#staring at page is best way to lose all sense of time and space and emotion

[heywriters]

ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffine. i'll write something

[thegreatwizardelwin]

The Sea Hare: Scene 1 

A Freminet x Gn! Reader

Reader is a theater kid, vision holder, and upcoming librettist. They have been close friends with Freminet for some time now, but as it would happen, the symphony of their hearts has begun to swell. Crescendo!

You paced around your studio, acting out a scene for an upcoming show that was being written. As the librettist, you were in charge of writing the spoken dialogue. 

“Constantine, you poison me with your words of calumny! The more I am beside you, the more I hate the people of the world.” you exclaimed in character. “No, that’s no good.” you tapped your foot for a moment before returning to the typewriter and settling on a different line.

In the midst of your work, there was a knock on the door.

“Enter!” you called from the desk.

Through the door came Freminet, one of your good friends, escorted by the receptionist for the building.

“Oh, it’s you! Evening, Fremi!”

He looked around the studio, taking in everything. A moving staircase with small spotlights. A barren stage below it and other equipment to the side; microphone stands, low quality props, and a piano covered by a sheet.

“Good evening. So, this is the new studio you mentioned?” he questioned.

“Mhm, this is where I work, for now. It’s a lovely little arrangement, nice and quiet and next to the lyricist I work with frequently.” you explained, rising.

Freminet wandered over to you. His gaze was curious, wanting to know more about your work. The two of you stood, simply staring at each other. You pursed your lips, awkwardly looking away. 

“Would you like to see the manuscript so far?” you walked to the desk, seating yourself. He followed.

“Sure!” he said, placing his hands on the back of your chair and leaning forward.

You handed back a couple papers you had already typed up. Some had pen scribblings on them where you had made typing errors.

He looked over them with interest for a little while, having ransacked another chair and made himself cozy.

“How does one write dialogue so well? Do you just sit here and think about it?” he asked, handing the papers back to you.

You chuckled and took the papers. Then, you began to traipse your way across the room to the stage.

“Yes, but I also do some experimenting. I can act out what I write to make sure it feels natural, and to visualize how the real performers might take it.” you explained. 

You cleared your throat and began reading from the page in your hand. “Oh, Mr. Letterman, you are too late! That train has already left.” you spoke expressively, acting as a train conductor. You then pivoted and took on a new role: “For Archon’s sake! …Perhaps it is for the best that I never see her again.” you dramatically turned away from the now invisible conductor.

Freminet cocked his head, amused by your little performance.

“You have such charisma, why not try acting yourself?” he asked.

You paused, arms falling to your side, the paper making a crinkling sound.

“My stage fright is terrible.” you admitted. “I can handle one or two people, but entire crowds… I lose my voice and just stare off into space. But I still love theater, so I decided to be behind the scenes instead.”

Freminet looked down at the paper in the typewriter.

“You write good.” he commented quietly.

You smiled at him, using your vision to swiftly appear by his side. He shifted a bit, surprised by your closeness.

“And what about you, dear Freminet? Can you act?” you grabbed his shoulders and gently escorted him to the stage as well.

He made a sound of discomfort being moved, looking around at the stage.

“No.” he said flatly. “I’m too… calm… for it all.”

You laughed a bit. 

“There are plenty of calmer parts in shows!” you reminded him.

“I know but you have to be so exaggerated so that the audience can get it!”

“Not necessarily-”

“I’m too shy.” he stated with finality. “I don’t… I don’t even know how to be myself around others half the time. How could I be someone else?”

You backed off, sensing he was serious. You took his arms and spun him in a slow circle.

“Individuality is easy to know but hard to express, hmm?” you said, walking over to the steps of the mobile stairway.

He sighed softly, looking down at his boots.

“You’re right. But you seem to express yourself just fine!” he turned to you.

You gave him a little laugh.

“I’m not as open as you think. There are bits and pieces I guard too, you know. And, it’s ok to be quiet and not be conversational, that’s part of who you are.” you ran your hand up the railing.

“I’ve been this way since I was a little kid, though, I feel like I should be growing more open as I get older.” he put his hands on his hips, looking up at you.

You leaned on the railing.

“You wait, little boy, on an empty stage for fate to turn the light on.”

You flicked the small spotlight on, illuminating Freminet and the stage. He jumped, covering his eyes with his hands. 

“Your life, little boy, is an empty page that people want to write on.”

He gave you a dry glance.

“Stop quoting old musicals.”

“Timid and shy and scared are you of things beyond your ken~”

You giggled, flicking the light back off.

He pouted slightly.

“You’re not listening to me.” he mumbled, crossing his arms.

You descended the stairs.

“I hear you loud and clear, but I just like seeing you get all annoyed with me.” you patted his head, passing by him on the way back to your desk.

He blushed a little, accentuating his freckles. 

“Rude.” he huffed, yet trailed behind you like a duckling. “When are you going home?”

“In an hour or so. Do you want to wait and walk with me?” you perked up.

He nodded in confirmation. 

“I’d like that.”

+

You strolled down the streets of Fontaine, Freminet at your side. It was a humid twilight, having rained an hour or so ago. The lights of the city were just beginning to stand out, glistening in the puddles.

You were both rather quiet on the walk. Freminet was always quiet, of course, but for some reason he was distracted tonight. 

Arriving at your boarding house, you faced each other. He looked at you expectantly. You wrapped your arms around him, inhaling his fresh scent. He was quick to squeeze you, resting his cheek on your shoulder. 

Of course you had to make all the first moves, no matter how much he wanted it. It was part of his nature.

He’s so touch starved, you thought to yourself, feeling a little flustered at how much he clung to you. His gloved hands pressed against your back, keeping you close. 

You gingerly broke away. His eyes were glued to the ground, a soft pink dusting his face. He had the sweetest smile.

“Night, Y/N.” he spoke, waving shortly and continuing on his way.

“Night, Fremi.” you responded; a little lost, watching him walk away.

You opened the door to the boarding house, moved inside, shut the door, and took a deep breath. 

Whoa.

You sank to the floor, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. 

Your landlady looked up from her book and coffee.

“Oh? Y/N, what’s the matter?” she asked, a little concerned.

“Not sure.” you muttered absentmindedly, drawing your knees up to your body and staring at nothing in particular. Your heart was racing.

Freminet is the matter.

She set her things down, approaching you.

“You’ve practically collapsed, are you feeling sick or tired?”

“Ms. Maddie…  I can hardly breathe!” you said wistfully, your tone conveying exactly what you were feeling.

It clicked for her. Being an old lady, she knew quite a few things about youngins.

“Were you with someone you like?” she suggested.

“Well, it was a close friend. But I…” your mouth hung open, picturing Freminet’s docile blue eyes, “I don’t like him… like that.” 

That was more of a question now than a statement. 

It was ridiculous really. You were always affectionate with him, it was bound to grow genuine at some point.

Ms. Maddie chuckled as old ladies do when they find something amusing.

“He takes your breath away it would seem.” she noted.

“I’m being silly.” you closed your eyes, leaning back against the door. “But then again he really is so…” you hid your face. “Why is this happening!”

“I think, Y/N, you are developing a crush on this friend.” she stated obviously. 

“I guess,” you conceded, “but, that complicates everything. Now that I’ve admitted it, it will be harder to ignore it.”

“Hmmm… then maybe you shouldn’t do that. You never know, it could be mutual.”

You spaced out even more at the notion that Freminet might feel love for you.

Ms. Maddie walked you to your room.

“Now, if you need anything else you come knocking, alright?”

“Thank you, Ms. Maddie.” 

You locked the door for the night and prepared for bed.

Nice, cozy pillows and blankets awaited you. A thought slipped into your mind about being able to sleep beside Freminet one day. To see him tired and peaceful and resting rather than the diffident little sand crab he was normally.

I’m losing my MIND. you lightly smacked your cheeks. But maybe she’s right. I’m not one to throw away my shot!

You rolled over, pulling the covers up over your shoulders, dead set on finding some way to express these emotions.

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

sooo what do we think about theater kid mc? I just wanted to do something different i drew mimi on my computer but its too silly to use for the cover art

doodlebob freminet

Part 2:

[brendaaaa]

You’ll Be N-A-S-A (Will Byers x gender-neutral!Reader)

A/n: Heavily inspired by Ariana Grande’s NASA

You crossed your arms, grouchy and pissed off. You loved Will, sure. Probably more than you loved anyone else. But if he would just give you five minutes...five minutes to yourself, you’d love him a whole lot more.

There was nothing wrong with spending time with your significant other. In fact, that was what made a relationship healthy.

But there was a point where you felt like you needed space. Personal time for yourself. Or maybe a chance to hang out with people other than Will.

You tried to be accommodating. You knew that you were Will’s support anchor, his comfort blanket or whatever, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t live out your own life.

You sighed, glancing at him. He was cuddled up into your side, arms wrapped around your waist. From where you were positioned, you really couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not.

His slow, steady breathing suggested he was snoozing, but then again, He-Man was on TV. It would be extremely out of character for Will to miss that.

Shit. He was so cute all curled up like that. See, this was your recurring issue. You recognized that you and Will needed to set up some boundaries, but whenever you got to the actual talking-about-your-problems, he would do something cute and your whole plan would fall apart.

You gave in to his adorableness for just a minute, brushing his hair out of his face. He looked up at you, smiling. Ah. So he was awake.

You cleared your throat, feeling brave.

“Will?”

“Yes?”

“Uh...can we talk?”

He frowned, and looked back to what was happening on the screen. “After this episode?”

You sighed, grabbing the remote and shutting the TV off.

He scowled at you, “Hey, I was watching that.”

“Sorry,” you rubbed your temples, “I just really need to talk to you.”

“About what?” His eyes locked onto yours, concerned.

“Um..I just think that, I’d rather be alone tonight…” you attempted a feeble smile, trying not to upset him.

His brow furrowed. “So...you won’t stay the night?”

Sleepovers were quite a regular thing between the two of you. Almost every night, in fact. Will slept better with you. That’s partially why you felt so guilty about wanting alone time, if it was at the cost of his sleep.

You shook your head, “It’s not you, I swear to god.”

Will huffed, “Oh lemme guess, then it’s you. Classic, y/n, just classic.”

“No,” you protested. “It’s not either of us. There’s nothing wrong with our relationship!” You bit your tongue after you said that. Way to go, y/n. ‘There’s nothing wrong with our relationship!’ Yeah right.

“Well there is, but...I just, I think I’ll say I love you through the phone tonight?” You said it in a questioning manner, and Will shook his head.

“What did I do?” He pleaded. “Please tell me, I’ll try to change,” he said it so sweetly it made you feel even worse.

“There’s nothing wrong. Not with you, not with me. I just want to be alone.”

His face fell, and he stared rather angrily at the blank tv screen.

“I mean think about,” you said eagerly, trying to find a silver lining for Will to hold onto, “How can i miss you if I’m always with you? Or you know, when I’m missing you, I bet it’ll change the way I kiss you,” You smirked a little, punching him lightly in the arm.

He didn’t respond, just crossed his arms, sulking.

“Will…” you whined. “I’m sorry, I just- I mean, you know what they say...time apart is beneficial!”

He scoffed, “Yeah right. I bet you’re just using all this wanting to be alone stuff as an excuse to dump me.”

Your jaw dropped, “What?? Will- no…”

“Let me finish,” he said sharply. “I know exactly what you’re going to do! You’ll stop hanging out with me, and then, and then,” he gestured wildly with his hands, “when I bring it up, you’ll just say,” he used his fingers to form quotation marks, “we grew apart. Where is this bullshit coming from, y/n?”

You gaped, not believing what you were hearing. This was the exact reason you didn’t want to confront Will about what you were feeling, this is what you had feared would happen.

“Will...just, think of it like this,” you tried one last time, “It’s like I’m the universe and you’ll be NASA,” you said, trying to pull at something he liked, space, to make him understand.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said crossly.

“Sure it does. NASA visits space, the universe, but it’s not like, permanently out in space. Just like us. We’re still dating, but we don’t spend every second together. We get our own time…”

You gave him a moment. He seemed to be processing this, as he watched you carefully.

He inhaled, and you subconsciously crossed your fingers in preparation of what he was going to say next.

“I call bullshit.” He stood up, and you tried to grab his arm, but he shoved you off of him, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

You dropped your head into your hands, groaning. Why couldn’t Will get over the fact that you were just on another page?

{ 1 week later }

You grinned as you adjusted the lens on your camera. Who knew that you would already have a new hobby a mere week after you started spending time on your own?

Your smile fell off of your face as you replayed the conversation in your head.

You kept telling yourself that you and Will were still together, that you weren’t broken up, but Will hadn’t spoken to you since the fall-out. You were beginning to lose hope that he was ever going to call you, or maybe apologize for how he freaked out.

You put your camera down, letting it hang around your neck. As much as you tried to convince yourself that you were fine, a tear slipped down your cheek.

“Hey, y/n!” A familiar voice called out, and you spun around, face to face with Jonathan Byers.

“Oh, hey!” You waved.

“I didn’t know you were into photography,” he pointed to your camera, a smile playing on his face.

“Oh yeah, I only started recently,” you tucked your hair behind your ear. “I just thought I would take some photos of these,” you gestured to the wildflowers growing off the trail.

“That’s a good idea,” he said encouragingly. “Floral photographers are really making a profit around here,” he told you with a wink, “It’s a good field to get into.”

“Oh,” you laughed, “I don’t- I’m not, uh, it’s just a hobby,” you explained.

“Ah,” he nodded. “Well, me too,” he gestured to his bag, which you noticed was perfectly molded to fit a camera.

“Cool…” you said, rather awkwardly now that it seemed you had nothing left to talk about.

He cleared his throat, “Um, I haven’t seen you around as much recently. Everything okay with you and Will?”

You nodded, putting on a smile. He raised an eyebrow, and you looked away.

“Okay, no,” you admitted. “I don’t know what’s up with him.”

Jonathan frowned. “Anything I should talk to him about?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged one shoulder up. “I just, we were spending sooo much time together, I felt like I never got to be alone.”

Jonathan nodded to show he was listening.

“And then when I tried bringing it up to him, he totally freaked out on me. He thought I was trying to break up or something. And now, he’s basically broken up with me,” you said sadly. “I keep waiting for him to call me, but he doesn’t.”

Jonathan made a face, “I’ll talk to him. I know I should probably be taking his side, since I’m his brother and all, but it’s not fair to you. There’s no contract that says you have to spend all your time with Will. He’s probably just paranoid. He gets nervous about this stuff. I’ll talk to him,” Jonathan said firmly.

“Thanks…” you smiled shyly. “But please don’t make him feel bad. I just want him to understand that I still care about him.”

“Will do,” Jonathan said, patting your shoulder. “Good to see you around, y/n.”

{ The next day }

You were tidying up your bedroom when you heard a knock on your window. You hurried over, and looked out to see Will.

It was strange to see him, after such a long period of no contact.

He looked sad and guilty, rather than the angry facade worn by the boy you had seen storming away from you. He looked ready to talk.

You unlocked it, and allowed him to climb in. Benefits of having a ground floor bedroom. No need for dangerous vine-climbing Romeo and Juliet shit.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly once he was in the room. You shoved your hands into your front pockets, watching him directly. He kept his eyes on the floor.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Uh, what’s up?”

He looked up at you for the first time, and you were surprised to see his eyes were glassy and tear-filled.

He rushed into your arms, engulfing you into one of the best hugs you’d ever received.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed into your shoulder, “I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assured, hugging him back, keeping one hand on the back of his head and another on his lower back.

“No it’s not,” he whispered, pulling out of the hug to let your foreheads meet.

“Y/n, I was so stupid. I understand if you want to break up with me for real.”

You frowned, getting a bit emotional yourself, “No, I-,” your voice cracked a little. “I don’t want that.”

“Did Jonathan talk to you?” You asked carefully.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding and in doing so moving your head up and down with him. “I’m such a loser. I can’t believe I was so blind to see that you just wanted a little time for your own.”

You grinned through the tears that were now escaping your own eyes, “So you get it now? I’ll be the universe and you’ll be-“

“NASA,” he finished for you, and pulled you back into a hug.

You smiled over his shoulder. It felt good to be understood now. If you had known that it would only take a little nudge in the right direction from a sibling, you would have talked to Jonathan ages ago.

If you gave Will your whole world, you would need space. But you really did want to give Will your whole world. Now that he was ready to give you the space you needed, everything was good.

