy him during a night out. He needs privacy and I must respect it.

But it's so difficult.

I can't stop staring at him. I don't even control it. Being drunk doesn't help.

"D'you want a beer?" I ask my date whose name I completely forgot.

He nods.

I weave my way through the crowd. I can't believe there are so many people on the dancefloor. The area is so busy since the Spider-Man actor walked in.

Even the bar area is crowded.

I let my body rest against a barstool but quickly lose balance and almost fall on the dirty floor. The flickering lights are making me feel dizzy. I grip the counter and get up. I peer around to make sure nobody saw me.

He did.

I dust off my dress trying to save the dignity I have left.

"Want something?" someone asks behind me. I turn around, it's the barman.

"Two pints of Guinness, please."

I glance back at the same spot, but he's gone. It must've been a dream. I'm so drunk I can't trust everything I think I see.

I'm grabbing both my drinks and look around trying to find my date, but there are too many people. I take a sip of my beer and hold the other one above my head.

Someone hits my arm.

Oh no.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry!" yells the drunk blond girl.

I look at my dress. It's soaking wet. I politely smile at her. "It's okay," I mouth.

What a mess. I glance at the lavatory door. I need to go and save my dress.

"You haven't been lucky here."

I turn around to find out who's talking to me.

It's him. Tom Holland. Talking to me.

"What?" is all I manage to say.

"Do you need a hand?" he politely asks.

I blush so much it's noticeable in the dark.

I'm choking. I'm panicking.

I give him my two beers and walk towards the lavatory. I'm surely starstruck. And drunk. This isn't a good mix.

Once in the room, I grab a handful of tissues and try to soak up my dress. I groan. Did I expect to make that beer mark disappear? Yes. Did it work? Of course not.

I watch my face in the mirror.

I look like shit, I think.

A door slams shut. Two young girls just walked in.

"OH, MY G—THAT'S TOM HOLLAND!" shouts one. They are both panting.

I roll my eyes.

Oh . . . I've given him my beers. What about my date?

"Shit!" I hiss.

I violently open the door and frown my eyebrows as the lights blind me.

He's just here gazing at me. Two beers in his hands. One of them is half empty, the rest being displayed on my dress.

"I'm so sorry!" I say embarrassed as ever.

He smirks. "No worries." He hands me the full glass of beer.

I give him a questioning look as I grab it. What about the other one? Oh, right—He's drinking it.

"What's your na—"

I stop him.

"I know who you are." I peer down. "I'm sorry I didn't wanna disturb you" I say as I'm walking away.

This time I'm smart enough to avoid the crowd on my way out.

"That's rude to leave without saying goodbye!" Tom shouts from a distance.

I turn around and stare at him. He's got a soft smile; he doesn't look drunk at all. I wave him goodbye.

Now, he's approaching me.

"I meant to your boyfriend" he nods in the direction of my date who was dancing with a group of other people.

"He's not my—" is all I can say before he chuckles.

"I figured."

"How?" I clench my jaw. I'm hypnotised by his hand running through his hair. And his smile. And his lips.

"I can barely hear you," he points at a booth in the corner of the room "maybe we could sit there" he suggests.

My mouth softens into a smile.

It's difficult to walk with Tom Holland. Every couple of seconds he's stopped by fans requesting a picture. And he accepts every time.

I'd never be so patient.

"What's that?" he asks.

"It must be so annoying sometimes." I tell him as I sit on the booth.

"When they're nice and ask me, it's cool." He chooses to sit next to me. I can feel his arm touching mine. My heart is racing. He uses his other arm to hold his chin; he looks at me with so much intensity. Sometimes peering down my lips.

His face is so close, but he keeps talking. I can feel his breath on my skin. I'm going to burst into flames. "But when they're taking pictures without asking first, that's delicate."

I nod. I can't really listen to what he's talking about. I'm trying not to lose control.

"So, what's your name?"

He smiles when I tell him. "Why did you leave your date alone?" he asks.

I'm so nervous I stutter. I can't find my words. "I . . . I wasn't in the mood. He knows it. I shouldn't have come here."

"I'm happy you came." He says looking me in the eyes.

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you flirting with me?"

He barks out a laugh and breaks the eye contact. He rests his head on the wall behind us.

He isn't as confident as I thought he'd be. I don't know what's up with him, but I enjoy it.

I suddenly remember he's a movie star. He's always being watched. I glance at the crowd and see flashing lights. They're taking pictures of us.

I'm getting dizzier.

I don't want to see my face on a dumb article talking about Tom Holland's mysterious partner. I don't even know him.

"This is stupid" I mumble.

Tom is intrigued. He hasn't got a clue what I'm talking about. He hasn't even noticed the fans stalking him.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go" I abruptly say as I stand up. "Have a good night."

I grab my phone and leave the venue. I'm upset because I really wish I could've met him in a different context. I open my Uber app: there's no driver available.

Shit.

How's that even possible on a Friday night? In London?

I refresh the app, but it doesn't work. I guess I'll have to walk home.

A part of me wants to go back in this bar and spend time with Tom. He's sweet and I'm sure we would've had so much fun together. I glance through the window trying to see his face one last time, but I can't find him.

"What are you looking for?"

I cringe.

"Oh, sorry I didn't mean to startle you."

It's him. It's Tom.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Going home too. The fun of the party is leaving . . ." he sighs. I smile back at him. I'm embarrassed.

I stand in front of him, none of us say a word. It's awkward. I'm getting anxious and walk away. I'm so overwhelmed.

He grabs my shoulder. "Wait, are you walking home?"

"Yeah, it's okay don't worry." I smile.

"I can drive you home."

"Sorry, but you've been drinking. I won't let you drive me." I curtly say.

He grins. He looks at one of his mates and nods.

"No way I'm letting you walk home alone," he sighs "besides, you're drunk."

"Come with me then" I instantly reply without thinking.

He nods.

What?

He's coming with me. My heart is racing. I won't survive a 30-minute drunk walk with him.

Not with his beautiful glossy eyes staring at me.

Not with my burning desire to kiss him.

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. I - Jab

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 4k REQUESTED: not exactly lol

hey everyone! this is PART 1 of the boxer!harry AU i’ve been working on. i was so inspired by this concept that i wrote it all in one day lol. if u enjoy reading it, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated! it really helps in terms of motivation and just knowing how my readers feel about this story in general. so yeah, that would really make my month!

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, go stupid go dumb! my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio, for anyone who would like to check out my other fics or who feels like chatting. can’t wait to hear your thoughts 💘💘💘

~*~

    January 7, 2021

All of Harry’s teeth are still intact.

For now, at least.

He knows that mouthguards exist—there’s one tucked between his lips every single time he enters the ring. But even then…sometimes punches go awry. Sometimes your opponent dodges at the last second. Sometimes people end up with a mouthful of leather and a few loose incisors. He always keeps one fist near his chin, shielding the lower half of his face from any blows that come his way.

Speaking of blows coming his way…

He ducks away from the straight jab that the man throws—The Wall, they call him. Harry had rolled his eyes when the nickname boomed across the room, soon lost in the roar of the crowd.

He’s never been one for flashy introductions. He prefers to let his technique speak for itself. His brand is his name. Harry Styles. Simple, concise, and so utterly deceiving. He loves watching the smile melt from his opponent’s face, basks in the moment when they realise that he’s tougher than his name suggests.

The Wall jabs again, and Harry successfully dodges the punch. He doesn’t register the other fist hooking around, however, until the blunt front of the man’s glove makes contact with the side of his head. Usually, a blow like that wouldn’t even faze him. But the sheer force behind the hit knocks him off-balance, stumbling to the side as he loses his footing and inhaling sharply when his shoulder collides with the ground.

The yells from the crowd are deafening. Harry coughs, trying to guide air back into his lungs. When he blinks, black spots dance across his vision. Subconsciously, his eyes trace a path upward, past the floor, past his opponent’s feet, past the ropes encompassing the ring. Higher and higher, still, past jeering faces and sloshing beer bottles and grungy eye makeup. All the way to the top of the bleachers, to the exit—to you.

That’s been your unofficial spot for the past two years. Once you turned twenty, your father finally gave in, allowing you to attend Harry’s matches in exchange for the cessation of your endless badgering. You always stand near the door, observing the commotion with thoughtful eyes and puckered lips. Despite himself, Harry has started to think of you as his lucky charm. It’s dangerous—he always swore that he wouldn’t be one of those overly-superstitious athletes—but he can’t help it. He just seems to perform better when you’re around.

Through the rocky field of his vision, he can see just how wide your eyes have grown. There’s an unmistakable look of concern on your face as you watch the fight unfold. Your hand finds its way to the base of your throat, playing nervously with the rose-gold pendant resting there. You crane your neck to get a better view of the ring, your pupils flitting back and forth between Harry and the frighteningly large man looming over him.

A warm rush of adrenaline floods Harry’s veins. The saliva that has gathered in his mouth tastes stale on his tongue. He spits it out as he staggers to his feet. The crowd grows louder, somehow.

The Wall’s smile shrinks as Harry assumes his previous position; his hands orient themselves in front of his face. His opponent gnashes his teeth, seemingly annoyed with the fact that the match has not ended. Harry shakes off the dizziness clouding his brain, and then he’s lunging forward with a newfound sense of determination. He throws punch after punch, sidestepping The Wall’s returning attempts. All he can think about is the fact that you’re up there, watching, waiting, worrying. He never wants to see you like that again.

You’re his goddamn lucky charm.

His victory comes in the form of an uppercut followed immediately by a nasty right hook. The Wall—this big, towering man with bulging biceps and rippling pectorals��crumples to the ground. Harry waits, his chest heaving with exertion as the countdown begins. He’s prepared to watch his opponent rise again, to shift back into a fighting stance and start over. But as the seconds trickle by and The Wall remains motionless on the ground, he soon finds the tension in his body seeping out into the hot, sticky air.

His shoulders sag in relief as a single promising word echoes through the grimy arena.

“Knockout!”

~*~

The crowd thins out considerably in the ten minutes following the termination of the match. Harry stumbles out of the ring, sliding through the ropes and pulling his mouthguard from between his lips. Your father is waiting for him with a smile on his face, holding out an arm and helping him jump down from the raised platform.

“Well done, H,” he says, patting his back proudly.

Harry pants and nods. Your father holds out a reusable water bottle for him to take—he accepts it graciously and gulps down the cold liquid with fat, greedy slurps. Once he pulls the nozzle away from his mouth, he runs the back of his hand over his face to catch any stray droplets that have collected on his chin.

“Thanks, Coach.”

“You took a pretty hard fall, there,” your father says, guiding him to sit down on a bench propped up against the wall. “Medic’s in the back. He’s checking out Aaron right now, but you’re next.” He taps his index finger against Harry’s temple. “We’ve got to make sure everything’s alright up there.”

Harry sucks in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Who the fuck is Aaron?”

“Oh.” Your father laughs. “Aaron. The Wall. Whatever you want to call him.”

Harry frowns. “Don’t like that. Makes him sound like a dick.”

A new voice enters the conversation.

“That’s because he is.”

Harry’s head snaps to the side, and there you are.

You look nice, as usual. There’s something about you that he can never seem to properly describe. You always look so…clean. If he tried to vocalize his thoughts, he’s sure that you would look at him like he was crazy.

But in his head, it makes sense. You take care of yourself. Your nails are spotless, your hair smells good, and he knows that you must dab spritzes of perfume onto your pulse points before you leave the house, because a fresh scent follows you wherever you go. Even now, as you stand a few feet away with your hands on your hips, he catches it on a deep inhale. Not flowery, not fruity, just…clean. Refreshing. Light. Breezy.

Your father snaps him out of his reverie, and he realises that he should probably stop listing every word in the thesaurus.

“How do you know?” Your father’s inquiry is curious. He shoots you a puzzled look, his mouth curling down into a soft scowl.

You roll your eyes. “Called me ‘sweet thing’ before the match started and asked me if I was the prize,” you say, sticking your tongue out in disdain. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Harry’s lips twitch.

Your father chuckles. “That’s my girl.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “What time are we leaving?” you ask. The question is directed at your father, who is fiddling with the drawstrings hanging from his sweater. “I was hoping to study a bit more before bed.”

“Soon, gioia,” your father says. “As soon as Harry gets checked out, we’ll be on our way.”

You nod, and—for what feels like the first time since you cut into the interaction—you glance down at Harry. “Hi,” you say softly, shooting him a small, friendly smile.

He meets your gaze for only a moment. Everything about you is so gentle. Your irises are like melted pots of honey, regarding him with such warmth he feels like he’ll never be cold again. “Hi.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you murmur. Harry wants to bottle your voice and save it as a keepsake. “You made a great comeback.”

Because of you, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. “Thank you,” he offers up instead, the words scraping against the roof of his mouth and tumbling unceremoniously into the air between you.

