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syntheticsymp · 2 months ago

Note

OK, I’ve been obsessed with that man for YEARS and that post about Nikto is one of my biggest headcanons (although there are also other drugs that do the same thing but do the opposite by increasing libido… so I’m sure if he/they knew they’d switch him off immediately, just so he could have his precious little thing shaking and screaming desperately for him, lol). So, figuring he still has dysfunction issues and is a very proud man, I think he’d be pretty good with his hands… I mean, he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum and he’ll prove it… (although I wouldn’t mind using it as a pacifier… ehh… just saying…).

*forehead kiss* Babes, I love the way your brain works. I am obsessed with this. Just thinking about this scenario gave me so many ideas. Nikto is one of the characters I love writing most for because his personality/personalities are so complex. I'd love to hear more of your headcannons because this man deserves more in-depth analysis.

If Nikto’s libido was high, god save his girl. He's not a kind man in the slightest, meaning you'd practically be a living sex toy for him. Round after round, not caring if you passed out on him, which you did many times.

Luckily, his medication was switched back about a week later after he got on it. But not before you were thoroughly molded to fit his stupidly thick cock. You sported a small limp for about a month, but Nikto didn't seem to mind carrying you room to room. It was the closest he could get to apologizing to you.

However, going back on his regular meds came with another problem. His ED was far worse than before. He went to KorTac’s doctor for it, but after being told there wasn't a good solution unless he wanted to go off meds altogether, he put that doctor’s head through a wall. His poor girl would stay empty for a long time. That's what truly irked him, the idea that you would forget how he feels inside you. That you would see him as inadequate. It didn't matter how many times you assured him otherwise, the voices in the back of his head were loud enough to speak over you.

Nikto was never good with affection. The two ways he knew how to show it was either physically doing something for you, or sex. Now that the latter was off the table, he was trying something more… your speed. It wasn’t really working. He wasn’t exactly one for change.

You, on the other hand, were growing used to him. His violent mood swings, what to do during his episodes, everything. The life you had before him was fading the longer you stayed locked inside with him. You started minding this less and less. After all, he claimed he loved you.

Though, he could only give you the closest thing to love he was capable of, if he was capable of love at all.

His hand lazily pet your head as he read some book in Russian. You were perched between his legs, cheek resting against his thigh, lazily pressing kisses to his soft cock. You alternated between that, licking fat stripes down his shaft, and sucking on his one remaining ball. He had lost the other during Mr. Z’s torture, that much he had told you. Occasionally, he'd give you a grunt of recognition, communicating that he appreciated your actions. Though, his lips stayed shut.

This wasn't for sexual reasons. He got nothing out of this, no pleasure aside from the knowledge that he had you wrapped around his finger. Which, oh, he loved seeing you so desperate that you'd suck so diligently on his cock, soft or not. But you knew the truth. You knew this was a tactic to keep you close and quiet while he read his book. You didn't mind, not really.

At least whatever medicine he was on now kept his libido at a dismal. Keeping up with him otherwise would be a nightmare.

Most of your nights with him, when he wasn't disassociating or trying to kill you, were like this. Quiet. Content. Nikto and his little pet. No brutality bleeding over from his job, no voices convincing him to choke you out, just silent affection. He was trying so hard to prove he wasn't rotted on the inside, that he loved you.

Then, Krueger decided to make a comment at work. That man was single-handedly the reason for most of Nikto’s bad moods. Usually, Nikto could block out his partner’s constant dirty jokes and babbling about old war stories, but some things he took a little too personally.

“How’s that little birdy of yours doing?”

That was enough to stop Nikto in his tracks. How had Krueger known about you? It wasn’t like Nikto had told him, or anyone for that matter. You were his, his to keep, his to protect. If your name got out at work, you could get hurt. Nikto knew the consequences of loose lips all too well.

So, Nikto didn’t answer. A glare would do.

He greatly underestimated his teammate’s need to harass whoever was closest. Most people assumed Nikto was the cruelest of the duo, when in reality, it was Krueger. He may hide it behind his signature toothy grin, but Krueger was downright evil, if evil truly existed. The only reason he hadn’t been fired was because he was a valuable asset. KorTac needed its monsters. No sane person would go on the missions Krueger and Nikto did so willingly.

“She’s cute,” Krueger continued. “If she ever needs a proper fuck, send her to me. Poor thing deserves someone who can actually make her come.”

It had been a joke. Nikto knew that. He worked with Krueger for long enough to know how the Austrian messed around. Still, that didn’t stop the comment from replaying in Nikto’s mind over and over. The voices whispered it to him over and over.

Even two days later, when he finally arrived home from deployment, it was still on his mind.

He could make you come. He had done so before, on the rare occasion that the medicine didn’t betray him. Sure, it hadn’t been recent, but he could. Besides, you cared about him anyway. You promised him you did. You wouldn’t lie to him.

Right?

He willed his brain to shut up as he took off his muddy boots, puttng them in their place by the door. It was late. You were probably asleep by now. He could simply get your reassurnce in the morning.

But, then again, why should he have to wait? He had been patient enough when finding you, carefully stalking you, bidding his time before bringing you here. Now that you were his, he shouldn’t have to wait.

Nikto didn’t care to use his stealth training when he moved through his house. He lived there, after all.

He pushed the door to his bedroom open, only to find it empty. Once again, the voices started whispering their honeyed poison.

She must have left us!

You were foolish to leave her.

Krueger was right. You couldn’t please her. You’re the reason we are alone.

Using the heel of his palm, he hit his temple. Did it help? Not really. But it gave him a reprieve, the feeling of physically beating the voices in his head back helping in its own way.

“Nikto?”

He snapped out of his daze. The voices receded. They weren’t far, just at his fingertips, but quieted enough that he could hear you through the fog.

“Yes.” His words were detached, like always. “It is us.”

You were sleeping on the couch, the pink blanket he had purchased for you when you first ‘moved in’ wrapped around your shoulders. You must have stayed up late watching one of your silly TV programs again.

“Are you…” It was important you choose your next words carefully. Nikto was never ‘ok’ and if you brought that up, it would cause a conversaion you did not feel like having at three in the morning. Asking about his deployment would only lead to reliving the memories, and then send his mind right back to that mindset. “Are you my Nikto?”

He nodded. Yes, of course, he was yours. Not the violent alter ego, not the one that wanted to watch you squirm and cry. No, he was the closest personality to sane that existed in his mind.

Sitting up a little straighter, you scooted over to the side of the couch, then pat the spot beside you. Oh, to think six months ago you were doing whatever you could to escape him.

Instead of joining you, Nikto took off his mask. You no longer stared at his scars, they had become more familiar to you than any normal facial structure. The chunk of missing flesh where his cheek once was, exposing his teeth, and the chemical burns that singed off most of his ear and molded part of his eye shut was simply the only face you knew. His short hair was messy with sweat from being hidden in that mask for so long.

Then, he placed his hand on the back of your neck, leaning down to meet you. He pressed his lips to yours forcefully, parting his lips to allow his tongue to slip through. He didn’t waste time when it came to tasting you, he never did.

The sleepy moan that escaped your parted lips was the closest thing a monster like him could get to heaven. Your mouth was warm in a way he was always chasing, hoping that it could somehow thaw the cold that had taken over his heart.

With your half-closed eyes and sleepy state, he quickly had you pinned to the couch, his hands shoving the blankets to the side.

You pulled back for just a moment to breathe before he pulled your back in. He needed to forget about the battlefield, about Krueger, about the voices constantly reminding him of himself. He breathed you in, lungs rattling, the long, scarred-over slit on the side of his nose causing a familiar whistle,

He kept you caged, pressing his crotch against yours. Only to find, once again, that he was soft.

He pulled back, hissing beneath his breath. Your eyes were wide, your eyelashes fluttering in a way that was so delectable. He wanted to fuck you, he knew he did. So why couldn’t he?

Maybe Krueger was right. What kind of man was Nikto if he couldn’t even fill you with his seed? Not that he wanted any of those snot-filled brats, but with you, he still wanted the option. He wanted you all round and pretty for him.

Instead, you were stuck with something broken. A damaged man who had thought he was worthy of you. You were his, he made sure of it. Yet there was always that doubt.

Seeing he had stopped, you started to scoot out from under him. Only for his hand to find it’s natural place on your throat, squeezng enough to keep you still. You had been in this position enough times to know that the worst possible thing to do was to fight him.

“You have been good for us while we were gone, yes?” He hummed, his Russian accent always seeming stronger after he had been gone for so long.

With the pressure on your windpipe, you could only get out a few words. “Yes. I-I have.”

The corners of his lips twitched up and his scars twisted in a way that looked painful. “Then a reward is overdue.”

Your eyes widened as his hand went to push up the shirt you had stolen from him to wear. Like always, you weren’t wearing pants. He never allowed you to, and always threw a fit if you did. Another one of his strange rules. Even if he couldn’t use your pussy the way he wanted to, he still wanted access.

He swiped his finger agonizingly slow up your slit, not entering, simply collecting your slick.

You shuttered underneath him, an action so innocent he couldn’t help finding so beautiful all on its own. All your little reactions, he had them committed to memory.

“Nik-“ You squeaked, nearly going cross-eyed. He hadn’t been intimate with you in a way that stimulated you in a long time. It had only made you that much more desperate.

“Needy thing,” he tutted. “Did you miss us that much?”

The words falling from his lips did nothing to distract you from the way he pressed his thumb against your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves between his fingers. The scars and ridges embedded into his skin rubbed against you in a way that was impossibly perfect.

“Yes!” You blurted out, “I missed you, all of you, so much!”

Tears began to form behind your eyes, and for once, they weren’t caused by pain. He inserted his pointer finger, slowly sinking it into the joint as your walls clenched around him. It wasn't as thick as his cock, but it wasn't bad. With his thumb, he kept stimulating pressure on your clit.

Back, years ago, when Nikto was still ‘Andre,’ he had been a bit of a playboy. His face was handsome in all the right ways, with a sharp jawline and nice facial harmony. Girls, and a few guys, often had interest in him, but he rarely reciprocated any genuine feelings. Nobody ever said he was a good man before he became a monster. He had left many girls crying after breaking up with them, not so much as batting an eye at their tears. But that experience gave him something. The man knew how to use his hands.

Granted, he hadn’t had to in some time, but he certainly remembered. Besides, it wasn't too hard to please you.

He curled his finger inside of you, causing you to squirm beneath him. Then, he started pumping.

Each motion was slow and deliberate. When he was having sex with you, the few times he could, they were all rapid and frenzied, like he was more animal than human. Whatever he was giving to you now was different. Soft, but causing stars in your eyes.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, clinging desperately. It wasn't like you to get worked up so easily, but something about his languid touch, how his finger fit inside you, was other-worldly. The fabric of his hoodie was bunched in your palms as you moaned beneath him.

Warmth pooled in your stomach.

Then, Nikto suddenly pulled his hand away, leaving you as empty as you were before.

“Hey!” You squeaked out, sitting straight up, only for him to push you back down.

The look in his blue eyes was familiar. Dangerous.

At that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t truly for you. Nikto wasn't trying to get you off just to make you happy, even if it was some twisted type of ‘reward.’ He was doing this for himself.

“You do not come until we say so.” He bit out the words like they owe him money, his R’s rolled in a way that was simply delectable.

You nodded quickly, doing whatever it took to get him to continue.

And, after a moment, he did. He resumed toying with your clit, his easy thrusts, he even threw in a second finger once he thought you could handle it. You picked up on his rhythm, practically humping his hand. Perhaps you truly did miss him.

Your first orgasm came easy. Hot, thick spurts of cum slid down his hand, wetting the cuff of his hoodie, leaving you breathless. You expected him to pull his fingers back out after that.

He did not.

He picked up right back where he left off, the aftershocks of your orgasm leaving you even more sensitive.

“Hang on, wait,” you tried to say and move away.

Only to once again find his free hand on your throat, holding you down. This time, he was not as kind to your pussy. His thrusts got deeper, harsher. And those damned baby-blue eyes were fixated on the way you took him. The way your cunt swallowed his fingers, the cum sqeulching as he pushed in, made him swallow.

“No.”

Making you cum once was not enough. He had so much lost time to make up for. Curling his fingers in, thrusting so deep he swore he could feel your womb, sloppily making out to swallow your moans, it was all he ever needed.

You lost count of how many times you came. He did not. A chorus of your screams and his rough, Russian words filled his home. Luckily for him, the two of you were far enough away from society that nobody would walk in. He didn't have to hold back or muffled your pretty voice.

The night dragged on for hours, his hands never seeming to get tired. Nikto had the training of a soldier and the endurance of one as well. Not even the devil himself could pull him off of you. All he could do was stare at you, never growing tired of your expressions, the ratio of pleasure to pain finally at a balance.

It was around seven in the morning when Nikto decided he was done with your reward. You had passed out around twenty minutes earlier and couldn't take another round, not even unconscious. So he scooped you up and finally, finally took you to bed. While he didn't need sleep, you did.

He brushed your hair out of your face as you lay in his lap. You were just awake enough to tug gently at the elastic of his pants.

With a small twitch of his lips, Nikto did as you wanted, and pulled down his pants just enough to free himself. Even after everything he did to you, every mind-numbingly hot face you made, he was still soft.

But, for whatever reason, he no longer felt guilty about it. How could he, when you sleepily slipped the thing into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip, just wanting to have him there.

This was probably his favorite ‘welcome home’ he had ever received after a deployment. His fears had been wiped away so easily.

Nikto had no clue why Krueger’s words had gotten to him. Clearly, Nikto could make his precious little thing cum as many times as you needed, as many as he wanted. And you seemed more than happy to fall asleep on his lap, face buried in his crotch, using his cock as a pacifier. He was wrong to ever doubt that.

You were made for him just as he was made for you. Forever and always, you were his.

#call of duty #cod x reader #nikto x you #nikto x y/n #mwii nikto #andre nikto #nikto imagine #nikto x reader #cod nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto #nikto fanfic #smut

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zegrasdrysdale · 1 year ago

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[ 5 more minutes ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : Luke’s girlfriend surprises him in Newark after his last college hockey game

warning(s) : none really. just very fluffy and emotional. also very short bc it was 1 am when i came up w this idea

author’s note : in honor of today being my last day as an ncaa student athlete, i quickly wrote this up. i was feeling very emotional and i needed a way to express how i felt. hence why we now have a very fluffy / emotional fic. some of the comments luke makes are some of my thoughts about how my own season ended yesterday. it’s kinda sad but it had to be done. you’re welcome (i think ?)

༺═──────────────═༻

Jack texts her when he has picked up his younger brother from the airport. She begins to pace around the living room of Jack’s apartment that he’s now going to be sharing with Luke.

She has no clue what state Luke is going to be in when he walks through the door. He’s probably going to be so pissed that he spent the last two minutes or so of his college career in the penalty box instead of on the ice or on the bench with his teammates. He’s been so busy traveling that he hasn’t had time to sit and reflect on the season.

That’s the reason that she hopped on a flight to Newark as soon as the clock hit zero against Quinnipac. She just wanted to make sure that he’s okay before he goes and signs his NHL contract in two days and joins Jack on the Devils.

Either he’s going to be really upset and pissed or he’s going to be excited to start the next chapter in his career. She has no idea which version of Luke she’s going to get.

Keys jingle in the door about a half hour after Jack texts her to let her know he has Luke. She stops pacing and stands in the middle of the living room. Her eyes are on the door as Jack pushes it open.

“… not really in the mood for any surprises,” Luke says as he walks through the door. “I’m so tired.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” Jack tells his brother as he shuts the door behind them. Luke drops the big duffel bag that contains his hockey gear on the floor by the door in the foyer area. Then he finally makes his way to the living room with his suitcase.

He freezes mid-step when he sees his girlfriend.

With a small wave and a smile, she says, “Hi, Lukey.”

Luke crosses the room in five strides because of his stupidly long legs. He envelops her in a hug and buries his face in her neck. She wraps her arms around his torso and they stand like that for what feels like an eternity.

She doesn’t mind. If it means that Luke’s okay then she’ll stand like this forever.

She presses soft kisses into his shoulder and whispers to him, “I’m so proud of you, Luke. So incredibly proud of you. I know that’s not how you wanted the season to end but you did everything you could, and for that I am so, so proud of you.”