Word Count: 1802

[heliads]

How to Move On

Based on this request: “A ghost!Luke Patterson x alive!reader but she is older. Like in the 90s they were but then he died and she got older. An angst story please :)”

masterlist

When he was alive, Luke Patterson lived five houses down from one of the cutest girls he’d ever seen. It still surprises him that he has to tack on that first part to describe anything that happened in his life before, like if he shuts his eyes hard enough he’ll find himself back in the 90s, when he had a pulse and a heartbeat and people could see him if he walked out onto the street.

However, an unseen blade cuts a little too deep whenever he thinks about his current situation, so Luke allows himself to fall deeper into the memory instead of returning back to reality. She’d lived five houses down, right? Or was it four? Luke has hardly been brought back as a ghost for a few weeks before he’s started losing his grasp on the details that bound his life. They’re all slipping through his fingertips, gone now in recollection as well as his ability to return to them in person.

Yes, five houses down- he’s certain of it now. Whenever he wanted to sneak out of his house to go visit her, Luke had to climb out of his window and weave through two backyards before he could risk returning to the sidewalk for another three houses. Five houses down, that’s right. Luke curses himself mentally, not wanting to forget another detail. He’s already lost the girl, he doesn’t want to lose the few figments of her in his memory. A ghost of her for the ghost he already is.

If he managed to sneak out of his house and make it down five houses, as he so often did, Luke could then toss small pebbles at one moonlit window. It usually only took two or three of these interactions before the window would be hurriedly unlatched, a beaming face peering out at him. Luke would allow himself a second of staring, admiring the way the moonlight cast the girl in a bone-white halo, then haul himself up into the room.

From the second his feet touched down on the bedroom floor, Luke would be in safe territory. He still took precautions, of course, keeping his voice down and his movements quiet. However, Y/N L/N always seemed to have a secret oasis in the form of her room, and he was never once caught. They both made sure of it, and if he and Y/N worked together, they could achieve any goal so long as it was worth it.

Y/N L/N. She was the one he’d left behind, one of the aches that hurt the most. He’d been lucky enough to win her love, either through some complete misunderstanding or maybe the fact that he’d finally done something right in his life, but he had her nonetheless. Or, he’d had her until the day he’d died, leaving behind nothing in his wake but grieving parents and the girl he’d sworn to stay with for the rest of his life. Well, his promise had come true in one sense, although Luke can’t help but wish there was another way around it.

To be completely honest, even as Luke dreads forgetting any detail of his past girl, he might fear thinking about her even more. It’s not that he wants to lose the picture of her smile in his head, or the way she’d reach for him when she was cold, it’s just that to think of her in any sense is like a knife stabbing him through the ribs, reminding him that he’ll never get her back. If he tries to push her from his mind, he won’t remember the way she’ll never be with him again. Isn’t that better?

Luke already knows the answer: no, not at all. Even this one slip in his memory, the faltering knowledge of how far apart their houses were, sends a jolt of worry spiking through him. Luke wouldn’t consider himself forgetful, maybe just a little absentminded, but the fact that he’s already starting to forget his past life worries him. However, to keep Y/N’s picture cherished in his mind means reminding himself of everything that he’d lost, of finally confronting all the memories he’s been holding back for so long.

Eventually, Luke finds himself in the studio, searching through the boxes and crates of stuff that had eventually made its way into dusty corners and spiderwebbed cracks of the room. Julie’s mom had been kind enough to keep at least some of Sunset Curve’s possessions, and so Luke ransacks these sparse belongings now. At last, his hand emerges triumphant, carrying with it an old photo album. It’s thin, spine scarcely thicker than a small paperback, but for the way he looks at it its pages could be lined with gold.

Luke pauses a second, steeling himself before flipping open the front cover. Instantly, he’s hit with a wave of memories. These first few photos had been taken a year or so before he died, when he had first started dating Y/N and everything seemed like he was living a dream. There are Polaroids from their first few dates, snapshots of festivals and boardwalks and everything a couple of teenagers could afford when they were young and stupidly in love.

Luke studies these, then the next couple of pages, and then the next. He must have been more distracted than he’d first thought, because he doesn’t notice Julie Molina enter the studio until she’s practically standing on top of him. Julie clears his throat, and he startles, doing his best to quickly close the album. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite right to so openly share his memories of Y/N to anyone within eyesight.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Are we practicing?” Luke asks. Julie laughs, her smile a tad incredulous. “Not yet, but I’m a little worried as to why you were so quick to hide that book. What, are you trying to keep secrets from me?” Her eyes assure him that this question is purely an excuse to tease him, but Luke can’t find it within himself to smile back. Instead, he sits back down on the floor of the studio, gesturing listlessly to the empty space next to him.

“Not entirely. It’s just- well, I found this old photo album, and it’s kind of hard to not regret leaving everything behind. The current day is good, don’t get me wrong, and I love the band, but-” Julie picks up on his train of thought even as Luke’s voice trails off. “It’s not what you’re used to, and you feel bad about everything you could have had. I get it. I’m surprised you’ve adjusted so well, to be honest. It can’t be easy to leave your entire life behind.”

Luke lets out a quiet sigh. “Exactly.” After a moment’s consideration, he picks up the photo album again, opening the cover and passing it to Julie. She accepts it, glancing at him one last time to make sure he’s alright with baring his soul to her. A soft smile traces its way onto her face as she sees the photos of him and Y/N, grins so bright they could practically light up the world. “Who is this?”

Her finger lingers over a photo Luke had taken of Y/N. She had been wearing a Sunset Curve shirt, one of their first attempts at a logo. They’d long since changed the design, but she had said something about how her boys were so official and taken the first draft t-shirt nonetheless. Y/N had worn it to many shows since then, until the design faded into nothingness and she’d been forced to get a new one. Luke’s voice softens. “That’s Y/N. She is- she was my girlfriend. Back in the 90s, at least.”

Luke hates the way he has to say that, like she’s died instead of him. She was his girlfriend, they had known each other, they are each utterly different now and there is no getting back what they’d once had. Julie glances over at him, sympathy radiating from her gaze, but then she turns back to the photo, frowning over it in something that almost looks like recognition. “Wait, you said her name was Y/N? Like Y/N L/N?”

Luke sits bolt upright, melancholy thoughts completely forgotten. “Yes! How did you know that? Do you know her?” Julie’s excitement starts to bleed away from her, as if she knows something that ruins the dream she had been so thrilled to share. “Well, yes, but she’s not Y/N L/N anymore. She has a different last name now.” Luke picks up on what Julie is unwilling to say, and his stomach sinks a little. She has a different last name because she’s married, because she’s moved on.

Even as he thinks this, Luke feels annoyed at himself. Of course she’s moved on- he died 25 years ago. There’s no reason she would never love again, and even if she did, Luke would never want that for her. She was so bright, so happy, that the thought of herself locked away in mournful grief like his parents seems so utterly wrong that if that happened she might as well have died with him. Still, Luke doesn’t like thinking that there’s someone else out there receiving her smiles, hearing her hopes and dreams late at night the way he had once listened to her.

Luke must have gone silent for too long, because Julie is looking over at him again, pity written in every line of her face. She thinks for a second longer, then stands up, holding out her hand to him. “She still lives near here, actually. A few streets down. Do you want to go see her?” Luke stares at her, then rushes to his feet. “You mean it? You know where she is?” Julie nods. “Only if you’re willing to see her.” She’s right to worry- seeing Y/N again will mean finally coming to terms with everything Luke had left behind when he’d died, a final piece of proof that Y/N will never be his again. Still, if he hides away from her again, Luke will spend the rest of his ghosthood wondering what she might have been like and who she may have become. So, he nods, and allows Julie to lead him from the studio and down the blocks to Y/N’s house.

Even without Julie’s directions, Luke would know their destination even before she points out Y/N’s front door. He sees her in every corner of the building, every flower and tree planted in the yard. She’d always wanted a brightly painted front door, tall trees in the backyard so she could have a little shade on the summer days. They’d once planned what their future houses would look like, always choosing one for the two of them. If Luke sees traces of his ideas in her house now, does that mean Y/N still thinks of him? Or that she’s already forgotten that it was his voice suggesting those changes and not her own, that he’s already faded into the last few corners of her memory?

His feet stall in the driveway, but at an encouraging look from Julie, Luke forces himself to walk up the final few feet to stop in front of the front door. He reaches forward and rings the doorbell himself, although he can do no more once the door swings open. This will be Julie’s part- Luke can do no more than watch the woman in front of him with wide eyes.

She still looks like her. Is that a strange thing to say? She’s taller now, her face more lined and weary as if she’s had a lifetime of problems to deal with ever since Luke left her days. It makes sense that she looks older- the last time Luke saw her was 25 years ago, so she’s probably in her forties now. Still, there are traces of the girl he’d known in every movement, every step. When she looks questioningly at Julie, Luke can see the way she’d looked at him to ask when and where Sunset Curve would be performing so she could make sure to arrive on time. The gesture is so truthfully her that it practically hurts to see.

Julie’s eyes dart to Luke, as if trying to gauge his reaction, then she focuses her gaze firmly on Y/N. “I, uh, was cleaning out my mom’s old studio. I found something from the band who used to practice there- they went by the name of Sunset Curve? Your name was on one of the photos.” It’s a duplicate photo strip from a photo booth on a long-since demolished boardwalk, an excuse for the visit. Still, it’s enough to make Y/N’s eyes widen, and she looks at Julie as if she’s punched a hole right through her chest.

She gestures for Julie to follow her inside. Luke drifts in after them, staring at the photos lining the walls, the backpacks flung in a corner of the room. So she has children, a family. How long had it taken her to move on from him? She smiles in every family portrait he sees, but did she ever think about the boy she’d left behind? Would it matter that much to him if she did?

Julie hands Y/N the photo strip now, and tears glisten in the woman’s eyes as she looks at herself and Luke, decades younger and what feels like centuries happier. Julie, thank everything, is unwilling to let Y/N leave without asking her about the boy she’d left behind. “Did you know him well? The boy in the photos?” Y/N glances up sharply at Julie, startling as if she’d forgotten there was a girl in front of her, too drowned in the memories of the past to remember reality. It’s a familiar feeling to Luke, and it stings to see it on this older Y/N too.

“Yes, I did. Very well, in fact. I loved him with all of my heart until he died along with his bandmates.” She laughs quietly, the sound broken through with utter misery. It twists Luke’s heart like a blade. “I almost didn’t make it through the funeral. I was sitting next to his parents, and we were sobbing like we’d never smile again. He was everything to me, and I had no idea what to do when he was gone. I wish you could have met him- he was always so quick to a smile or a laugh. I never told him how much I liked his smile. I wish I had.”

Luke stumbles as if he’s been punched. Tears are pricking at his eyes, and he swipes at them angrily with his shirt sleeve. Why should he have to cry now, mourn everything he’d lost? Hasn’t he been through enough? Y/N swallows harshly. “It’s easy to get lost in the past. I graduated high school without him, went to college without him. I didn’t think I’d ever have to live a day without him, and suddenly I had an entire future completely empty of anyone like him. There are days when I almost think I see him in a crowd, and days when it gets easier. In the end, I think he’d want me to move forward, even as hard as that may be.”

Julie glances over at Luke once more, scarcely a second away from tears herself. “Yeah, I think he’d want you to be happy. That above all else.” Y/N sighs, the sound cutting through Luke and almost sending him to the floor. “Thank you for the photos, Julie. You take care of yourself.” Julie smiles. “I will. Thank you too.” Luke, sensing the imminent goodbye, takes one last furtive glance around the house. What if he had been there, present in every family photo and every line in her journals? He wishes nothing more than to have that option, to be able to go back, but he can’t.

So, he allows himself to follow Julie back out into the sunshine of the afternoon, and when the door closes softly behind him, he doesn’t look back. Julie is silent on the walk back, as is he. Luke heads for the studio, and he stops before the photo album before glancing up at the walls around him. If he tries hard enough, Luke thinks he can see her in every corner of the studio. There she is on the couch, laughing as she pretends to smack him with a pillow. There she is next to him on the piano, listening to his latest song. There are hundreds of her in the studio, hundreds of memories. That’s all he has left of her. Just memories and nothing more.

Julie returns to find him later, and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to cut across the room, landing on the photo newly pinned to the wall. There are two figures in it, a boy and a girl grinning madly as they reach for each other in a dusky night. Both of them are long gone now, dead and aged even as their photo-selves smile on. If Luke looks back at the photo now, keeping that image burned into his mind, he never speaks of it again.

requested by @charliegillespiewife​

jatp tag list: someone who i would not leave behind if i died in the 90s @underc0vercryptid​

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt AU: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

PART 6: Age 18 

“California is pretty far away,” Percy says softly into the night as Annabeth lays on the rooftop by his side. He hears her shift so that she can look at him, and he mirrors her, looking at his reflection in her pale eyes. 

“2914.9 miles,” she answers. 

“You really had to choose the farthest college from me didn’t you?”

Annabeth snorts and shakes her head. 

“Yes Percy, I chose it purely because it’s the furthest from you in particular.” He pouts and pushes himself up on an elbow so he can look down at her. 

“Why are you leaving me?”

“I’m not just leaving you Perce, I’m leaving everyone else as well. My Dad, my brothers, Thals, Grover...not just you.” Her face shifts and he sees sadness replace her joking smirk. 

“Yeah but I’m special...I’m your favourite.” Percy is half-joking but he wishes with all his heart that the first part of his sentence is true, that he is in fact special to Annabeth. Special in the same way that Annabeth is special to him. 

“Don’t let Thals hear that,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes but Percy leans in closer, poking her repeatedly until she’s laughing. 

“You’re only saying that because it’s true.”

“Shut up.” Percy notices how she doesn’t deny it and it brings a smile to his face. 

 “I’m going to miss you.” His heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze as his voice softens and his smile drops. Annabeth gives him a sad look and pokes his chest trying to get him to look at her properly. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now Seaweed Brain, we’ve still got summer.”

“And then you leave and forget me, and find a cool Perry Johnson to be your new best friend.” He says and dramatically throws his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like he’s about to faint. 

Annabeth groans and pushes him away so he falls back on the blanket they’ve laid out. The other two aren’t due to arrive for another hour, but Percy has been spending so much time at Annabeth’s house already, that it made no sense to go back to his last night, so he stayed over and helped set up the apartment rooftop for their sleepover under the stars. 

He thinks they’ve done a pretty good job for the two of them, there’s an array of pillows, blankets and sheets all over the floor, and plenty of snacks to last them through the night. A couple of years ago, way back when they were younger, Mr Chase set up fairy lights along the edge of the roof, so they’re not in complete darkness, not that New York can ever be truly dark. The lights illuminate Annabeth’s features as Percy turns his head to her, she looks like a goddess and Percy swallows deeply when she returns his stare. 

“What are you looking at?”

Percy shrugs and sits up so he can rearrange snacks that don’t need rearranging to hide his blush at being caught. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot! Can you sign this, you never did?” Annabeth says changing the subject and tugs on his arm so he can come back and sit with her. 

He looks at her confused until she brings out her yearbook. Their school emblem shines on the front cover, and she places it in his lap, pressing herself to his side, so she can flip the pages, looking for an empty space to write. On the back, there’s an entire blank page and she smooths the paper down and hands him a marker. 

“All yours.” She says and watches him expectantly. 

“Are you going to watch me write in it?” He twirls the pen uneasily and rubs the back of his neck, slightly uncomfortable under her intense gaze. 

Annabeth huffs. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“Can you?” He asks half-jokingly. 

“You’re such an idiot. Fine. I’ll go check if there’s anything we forgot downstairs. Do you want anything?” He grins as she shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed. 

“Anything blue.”

“Of course,” she mutters and gets up, using his shoulder to steady herself. He leans into the touch and tries to ignore the way his body misses her warmth when she leaves.  

When she leaves Percy flips back to the front, reliving their senior year, one page at a time. He skips past the photos of the people in his grade and goes straight to the events. It starts with homecoming, and there’s a photo of Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Thalia all dressed in black suits. Percy smiles fondly at the close-up photo of Thalia and Annabeth posing together, in matching suits and corsets. Since Thalia broke up with Luke, she’s reintegrated back into the group with no issue, and it’s like she never left. 

He turns the page, skipping through the other homecoming photos, and pauses at the one of him and Annabeth. It’s a candid, and even though he’s already seen it, his heart still stutters, because in the photo she’s fixing his hair in the photo right before the official photos like she always does, and Percy can’t help but think about how much they look like a couple. 