A moment of silence ensues as you wait for him to say something—anything—else. But he’s done. You nod once before turning back to your father, who is tweaking the settings of the watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Do you know where the washrooms are?” you ask. You toy absentmindedly with the necklace hanging from your throat. “I need to pee.”

“You can use the one in the women’s locker room,” your father tells you, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Around the corner, first door on the left.”

“Thanks,” you say, slipping by and pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He just nods in agreement, still too preoccupied with his watch.

Harry, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk away. He takes note of the way that you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you shoulder the strap of your purse to keep it from slipping down your arm, how you walk with a purpose despite being so moderate and kind. His gaze falls momentarily to the sway of your hips, the enticing nature of your waist. He stares for a long moment before tearing away, clearing his throat and blinking a few times in quick succession.

“Proud of you, H,” your father pipes up, tapping the face of his watch twice before dropping his arm with a sigh. “You did well out there.”

“Thanks,” Harry mutters. A spark of guilt flares up in his chest when he realises that he had been blatantly ogling you with your father standing only a few feet off to the side. He silently berates himself, shaking his head free of any alluring thoughts.

Your father’s phone chirps with the arrival of a new notification. He fishes the device out of his pocket and glances down at the screen.

“Let’s go,” he tells Harry, jerking his head to the right. “Medic’s ready for you, now.”

    January 13, 2021

“C’mon, H, be smart with it! Watch how he angles himself!”

And Harry’s trying, really, but Arthur—or Artie, as your father likes to call him—is a hunkering titan of a man. He used to be your father’s star athlete before retiring, and now…now he’s working in finance, or something akin to that. Harry isn’t one hundred percent sure; he usually zones out when people begin to discuss the stock market.

Artie throws a right hook, but Harry sees it coming and blocks it with ease. They move in a circle, focussed only on each other while other individuals outside of the ring totter around.

Harry prefers to train on weekdays during the afternoon, because that’s when the gym isn’t as packed. Right now, only a handful of other people are working out, lifting weights or doing cardio exercises. Harry and Artie are here so often that nobody even blinks an eye anymore. And your father…well, he runs the place. Of course he would be here.

The sparring continues. When Harry refuses to make the first move, Artie sticks one glove out, beckoning him forward. “Come here, pretty boy.”

“Don’t make me pull your hair,” Harry grits, because Artie’s ponytail is swinging temptingly from beneath his headgear.

The other man laughs good-naturedly before lunging. Harry blocks his uppercut and delivers a strong, pointed jab right to the middle of his chest. Artie stumbles backward, inhaling sharply as the breath is knocked from his lungs. Harry bites back a smile.

“Nice, H!” your father calls.

“Thanks, Coach,” he mutters.

The front door of the gym opens, accompanied by the soft tinkling of a bell to announce the new arrival. Harry’s attention is reflexively drawn toward the direction of the sound, and his heartbeat stutters beneath his ribs.

You’re there, with your hair tied back in a low bun and silver hoops hanging from your ears. You’re holding a tray of coffee in your left hand, and there’s a warm smile on your face. You wave excitedly as you greet Portia, the middle-aged woman sitting behind the front desk. The two of you chat as you shrug off your jacket and tug the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your mouth moves languidly. Though Harry is too far to hear your voice, he has a pretty good idea of what you’re saying. Your eyes widen and you shiver dramatically, shaking your head.

It’s cold!

A heavy fist makes contact with the side of his jaw, and he falls to the ground.

Your father’s loud exclamation pulls your attention away from Portia and toward the ring on the opposite end of the room. Harry groans lowly as he pushes himself to his knees, tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck. When he turns to face your father, he finds him frowning through the gaps between the ropes.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, shooting Harry a disappointed look.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, climbing to his feet with a grunt. “Got distracted.”

He chances a glance back at you, and his shoulders grow tense when he realises that you’re making your way over to the ring, the tray of coffee held between your hands like a peace offering.

“Hello, boys,” you singsong. “I brought drinks.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” your father says as you hand him his designated cup. He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. You hum happily in response.

“Jason!” you call out as Artie approaches the side of the ring. “I got your lemonade.”

“Thanks, little girl,” Artie hums, accepting his drink graciously and taking a long sip from the straw. “And for the hundredth time, stop calling me ‘Jason’.”

“Stop calling me ‘little girl’,” you shoot back, laughing deviously. “I can’t help it if you look like him, okay? You’re even the same age, too.” You cock one eyebrow. “Should I start calling you ‘Aquaman’ instead?”

“God, no.” Artie shakes his head vehemently. “Let’s stick to Jason. ’Least that’s a real name.”

You giggle as he ambles away. Your eyes shift over to Harry—who has kept silent the entire time—and your lips curl up into a kind smile. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi.” His voice is guttural.

“Last, but not least,” you murmur, plucking his drink from the tray and holding it up for him to take. “One black coffee, right?”

“Right,” he confirms with a curt nod. He tugs his bulky gloves off, dropping them to the floor and reaching out to accept the cup. A strong spark pricks at his hand when his fingers brush against yours. Your responding gasp is soft, barely-noticeable—if he weren’t so painfully aware of everything you do, he would have missed it completely.

“Thank you,” he says, guiding the coffee to his mouth and taking a small sip.

“No problem.” You smile up at him again, and God, that fucking smile. He wants it tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids. A wave of heat blooms in his chest and creeps up his neck, but thankfully, the pink flush blends in with his sweat-slicked, already-rosy skin.

“How was class, sweetheart?” your father asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It was good.” You shrug, tossing a thumb over your shoulder. “I’m going to head home now, though—I have a proposal due in a few days and I really need to get started.”

“Go, go,” your father concedes. You bid him goodbye before standing on your tiptoes and craning your neck to catch sight of Artie, who is quite evidently enjoying his lemonade.

“Bye, Jason!”

“Bye, little girl!”

You laugh. Your gaze lands on Harry again, eyes sparkling and features resolutely tender. “Bye, Harry.”

He swallows down the hard lump in his throat. “Bye.”

    January 16, 2021

Harry’s workout playlist features a lot of Ariana Grande.

He just thinks that she’s good, okay?

But he knows that Artie and your father would never let him hear the end of it, so he keeps that information private. During practice, he’ll endure whatever shitty tunes Artie picks from his own library, and he won’t say a word. He’s not in the ring to dance, anyway. He’s there to make money—albeit illegally—because quite frankly, he hasn’t discovered an aptitude for anything else.

It’s late—the gym is technically closed. But the great thing about having the owner for a coach is the fact that Harry was given another key to add to his collection. Your father doesn’t care, as long as he locks up after he’s done. Harry has spent more time here than at his own home, he imagines. It’s nice when it’s quiet—it gives him plenty of time to think.

The back of his t-shirt is soaked through with sweat. He’s gazing at the ceiling as he lifts the heavy weights up and down over his torso. A bubbly song is playing on his phone, keeping his energy high.

So what if he listens to Ariana Grande? She makes great music.

The distinctive sound of footsteps reaches his ears. He pauses, setting the weightlifting bar back onto its rack and sitting up quickly. The noise is coming from the stairs that lead down to the swimming pool in the basement. Harry stands, and though his muscles are already screaming from previous exertion, he readies himself for the worst.

You appear at the top of the flight, your slippers smacking against each step loudly. You’re ruffling a towel against your wet hair, your head angled to the side as you squeeze out any excess water. Upon catching sight of Harry, you freeze in your tracks.

“Oh. Harry. Hi.”

“Hi,” he says slowly. “I…didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” you reply wryly, a small smirk making its way onto your lips.

Harry scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Er…I was just working out.”

You nod, your expression coy. “I can see that.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air. Harry clears his throat, rubbing his jaw with his fingers because what else is he supposed to do? “Were you—did you go for a swim?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your shoulders deflate, like you’re almost grateful that he’s contributed more to the conversation. “Spent half the time doing laps, and the other half on my phone.” Your lips quirk up with the feeble joke.

Harry chuckles weakly. “That’s just how it is, sometimes.”

Your eyes flutter shut for only a moment. “Yeah.”

More silence. Harry chews nervously on his bottom lip. Why the fuck can’t he speak?

The song playing from his phone changes. Your eyes narrow ever-so-slightly when a few upbeat notes trickle into the air, followed immediately by the smooth crooning of a woman’s voice. “Is this…,” you hesitate, and he can see how you’re fighting a smile, “…Carly Rae Jepsen?”

“Uh,” he says dumbly, uncertain of how to proceed. Sure enough, I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen is filtering through the taut atmosphere, painfully loud now that the two of you are truly paying attention to it.

A high-pitched laugh falls from your mouth, and your shoulders shake with the force of your amusement. Harry, unable to help himself, begins to chuckle along with you. Heat blooms across his cheeks, but he’s not as embarrassed as he thought he’d be. Your giggles aren’t derisive, he realises.

He’s nearly overcome with the urge to take you in his arms, then, but he resists.

“Late night, watching the television…,” you sing quietly, and then you’re dissolving into merriment all over again.

Once your joint laughter subsides, you shoot him a bright grin. Harry tries his best to return it, though he doesn’t think that he mirrors your smile to its full extent. You sigh in delight, shouldering the strap of your bag and tossing your towel over your forearm.

“That honestly made my night,” you tell him, utterly sincere.

His heart somersaults in his chest. “’M glad.”

“Well,” you say, shrugging gently, “I should probably go.”

“Yeah.” His response is hollow. He lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He lies back down with a grunt as you make your way toward the exit. His fingers wrap around the weightlifting bar, about to pull it off of its resting place, when your voice suddenly rings out again.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He sits up too quickly, nearly catching his forehead against the metal of the bar. When he turns around to face you, he finds you doubling back, approaching him and nibbling apprehensively on your bottom lip.

“I actually—,” you pause, like you’re unsure of how to continue, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Sure,” he says, rubbing his hands over the black shorts covering his thighs. “Go ahead.”

“It might be kind of weird,” you warn. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He shakes his head, blinking solemnly. “I won’t.”

“Would you—,” you begin, and your fingers come up to play with the pendant resting at the base of your throat, “—teach me how to box?”

“I—,” Harry recoils slightly, taken aback by your question. “What?”

“Would you teach me how to box?” you repeat, though your voice is significantly smaller. “I want to learn how to defend myself.”

“Against what?” he asks, his brows knitting together in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” You wave away his worries with an inattentive flick of your hand. Harry’s eyes narrow as he studies your face. You refuse to meet his gaze.

You’re lying, he realises, straight through your pretty teeth. But it would be impolite of him to pry, wouldn’t it? And this is the first time that the two of you have ever been really, truly alone; he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Okay,” he says slowly, even though he doesn’t believe your guarantee.

He pulls at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up and wiping his face with the fabric. When he fixes his gaze on you once more, he thinks he catches your eyes drifting across his torso. Cocking one eyebrow curiously, he climbs to his feet.

“What do you want to learn?” he asks, reaching for his phone and pausing the music streaming from the device.

“Anything,” you say breathlessly. “Everything.”

His lips twitch.

“I—,” he scratches at his nose with two fingers, “—I don’t really have a set schedule, you know, between practice and actual matches.”

“I know.” You nod understandingly.

“And I know you have school,” he continues, tilting his head to the side. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” you tell him. There’s something strong burning in your eyes; he can’t quite figure out what it is. “I want to train. Just…don’t tell my dad, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats. He swallows heavily, offering his phone to you. “Put your number in, yeah? I’ll text you on the nights I’m free, and if you’re not too busy, we can meet up here.”

“Alright,” you concede softly. You take the device from him, and he pretends not to notice just how badly your hands are shaking. Your nails tap quietly against the screen, and before you know it, you’re passing the phone back to him with your information saved under a new contact.

“Alright,” Harry echoes.

The two of you stare at each other for a long, silent moment. The spell is broken, however, when you finally take a step back, clearing your throat and tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear.

“I should go,” you say. “For real, this time.”

“For real.” Harry nods.

“You’ll lock up, right?” you ask, retreating toward the exit.

“Yup,” he says, popping the last letter instinctively. At that, you smile, your mouth curling up into a soft, inviting crescent.

“Okay,” you murmur, placing one hand on the door. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He watches you go with forlorn eyes and empty lungs. “Goodnight.”

~*~

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

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[hpalways]

Spice and Tea || Zhongli

EVERYTHING seemed to be much grander in the city of Liyue Harbor. The tall, towering structures were built from an endless budget of mora, glistening in the darkness. Golden-amber lights shown from each building, they were nearly blinding, but so beautiful. It were these very details that made the city so popular with the tourists... though it was a rather different matter for those who resided here. Besides the fact, these colors reminded you of something — no, someone. 

This someone was currently in front of you, his tall figure leading you through the streets. His long, ebony hair swishing in a ponytail behind him, the soft-looking strands almost slapped you in the face several times. He then glanced back at you, his golden hues digging into your soul. “Are you alright? You look quite out of it,” he observed. 