A quiet sob wracks Luke’s body as he pulls back from the hug. She sees tears in his eyes and frowns. A couple roll down his cheek and she reaches up to wipe them away. Jack silently sneaks out of the apartment. He thinks he’s slick but she saw him leave behind Luke.

“I hated that I wasnt out there those last two minutes,” he tells her, voice shaky. “Maybe I could’ve done something that pushed the game into overtime or won it for us. Instead I was in the penalty box while my team had to fight even harder to get goals because they were down a man.”

“I know, baby,” she softly replies. “I wish I could’ve given you guys five more minutes. You all fought so hard. So fucking hard. I’m so sorry that’s how your season ended.”

More tears roll down Luke’s cheeks and she continues to wipe them away.

“I feel like I let them down,” he whispers. “I could’ve fought harder for them. For this season. I let them down when they needed me most and now I’m abandoning them.” His words break her heart.

She shakes her head and cups his jaw. “You didn’t let anyone down,” she tells him. “You did what you could in the sixty minutes you had. They know that and they will always remember how hard you fought for them. You’re so important to everyone on that team and you played such an important role in getting as far as you did as a team. They’re just as proud of you as I am because you are about to start an amazing new chapter in your hockey career. You aren’t abandoning them, Luke. They want you to move forward in your career. They understand that you’re ready and that this is what you want.”

Luke nods and wraps his hands around her wrists. She continues to look up at her boyfriend.

She’ll never understand how he feels because she isn’t an athlete. All she can do now is try to help him realize that he isn’t the worst teammate that he thinks he is at the moment. She doesn’t want him to have that mindset as he transitions from college to the NHL.

Losing is tough in any sport. She knows that much and she is going to make sure that Luke understands that it is okay to feel this way but that he also has to get ready to move forward.

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a moment of comfortable silence. “Sorry I’m such a mess. I didn’t think it would affect me this much.”

“It just shows how much you love every team that you’re on,” she replies. “You dedicate so much time to hockey because you love it. You’re allowed to feel this way and feel it for a little bit. You do have a contract to sign in a few days so I’m giving you tonight to get out everything you feel about the Michigan season ended. Tomorrow, it’s time to get excited. I’m here to help you get excited.”

A smile finally cracks through the frown that’s been plastered on Luke’s face since he saw her. She dries his cheeks one more time before she pulls him back into a hug.

Luke presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you,” he says into her hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up. Yes you do,” she retorts. “I love you too. Let’s go get you unpacked then we can take a nap because I heard you tell Jack how tired you are.”

When she pulls away from the hug and starts to walk to his suitcase, Luke grabs her hand and pulls her back to him. She looks up at him for a quick second before his lips are on hers. The kiss surprises her because of how emotional he is, but sometimes a kiss is all it takes to feel better.

She happily smiles into the kiss and runs her fingers through his curls as she returns it. It’s one of his favorite things she does so many he’ll start to feel better a little faster. Luke loves feelings her fingers in his curls. It’s the reason he doesn’t try to tame them.

The front door opens again and a voice says, “Okay, we are establishing some rules. Rule one, the door stays open three inches when your girlfriend is over. I don’t need any babies crying in my apartment at three in the morning right now.”

They both pull back and she looks behind Luke at Jack, who has a disgusted look on his face. She smiles but Luke’s cheeks turn a tomato red. She laughs and shakes her head.

“Rule two,” Jack continues. “No making out anywhere I can see you. That means the-”

“Jack!” Luke snaps. “I get it. We get it. Also, I’m not going to be leaving my door open three inches. If I want to have sex with my girlfriend then I’m going to. It’s my room and we split the rent now so I’ll do what I want.”

“None of that premarital kissing stuff where I can see or hear it,” Jack tells his brother. “I don’t need that in my life.”

She laughs and takes the opportunity to grab Luke’s bag and suitcase. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We won’t traumatize you. Again.”

Both Luke and his girlfriend laugh as they make their way to Luke’s new room, leaving a disgusted and definitely traumatized Jack Hughes in the living room.

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buddiedreams · 6 months ago

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falling together | 1.8k, buddie

read here on AO3

rating: general tags: Falling In Love, Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Eddie Diaz Loves Evan "Buck" Buckley, Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley Loves Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley is Christopher Diaz's Parent, Accidental Relationship

They never even get together, is the thing. Not officially, anyway. Chris came back from Texas three weeks after Tommy dumped him, and a week after that, he found out that his building was being sold and converted into condos, which he definitely couldn’t afford, even if he wanted to (which he didn’t; the loft had always been more of a place to crash than his actual home). He’d bitched about the situation to Eddie that Friday night, after Chris had already ditched them to play online video games with his friends. Eddie had frowned and suggested that Buck crash with them while he was looking for a new apartment and… well. Buck is only a man. He’d agreed almost immediately, even if it meant sleeping on Eddie’s way too small couch for the foreseeable future.

In his defense, he did look for an apartment. He looked for three months for anything even slightly habitable, but with the housing market stupidly inflated and Buck living off the salary of a public servant, there was basically nothing that was available, unless he wanted roaches. Or a studio apartment, which he was vehemently against. He was an adult, he deserved an actual bedroom. Sue him.

And anyway, it wasn’t like Eddie and Chris were trying to kick him out. Actually, it felt like the opposite, most of the time. He and Eddie split the housework, he took over cooking and Eddie took dishes, and it actually worked so seamlessly that Buck was a little shocked. Obviously, he and Eddie are a well-oiled machine at work, but it was good to know that extended to domestic life too. And it was nice to consistently have other people to try his recipes on. He and Eddie ended up carpooling more often than not, which meant he got to tag along when Eddie picked Chris up after school, and Buck… well, Chris is his favorite Diaz, he can’t be blamed if he wants to spend as much time as possible with the kid, especially since he’s getting old enough to realize that hanging out with his—with him and Eddie wasn’t exactly cool, when he had friends to talk to and video games to play.

And honestly… it was kind of nice to be around people whenever he wanted. Eddie and Chris are his favorite people, so it’s not exactly a hardship to be around them, and it was especially nice after a rough shift. Before, he’d go back to his loft alone and try to sleep away the crawling of his skin caused by a bad shift, and especially by a loss on the job. After basically moving in with the Diaz boys, though, he gets to see his favorite kid and give him a good squeeze. Chris seems to be able to tell when they’ve had a bad shift, and lets them be a bit clingier than he normally would. Plus, he’s got Eddie to lean on, since they’re usually going through the same thing. It’s… it’s nice.

He’s been there six months when Eddie nervously comes out to him over the lunch they’re sharing at the kitchen table. Buck really hadn’t seen that one coming, and it makes something odd happen in his stomach, but he grins and reaches over to squeeze Eddie’s hand, telling him how proud of him he is and how honored he is to know. Eddie visibly deflates and shoots him an exhausted grin, squeezing Buck’s hand back.

They don’t talk about it, but there’s a shift after that day. Eddie is more open about the discovery process that led to his coming out, and how he’d been to see Bobby’s priest, who had actually managed to help him. It seemed like a weight was lifted off his shoulders once he’d come out to Buck, and a warmth Buck wasn’t very familiar with settled into his bones.

They still don’t talk about it, even after the admission leads to more casual touching between them. Buck’s always craved physical affection, and Eddie idly admits that he’s trying to get better at expressing his affection with people other than Chris, and he’s still uncomfortable doing it with words. And it’s not like Buck is going to stop him. His skin always feels so tingly and flushed after Eddie’s hand touches it, always leaving a pleased smile on his lips.

They don’t talk about it when the casual touches turn to less and less personal space. When he slips behind Eddie to show him the proper way to chop an onion, or how to flambé safely (thank you, Bobby). Or when Eddie says one day that it’s stupid for Buck to keep sleeping on the couch if he’s going to keep staying here, that Eddie has a perfectly good bed and it’s not like they haven’t slept in the same bed before, more than once.

They don’t talk about it when sharing Eddie’s bed leads to spending far too long whispering to each other in the safe darkness of the room, admitting all their deepest fears and, even scarier, their deepest wants. Buck admits, for the first time out loud, that all he wants is to feel like he belongs to someone. Maddie has Chimney, Hen has Karen, Bobby has Athena. And Buck longs for that, longs for a relationship like that. For someone to have his back. For someone to truly be his partner.

They don’t talk about it when Buck realizes that he’s in love with his best friend, and even scarier, that he has been for god only knows how long. That’s not something he can voice, even in the darkness of their bedroom (because it is their bedroom, Buck’s been sleeping there for two months by this point, his clothes are taking up half the closet, and Eddie’s sleeping in one of his old LAFD shirts). But god does he long to. He wants nothing more than to close the small distance between them and wrap his arms around Eddie, never let go, but it’s not his place. He’s not going to fuck up the one healthy relationship he’s had in his life, not for anything.

They don’t talk about it when the late-night talks turn to what can only be described as cuddling. But again, Buck’s never been one to turn down physical affection, and Eddie’s not complaining. In fact, Eddie is the one that’s more often than not seeking Buck out, pulling his arm over Eddie’s torso as they’re falling asleep.

They don’t talk about it when the flirting starts. They’d spent a rare Friday night off out with their coworkers, getting stupidly drunk and catching up on all the things going on in everyone’s lives. Maddie and Chimney are out for the first time since Kevin Daniel Han was born, and they both look exhausted but so stupidly happy that Buck can’t help but think about Eddie and Chris, and how adorable Eddie is with his son. He doesn’t even realize he’s said as much out loud until Eddie’s cheeks turn a cute rosy color, and it takes all the strength in Buck’s body to keep from leaning over and kissing the spots. That seems to open a dam, though, because after that he and Eddie are trading sincere compliments back and forth whenever they think of them, which quickly devolves into funny pick-up lines when they’ve run out of compliments. The pick-up lines keep going for weeks, until one day, hands still wet from doing the dishes, Eddie grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him.

They still don’t talk about it, but… nothing has really changed. They keep kissing (which Buck can honestly say is his absolute favorite thing in the world, he’d like nothing more than to die happily with Eddie’s lips on his) and trading flirtatious jokes and compliments. They don’t even talk about it when the kissing inevitably leads to sex. It seems silly, but Buck doesn’t even think they need to. He’s known how to read Eddie like a book for over eight years at this point, he knows they’re on the same page of the exact same book.

They don’t even really talk about it when they get engaged. They’d had a bad shift and Buck had admitted in the darkness that he feels like Chris is his son. Eddie had smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, softly admitting that Chris had been his son at least since the well, and then quietly asking if Buck would consider adopting him. Buck had failed spectacularly at choking back the tears the question had prompted, but Eddie had just smiled and brushed them away. Buck agreed (obviously, he’s not an idiot) and Eddie offhandedly mentioned that it would be easier to do if they were married, before pulling Buck’s arm around him and promptly falling asleep, like he hadn’t just chucked a grenade into the middle of their bed. Buck spends a majority of the night staring into the darkness, absolutely dumbfounded. He’s not even mad when Eddie and Chris wake him at lunch time and present him with a ring, which he eagerly accepts.

That’s what breaks the streak, in fact. That night, when they’re laying in bed, Eddie finally addresses whatever they’ve been dancing around for the first time.

“I know we haven’t really talked about this, about us,” he whispers, shifting around to face Buck, “but is it… you’re okay with it? With this, with me and Chris being who you belong to?”

Buck swallows against the sudden rush of emotion that tears through him at Eddie referencing one of the first midnight chats they’d had. And any other time, any other relationship, maybe he’d be anxious about how little they’ve faced what they are, how they’ve barely addressed it with their loved ones but really… nothing has changed. At least, nothing important. Sure, he’s allowed to kiss Eddie now, and have sex with him, but other than that, their relationship is the same as it’s always been. They’re best friends.

“I… I don’t think I realized it when I said it originally, but I think I was just waiting for this. For you. Both of you, but mostly just waiting until you were ready, I guess,” he whispers back, smiling when Eddie’s fingers thread through his own. “Besides, I’ve really always belonged to you and Chris, if we’re being honest. It’s why none of my relationships ever worked. I was trying to fill a role that was already occupied,” he admits, bringing their hands up to press a kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand. “It sorta feels like this was inevitable. Does that… make sense?”

He can’t see it, given the darkness currently surrounding them, but he can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice. “The inevitability of us just… falling together like we have? Yeah, Buck, honestly? That makes more sense than anything else in my life ever has.”

#buddie #911 #buddie fanfic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #my writing #911 on abc

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milesmolasses · 2 years ago

Text

they’re just people (42miles x african!reader)

— this was a request that I very stupidly deleted

— idek how I fricken did it bruh just read the fic 😭

— miles is nervy cause he’s meeting ur family.

— ⚠️: unedited, reader and miles are aged up to be 17-18 (because it makes sense. what african parent do you know who is letting their child date at 15??), miles having a cute moment with his mom <3

— “senator style” dressing is very common among men in nigeria. look it up and you’ll see what i’m talking about

“you need to calm down.”

you could feel the anxiety radiating off of your boyfriend from a mile away as he was pacing up and down your room, while throwing around a bean bag he found in your drawer. he had quietly snuck in through a window while you were getting ready just to rant to you about how nervous he was.

a birthday party.

your mother had told you to bring him to a birthday party being held for your cousins at a venue. she thought it would be a nice idea to see how he would interact with the rest of your family (and to see if he was any good with children.) in miles' head, he was hoping for a small get-together like you had when you met his mom and uncle.

as he came over to you and and wrapped his arms around your waist he said, “mami, tell me to calm down one more time and I might explode.”

“eww don’t do that I don’t wanna have to clean up your guts,” you joked as you turned to kiss his cheek.

turning around in his arms, you pushed him away from you slightly to examine what was in front of you. miles was freshly dressed in a matching blue “senator style” shirt and pants. you reached for his newly braided braids as you brought them forward to lay on his shoulders. “you look extremely handsome. they’re going to like you, okay?”

he huffed as he rolled his shoulder back, a little tense from all the worrying he’s been doing. “okay.”

when miles snuck out your window and went back to his own home, his mother caught a glimpse of what he was wearing.

“wow, te ves bien. where are you going?” his mother asked sounding impressed by how her son had cleaned up so nicely.

“i’m meeting the parents…” he mumbled looking at the floor. she could tell his nerves were getting the best of him by how his eyes were darting around the room and not maintaining eye contact.

“oh wow, that’s why you’re dressed like this huh?”

“yup”

Rio sighed as she went up to her son, placing both her hands to rest upon his shoulders.

“miles, you listen to me. they are just people. they can’t hurt you, okay? and judging by the person they raised, they’re good people,” she reassured him the best she could as she slid her hands down his arms, rubbing small circles to sooth him.

“what if they don’t like me?”

Rio sighed as her eyes darted to the side, thinking of what to say. she suddenly stepped away from miles as she put her index and thumb on her chin. she began to circle around miles, examining everything about him.

miles could only stand there confused as to why his mom was inspecting every inch of his body. “uh.. ma?” she put a finger to her lips to shush him, still looking and studying him while deep in thought. until she finally came to a stop right in front of him.

“mmk now, ask me what I see when i look at you.”

“ma w-what are you-”

“shhh play along! now ask me what I see, ¡vamos!”

miles threw his arms up and let them fall down in defeat. “fine, what d’ you see mami?”

Rio smiled as she grabbed her sons hands into her own.

“I see the boy I raised,” she explained. “I see him in all his glory on his way to navigate the world he’s been given.”

"I see him trying his best understand what it means to have feelings — what it means to love someone. I see someone who cares enough to immerse himself in a different culture than the one he has all for the sake of a special someone."

she looked down as she continued, “I see a talented, intelligent, kind, respectful little boy who’s not so little anymore. I see someone I couldn't be more proud of, and y’know what—?” she lifted her head so her eyes could meet his, “if they can’t see what I see, están locos.”

miles couldn’t help the soft smile he had on his face as he looked into her sincere eyes. pulling his mom into him, he hugged her and gave her a small kiss on her head.

“te quiero, mami”

“ay mami please I gotta go-!”