He keeps turning through the pages, trying to find more photos of their group. They’re not a very social group, preferring to hang out with each other than go to school events, but they’re at all the major ones. 

There are small snippets of them at the football games, student fairs and pep rallies, it’s not till the end where there are photos that focus more on students not part of clubs that he sees more pictures of his friends. 

There’s one of them all laying on their back enjoying the sun looking up at clouds the way they used to when they were kids (completely unaware that someone is taking photos of them). There’s even a photo of Grover with Thalia on his shoulder as she tries to climb a tree with toilet paper in her hand from prank day. The next one is a blurry photo of Percy completely wrapped in toilet paper and chasing Annabeth. 

Moments from their senior year have been captured and immortalised in these pages, and Percy’s heart heaves at the thought of leaving this all behind or watching people leave. 

Tears start to prick at his eyes as he reaches the graduation and prom photos. There’s a huge shot of his entire grade, a choice of a few students throwing their caps up. In the corner on the page before the prom photos, there's a small snapshot of the four of them, their arms thrown around each other, heads pressed together. He remembers this moment vividly. All of their names are relatively close together in the roll, so as soon as they were announced, he had bolted straight to Grover, who had bolted to Thalia, who had bolted to Annabeth, and they had all ended up screaming and jumping into each other's arms. 

He’s going to miss this. 

He finally comes to the prom photos, and he’s not surprised when his breath catches in his throat when he sees Annabeth in her prom dress again. It’s a deep blue, the colour of the sky above his head, and it makes his stomach flutter each time he sees it. In the photo, she’s posing with Thalia again, but she’s mid-laugh and Percy would be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourite photos of her. He has copies of photos from the night on his computer, but the ones taken at the venue are better quality, it’s almost like he’s back there in the moment. 

Thalia had come with a date, once again wearing a tight-fitting suit, a girl on her arm and Grover had brought Juniper, his girlfriend. Percy and Annabeth had agreed to go together, just because it was easier. 

“Platonically,” he remembers telling Grover. He remembers Grover laughing and shaking his head. 

“There is nothing platonic about you two but okay. Have fun, Perce.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grover had never explained what he meant and it still haunted Percy. 

There isn’t a photo of the two of them at prom together, at least not in the yearbook, but he asked for a favour from a friend in the yearbook committee and has the photos that didn’t make it on a USB drive back home. His favourite is his wallpaper, and it’s of him and Annabeth dancing their heads bent close together. It’s not obvious it’s them two but he can recognise her blonde hair anywhere. That’s another moment he holds close, them dancing and swaying to a song they don’t recognise, whispering to each other in the night. He’d almost told her that night. Told her everything, about what he felt, about how he would always feel, but when she let go, he realised that he didn’t want to risk losing what they had. It was too precious to him. 

Percy finally reaches the page that Annabeth initially brought him to and he uncaps the pen, tapping the back of it against the page a couple of times trying to think of a message. It’s not an accident that he didn’t write in Annabeth’s yearbook. When they were all doing it, Percy had purposefully avoided her because he knew that what he had to say to her couldn’t be said like this. 

He sighs as he begins a doodle instead. A little owl because he knows that they’re her favourite, and a dolphin because they’re his. His mind is still blank at what to write to her, but he knows she’s not going to let him get away with not doing it this time. 

He hears footsteps coming up the staircase and he writes the first thing that comes to his mind. The only thing that never leaves his mind when he’s around Annabeth. It’s not a long message so he’s finishing it just as Annabeth sits back down. He slams the book shut and chucks it behind him so that she can’t immediately read it. She notices and raises an eyebrow. 

“Read it later. It’s embarrassing,” he says sheepishly. She laughs and hands him a bag of sour blue candy stripes. He tears open the package and starts eating as he hears other footsteps. Grover and Thalia appear in the doorway, holding pillows and even more bags of snacks. 

“Let’s get this party started!” Thalia exclaims and drops her stuff unceremoniously on top of Percy, burying him under the wright. Everyone laughs at him as he sputters his way out. 

Thalia plugs in some music and Annabeth helps pull Percy to his feet, and they start the feast of snacks. Grover helps Percy set up a projector for their movie and it’s nearing midnight when they finally settle on Disney’s Hercules. 

As always Grover falls asleep halfway through the movie, murmuring about how his tummy hurts in his sleep. They take group selfies with him, and Percy grabs the marker next to Annabeth’s yearbook so that he can draw on Grover’s face. He’s holding back giggles with Thalia as they pose next to him and Annabeth takes a photo of them. 

He pulls both girls close to him when he falls back and squeezes their shoulders. 

“I can’t believe my favourite girls are leaving me to deal with this idiot,” he says and nods to Grover who has started snoring. Thalia scoffs and pushes his face so that he lets go of her. He gives in but doesn’t take his arm off Annabeth, and he swears that Annabeth cuddles just a bit closer to him. 

“We’re not dying, Percy, we’re just moving to the West Coast,” Thalia says as she opens a can of coke and Percy briefly remembers how he first met Annabeth and how she had protected him from Nancy. He exchanges a look with her and sees that she’s already smiling at him, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. 

“Betrayal. That’s what this is,” he says and squeezes Annabeth’s shoulder again. She threads their hands together and Percy tries not to react and turn to her again. 

Thalia catches his eye and smirks at their interlocked hands. 

She stands up and brushes her pants. 

“I need to go pee, do you two need anything from downstairs?” 

They both shake their heads and she nods before carefully stepping over a sleeping Grover and leaves the two of them. 

Percy and Annabeth stay like that, leaning on each other, hands interlocked and Percy wishes he could freeze this exact moment. 

“Did you write something?” Annabeth asks softly as she pulls away from him, but doesn’t let go of his hand. Percy nods tightly and she smiles as she reaches across from him and grabs the yearbook from their makeshift table. She skips straight to the back and opens to his page. She gave him an entire page to write on, but there’s only one sentence in the middle and two small doodles. She stares at it for a moment, rereading it before she looks up. 

“You’re my number one,” Annabeth reads, holding the yearbook open at his page, “What does that mean?”

Percy swallows, suddenly terrified. There’s no time like now to tell her, and he has no real doubts about loving her, but with her unflinching gaze on him like this, it’s hard not to be nervous. He tries not to overthink and takes a deep breath, speaking the truth that he’s kept under wraps for years. 

“There’s only one meaning, Wise Girl, what else could it mean?” He says with a shrug and reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “My Mom once said that people who have a big heart have a lot of love in them to share, but they’ll always have their number one, and that’s you. That’s been you for years, my entire life probably.”

He takes another breath and waits for Annabeth to respond. When she doesn’t he continues, suddenly full of words. “You’re the one for me. The only one that I could ever want. The one I put before everything. You’re my-”

“Do you mean that?” Her face is full of doubt and Percy brings their joined hands up so he can press his lips to the back of her hand. 

“Of course,” he breathes, and pulls her closer. He’s barely breathing when she puts the yearbook down for a moment. They stay frozen like that, pressed against each other, foreheads touching and breath mingling.  

“I think I was made for loving you,” he whispers and carefully pushes her hair back. 

The smile she gives him is one to rival the sun that is going to rise in a few hours. 

“If that’s so, then I was made for loving you just as much.”

She kisses him, and he almost forgets his name. He brings his hands up to cup face and bring her closer and she smiles against his lips and-

“Seriously? You two couldn’t wait until after I was asleep. Jeez.” 

Annabeth jerks away from him and they both stare at Thalia who is giving them a tired look from the rooftop doorway. Percy can’t help it and starts laughing, shortly after Annabeth joins and falls onto his chest, laughing too hard to keep herself up. Eventually, Thalia sits back down and bites her lip trying not to laugh, but the more she tries to keep it in the funnier it gets. 

By then all three of them are laughing so hard their stomach hurts and Grover stirs awake. 

“What’s going on?”

“This,” Annabeth says and proudly holds up her hand that is still firmly clasped in Percy’s hand. 

Grover blinks sleepily at it and shrugs like it’s not a big deal. 

“About freaking time,” he says and lays back down. 

Percy and Annabeth look at each other again and he smiles at her before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her mouth. 

“It was worth the wait.” 

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

[hoodieofholland]

Can u write a tickling war with best-friend!tom. Maybe Haz records them and post on insta so fans start to ship them ? ❤️

A/n: added some context first, got this idea and couldn't help but write it, hope you dont mind :)

Friends to lovers au - Actor!tom x best friend!reader

Warnings: none, just fluffy stuff

Masterlist

"Have anything planned for the evening, love?"

You hear Tom calling for you, but decide to keep reading the book on your hands nonetheless, not daring to avert your gaze to his face. Keeping a stoic face, you read through the lines of your book, though you're not really paying any attention to it. You just wanted to teach your best friend a lesson.

"Y/n? You here?" He chuckles nervously, trying to ease the thick air of tension he brought to himself. You were mad at Tom since last night, when he admitted he watched a movie with a girl, his date - a movie that both of you were excited to watch.

You shouldn't be so mad at it, you thought to yourself, but you were. Tom was your best friend, and you wanted all the best things for him, but that didn't mean putting any other girl above you. Knowing that he spent a precious time - which is pretty scarse for him because of his job - with another woman, watching your favorite movie together, drove you mad.

And, obviously, it did have something to do with your little crush on him, but you'd never - ever - admit this part.

"Y/n, darling, won't you talk to me?", he sighed, taking a seat on the couch besides you. You're taking most of its space, but he doesn't mind, touching your ankle ever so softly.

"I'm not your darling, for what I recall", you say in a cold and empty voice, flipping a page on your book.

Tom sighs heavily. He knows it's not true, but he feels hurt anyways. "Well, at least you're not giving me the silence treatment", he mumbles to himself, under his breathe. You look at him through your lashes, face still down.

"I would, if I wanted to", you flip through another page, "But came to the conclusion that it's not worth my time nor energy".

Tom grimaces, knowing you were joking, but not liking your tone. "Y/n, love, I've told you I'm sorry, okay? It won't happen again".

His pleading voice touches your insides, and you squirm on your seat. Once you make the mistake of looking to his face, into those beautiful puppy brown eyes, you sigh in defeat, closing your book and putting it aside.

"It better not, Holland", you cross your arms. Tom wrinkles his nose.

"Don't call me that"

"Well, since you're in redemption, I think I might call you whatever the shit I want", you say, shrugging.

Tom opens his mouth in chock, but doesn't argument. "So, we're fine again?"

You pout, a fake deep in thoughts expression, before saying, "We'll see about that. For now, I rather be on my own company and maybe watch some of my favorite movies alone. Or maybe I should invite Haz"

Tom narrows his eyes. "Your favorite movies are my favorite movies", he says as a matter of fact.

"Yes, that's correct", you give him a victory smile and then get up from the sofa. "So, I'll be back in-"

Before you can finish your sentence or moves, a yelp scapes your throat by the surprise when Tom grabs your hips and pull you back to the sofa, your back landing on it not so softly.

"What the fu-"

"You're not gonna do it, y/n", Tom says, taking hold of your wrists and pinning both of your hands above your head. And though he was so talented on what he did for a living, you couldn't say he was playing the greatest role now, pretending to be stern and mad while hovering his body over yours. In fact, you could see his playful smirk on the corner of his thin lips. "'Cause now you're held against your will. And if you wanna watch those movies so bad, you're gonna take my company, you liking it or not".

"Unfair. You take another girl to watch what I wanted to, but I can't invite Haz, my incredibly friendly best friend?", you tease, wiggling your brows, but Tom's smile drops.

"He's not your best friend", Tom states, the grip on your wrists getting a little tighter.

"From now on, I decided that this is him".

Tom's face assumes an expression of doubt, just to fade to a smug one once again. "You're just jealous".

You arch your brows, incredulous. His breathing is so close to your face right now that you can sense your closeness, and if you're not imagining this yourself, it was very possible that the both of you touched each other's lips right now.

"Jealous of what?", you swallow thickly, eyes averting to his lips on them on. You can see his smirk growing immediately.

"Well, darling...", he emphasized, his accent thick enough to send shivers down your spine. "You're jealous of my date".

"Only on your imagination, Thomas", you split too quickly, which didn't make it any easier to swipe off that smugness on his face. If anything, it just made the whole situation worse.

"It's clear as water to me", he leans in, a wide smile plastered on his face, making his eyes wrinkle. The air seems to be stuck on your throat as he does so, and your heart scapes a beat when he gives you a sweet kiss on your cheek. "But you don't have to, sweetheart. You're the only girl I wanna around".

You know you shouldn't take this to the heart, but it's not up to you the tight feeling on your chest when you hear these words. You try yo convince yourself that he only says it as a friend, but something in his eyes, in the way he speaks those words with so much meaning slipping out of his lips, makes you imagine that wanted to share something else with you.

You sigh, feeling your walls break down. Tom was a charmer, you knew it already, but the way he spook with you, the sweetness of his words were beyond this part of his personality.

"You sound convincing", you try to say playfully, but you don't smile and stare directly into his eyes. He does the same.

"Because it's true", Tom tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, avoiding your eyes as he loses himself in his thoughts. "Yesterday, I realized that I was looking for something that I already have. Isn't it dumb?", he looks at you with a kind yet insecure smile. You give it back.

"Well, it doesn't surprise me". You heartbeat is so quick that you can bet he can listen to it, for the proximity. He's so pretty. You want to tell him that you feel like this, that you couldn't chase whatever you and Tom had, that this part of your life felt complete.

But the moment you part your lips to say so, Tom's smile widens and he releases your wrists just to take his hands to your belly. "You sure about that, love? Wanna take it back?", he says, a devilish smile playing on his face.

"Never"

"You asked for it, y/n", and then it all started. Tom started to tickle your belly, just on your weak point, where he knew you were more sensitive at. You quickly loose your air, gasping and laughing at the same time as he works his fingers on your skin.

"Oh, my God, Tom, stop!", you yell, rolling to the sides as you try to kick him away from you. Tom laughs' fill the air around you, and it's the most beautiful sound of your day.

"Make me, darling"

You fight with all your strength (and part of you believe he left his body loosen a bit, so you could have any chance to turn the game over). Finally, you're able to throw your body towards his and have him laying on the couch instead, your body over his as you tickle his neck, holding him im place by lacing his lower half with your legs.

"Not so funny, uh?" You tease, watching as his body squirms under you. You laugh along him, but it's not much time until he starts to tickle you back.

"What the hell you guys doing? Can hear you from across the-" Haz enters the living room, stopping in his tracks as soon as he catches the sight of his two friends in a tickling war. He chuckles silently, amused by the way you looked like a lovely couple already.

He knew about Tom's crush on you, and even though you'd never verbalize it, he had an idea about yours too. He sigh contentedly, a peaceful smile on his face, leaning against the door frame. The two of you don't even notice the moment he grabs his phone and point the camera at you, recording the scene.

Tom suddenly flip the two of you, propping himself on his elbows over you. "Say you're sorry", he demands out loud, still managing to tickle you.

"I- I have nothing- to be sorry abou-" you can't even speak an entire sentence, out of breath as you fight to win the battle. "You the one in redemption!"

Haz has to hold back his laughter. What two love birds.

He stops the filming when the two of you seem tired enough and are about to give up the tickling war. Making his way back discreetly, he opens his Instagram app and post the video as a Stories.

After the fight, reconciliation

Laughing to himself, he shakes his head and post.

Haz didn't know it by the time he posted the video, but by the end of that day, the internet would be overwhelmed with so many messages shipping you and Tom, who couldn't avoid the obvious fact that both of you were in love with each other anymore.

[supremeinlilac]

Hurt me once

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Hurt me once- Ben Platt, also there will be a Mina one too :))

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cheating, lying, basically Billie is how I imagine some celebrities in reality tv to be like, so soz.

Maybe you were reading into it too much. Since Billie had started dating you, you’d wanted to pull away from working for her and get your own job on the pretence that you could never be equal if you worked as her assistant day in and day out. You supposed you’d brought it upon yourself.

She still needed an assistant. Her job was demanding and stressful so of course she’d rehire. You’d been naïve to think any differently.

“No one can replace you.” She’d purred when you’d admitted to wanting to quit. Assuring that you’d been her best help to date.

She was lying.

You’d tried to remain focus in work but Billie Dean Howard had this addicting aura about her person and you couldn’t help but become distracted. Especially when she’d aim flirty remarks and winks with pinpoint precision at you. Like a lamb to slaughter you were set up to fail.