Blinking for a few seconds, you cleared your throat and quickly nodded. “I am? I didn’t realize.”

Actually, it wasn’t too surprising that you were. The memory of Zhongli telling you that he was the Geo God was resurfacing. No matter how much time you had to process all of this, you could never truly grasp it. A god? How could someone like him... be something so impressive? But the evidence was there. From the way he looked to the way he acted, his entire being symbolized the city. 

You first acquainted him when you found him lingering around your stall, curious of the herbs and spices that were laid out for sale. Dressed in exquisite clothing in multiple shades of brown, you assumed he was someone of high status. Intimidated by him immediately, you steered clear of him and only spoke when he had any inquires. His voice low and calm, he turned out to be really philosophical. His knowledge of the herbs you tended to was profound, and you couldn't help but be in awe. When he finally decided to buy something, it left you dumbstruck. He didn't have mora on himself. How could someone not have mora on themselves?! He was a mystery to you. 

Chasing him away for making a fool out of yourself, you couldn't believe you wasted time on him. However, that wasn't the last time you saw him. He visited a few times a week, coming without mora as always. To this, you were supposed to kick him out, for he provided no business. But deep down inside, you had no heart to do so, not when he looked so passionate talking about mundane things like herbs. Listening to him speak left you at ease, so a smile would take place on your lips more often. 

So here you were now. The two of you developed a closer relationship throughout the weeks. Yet, the news of Zhongli as a god seemingly complicated things. Why would he spend time with a mere mortal being like you? You were nothing compared to him, a speck of dust within his years. In no time, he would forget you... and the thought of that hurt.

Brushing those thoughts away, you decided it was best to enjoy this moment with him. The future was unknown, concerning the two of you, but worrying would only add wrinkles onto your face. Speeding up your pace, you were side by side with the consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. He rose his eyebrows, sending you a soft smile that left you flustered. 

"Why do we have to go to a teahouse when I already have herbs to make tea out of?" you complained. "I'll be the one spending my mora too."

He blinked in surprise. He always did this when someone brought up the currency, as if he didn't realize mora existed. "Oh, that's right. The tea is going to cost pretty expensive," he said, humming. He looked unbothered, knowing he was a total parasite to you. Damn, if he was a god, couldn't he at least create some mora and have you become rich?

The teahouse was coming into view, the homely building wide and spacious. Strolling through the front door, you were led to a table for two. Sitting yourself down in front of Zhongli, you watched as he professionally scanned through the menu. 

"Do you have any preferences?" he asked you. "If not, I know a good one. It's refreshing and has this distinct taste that never fails to reduce stress. After all, a lot happened today, did it not?"

He was correct in that. Today, the newest stocks for your spices didn't deliver on time, because the wagon fell into the ditch. This was a great annoyance to your day, but you decided to go check on it, in exchange that you would get your products safely. What you didn't know was that the wagon had ran into hilichurls earlier, who still lingered there when you arrived at the scene of crime. Ambushed by the creatures, it was thought you were to meet your end when someone saved you in time. It was no other than the Geo God himself, the very one sitting across from you at this moment. 

This encounter had struck more doubts within you. The difference in strength and power between you and Zhongli was out of this world. You were so weak, but he slashed those monsters dead with a few hits. It made you wonder if it was better if he didn't need know you; you were such a nuisance for him, someone not worth of his time. 

"Thank you for saving me back then," you said for the millionth time already. "I guess paying for the tea shouldn't be a big deal, since I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you."

"It was a pleasure saving you. You are my favorite merchant, after all." He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned on the back of the chair, looking pleased with himself. A staff member approached the table and he went to order tea. Once they were gone, the consultant leaned forward, gazing intently at you. His gloved hand lifted from beneath and was placed on top of your head. Stroking your [h/c] locks endearingly, he was throwing you off drastically. He was never this affectionate. "Go get some rest after this. Don't go back to the market -- it should be closing soon anyway."

Much to your disappointment, he removed his hand when a teapot was set in the middle. Porcelain tea cups were stacked beside it, ready to be used. Elegantly reaching for them, he poured the steamy liquid into the fragile cups, handing one to you and keeping the other for himself.

Patiently blowing into the tea, you took a sip and melted at the taste of it. He was right; this was almost enough to erase all your worries away. 

"This citrus and honey scent stemming from it... it reminds me of you, [Y/N]," he said softly. His lashes lowered, showcasing how long and dark they were. Beautiful. Why was he so beautiful? "Soothing and warm. You allowed me at your stall when no else did. You became a haven, if I dare say." He sipped his tea and let out a content sigh. "Most relationships I've had with others were bounded through contracts. Although, with you, there is none and I still find myself returning to see you. Is this the meaning of sentiment then?"

You were thoroughly unprepared with his words. He kept surprising you today. Was he somehow affected by the near death experience you had today? That couldn't possibly be true. "I-I don't know," you choked out.

It was silent for the next few minutes. Averting your eyes away from him, you buried your face into your cup, gulping down the rest of its contents. Now empty, you hurried to pour in more tea, hoping you didn't look as awkward as you felt. Meanwhile, his features were passive to the point it was unreadable. What was he thinking about? 

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked bluntly. Your shoulders stiffening, you quickly shook your head in denial. "I see. And yes, to see you almost dying, it frightened me. I couldn't bear to lose you." Your mouth parted in shock. Did he somehow read your mind? 

But his words... they touched you, making tears prickle the corners of your eyes. Blinking them away, you gulped and fixed your posture self-consciously. He truly cared about you. 

Before you could stop yourself, you summoned up the courage to voice the question that had been on your mind all night long. "Will you forget me someday?"

He chuckled in amusement, shaking his head afterwards. Reaching for your hand, he guided it to the side of his face. His skin soft and smooth under your fingertips, the feeling of it sent your heart racing. His crimson bangs brushed you, tingles erupting on your tender skin. He nuzzled himself into the crook of your palm, fluttering his eyes shut. "Never. You will be thought of during every tea I drink, every herb I analyze, every merchant I meet, and every hilichurl I fight. Memories with you will be cherished forever... so don't go forgetting me either."

[lunaekalenda]

hi!! can i ask for either an eren or porco x reader fic where their titan form saves you from nearly dying during a battle and they get mad at you afterwards because they’re obviously not gonna be there all the time then when you apologize they end up breaking down because their afraid of losing you and it just ends in fluff 👉🏻👈🏻

OMG OMG wait this is gold!! that was a really good plot!! i had a hard time deciding, but i'm more into porco lately, so this time i'll be using him for my first fic! i hope you like it and sorry for the errors or the things that were different to the original ask :(  (*´-`) this takes place in one of the battles Marley fights against another enemy, but I will not follow the line of the original manga :D (also thanks to @breathes24 for refreshing my memory :D)

𝔰𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲

❁ porco x reader

❁ mention of blood and battle, mention of the extraction of a bullet, bad talking. shingeki s4 spoilers!

The only thing you could hear were shots. You kept running, your feet hurted and the backpack was really heavy. Running in the middle of the battlefield was a suicide mission, you knew it, but you were not going to leave all in Pieck's and Porco's hands. So, trying to avoid the shots, you keep runing. You can see Pieck's bag shooting and Porco running from one machine to another, trying to break them with his hardened claws. You look around, the corpses of your companions scattered across the field, along with some enemies. You try to concentrate in what you’re trying to do. The kids are safe in the trench, and you’re not a soldier of valor, you only have nursing knowledge, useless for the fight.

That’s why the commander has not hesitated to send you as a distraction.

“If you expose yourself as an easy target, they will probably have to divide their attention between them and you. Also, they know there are nine Changing Titans, but they don’t know exactly how many of them we have. They could think you’re one of them. That will make Zeke’s appearance more unexpected for them, you see?”

"Where the hell is Zeke?" you think. He should be here helping, a lot of eldians have died. a scream is heard and you identify it as a Titan's one. Pieck received a shot on her hand. She's losing her strength little by little. Porco keeps fighting, and Pieck’s support soldiers do a great job mastering the cannons, trying to hit the enemies. Reiner is trying to stop their train.

"Just wait a bit, guys. I'm almost there..." you enter the enemy side of the field. Your trench looks empty, because your army blindly believes in titans. But, like humans, their stamina is limited, and transforming takes a great deal of energy.

"There's one of them!!" someone yells in front of you. "She could be the Beast Titan, kill her before she reaches the other two!" all the soldiers can be heard loading their shotguns. 

The first shot impacts on the floor. The second, near you. You just have an option: keep running, faster.

You accelerate the step to the front, where big war machines are searching you. From the trench, a lot of soldiers are trying to kill you, failing due to the poor visibility they have, but it's a matter of time before those who run the tanks finds you.

This is the end.

The shots are every time more precise, but you can’t return and leave them alone, waiting for Zeke to make his appearance.

You have no scape.

You close your eyes, accepting the destiny, while you keep running. You can hear them charging their big machines. They found you.

You’re their target now.

A Titan's scream is heard, right before the order of the enemy captain.

"Fire!"

You open your eyes when a shot impacts on your leg, and you watch how they charge the canons, ready to kill you. Now you have zero scape way, you’re hurt and you can’t move.

Suddenly, the Jaw Titan appears and, opening his mouth, picks you up off the ground, locking you in his hardened jaw. His speed of movement allows him to easily dodge all shots. 

"Thanks, Pock."

A tremor and the sound of lightning tells that Zeke has already arrived to help.

He keeps runing, and then all you can hear are rocks hitting people, trains and houses. Zeke’s titan may be slow for running, but his pitches are deadly. Your leg hurts where the bullet went through, and the pants you’re using are covered with blood. 

“Just leave me here and return. I don’t want them to lose because of me.”

He ignored what you said and kept running, but slowing down. Probably he’s tired, he has been fighting for hours. 

Once you two are far enough from the battlefield, Porco turns right and you recognize the path he has been taking. We’re close to the residence. He opens his mouth and you go down to the floor, but your leg complains of the roughness of the movement. Then, his Titan falls, and he appears behind it. He seems angry.

"What the hell were you doing there?" he says. His Titan is steaming. 

"I wanted to help you, you were doing all the work... The commander told me to help and I thought it was a good idea." Porco looks at you without saying anything for a minute. Then, he sighs and looks at your bleeding leg, before coming towards you. His arm slips under your knees carefully, and the other rests on your back, before he lifts you. “I can walk, you don’t have to...”

“You have a fucking bullet inside, just take help for one damn time.” You decided to shut up and he enters the residence. “I have some medical stuff in my room, I’ll take you there.” He starts to walk up the stairs, heading to his room. There are a few doctors on their daily check of the injured soldiers that live here. He opens his door using his foot, and he enters. His room is clean and clear. Natural light comes in through the window, and a bedside lamp lights up the corner of hi bed. He leaves you in the bed before walking to his personal bathroom, from where he takes a medicine cabinet. Porco drags a chair to place it near the bed, making him able to treat your leg. He hasn’t talk since we arrived here, but he keeps frowning. 

“We didn’t need help” He says after cutting your pants at the height of the wound. Then, Porco opens the medicine cabinet, and takes out thread, needle and some surgical tweezers. The scalpel glows when he pulls it out.

“Maybe this hurts a bit.” He whispers. He prepares also a towel with some water. “Grab that pillow and use it to muffle your screams.” You do what he said, and you put his pillow on your face. It smells like him, and it comforts you a lot. He works fast, moving his fingers with precision, and extracting the bullet without problem. Once he’s finished, he saves everything back in place and offers you a glass of water. You’re dizzy from the pain and you needed to drink, so you thank him and drink.

“Do it slow or you’ll be feeling worst, idiot.” he scolds tou. You drink it slower and you take a breath once you’re finished.

“Thanks” He puts the glass on the table he has as a desk. 

“Well, I...”

“You could have died out there” he says. He’s not looking at you, and runs his hand through his hair. “You were about to die.”

“Thanks for that, you saved me”

“I’m not going to last forever, you know? Someday I’ll die, and I’m not going to be there to save you like all the other times. So start thinking about surviving and stop playing the heroine.”

“Sorry?”

Why was he so pissed off? You didn’t ask for his help.

“I don't have to take care of you every time we go out onto the battlefield”

“Stop doing it, then”

“It's called companionship, but it only works if everyone focuses on surviving and not in saving stupid death-hugging soldiers”

“I never asked you to save me.” The words come out on their own before you could stop them. That was very rude, you’re ungrateful. He looks at you in the eyes, but you can't tell how he feels. 

“Cool, next time I'll take care of my business and let you die, if that’s what you want.”

He’s hurt. You hurt him because you were getting nervous. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything that I said. I was getting anxious...”

He sighs. “I also talked badly to you.”

“But you’re right. I can’t survive by myself.” 