“in a minute!”

you stood outside smiling with your hands crossed over your chest watching the scene in front of you; miles mother trying to make him look more presentable by straightening out his shirt and tucking away any miss placed hairs on his head as best as she could.

when she finally kissed her son goodbye and started her way back to the bus stop, she quickly waved and smiled at you before speed-walking to catch the next bus. there were people from your family all outside the venue, chatting each other up and taking pictures, and suddenly this all felt very real to miles.

taking a deep breath, he crossed the street and made his way over to you.

“hi baby,” you swiftly linked your arm around his and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

“damn, how many people you got in your family ma?” he took a quick look inside through the windows and saw a hefty amount of people, which didn’t make this any easier for him.

“don’t worry, most of these people aren’t actually family. they’re more like family friends who we call aunties, uncles, and cousins,” you explained.

“okay okay, yeah sure,” miles let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in. he started to look around at all the people outside the venue: they all looked so extravagant in long fitted dresses, and in suits that matched or looked similar to what he was wearing. all of the adults mingled with each other, and children were beginning to group off and mess around.

miles felt a bit like a fraud; like he didn’t belong there. this was all new territory for him. of course he had a few african friends in middle school, but he never really had to face their culture head-on like he was now. when he tried listening to what people were saying, he heard a few english words incorporated into their sentences, but he hadn't a clue on what was being communicated.

he couldn't stop the doubts that began to cloud his mind as he looked around him. doubts that he wasn't the kind of guy your parents wanted you dating, that he couldn't live up to their expectations. doubts that told him in big bold letters, "you don't belong here."

miles' facial expressions and body language often gave away what he was thinking, so when you noticed him begin to shrink slightly, him rapidly tapping his thigh, and his lip twitching slightly, you saw right through him. grabbing his hand, you gave him a small squeeze of affection, and soon enough, you were leading him through the doors of the venue, dodging people and children as you made your way through.

you led him right to your table which your parents saved for you and your siblings, plus miles.

as he saw your parents seated at the table, the first person he noticed was your father's presence. he took notice of the stoic look on his face, and his hand on the table which was intertwined with your mother's.

"hey guysss," you greeted with a smile as you dragged miles over to the table. "this is milesss, the boy I was telling you about."

you could feel miles tense ever so slightly as his father held his gaze.

"good evening sir, my name is miles," he introduced himself with a small smile.

“thank god this boy even knows how to greet,” your father said while nodding in approval.

when he reached his hand out for miles to shake, miles thought to himself, “okay, making progress.”

taking his hand, he gave a firm handshake to your father to which he nodded in approval again. turning to your mother, he extended his hand and said hello and was met with a softer touch and welcoming smile.

“I like your hair,” she mentioned, her hand gesturing to the two braids rested on his shoulder.

miles smiled as he look down to his braids. “thank you, my mom actually does these for me.”

“tell her i said she did well,” she complimented.

“please, sit down i’m sure the food will soon be ready, and then we will see what we can take home with us,” your mother mumbled that last part directed to your father, but you still heard and laughed.

“so, miles, we have been told many good things about you. you want to study physics?” your father asked.

miles squeezed your hand under the table, eyebrows raised in shock. “you guys talk about me?” he felt his heart swell at the mental image of you even mentioning him to your parents — especially your mom.

“of course na, our daughter comes up to us and tells us she’s been seeing a boy — how can we not talk about you?” your mother asked rhetorically. you could see the small almost unnoticeable smirk etching onto miles face. he would never let you hear the end of this.

after almost half an hour of talking, laughing, (mainly between you, miles, and your mother), and getting to know one another, miles started to feel much more relaxed. words started flowing out of him much easier than before, and he even managed to make your dad crack a smile with one of his silly jokes. miles nerves and doubts slowly but surely began to dissipate as the night went on; relief washed over his entire body.

it wasn't until your mother covered him in a layer of fear 4x as heavy as the one he just washed off.

“ah! see your cousin!” you mother told you. you looked in the direction she was looking and saw a toddler running around and giggling.

“why don’t the both of you go and say hi!”

she knew exactly what she was doing.

— bro idk what’s wrong but I really don’t like this (¬_¬)

— but I tried

— idek why but i think the other one was SOOO much better

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thekoalapastriesbakery · 5 months ago

Note

congrats on 250 again!!! i was just wondering if you could do drivers dating an pro athlete reader and what sport they would compete in (if that makes sense) :)

it does! i think especially because f1 has typically been seen as a very macho sport (somehow) that, if any of the drivers came out, people would assume that they'd end up dating a male model or singer or someone in a field more associated with 'femininity' (however stupidly). so when it comes out that their boyfriend is an athlete just like the driver ... it definitely causes some reevaluation.

kimi antonelli:

soccer/football

probably met when you were little kids and played together

maybe drifted apart when he got more into karting and then reunited later?

especially if you play in the epl bc he's now in england for mercedes

takes you on a hot lap and teases you so much

until you get him to try to score a goal and he misses by a mile

lance stroll:

hockey player

duh

probably in the nhl

if you play for montreal he will literally never be seen without at least one (1) piece of your merch on him

if you play for another team he's having an internal battle every time you play his home team bc he wants you to win but he doesn't want his team beaten

will still celebrate with you if you do beat montreal

logan sargeant:

judo olympian

gets all blushy when you make sure that everyone in his comments know that you can, in fact, fight

will never admit that it's kinda hot when you use a toss on him

you can tell anyway

absolutely loves to just casually mention that you're an olympic medalist even when it has fuck all to do with the conversation

he's a proud bf what can he say

mick schumacher:

pro surfer

like i can just imagine mick sitting on the beach watching you at a surfing competition?

he's so stressed if you're taking on big waves

(if you ask him to he may consider wearing a cheerleader outfit but only in private)

when you met he definitely pretended to have no idea how to surf just so you could teach him

oscar piastri:

cricketer

he has two interests: cars and cricket

i see him especially as being a childhood sweetheart person?

like ... you guys were best friends and started dating before he moved to europe for karting

extra sweet if he only got into cricket because he was watching your matches

sebastian vettel:

okay i've done a little text fic with this before but

rugby player!reader

probably been together for a long time

you might even be the captain of your country's team

depending on when you met, seb likes the same thing but for different reasons

if you met in his rb/ferrari days, he's mostly in peak feral twink era and he likes that you can throw him around (whether or not you're taller than him)

if you met in his aston/retirement days, he loves how warm and strong you are. he's spending afternoons daydreaming about you carrying a kid in each arm with ease, or about watching you do farm chores

#vinnie's 250 #kimi antonelli x male reader #lance stroll x male reader #logan sargeant x male reader #mick schumacher x male reader #oscar piastri x male reader #sebastian vettel x male reader

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mqverick · 1 year ago

Text

scummy man || ✮⋆˙ .

“Cause he’s a scumbag, don’t you know?

I said he’s a scumbag, don’t you know?”

────────── ★ ───────────

The moment Daniel Kaffee walked into your office with his stupid apple and his stupid, childish ‘hi’, you knew you were fucked from top to bottom. Of course, they hadn’t taken you seriously when you petitioned Division to have counsel assigned. They brought you the first idiot they came across.

You’d written a seventeen page memo to Bronsky outlining the situation, you’d pleaded your case for a half hour in his living room on a Sunday afternoon, and Division assigned a Lt. Junior Grade? They had too be kidding (or hate you).

You’d managed to scare him, at least, and that you were proud of. He seemed like the type, who was particularly full of himself, which was proven as quite the right accusation, after a few minutes of speaking with him. He was just a bunch of royal bullshit, you’d decided — fucking wanted him off the case, even though he hadn’t even started yet.

He was never going to take it seriously, judging on how loose and cool he acted. For crying out loud, Dawson and Downey were at his sake, while Daniel could not care less about them, opting to practice baseball instead, because he claimed he had a critical game coming. Was that guy serious?

“Lieutenant, would you feel very insulted if I recommended to your supervisor that he assign different counsel?” you threatened, face burning as you struggled to contain your anger at his complete indifference to the situation.

“Why would you do that?”

He had the nerve to ask. “You’re not fit to handle the defense. One second more with you and the marines will have sealed their poor fate.”

Daniel nodded, unimpressed with your tone.

“You don’t even know me. Ordinarily, it takes someone hours to discover I’m not fit to handle a defense. You’ve known me for less than ten minutes.” He walked away from you, as if your threat was a joke to him, like he didn’t believe you.

You stupidly stared at him, blood boiling as you wondered how impossibly scummy one could be.

“I do know you. Daniel Allistair Kaffee, born June 8th, 1964 at Boston Mercy Hospital. Your father's Lionel Kaffee, former Navy Judge Advocate and Attorney General, of the United States, died 1985. You went to Harvard Law on a Navy scholarship, probably because that’s what your father wanted you to do, and now you’re just treading water for the three years you’ve gotta serve in the JAG Corps, just kinda laying low til you can get out and get a real job. And if that’s the situation, that’s fine, I won’t tell anyone. But my feeling is that if this case is handled in the same fast-food, slick-ass, Persian Bazaar manner with which you seem to handle everything else, something’s gonna get missed. And I’d be damned if I allowed Dawson and Downey to spend any more time in prison than absolutely necessary, because their attorney had pre-determined the path of least resistance,” your monologue prevented you from taking a breath, confidently crossing your arms like you’d just won an argument, as Daniel took a quick sip from his Yoo-Hoo, staring intently at you. The sun was hitting his face and if you allowed it to yourself, you could’ve observed how stunningly green his eyes were.

“Wow,” he admired, very taken aback. “I’m sexually aroused, Commander. I may be picking the wrong time to ask you this, but are you seeing anyone right now? ‘Cause I think you and I would be perfect together. It’s clear that you respect me and that’s the foundation for any solid—”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You let out an angry exhale and grabbed him by the collar of his thin baseball shirt, pulling him towards you. He gasped in surprise, breath caught in his throat as you stabbed your finger into his chest as a warning.

“Listen there, Kaffee, I will have you removed from the case, so don’t go around being cute and unbothered. Mark my words, you just waisted your last chance with me.”

And with that, you threw him back to the bleachers, storming away in annoyance and over the top frustration. Never had another human being ever crawled up under your nerves so quickly, it had to be an astonishing world record.

When you walked into your office the next day just to find Daniel sitting on your chair already, you neared the dreadful experience of going into cardiac arrest. You silently wondered how he’d managed to sneak in, but decided to ignore him.

“You didn’t do it.”

His words were softly spoken, causing you to look at him, undoubtedly baffled. “I beg your pardon?”

“You didn’t do it,” he repeated with more emphasis, as if that would help you understand what he was referring to. “I thought you really wanted me out of the case, so I went to check, see if you talked to my supervisor. You didn’t.”

Oh, so he was talking about that. You played it off as something frankly unimportant, not even bothering to reply anything to him. If you turned your back around just for one second, you could’ve seen exactly how distressed he was.

Daniel got up from your chair, walking up behind you as he towered over you, hands unexpectedly nervous, seeing as they couldn’t stay still for a full minute on the waistline of his uniform trousers. You chuckled silently to yourself, nose scrunching in pride as you turned your back, looking dead into his eyes, your own ones fixed on the way his Adam’s apple moved in his neck as he gulped.

“Good job, Lieutenant. I see you took my words seriously for once. Need to keep into mind that you shit your pants way too easily, threats have you following every order you’ve been given.”

Daniel’s eyes were blown with disbelief of your manners, brows raised in offense. There was no doubt that you were prepared to make his life a living hell, had every intention to cause this case to be his first and last one, because the way it was going, he’d either rip apart his diploma or plain out kill himself. And who had the delightful opportunity to hear Daniel complain day and night? None other than Sam.

“She hates me, I don’t even know why,” he cried while pacing back and forth in his small living room, bat placed over his shoulders as he rested his hands on it, mind far away from the case. Sam sighed, sinking back into the couch. “She barely even knows me! I always do stuff wrong for her, she’s never satisfied. Little miss perfect,” he continued without a break, swinging the bat now as he ignored the board that stood in the middle of the place. Sam felt nauseous, having baring his unstoppable yapping for what felt like decades, even though it’d only been less than ten minutes.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his unlimited boredom and he got up to see who it was, ignoring the way Daniel kept going on and on. He looked over the eye on the door, almost letting out an audible groan at the fact that it was you who had knocked, meaning that your appearance would drive his friend even crazier.

“Come in,” he whispered lowly to you as he unlocked the door and let you in. You shrugged your jacket off your shoulders, noticing that Daniel hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that someone else had gotten into his house. “Damn, I’ve never seen him like this before. Normally he loses interest in a girl after a date or two…” he commented with a smirk, but you ignored him.

“You know, I wish she could’ve taken me out of the case, so that I wouldn’t have to see her face again,” Daniel admitted frustratedly, stopping dead in his tracks momentarily as he laid his eyes on you. Suddenly, hitting his head as hard as possible with his bat didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. Oh, he was fucked to the core.

A smug, proud smile spread across your lips.

“Talking about me, Lieutenant Kaffee?” you rhetorically asked, crossing your arms and puffing your chest out arrogantly as you strode confidently across the room to get to him.

Daniel pretended to turn a deaf ear to your question, head strictly observing the case’s board as he gripped on the hand of his baseball bat. He wished the earth would open up and swallow him out of existence, his brain bleeding at the pure satisfaction he’d so universally given you by admitting the very phrase that you’d been accusing him of; dropping the case, because he couldn’t take the seriousness of it. And oh, well, because he couldn’t bare another second with you breathing down his neck and constantly criticizing him without even caring enough to get to know him — not as Daniel Kaffee, but Marine Lieutenant Kaffee. You had no idea of his potential, yet you still found it in you to look down at him, underestimate and humiliate him.

Sam incredulously just existed there, not taking any stance against either one of you. He’d been friends with Daniel since ages, which cast him to be very close to his way of thinking, and he knew for an undeniable fact that his friend was building up a brick wall of denial, hatred and irony just because he wouldn’t want to face the reality of the situation that pained his mind.

Daniel was captivated by you, Sam claimed.

He silently watched the way his eyes never left your face the entire time you spent in the small apartment, while working on the case, the split second that Daniel subconsciously let his jaw slightly hang open when you determinedly explained every detail of how to teach the marines how to act in the courtroom. Of course, Daniel was going through a matter of confusion.

You stood an obstacle to his limitless confidence and that wasn’t something he particularly wanted to experience every passing day, thus why he’d convinced himself that he hated you. But that was simply not true, at least according to Sam’s observations, which always proved to be right.

“I hate her,” he’d say all the time, but even the sound of his voice gave away the fact that he didn’t. How could he, anyway? Despite the hard time you were giving him, you actually worked by his side, boosting him even more. Come on — he was going to be in a courtroom — he’d never been in one before. All because of how stubborn you were with this case. Daniel loved it.

“Nobody likes her very much,” he’d said in Cuba, shouting his statement loudly enough for all the people in the convertible to hear despite the dizzying noise of shots and fighter planes. You’d rolled your eyes, opting not to give him the chance to stupidly smirk at himself for managing to piss you off (that was exactly his only goal).

───

Predictably enough, Daniel was laying down on his couch as a baseball game faintly played in the background, preventing him from concentrating. Truth be told, his mind was blank. He’d prepared himself mentally for what was coming; they’d lose the trial, make complete fools of themselves in front of an entire courtroom. His father was shaking his head disappointedly at him, Daniel knew it. He fiddled with his bat, glancing at the remnants of the two days old pizza he’d heated up in the microwave fifteen minutes ago, lazily thrown in a piece of kitchen paper, next to a half empty bottle of Yoo-hoo. His white uniform from earlier was thrown in a pile in a corner, like a piece of garbage he was itching to get out of his house.

A sudden buzz from his bell was heard, throwing him off as he jumped a little, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he went to the door, wondering who it could be at that time, since he wasn’t even expecting anyone. Or so he thought. The moment he opened the door, you stormed inside without even waiting for him to invite you in. Daniel stood speechless for one second, then shrugged it off, simply because it was you, and your ignorance of him was unquestionable. He looked shit, he realised; dressed in a dark gray T-shirt that had small oil stains on it because of the pizza, an abstract, unbuttoned red, brown and green colored shirt thrown over it.

“I’ve really missed you. It’s been almost three hours since I last saw—” he began sarcastically, but you cut him off abruptly, while placing a stack of papers onto the living room table.