She’d taken you to watch a drive in movie for your first date. Huddled together under blankets on the plush of her backseat. It had been an action, the name escapes you now; but at the time you’d been far more aware of the way the light from the screen caught against her skin instead of the actual film.

The way she’d catch you staring and the signature cocky grin would form, tongue poking into her cheek as she pulled you closer. Under the stars that night you’d felt her lips for the first time, the moon a perfect witness. Stark and full above you, beaming down in chords of silvery light.

Naturally, it became routine for the moon to bare witness to such moments. For you both to come together under the pale light and either dance or watch another movie. The moon was hers, delicately and wholly and irrevocably hers.

You can’t look at the moon now without feeling the need to howl at it like a wolf does. For the moon had stolen Billie from you. The moon was no longer a thing you shared alone.

Billie took her new assistant to a drive in theatre.

It rained. The sky cried and protested like a petulant child because it should have been you. It should have been you there, huddled together under blankets on the plush of her backseat. Instead of throwing a tantrum, you told yourself that she was just being kind. Billie Dean was kind. Annoyingly so, in this case.

You told yourself that she didn’t realise that doing that was your thing, something that you did together. It was special. A rare pearl lodged in the mouth of a clam, the gem that you were lucky to have had. Had. Had you lost it, was its touch fleeting? Inevitably drawn back after being loaned so cruelly?

You started to notice the little ways Billie was pulling away. At least, you thought she was pulling away. Little landmines that were buried under your feet, growing and ticking dangerously, waiting for you to lose balance and fall. Triggering them. A looming explosion.

Billie would eat with her production team after long scheduled days of filming, she’d message you fleetingly with wordless apologies for her absence, and slip into bed after you slept. She never saw the tears that would stain the skin of your cheeks. At least you hoped she didn’t notice them, because she never mentioned it, and you’d prefer her to be ignorant to it than to ignore your pain.

She’d started to take her phone calls on the porch, leaving the dinner table with only a motion to the ringing to say where she was going. She’d mouth that she’d be back in a minute but you’d always have to reheat her food. Eating alone with the silhouette of your lover in the window had become the regular, leaving an uneasy feeling in your gut which you couldn’t seem to shake.

It seemed like you’d forgotten how to read her face.

No. You’d always been able to sense her mood by the twitch of a lip or the furrow of a brow, could know what she was thinking without even having to try.

It struck you that maybe that was only the case because she was letting you, an open book, the tells of her mood bright against the curves of her face. The book was no longer open, fragile pages torn in an attempt to hide the contents. The library of Billie Dean’s emotions padlocked and closed to you.

At the back of your mind however, you knew that you could still read her like you always had been able to. A feeble attempt to disguise the fact that you could see the words strewn carefully across the page, so clearly in front of you. But you don’t like what you read, instead feigning oblivion rather than face the truth.

It was red to love Billie Dean.

Passionate and fuelled, excitement sparking your muscles involuntarily. It was hot, blushed faces between silken sheets. The feeling one gets as the rollercoaster reaches its peak, and hovers just over the edge, dipping so you can see the fall. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a moment you feel like you might live forever, stay in this moment and this safety with Billie.

But a moment doesn’t last forever.

And then it’s dropping. Falling, falling. You reach out to grasp for something sturdy but fingers only close around the fragments of memories that you’re losing. Moments you won’t experience again. And your breath draws in a way that is painful, burning down to your lungs. Red. Fire. Dangerous.

For it was dangerous to love Billie Dean.

You knew it all too well.

You’d read the suggestive articles about the mysterious, nameless new girl that clung to Billie’s arm, sheltered by the umbrella she’d once used to protect you from the rain.

Now, you’d dance fearlessly under it with closed eyes and a head tilted to the sky. Welcoming the rain from your apologetic moon. For your moon was panoptic, it saw your pain and her infidelity, sending shards of silver regret.

You wanted the looming explosion to be destructive. To be angry and snapping and make her understand that she’d hurt you with inexistent loyalty when yours had been unwavering.

But the explosion wasn’t big. It wasn’t sudden and angry, a dog snarling and baring steak knives for teeth, loud and frothing at the mouth. Looking back you wished it had been, it would have been easier to hate her, to blame her.

Hating Billie Dean Howard was impossible. Even the people with the least humility would sooner blame themselves, sinking and struggling beneath the waves themselves lest have Billie drown.

You found yourself drawing back into yourself, a child curled into itself in the corner, a small animal frantic to take up the least space possible. You shrunk, imploding instead of exploding. Crippling hatred gnawed at your skin, vultures picking your body clean and leaving it to rot in the burning sun.

Doubt crushes your ribs to ash, filling your lungs and mixing with blood to a paste no amount of coughing will clear. It was deep and bruising, and you knew that not even Billie’s empty reassurance wouldn’t settle the ache.

The night you confronted Billie played in your mind like a broken cassette, looping the scene, a single jumping moment on display endlessly.

You’d been crying. Billie hadn’t turned up for the dinner you’d made for your anniversary, well she’d showed, hours later and stumbling through the door. She’d been drinking and the curve of her lips was smudged with a crimson lipstick under the moonlight.

Your moonlight.

You couldn’t remember a time when Billie Dean had worn red lipstick. Hooker lipstick, as she’d once said. The fact only made the tears run anew.

Her intoxication made it easier. Perhaps you’d be able to vent and cry and confess to her and she wouldn’t remember come the morning. The spirits in the walls would remind her though, whispers and taunts in sobriety.

You wanted to be big and angry, pushing back against her when her actions cut you, hurting and scarring her back. But you were kinder than her. Billie was kind but she had nothing on you.

You’d stood, bags packed in a pile by the door, and she’d sat. You’d cried, and she didn’t. She didn’t even speak until you made to leave, didn’t move until it was to cling onto your wrists in a frantic effort to keep you.

“Did you sleep with her?” You found yourself asking without even registering your words. You hadn’t planned on being so direct.

“Y/n, listen to me. I-”

“Did you, sleep with her?” Ignoring her, you spoke. Slower, punctuating and almost spitting your words at her, as if keeping them against your tongue would do more damage.

“Once, yes. But she’s not you.” Billie said, slender fingers reaching to pull at the pearls around her neck, instead of reaching to you.

You found yourself backing away again, struck anew at her final admission. Somehow it hurt more to hear her confirm what you already knew to be true. Like when you know someone to be dying, yet it only really hits you when they’re gone. When it’s too late to change anything.

“I don’t know why I did it, I just-” her voice trailed off, hands hitting out at nothing. Slumping onto the sofa, you mirrored her movement, perching yourself tentatively on the arm of the coach.

Your eyes flitted from her form to the door, the escape should you need it. Should youchoose it.

“You did it because you could, Billie.” You breathed, knuckles pressing at your temple to ease an impending migraine. Fighting with Billie always gave you a headache, it was a headache to get your point across when she’d ceased to listen. “I mean I get it, it’s exciting. Young girls like me, fawning. You feel, I don’t know? Appreciated, flattered?”

You knew that it was commonplace among celebrities like Billie, to chain date young girls who fed into their egos and made them feel young. Billie didn’t speak for a while, head in her hands and knees knocking together while you forced yourself to not watch her, eyes fixing instead on the way the curtains sways slightly with the open window. Even the curtains ached to free themselves.

“Look. I’m sorry, I swear.” Her voice thawed, defensiveness gone and replaced with a vulnerability she rarely let herself show. You wrung your hands in your lap and stared at the way they whitened with pressure. Your lungs felt like that, blood pressed out with the crushing doubt, a band wrapped around your ribs. You almost reached a hand up to your chest to help you breathe.

She stood, reaching into the cabinet drawer and retrieving a packet of cigarettes and flicking one between her fingers. She didn’t light it. What would be the point of creating more of a separating fog between you both? Instead, she just fiddled with it, a nervous tic.

“Can we still be in love?” She pleaded, eyes shining and you screwed yours tight as to not be lost to the depths of them. Her eyes were your weakness, and she knew it. You’d once told her that you thought you’d seen the man on the moon, reflected in them. The man on the moon, dancing on a music box in her eyes.

“I don’t know you. Your voice, it’s different.” The shake of your head and the riddle of your words had the medium narrowing her eyes in confusion. For one who loved to play games, Billie wasn’t playing fair.

“What do you mean? Different how?”

Frustration bit at you, and you wondered if this was the explosion people spoke of. An internal understanding of grief for something you never had.

“I can’t with you Billie! Did you ever even love me? You say you want to be in love but were you ever in love with me? What makes me different from the others?” The chime of the music box, opened and singing in the splash of your tears.

She sighed, tying her hair loosely behind her head to stop her from running her hands through it in anguish. She didn’t like to see you in pain knowing she was the one who’d caused it. Unjustly caused it. Guilt washed smoothly over her only now at the sight of her baby girl, a small ache in the gut. But the realisation hit like a winter wave in a storm. She’d lose you if she didn’t fight to keep you.

She reached out to wipe your tears with a comforting hand.

“Let me in. Please.”

Who were you to seek comfort in the person who’d broken you? Much alike to a shadow seeking solace with the sun, the sun that burned and cut through the shade. Prey looking to please the predator.

But you did. You craved the musk of smoke that would cling to her clothes, the rasp to her voice in the morning. The suggestive lilt to her eyebrow when she’d dress you in her favourite dress, dancing in an empty crowd because she used to only see you.

“I love you.” She begged; voice hoarse from overuse. “You’re a part of me.”

That made you stop. Made you question.

Who were you without her? Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars. She was a light, cutting through the dangerous darkness a path forged for you. The darkness was exciting and inviting and you wanted to be comfortable in its depths, but without her you are nothing.

You sell your soul for the chance at happiness. For the hope that she may learn to love you properly, how you love, and deserve to be loved back. To walk in the light.

You tell yourself how easy it would be to leave the city and find peace elsewhere. Get a steady job in television production, a steady and reliable wage. Reliability. Billie had made you crave it. Crave it from her, selfishly asking for something that you aren’t even sure if she’s capable to give you.

But you're ensnared in her trap. Her charm and confidence has bound you on a tether, an obedient puppy just looking to please. Young and impressionable.

How could you settle for a simple life when Billie had shown you the city from the highest building. Made you watch as the lights illuminated the world below in perfect technicolour. She’d shown you what could be, what was destined to not to be, but what you’d reach for nonetheless.

You’d known about Billie’s previous proclivities toward girls your age, but you’d believed that you could change her. Naively, you, another wide eyed, hopeful wannabee, believed you could make her settle down. Stupid. She’d lain with dozens of girls like you, before you, and she would lay with dozens more.

This realisation did nothing to stop you from letting her back in, agreeing to her empty promise of change.

Was change even possible?

She was Billie Dean Howard, the stars. The stars could make deals with the people of Earth, but they could not bargain in return. You can’t catch a star and claim it as your own. She held all the cards, all the choices while you remained empty. Without her, you were nothing.

You let yourself be engulfed by the stars. Opening your arms for her warmth to invade you once again as she pulled you into a hug. Letting yourself be hers again.

But you’d always been hers, ever since she’d strode, cocky and confident, into your life. You didn’t think that she’d ever truly been yours, or ever would.

Billie Dean Howard held the unpredictability of a tornado’s spin, and people got caught up in her exciting whirlwind. You weren’t sure if she really meant for them to, or if she realised the damage she left in her wake. Travelling from place to place, never looking back.

It was a defence mechanism the job forced upon her. But who was defending you?

“No second chances.” You warned her through gritted teeth, chin propped against her shoulder. She couldn’t see the angry tears that pricked at your eyes, anger at her, at yourself. You’d been reminded of the dangers over and over and yet you still allowed yourself to fall victim to her charm.

“I won’t need one, I promise. I swear I won’t,” Billie reassured, palms rubbing up your back and making you shiver involuntarily. You clutched her blouse in trembling fingers, perhaps if you held on strong enough your bones might turn to ash in her grasp and she’d be the one to mourn. You convinced yourself she wouldmourn.

“I can’t do this again.” Truth.

“I won’t do this again.” Lie.

She hummed, accepting your whispers as truth, for who was Billie Dean Howard to question you? Who was she to take your love for granted and render it infinite? Fame did not mean she was entitled to your loyalty if she refused to give hers.

Billie wasn’t stupid, she knew it wasn’t a game she could win without consequences. She couldn’t have it all. Wouldn’t have it all.

“I love you.” A kiss against skin mottled by tears.

You didn’t say it back, she didn’t deserve it yet. Despite wanting to let your lips form the words, your teeth bit down on your tongue and refused for the phrase to drip demurely from it, she had not yet earned the nectar of your spoken love.

Instead; you let Billie believe that you would have actually left. That you would leave next time.

Not that you wouldn’t have eventually, when you finally broke the spell she had over you, being the television star that she is. You loathed that you would forgive her for hurting you so easily, self-respect forgotten in lieu of kissing under the gentle moon once more.

You were ashamed that you were proud of the fact that she could do anything and you’d still be in love with her. You’d chosen her, your colour sealed with the crimson blood that coursed through your veins.

Red was once your favourite colour, wasn’t it?

taglist: @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @okpaulson @extraordinarilycelestrial @mssallymckenna @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @darling-dontforgetme @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt @d14n4ol @ninaahs @sarahp-stan @natasha-danvers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow @lovelypeasantjellyfish @rainbow-hedgehog @paulawand @saucy-sapphic @lilypadscoven @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @sapphicsarahpaulson @delias-bitch-craft @venablemayfairgoode @loverofallthingssarah @music-addict ,,if you want to be added, give me a shout :))

[watchstarscollide]

Breaking Barriers | Steve Rogers

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» Summary | Your mission to acclimate Steve Rogers to the modern world is coming to an end. But there’s still one last thing he has to try.

❥ Pairing | Pre-Avengers!Steve Rogers x Agent!Reader

★ Word Count | 3.8k

» Genre | fluff, workplace romance

» Warnings | drama, slight angst, touches of work trauma

↳ AN | idk man. This took me way longer to write than I planned and I still am not sure how I feel but here it is. The past few fics I’ve posted were written a year or so ago so this one is my first real new writing out into the universe.

See end for one more note.

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There was something about the atmosphere of libraries that was both calming and unnerving. Maybe it was the childhood fear of getting yelled at for being too loud by the stereotypical old librarian. Maybe it was the sense of anxiety that radiated off the dozens of students cramming for exams and papers.

Or maybe it was the quiet, the abnormal stillness in the air. There weren't many moments of quiet in your life and whenever there was you normally didn’t like the outcome that followed. You learned to adapt in wreckage and noise.

Relax, it’s a public library. A regular part of the mission.

You cringed momentarily at the thought of “the mission”. At this point you were past the lines of a routine mission but still desperately grasping at a professional approach was always at the forefront of your mind. Really though, if anyone asked, you were here for a friend.

“Are you okay?”

The corner of the discolored page between your fingertips  falls back to the table as you turned your head in the direction of the voice speaking. In the droning silence surrounding you hadn’t even realized you had spaced out staring directly towards a blank wall.

Steve watched you with a sligh furrow in his brow. Concern, you were able to read that as clearly as the words that littered the pages of the fantasy book in front of you. With a short shake to clear your head you threw him a relaxed smile.

“All good”

He didn’t buy it. “You haven’t flipped that page for the past 20 minutes”

“It’s an intense scene, I needed to really lay it out in my head” you joked, looking down at the unturned page. To be honest you weren’t even sure where you had last left off in the sea of paragraphs anyway.

He was right, you were distracted. The quietness around you only made your own thoughts louder, too loud to ignore. You loathed that Steve was able to read you that easily, no one should be able to. As a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, half of your job description was deception and obscurity. Were you losing your touch or were you really just that obvious?

“Very funny” He gently closed the book that lay in front of him, not even bothering to keep his place, “Come on, what’s on your mind?”

You stared at him for a moment weighing your options.. He was right, there was something on your mind that you wanted to get out, but was now the time to get into it? It would have to be said sooner rather than later anyway. There was no use being sentimental about it but you were bothered. So bothered that apparently it was clear to others and you were letting your guard down. Maybe now really was for the best.

A sigh slipped past your lips, “I got my new orders”

Steve noticeably stiffened at your words but he seemed able to recover quickly as you also closed the book in front of you. The silence across the table was prolonged for a time as Steve processed the information you had only received earlier in the morning.

This was inconvenient, you knew that. He'd had a routine that had helped him immensely in the ongoing stages of acclimation to the modern world. An established schedule and repertoire between the two of you that was received well and showed positive signs of working. Steve’s coping and adapting was impressive in just the 6 months you had been assigned. He still had hard days, as was to be expected, but ever since he was out of the ice you were the one constant he could count on in his controlled life.