“I didn’t mean to say that.” His voice is losing strength, and his gaze is lowered. “It’s just... I thought that today I was losing you, I was not going to be able to arrive on time” his voice breaks while he talks. “I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you”

You looked at him surprised. “To me? Who cares about me? Maybe it’s because we trained together since kids.” You think for yourself, before speaking.

“Well, I know you care for all of us, but Pock yo...”

“You’re not getting it.” He says. Then he leans over to the bed. “I care for you. I care a lot. I can’t imagine if something bad happens to you. I’m always near in case I have to help you. I can only thing about your wellness.” His brown eyes are fixed on yours. “Please, don’t do that again.” His eyes are getting wet. “Just the idea of losing you terrifies me.” His hand sits on your back, and draws you to him. You’re speechless.

You have always been interested in Porco. When you first met him, you thought he was really handsome, and his personality made you think of him as unattainable. You two have been training together since kids. He was really good in all skills, and you were really bad. He helped you a couple times, but you ended in the nursery school. You started to lose contact, but then he inherited the Jaw Titan and wasn’t sent to Paradis, so you both coincide again. He is a man now, even more attractive than before, but with a somewhat shocking personality. So listen him saying this things makes your heart shudder.

“Pock, I...”

“I like you. Well, I think this is no more just attraction.” he whispers. “I guess I’m in love with you.”

That hit you like a train. His love for you was behind all the times he saved you, the times he helped you and the times he reprimanded you. He was moved by love, genuine concern. 

“Are you crying?” he separates you from his body to look at your face. Tears roll down your cheeks fast. Porco places his hands on both sides of your face, dabbing them dry with his thumbs. Your hands are placed on top of his, and you lean your head towards his touch. 

“I also love you, Pock” he smiles before kissing your forehead. “Since we were kids”

“You know that if you had said it before, I would have corresponded long ago” you laugh quietly, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin. “I can’t promise you a long life together, but if you accept the little that I can offer, I’ll be delighted to be with you.”

His lips place a soft kiss on your hair and you hug him.

“I will be happy to be with you, Pock.”

The room was silent, and you could only listen to his heartbeat, slow, because he has you on his arms, alive. You look at him, his handsome face looking you.

“Does that mean I can ask you to going out later” he laughs.

“I just took out a bullet from your leg, you have to rest.” you smirk.

“I live in the other part of the city. I can’t walk.”

“I’ll call a horse cart for you.”

He was having fun, dodging every possible way to spend time together that night.

“What if my leg hurts? I live alone.” you tried and, for your surprise, he smiled.

“Then I guess you need someone to take care of you tonight...”

His lips covered yours sweetly, and you thought you could get used to it.

To him.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Harry Osborn x Parker!Reader

A/N: This was kind of the crack fever dream type of imagine so like don’t judge me

Harry has a YouTube channel that’s pretty popular

Cuz let’s be honest who doesn’t want to watch a rich kid blog about his life

One day he’s planning a challenge to do with his best friend

i.e. Peter Parker

Unfortunately, though, Peter had to go and save the world

So, he sent you in his place

Now Peter knew Harry would be upset that he had to bail on him

Again

But sending you in place of him was a very smart move on Peter’s part

Because he knew about the crush that Harry had on you

And while he didn’t appreciate it

Or even understand it to be honest

He still used it to his advantage

So, when you show up at Harry’s door with a wide smile and apology donuts from Peter, Harry has no choice but to let you in

And that’s how you end up filming a cooking challenge with Harry

“Hey guys so even though I told you my best friend would be here, unfortunately he couldn’t make it so I have something even better! Here’s (Y/N)!”

The two of you actually have a blast playing this game

Halfway through Harry starts taking questions from twitter

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done for each other?” Harry read from his phone while you tried to get the sauce jar open

He grabbed it and did it for you

“Hmmm I pretended to be your girlfriend because there was a girl at school who wouldn’t stop sitting in your lap?”

Harry burst into laughter after hearing that, nearly dropping his phone

“I forgot about that!”

While you were still recording, he asked you what you wanted for your birthday this year

“Hmm a jet.”

He laughed, chopping a few vegetables

“What colour?”

“Really?”

“No. But seriously, what do you want for your birthday?”

“Money?”

He laughed this time

“Are you so greedy?”

“Yep, little rich boy, I want all your cash.”

It was kinda quiet after that while the two of you were silently cutting vegetables before you spoke up

“Hey, Harry?”

“Hm?”

“If I married you, would I get half your money?”

You didn’t even look up to see Harry blush bright red and hold a hand to his chest trying to calm his heart

And in the most strained voice

“Yep.”

“Cool, let’s have a summer wedding.”

The whole video is filled with you both flirting this way

The editors had such a great time editing this video

And when it finally got posted his fans absolutely loved it

It being such a hit that you show up in more videos with Harry

You ended up doing a lot of challenges together

Smoothie challenge

Pizza Challenge

Letting the person ahead of you choose what to order

Shopping spree under one minute

Every challenge under the face of the sun has been done by the two of you

Everybody talking about how the two of you should start dating

I mean Everybody

Like a hundred different students coming up to you on Monday morning asking if you’re dating Harry Osborn

And the whole time you’re like

“Nope, not dating him.”

Peter is kind of fed up because there are like a hundred people he knows who are asking him about it

Aunt May also saw a few tweets about it

Harry actually feeling so apologetic about it but you just brush it off saying that it’s fine

Him actually asking you out later and you wondering if he’s doing it cuz people are pressuring him

So, you say no

And he’s super upset by it

So upset that Peter actually ends up hearing him talk about it for like 6 hours

Before he thinks he’s had just about enough of this and goes to tell you that Harry is actually crazy about you

He’s just like “I know he’s my best friend but please get him off my hands.”

And then you agree to date him

And Peter isn’t sure if he should be happy about it

“You’re my best friend, Harry but I’m not sure I like you enough to be my brother.”

But the two of you are pretty happy so who cares about what Peter thinks right?

Harry actually spooling you but you being like stop I’m not with you for your money

“I have actual recorded footage of you asking to marry me for the money.”

He’s so sweet to you

Pretty touch starved so he loves cuddling and you really don’t protest

The kind of boyfriend who won’t really notice when something is wrong unless you tell him

But he’s also the type who calls you beautiful just because 

Peter gets sick of being the third wheel very quickly

You would think that Norman would have been snooty and rude to you

But he’s actually so cool about your relationship

After he got de-goblinized he was even better to you

The three of you actually did a challenge on YouTube together

It was incredibly awkward

But hey fans found it funny so why not

After a while the channel stopped being his and actually became both of yours

But the two of you love vlogging and things like that so it’s kind of worth it

Being literal high school sweethearts even though Harry graduated a year ahead of you

Harry picked you up from school in a limo every other day because he wants to show other guys that you’re his

You didn’t feel the need to do the same

Until one day someone brought to your attention that the girls in his college was very pretty

So, you ended up picking him up from college the next day

And then making out in the backseat of the limo

While it is difficult putting your relationship online

You also like to show him off and you love the community the two of you have

Dating all the way through college

Fans making compilations of the two of you

‘Harry and (Y/N) being in love for 24 minutes straight’

“Harry and (Y/N) being couple goals’

There was this one time that Harry was doing an Instagram live from his bed

Fans practically freaked out once they noticed you were sleeping beside him

Peter freaking out too and telling him to send you home

Tries to get Aunt May to call you home

But she’s just like

“They’re adults they can do whatever they want”

So, Peter does the responsible and mature thing

Goes all the way over to Harry’s penthouse to supervise

Harry just ignoring him and going back to sleep while cuddling you

And Peter tries to stay outside and spy

But he ends up feeling weird and embarrassed so he lets himself out

And you crack open one eye like

“Is he gone yet?”

Dating Harry Osborn is really fun and there’s always something new

It’s very refreshing to be with him

And also, you always feel loved

Spoiler you actually do end up having a summer wedding

[mourntheantagonist]

#HarringroveApril Day 16: Nostalgia

***

When Billy signed those discharge papers, piled into his dented Camaro and headed west towards the sunset despite the screaming redhead banging on the windows crying “please don’t go!”, with an aching chest both metaphorical and physical, he didn’t think for a second about looking back.

So how he ended up back in the same shithole he turned his back on ten years ago was entirely beyond him.

He had made a life for himself in California. He got his associates degree at the local community college and worked his way up from a nine to five teller position at the local bank all the way to branch manager, making an upper middle class salary. It was easy work. Boring work, unfulfilling work, but easy and worth every penny. He had a couple of friends, mostly coworkers, more so acquaintances than friends. He had a fancy apartment in the city, he went on dates, though they usually ended in one night stands where the other guy snuck out in the dark hours of the morning leaving Billy to sleep in a bed that was just too big for one person. But he was free from all of those forces in his life that always held him back and pinned him down, and each and every one of those forces just reeked of small town America.

He hadn’t heard a peep out of Hawkins since Max had given up on calling around eight years ago, or at least he hoped that she’d given up and something worse hadn’t happened to her. He regretted not answering those calls everyday. The guilt of leaving her behind like that weighed heavy like an anchor, but he did it anyway. Bad decision after bad decision he was surprised he made it to where he had today, and he just wished she’d call again.

But he also wasn’t sure enough of himself that anything would change if she did, and that phone would likely remain on the hook until the ringing stopped and she was left to the sound of his voicemail.

“You’ve reached Billy Hargrove. Leave a message.”

He wasn’t home the day she finally did call, which fortunately took that decision away from him. Her message was tossed in with a mix of telemarketers and employees calling in for days off, it could have easily been dismissed, passed over like every other piece of junk in the system if her voice hadn’t been exactly the same as it was the day he left her.

“Hey Billy, it’s Max. I know you probably don’t give a shit, but Neil died of a heart attack last night…” Billy stopped listening after the words ‘Neil died’ came over the speaker. He had to replay the message to hear the rest because by the time he’d gathered himself it had already ended. “...the funeral is next Saturday in Hawkins. Nobody expects you to come but I thought you should know anyway and that everyone would still like to see you. Call me back at…” Billy wrote the number on the back of a blockbuster receipt and set it flat on the counter quickly with a firm hand and a quick retraction, like it might burn him. Max’s name and a ten digit number below it in a blue ballpoint pen stared back at him and he just drummed his fingers on the counter and bit his lip trying to think everything over.

He looked at it for probably another thirty minutes while the rest of the voicemails cycled through in the background before he decided to make a call of his own. Slowly and shaking, he dialed the phone number and tried to even out his breathing while he waited for the sound of the pick up. He was partially hoping that it never came.

But it did. The click sound was followed by a voice that didn’t belong to Max, but one he still recognized.

“Hello?”

Billy took in a deep breath. “Hi. This is Billy.”

“Wow, I’m surprised you actually called.”

Billy huffed and if it had been ten years earlier he would have already hung up the phone by now.

“Who is this?”

“Lucas Sinclair. I take it you want to talk to Max?”

Billy tensed at the mention of her name, as if that hadn’t been the whole plan in the first place. “Yeah,” he said, a little bit of shakiness to his voice, “could you put her on?”

After a few short moments of silence and a little bit of movement in the background, he heard her.

“Hey Billy.” she sounded… glad… and it made Billy let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Hey Maxine.”

“It’s Max.” There was that tone, she hadn’t changed at all.

“Yeah, I know.” There was a pause, Billy twirled the phone cord around this index finger to the point it started going pink and then purple while he tried to get the question to leave the tip of his tongue. “So, he’s really dead?” he asked, blunt as ever.

“Yeah. I don’t expect you to want to come for the funeral, but I just thought you should know, and if you need a place to stay you can– hold on one second” Billy could hear muffled bickering and Max yelling ‘Lucas Sinclair’ through clenched teeth and it brought a smile to his face. It reminded him of all those times he’d eavesdrop on her phone calls with him just to piss her off, just to hear her yell at him through their shared wall before she’d chase him around the house. Those were good days. “As I was saying. You can stay here if you need. We have a spare room.”

“Thanks for the offer.”

“I really hope you decide to come.”

“We’ll see.” He was just about to hang the phone back up, but he stopped himself, “Hey Max?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice hearing the sound of your voice again.”

Billy wound up taking the week off and driving that same old Camaro, restored back to its former glory, that did the distance twice before, back over to Indiana, to the place he said he’d never go back to, and he really couldn’t figure out the reason why he didn’t just go into work. There was nothing to drive him to go but the weird feeling in his gut that refused to go away until he called in, and a little bit of that pressure was released.

For each freeway exit he came across on the over thousand mile journey he contemplated turning around, getting back on that on-ramp going the other direction and save himself from whatever hell he’d be walking into.

Because that’s what Hawkins was to him. Hell. There were monsters like his father, and then there were real, legitimate monsters as well and Billy wasn’t safe from either of them, well he was safe from one now. He couldn’t imagine why Max decided to stay in the shithole and not get out like he did.

Maybe that’s what makes him the coward.