“I can already tell that you forgot we had to meet up to discuss about the case by the way you’ve shamelessly displayed your gross dinner all over the files we need to present tomorrow. Good job, like always, Kaffee.”

Daniel didn’t bother to huff or give out any reaction, at that point, he knew that you were aware of the fact that you pushed his buttons just by breathing the same direction as him. He let his bat against the arm of the couch, taking a folder into his hands and pretending to examine it.

“Is Sam not coming?” he asked without raising his eyes to look at you.

“I don’t know, he’s your buddy. Aren’t you supposed to know better than me?”

You judged his choice of childish drink with a long, disgusting glare, then buried your face into the papers as well. Dawson and Downey relied upon the three of you deeply and if proving them not guilty meant you had to spend your Friday evening in Daniel Kaffee’s apartment, then so be it. It was a lot quieter than usual and the unfamiliar emptiness had you wondering. The baseball game was still on, distracting you from thinking clearly. “I think Kendrick ordered the Code Red. So do you,” you mumbled out of the blue, catching his attention in a second.

“You didn’t just come here to bother me?”

“You’re the worst lawyer I’ve ever met,” you spoke rudely, noticing Daniel’s face drop. “Why don’t you get the poor guys a new attorney, huh? You stand no chance anyway, you’re too afraid.”

“You still haven’t taken the time to get to know me, so I don’t think that you have any rights to go around telling me what to do, Commander,” the boldness of his tone matched yours as he sat on the couch, still denying the urge to look up at you, gauge your reaction to his words. He liked to ignore you, it gave him the impression that he had some sort of power over you that drove you as far mad as you did to him. Ignorance was kind.

“Think I’m going to change my mind about you the moment I hear your childhood sob story? They can all say you’re the best damn lawyer it’s ever been their pleasure to have as an attorney, and I still wouldn’t be convinced. But go on, though, I’ll humor you for tonight. Were daddy’s expectations really that high that they scare you off to do your job correctly?”

He pursed his lips, a slight furrow between his brows again as he stared pointedly at you. His heart crashed every time you went down the family path, not fully understanding how you’d figured him out so quickly and with less effort than even Jack put into his conversations with him. “Okay, then, if you really believe all that, get me replaced, I won’t stop you. Or did you already try that with no luck? Please, spare me the psycho-babble father bullshit, though, it’s your only argument and it’s getting tiring.”

“At least I have an argument.”

“Fucking congratulations! That’s just splendid!”

“Another lawyer won’t be good enough!” you accidentally admitted on your temper. Your eyes widened at the echo in the dead silence, that grew in the apartment, after what you’d just blurted out. Daniel’s eyes softened, filled with pure bewilderment, jaw going slack. His upper front teeth were visible as he stared at you stupidly enough to have your cheeks burning the brightest shade of red. You tried to find an excuse to reason yourself, but nothing could cover up the royal bullocks you’d thrown all over yourself.

He’d never let you live that moment down.

“You frighten me. I’m involved in a situation now, in which the stakes couldn’t be higher. I’m not going to take time out to give tutorials in criminal procedure to an internal affairs schoolgirl who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing and still has the nerve to threaten my lead.”

“I just melt when you sugar-talk me, Danny.”Daniel felt a sudden rush of heat form in the back of his neck, traveling all the way up to his face at the sound of his nickname falling out of your lips. It wasn’t even a big deal — everyone called him Danny, yet the way it sounded in his ears when you uttered it out, it felt as though someone had turned up the dial on his internal embarrassment thermostat to maximum, and now he was sure he was ready to burst at any moment. The awkwardness of the moment had both of you completely mute, blankly finding random things in his house to interestingly stare at, as if they were suddenly very important. “Anyway, I think you know exactly how to win. They need you.”

A dumbstruck smile lightened up his face.

“You really think so?”

“Do you have something to drink?” you dodged the question, knowing that you’d revealed too much of your genuine feelings about him. Of course you admired him, how could you not?

“Yeah — Yeah! Something to drink, yes, just a second, let me see what’s in the fridge,” he exclaimed, inexplicably jumpy as he practically flew to the fridge. The corners of your lips turned upwards, enjoying the way he struggled to roam through the drinks and food, some things falling over in his attempt to search in the back. When he finally approached you, he was proudly holding a small bottle with a yellow Yoo-hoo tag on it.

You sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s chocolate milk, you’ll love it.”

What the hell, you thought, taking the drink from him as he handed it over to you with a warm smile. Your face was filled with disgust, almost hollering at the smell. When you let a few drops touch your lips, you coughed dramatically and shook your head in denial of what you’d just drank, placing the bottle back on the table.

“That’s the most foul thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Wait until you try my cooking. I usually save that card until the fourth or fifth date, though,” Daniel smirked, eyes gleaming under the bright yellow light of his living room. He looks so dumb, how is this man a navy lawyer? you questioned yourself.

“Explains why you’re single, then.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for someone.”

“Is it Jack Ross? ‘Cause I think he likes you back, you should totally make a move,” you teased him.

“Maybe said someone is annoying me as we talk.”

“Come on, Danny, can’t take a joke?”

He didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and twirled his bat on the ground, while pacing around the coffee table. “Can I ask you something personal?” he asked out of the blue, causing a pit of anxiety to form into your stomach.

“I suppose you’ll ask even if I refuse.”

“Look at you, you’re finally getting to know me.”

“Shoot, Kaffee.”

“What made you become a lawyer for the Navy?”

Your expression changed, now fully confused. You wondered how he’d possibly come up with that question all of sudden — was he doing some sort of research on you, get you exposed and out of his lead case so that you wouldn’t annoy him anymore with your constant complaining? Or was it more just Daniel being… well, Daniel and randomly coming up with the most out of context questions and things to discuss about?

“They wouldn’t let me fly the planes,” you simply gave and he tsk’ed with a dramatic head shake.

“Pegged you for the one that never gave up. You are becoming less of a role model on Junior Lieutenant Kaffee now, Commander. You’re like seven of the strangest women I’ve ever met.”

“That’s rich of you to say,” you added a little too quickly and loudly for your liking, hating how you were always so eager to defend yourself in situations that didn’t ask for it. “I’m the girl guys like you hated in sixth grade.”

Daniel’s eyes softened as he hesitantly took a seat next to you. “You’re wrong,” he muttered through his lips, looking down at his entwined fingers before exhaling exhaustively. “You’re the girl guys like me pulled the pigtails of at minor interactions just because they were too afraid of letting her know how they really felt about her.”

A pause. Silence built up in the room as Daniel kept looking down on his lap, eyes closed as if he was hoping for something, as if he was scared that the moment he’d open them, you’d be gone, because he’d screwed everything up again. But you were still there when he eventually decided to look over at you, staring blankly at him with no emotion whatsoever. He despised the fact that he couldn’t read you, hated the thought of not knowing exactly what went through your mind during that moment; it caused him too much anxiety, plus, with his little experience with girls, he’d never lived anything similar. They were all so chattery and urgent to fuck him that they didn’t hold anything back… and then, there was you.

You, who Daniel didn’t know how to feel about.

And suddenly, he couldn’t stand — bare — the fact that you’d been staring at him with so much to say, all that visible through your glassy eyes, and it was killing him, causing his stomach to flip, because he was ridiculously unaware about whether he did the right thing to reveal so much with that metaphor, or if he’d just ruined every aspect of professionalism between you.

“Kaffee?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, his voice worn out, shaky as if he was about to break down right there in front of you. Your lack of response made his heart feel tight. “I’m not going to reassign Dawson and Downey to another lawyer, by the way. Neither will you ever be able to replace me, because I’m going to stick here.”

You instantly warmed up. For the first time, his confidence gave you that slight ounce of reassurance that you needed to get, put the colour back in your eyes as you grinned proudly at him, not caring about the so though Commander title you’d been given. “What made you change your mind?”

“Not you,” he replied, reciprocating the calmness and brightness of your face. “Just… don’t wear that perfume, it wrecks my concentration.”

“Really?” you asked in awe. Daniel just smiled. You noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he inhaled the courage to say something, then…

“This might be the wrong time to ask this, but would you really hate the idea of me taking y—”

“I am so sorry,” Sam interrupted, barging into Daniel’s apartment while panting, struggling to take his coat off as he put a hand over his chest. “I had to take care of my daughter, she got sick and my wife wasn’t home, I — Oh, I walked into something there, didn’t I?”

You think? Daniel mutely thought of saying to his friend, so mad inside as he glared at him with burning passion to slam the door shut into his face and returning to the conversation he was having with you less than twenty seconds ago.

“I need to go, anyway, I promised the Marines that I would visit them and help them prepare for the court. I’ll see you tomorrow, Danny. Bye, Sam,” you dismissed them, getting up from the couch and waving goodbye to the two of them as you walked outside with a small smile.

“No wait!” Daniel called, but it was already too late. “What the fuck, Sam?! You know something called knocking on the fucking door?”

Sam didn’t reply, simply because he was too busy explaining the story of why he thought he wouldn’t make it to the case preparation as he cleaned Daniel’s living room. He realised that his friend was paying no attention to him at all, only staring at the almost full Yoo-hoo bottle you’d left on the table from earlier, and that was all Sam needed to know exactly why he was being ignored. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Daniel never replied.

───

“Hi!” he greeted you with the following day, head peaking in your office through the half closed door. He looked dumb, his oversized blue varsity jacket covering most of his palms as he held onto the door with a wide grin, eyes sparkling. You couldn’t understand his excitement.

“Hey,” the reply was dry and held back.

“I think we might actually have just enough evidence to prove Dawson and Downey innocent, all thanks to you,” he claimed happily, allowing himself fully into your office. You gave him a weird look but didn’t question anything, instead ignored him as you organized the discarded papers on your desk into folders. Daniel’s face dropped at your lack of enthusiasm for him, worry written all over his face as he quickly began fiddling again.

“That’s quite literally my job, Daniel.”

“Did I do something to offend you?” His heart was racing now, mind stuck in the loop of any words that he could’ve said to cause your so indifferent reaction. “You’re giving me the cold shoulder. I thought we moved past that.”

“It was just one conversation about the case. It’s not like we’re expected to act like friends after not bickering for a total of five minutes.” Oh. Daniel’s stomach was tied into knots, he felt as though he’d been kicked in the crotch with the worst possible amount of strength. His face was paled, eyes growing blurry as he nodded at your statement, not finding himself strong enough to say anything back to you, and instead choosing to walk out with his last pieces of remaining dignity.

He thought you might had started liking him. Even a little, he didn’t care about the numbers.

Daniel got easily emotionally influenced, though, and his performance at the court was screwed. He wouldn’t communicate with either you or Sam, interrogating the men on the stand with such frustration that the jury sighed every five seconds. You pinched the bridge of your nose and tightened your fingers into fists, crumbling a paper in front of you as Sam touched your shoulder in a way of telling you to calm down.

But how could you? You were losing the case already and it hadn’t even been a day. What is he doing? you thought, relentlessly questioning his choice of tone and movements. You had no idea how you restrained yourself from slapping him against the wall when he returned to the desk, hands shoved into his pockets as he set his jaw.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you whispered yelled at him, but he didn’t even bother to look at you. When the judge dismissed everyone, Daniel walked away as if nothing had happened. Your head was going to explode, you decided, as you followed him, high heels slamming against the floor. You’d strangle the soul out of him, who would even defend you? Sam followed silently, keeping it low-key as he whispered at you not to create any more trouble. Daniel was seemingly upset and at the back of your mind, you wondered if the reason was the fact that you’d neglected him less than an hour ago back in your office. You felt like you should’ve kept that for yourself and tell him later eventually, when the trial would be over. “Do you have any idea why he’s like this?” you turned to the other attorney.

“Why do you think?” was the only thing he left you with, his words ringing in your head as your pace quickened unnecessarily faster than expected. Your breath was coming in short, eyes stinging as you repeatedly called for Daniel’s name in the corridors without any response.

He was proving you right by all this.

All your doubts and fears about him being unable to thoroughly handle the case were bursting one by one, getting huger and huger until you’d start breaking down in a corner on his behalf. You hated Daniel Kaffee more than any other person.

“Daniel, fucking stop!” you shouted and he finally stilled. Your immediate instinct was to take a break from the intense walking, hand over your chest as you tried to regain your balance.

“Maybe you should’ve asked for them to keep me out,” was all he said before disappearing outside. He was mad, but mostly exhausted with everything, especially overwhelmed by you. He was done trying; finished with the case, finished the way you treated him — how one day you loved him and the next day you pretended he wasn’t even there, as if he didn’t exist. And he was fine with that, you didn’t want him, he could live.

But you gave him false hope, or so he thought.

“Lieutenant!” he heard you yell again, your pants mixed with the sound of your heels against the hallway floor. He decided not to turn around, didn’t want to hear anything that you had to say. “Lieutenant Kaffee!” And suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, letting out a breath as he slammed his arms against his sides in defeat.

“What? What do you want from me?” he asked with frustration, voice raspy and shaky as he firmly loosened the black tie that felt like it was cutting the air out of his lungs, suit all messed up and wrinkly from fighting it off his body. He felt heavy, bothered, didn’t want to exist anymore.

“What do you mean what?” you asked with fragility, and it was the first time he’d ever heard you speak a sentence so softly and fearfully.

“I mean what is it?”

“I wanted to say that you did quite well in there, even though it was your first time and that—”

“Please — don’t even — don’t even start…” he cut you off mid-word, eyes squinting close as he tried not to look at you, afraid that just one glance at your face would be enough for him to bend.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re giving me mixed signals!” he abruptly bursted, making you jump a little. You’d never heard him raise his voice like that before, despite the fact that you’d been into countless bickers before with him. No, there was something different this time, something more into it.

“What?”

“You’re — you’re confusing the shit out of me! One day you fucking hate me and the other you get so nice with me that it almost makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could have a chance with you… Start things over. And then you go back to day one — and no one has ever… I feel like one day I’m saving you from a burning building and the next I’m throwing you to the sharks, this — this is exactly how it is with us and it’s all your fucking fault! I’ve tried so hard with you, to make myself worthy, to catch your attention, to make you realise that I don’t think I’ve never admired a person more than you in my life before… and you keep throwing everything away! And I’m fine with that, but for the name of love, stop giving me hope that one day maybe you’ll actually start liking me.”

His monologue left you speechless, every word, every breath engraved and buzzing into your troubled brain as he walked away, this time without being stopped by anyone. Daniel felt like rubbish. On one hand, he felt relieved for letting the thoughts that had been eating him alive out, but on the other he felt even heavier. He knew he’d risked so much for speaking up, but the final straw had been put into his overfilled glass.

For a short moment, he considered turning back.

Perhaps you’d have something to say to him, but that was exactly what he dreaded. The more he’d spend looking at you, waiting for an answer or even the slightest reaction, the more he’d want to listen to what you’d have to say to him, and that was cautionary for his condition. Obviously, he’d fallen for you along the line. You’d screwed him over so deeply that he didn’t know where to grasp at to save himself from losing the grip he had by the end of the cliff. No, he decided, if you wanted him half as bad as he wanted you, you’d go after him, search for him, ask people, show that you cared, even if the amount wasn’t a great deal.

It was insignificant to him, if you cared about him as much as he did for you, he just wanted you to care. Even as a companion, or a respected fellow attorney. You didn’t follow him, though, and the sad part was that he wasn’t even surprised. Of course you had nothing to say to him, you’d made that very clear by wanting him so badly off the case that you were prepared to move the sky and earth just to earn the satisfaction of watching him be defeated. And if you so utterly needed him uninvolved, why did you give him motivation not to quit? Why did you keep pushing him?

Every ounce of feeling that he had for you was a big, unanswered why that tortured him inside.

Daniel wished he could erase from your memory what he’d just confessed. Make you forget all about it, have you look at him with the same hateful eye that you always did. Because now, you’d look at him with pity, scared of what to say to him (he’d revealed way too much and he was only just realising it) — gosh, he’d ruined it. He was so exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Ethic violations were involved in the mess, as well, because of course they would be. A sexual relationship with a fellow counsel in the middle of a trial? What was he thinking? As if you even wanted him breathing near you in the first place.