And this is one of the instances you knew you were dancing the line between your personal and professional life. Because as hard as you tried to keep it business, the news has you worried. He had progressed so much, what would happen when you were gone? Would you be replaced? Or would he be left to his own devices and contacts? Though every current contact he had were government officials pestering him about his past and his future, except you. That wasn’t your job and in light of that, a friendship and comradery has blossomed between you both.

And that friendship only grew closer as time passed. There were stories that would slip out of your mouth in the weeks you spent together that not another soul even knew or would care to hear but he took them in eagerly. A way to distract him from everything. And in return he would tell you anecdotes from his childhood across the bridge, his friends, his family, and briefly his time in the war. You would revel in his stories, taking them in knowing they would stay out of your progress reports and only in your memories.

Just as Steve had felt out of his element, It was different for you to not be on the ground, too. You had both found a shared feeling of discomfort in the sitting still. Steve was still at war in his mind and you were deployed so often that S.H.I.E.L.D had to add an apartment for you to their budget. You hadn’t ever needed a place to call ‘home’ before.

And now you weren’t sure what you were going to do without it.

“Where are you going?” Steve broke the silence.

“Nevada”

The information sunk in as Steve stacked his short pile of books on top of each other and moved to stand. You followed his lead, taking your book to return to it’s shelf. The New York Public Library was never a place you had stepped into before he had asked. After just a couple visits you realized quickly that Steve enjoyed the prospect of catching up through books more than taking on the task of shows, movies, and god forbid the internet. With that, you made sure a stop at the library fit into the routine every week.

“What’s going on out there?” He asked.

“That, Captain Rogers, is classified” you teased, “Besides, in true S.H.I.E.L.D. fashion, I haven’t been debriefed and probably won’t until I touch down”

He nodded understanding the workings of the agency in the amount of time he has spent among them. After a beat of silence a hand made it’s way over your shoulder to grab the book from your hands before it found its way on the top of Steve’s own pile.

“Oh don’t worry, I can put that back” you assured him.

You make a move to grab the book from his hands but he quickly turns his shoulder to block your advance.

“You said this was one of your favorites, right?” He asks, looking down at the cover which did not give much away. You raised an eyebrow slightly at his curiosity but nodded in response. Steve usually gravitated towards history books or books he had back in his time just as a creature comfort. You, on the other hand, used books to get away from the real world. You basked in fantasy and fiction, anything to let you have a moment out of your own life.

“I want to give it a try” He said, continuing to walk towards the counter.

A soft smile graced your lips as you watched him from a couple steps behind, “Well, now you're going to have to let me know what you think about it before I leave, so you better get to reading”

He laughed, something he often found himself doing around you. His smile was contagious as you almost always followed along with the same expression.

“When do you ship out?”

You cringed at the question and quick return back to the unfortunate conversation.  You continued to speak as you both walked down the city streets back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Most often you met each other at the offices on your days together. It always kept your superiors at bay with their questioning and pestering.

“Well” you started, fiddling at the sleeves of your jacket, “They fly me out at the end of the week”

Steve stopped in his tracks right in the middle of the sidewalk causing a few grumbles from the people who had to veer around him. It took you a moment to even realize he was no longer walking beside you, but as you looked back at the spot where he had previously occupied, you stopped as well. Something in your chest ached at the forced look on his face. Just as he had learned to read you, you had learned his own tells. And you could tell when he was pushing down and boxing up his honest feelings.

“It’ll be fine, I know they won’t leave you hanging in the cold” you tried reassuring him, “no pun intended, of course”

You chuckled at your own joke but he couldn’t give more than a slight lift in the corner of his lips. You sighed for what felt like the dozenth time since the morning but tried to keep the light energy going. You had to be reassigned at some point, they had warned you against getting attached during your initial task meeting.

“Don’t misunderstand your assignment. You’re not around to play house or make friends. Steve Rogers is a weapon”

You repeated those words to yourself when you started to slip, started getting too close. But still it could only work for so long. This was a challenge that proved itself possibly just a little too much for you to chew.

“Besides, they might even assign you someone better” You pulled him to keep walking back with you and out of the way, “Someone with more life experience or someone who could actually keep up with you in the gym”

Now he finally let out a short laugh, “I’m not sure about that”

“Yeah, probably not”

“But maybe someone who doesn’t drink coffee like water. Or someone who doesn’t talk during movies. Or someone who-”

“Okay, okay. Wow, tell me how you really feel” You laughed out loud along with him, falling back into a lighthearted tone. You both died down into another comfortable silence that was easily achieved between the two of you. Steve was one of the only people you’d been able to experience that with.

You’d miss that. Something so simple.

That internal ache appeared again, stemming from your chest. You weren’t dumb nor were you blind to your own emotions. You were just doing the one thing that kept you in line. The same as Steve had done earlier and yet another way you were similar.

You were going to miss him. You could admit that in the confines of your own mind. But it didn’t go past that. You couldn’t let yourself think about how you would miss his infectious attitude. His unending determination and drive, no doubt remnants from his upbringing.

How he would always make sure to get you that morning coffee to turn your mood. The jokes he would throw your way when you were having an especially hard day, especially the ones that made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. The way his eyes would light up when he would genuinely smile.

That damn smile…

“You’re going to have to give me a list of anything you want to squeeze in the next few days” you let out, attempting to get your mind back on track.

He let out a hum and nodded slowly, thinking of what he could possibly put down.

“Anything, otherwise you’re going to have to do them with some other lonely agent and we already established they probably won’t be nearly as good”

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

The remainder of the week went on as normal. Hard gym sessions, trips around Manhattan, followed by another attempt at getting Steve into a smart phone. Neither of you talked much about the inevitable on the horizon. Steve seemed to be handling it well, just letting time ride by, but for you...for you it was just that you didn’t want to think about it.

Surely you would see him again, right?

Hopefully.

On your last day together it was a little harder to ignore. For the most part the day progressed as normal, every once in a while you would mention things you could go over the following day or plans for the next week, entirely forgetting that you would not be around for it.  It was somber but each time Steve caught your facade slip he would be right there to make you smile again.

As the day winded down and you both made your way back to the HQ, it couldn't have been more bittersweet. The sunset’s filtering rays between the tall buildings, perfectly lighting the street like a postcard along with the cool breeze blowing in off the water. It was one of the most peaceful evenings you’ve seen in a while but that didn’t reflect the same internally.

“Hey” Steve spoke up.

“What’s up?” You asked, not bothering to turn around as you continued the walk back.

A hand grasped at your forearm halting you from walking any further. Startled was one word to describe what you had felt, another would be deep embarrassment from the butterflies that filled your stomach almost immediately. Other than in sparring sessions, Steve Rogers was almost resistant to physical touch. You remember noting that in one of your very first mission reports as he shied away from nurses checking his vitals and even when you had reached out for so much as a handshake.

You glanced up at him in curiosity when he didn’t make any moves to let go. Steve opened his mouth to speak but words failed him as his eyes bounced across your face and features, trying to find the right way to say what was on his mind. You couldn’t name a time you had ever seen the Captain so...nervous.

Eventually he willed himself to speak, “I thought of one thing I wanted to do before you go”

It took you a moment to register what he was saying as his anxiety had put you on edge. You had been mentally preparing yourself for something much more drastic to leave his mouth. But with his words, another slight pang hit your chest.

Why did this have to be so damn hard?

“Well gee, Cap, you really waited until the last minute” you laughed, though that same look of tension and anxiety never left Steve’s face. It must have been something important to him if it was causing this much build up in his mind.

“Well, what is it? I don’t mind having a long day seeing as…” you trailed off, still not wanting to outright say it. That you would be a plane tomorrow morning. That it would be a long time till you come back to the city. That it was possible this would be your very last day with Steve Rogers.

Steve dropped his hand from your arm and instead took your hand in his, “Go on a date with me”

He watched you carefully, gauging your reaction though you seemed too stunned to properly give one. Your mouth popped open slightly agape as you stared back at him. It seemed it was your turn to search for your words.

A moment passed where you questioned if you had heard him wrong or if there was some alternate meaning to the words he had spoken. There was no denying there was a base human part of you that had always been attracted to Steve Rogers, it was hard not to be. Not only was he good looking but he had this old fashioned charm that was hard to resist. They truly didn’t make them like him anymore, literally and figuratively. Still though, this was the side that you always toed the line on, making sure to never let yourself cross over. But that human reaction still kicked in...was this something else entirely or was he truly asking you on a date?

Steve was thinking the same thing in his own head, almost in disbelief that he was able to get the question out. The question he already knew he wanted to ask weeks and weeks ago. But the longer the silence between the two of you stretched, the more he wondered if he had...what was that phrase you had taught him? Jumped the shark.

“I’m confused” you finally admitted, relieving him just to hear you speak., “Is this just for...research purposes? Like you want to know what a modern date looks like so you know for future reference?”

Steve’s brow furrowed ever so slightly as a breathy laugh left his lips.

“Has it really changed that much in the past 70 years?” He shook his head and looked back into your perplexed eyes.

Your face softened at the clear vulnerability Steve was feeling and showing. All intimidation that radiated from the man melted away. He no longer looked like the 6 foot super soldier with the weight of a world war on his shoulders. He looked like the simple boy from Brooklyn that he always described himself as.

Your gaze lingered down to his hand still firmly tethered onto your own. More than anything you wanted to give in. You wanted to give into the man who had made you smile and laugh so much over the past half year. The man who made you remember those human emotions and remind you that there was more to you than just being a government tool. He was one of the few people who knew exactly what that was like.

But you were both still government agents, that was the reality of the situation. Even if you truly wanted to, how ethical was it to accept such an offer? Captain America’s reintegration into society was your mission. Your entire existence in his life was to have him trust you and be his comfortable point of contact. Was this even morally right or was there some weird dynamic that you’d be taking advantage of? Did he actually have any feelings for you or had he just become accustomed to you?

Your name was called softly in the silence forcing you to come back into the moment.

“Steve…”

His face immediately dropped along with his hand and though you had tried to keep it together all day, the action broke your heart.

“It’s not that I don’t want to!” You quickly tried to save, reaching out to take a hold of his wrist. “It’s just...my job and your role. It’s complicated. We’re basically coworkers”

Steve chuckled with shreds of amusement, “Agent, I’m not one to pull rank but need I remind you”

“Oh really? And here I was afraid that I would be the one taking advantage of you, Captain” you joked along.

His brow furrowed, “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“I mean, it was a concern”

“With all due respect, you don’t have any power over me. Not in that way, at least. If anything, I’m the one taking advantage of the situation”

“How is that?”

“Part of the mission purpose is to accommodate me. It would be hard for you to say no”

“That’s a big assumption” you remarked with a raised brow. The corner of the man’s lip lifted in an arrogant smirk because truthfully you both knew ultimately he was right though for a different reason. You shared a smile with him while shaking your head.

Your smile saddened slightly as you looked back up at him. This was just too good to be true, too easy to be feasible. You’d learned quickly in your career that nothing was ever as it seemed and it was never easy. But…could it be possible?

“Something tells me Fury wouldn’t be too happy with either of us about fraternizing during an

assignment. And unfortunately for me I think it’s clear who might be the expendable one”

“Then take this conversation as a formal extension of my gratitude to you for all of the help. Assignment concluded”

This man might just be the death of you.

“Steve, I leave tomorrow”

“Which is why you need to give me a chance now” he stated, “Listen, I’ve been here before. I don’t want to wait for a future that might not come. I can’t miss my shot, not again”

The space between the two of you grew smaller as he moved in even closer.

He carefully brought a hand up to the side of your face, pushing your hair softly behind your ear.

“Come on, doll. It was hard enough to pluck up the courage. Don’t keep a guy waiting”

A million and one thoughts ran through your head as you got lost in the crystal clear blue of his eyes. This wasn’t smart, it went against every instinct you had built up and trained in for years. Your superiors would be so disappointed in you. There was no telling where this would go or how it would end up. But for once the unknown was thrilling, the defiance was almost arousing.

“I don’t know, Captain Rogers” you started. You could see the quick drop of Steve’s shoulders and demeanor as he readied himself for rejection. You moved ever so closer to him, “I don't know if you can handle me. I ain’t no dame, you know”

Steve whipped his head back up to see your bright smile aimed straight towards him. A smile

he swore could light up even the darkest alley.

“I think I’ll take my chances”

“Oh, I should warn you” You started, “I like to work backwards”

Steve raised his brow in question. You moved a single hand up to his neck and pulled him down firmly to finally close the ever shrinking gap between the two of you. Your lips met clumsily as a muffled noise of surprised laughter drifted up to your ears. Steve caught his balance with hands firmly gripping your hips, bringing you even closer.

The kiss was anything but graceful but it was everything Steve needed to confirm where you stood and the last semblance of any restraint torn down.

Steve inhaled deeply with a slightly dazed look when you finally loosened your grip on his neck.

“Maybe I do like when you have some of the power”

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

↳ AN | If you enjoyed the concept of this I actually have a few chapters of a series following the movie timeline around this idea with more drama and deception. I think it’s fun lol but let me know if you want to see that!

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter one - “to wakanda”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: reader works for what used to be shield as a highly skilled neuropsychologist. after the events in vienna involving the sokovia accords and a bombing, she gets an interesting request from friend and coworker sharon carter...a request involving none other than steve rogers and james barnes.

warnings: brief and indirect mentions of abuse/trauma

pairings: bucky x fem!reader

"I don't know Sharon. Are you sure I'm really the right person for this? I'm not, like, an Avengers level tech. Are you sure they don't want a genius or someone like Stark to do it?"

"Well, Stark is pretty busy right now, and honestly, no one knows psych like you. Not who I've met anyway."

"That is so not true. I'm willing to bet there's tons of other people you guys got somewhere who are ten times what I am."

"Agent (Y/L/N), in case you missed it, SHIELD isn't what it used to be. Sure we have old agents who aren't formally 'SHIELD agents,' anymore, but we don't have the expendability we used to. You're our best bet at the moment."

"Damn. I'm your best bet. I'm sorry," she almost chuckled, but then she thought for a brief moment. "Are you sure this is completely necessary? I mean, I saw the photo on the news. The quality's poor at best, and..."

She leaned in, discretely, and whispered.

"...not to seem like a conspiracy theorist commie or anything, but it kinda seems like people are jumping to conclusions here. Are we even sure it was Barnes who set off the bomb?"

Sharon looked around them, cautiously. No one seemed to be listening, but she scanned the room like her life as she knew it was hanging in the balance. She weighed her words in her head, making sure she picked the right ones, then formulated a response appropriate.

"Regardless of if it was him or not, Barnes still escaped. and before that, Ste-we'd been looking for him for almost two years. This analysis is necessary," Sharon brought her voice down even lower. "At least that's what I keep being told. Of course I'd like there to be more solid proof, but I'm not in charge here. He's gone, and they want to be able to find him and 'sort things out.'"

"'Sort things out,'" (Y/N) repeated, questioning the genuineness of whomever told Sharon that. "Unless they have hard evidence that it was him who set off the bomb in Vienna, shouldn't they leave that to uh...Captain America?"

She wondered how Barnes was able to escape in the first place. She saw the containment module he was in; there's no way he could've gotten out without a fight. ...But maybe it wasn't a fight. Perhaps it was a trigger word induced rage. (Y/N) understood a basic layout of the "Winter Soldier." SHIELD would've kept any information they had classified. However, after the fiasco in Washington, d.c. with Hydra and the whole releasing of all files predicament, she was able, with Sharon's help, to put together a simple outline. With that being said, he couldn't have broken out without going Winter Soldier mode. But doesn't someone need the trigger words for that?

“That's what a reasonable person would think, but once again, I'm not in charge," Sharon shrugged. "Things would probably be going a lot smoother if I was, but you can't have everything."

(Y/N) cracked a smile. Sharon was a friend, and a good one too. They'd known each other since before SHIELD was shattered in 2014. In fact, Sharon helped train her.

The only thing was: Sharon was a higher ranking agent and often withheld certain information from (Y/N). It frustrated her. This was where their personal boundaries got in the way of their professional ones.

She could tell there was something Sharon wasn't telling her, but she wasn't about to compromise either of their positions by pushing for information she wasn't supposed to know. Hell, maybe even Sharon knows something she isn't supposed to. Or maybe she knows something that Everett Ross wouldn't like. What if she was keeping something from him? Defying him? What if she was working with Steve Rogers? Now that would be interesting.