The welcome to Hawkins sign gave him chills. He remembered seeing that for the first time, following behind the rickety Uhaul pulled by their beat up truck when Billy decided not to follow them into their next turn, and instead got lost on the “scenic route” of Hawkins which really meant “trees, trees, and more trees” when he hit the Quarry’s dead end and nearly went off the cliff into the water below.

At the time he might’ve thought it would have been better if he had.

A lot of things had looked to have changed about the town since the last time he saw it. Places that he remembered being nothing but vast forests now had neighborhoods and restaurant chains and the place that once had a natural canopy was now completely deforested and exposed to the sun.

But the Quarry was exactly the same as he left it.

From the beer cans crushed and scattered, to the sounds of gravel pieces bouncing up and chipping the paint on his car.

The continuities continued to add up when he stepped foot out of the car, pulling on that same old denim jacket he hadn’t worn in years after trading it in for a suit and tie. His boot hit the gravel path just like it always had, with that same stomp that demanded attention, like each time he got out of that car he had to play into the dramatics, put on the mask and play the part he chose for himself. The breeze and the smell, it was all the same as before, as if the industrialization just several blocks north hadn’t had any effects on this little corner of the town where the birds still sang their songs in harmony and the smell of nature was pungent. It felt like no time had passed at all.

But it had been the sound of a rumbling BMW rolling down the crushing gravel that made him feel exactly like he was back in highschool again, the same rotten kid who used fists as forms for problem solving, the kid who as an adult had worked on his impulsivity, standing there, staring up the gentle slope with his fists clenched so tight his fingernails left marks on his palms. All that work, all that progress he thought he’d gone through, thrown straight out the window at just the mere sight of something from his past.

The BMW pulled up beside him, and the quarry apparently wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed. Steve still had the same big swooped back hair and that same exact look on his face when they made eye contact through the passenger window, the same exact look he had the day he told him he was leaving, and screamed at him to get out of his hospital room.

That was the last time they spoke.

Steve got out of the car without a word and just leaned against the door, looking him up and down, and Billy didn’t feel like he had any right to say the first word, considering he’d had the last one.

“It’s good to see you Billy.” Steve broke the silence, and it was almost startling, with both the sudden change of volume, and the sound of that voice he’d almost forgotten singing in his head like a song he didn’t remember learning the lyrics to.

“Is it?” Because it felt like it was all just a formality coming out of his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting an answer to that, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when Steve changed the subject. It was oddly refreshing seeing Steve write the script this time, steering the conversation his way.

“Looks like we both kept our old wheels,” he said, slapping the top of his car twice, maybe a little too hard. The sound of a hand against metal echoed through the trees. “though there’s not as many dents from what I remember.”

“I had it restored.”

The majority of Steve’s body was hidden behind the car that separated the two of them, but he could see in the way that his shoulders moved that his hands had found his own hips, doing that same stance of a mother who just caught their kid in the act of something naughty. “Some good memories happened in that car.”

“Some bad ones too. Or do I need to remind you how the dents got there in the first place?” Billy crossed his arms over his chest, as if the thousand pound chunk of metal that served as a barrier wasn’t enough to protect him. Because it felt like Steve could see directly through him with the way his head tilted when Billy threw his words back at him. Because they both knew that it was horseshit. Memories of whatever happened between Steve and the Camaro existed only in the dents that remained and the neck pain that still lingered. He didn’t actually hold any grudge about that, and he never did.

Because Steve was right. There had been good memories in that car, some he didn’t remember until seeing him again, some that still played in his mind when he went to sleep at night. Maybe that was the reason he kept it around for so long, that one piece that contained all of those few good times, all of those times with Steve.

“You were always so good at that.”

“What?”

“Deflecting. Pushing people away.”

Billy opened his mouth to defend himself, but there was nothing that came out but his own breath, but Steve filled that silence anyway before Billy would have even had the opportunity to speak.

“You cut your hair.”

It was like he was being interrogated.

“Company policy, they practically had to strap me down and take the clippers to my head themselves.”

Steve actually laughed, and it seemed genuine at least. Billy pulled out the pack of red that he always kept on the seat like it was muscle memory. His hands would only ever stop shaking when he had that little stick between his fingers, and they were only shaking more since Steve got out of that car.

“You still smoke?”

Billy put the cigarette in between his lips and lit up, pausing for a nice drag before bothering to answer Steve. Just letting his eyes fall shut and experience just a short moment of relaxation.

“Some old habits never die”

Steve pursed his lips. Every single one of his mannerisms were exactly the same. This one meant that he wanted to say something that he didn’t know if he should.

“Was I just an old habit too?”

“Steve–”

Steve just kicked the side of his car with his knee, sure to leave a dent of his own. The sound was loud enough that the consistent stream of chirping birds transformed into a cascade of flapping wings as the birds on the trees flew away from the scene. He walked around to the front of his car and the physical object that once created separation was gone, and suddenly Steve was within reach and he couldn’t breathe.

“Glad to know it’s harder to quit nicotine than it was to quit me!”

Billy chucked his lit cigarette at the ground and scuffed it with his heel into the gravel. “Who told you it was easy?!” He had a finger pointed to Steve and had closed their distance a few feet more, less than an arms length apart from each other.

“You left!”

“Because I had to! You know I did!”

“You didn’t have to leave me!” Steve practically screamed that final word, his face was now just inches away from Billy’s and he was nearly foaming at the mouth and from an outsider's perspective, Steve looked about two seconds from either kissing him, or killing him.

He did neither. He took a step back and recollected himself with a dramatic clearing of his throat. “You didn’t even ask me to come with you.”

“And you don’t think I regret that every fucking day of my life?” Billy’s voice broke, trembling throughout the sentence like he was containing a ticking time bomb. “Why are you even here?”

Steve just rolled his eyes at the steer. “Max sent me.”

“Of course she fucking did.”

“She cares about you y’know.” Billy scoffed, because how could she? After all he did to her? He could still hear those palms banging against those windows and her muffled screams for her to stay every time he got into that car. “Why are you here?”

“Did she not tell you the part where my dad died?”

“I know damn well you didn’t come all this way to pay your respects.”

Billy let himself drop to the ground and sit on the rough terrain with his back against his tire, unable to continue standing, his legs were ready to betray him.

“I have no idea why I’m here, okay? I just am.”

Steve nodded his head, and he didn’t say anything, no quip back in his face, he just followed Billy to the ground.

“Are you upset he’s gone?”

Billy let out a groan and tried to rub the growing migraine from his temples.

“I’m feeling a lot of things, but I don’t think ‘upset’ is one of them.” Neither of them said anything after that. They just sat there on the ground and enjoyed the silence together like they used to do. Looking up at the clouds and arguing over what shape they were. There’d be none of that today though, and it had nothing to do with the overcast skies. “You still keep a six pack in your trunk?”

Steve laughed and got up from where he was seated and popped the trunk. He was right. Some old habits never fucking die.

Steve tossed a can over to Billy and sat back down on the gravel, maybe a little closer than he had been before. Billy took a long swig and swallowed the bitter taste down. He hadn’t drank much since he was a teenager, he traded in his Coors for Cola and he doesn’t understand how he used to enjoy the taste of it before.

“Why did you stay in Hawkins?”

Steve dug his heel and pushed a pile of rocks forward, kicking a plume of dust into the air.

“Nobody ever gave me a reason to leave.”

Billy wanted to ask if he would have even come with him had he asked him to. But he opted against it, instead just taking another drink from the can and a genuine “I’m sorry.” passed his lips.

“You know I followed you?”

“What?”

“Yup. Made it all the way to St. Louis before I turned around.”

Billy was just staring at him at this point, unsure if he’d just heard him right. He just sat there with his mouth agape, catching flies and waiting for Steve to say more.

“I knew that you needed to go. I knew that you were hurting and it took me almost ten hours on the open road to realize that you needed time to heal.” Steve’s eyes looked glossy and his cheeks flushed but he kept his smile on. “So I came back home, and I waited here for you to come back. I wanted to make myself easy to find when you needed me.”

“You waited for me?”

Steve inched his hand over to where Billy’s was propping himself up and let his fingers gently trace the back of his hand. Steve’s touch was everything. It made his heart start racing and his palms start sweating and it felt just like 1985 all over again.

Billy took Steve’s hand in his own and entwined their fingers together and Billy let out a long exhale as they did.

“Billy,” Steve said softly, scooting his body just a little bit closer, less than a foot of separation now between the two of them, and he looked Billy in the eyes. Billy had almost gotten entirely lost in those pools of deep brown before Steve had the chance to speak again. But he heard it, loud and clear. “I’m still waiting for you.”

He waited.

Waited ten fucking years.

Billy wasn’t going to make him sit there and wait for a kiss too.

Billy closed the distance at the moment the penny dropped, sinking all of his weight into the kiss in a frantic and uneven pace just like they were eighteen again trying to squeeze both of their bodies into the backseat of the Camaro, refusing for even a second to separate themselves from the one point of contact that sealed them together like glue. The kiss felt just like their first. In the same spot, instead under the stars and the two of them both drunk off their asses, and that time Billy tasted of only blood and liquor.

But it was that same feeling. That desire to never pull away, that fear that it would end and that it would be the last time. He had that fear with everyone of Steve and his kisses, that each one might just be their last.

So he made a point to savor all of them.

They kissed until they physically couldn’t anymore. Out of breath with swollen lips and an inability stop the smiles that peeked through every couple of seconds. They sat there with their foreheads touching and their clasped hands still intact, relishing in the heat that was each other’s breath on their faces. Billy was crying, just streams of tears paired with a smile that Steve gently wiped away with his thumb, the brush of contact making him shiver.

“I missed you so fucking much.”

Steve cradled Billy’s head in his hands and peppered a few short kisses to his lips.

“I missed you too.”

“You think this is why Max invited me here?” Billy asked. “I can’t imagine she’d actually think I would want to come to this thing.”

Steve laughed. “No. She’s not an idiot. She figured you’d want to crash the funeral.”

Billy immediately got up from his place on the ground and held his other hand out for Steve to grab onto. “Well you wanna join me while I go piss on my old man’s grave?”

Steve took his hand without hesitation and let Billy pull him up off the ground.

“It would be my honor.”

Hawkins made a lot of bad memories for Billy, most of which he locked somewhere far away, but the good still remained. Right there in the look on Steve’s face with the way he looked back at him.

And he was happy to make a couple more.

[vuhtterlly]

Overwhelmed

Who: Geto Suguru x GN! Reader

Warnings: Comfort. Slightly reckless driving. Light angst? Grammatical Errors. A tiny, tiny, TINY spoiler.

A/N: This is inspired by true events. Unloading is not easy, and we get so wrapped up trying to ignore that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to cry when you don't know the reason and seek comfort from the person you trust the most.

Summary: You have to be fine, not for everyone's sake but for yourself. So, why after tonight's event, you find yourself crying and conflicted to call for help. Though someone notices your behavior and does not hesitate to be there for you.

Muffled voices surrounded you, but strangely enough, you can hear what they are saying. You laugh when everyone does, you answer when someone asks you things, but behind that smile, you were lost. It was like if your body was on autopilot.

You look at your watch, and it was getting late. "I'm sure everyone still wants to hear how great you are, but we have students to teach early tomorrow," you got up from your seat.

"Oh, come on, Y/N! Don't be a party pooper. I'm sure we can still hang a couple more minutes," Gojo pleaded.

You shook your head and gave an apologetic smile to the waitress who has been waiting to clean the table.

"They're right, Gojo. Can't you see it's time to close! Plus, we see each other every day." The black hair man scolded the pouting white-haired man.

Gojo pouted and got up, "You three go ahead. I'll pay for our meal."

Shoko was already walking ahead and pulling out her smokes. Geto walked a bit further but noticed how you were walking slow and looking at your surroundings. It was as if you were trying to distract yourself.

He opened the door and hold it for you.

"Hey, are you okay?" He stood next to you as you took your keys out of your pocket.

You scrunched your eyebrows, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be."

He shrugged, "Just asking." Though he knew that you were lying but didn't push anymore.

The four of you came in separate cars, but Gojo and Geto came together.

"Ah! I guess he's up to his antics again," You pointed at the window.

Shoko and Geto looked in your pointed direction. They see Gojo flirting with the young waitress. The three of you sigh, and Shoko decided to go back in to drag Gojo away from the poor woman.

You yawned and stretch out your limbs.

Geto chuckled, "I guess you should head out before you fall asleep here."

You hummed in agreement.

"Come on. I'll walk you to your car." He nodded towards where your car is parked.

As the two of you were walking, you were questioning if you should ask him if he wants to go with you, but your automated brain wasn't letting you.

Geto could have asked you if he could go with you, but he knew that something was going on with you, and you needed some space. Though that didn't stop him from worrying.

You got in your car. Before Geto closed the door for you, he stared at you.