───

It had only been three, going to four hours, ever since Daniel got his heart crashed, made a fool of himself not only in the courtroom, but also in front of you. For him, it felt like days, even a full week. His only company was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s that he’d almost finished, stuffing it in his coat’s large pockets as he walked back home.

This was how you felt about him. You hated him.

And he’d have to make amends with that, but not without the encouragement of cheap alcohol pouring into his system. Thank god for Ross, who always bought him all the booze he needed.

You, on the other hand, had wasted all of your breath trying to look for Daniel everywhere. It’d almost been an hour and you were at the hands of Sam, trying to think about all the possible locations that his friend could be at. You searched for him at the O Club, down at the basketball court, even his own apartment, but he was nowhere to be found. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, caught in your throat as you walked back to his neighborhood, opting to give his apartment another try. It’d been more than thirty minutes ever since you first went, maybe he’d returned by now. Your hands were shaking as you brought a loosely balled up fist to the surface of the door, hesitantly knocking on it once, twice — then heard steps from inside.

“Go away.”

Your entire body eased momentarily at the sound of his voice. Good, he wasn’t dead. His tone was cold and distant, nevertheless, and you knew that he was in no mood for seeing or even speaking to you after how you’d behaved during his speech, or even earlier, during the trial. Your mouth went dry at the first attempt of speaking back to him.

“Danny—”

“You’ve got no place to call me that.”

Oh. So, you’d really broken him.

“Daniel,” you corrected yourself halfheartedly, your hands rubbing up and down against the sides of your outer thighs, “can you let me in?”

“No.”

Your face dropped. You weren’t used to Daniel being so… you didn’t even know how exactly to describe it. The relationship between the two of you hadn’t started on a brilliant basis, neither did it get any better throughout all the time, but even though he didn’t seem to like you very much, he’d always been open for you, in some sort of way that your mind still struggled to comprehend.

“Daniel, please,” you begged, stepping back, surprised when his door creaked open just an inch to reveal his heavy lidded, blurry eyes.

“Do you have anything to say to me about the case? Otherwise, get moving, Commander.”

“Did you… Are you drunk?” you found yourself asking worriedly, ignoring his previous question.

“Why do you care, huh? Last time I checked, you didn’t give two shits about me!” he yelled, slamming the door back shut into your face, causing you to flinch. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“So this is it?”

Daniel swore he was only a second away from exploding, your question sending him over the edge as he chuckled in frustration, not knowing whether you asked what you asked simply to piss him off, or if you were genuinely placing an inquiry that you had been unclear about.

“This is what? Are you fucking with me?”

“You’ve hated me ever since you stepped into my office. You always did, say it. Just say that you hate me, you can’t stand me anymore, come on. Or is this just for Sam’s ears? That you wished I’d taken you out of the case just so you wouldn’t have to listen to my voice any longer. Come on, Kaffee, that’s all you’ve got to say.”

Daniel backed away in disbelief, then made you silently wince as he punched hard against the door, the sound of his skin hitting the processes wood ringing in faint echoes inside your eardrums. You’d driven him out of control.

“Me? Hate you? How could you possibly say such a thing — I — I…” Daniel wasn’t sure how to continue the sentence. There were too options and both of them would have a negative impact upon your relationship with each other and case.

One; he could let his tipsy mind ramble on and on about how you hadn’t once left his mind ever since he saw you for the first time, that he’d never felt so intimidated by anyone, never had fallen into such a deep awe of someone’s passion and ability to pursue their goals in life. That he wished he could possess the one thirds of your courage and determination, because you were honestly scared of nothing, got all the questions you wanted answered within a heartbeat. You didn’t back down in any occasion, you were your own person and Daniel had fallen so deeply in love with everything that you so proudly owned in your character that he thought he was a lost card.

Two; he could never continue the sentence, trail off and stay completely silent, see if you had anything to reply to him — and of course, he opted for the safest option, which was the second one. He was too scared of wearing his heart on his sleeve, knowing that you’d break it anyway.

“The fact that you’re so fucking scared of being a lawyer is beyond me. You’re in the Navy for crying out loud, get a hold of yourself,” was all you muttered in response, leaning against his door, completely unaware of the fact that he was also in the same position, that if the door disappeared in thin air that very moment, you’d fall on top of him with your mouth so dangerously close to his own that he’d pass out (and so would you, in some extent.)

Daniel’s every muscle was so tightly contracted, that he believed they’d crash altogether without any warning if he spent one more minute, forehead pressed against the door, knowing damn well that you were still outside, that you breathed just as heavily as he did, that he’d tied himself to the tracks, ready to be run over.

He knew that whatever was happening in that moment would reek of runny makeup and salty tears, sweat of agony running down the faces of two attorneys, bewildered and scorned as they fell into silence in preference of doing what they’d studied in law school for four years; defend their own selves, master the words. The ability of speaking had died down your throats near the day you chose bitterness over respect for each other.

Daniel averted his eyes to the ground, mustered all the courage he could possibly get and loosened his fingers in his fist. He called your name once, twice, but no reply ever came back. He knew you’d left, could understand it by the way he peaked through the glass hole in his door and saw that no one was there. His logic screamed at him to stay where he was, crash in the couch, close his eyes and sleep, forget about the case, forget about you, the conversations, the feelings, the tension, everything. Take down the entire Jack Daniel’s bottle and lean into the cushions without any further thinking.

Thank God that Daniel hated logical reasoning.

His door flew open as he hurried outside, not caring about his half unbuttoned dress shirt and blowsy uniform. It had been raining for hours now, the steady patter of water hitting against the windows of his small apartment long since faded to a dull rush in the back of his mind. He stepped out of the building, the thick material of his coat almost getting soaked through instantly. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out how far ahead you’d gotten, the pouring rain blurring his vision as he eventually spotted you on the road.

“Commander!” he shouted, but you didn’t turn, so he called for your name instead, numerous times until your feet gave up. A piercing gust of wind shook the trees above your head, showering your already miserable frame with a fresh deluge. You wiped the water from your eyes with a wet sleeve and tucked a lock of long brunette hair that fell into your eyes behind your dampened ear.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” you said with a steady voice, barely audible in the downpour. Daniel tried to catch his breath as he finally reached you, looking like he was about to either melt along with the rain, or simply vanish.

“No, I can’t accept that. We — We braved extraordinary circumstances to get over here. You need to give me one chance,” he begged, but you kept walking, tired of his mediocre speeches and dramatic overreactions everywhere possibly imaginable. You wanted facts, wanted to listen to him fully, crystal clearly admit what he had to say. Not dance around it like he’d catch on fire. “Hey, I’m talking to you! Fucking listen to me!”

“Fuck off, Lieutenant Kaffee!” you screamed back, not caring about the fact that the rain would probably give you a deadly cold the following day, if not kill you by throwing you off at a very abrupt road pit. Daniel was soaked, hair sticking to his forehead and still very drunk. He felt embarrassed of how high pitched his voice got whenever he yelled from the top of his lungs, almost sounding like a complaining kid at the supermarket, who wouldn’t get the sweets he wanted from the counter while waiting to pay.

He needed answers. Did you even like him?

“You’re saying I’m scared and you can’t even face how you feel!” he shouted catching you off guard. “You can’t even look at me without lying.” Your blood was boiling into your veins as you gave him that chance, which he so desperately wanted, to explain himself to you, to see what he had to say.

“What did you just say?”

Daniel came closer, hands shaking from the temper building within him, looking pathetic as his hair dripped along with the rain down his face.

“You say I’m scared, but you’re terrified. At least I’ve shown you how I feel about you. I give myself away, because I can’t hold back everything that goes into my head the second you walk in it. I’m too weak to defend myself when it comes to you — look at me, you make me forget how to do my job — and I’m one of the most qualified lawyers out there, according to the Navy.”

“What are you talking about? You haven’t even once told me anything about how you feel about me. I’ve overheard you say to Sam that you hate me, that you wish you couldn’t hear my voice. What the fuck were you on about, huh, Kaffee?”

Daniel threw his hands and looked up, gulping down his worn out feelings as he tried to collect himself from breaking down in front of you, yet once again. “You know what Sam said to me when I kept telling him all that stuff about you?”

“I don’t care about what he said to you,” you scoffed in annoyance, ready to leave again, when you heard the words fly out of his mouth.

“That I’m in love with you!”

Daniel ached to prove that you were the scared one in this, breath wasted as he summoned every single ounce of remaining strength he had to grab you by the arm and yank you close to him, crashing his lips into yours forcefully. He never imagined the first time he’d get to kiss you to be that way. His body was trembling in fear (and because of the weather), heart hammering in the most literal way possible. The kiss barely lasted, seeing as you pushed him away almost instantly.

He felt crashed into millions of pieces, exploding like they did in the cartoons. He’d gathered so much courage to finally kiss you, and there you were, looking at him like he’d committed some sort of unbelievable crime, like he’d offended your honour. Daniel felt like an idiot; he’d ruined everything even worse. Had he really misinterpreted every look, every conversation, every fight? He wanted to cry, so he did. His tears ran down his salty cheeks, mixing with the rain, which allowed him to sob as hard as he needed to, not caring whether it made him look more pathetic and weak than he already was.

Who was going to see anyway?

You weren’t saying a word and Daniel was sure that another heartbeat was all it would take for the organ to crawl up inside his throat and hurl out, break; rip in two. He’d said his biggest fear, had actually put the exact words in it, then proceeded to throw an action. And he was destroyed, not because you didn’t kiss him back or because you pushed him away, but because you had chosen the mute torture of silence.

“…What else do I have to do to prove to you that I’m so fucking head over heels for you that I can’t possibly concentrate on anything else? I might lose the case and make a fool of myself, because you make me not think,” he tried again, this time with a fragile and weak voice. He honestly had no idea what more he could do to convince you about his feelings, about how nuts you drove him with your attitude and insane personality.

But again, you opted not to say anything. Instead, you quickly took a few steps forward, grabbed him by the ends of the collar of his long, black coat and pulled him into you, mouth capturing his own swiftly as you tilted your head to the side, deepening the kiss. Daniel was paralyzed for a short second, not knowing if he’d been struck by some sort of lightning that had killed him and brought him to a different reality, or whether you kissing him was an actual, real, skin to skin thing.

Stupidly enough, he allowed his lips to turn upwards into a broadening smile, responding with such enthusiasm, even though he was ridiculously taken aback by your choice of action. It took him a minute to regain his composure, the storm — hell, the entire world — around you feeling meaningless as his hands laced with yours, causing your grip on him to relax a little.

Daniel was falling fast, faster than ever, craving more of your scent and the feel of you pressed closer and tighter to him, the taste of alcohol mixing along with the buds of your mouth, unsure how this whole story had even began for him.

But his stupid, stupid lungs had to find air, and he was forced to separate from you with the feeling of gravity being torn out of his core. You’d disconnected your hands from his (with another pitiful drop in his stomach) so you could run them through his disheveled, wet hair, and his eyes fluttered close at the touch. You looked up at him with an emotion that neither of you could really find the words to explain, and Daniel wanted to kiss you again, heat rising to his face, forming a what he thought could be a permanent blush as his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

“I’m so wet,” you realised out loud with a dumb smile, trying to hold back a giggle as you watched him bemusedly, eyes glowing brightly at the way he looked at you with such confusion, a bulge straining into his damp uniform pants.

“What — wha… what?” his voice was high pitched and shaky as he cleared his throat. “Oh! Shit — the rain, let’s — let’s get you inside!” He was so flustered and hard, just from one kiss, and he stuttered in every word he spoke. He took his coat off and covered your head with it as he grabbed you by the hand, hurrying back to his apartment.

When you went inside, you acted all unbothered, like nothing had even happened just a moment ago, and it was killing Daniel, because he was terrified of you throwing him away once again. He helped you to the couch, then rushed into his bedroom, pulling out every piece of clothing that he had in the wardrobe with such anticipation as he anxiously roamed through the selves to find blankets to offer you, get you dry from the rain.

“Okay, this is all I have. Do you prefer the pink or the... what color is this — orange? Coral? Erm, which one—” he was getting tongue tied and you found it adorable, taking both blankets off his hands as he stared at us, mesmerised. You looked over your shoulder, as if he was looking through you, then returned your gaze at him, getting nervous. “I’ll — I’m going to make coffee!”

You heard him smack his forehead as he went in the kitchen and grinned like a child. “Daniel?” you called from the living room with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“It was coral, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“The blanket. It was coral. Can I change my clothes? I’m getting your couch wet,” you asked.

“Sure! Closet’s in the left.”

You got up, wrapped in the blankets as you walked into his closet, shamelessly going through all of his ridiculous, childish, cheap shirts that you so deeply hated (loved). You found a black shirt, which you threw over your body as you picked a checkered shirt to put on as well, feeling a little lump from the chest pocket. You went through it and pulled out an unused condom, cheeks turning pink as you held out the object and went to the kitchen, proudly exposing it in your hand.

“Is this a gift?” you questioned, laughing wholeheartedly when you noticed Daniel’s cheeks burn red in earth swallowing embarrassment.

“Oh… uhm,” he snatched the condom off you, “you’re wearing my special shirt.”

“Your what?”

“My special shirt. It’s for… good luck… for when I go to baseball games and everything. Or — Or dates. Nothing important, no need to make a great deal out of it.” He felt dead inside, still very confused by the fact that you still hadn’t made the smallest reference to the kiss you’d shared. Was it just a thing that occurred due to the heat of the moment? It broke him just to think so, because for a split minute, he gave himself the permission to picture the two of you together, as an actual couple in love. Was he supposed to bring it up first? Were you waiting for him?

Daniel felt like a jerk, unintentionally pouting.

“Please,” you mumbled. Please stop being pathetic, I really like you too. “Danny?”

“It’s still raining. You can stay… I mean, if you want to, of course.” And gosh, both of you were about to melt, saying nothing, just staring at each other with millions of words being exchanged just through the different kinds of gleams in your eyes. You fucking hated Daniel Kaffee so much.

“Danny?” you repeated and he urgently shook his head, letting you know that you could keep going with the question. You smiled warmly, wrapping your arms gently around his neck, then, “I’d love to stay overnight. Oh, and you’re like seven of the strangest men I’ve ever met.”

FIN.

for your information, me and @honeymvnt wrote this together. might be one of the best things i’ve ever had the chance to write, ilysfm lia 🫵🏼🎀

#tom cruise #daniel kaffee fluff #daniel kaffee oneshot #daniel kaffee #daniel kaffee fanfic #daniel kaffee x reader #daniel kaffee imagine #a few good men #a few good men fanfic #tom cruise oneshot #tom cruise x reader #enemies to lovers #tom cruise imagine #so much fluff #so much tension

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thewandererh · 1 year ago

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bOO‼️

@if-you-heart @if-you-mind @if-you-soul

told heart this but i drew fanart of ya’ll’s sweet angular soul guy :]! i couldn’t not…look at his dumb face…..🥺

i have two versions because the lighting experiment came out ok-ish. t was originally blue (because it was coming from the left side lmao) but red looks better 🤷

it’s a little simple and the composition is messy, but it was a good stress relief + shading practice :D! im proud of it. i’ll definitely draw him (and the gang) more though if i can!! been getting better with hair recently and tested out my skills with this one :]. styling and keeping consistent with hair is tough, but oddly relaxing. did some lineart in the car somehow 👀??

he looks like such a,,,bro i can’t….. i love how stupidly spindly he is

i was attached to this stupid lanky fictional(???) man the *moment* i saw this post. absolutely bonkers. i was so charmed by this concept i shared it to all of my friends you don’t understandjshdkdhdgsgd /silly /but yeah i did do that XD

also you fazgang have been reblogging and liking my stuff 🐥 <- looks up at you like this chick

which,,,,thankie,,…🐥🐥😳💛✨

.-.

for you onlookers have some more posts by the fazgang (what the if-you-hms-gang call themselves) to gaze upon. you will not regret,,

.-.

i’ve noticed a trend that i often tend to write big paragraphs about a simple piece of art i’ve made, which is okay but i get the lack of interaction lol. im very proud of my art, and go on rambles on why i like it. the formatting i turn to aswell as the text and images almost turns the post into a collage? visually?? i love collages so it works out XD! but anyways,, im not upset over notes, i just like getting my art out there. so thank you to everyone whose viewed, read, liked, and followed for the ride :]. im glad you appreciate my stuff, it’s what i can offer <3. it won’t be consistently one fandom but im glad to not be alone in my interests. good god that sounded like a traumatized rant (maybe it was but:)

TLDR: check out if-you-heart/mind/soul :]! they are very cool and nice💛

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wehangout · 9 months ago

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So, the amazing Calli @callivich came up with this beautiful idea for DVD commentary, fic style, and the amazing questions that go with it. As suggested, I'll be indulging myself while talking about:

Thicker Than Forget. Summary: He blinks at you. “What was your first name?” “Erato.” “Erato,” he repeats. “No need to roll the r.” “Like the muse?” You grin. “Poet, meet muse."