(Y/N) was used to secrets around her all the time. She knew Sharon had her fair share, and trying to figure them out wouldn't really get her anywhere.

"Right. Okay. Well, I'll get on this then. Thanks, Agent Carter," she teased in late response to Sharon's 'Agent (Y/N).’

Sharon offered a quick smile before walking off to attend to other business.

- - -

Pain. That was all it was. In every sense of the word. As she strenously made her way through the densely packed file of one James Buchanan Barnes, pain was all she could see. All she could read. It leaked out of the page and seeped into her skin like poison.

It was horrific what they did to him. She knew he had his memory wiped, had someone pull him out and stick someone else in. But it was more than just that. They took his past, his memories, his thoughts; and they ripped them from his mind, leaving an empty space to mold into their own. It was after this when Hydra, in every way they could, dehumanized him, made him less than. He was striped of his freedom, his control, his choice, his humanity, of everything that made him him. They beat and bruised and broke it out this empty human shell until he was nothing but a shadow of faded morality and consciousness.

But hell, she couldn't look away. She was glued to the aftershock of this horrible wreckage. All the years of studying Psychology and Neuroscience couldn't have possibly prepared her for the absolute horror that was his past, his abuse, his torture. It was heinous. Frankly, she questioned how he was still alive. How he still had the will and the drive to be alive. How do you live after that?

"Fuck," she breathed after eons of silence.

She seemed to lose her sense of time whilst she was immersed in the harrowing nightmare of Hydra's cruelty. 'Cruelty' doesn't even come close to doing it justice. When she came to, her desk looked like a bomb went off. Papers were bursting out of manilla folders, littering the linoleum surface with classified files and secret information. She leaned back in her chair, and gave herself a minute to debrief.

(Y/N) almost felt guilty, like she things she looked at were so vile, so violating that she didn't have the right to see them. Sure, she had read and analyzed all sorts of trauma and psychological profiles. But he was different. Something about James Barnes was different. It tangled her mind the fact that a person could endure all that. She could only imagine the effect that would have on the human brain. The possibilities are endless. Suddenly bombing the UN didn't seem so far fetched.

- - -

"Jesus Christ," (Y/N) murmured, staring at her office floor as Sharon finished explaining to her what happened at the Leipzig Halle Airport.

She sat mostly in silence as she pondered over the information just fed to her. Apparently Tony Stark gathered a 'team' to try and intercept Captain America - sorry - Steve Rogers and his (supposed) fugitive friend. It was chaos.

"What is this? Fuckin' Avengers Fight Night?" she wondered aloud. "How many people did you say were there?"

"Twelve total," Sharon clarified. "Five with Stark and five with Steve."

The psychologist shook her head, dumbfounded. "How did it end?"

"Steve and Barnes got out, but everyone else with them were captured and sent to the Raft."

"The Raft?!" (Y/N) exclaimed. "That's for, like, super humans! Not people like Sam Wilson or Clint Barton!"

"You're telling me."

Sharon seemed in agreement with everything she was saying. However, there was something she couldn't quite place. Like she was holding back. But holding back what?

"So what of Rogers and Barnes?" (Y/N) pushed.

Sharon got up and closed the office door before returning to her seat, leaning in, and lowering her voice. This secretive woman, god damn it.

"Well... That's what I came to talk to you about."

Oh boy. She didn't have a semblance of a single idea of what to expect. Apparently Sharon noticed.

"We're the only ones that know this. They're fine..." the agent trailed off, "They're in Wakanda, but they need a little help."

"Are you leaving?!" (Y/N) all but yelled before quickly slapping a hand over her mouth and uncovering it only to whisper, "Do you and Rogers have a thing or something? Cause' I don't know how else you would know all of this when I'm sure that no one else does considering he's now an enemy of several governments!"

"My relations with Steve Rogers are not the focus here." She could've sworn Sharon flushed. "But we have been in contact; I'm one of the few people he can trust right now, and I don't plan on letting him down anytime soon."

They totally have a thing.

"Noted," said (Y/N) with a nod, "but why are you telling me this? Does he want the profile analysis or something? I don't see how he would need it if he's known Barnes for however long."

"Not exactly..." Sharon fidgeted with her hands. "We need you to go to Wakanda.”

-

[A/N:] this is a repost of chapter 1 because my masterlist is being fucky

[darlingletshurttonight]

The Piano

(okay yall i wrote something. this takes place after gaon finds out yohan is alive the second time. i had written this for myself but if this helps anybody get their daily dose of gahan, here it goes. its not proofread or anything so bear with me :’])

Gaon walked out of the mansion, feeling empty. Of course, he was happy that Yohan was alive, and he was with Elijah. He was relieved that he was able to keep his promise to Elijah. It was such a relief that they were together again.

Only, without him.

Yes, he had fucked up. Yes, he almost messed up the bleak relationship Yohan and Elijah had. It never struck him how easily he blended in with them. Okay, it did strike him, but he chose to ignore that it might not have been permanent. It probably never would be. He just... wished he could go back.

As he walked his usual path home, he noticed another sapling, growing in dire conditions on the side of the road. The leaves were yellowing, roots sticking out from the mud.

"Are you alone too?" he murmured, picking up the broken pot.

He held it close as he walked down the stairs, wondering when was the last time he felt so lost. Alone.

Maybe this was a good thing? Even if the thought of having nobody made him shiver in anxiety and pain. He couldn't even process how he lost so many people so quickly. He regretted some things, he appreciated some things. By the time he reached his front door, his sleeves were stained with the mud, and mind still hazy from everything that had happened. He was hoping the walk would clear his mind. But this wasn't something a walk would fix. He soon realized, this wasn't something that diving deep into work and losing the little sanity he had left would fix. He skipped meals, came home late and didn't talk to many people. His only company was his mind, which wasn't really helping.

He was sitting on the bench on his terrace with his dinner that consisted of a single coffee. He knew that he was getting a fresh start, he had to start living for himself now, there was no other way. He wondered how Elijah's rehabilitation was going, was she able to feel her legs? Was she able to stand, walk around? What was their relationship like now?

He felt a turmoil every time he even vaguely thought of Yohan. His emotions would fly through a spectrum. The more days went by, the more he got time and clarity to think, and the more his anger and acceptance clashed.

Was he not enough?

He was never a part of them, he was just visiting.

Did he not repent for his mistakes enough?

They needed time away to heal.

Did Yohan lose all the trust he had in him?

Elijah's treatment was a priority.

Had Yohan finally pushed him away?

He must have needed space from the person who didn't choose him many times.

Had Gaon, read it all wrong?

There was only so much he could do to convince himself that there was once a beautiful phase in his life - short, surrounded by pain and betrayal - but beautiful nonetheless. He now had to build meaningful relationships with people from the ground up, and people were exhausting. He was tired of losing.

Why was he the one always losing his people? As he watered his plants, he noticed the newest one not doing so well. He put in some fertilizer, adding some rocks at the bottom and placing it in a different location.

Maybe this is what he needed. Some reorganizing.

Gaon had known how to play the piano. His father's piano was still in the house, by the corner. He had learnt a few things from him. He wasn't the best, but Gaon liked learning it exactly the way his father played it. After their death, he never looked at it. He had managed to sideline its existence, simply because no one could play it the way he was used to.

It seemed old now, worn out. Gaon had cleaned it once in a while, just as any other furniture in the house. Not a single key had been played since the last few years, this was the first time Gaon was properly looking at it. He sat on the seat, immediately regretting it. He felt the keys softly, trying to gain some familiarity.

Nothing.

He pressed a key, another one, and another one. His pace got quicker and the sound messier as he desperately tried to make sense of the unfamiliarity,

He stood up in frustration, and gave up on the attempt. As he lay curled up in bed, the weight of not just the loneliness but the strength he didn't have to continue weighed on him. His tears fell, and he was at the rock bottom again.

He came home the next day, and stared at the piano from the kitchen table. Why he was so adamant on playing it, he didn't quite understand. He rummaged through some old boxes in his house, and found a music notebook, with some loose sheets inside. Placing them on the sill, he tried to read and play. He didn't care if he was playing it right, he just wanted to play. He wanted to feel something. He wanted to feel the comfort of sitting next to his father who played a love song for his wife, every time she came home from work. He wanted to feel that belonging.

He played after work everyday. He missed a lot of notes, he had to look up tutorials to understand things he had forgotten. He wasn't acing this, but it kept him going.

He chose to ignore the images of Yohan that crept in his mind as he played the piano. And then one day it didn't hurt so much to think about Yohan as he played. And the next day he deliberately thought of Yohan, not that he had to put in much effort for that. He imagined playing the piano for Yohan. He might never have Yohan again, but this was for him. For letting him choose his own paths, for giving him a family and that feeling of belonging, for allowing Gaon to see him vulnerable, for trusting Gaon. And, for accepting the way Gaon was.

Gaon was planning to reorganize his house after the day of the reform meeting. He'd have some time on his hands to give it some thought. A few days ago he had bought groceries and made himself proper dinner. A few days before that he had cleaned up the mess that his house had become.

Before he left for the meeting, he noticed the leaves of his new plant turning a rich shade of green. He smiled on the way to work.

But the smile disappeared when Jin Joo mentioned she was leaving. He realized he could've spent some more time for her. But he wasn't going to regret it. enough of that. He promised to visit and keep in touch. He knew that she wouldn't expect him to, but he was still going to try.

What he did not prepare for, was to see Yohan again. He had given up. And here Yohan was, standing in front of him. His unkempt hair, informal clothes, the vulnerability in his eyes, and the hopeful smile. Was this another chance? There was so much Gaon wanted to say. There was so much Gaon wanted to make sure Yohan knew. His heart raced as he tried to conjure up some words, something, anything.

But he realized he didn't have to say anything, Yohan knew. Of course Yohan knew. He knew him better than anyone.

He stood frozen, a smile and tears plastered to his face, as he watched Yohan walk away. Now he knew, they were finally on the same page. Gaon would chase Yohan to the ends of the world, if Yohan allowed him. But Yohan was always by his side, right from the beginning. He loved Yohan, and it was only a matter of time before he would bring up the courage to tell him so.

He visited the mansion as soon as he could escape from the office. He saw the lights on for the first time in a month. He'd never understand how he had conflicting emotions, yet a sense of comfort everytime he was here. He entered the house, on his way to Yohan's study, where he knew Yohan would be. The last time he did so, he was holding a knife. This time, it was his own heart in his hand.

He stopped in his tracks as he turned around the corner and watched Yohan leaning against the table, hands folded across his chest, as if waiting for him.

"I was waiting for you" he said. His eyes were unreadable but Gaon knew he didn't just mean about this meeting.

Gaon closed his eyes and let a tear fall. He'd never thought he'd hear this voice again. This was all real, after all. He really was here.

"What brings you back?" Gaon managed to ask, taking a few steps forward. He didn't even try to hold his tears back, whatever the answer was going to be, he was going to show Yohan his honest feelings. That's what he was here for. He wanted Yohan to see him.

He watched Yohan's face softening, relaxing his arms. Gaon wished he'd hold him.

"I came to check on you"

Gaon felt like the floor was swept off from under his feet. He was worth it after all.

"Thank you" he whispered, sniffing away his tears.

"How's Elijah? Is she here?" Gaon asked, after a pause.

"No, she's getting adjusted to the center there. She's okay, she misses you"

"And you?"

Gaon watched Yohan look for an answer. He hadn't prepared for this blunt question, and frankly, neither had Gaon. The longer the silence was, the more afraid Gaon felt to know the answer.

Yohan had a habit of communicating with his eyes. Gaon was pretty good at reading them, but today he just had to be sure. What he didn't know was that Yohan was remembering every waking memory of him missing Gaon in the last month. Elijah's first appointment, their first meal they had made themselves, every single meal they had, the milestones Elijah was reaching, just...everything. How was he supposed to say this?

When Gaon got impatient, he decided to simply confess.

"I've missed you," he let out a breath he was holding all this while "a lot. I was losing my mind"

"Gaon-ah"

"I really thought I had lost you two forever," he paused to get a reaction, anything, from Yohan. He realized Yohan wouldn't have anything to say unless Gaon laid himself bare for him. So be it.

"I didn't even think you were real today, at the office. I was really really happy that you got out of all that alive, only that, you left. I wished you'd have told me. I was angry at first"

Yohan furrowed his eyebrows.

Gaon continued, "But I know Elijah's treatment was important, and you needed some peace, after... after all that. I'm sorry for everything I caused. Honestly, you gave me a second home and I, I just can't imagine...I cant imagine a world without you"

He averted his gaze and said one last thing, "If you want me to leave, please say so. I'll -"

"I've missed you, Gaon-ah"

Gaon dared to look at Yohan.

"So much that it hurt"

Gaon swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Yohan stepped forward.

"After everything we've been through, I could never leave you behind. I thought you knew me better than that"

They stood close, their faces inches apart. Gaon couldn't tell what the anger in Yohan's voice was for. But he was willing to take it. He would take anything.

He stepped forward and held Yohan's shoulders, gently pulling him into his arms. He buried his face in Yohan's neck, the cloth of the robe absorbing his tears. He felt Yohan's arms sliding up his back, grip slowly tightening.

Neither would let go for a long time.

Later that night, Yohan watched as Gaon moved about the kitchen at Gaon's home, preparing dinner. He sat on one of the chairs, arms folded, eyes moving wherever Gaon went.

Gaon felt his gaze and didn't hide his smile.

"I'm guessing you haven't been eating well" Yohan observed.

Gaon bit his lip. "Guilty"

Yohan shook his head and looked around the place. "You play the piano?"

Gaon looked over, his hands still working on the stove. His saving grace stood there in all its glory.

"My father used to play, mostly for my mom. I had learnt from him but didn't touch it for a long time. I got back to it a few weeks ago"

"I'd like to hear you play"

Gaon's eyes welled up but he focused on the cooking. He smiled back at Yohan, like it wasn't a big deal.

Gaon stared at Yohan as he ate. He ate like a child, and Gaon adored him. He rubbed some crumbs off Yohan's lips and fed him some more. Was this really happening? He didn't really care, he was just happy.

They sat on the piano seat together. Yohan stared at Gaon as the latter played. Although Gaon's face felt hot with Yohan's gaze in such proximity, he focused on the music. He wanted to play it right.

"This is something my father used to play for my mother. I used to watch them sit here and reminisce about their college days"

Gaon struggled to get more words out. He wanted to be explicit with Yohan. He wanted to be unabashed. He took Yohan's hand, the one that held the scar. As he traced a finger over it, Yohan laced their fingers together.

Gaon looked at Yohan, who had scooted closer than ever. He squeezed Gaon's hand, reassuring and soft.

"Let me love you" Gaon whispered, as if saying it any louder would break the delicate moment.

He closed his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against Yohan's.

"Please" he added.

"Are you sure?" Yohan asked, his voice heavy. Like he’d played this conversation multiple times in his head before, and had thought of all the responses he could come up with, with very few of them favorable.

Gaon swooped in, closing the short distance between them.

On the terrace, the new plant bloomed a flower bud.

[kurohoely]

mask (sakusa x y/n)

What happens when Sakusa realizes masks are better off than on?

genre: hurt/comfort, sakusa is in time skip!

wc: 2.2k

It was known that Sakusa is reserved, he only shows his most relaxed self to those who he trusts, which includes you. He can show those random, whacky emotions, teasing you and giving some gen z emojis but being open and vulnerable? That’s just not him.

You have been dating him for almost a few months now and a lot of people were surprised that you both actually worked out. The dynamic you both have was something people often quote as ‘not compatible’. You knew him before since you both have few classes together in college but who would’ve thought from those unintentional crossings lead you here. Sakusa’s character is pretty obvious and you kind of get it by now how he works and acts but was there any difference between before and now? Why does it feel like the walls are kept up, and builds higher than before?

You tried to initiate a lot of things. He does too but he was indeed more awkward, baby steps as you call it. Despite all that, you appreciate him, all the things he did were definitely out of his comfort zone. You kept saying to yourself that he's trying, remembering that he was the one that confessed first. You hold onto that memory in hope that it will be dynamic throughout the relationship.

But how about right now? With the new season up and running, you kept seeing less and less of him. Countless lonely dinners and cold bedsheets. Rescheduled dates and missing out on one another. You almost excused Sakusa for forgetting your anniversary, thinking it was a given. You signed up to be with someone that has no constant rhythm in their life, always the next big thing to keep their lives afloat. Again, you put on another layer, masking away, reasoning to yourself that things will work out. You don't want to bother him, let alone be the reason why he is stressing out. Patience has always been a good nature of you but sometimes, you question if you should stop being selfless and start being selfish. He is your boyfriend after all.