"Umm, Sugu?" You asked nervously. Squirming at his intense gaze.

He shook his head, "Sorry! Are you sure you able to drive? I know you struggle driving at night." He wanted to stall, anything to be by your side.

You gave a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine! The campus is close by. I can make it! Besides, you have me in find friends. So, if anything, just look where I am at."

That's the thing he doesn't want to resort to that. He wants to believe that you'll be fine, but his gut is warning him that he should be with you.

He nodded, agreeing with your last statement, "Please drive safe then. Text me once you're close by."

He lets you close the door, his eyes not leaving your car as it drives away.

*******

A shaky breath leaves your trembling lips, and in a millisecond, a sob came afterward.

You were driving to an intersection, and it's your turn to make a stop. You were about to make a left, but your head wasn't letting you think straight. You were so caught up sobbing that you didn't properly look at both sides and almost hit a car.

"Clear your head, Y/N. You can't drive like this. Clear. Your. Head." You took a couple of deep breaths. Once the road was clear, you made the left turn, but you started to sob again. Your "Clear Mind" mantra was working-ish, but the tears weren't stopping.

Stopping at a traffic light, you started to rant, "You we-were never in m-my life, and you have the au-audacity to talk shit about m-me?! W-who do y-you t-think you are to say...to say th-that I've never done any-anything to p-prove that I can l-lead the c-clan. T-that I'm not smart en-enough to lead. I'm a t-teacher for fuck sakes!!!"

Your eyes glance at the light. The traffic light taking its time to turn green.

"Uncle, y-you are in-in no position to-to say that-that I'm n-not worthy of the title. B-because I am w-worthy!!!! I-I don't have sons w-who kno-knocked up and ha-have di-different baby mommas!!!! Plus, I ca-can destroy your weak ass sons!!!"

You reach to turn up the music. The back of your head wanted to deny this action, telling you that you need to let everything out. Though you just wanted to block your thoughts.

When your sibling found out about it and told you, it didn't hit like right now. In fact, you laughed and said that your uncle's sons didn't have anything compared to you. The elders in your clan already confirm that you were next in line to lead your clan. So, why is something like what your uncle said affecting you?

Shouldn't you be crying over your work? That there were innocent people you couldn't save, and their families blame you.

From taking your students to missions, making sure they survived, making sure the elders didn't touch one of Gojo's students, preparing to become the new clan leader, training to perfect your domain expansion, to go on solo missions. It was an endless cycle, but why are you crying for a small comment?

Could it be that you're just overwhelmed? That this is your body trying to unload?

Your thoughts were all over the place, and the music wasn't helping. The light turned green, but soon the road lights were fading, making it harder for you to drive.

"I can't drive like this," You let out a shaky breath. "What s-should I do?" You hiccupped.

You slowly pulled to the side of the road and parked your car. When you thought you had calm down, another wave of sobs burst out of your lips. Before you know it, you screamed, and punch the steering wheel trying to let go of your frustrations.

Minutes turned to an hour, and you were dozing off. Would it be a bad idea to sleep on the road for the night? Then again, you'll have to explain to Suguru why you haven't come home yet.

You didn't want to bother anyone, especially at this hour. You've learned that dealing with these emotions was best because who could understand you better than yourself?

Although...

You have friends who trust you with their vulnerability, but do you trust them with yours?

What's the point of having friends if you can't be real with them?

Aren't you the type of person friends come for comfort?

For once, don't you want someone to comfort you?

Lowering the music volume. Your phone was in your hand, and unconsciously you dial Geto. Biting your lip, you immediately cancel the call. You feared what he'll think or that he can't be there for you.

The ring from your phone startled you, he called you back.

You cleared your throat and swallowed a chunk of saliva. Hoping he wouldn't notice your broken voice.

"Hello?"

"Unlock your door." That was all he said before he hanged up.

You looked around your surroundings and saw a dark outline of a car parked behind you. A figure walked towards your door, and thanks to the moonlight, you were able to see that it was Suguru.

When he opened the door, your lips quivered, and another wave of tears streams down your cheeks.

"S-Sugu I-" You wanted to ask how or why, but he didn't give you a chance.

He leans towards you and unbuckles your seatbelt.

"I going to pick you up and put you in the back, okay?" His face was inches from yours.

You nodded and hiccupped.

He leaves for a second to open the back door and comes back, picking you up gently.

After he places you gently on the back seat, a voice comes from the direction of the other car.

"Are they alright?!" they yelled, worry hidden in their voice.

Geto pulls back and wipes some of your tears away, "I'll be back."

You didn't want him to leave; his warmth made you feel safe.

It felt like an eternity for Suguru to come back, but then you saw the headlights from the other car turned on and drove off.

You hiccupped, and the tears never seemed to end.

"Sorry if I took long. Mind if you scoot over." He said softly.

Your mind was back to autopilot and did what was commanded.

The two of you sat there uncomfortable. Geto did not know if it's okay to pull you into a hug, but he decided to do it. He makes you sit on his thighs, chest against chest, and he then pushes your face towards his neck. One arm is wrapped around your waist, while the other one is rubbing your back.

"It's okay to cry. But for once, let me hold you and soothe your raging thoughts, just like you've done for me. Let me be your shoulder for you to cry on, trust me with your vulnerability," he pleaded and hold you tighter.

You wanted to push him away, but instead, your hands reached to grip his shirt. You gritted your teeth and let out another sob. Suguru didn't stop rubbing your back and kept giving soothing words.

This craving that was starting to build, you didn't want it to end. You never thought that being wrapped in someone's arm can be so warm and slightly refreshing.

"Whenever you feel ready to talk, I'll be here with you. It doesn't matter if it's something small or silly; your feelings are important. Don't think that I'll judge you because I won't," he reassured you.

It took you a while to gain some of your composure back, but you manage to regain some strength. A shaky breath left your lips, and you pull back from his warmth. His hand reaches your cheeks and wipes away your tears. You were able to hold eye contact with him, and his gentle smile makes you feel at ease.

"Sorry for making a-a mess on your sh-shoulder," you reached to pat dry the wetness.

He grabs your hand and intertwines it with his, "It's okay." While the other one is still wiping your rebel tears.

"Umm, I'm-I'm sorry." You mumbled and looked behind him. Finding the passing cars interesting.

He knew why you were apologizing for and clenched his jaw. "There's nothing to be sorry... Look at me."

You hesitated, but he gently grabs your chin and pulls your attention back to him.

"I want to be here with you. For you." He squeezes your hand. "Remember when I was pushing everyone away, but you were able to see through me?"

You nodded.

"I didn't know I needed someone until you came, and you told me that it's okay to feel the way I was feeling. So, what did you do?" He said a bit humorously.

You smiled at the memory.

"You made it your mission to pull me out of that hole."

"I did it because I care," you unknowingly whispered.

He squeezed your hand, "Exactly! And guess what? I care about you too."

That word care, it was still foreign to you. Strange, huh? You care about others but have a hard time believing when others say they care about you. Maybe it was because people have let you down when you needed their comfort. Or chose to ignore your cries for help.

Yet, here's this man giving you warmth and comfort. Something that you have been craving for too long. It was still foreign for you, but your craving wasn't going to deny it.

When his hands cradled your face, your cheeks flared up. This type of intimacy was a bit too much, but you welcomed it. Finally, realizing Suguru is being genuine and not acting.

Tears started to stream down, and you leaned to hug him. The man didn't hesitate to hug back.

"I hope those are happy tears."

BRB I going to go cry now. Ps. I made it home safely.

JJK Masterlist

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

~

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

     An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago. 

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning. 

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never. 

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak. 

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love. 

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky. 

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action. 

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around. 

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier. 

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief. 

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now. 

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well. 

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly. 

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking. 

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now. 

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation. 

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles. 

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.  

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night. 

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck. 

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected. 

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah. 

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face. 

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack. 

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender. 

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing. 

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries. 

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing. 

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back. 

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary. 

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room. 

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand. 

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night. 

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented. 

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve. 

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin. 

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind. 

“Huh?” 

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.” 

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack. 

Ridiculous. 

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself. 

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies. 

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

    “He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath. 

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious. 

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” 

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands. 

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together. 

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck. 

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating. 

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours. 

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise. 

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order. 

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp. 

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back. 

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection. 

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded. 

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms. 

     You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit. 

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected. 

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit. 

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send. 

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months.  “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so. 

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned. 

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense. 

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.” 

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back. 

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible. 

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information. 

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man. 

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side. 

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand. 

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed. 

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug. 

“You better. Catch me up, please?” 

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium. 

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match. 

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip. 

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap. 

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god. 

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling. 

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically. 

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered. 

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.” 

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound. 

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.  

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane. 

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality. 

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion. 

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

     California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe. 

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain. 

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

      “You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car. 

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway. 

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance. 

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors. 

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose. 

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this. 

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years. 

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you. 

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere. 

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band. 

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth. 

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins. 

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink. 

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant. 

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap.  “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.” 

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu. 

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow. 

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world. 

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes. 

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified. 

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing. 

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers. 

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while. 

 “...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times. 

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway. 

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years. 

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor. 

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.     

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had. 

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right.  “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.” 

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging. 

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours. 

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another. 

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage. 

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward. 

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!” 

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then. 

Scott ordered so much dessert. 

So much. 

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe. 

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends. 

     You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high. 

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher. 

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip. 

You would indulge in this childishness once. 

Once. 

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher. 

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!”

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks. 

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen. 

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you. 

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you. 

      Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in. 

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with. 

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance. 

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him. 

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away. 

No, Steve Rogers never ran. 

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter. 

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did. 

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation. 

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.  

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face. 

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling. 

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well. 

A gesture of approval. 

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips. 

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers. 

Your Captain. 

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip. 

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead. 

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created. 

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze. 

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order. 

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes. 

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold. 

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy. 

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart. 

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this. 

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card. 

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion. 

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass. 

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors. 

      “Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here. 

And he had to do this for Sam. 

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage. 

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment. 

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore. 

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider. 

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened. 

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart. 

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward. 

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people. 

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently. 

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group. 

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving. 

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief. 

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant. 

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment. 

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real. 

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it. 

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle. 

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt. 

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends? 

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back. 

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.” 

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all. 

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips. 

“Steve?” 

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking. 

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

     Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself. 

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room. 

    It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had. 

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more. 

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope. 

Nope. 

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed. 

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom. 

As simple as that. 

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in. 

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.  

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford. 

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing. 

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock. 

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small. 

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous. 

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp. 

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken. 

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic. 

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name. 

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock. 

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper. 

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.  

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self. 

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony. 

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check. 

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip? 

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder. 

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts. 

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth. 

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine. 

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing. 

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead. 

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds. 

 “I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers. 

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them. 

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary. 

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up. 

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you. 

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours. 

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man. 

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner. 

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[moirastuff]

Hiii do you still take requests? If that's the case, could I ask for an Revali x reader where Revali was mean all the years to reader, but now they have to dance together on a festival because Revali's old dance partner broke her leg? (And the chief from the Ornis sad that revali have to dance with reader?) Thank you for reading ^^

The return of tsundere birb?????

I want tsundere birb.

Sorry if this took time, I was going back to my Otaku phase and I watched all Attack on Titan. Ngl, it's pretty cool and I believe in Mikasa and Levi supremacy. I'm not lying

Also, my teachers really said: don't let her rest, because I just had work after work every fucking day, but writing these was kinda refreshing.

I put a little bit of angst in this one, sorry~

I hope you like it ✨

Reader replacing Revali's old dance partner

I still have problem naming this hcs, help me please

Another appointed knight of Zelda, Revali can't treat you the same as Link.

But he can actually, he doesn't treat you any different, except he doesn't insult you... That much.

If he doesn't like you, well, you neither.

You, nearly, respect him.

But you still are in a clearly inferior position then Revali.

So you don't have another choice to respect him.

He teases you every day.

Making you angry makes him kinda happy.

He thinks you look funny when you're angry.

He doesn't take you seriously 99% of the time.

Basically, Link and you must go for, kinda, the same treatment.

The worst part for you is that you past for this for literally years, since your parents were travellers, you visit a lot of places, and you lived near of the Rito village.

So, you had to see Revali's face for a long time.

Something amazing is that everyone thinks you are close to him.

Y'all got it wrong.

Couldn't be more different.

At first you did wanted to be friends, but he treated you kinda like a joke.

Going back to the present.

Revali still treats you like a joke

But now that just makes you annoyed so you keep your distance from him.

You can't do much when you, literally, are with Zelda all the time and she's always working with the Champion's.

A festival is coming to Rito Village, the elder invites all the Champions, including you.