AU. Ian is a poet. Mickey is his recently-corporal muse. They eat an absurd amount of stupidly named ice cream, try to find beauty in things, and fall hopelessly in love.

This was fun! Let me know if you want commentary on any other fics!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

So, I wrote this for the Shameless Big Bang in 2021. I couldn’t tell you how long it took me to write (Word is giving me conflicting info), but it was probably my easiest write to date. Word count sits at 30-ish thousand words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

It was initially inspired by a novel. I don’t remember which one, but it was either Lament or Ballad by Maggie Stiefvater. The only similarity between that one and mine is that a character falls in love with their muse. The plot itself is very different.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because it’s almost always Mickey lmao. I did try from Ian’s, but this had to be from the muse’s POV and Mickey had to be the muse.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The smut 👀 if you’ve read it, I hope you understand why lmao

How did you come up with the title?

From the poem, Love is Thicker Than Forget! It fits so well with Ian being a poet and the overall theme of the story.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I went a little meta on fanfic, fandom, and shipping in this, which was so fun. I think only one person seemed to really notice and mention it, though, haha.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I didn’t struggle to write it, but figuring out how to end it was tough. It took a long time for me to figure that out. When I originally came up with the idea it was for an original story, and did not have a happy ending.

Favourite line in the story?

I’m gonna go with lines, plural, because I have a couple

He kisses you and he kisses you and oh. Oh. This is what they were writing about. All the poets, every word of creativity they took from you … it’s this.

He closes his eyes and continues to sigh sonnets into your skin

Also, the last two lines of dialogue, and, I mean, “Fuck the connection” has to be right up there.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

The writing, actually. I’m not a poetic person, none of the poems in the fic are mine, but I’m pretty proud of the poetic nature of the writing.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

So, this is the fic that made me realise I needed to stop taking things so seriously lmao. @captainjowl can attest to the research I tend to do. In this case, every ice cream name was a legit flavour at the time, taken from a Baskin-Robbins website. The mural exists. The flowers and trees in the botanic gardens are flowers and trees found in that exact botanic garden. The hoodie! Taken straight from the Brooklyn Zoo website. The pasta they eat at the North Pond – I used Google Maps to make sure there was an Italian restaurant nearby and looked up ponds in Lincoln Park.

I've since tried to be more chill. Sometimes I fail.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I’d make it longer, if possible.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

It’s a nice idea, because I’d love to write something pretty again, but I have zero inspiration for it.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

Uh, if you’ve read this and Suncatcher you might notice that I, like Ian and Sandy, have a thing for The Doors.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

I don’t know if this is my most popular story, but I was definitely surprised by the intensity of the comments I received. It was one time when I knew I’d written something good, but the way it made other people feel definitely took me by surprise.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I love that this was loved. I still go back and read it every now and then and just sigh.

#fic commentary #ian and mickey #my fic #thicker than forget

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so-much-for-stardust6 · 1 year ago

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Birthday Festivities- Graham Coxon

summary: it’s the first time you and your boyfriend are spending his birthday together. a little wine and a surprise turned the night heated.

lowercase intended

warnings: smut

a/n: two posts within a day :0 also this feels so rushed so i apologize :(

graham has been out in the studio all day, leaving before i woke up. today was his birthday and i had everything set up. i made his favorite dinner, poured his favorite wine and even bought some new lingerie i think he’d like. i set up the dinner table, placing everything nicely. it was 6:45 and graham rang me to say he’d be home about 25 minutes ago. i was a bit nervous for him to arrive, it’s the first birthday we’re spending together and i wanted it to be special. the jingling of keys snapped me out my thoughts, my heart began beating fast.

“y/n, love?” graham calls out.

“in the kitchen, darling.” i respond back.

his footsteps echoed in the hallway, the sound of them getting close made me gulp in nervousness. as soon as he walked in, a look of shock covered his face.

“w-what’s this?”

“happy birthday gra!” i chuckle nervously, stupidly doing jazz hands.

“is- is this all for me?” his eyes scanned the feast in front of him.

“of course, love. it’s your birthday! now come on, sit down and eat, you must be tired from the studio.” i walk over to his chair, pulling it out for him to sit.

“have i ever told you that i love you?” he laughs, taking off his blue puffer jacket.

“many times, but i’m always glad to hear it again.”

graham places his jacket on the back of the chair before sitting down. i help push his chair in, a pinkish tone forming on his cheeks.

“i can’t believe you made this for me.”

“gotta have the birthday boy’s favorite meal.” i smile, sitting down in my own chair.

he digs into his food, humming at the delicious taste exploding all over his tastebuds.

“how was the studio? make any progress on the album?” i ask before shoving my fork into my mouth.

“finally finished a song. i actually came up with this rhythm we might use but we’re not sure.”

“i can’t wait to hear it all! i’m so proud of you boys.”

“oh, thank you love.” he blushes.

“did you want to do anything special for today, hon?”

“just wanna spend time with you.” he confesses.

“well i’m all yours.” i innocently smile.

hearing those words made him shiver, his craving for me intensifying. he was hoping i had some sexy time planned for later, feeling a bit awkward to ask. after three glasses of wine and about an hour or so of chatting, we were both a bit tipsy.

“i got a gift for you, my love.” i giggle.

“is it a guitar?”

“better.” i smirk, getting up to head to the bedroom.

i heard his chair scrape against the floor as he stood up, his footsteps following me. the bed springs squeaked as he sat on the edge, watching me grab a small tiny bag from my bedside.

“what’s that, my dear?”

“you’ll see.” i wink, walking into our shared bathroom.

i closed and locked the door behind me, immediately starting to strip. i had second thoughts about this, what if he didn’t care for the outfit? what if he thought i looked stupid? i took a long look in the mirror, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. the loud noise of the creaking door caught his attention, eyes widening at my outfit. i wore a dark green two piece that was very revealing, barely covering the intimate parts. i stood there in silence, studying his face to see if there was any negative emotion.

“d-do you like it?” i started awkwardly playing with my fingers.

“i-it’s…you’re so hot.” he stuttered out.

“really?” i madly blushed.

“fuck…i need you badly, y/n..” a desperate look on his face.

immediately made my way towards him, towering over his sitting figure.

“what do you want me to do, baby?”

“…ride me…please..” he begged.

“strip.”

he didn’t hesitate to take off his stripped shirt and baggy jeans, discarding them on the floor. i glanced at his hard on through his boxers, proud that i did that to him. i straddle him, his boner poking the inside of my thigh. he slightly whimpers out at the contact, his hips bucking up for any friction.

“you’re such a good boy for me..” i kiss his neck, lightly biting him to create marks.

i slowly start to rock my hips, giving him that friction he needs.

“fuck…” he moans out, gripping my hips.

i push him to lay him on his back, holding onto his shoulders for support. his nails dug into my skin, in a good way that caused me to moan out.

“do you want it now, love? do you want me now?” i moan out.

“yes please, fuck yes.” he whines.

i unclip my bra, giving him access to his favorite part of my body (during sex). his hands left my hips and went to feel my chest, groping and pinching. i struggled to pull down his boxers but i managed to do so with some help from him. his hard dick sprung out, bright red tip leaking with pre cum. i spit out on my hand, going to rub his dick to relieve pressure. i slide my thin underwear aside, guiding his tip to my folds. the feeling of him in that spot ignited fire in my veins.

i finally slid him inside, the feeling of him stretching me out was intense. the look on his face was blissful, eyes squeezed shut as his mouth dropped opened. it was all too much for him, something was different this time but he didn’t know what. he’s been inside of me multiple times before but tonight it felt like the first time, like unfamiliar territory. his sweaty hands landed on my hips again, guiding me on how to ride him. i rolled my hips as i threw my head back, fingernails digging into his shoulders. the bed frame was hitting the wall, definitely marking the paint. the atmosphere in the room quickly became humid, our skin becoming sticky and sweaty.

he bit and sucked on his bottom lip, a habit he’s always had ever since i met him. i lean down to have our first kiss of the day, a throaty moan from him echoing into my mouth. he eventually began guided my hips up and down, the sound of slapping skin joined the sound of our moaning and the loudest bed in the world. “i-i’m close..” he mumbled against my lips.

i bit onto his lip, leaving our sloppy kiss to attack his neck. i sucked and licked the one spot i knew would drive him crazy. i didn’t register the fact that he still had to go to the studio tomorrow all marked up, the rest of his band would know what fun he had for his birthday. i rode him as fast as i could, trying to reach both our orgasms.

the slight buzz from the wine earlier slightly wore off, now being replaced with the buzz of horniness. the sounds our bodies made were gruesome, disgusting to listen to. i felt his muscles spasm, indicating that he’s about to cum. he arches his back, a long and low moan leaving his lips as his hot spurts of cum coated my insides. the way he looked, the way he felt, and the way he sounded pushed me over the edge. my walls stuttered as i clenched onto him, cumming all over his dick. i slow down my movements, slowly riding him before completely stopping. i hop off of him, planting myself next to his warm body.

“best birthday ever.” he breathed out.

i chuckle at his words, looking over at him to meet his loving stare.

“i love you, dear. i hope you know that.”

“i know. and i love you too, gra.” i lean over to peck his plump lips.

we lay there for a bit to catch our breaths, definitely contemplating if we should call it a night.

“now let’s take a shower because i have a little movie night planned. got your favorite movie on vhs.”

“and it just gets better..”

#graham coxon #graham coxon smut #blur #blur band #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #alex james #alex james smut #dave rowntree #dave rowntree smut #90s #britpop #90s smut #90s britpop

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fatuismooches · 2 years ago

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Man I adore tormenting dottore as my love language :3

cw: kinda dark? zandik accidentally hurting us because he's hallucinating (IM NOT AN EXPERT I just think it's like. Very realistic if this were to happen)

Anyways, I like to think that Dottore came from a... Rather unpleasant home, and then especially burned his home town along with everyone who has cursed him (except for you ofc)

Still, the memories hasn't left him. It's not like he could, no matter how much he buries himself in his research. Zandik can't heal when he pretends that it's all fine and that dwelling into such emotions would be a waste of time. This proved to be more prominent during his younger days...

One day, I could just imagine, you come home to your shared dorm, all preppy and smiles because you're finally gonna spend time with the love of your life! Only to see absolute ruin of your dorm—everything was a mess, papers strewn every where, couch flipped, drops of his blood on the floor. You panic, wondering if the Matra finally raided your home to arrest Zandik, then you heard him yell—in your bedroom. You run towards it, frantically, and stupidly.

You should've assessed the situation more. Took a deep breath and calmed your mind—but you were striken with anxiety and fear, and when you shouted "what happened here!?" "What did you do!?" at him, you were quickly met with pain you've never felt before.

He had burned you with a torch, and now you're on the ground, writhing and screaming in hellish pain, cradling the parts of your body that was burnt to a crisp. You see him grinning at you, eyes full of satisfaction and malice.

You thought that this was what he wanted all along, that everything was a lie and he just used you for all your worth, and now that he has nothing to use you for, he has decided to kill you.

But you then hear him shout: "Are you proud of me? I've become the monster you've always told me that I am."

Quickly, you realize that he hadn't meant to hurt you.

The scars stayed, much to Zandik's dismay. After treating your injuries, he has resorted to ignoring you for the next couple of days, being mean and insulting you.

Just be patient with him, you know that he cares. And that he's absolutely crushed that he has hurt you, of all people. He didn't mean it, but now you've got painful scars that will ache for a life time, all because of him. All because he was stubborn to heed your concerns. He wanted to burn the past, he really did. To forget and move on. He hated his childhood so much that he's willing to just let it burn into ashes... But he didn't realize if he tried, he'd burn you along with it.

You see him open his mouth whenever he tends your healing wounds, but then close it, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. You see him read books all about treating burn wounds, cook you meals, ignoring his research all for you—his hands shook, eyes dark though glassy. You know he wants to apologize, but then his eyes goes to your scars, sucks in a deep breath, glares at you and walks away.

He's really doing his best to push you away

Zandik cares so much that he wants you to leave him, hate him, for being who he is, for being what he is. But no, you're smiling so softly and reassuring him that you're fine. That it's not his fault, that he didn't mean it.

And he'd yell he did mean it, that you were just lucky to survive (as if he hasn't lost sleep and progress on his research just to tend to you).

It wasn't his fault, you urged.

You remember it all vividly. Zandik knocking frantically at your home, houses ablaze behind him, his body littered with cuts and bruises. People were carrying torches and pitchforks, makeshift weapons and screaming at Zandik to just leave—and with out much thought, you grabbed as much as you could from your room and ran away with him.

You knew he finally snapped that day. Took matters in his own hands... He never talked much about it, but you could assume what happened. And you were certain he had confronted his parents before it all went to shit.

He wasn't trying to hurt you. He never did, and he would never want to hurt you. You were the exception and will always be, he would rather let the world cave in than letting you bleed by his hands. Zandik was lost in his thoughts, drowning in unpleasant memories and his eyes deceived him—he thought you were someone else, and he wanted to hurt them, not you.

JGJGOFHFJDSJS yeah that, he most definitely probably cry in your arms talking about how much he hates ur scars bc he gave them to you...

I would add more BUT IM LITERALLY IN CLASS AND MY PROFESSOR IS LECTURING HELP OKAY BYE SMOOCHES ILY /P HAVE A GOOD DAY CKCBXKCBDJ

Sorry for this I just like. Exploring struggles and menta shit KBcjcjc

MOOT WHAT IS THIS... WHY ARE YOU HURTING US LIKE THIS my JAW WAS DROPPED THE WHOLE TIME 😭😭 Okay but real. I have two hcs when it comes to Zandik's parents - they were the only ones who loved him but they died when he was really young, or they really just hated him. I've also heard others say "Zandik" can be used as an insult too? I don't know how true that is though. But yeah I think the latter is more likely to be true unfortunately 💔 Even if they were nice to him it wouldn't be enough to counter a whole town's worth of hatred towards him... yup yup the village definitely got burned down to the ground.

One would think that he wouldn't be affected. But he wasn't Dottore yet. He was merely Zandik at this point. He couldn't just shrug it off and go about his day. He pondered. He thought. He felt. He was still more human, more feeling than he wanted to admit, and he absolutely hated it. Still, he didn't regret it, but the memories would simply not leave his head. It was wholly bothersome. After all, not too long ago he was merely a little boy... a little boy who was deemed a monster, a demon child. All the people, even his own parents who accused him were gone now yet... their voices still rang clear in his head. And of course you had no clue, because Zandik would never speak about his feelings under any circumstance.

OUCHHHH HOW CAN I EVEN WRITE THE NEXT PART?? I CAN'T WRITE IT AS GOOD AS YOU oh gosh I WILL TRY. Ah... coming home to your shared dorm. Thinking it's going to be another regular, good day with you and your lover. But it's not, and when you see your home ransacked of course the first thing that goes through your mind is if your Zandik is okay. Of course you you rush to him and beckon him to tell you what happened as anyone would do. Of course you try to reach out to him. And of course, you didn't expect to be licked with flames by your lover's own hand, not only is your body crying out in pain but so is your heart - did Zandik really not care for you after all of these years? The only one who you treasured above all else... perhaps he never viewed you more than a pawn. But then you hear those few words that make you realize what's truly going on - ah, you understand now.

The logical part of Zandik knew that the scars would remain, but the illogical part of him hoped (to think he was even capable of that) badly that they wouldn't. You wonder what his expression was when he was tending to your wounds - you were asleep at the time - but even if you had seen it you probably wouldn't be able to put it into words... it was expressionless yet also not at the same time. He looked empty, and unfeeling, yet he looked the opposite too. And perhaps you wouldn't believe how tenderly he treated your wounds, from the way he's giving you the cold shoulder now. You wouldn't know the way his hands shook the whole time because he did that to you. The one person who would never, who should have never faced his anger, his wrath. It's all his fault, there's no denying that, he hurt you and now you're going to be hurting for the rest of your life too. The last person, no the only person who he doesn't want to see hurt.