Sakusa noticed the subtle changes that happened. He felt that you were perfect. Too perfect, as a matter of fact. He wanted to sit down and try to understand why and where this was coming from because he definitely didn't confess to you for perfection. He wanted you. Not any other version. Pure and transparent. No mask. But as much as he wanted to, it is still out of his nature, and with the season starting, it will be quite some time before he can bring this again.

Mid through the season, work is piling up, matches are getting tougher each time they win. That’s a given. You came to almost all of his games and have them recorded on tv. Whatever the outcome, you will always be proud of him. He was basking in his prime condition; you were there for him and his plays were getting synchronized with the team at a rate that even the coach was surprised. He left the thought at the back of his mind, focusing on what he has to do first. After each match, you both have this little ritual, spending some alone time together starting with dinner as both of your schedules sometimes don't overlap quite nicely. Sakusa told you about his plays as if you weren’t there to witness it all and you can’t blame him. You love seeing the sparkle in his eyes when he talks about how good it felt when spiking. The conversation flows naturally and you both talked about how your days went. You were both walking diaries of each other. Not until Sakusa flipped a page that has been long overdue.

He cussed himself to have the audacity to forget about this issue. He doesn’t like this. It was as if he’s taking advantage of your facade, your mask. Even though Sakusa tells you many times that you need to wear one physically, this was something that he wished to be stripped off completely. He hates it. He hates that he can't be a safe space for you. Someone you can let yourself breathe from the suffocating expectations from the outside world. But what he hates the most is that you changed yourself to accommodate his own ignorance.

Sakusa flipped his match schedule. It looks like there won't be another match in 5 days. He called Meian and Iwaizumi if it’s okay if he takes a few days off from practice. Both of them were surprised that Sakusa would even ask for a day off but they agreed anyway. He’s not the type to ask for one so this must be something really important.

Saturday shifts are hard. You only have one day of rest before hustling again on Monday but oh you were SO GLAD that your manager said that you can have a paid leave on Monday after helping out on a side project for some other team.

You pushed your shared apartment door, dragging your feet inside. You saw Sakusa peek his head from the kitchen. He took off his apron and walked to you, grabbing your bags from the floor and giving a peck on your cheek. You went to the bedroom and saw the bath bomb that you bought impulsively on your previous date. A bath sounds nice, you thought to yourself.

Filling up the bath to a slightly hotter temperature, a much-needed one to shake that fatigue out from your body and start your long weekend with a fresher body. Gently dipping your toes, you hold the sides and lower yourself in, letting the heat seep into your skin. As you were shuffling your position, a knock on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?”

“Doors unlocked so yeah baby come in”

Sakusa twisted the knob, letting himself in. He sat on the floor next to the tub, a rare sight for Sakusa and you. He folded his arms on the dry part of the tub and stared into your eyes. Losing himself in your mind, finding where he actually belongs. He knows this isn’t the right time, not even a good one, to bring up this matter but it has been pushed back for too long, he couldn’t care less about what setting it was in right now. You were always firm on your stands, confronting those to have the middle ground in everything but now, it was as if he’s with someone else.

“Hey sunshine, how's the bath”

You flushed at the pet name he called you. When was the last time you heard that softness, that warmth? The sense of home and belonging to another person, solely wanting to give your whole life away in exchange for his.

“It's pretty nice. Do you wanna join in?”

“Hmm sounds nice.”

He removes his mask and strips quickly, submerging himself into the tub in front of you. He pressed his muscular, toned back to your chest, taking its warmth into his body. Taking in whatever he could take from you between his skin and yours. Your scent, your heat, your touch, the friction, sensation - everything. He knows he wants everything but how about you? He sometimes thinks that he forced you into the relationship, going above and beyond to go with how he handles things. His fussy attitude when it comes to cleaning, being in crowds, and towards people in general. Whatever the train of thought was, he needs to know, He can’t bear seeing his future bland and monotonous because you were not there. You were his yellow, heck, you were his entire spectrum.

“Hey y/n, I know it's not a good time to ask this but, did I do something that makes you uncomfortable? I know I’m not good with words or being affectionate, doing all those sweet things that you see in movies but the last thing I want you to be is forcing yourself to be something that you are not.

“If there’s anything wrong that I did please tell me I…”.

“No! You did nothing wrong. You were perfect but maybe too perfect. I have this feeling that you weren't being yourself for quite some time. It's like you have this mask that you put on whenever you are with me. I know you are sensitive in nature - both to other people and towards yourself, which is why I fell in love with but aren't relationships supposed to be a two-way thing? I need to know what’s bothering you so please talk to me. I want you to feel safe with me. I want you to be your most comfortable as if both of us are the only ones that are living on this earth. I wish I could come and talk to you sooner about this but I got too caught up in the games. It's my fault. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be braver on confronting things like these. I’ll try to be more attentive to the small things”

Hearing this from Sakusa made your heart burst into so many emotions that were buried for so long. Happy, sad, hopeless, desperation, anger, guilt but most importantly, longing. You could only cry when he finished his last words. You were gasping for air, clawing yourself into Sakusa’s shoulders to grip on whatever you can. Wet streams trickled down Sakusa’s nape, dampening them. Sakusa was flustered as if it was the first time he ever saw you broke down. The first time? Oh God, how much has he been missing in this relationship...

“I’m sorry Omi. I was trying to be understanding. I tried to make this home at least a space where you can have at least some peace. I wanted to be with you more so badly but I know by asking it, you have to take time off or you might just think I'm annoying. And I hate it. Words cut more for me since it is the least effort to bring out but weighs the most. I don't think I can bear with it. So I avoided it. I avoid creating any chances that would lead us to fight. But then, it hit me when you started to slip away, distancing yourself subtly. Our dinner time became shorter, we didn't even cuddle anymore because your muscles were sore and I want them to heal fast so you can play your best. It seems like it backfired huh?”

Sakusa was taken aback due to a lot of things. How he finally was able to hear you say his pet name, the range of small things that you do, putting him as your topmost priority when you yourself are buried down, succumbing to earth more and more. How could he be so blind? It hurts him. It hurts him that you didn't even consider being comfortable with him. It destroys him that all of your actions were threaded with the thoughts of him when he did nothing, even worse, he forgot. Sakusa felt a sting poking through his heart, thin-like rods thrusting through it slowly. He felt a burning sensation that he was sure he didn’t like. If he felt this after hearing all of these, what about you? You’ve been carrying these for weeks, stretching out to months, yet you’re still here. How did he end up with someone as thoughtful and wonderful as you? He turned his body around, facing you. Your legs tangling together, bringing you inside his embrace, pushing your foreheads together. He lets out a breath after his thoughts finally reach a verdict.

“Hey bub, it’s okay. We’re here now. I’m sorry it took my dumbass this long to have this conversation. You don’t know how much you meant to me even though I barely show it. Please know that at least. I love you. I love you so much, too much that I cannot imagine waking up the next day without you. You were the reason I can handle Atsumu’s ass, thinking about if I can go through that part of the day, I can see you again. A little reward from me to myself. I asked for a few days off, shall we do a bit of catching up session?”

A tint of coral pink brushes lightly on top of your cheeks. Seeing Sakusa being all vulnerable and open, is a view that you wish no one will ever see besides you. You smiled and chuckled lightly.

Sakusa's heart swells. There it is. The smile that got him smitten all over. The small chuckle that you made was a symphony to his ears. It was as if at this moment he fell in love again. He found the you that he fell for but even deeper. He swore that day he would never make you feel like this.

You both get out, drying yourself together. Omi blow-dried your hair and you did his. He's pretty good at managing your hair because of his curls. You both did a random 14-step Korean skincare routine and cuddling around watching your favorite movie - Pride and Prejudice. Sakusa never understood why you liked this movie so much but today he finally does. When two lovers placed down their masks and finally faced each other, all became visible. The adoration in one's eyes, longing for the warmth of the other, to finally be together.

[twistedmusings]

AHHHH IM NOT LATE RIGHT??? RIGHT?? 🗿🗿🗿 can I request pretty please with cherry on top for Jade with the angst prompt “Shame on myself for believing you in the first place.” cause i love to hurt myself AHAHA BARK BARK GRRR THANK YOUU AND CONGRATS *sending hugs and kiths*

A/N: The writer would like to apologize since I kinda did change the wording a bit but solely cause I wanted to make this sad for BOTH parties. Hopefully the angst paid off u wu 

Jade Leech 

“Do I just place them in a bucket or can they grow on a log?” 

Jade chuckles as he takes your hand, guiding your wrist towards a small spore. 

“I think a terrarium would best, Prefect. Mushrooms always need room to grow and if you give them too little a space they may start to die.” 

He smiles when he sees your worried look towards the one you had just sliced off from his collection, jotting down the tip that he had given you on the pad of paper on the table. It was rather nice to see the page filled with your handwriting, each line talking about the proper way to take care of a mushroom. 

How much water to give it. 

The humidity they needed to be grown in. 

How many you could grow in one terrarium. 

The vice dorm leader felt a sense of pride as he watched you listen closely, taking his time in explaining each process so that he could see the way your eyes would shine as you saw just how alive these things were. This sort of thing was exciting for him too, he didn’t expect you to come up to him one day and ask if he could teach you how to grow mushrooms but he had been more than eager to let you in on his little hobby. 

It was a good way to spend more time with you anyway. 

Jade wanted to say he hated the way he would stare at himself in the reflection of the windows in the greenhouse, fixing his hair a little before looking at you when you asked another question. He didn’t necessarily care too much about his appearance before but with the way you would stare at him and compliment whatever happened to catch your eye, Jade would feel a familiar curiosity wash over him and he wondered just what you would say about him the next time you two meet. 

Your eyes became more discerning the more you two spent time together and the curiosity turned to happiness as you two sought out more ways to hang out with each other. 

Which was good for him, it gave him the excuse to see your crush on him growing day by day. 

You weren’t exactly the best at hiding your feelings. 

Still, that was a rather endearing trait about you. He liked the way you were so open about stuff with him despite your first meeting. You didn’t view him as the scary Leech twin but just as Jade Leech, the eel merman who happened to have a penchant towards growing mushrooms and going on wilderness hikes. 

Maybe it was because he had shown you a side of himself that others didn’t see that made you fall for him. 

Not that he was complaining, in fact, he blamed himself for letting these feelings inside of you grow. 

Jade wouldn’t stop them, didn’t want to stop them. He wanted to be the first thought you had in the morning and the last thought you had at night. The way your cheeks burned the first time he grazed your hand, he wanted that burning sensation to stay with you always whenever he was close by. 

He wanted you to think about him and him only and could say with great assurance that it was highly likely that you thought this way about him already...

But you couldn’t promise anything. 

Despite how you two could talk for hours, despite how you many secrets or inside jokes you shared, you wouldn’t be able to promise anything. 

You weren’t from around here. 

The story of the Little Mermaid aside, the one difference between you and him was the one thing that he knew would most likely kill whatever relationship the two of you could have. Land and sea could be easy to overcome, once Jade was dedicated to something he would see it through. 

And he was more than ready to be dedicated to you. 

But two different worlds...

“Uhm. Jade?” 

Your voice calls him back to the present, Jade giving you a smile and asking what you needed help with. Yet you shook your head and pushed the notepad away, taking a deep breathe as you turned to face him with a determined look on your face. 

“I--Thank you so much for showing me all of this.” 

“It’s been a pleasure.” he replies. 

“I know its not easy teaching me the proper way of doing this and we don’t know if these kinds of mushrooms would even grow where I am from but--I still want to try!” you inch closer to him, “I want it to be like a memento from my time here...with you.” 

Your hand rests close to his. 

“So...” you laugh but there is no joy behind your eyes, just worry, “I just...I know there is still no way for me getting back home and I don’t know when I will even be able to go back home but I was thinking that maybe with the time we have now, we could--” 

The sound of the fairies in the garden grows quiet as Jade presses his lips against yours, the sound of your nails delicately scraping the wood as you clenched your first far too loud now that all your senses had been heightened. Your eyes were still open, why were your hands still at your sides! Just wrap them---

Jade pulls away before you can make your move, smiling as he cups your cheek with one hand. 

“You shouldn’t tempt me with your offer, Prefect. Despite how much I want to spend my time with you in a different context...a part of me feels that I might do something rash once it is time for you to go home.”

He knew himself, if he got you in the way he wanted you then he wouldn’t dare let you go. It was his first love and to lose it in such a way...well he wouldn’t allow himself to lose it in the first place. 

“But we could do something! Text! Calling! I just...” you press his hand closer to your face, pressing your mouth on it so that he could feel your lips on his fingers, “I just like you so much it hurts...” 

Praise be to the Sea Witch that he was keeping himself in check when all he wanted to do was just take you in his arms once again.  “Prefect...” he whispers as he brings you closer, wrapping his arms around you as a sob finally breaks free from you, “It would be a shame on myself I believed you in the first place...if I believed that this could work...” 

“It can--!” 

The way those words left your throat let Jade know that even you didn’t believe that. You were smart, you knew that the moment you went back there would be no way to get you back...back to him. 

So all he could do was hold you close as you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and adorning it with your tears. It was the least he could let you do for letting these feelings grow inside of you.

He should have stopped them from the beginning. 

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 1)

Chapter Summary: The first encounter.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 5.2k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, one night stand for now, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) sex deprived reader, multiple orgasms, boytoy!Bucky.

A/N: I can’t express how much I appreciate the awesome feedback the prologue received. I wasn’t able to reblog all the comments, but I do read them all and I can’t believe how kind you all are. I really hope I can keep up with your expectations. The link to my masterlist is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. @lesqui​ I love you.

Prologue Here. 

 “Bucky Barnes?” you squeal after the air got caught in your throat, “You mean The Bucky Barnes?” Leaning forward and lowering your voice, you check if you’ve heard correctly, “Are you out of your freaking mind?”

“You’ve talked to him before, right?” Natasha frowns as if she’s trying to collect the information from her memory.

“Yeah, I mean, I usually see him at the Tower when I go see you and in almost all of Tony’s parties and all. He talked with Eddie and I once, he seemed pretty interested in our work with technology,” you say, remembering the occasion and all the enthusiastic questions he had made, right before disappearing from the party with a beautiful brunette on his arm. It had caught your attention how the super soldier seemed such a tech geek, but that’s the closest interaction you had with him.  

“I don’t think your extensive knowledge was his only interest, though.” The smile twisting Nat’s lips can only be described as cheeky.

You side eye her, identifying her suggestions but not quite buying it. She must be going bananas to suggest Bucky Barnes could be the guy to help you with your… situation. You barely know the guy outside sharing the same space a few occasions and what you’ve heard of his public figure. Not to mention that, the times you’d seen him on social events he always had a couple of women on his neck.  

“He’s an attractive man, you can’t deny that.” Natasha declares , rolling some pasta on her fork.

“Are you kidding me?” you scoff, “He’s hot as fuck, you can hear the sound of pants dropping when he passes by our department, he just loses to Thor- you should see what happens there when people just hear he’s around.” Your eyes go bigger for a second, making Nat chuckle, “Yeah, Bucky Barnes is  fucking hot and that’s why he’s way out of my league.”

“Hmm,” Nat tightens her lips and grabs her glass of water as she leans back on her seat, “That’s not what I heard in his voice when he asked about you this morning.” She peeks at you from under her eyelashes as she drinks from her water.

“What?”

“Well.” She grabs the knapping to pat it over her lips, “I said I was having lunch with you and he asked if you were still dating Eddie… in a very not he’s out of your league way.” She mockingly mimics your voice before smirking at you. 

You can feel the rush of heat creeping up from your chest to your neck, but you shake your hand, dismissing the suggestion on her comment, “I’m sure that means nothing and besides, no matter how horny I am, I’m not ready to get romantically involved with anyone else right now, that’s not I want.”

A loud and nearly hysterical laugh bursts out of Natasha’s lips. Placing both her hands on her belly her head falls back. Not finding what you could have said that was so funny you just lift a brown, staring at her.

“Honey,” she says when she finally stops laughing, keeping a huge smile on her lips, “You’re safe with him, I swear.” She raises a hand in a promising gesture, “Romancing you is the last thing on his mind. And if it’s not what you want either, if you’re looking for a no strings attached thing, Bucky will be more than happy to be your boytoy.”