You weren't sure to go, but even if you didn't want to, you had to, because if Zelda is there, you'll go.

You already went to that festival, it was colorful, vivid and had a great sense of home.

But when Revali was there, all of that fun go away, you may have left the festival on the moment he appeared.

You helped with the decorations, you lived almost all your life there, so you weren't a stranger to them.

Revali, surprisingly, took part of the preparations, he did loved his people.

Every Champion helped with the preparations.

Zelda was excited, she tried to hide it though, Link was... Happy? He didn't care that much, he seemed happy for Zelda.

Urbosa was interested, she had never go to one, Daruk was as much excited as Zelda, he's just always happy to be part of the celebration, Mipha was also interested in the festival, maybe she can buy some gift for Link.

Revali explained to them what they do in the festival, some archery games, for starters and professionals, a lot of traditional food and a music.

You talked with Link if he wanted to try the archery games, he agreed.

Revali just entered the conversation out of nowhere.

“Oh you want to participate on the archery competition? Be aware that I always participate and everytime I end on first place, there's no use on trying” I think I got carried with it

“Whatever you say big cucco, let's go Link, I haven't seen Zelda for a while after she went with the Rito children”

What he said to you... Kinda hurt.

You tried not think much about it.

At the day of the festival, you were always with Zelda y Link, the Champions sometimes followed but the go to something else.

Daruk and Mipha was with some kids, playing with them, Sidon was also invited so he stayed with her all the time.

Urbosa and Impa were looking everywhere, they liked the decorations.

Revali was showing off in the competitions, nothing new.

Zelda asked what you and Link wanted to do.

“Well, we were thinking about participating on one of those archery competitions but, princess, you are our priority”

“May you please forget that? Just for today, have fun, you can take this as you training time”

Link was surprised and conflicted, so do you.

“Are you sure princess?”

“Of course! I'll watch and cheer for you two, I'll tell the others, wait here” and she stormed off.

“Wait! princess- And she's gone... I think we should prepare” and Link just nodded.

Zelda returned with all the Champions, Sidon and Impa, except Revali.

They all go to the competition place, Link and you registered.

I like to think that the reader used something like the stealth mask, just because.

“Come to lose? I'm not blaming you, it's cute you want to try”

You tried to ignore him.

The competition was rather simple, you had to hit the target on the center of it and you gained points, some of the target were only available while flying, some other target's were constantly moving, other were so far away that you couldn't even see the center.

The competition was hard-fought, the three of you were almost tied, but in the final, Revali won.

“Very well... What a pleasant surprise, I could never imagine me losing to any of you two, after all, I'll be always the number one”

Now, that hurt.

Link was, as always, unbothered, but you were... Sad and really mad.

I don't think losing was the reason.

I think I making him really mean

You and Link got back with Zelda, the others noticed you were feeling down, Zelda tried to cheer you up.

“What if we go to see more of the festival? I know there's gonna be thing's you like” you appreciate her attempt's

Y'all continue walking through the festival until they announce a special dance is about to start, you and the others go to see.

You see Revali there and your mood immediately change to chill to about to go feral.

Zelda go where he was, Revali ease up when he sees her, it's the princess after all.

“Something's wrong Revali?”

“Of course not, just thing's aren't going as expected”

“What happened?”

“You are aware of the dance isn't? Well my dance partner broke their leg and nobody knows the dance except me and them”

Well... You knew the dance, you had see it since kid, but there's NO way you're gonna save his ass from embarrassment.

“Actually, I think there is someone” Urbosa stepped in the conversation.

“Really? Who?”

“Is someone you were disrespectful with no reason whatsoever, maybe if you start treating them with the respect everyone deserves and truly apologize, they might help you”

Revali got the hint immediately... And you knew.

Now, this is the moment you'd been waiting, let's see how long can he go to be honest and respect you truthfully.

Urbosa just smiled knowing that he didn't have any choice, is that or announcing he failed, and Revali hated that.

“Tsk... Fine, if it goes wrong, it's all your fault”

“You sure? Why mine and not the one who was disrespectful from the start?”

And that's how you attack the ego of a Rito.

Revali started walking towards you, he seem kinda awkward and upset.

“Not a step closer Rito champion, I know what you came for.... I have a question”

“What now?”

“You are really sorry or you just want to save yourself?”

Revali stayed silent some minutes, he wanted to say something but it didn't came out of his mouth.

“I thought so... If you're not really sorry, then don't even bother, also, you have to apologize truthfully with Link”

What? I wanted that too

“Wait.. I'm actually sorry...”

“And...?”

“It's just, I'm not used to this, I'm not use to have friends, alright? And you at the start really wanted to be one of them, and I panicked, I didn't knew how to react”

“Alright... You're leaving someone”

“Yes I know, I'm sorry Link for what I have tell you, you're... Not that bad...”

You looked at Link and he just smiled a little and nodded.

“Good try cucco, alright, I'll help you with this dance”

“You'll have to change clothing”

“...What?”

After a quick change to Rito clothing, you and Revali positioned on their places.

When the dance started, the elder was surprised, he'll have preferred a Rito partner.

But let me tell you, none of you care about it.

Revali had really smooth moves and you were light on your feet.

You finally had some fun with him.

When the dance finished, everyone started cheering and clapping, the dance was perfect!

You two went to the champion's, everyone was happy.

“What a show you two did!”

“Thanks your highness, I wasn't aware the cucco was able to dance”

“Are you kidding me? I'm better than you, obviously”

“What improvement you did”

You weren't his friend yet, but things were looking well.

“I gonna regret this... But you actually look pretty on Rito clothing”

Now, that was unexpected.

Every single one of the champions just stared at Revali completely confused.

[auroracalisto]

for the love of you—part four

summary: a fourth part to my series, “for the love of you.”  where rebekah and the reader get closer and have a bit of domestic fluff and where the mikaelsons and the reader realize what could happen if she stays around for much longer.

pairing: slightly romantic! rebekah x reader, platonic! kol x reader, elijah x reader, klaus x reader

word count: 2.1k words

warnings: mentions of death, visions, uhhhh, vampire shit.  i mean.  

a/n: now, i should have had this done some time ago. however, i'll just dedicate this edition of "for the love of you" to reaching 500 followers!!  also.  i’ve been in a mega rebekah mood lately, so that’s why she’s getting more “action” than the other siblings rn.  lmaoooo.

read part one here, part two here, and part three here.

RECAP

“—[Your name],” Elijah softly said, frowning.  "It most definitely was a vision.  However, that doesn’t mean we can’t prevent it from happening.  You were right to tell Kol, I know you were skeptical of him making fun of you.“

"Hey—”

Elijah stared at Kol, raising an eyebrow.  "You know it’s true.  You would have, had it not been something so serious.“

Kol rolled his eyes before he cleared his throat.  "I’ll go get Klaus and Rebekah.”

He left the room, leaving Elijah standing there with [Your name].  

“Are you okay?” Elijah frowned softly at her.  

[Your name] frowned.  "If it was a vision… what… what does that mean?“

Elijah frowned even more.  "Like we said with your being here.  We will figure it out.”

Soon, each of the siblings had made their way to the kitchen.  [Your name] stayed in her spot by the sink, her hand still gripping at her now warm glass of water.  

Klaus looked over at Elijah, a confused expression enveloping his handsome features.  “What’s going on?” he asked, taking a seat at the island, close beside Rebekah.  There were only two stools at the island—this led to Elijah standing across from [Your name], leaning against the countertop closest to the stove, and Kol standing at the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.  

“It seems as though [Your name] had a vision.”

Klaus turned to her, expectant to hear her vision.  

She refreshed Kol and Elijah on her vision, while giving the other two siblings new information.  But it was still as terrifying as it had been when she first relayed her vision.  Kol dying, people she had yet to meet being in her dream.  There were so many things that struck [Your name] as odd, but she still couldn’t get over the fact that she had been bitten—by what, she had yet to figure out.  

Klaus frowned deeply.  He looked towards his brother.  “I would have suggested bringing Bonnie in to figure out what brought her here, but it sounds to me like we should be avoiding each of them for the time being.”

“Agreed,” Kol spoke up from the doorway, rolling his eyes.  He was not about to be killed because the Salvatore’s wanted it to happen.  Their little human pet would not be the reason he died.  

Elijah looked back over at [Your name], frowning.  “I suppose we should tell you a couple more things.  I didn’t want to overwhelm you on your first night staying here, but a vision is sign enough that you need to know.”  He took a hold of her hand and led her over to stand in front of Rebekah and Klaus at the counter.  She sat her cup down, nervously looking at each of the siblings.  

“We are vampires,” Rebekah softly spoke, reaching out across the counter to take [Your name]’s hand.  

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t make any noise.  It made sense—if she truly had been bitten in her vision, then that would explain it.  She gave a small nod, squeezing Rebekah’s hand.  

“Okay.”

Kol blinked slowly at the girl, pushing himself off the doorframe.  “Okay?  That’s all you have to say?”

[Your name] blinked back at him in the same manner, nodding.  “There’s nothing more to say.  I… I’m not afraid of any of you.  I feel like I should be,” she couldn’t help a small smile from forming on her lips.  “But I am not afraid.”  

“You’ve no reason to be afraid,” Rebekah softly said, smiling in response.  “I do believe Kol is trying to tease, but he’s rather bad at it, isn’t he?”

[Your name] grinned, looking back over at Kol.  If he had the ability to blush, he was sure that he would have.  Kol just rolled his eyes and came over to the counter, leaning against it.  He looked at Elijah and cleared his throat with an awkward cough.  

“Well?  What will we do about it?”

“I will reach out to a couple of witches,” Elijah said.  “But until I am able to get a hold of any of them, we will all do our parts in keeping each other safe.  Kol, I advise that you stay near one of us if you go out.  If anything, try to stay home.”

Kol rolled his eyes once more.  “Whatever.”

“And [Your name],” Elijah said, turning to face the woman.  “I am sure that we will have to get you well-acquainted with Mystic Falls, despite your visions.  We will not keep you cooped up—you are in no way our prisoner.”

[Your name] watched her soulmates, giving a knowing nod.  She had a feeling that they each knew what to do, even if she felt like she was drowning in endless bouts of information.  But soon enough, things would make sense.  It had to.  

[]

The morning after their discussion, Rebekah woke [Your name] and practically forced her to get ready for the day.  Rebekah used what makeup she could on [Your name]’s face, and gave her the few hair products that [Your name] would be able to use on her own hair as well.  Some time while she was getting ready, Rebekah disappeared and then came back just minutes later with a bag filled with clothing—things that would fit [Your name] and things that she knew she would like.  

After Rebekah made her change, she finally told her what all of it was about.  

“I am taking you out,” Rebekah smiled, crossing her arms over her chest.  “You can call it what you will.  A date.  A friendly outing.  Date would work better since you are my soulmate,” she laughed softly, reaching out to take [Your name]’s hands.  “But this way, we can both get out of this stuffy manor and see what Mystic Falls has to offer.  Perhaps the more we talk, the more we get to know about each other as well.  Is… is that okay, [Your name]?” she smiled.  “I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

[Your name] faintly smiled.  “You aren’t doing anything that would make me uncomfortable.  We… should get a move on, if you want to take me anywhere specific.”

Rebekah grinned.  “I have to take you to the shopping center.  I am very aware I bought you a couple of outfits, but surely, you need more than just the items I purchased for you!”

“Rebekah,” [Your name] blushed.  “I have no money.”

“Nonsense,” Rebekah grinned, taking her hand in hers.  She leaned over to press a quick kiss to her cheek before leading her downstairs.  “You do not have to worry about anything like that while you’re out with me.  I promise.”

[]

Only hours later did [Your name] and Rebekah return to the Mikaelson Manor.  

Kol was waiting at the doorway, impatiently.  He couldn’t believe he just let Rebekah take [Your name] right from out of his nose.  

“Took you both long enough,” he huffed softly, opening the door.  He took notice of all the bags that the two of them were carrying.  His eyes softened at that.  Rebekah was just trying to make her feel at home—surely, that is what was happening.  Kol began to speak before his brain was aware of what he was saying.  “May I help you with those?”

Kol could have hit himself.  Hell, he had no idea why he was being so nice to [Your name].  Perhaps it was the fact that she was his soulmate.  But despite that, he still could have ended himself right there and saved himself the embarrassment that Rebekah would soon rain down on him.  But the smile that lightened [Your name]’s face would make the torment all worth it.  

“Yes, please,” she quickly said, moving to hand him some of the bags.  But before she knew it, Kol had grabbed every single bag she had and took it up to the guest room that she was staying in.  He didn’t show his face again, but [Your name] reminded herself to thank him later.  

Rebekah was trying to hold back her laughter as she took the bags upstairs with [Your name].

“I do not know if I’ve ever seen my brother so… flustered,” she laughed softly, sitting some of the bags on the bed and some of them on the floor.  