Even now, Zandik doesn't understand you. How the fuck are you more calm about this than he is. He hurt you. He burnt you and he meant it and yet in the aftermath, there's not a hint of resentment on your face and he doesn't understand - he hates it so much, you should hate him, in fact it'd make him feel better if you did because how can you even begin to like him a tiny bit after what he's just done, he's claimed to love you and even in that twisted mind of his he knows that's not what lovers do. He doesn't understand why you haven't packed your bags and moved to another dorm by now, hell why do you try to usher him to bed because "lack of sleep is bad for him" what actually goes through your mind...? What went through your mind when you decided to leave with him too? The villagers weren't after you, just him, you could have had a normal life, but you still decided to go with him... you two had no plan, no money, no real necessities but you gave up everything for him anyway. Sigh...

Ouch... i feel like at some point you would just accept your scars but Zandik? Haunts him more than he wants to admit. Don't get me wrong he still thinks you're beautiful but... you know what I mean. Mhm... imagine the child segment asking you where/how you got the scars from and at the moment you make up the most ridiculous lie because that's all your brain can think of because there's no way you're telling the baby that Prime did it. Oh and the angst if Dottore hears that convo :(

Okay... moving on from that angst... PLS You're hella brave for being on tumblr in class, I'm too scared to open it or write fics in general in fear of someone seeing 😭 Once I accidentally opened my blog on my laptop and I closed the tab at LIGHT SPEED. ILY TOO KAI I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL!! ❤️❤️❤️

#smooches talks #moots: kai <3 #dottore love notes <3 #DO I NEED TO PRY THE ANGST FROM UR HANDS KAI?? 💔💔#regardless. I STILL ENJOYED IT I LOVE UR ANGST DONT EVEN APOLOGIZE.#my heart literally beats faster while reading ur angst #ur actually so good at this i struggle to write angst like this ITS PERFECT 🫶#mhm im so excited to respond to ur other fluff angst tho i WAS SMILING SO SO HARD U HAVE NO IDEA

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itsscromp · 2 years ago

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could you write a request where smoke falls in love with mileena and kitana's younger sister? 🥺

Tomas Vbrada/Smoke x reader

Aww, this is a cute idea anon, A gentle reminder to everyone, At the moment I only do platonic stories but I am very happy to do this one-shot :) thank you for understanding everyone. Word count: 597

Smoke was chosen by Lord Liu Kang to be one of his champions for the next Mortal Kombat tournament orchestrated by Empress Mileena. Smoke was very nervous to say the least. Not only has he trained for this moment ever since learning about the tournament. He will have many of outworld's eyes on him. But with some encouragement from Liu kang and Kuai Liang, He stood proud to outworld.

"Empress Mileena" He bowed to her.

"Welcome to outworld Smoke, It is of the highest of honours to introduce you to my kingdom." She bowed in respect. "Outworld is grateful for your help in defeating Shang Tsung and Quan-Chi."

"I would do whatever it takes to help protect the realms Empress."

Mileena smiled at him. "I am sure you remember my sister Kitana ??" Kitana bowed to him as he bowed back. But there was someone he didn't meet. You.

"This little one is our young sister y/n" You softly smiled as you bowed to him. Smoke bowed back but your smile replayed in his mind, It was the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

"It is with greatest of honors to meet you smoke" Your voice was angelic.

"As.. As it is with you too princess" He stuttered, Mentally face-palming.

"Then let us begin the tournament !!" Mileena shouted as Outworld cheered.

Smoke was sitting in the cart on the way to the palace, It so happens to be the same cart that you were in as well. Smoke lightly blushed seeing your face. Thank the elder gods for his mask covering it.

"How long have you been apart of the shirai ryu ??" You asked him as he looked down shyly trying to come up with the answer.

"My brother and I started our clan last month"

"That's very exciting smoke" Your smile showing again, this time his blush deepening for you to slightly see.

"Are you ok smoke ??"

"It's just warm... that's all"

It was slightly hot outside so that could be it, you continued to get to know Smoke, How he grew up. What Kuai Liang was like, It was an enjoyable conversation.

The tournament began and Smoke faced his first enemy, He was eager to impress the citizens of outworld. But he was most eager to impress you.

You watched him as he fought long and hard, It was a very impressive sight indeed. Then came the true test. Fighting empress Mileena herself.

You hoped that Smoke would be able to not get hurt to bad.

"You can do it smoke !!" You shouted to him.

He looked out and nodded at you, With this sense of encouragement, He fought Mileena with all his might and came out victorious. Earthrealm is declared the victor in this tournament.

Smoke was so happy to represent Earthrealm in the best way possible.

"Tonight we feast and celebrate the victory of Earthrealm" MIleena declared.

The night arrived and Smoke was grateful for the feast that Outworld has put on for Earthrealm, As he plated his food, He saw you. Sitting by yourself.

"May I join you ??" He asked politely.

"Of course" You smiled as he took his seat. "You did amazing out there today."

"Thank you Princess, I was grateful for the fight with the Empress"

"I knew I could believe in you"

Out of nowhere, you then kissed his cheek gently.

Smoke was lost for words, He was a blushing mess and started to smile stupidly. He was in love with you. He was fully in love with you no doubt about it.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

#reader insert #tomas vbrada #Smoke #smoke mk1 #Tomas Vbrada x reader #smoke x reader

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steddieunderdogfics · 1 year ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: MuseumGiftShopEraser! They have 9 works on AO3 in the Stranger Things Fandom, and 6 of those are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @museumgiftshoperaser:

Paint the Devil on the Wall

Conversations About Love

Now I'm A Stranger

An Exercise In Denial

Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me

Her fics are BEAUTIFUL. When I first read Paint the Devil on the Wall I was so obsessed I immediately recced the fic to everyone I knew who would be vaguely interested in a steddie fic. -- anonymous

Below the cut, @museumgiftshoperaser answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I stumbled into it immediately after season 4 came out. I’ve felt very attached to Steve as a character from the beginning of the show and I think I was subconsciously waiting for someone to pair him up with. I think they’re both such great characters to explore themes of dealing with expectation (either by conforming, or fighting against it) and that’s something I always love to write about.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Absolute sucker for fake dating. Can’t get enough of it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Enemies to lovers! Though now that I’m looking through my AO3 I haven’t actually written that much of it. It doesn’t have to be very intense enemies, though. I just like it when characters don’t immediately get along.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

My brain has been forever rewired by took you for a working boy by pukner. It’s such a gentle, nuanced queer story. It feels vulnerable to me in a way that really only fanfiction can be. Can I sneak in another one?? Because everyone should also absolutely read the shame is on the other side by scoops_ahoy. It taps into this very specific kind of queer compartmentalizing, that I’ve never seen written this well. It broke my heart and patched it right back up.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been stupidly busy with my masters lately so there’s probably not a lot of writing on my horizon. I do have a wip called Doll that I’m slowly chipping away at. It’s a little darker than stuff I’ve written before. I know ‘dark’ isn’t really a trope, but I’m excited to see if I can push these characters a little further.

What is your writing process like?

Absolute chaos. I write non-chronologically, without an outline, all in the same document. I keep writing snippets and scenes until the whole thing slowly comes together.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Italicizing words for emphasis. I love it so much, you can rip it from my cold dead hands. It accidentally makes its way into my academic writing for my degree sometimes which is a little embarrassing, but I just love the flair of it.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I don’t really do schedules, it doesn’t work for me at all. I try to make sure I have a decent amount of the story written before I start posting to give me a bit of a head start, but forcing myself to finish something by a certain date is a surefire way to kill my motivation.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Probably Paint the Devil on the Wall. It was the first time I’d written the entire story before I started posting so it went through way more rounds of editing than normal. I think you can really tell. It’s also the longest story I’ve ever written (in general, even outside of fanfic). The whole project gave me a lot of confidence as a writer.

How did you get the idea for Paint the Devil on the Wall?

I knew I wanted to participate in the Bigbang and the deadline was coming up, but I still didn’t have an idea. I decided to work backwards and try to think of something that would be fun for the artist(s) to draw. I had a vision of Eddie wearing dungarees without a shirt, absolutely covered in paint and I knew I had to write something to make it happen. I set the story in 80s New York because neo expressionism is really the only kind of art I could see Eddie making. I think it suits him very well. I do actually have a background in art, though! I’m currently getting my MFA, but I’ve worked full time as an artist for several years before that. I had a lot of fun working my passion for art (and all those art history classes I had to take) into the fic.

When writing Paint the Devil on the Wall, what was something you didn’t expect?

All of Steve’s character, to be honest. The fic is written from Eddie’s POV and for a large part of it he has a very hard time figuring out what Steve’s deal is. Right alongside him, I also had an incredibly hard time figuring out his character. It wasn’t until I was working on the final chapter that he finally clicked for me. I realized very late, just like Eddie, that Steve liked him from the very beginning. Most of the enemies to lovers premise was all in Eddie’s head.

What inspired Now I'm a Stranger?

Oh boy, that was forever ago! I remember I started writing it while I was camping with friends because I liked having something to do after everyone went to bed at night. I think I had the idea for that very first scene where Steve doesn’t remember Eddie and it all sort of spiraled from there.

What was your favorite part to write from An Exercise in Denial?

That was the very first fic I wrote, right after season 4 came out! I’ve never written something that fast, I think the whole thing took me less than a week. My favorite part was probably Robin being completely exasperated with both of them. They’re such complete idiots in that fic.

How do/did you feel writing Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me?

Ahhh… I never got around to finishing that one. I probably never will, to be honest. I wrote the first two parts quite quickly and then the idea I had for the plot spiraled out of control and I realized I didn’t actually feel like writing the rest of it. There were going to be a lot of misunderstandings and I learned that I find that an incredibly frustrating trope to write (when done for drama at least. For comedy, I’m a sucker for misunderstandings.) So I guess I felt a little in over my head.

What was the most difficult part of writing Conversations About Love?

The ending! That fic is so incredibly personal to me and I knew from the beginning that I wanted it to have a very sappy, happy ending. It was important to me to write an aromantic character getting everything they wanted, but I realized as I was writing it that I don’t actually fully know what that means. So it took a bit more soul searching than fics typically do, but it was very much worth it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I still think the short little prologue for Paint the Devil on the Wall is the best thing I’ve written. “You don’t draw on things that aren’t yours, baby” is probably the best summary I have for that story.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Not really!

Thank you to our author, @museumgiftshoperaser, and our anonymous nominator! See more of @museumgiftshoperaser works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers

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totally-not-here-for-the-smut · 2 years ago

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This stuff is LONG and complex, and I’m not a native speaker. Which means, it’s hell, WHY BRAIN GOT NO RIGHT WORDS DAMMIT, but it’s also cool bc I can’t really understand HOW bad it actually is, so I’m less self-demanding about the actual style quality than in my own stupidly demanding language. Let’s get to the content then. I’m so very sorry for my children’s book language-level.

Pls believe that I am, in fact, not a child.

Tw:death, sickness, angst

and this is-

Loved & Lost

A The Arcana prequel fanfic - part 1

When the plague came, it started robbing you right away- it took your aunt and, before eventually claiming your own life, your love.

The wise woman who had been your magic mentor was one of the first to fall ill, as if the pestilence were trying to thin out the ranks of those who could stop it. She felt right away this was not a normal illness. The sickness got slowly the best of her body, as if it wanted to seep unnoticed into the city. Your aunt's body withered a little bit each day, her skin slowly tinging red by the engorged veins, but it never managed to steal her wits until the very end. When she was at last bedridden, she had Asra call for you.

You didn't recall where you were at that time. Your magical training was long completed, and you were travelling the world, scavenging for rare spell components, old scrolls and lost magic to bring home to her and to her new apprentice. You got home just in time.

The woman who was a little sore as you kissed her goodbye all those weeks ago now seemed barely more tangible than a ghost - pale and trembling, her clothes hanging empty from her once proud and graceful shoulder. But her eyes, although now tinted in red, were sharp and stern as they had always been.

You did not show any pity for her -she would never have allowed you to-, but when she took you hand in hers her gentle touch unveiled her deepest nature.

"I'm leaving, child", she told you. "But I need the two of you to stay as much as you can".

She called Asra by her side with a nod.

"I have lived a long life. The time I gave it back has long passed, but now death is catching up to me. Spare your tears and magic for the victims to come" she turn her head to face your friend. His purple eyes were veiled in tears.

"Asra, you're a mage now, your training is almost done. In fact, my nephew took my place as your master some time ago already. She'll be more than capable to fill in the gaps in your knowledge. Soon, you'll be a mage, but" - her eyes went narrow- "I want you to remember that you were took from the streets. Someone cared for you, listened to you, taught you everyone you know. You will have to pass your care on to whoever will need it. This is why I taught you magic". Asra couldn't do anything but nod. His lips parted, pronouncing a promise so feeble you couldn't hear -but your aunt did, and a faint smile showed on her chapped lips.

"Believe me, soon many will need it. But I know you'll both live up the cause. Now leave, I need to rest".

You didn't even take your travelling clothes off - you threw yourself into Asra's arms -now your apprentice's arms- to hold each other through the sorrowful night.

She died shortly after. Many vesuvian would have come to salute her, but you and Asra decided to do hold a more private gathering - you, him, and Faust. The snake was so torn that even her scales seemed to grey. She squeezed one last time your aunt's familiar, a pitch black crane called Hermes, who took flight as soon as the mage's funeral pyre was lit.

You kept your head high and your eyes on the flames, resisting the urge to bury your face on Asra's chest and cry your heart out. Instead, you held his hand tight, grounding yourself into the two things that mattered in that moment: Asra's love, and the promise you both made her - to stay and care for the city.

So, when the plague erupted in Vesuvia and Asra began insisting to leave, your fights became vicious.

✧

I want to really thank @wilson-artisan and @lovely-dove69 for their help as proofreaders. They un-dorked my writing a lot.

I feel that I must pay credit to various writers as well who inspired me: check bakuliwriter's "Hurt", that set ablaze my drama thirst. I can totally see it in the same timeline as this thing.

The other parts will be in te reblogs!

Navigate it from my masterlist

#the arcana #the arcana game #asra the magician #arcana #julian devorak #the arcana smut #arcana fanfic #asra smut #julian smut #julian devorak smut #julian x reader smut #arcana angst #the arcana angst #the arcana prequel #asra x reader smut

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harrysmileycostume · 3 months ago

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Heart and Soul

cannot quite decide what to do with this... I have a whole bunch of sequential chapters but never finished this series on ao3 years ago. thoughts welcome below :)

It'd been two months since you'd seen him.

Jane broke up with him because she was going abroad this summer to Italy and anticipated having sex with random people. Well, she didn't say it that way. But that's what everyone knew it was.

And that was fine. That was a decent reason, and it'd be better to break it off now than to go and cheat on him. Your sister didn't frequently make such considerate choices, especially without your consultancy, so you were proud of her. You were a little surprised when she told you, but you were proud.

You imagined that when she told him, he'd cried a little about it, seeing that he did really love her. He'd probably blinked out a few tears and took it decently out of respect, and then she'd left his flat and he allowed himself to really wallow and cry out of pity for the night, tears coating his perfect pink lips.

All of your friends and every woman you knew, virtually, always seemed to be complaining that men didn't want to commit. Jane had the very opposite problem. Any time she had a boyfriend, they were infatuated with her. They did all the right things: bought her expensive gifts, tagged along to family dinners and things of that sort. He'd tagged along on essentially every family event for two years now. He attended birthdays, holidays, game nights, football games…

That's how you got to know Harry. He was your sister's painfully handsome, genuinely caring, and epically fantastic boyfriend--the boyfriend that she'd ditched for Italian people that didn't speak her language and would never show her little sister pictures of their cats or teach her short songs on the family piano.

You were in love with him. You were absolutely in love with him. You met him when you were nineteen, and you'd never felt that way for anyone, and you probably never would again.

You searched for him in everyone. Jane had him, and gave him away.

And now, he was standing in front of you on your doorstep, holding flowers. He cleared his throat. "Hi," he said. "Was hoping it'd be you, not your flatmates," he added.

"Hi," you replied, blinking. You stared at the bouquet in his hand.

He extended it then. "For you," he said.

For your family, you were sure. You had no idea why he was here, but he probably came to your flat because regardless of reason, he didn't want to face your mother and father. You couldn't blame him. That was one of your favorite things about Harry, that he made time spent with your parents much more bearable.

"Did someone pass away?" you blurted out, staring down at them.

There was a small blank card attached to them, and you thought maybe there'd be a condolence message on the opposite side.

"No," he answered you, frowning.

"I was going to say, I didn't hear anything," you said stupidly, taking the flowers finally. “Thank you, though. They’re lovely.” Why was this so awkward? You were friends.

"Don’t mention it. Actually, I came to talk to you," he said.

"Harry," you said sadly, "She's leaving this week. I even already said goodbye to her."

He nodded. "I know. I wanted to talk to you, I said," he restated.

You shrugged uncomfortably. Now you really had no idea why he was here. "Come inside. Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," you said, moving out of the doorway to make room for him.

"No, you weren't. I understand it might be strange," he said uneasily. When you both were inside, he shut the door behind him and stared at you, taking you in amongst your pathetic little artists' playground. "Always liked your flat. Your friends are fun," he said.

You smiled. He'd only been here a few times, mostly to drop off or pick up a blackout drunk Jane. "Thanks. You're polite."

"I like it, though, really," he said, looking around some more.

"Um, you can sit. Let me find a spot for these," you said, going into your kitchen and finding one of your flatmates there.

Adrienne looked up from her bowl of cereal, intrigued. "Harry?" she mouthed.

"Yes," you hissed, trying to find something to do with the flowers he'd brought you.

"He brought you them?" she asked you quietly still.

You sighed. "Yes. I don't know."

She raised her eyebrows excitedly.

"What?" you asked.

"Y/N," she murmured. "He brought you flowers."

You rolled your eyes. "Not like that. He's probably going to ask me how to get her back or something," you said lowly, finally finding a random vase atop of your fridge and rinsing it out. "Hopefully, he's just being polite. For his sake, I mean. God knows Jane leaves broken hearts in her wake."

She peeked out of the kitchen to see him sitting on the couch. "He's nervous."

You placed the flowers in the vase. "We know each other very well; he shouldn't be. Bye," you said, not wanting to be rude and linger too long, taking the vase with you to put it on the coffee table.

You re-entered the living room, placing the vase down and sitting next to him on the couch. "Sorry," you said, not really knowing why. You were just anxious all of a sudden. Why was he here?

"Don't apologize, you're fine. Ah, did you read the card?" he asked you, his eyes wide.

Your face fell, and you looked back over at the piece of card stock attached to the flowers. "No, I didn't. Should I have?" you asked, reaching for it.

"No," he stopped you. "I mean, I should tell you," he corrected himself. "I was nervous you had. I'm sorry," he said.

"Well, I didn't," you assured him, resting back onto the couch. "Harry, what is it?" you asked kindly, not accustomed to seeing him so unsure of himself.

He shut his eyes a second and cleared his throat. "I was wondering… Y/N, what would you think if I were to ask you to go out on a date with me?"

You blinked, your lips parting. You were silent for a moment.

What would you think? Well, your first instinct was to jump for joy. Your second was to hit him. How long had you known him, and just now he was asking you this? And how were you supposed to know if he was just looking to date a less appealing Jane? You did bare some resemblance to her…

Jane was two years ahead of you in school, Harry being another two ahead of her. And despite her preference for older boys, all of the boys appropriate for you to date always seemed to have ulterior motives for associating with you. Even after school, at uni, Jane was far more popular with boys than you. You attended separate universities, but you knew it for a fact. She was always telling you to just be more confident, but it was more than that. She was so pretty and endearing and fucking cool, with DD sized breasts.

You were lame. You always had been, and you never fucking figured out how she got her eyelashes to be that long with just mascara, and you hated parties, and never made a good first impression.

He interrupted your thought process. "I understand I'm a bit older than you, but I really think you're just… You're very mature for your age, and I don't mean that to sound weird, I just don't see it being a problem. And I tried to stop thinking of you, Y/N, I did, but--"

"It's not our age that primarily concerns me, Harry," you interrupted him, incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me?" you asked him more directly.

"No, I know," he said, his face falling. "I know."

You sighed. "You're asking me… You're asking me if I'd like to be second to her yet again, now with you," you said.

He shook his head. "Not second. Not second, Y/N--"

"Yes, second!" you exclaimed. "Because… Because you've been dating her two years now, Harry. If you wanted to leave her and be with me, you've had plenty of time to realize that and do it," you said.

"It's not that easy," he said quietly.

"So you just waited for her to breakup with you," you replied. "That's idiotic. That's either idiotic, or untrue."

"Untrue," he said. "I… When I first met you…" he trailed, taking a deep breath. "I just knew it would be wrong, and I did love her. I love her; I just--"

You stood and turned away from him. "Get out."

"What?" he asked you. "Y/N, don't--"

"You love her now?" you asked, your voice trembling. "This is so mean, Harry."

"No," he said. "No! No, I didn't mean that. No, fuck. Y/N… No, I don't love her. I did, really. And I was always interested in you; I always thought you were pretty and kind and smart and so… so different," he told you. "But I just… You were younger, and I knew it was wrong altogether, so I pushed it away. And she left me. She left me, and I feel like shit because it's not her I'm missing," he said.

You folded your arms, alarmed at that.

"Y/N… When she told me… When she told me she was leaving me, I thought of you first," he said quietly. "I miss you, and I love you, and--"

You spun around to face him. "You don't love me. You love the idea of being with her again," you said back, not prepared to see him so upset. "You loved her, Harry. Don't act like you were pining over me as you helped her steal my Monopoly money."

"What about while I taught you Heart and Soul?" he asked you.

You shut your eyes. You always told yourself that your hands were bound to bump into each other and entangle; you were playing it as a duet when it was only meant for one person, and you were an awful, horrid player. He pierced your heart as your hands fumbled together on your family's piano, his eyes always so intense and compassionate.

"You know that I love you," you said quietly. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't know that."

"I knew you had a little crush, sure," he replied as though you hadn't declared what you had. "Jane always got angry with me about it."

You half scoffed, half laughed. "She was right to, wasn't she?" you asked.

He nodded. "Yes, I suppose. And… And I know it's wrong, and if you're this upset by it, I can't imagine what your parents or Jane might think, but…" he trailed. "I couldn't not try. I miss you. And I couldn't not know," he said. "But you love me," he stated. "You… You love me," he repeated, smiling.

"How could I not?" you asked. "How could I not when you're everything I've always wanted? You're charming, and you're handsome, and earnest, and smart, and surprisingly silly, and you, like… You have your shit together. And you're good with Grace and Michael," you said, mentioning your little cousins and getting choked up. Wouldn't this confuse them, too? "I always just thought… I looked at you and Jane and I knew it was what I wanted, but what I'd never have."

He quirked his brow. "And why not? You could get a boyfriend," he said plainly.

"One like you?" you asked softly, shaking your head.

"Maybe," he answered. "Maybe, if you'd have me."

You scoffed, laughing. "In two weeks, you're going to realize that her breasts are three times the size of mine and I have no idea how to shotgun anything and--"

He got up, walked over to you, and cupped your face in his hands. "Stop. Stop it. You're so mean to yourself when it comes to her, and I hate it."

"I'm boring and plain and--" you whimpered.

He kissed your forehead. "You're Y/N. She's Jane. That's all," he said softly. "You're very pretty, Y/N. And she's jealous of you as well."

"Never in a million years--"

"Your art," he told you. "She graduated a year ago and she doesn't know what the fuck she's doing still. Your parents finance everything for her. You took what you're amazing at and you made a career out of it. You got that exhibition uptown, right?" he asked you. "You aren't even out of school yet and look at all of these opportunities you have for yourself. That's outstanding, Y/N."

You nodded humbly. "But she's going to Italy, and she'll figure something out. She'll meet some man to take care of her. We all know she'll be fine."

"She will. So will you," he said. He kissed your cheek and stared at you.

"Did you ever notice we have the same nose?" you whispered, your faces so close.

"I'm finished talking about her," he replied. "I'm interested in you."

"Kiss me," you rasped, swooning over those words. You could be dreaming. "Kiss me so we know what it's like."

He leaned down and captured your lips with his. His hands moved to your waist, and yours came up to hold his shoulders: his broad, muscular shoulders you'd been infatuated with since freshman year. He was a college senior back then, bright eyed and sexy and fun. You remembered what he was wearing when you first met him, a red sweater and nice, dark jeans with Doc Martens. You thought he was far too smart for Jane that winter break, but she kept bringing him home, and he kept spending the night in her room.

You pulled away from him, and he stared down at you. You cleared your throat. "Again. Sorry, I need to focus," you said, and although it was the truth, as soon as you spoke it, you heard how ridiculous it sounded.

He smiled, unbothered by your little sister awkwardness as he always was, and kissed you again, this time his hands working at your back and his tongue entering your mouth. You moaned. This was kissing Harry, you knew it. You squeezed his arms, kissing him back with all the longing that had been in your heart for two long years.

He'd wanted it, too. He'd wanted you back.

He began breaking up the kiss with short, small, sticky ones, slowly pulling you both apart. "What does it feel like, then?" he said quietly, referring to your earlier statement.

"Feels like…" you trailed, collecting yourself. "Feels like playing Heart and Soul," you said, the word leaving your mouth before you processed them again. It happened a lot around Harry, you knew.

He beamed, nodding. "It does."

You were standing in your living room, and Harry Styles was holding you. Harry Styles, your sister's long-term boyfriend, was holding you to his chest, having just kissed you within an inch of your life.

What did this mean? You wished it meant that he never wanted her and only you, that he'd been pretending her kisses were yours for two years and he was all too shy to ever admit it. But you knew that wasn't true. He was in love with Jane, he'd told you himself.

He’d even said, supposedly accidentally, that he still did love her.

He saw your face falter. "I'm asking for a date," he spoke up. "A date to see what comes of it. And… And you don't have to say yes, and you don't have to say anything, just…" he trailed.

You nodded. "I know. Can I have a day or so to think? And I'll text you," you said.

He nodded back at you. "Yes, of course. Absolutely," he said.

You couldn't resist. You pecked him once more.

He moved his hand back to your face and caressed your cheek.

"Promise me, though," he started slowly, and you looked him in the eye to let him know you were listening, "that you'll think of yourself when deciding, not Jane." He kissed your nose. "Think of us," he said softly. "We'll figure it out, I promise. If it's meant to be, we'll figure it out."

You could've melted in his arms. You leaned forward and pressed your cheek to his chest, afraid you'd squeal in excitement and forego the opportunity to really take everything into consideration.

"Promise me?"

"Yes, Harry," you replied, and his hand repositioned itself at your waist where it massaged your waistline gently.

You breathed him in, yours for just a moment.

"You love me," he spoke in disbelief. "That's… That's outstanding." You didn't reply, smiling into his jacket. He smoothed your hair, coddling you here. You'd never seen him and Jane so intimate, but you should stop comparing yourself right this instant.

He kissed the very top of your head. "All right. I imagine I've bothered you enough for one day," he said, pulling away from you.

"No, you haven't bothered me," you assured him. “You've… perplexed me, at the least. Overjoyed me at most," you said.

He smiled at that. "You can text me. I can't… I hope I'm not being presumptuous to say that I can't wait to see you."

You didn't reply, but gave him a knowing look. "Think of me while I'm deciding," you instructed him finally.

"Think of you?" he asked.

"Yes," you affirmed your narcissistic request. "Think of us," you whispered dramatically, teasing him then.

He cocked his head to the side. "It was meant to be romantic."

"It was," you agreed earnestly.

You stared at each other a moment longer before he cleared his throat. "All right. Thank you for… for hearing me. I know it's strange; I… I honestly am unlike this."

You nodded. "I know. Have a great Sunday, Harry," you said, wanting him to leave before he changed his mind somehow or one of you said something and everything was ruined.

"You too, Y/N, and a good week in class, yeah?" he asked you. You smiled at that; he was always so attentive to the fact that you were a student still, asking you questions about your classes and your art and your friends and other things.

"Yes, Harry. Goodbye," you said.

"Goodbye, Y/N. I love you," he told you, leaving your front door then without giving you time to say it back.

You stood still in silent shock for a few minutes before retreating to your bedroom to do some homework. You could mull over your decision later tonight when you’d had some time to come down from his kiss.

Later that night, you were making yourself popcorn in the kitchen, thinking of Harry’s lips and Jane’s trip to Italy.

“Y/N,” Carla called from the living room. She was another one of your roommates. “Love you dearly, H?” she asked.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?” you asked, coming out of the kitchen of course just as the microwave beeped. “Is that what the flowers say?” you asked her.

“Yes. Who’s this H?” she asked you.

You blinked, figuring you could tell her. She wasn’t Jane or your mum or dad. “Harry. Harry Styles.”

“Jane’s hot boyfriend?” she exclaimed.

“Not as of two months ago,” you replied, smirking as you turned around to get your popcorn.

“Sod your popcorn! Y/N,” Carla called, following you into the kitchen. “Do you mean to tell me he… He loves you?”

You nodded, taking it out of the machine. “That’s what he says. He asked me to go on a date with him. Technically, I am still thinking about it, but I think I know what I want to do, and that’s see what happens,” you said. “Carla… He kissed me, and… It was the most darling thing I’ve ever experienced. He said when she broke up with him, he thought of me first,” you said.

Carla shook her head. “Holy shit. Jane’s gonna die.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t kill her. It’s not like we’re getting married; we’re gonna go to lunch or something and maybe he can feel me up after. It’s not…” you trailed, a little disappointed in yourself then. “It’s not bad, is it?”

Carla sighed, shrugging. “He doesn’t seem to think so, I suppose.”

“We’re both sensitive about it,” you defended shyly.

“He kissed you, though,” Carla clarified.

You nodded, beaming. “He kissed me, and it was like… It was like I was dreaming. I probably have kissed him in my dreams before,” you said, being able to count the sex dreams you’d had of Harry, but not wanting to reveal that.

“I never would’ve guessed it,” Carla said. “Although when I see him, he does seem to really like you. I think maybe I never thought of it just because of Jane.”

You nodded. Dear Jane. Blonde Jane. Careless Jane.

“She’ll just have to get over it,” you said finally. “Besides, like I said, it’s not like we’re getting married. I think we’ll just have to see how we are together.” When you thought of it, you didn’t think you’d been with Harry much without Jane around. And that made sense, but it also made you nervous to be alone with him.

“So just a lunch date and some fondling,” Carla said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Tell me about your kiss today. Oh, he’s so handsome, Y/N, and nothing like these silly college boys.”

“I know,” you replied excitedly. “He… He was holding my face in his hands—”

“Oh shit—”

“And he kissed me on the cheek and he was talking to me and I just told him to kiss me, and he did,” you said. “At first, I was thinking of him and Jane and not really focusing, so I pulled away and kissed him again, and he was caressing my back, and oh, Carla,” you said, smiling. “He is the sexiest, most unbelievable man I’ve ever met. I love him. I’m in love with him, oh my God,” you rambled.

“I only hope it works out,” she said. “You said you were thinking of him and Jane at first?”

“Only because… I did feel bad,” you admitted. “But Carla, I love him. I’ve known that I have for years now. He’s… I have to try,” you said finally. “I have to. To know that he’d even consider me, to know that he’s apparently in love with me…”

“That he loves you,” Carla corrected you. “You love each other. You’ve spent enormous amounts of time together and grown acquainted. You care for one another. Can you be in love? Can you work together?” she asked you. “Those are different questions

“You’re right,” you said. “But I don’t know the answer to them and I want to.”

She nodded. “Right. You really don’t know. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. In that way, it’s like a relationship with anyone else.”

You popped a piece of popcorn in your mouth and held out the bowl for her to grab some. “It is exciting, though.”

Carla smiled, popcorn in her mouth. “Oh my God, yeah. He’s so sexy.”

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff

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