“You think he was flustered?” [Your name] looked over at Rebekah, smiling in return.  

“Oh, most definitely.”  

Rebekah walked over and took a hold of her hands.  “Before we start to unpack everything, why don’t we go and see if Elijah and Klaus have gotten a hold of any one?  The sooner we can figure out your vision, the better.”

It was more of a demand, rather than a question.  But [Your name] still agreed, allowing Rebekah to lead her down into the living area.  

Elijah looked up from where he sat; a woman was sitting beside him.  

Rebekah held tighter onto [Your name]’s hand, but not enough to hurt her.  

“Elijah.  What the hell?  I thought we agreed to not have Bonnie and her friends to step foot near [Your name].”

“We did,” Klaus sighed from across the room, pouring himself a drink.  “That was before Bonnie showed up, informing us that not only did she bring someone from an alternate universe to our home, but that there is no reversing the spell.” 

Klaus came over and sat across from Bonnie, keeping his eyes on her.  “And go ahead, Bonnie.  Tell them what you told us just moments before my dear sister walked in with my soulmate.” 

Bonnie flinched at the tone of his voice, but she knew that it was well-deserved.  Bonnie looked over at Rebekah and [Your name] with a deep frown.  “I had a vision.  The same one that your soulmate had,” she said, talking mostly to Rebekah.  “But instead of Kol dying, it was [Your name] who died.”

Rebekah stood there, her eyebrows furrowed.  “What do you mean?”

“It means that… that [Your name] being here is not normal.  It is changing fate and how our timeline is supposed to go.  I was reading through my grimoire and it said that it is possible that someone from an alternate reality showing up in a different timeline can completely derail how fate is supposed to go entirely, unless we send them back.  To send them back, of course, I have yet to figure that out.”

[Your name] stood there for just a minute, thoughts swimming through her head.  “What… what if I don’t want to go back?” she asked, gripping onto Rebekah’s hand.  

Bonnie grimaced.  “Then every one that you interact with could face dire consequences.” 

“Like?” [Your name] spoke, her heart pounding in her chest.  Each of the siblings could hear it.  

“Um.  Well.  Death.  Gruesome deaths, not to mention.  Mutilation.  Wiped memories.  Disasters, all around.”

The once happy expression that [Your name] held all that day had diminished within moments.  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  She didn’t want anything to happen to any of them.  She looked between each of the siblings, tears quickly forming in her eyes.  

She had only been there for a couple of days, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything were to have happened to them.  After a moment of silence, [Your name] looked at Bonnie. 

“What can we do?”

Bonnie went to stand up.  “I will be researching ways to send you back.  Until then, each of you should stay out of trouble.  Stay here.  I’ll let you know what I find.”

As Bonnie left, [Your name] looked at the siblings once more.  

“I don’t want to leave you all,” she said, tears beginning to spill.  “But I couldn’t… I can’t stay if that means each of you will get hurt.”

Rebekah let go of her hand, turning to face her.  She quickly wrapped her arms around [Your name]’s shoulders, giving her a tight hug.  [Your name] returned it, burying her face in the blonde’s neck.  

“There has to be something that we can do,” Rebekah said, her eyebrows furrowed.  “Bonnie’s magic brought her to us.  She is our soulmate,” she spoke, looking over at her older brothers.  “Surely there is some way that she can stay without it hurting everyone.” 

“If Bonnie finds a way,” Elijah said, a defeated look spreading across his features, “then [Your name] can stay.  But if not…”  It seemed like it pained Elijah to say anything else.  “If not, we cannot allow her to stay.  For our safety, and for yours, [Your name].”

[Your name] lifted her head from Rebekah’s embrace and she locked eyes with Elijah.  “I know.”

There were many times throughout their lives that the siblings felt defeated.  They could add this to their growing list of grief.  They finally found their soulmate, and now, they happened to find out that their soulmate could be the end of everything as they know it—even if she didn’t mean for it to happen.  

Rebekah slightly pulled back and pressed a soft kiss to [Your name]’s forehead.  “We will find a way to keep you here.  I will not allow you to go back to a place where you feel unwanted.  To a place where we aren’t there to keep you safe.”

[Your name] closed her eyes, appreciating her kind words, but the only thing that she could think about was the fact that she would be the Mikaelson siblings undoing.  

[anntoldst0ries]

shinrin-yoku (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.7k, PG Summary: When life's difficulties hit, Noelle navigates her way through them by turning to the nature. Category: Hurt & Comfort Warnings: mentions of trauma

A/N: May is a Mental Health Awareness month and here in the UK the theme is nature. My MC, just like me, runs to the woods when things get tough. It helps her clear her head and reconnect with inner strength.

I struggle with mental health myself and it’s important for me to speak up and address the subject. There is nothing worse than shaming or discrediting someone’s difficult feelings. It’s fine not to be fine.

If you struggle alone, please don’t. My inbox will welcome you with open arms. Two heads are better than one, even if we just complain, at least we can complain together 💜

For @choicesmaychallenge2021 Day 13 - Mental Health

SHINRIN-YOKU - A Japanese term for ‘forest bathing’ or the sense of well-being you experience while in nature.

~~

It all starts with a seed. This tiny element which, without aid, is sentenced to certain death. But give it the right soil. Give it water, sun. And it can grow. Into something big. Powerful. Scary.

~~

She is five years old.

They live in a townhouse, a classy Victorian era building. Undistinguished, one of many merging into the background of a typical London street. The colors are also very standard,  dirty white married to ivory beige, bar for the deep green door - their rebel child.

For the random passerby, it’s nothing special. But for her, the walls of a storey house encapsulate the whole world.

The garden behind the house is neat and clean, visibly well taken care of. She doesn’t remember exact details anymore, but she remembers begging her parents to go camping in the garden with her brother. The ticklish feeling of long and slim blades of grass on her tiny feet. Looking at the stars with pure awe and delight, that only the unspoiled mind of a child is capable of.

The plot of land that the house has been built on borders a beautiful forest. A wooden fence separates the two.

To her, it’s a passage to a magical world.

A world without any particular order, living its own life, unconstricted by rules. Not in the slightest does it resemble the garden on her side of the fence, where things grow according to the rules laid out by the adults.

There is a feeling inside her that she’s too young to name, to throw it in lingual context. It’s not until years later that she realized what it had been. Freedom. To grow however you please. To be what you want to be.

Robust, effuse trees tower over her, making her feel so small. As if she hasn’t already been feeling small enough, living in a world full of giants.

But they mean something else too. They bring a secret and a promise. Promise of a bigger world out there, far from the confines of the place she calls home.

The forest draws her, singing a melody that only her heart can understand. One day, she will be a part of it.

~~

She lives the teenage dream life.

That’s what everyone says.

She doesn’t have any real problems. She’s lucky not having to worry about money. She’s got friends. Her family is great. She just needs to stop whining. Her life is perfect.

Their words, not hers.

None of them know what happens behind closed doors.

The childhood forest is a cloudy memory. Her home is now thousands of miles away, in a city with a giant red bridge, which for some bizarre reason has ‘golden’ in its name.

But the call from nature doesn’t care about distance. It can find you about anywhere. It’s different and yet the same.

Because nature beats in one rhythm and speaks in the same language, everywhere.

The morning is chilly and humid. She’s wearing a wooly coat, carelessly threw on a pair of PJs hiding underneath.

Her steps are brisk, breathing short and heartbeat elevated. Something’s bothering her blanched face.

The voice, again.

When it first appeared, she thought it had her best interest at heart. Used to give her advice and like a good friend, ream her out when she did something bad.

Over time, things took a turn for the worse.

Snarky comments. Casually mentioned wrongdoings. Feedback on what she could have done better, differently.

Noelle hoped the voice would go away on its own.

It hasn’t.

Not only did the voice not go away, but it was actually growing stronger with each passing day. Became more vocal. Judgmental. Openly hostile.

It fed on her fears.

It’s your fault - it told her - that your parents are getting divorced.

You are not good enough.

Even a lie, repeated enough times, will finally become the truth. And so it did for her, to the point where she couldn’t distinguish her own voice from the voice of the tormentor. Sounds faded into one.

Whoever said words can cut like a knife was right. But those who knew thoughts could leave scars that are much deeper, were truly wise.

The young, beautiful girl who never hurt a soul, became a hostage. A prisoner locked in the jail of her own head.

A giant tear rolled down her face. Made of all the words her heart couldn’t say.

She hugged the tree tightly and inhaled the woodsy aroma, the scent filling her lungs fully.

It’s sensuous.

Just like that, she is small again.

~

She’s got all that she ever wanted.

Degree from one of the best medical schools. Graduating with honors and glowing recommendations from even the strictest professors, who kept assuring her that her future in medicine is so bright it’s actually blinding. Then, a dreamy residency in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country.

Pretty impressive, right? Even a fool could see that. But the only fool whose opinion she cared about, couldn’t. All these things were clearly not good enough for Ethan Ramsey to stay.

She wasn’t good enough for him to stay.

Not longer than a year ago he was just a concept, an ideal without a face, body and voice. To her, he was a celebrity, a hero, someone whom mortals don’t have access to.

It was preposterous to consider for even a second Dr Ramsey could actually see something in an intern.

Standing among the moss-covered trees, every fiber of her being was filled with the thought of him.

Did the Amazonian forest remind him of her, just like every forest around reminded her of him?

Just when she won the battle for her career, she lost another. Because life had to be a zero-sum game.

As painful as that would have been, she wished she had something to hold onto. A scene she could replay in her mind. An image of him walking away. Or saying goodbye.

But he left without a word.

That was the pattern. That was history repeating itself.

She took her shoes off and stepped on the soil frosted with morning dew. It’s cold and wet. It’s refreshing. She is grounding. Reconnecting with Earth.

Tunes in with the rivers of grass, towers of trees, fences of bushes.

If the trees could speak, they’d tell stories not many people would believe in.

Tales of heartbreaks. Parables of spirits.

They are all nature’s poems.

Hauntingly beautiful. Riveting. Written without a single word.

Because nature speaks its very own language that only the soul, not the mind, can understand.

Pain is ripping her apart. But it reminds her that she’s alive. And this, in itself, is a miracle.

~~

She doesn’t know who she is anymore.

Some people call her a survivor. But it doesn’t feel like the right word. So many things in her died. So much was lost.

The attack took a lot from her. Danny. Bobby. Sense of security. Identity. Direction.

Right and wrong, good and bad, righteous and vicious. These are all just words. Someone needs to come and teach her the meaning of them anew. Draw lines, mark out frontiers. Save her from herself.

The ground is soaked. Torrential rain turned the soil into soft mud, warm and easily slipping through her fingers. She falls on her knees, praying for the ground to consume her.

Fill every part of her. Silence the internal cacophony. To sink into oblivion.

Not many people knew about the panic attacks and recurring nightmares. They’re always the same.

She’s standing in the middle of a swamp. Danny and Bobby are drowning, their arms reaching out for her. She knows she can only save one of them. She runs out of time trying to figure out how to save both. As a result, they both die. Time stands still and yet everything is spinning, moving, racing. The reality is a riot of overbright colours.

Suddenly, a ring breaks the silence. A polyphonic intruder. She looks at the screen through hooded eyes and notices the caller’s name. It’s him. He’s petrified. Worried to death. Asks her to stay where she is.

Some time later, maybe 10 minutes, maybe an hour - who knows? - he emerges from the gathering of stocky oaks.

The moment he catches the sight of her, he starts running. She notices a lab coat underneath the jacket. He’s soaking wet.

Even though he is so close, he doesn’t slow down. Crashing into her, he scoops her in his arms. Catches her in the tightest of embraces.

Asks her if she’s fine. No. Not that question again. She’s tired of people fussing over her and gets angry.

Had it not been for the attack, would he even be here? The voice asks mockingly. It doesn’t matter to her. He’s there now.

Deep baritone is gentle and full of concern. It’s not like that. It’s not his intention to fuss. He’s simply worried. Because she is the most important thing to him in the whole world. Yes, he wasted so much time. That’s why he refuses to lose even one more second.

A dam breaks within her. Eliciting a quiet sob. She clutches his shirt, holds onto him for dear life. Moments later, she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Singing her poignant birdsong.

How is she supposed to cope? Will things ever go back to normal? What is normal anyway?

In the confines of the infamous patient room she never felt more scared in her life. But here, out in the open, she feels so safe. As if she’s had a silent agreement with nature, which vouched to protect her at all costs.

And this time, nature had an ally. Because Ethan will protect her, even if it’s the last thing he does. Holding onto each other, they stand in the nothingness.

It keeps them grounded. Connected to their roots. Turning over new leaves. Bending before they break. Growing.

They get lost. Mother Nature has a reward for those who do. They have a chance to find themselves. Over and over again.

~~~

If you made it this far - thank you & you're awesome 🥰

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