The heat which started on your chest rushes to your cheeks when you let out an embarrassed giggle at her word choice, “Jesus, Nat…”

“That’s the truth,” she assures, “Let me put it this way,” Nat adds, leaning closer and gesturing for you to do the same, “If it’s a good fuck you’re in need of, he’s quite… let’s say…” she purses her lips , searching for the word, “Suitable… for the mission.” She bites her lower lip and winks. “I can guarantee you that.”

Your jaw drops at the confession, “Shut up.” A guttural tone comes out in your voice.  

There’s nothing but smugness on her demeanor as she leans back, “A few months ago, he and I needed a distraction after a mission…” She shrugs, “Listen, don’t ever tell him I said that but the guy knows what he’s doing. That sinful tongue of his? Ugh, should be illegal…the best goddamn orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. And he was never weird or anything about it later, I gotta give him that.”

You can’t believe you don’t see a single trace of pink on Nat’s face as she tells you all of that…and you? You have no dignity. No self-control, anymore. You sure hope Nat doesn’t notice as you can’t help but brushing your thighs together. You were a lost cause when she mentioned the illegality of his tongue. That was a particularly  hard no of Eddie and so help you God if you’re not turned on as hell right now by just thinking of the possibilities. You’re not blind or stupid. Bucky Barnes would be a dream guy to have in your bed, and if Nat says he might be interested and is on the same page as you are... 

“How could we arrange that?” Your voice comes out a little too breathless.

Nat lets out a knowing chuckle, “Leave it to me.”

~~~

When Natasha asked where you wanted to first meet him you mentioned one of your favorite restaurants. You figured a public and neutral place would be fitting in case you decided to flee out of the situation for any given reason. After all, it would be your first encounter with another man other than Eddie after ten years and you thought going slow and gentle with yourself would be the right move.

That’s what you thought…

Now, having the guy in front of you across the table, his attention apparently focused on the menu on his hands looking like a goddamn God of sex… a public place is the last place you wanted to be.

You’re not sure if he notices you staring from above your menu as his eyes casually roam through his, but you don’t even care. You had seen him up close before and you always knew how hot he was, but now…  with the prospect of what may happen tonight, it seems like all your senses are enhanced when it comes to him.  

He had arrived a bit later than the scheduled time but you let that one go once you got glimpses of a disconcerting wide smile adorned by the five o’clock shadow on his face, which seemed especially designed to make women – and men- swoon. He’s wearing dark jeans and a blue t-shirt and you wonder how he can make the simple outfit so damn sexy. His fairly long hair is tied back in a low bun and you had to hold back the impulse to pull it back and grab a handful of his locks.

When he shook your hand you swallowed back a whine at the feel of his strength, wondering how it would be the feeling of his broad arms around you… by the tiniest of smirks on his lips maybe you’re not sure whether you succeeded in disguising  that one.

He’s been a gentleman so far. Making conversation – with the sexiest voice you’ve ever heard- in such a natural and spontaneous way. You’re not sure what Natasha had told him beforehand exactly, but not for a minute he’s made you feel embarrassed by any chance and the scratch inside you only grew… desperate for his touch.  

“Hmmm,” The sound coming out of his lips purrs into your ears and it hits straight to your core as he keeps his eyes on the menu. You sulk in a breath, “So many delicious treats…Can’t figure out what I want…” He slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours and you don’t know if it’s your horniness speaking but all you see there is a mischievous dark shade, “What do you want?” He darts his tongue out to wet his lips and that’s it.

“I want to get the hell out of here.” The honest answer comes out without giving you the chance to even think about it.

His eyes grow even darker and he immediately shuts the menu, dropping it on the table, “Your place or mine?”

~~~

The very moment you step into your living room, the boldness which had started to mold your attitude seems to lessen. You’re still horny as ever and still wish nothing but to be completely ruined by him, but the fact that you just brought him to the condo you bought with Eddie – the place where you had planned to live the rest of your life with him -  starts to weigh on your shoulders. Besides you’ve never been intimate with anyone else, you don’t even know where to start, what to do or say.

Gulping down the anxiety, you hold the door opened for him and he walks inside. The uber ride to your place had been just like the little time you spent together at the restaurant. Small talk, him being respectful and nice and that’s it. He still feels like a complete stranger to you, which he really is, and you’re not sure how to feel about it yet.

“Uh, do you want something to drink?” you ask passing by him towards the center table to drop your purse, trying not to show your nervousness into your voice, “A glass of wine, maybe?”

Your breath hitches as the heat of his body hovers your back, “Is that what you really want now?” His warm breath tickles your ear and goosebumps rush over your skin.  

“Ahm, D-did Natasha tell you about-” The rest of what you were about to say is swallowed by a sigh when you register the touch of his both hands on your hips. A light and simple touch and you can feel yourself already turning into jelly.

“She told me the situation, yeah.” Like he’s testing the waters, he circles his flesh arm around you, pulling you closer to his broad chest when you offer no resistance, “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Nuzzling into the crook of your neck he breathes in your scent.

Your head falls backwards into him and your legs shake. You’re incredibly turned on right now, just by the touch and proximity of him, you’re absolutely sure you won’t survive the night.  

“Are you nervous?” he asks gently.

“A-A bit yeah.” Your breathing accelerates as his lips graze upon your pulsing point and his hand plays with the fabric of your loose skirt right over your lower belly.  

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you answer a little too quickly and a little too loudly, “No…” you repeat yourself, making sure to sound a bit more confident as you place a hand over his and drag it down to the end of your skirt above your thigh. “I don’t want you to stop, Bucky,” you whisper, as you slide his hand under the fabric, bunching it on your way while you guide him to where you’re aching for whatever this night will bring.

Accepting your lead and your assurance, he hooks his hand under the lace of your underwear, coaxing out a gasp out of you as his touch eases between your folds, “Goddammit,” he breathes, softly moving his finger back and forth, “You’re wet already, beautiful. Is it all for me? Damn,” he curses under his breath, “You’re turning me fucking on.”

You answer him with a wanton moan as your eyes flutter shut, letting yourself drown in the expert movements between your legs.

“Try to not overthink anything… I know what you want…” As his finger teases over your clit, he whispers in your ear, “I want it, too.” When he kisses your neck down to your shoulder, you’re thankful for the metal grip on your waist or else you’ll be putty on the floor.

“Shit…” You bite your lip and while one of your hands reach behind to the nape of his neck, the other grabs the pulse of his hand which is leisurely playing with your pussy. Not to stop him, but to find some extra support to keep yourself up.

His chuckle reverberates through the skin of your neck, “Right now here’s what we’re going to do.” He drags his lips to your ear again, “I’m gonna make you cum, sweetheart.” Bucky shows his intention by sliding a finger inside you, holding you tightly when your knees buckle, “I’m gonna take the edge off and make you come on my fingers and then we see what comes next for us tonight.” He pulls you to him, pressing your ass to his hardness, “We don’t need to worry or plan anything… we’ll just let it happen, ok? Can you feel how much I want you tonight, sweetheart? Do you want me, too? Do you want me to make you come?” He punctuates every line by dragging his lips over your skin.

His words make you dizzy with a powerful and overwhelming desire burning you up from inside out… you let yourself sink into the pleasure building up inside your body and your answer is to circle your hips against him, in pace with the move of his finger inside you while his thumb plays with your clit.

“Hmm, that’s right… say it, sweetie, I wanna hear you…” He presses his thumb a little harder against your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes.” you cry, between hard breaths, “I want you to make me come… I want it so bad, please...”

He responds to your plea by quickening his strokes. The disappointment when he removes his middle finger from inside quickly vanishes when he focuses on your clit, working on the sensitive nub with the sole mission to make you come. Your core tightens and tightens and you’re a moaning mess in his hold, his hot breath on your neck making you lightheaded. You’re not gonna last long, and you’re torn between the desperate need to come and trying to focus and hold yourself back because it feels so goddamn good you don’t want it to end just yet. The heat of his body crowds you, making the whole world spin around you. As you moan and breathe out your pleasure, his hold and touch ruling your mind and body, the squelching sounds coming from the move of his fingers on your impossibly wet pussy invades your senses. 

“Fuck…listen to you, you’re so damn sexy.” He sucks on your pulsing point before brushing his soft tongue over the tender spot, “Come, sweetie, let go… I wanna feel you soaking my fingers even more.”

It all becomes delightfully too much, and a few more expert circles on your clit joined to the sensation of his teeth grasping your earlobe drive you to the edge. Like a puppet on his strings, you come. You’re not quiet when it happens and your whole body shakes with the shocks of pleasure, your thighs shutting on their own will around his hand. Once again he catches you when your body goes limp against his, whispering praising words to your ear. It’s a head to toe orgasm and it’s heaven inside your body. You realize you needed this even more than you knew…

But you need more and you want much more.

As soon as you feel the strength coming back to your legs, you tap his hand off of your underwear and turn around capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. You’ve been thinking about kissing those beautiful lips ever since you first laid your eyes on him that night and he doesn’t disappoint by kissing you back right away just as fiercely, while his hands roam through your body and his tongue seeks yours.

He starts walking you backwards and you take a hand off his neck to point the direction to your bedroom, to where he follows. He groans when you capture his lower lips between your teeth and grabs a handful of your ass. Dying to wrap your legs around him, you jump and he promptly catches you from under your thighs. It’s hard to think about parting your lips from his alluring ones and you don’t stop kissing him until you’re inside your bedroom and he parts from you, throwing you on your bed.

You yelp at the leap, which is far from delicate, and prop yourself on your elbows, watching as he takes off his shirt and tosses it to the side. It’s already a struggle to breathe but your situation worsens when you see his exposed abs and shoulders and arms and fucking muscular chest… You silently thank the heavens for your friendship with Natasha Romanoff. You can’t help but notice the scars by the metal arm, but he doesn’t seem worry in the slightest by having them exposed and fuck you if the attitude doesn’t turn you on even more.

He doesn’t wait long before jumping back on you. Having your skirt bunched up your hips you gladly welcome him between your legs kissing him with the same force from before and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. He groans when his tongue brushes against yours and you sigh through his lips as he starts rocking his hips against yours. Even through the fabric of his jeans and the lace of your underwear the touch brings sparks to your core as you feel the evident bulge grinding against you.

The cold of his metal hand hikes under the hem of your top, making the little hairs in your body rise on his way. You part from his lips just to pull up your top and throw it aside. You’re not sure how it happens but in a bat of an eye he reaches behind you and with an expert pull, he unfastens your bra. The piece of underwear is all of a sudden out of you, baring your chest for him.

You gasp in awe for his skills and he smirks, “I really needed to see those titties,” he smiles. When his eyes drop to your chest, he inhales sharply, “Fucking gorgeous.”

You’re sure you had something to say back to him, but the room soon fills up only with sounds of your hard breathing as he wraps his warm mouth around a breast sucking on it harshly. While his tongue curls around your nipple his metal hand gives your other breast some attention, massaging it with the perfect amount of roughness.

Your hips buck into his hips, seeking more friction, to release you from the coiling ache in your core. You do what you’ve been wanting to do all night, pulling the tie from his hair and grabbing a handful of his locks as he ravishes your chest.

After taking his time on your breasts, having his fill of sucking, nibbling and grabbing them, he drags his lips up your neck till it stops on your ear, “What do you want? I’ll do whatever you want...” He offers.  

You’re still quite a bit distracted by the rock of his hips against yours to fully register what he’s so sultry whispering in your ear, grazing your hands down the burly muscles on his back. He feels so big, so strong in your arms…

“Tell me, sweetheart, tell me what you want.” he purrs into your ear.

When he offers again, his sinful tongue doing wonders on your neck, a thought sweeps into your mind… By experience, you know men don’t enjoy that very much, but Bucky seems willing to please and odds are you won’t see him again after tonight… Yeah, why the hell not… “I-I want you to-to eat me out.” It blurts out of your lips before any kind of self-consciousness strikes your resolve.

The grinding of his hips halts and you’re already bracing yourself to see his disgusted expression when he moves his lips away from your jaw and leans back to stare down at you. But what you see instead makes your stomach flip in the most delicious way. His blue eyes are impossibly dark and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, like he’s about to eat a delicious treat.

After placing his lips on yours briefly, he makes his descent, showering your chest and stomach with warm and wet opened mouth kisses. Your heart beats fast when an up till now unknown sensation invades your chest, making it tingle with excitement and anticipation. He brushes his nose over the lace of the underwear you’ve specially bought for the occasion, right above your mound. Your breath catches in your throat when he places a long and chaste kiss upon it.

He didn’t really seem to care about your brand new underwear as he’s quick to drag it down. You raise your legs to help him out before he tosses it aside, keeping his eyes on your exposed pussy as he gets down from the bed. You gasp when he pulls your legs bringing you close to edge of the mattress as he sinks on his knees on the floor, hooded eyes on your spread pussy right before his face. This is definitely the most exposed you’ve ever been to a man – your boyfriend of ten years included- and it turns you on even more than it should.   

You’re aware of how wet you are, and the smell of your arousal is strong enough to fill your own nostrils... You should be embarrassed, you know you should and definitely thought you would be, to be in a situation like that with a man you barely know, but that’s definitely not the case as enticing, aching sparks twirl inside you.

As you fist the sheets on each side of you, the time seems to freeze as you long for what’s to come. He, on the other hand, doesn’t seem worried about time, as he ghosts his fingers on both your inner thighs. The light touches- one cold the other warm- makes you shudder and… ticklish. You bite back a laugh but it doesn’t slip from his attention.

“Tickles, sweetheart?” He chuckles against the soft skin of our inner thigh, causing his voice to reverberate through your skin, not to mention the light scratch of his stubble and you just can’t hold back anymore.

You cover your mouth with both hands as the giggles slip out unbidden. It seems to amuse him while he keeps sliding his fingers and his lips over the little spots, a sweet torment that makes you laugh harder and squirm your legs. 

“Plea- Oh, fuck.” Your voice – and the giggles- die in a gasp and your back arches as he engulfs your whole pussy with his mouth with no warning.

The warm sensation is new and overwhelming and your first reflex is to try and pull away from it but he’s faster, wrapping his arms around your thighs, holding you still to his face. He delves his tongue in caressing your most sensitive parts and it feels soft and wet and silky. It tingles and you struggle to breathe as he meticulously swirls his tongue all over your pussy, spreading your juices around you and himself.

“Holy motherfucker,” you cry out and your eyes flutter shut and you once again arch your body because an intense and new pleasure covers every fiber of your pussy and rushes up your spine. Your fists twist the sheets harder as he swiftly laps at you.

“Hummm,” the vibration makes your whole body tremble before Bucky tilts his head to nibble softly at your inner tigh, “You taste fucking amazing,” he adds, placing your legs over his shoulders.

The praise alone is enough to make you clench around nothing and if you thought it was good so far, after he dives in again it’s with a renewed hunger. He sucks and nibbles and properly fucks you with his tongue and lips, keeping you securely attached to his hold. You’re a mess. Your whole body reacts to the sensations, and you’re loud as you moan and gasp and he keeps your hips steady to his hold.

He swirls his tongue around your clit and you’re there. You’re almost there… your head sinks into the mattress and you dig your fingers into your hair, your ribs moving fast unashamedly grinding on his face at the rhythm of your breathing and you’re fucking there-

“What the-?” you groan, propping yourself on your elbows to look down. You see Bucky staring up at you, your arousal glistening on his jaw as he puts on a malicious smirk.

You’re about to protest about the lack of action but your mouth shuts when he sucks his fingers and brings them to tease your entrance before inserting them at once. The sudden intrusion makes your head fall back as you shout out a moan.  You prop your feet – or rather your heels which you still have on- on the mattress, letting your knees up as he curls his fingers inside, as if looking for something.

“Oh, shit,” you curse between harsh breaths when he finds the spot he’s been looking for. The sheet bunches in your fists and your head snaps up at him.

He keeps lustful blue eyes on you as he fucks you harshly and fast with his hand, making sure to brush his fingers right on the spot that makes you scream. Your moans fill up the room, mixing up with the squelching sounds of his hand in your pussy. Your eyes shut when it’s there again, that tight knot twisting your insides, the desperate need of release, to soak his hand once again.

“Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum- No!” you shout when he pulls back his hand. You shoot a look that you’re sure is nothing but pitiful at him, but he doesn’t deprive you for long as his lips are on your pussy again, humming at your taste once more.

His skilled tongue goes back on doing wonders coaxing shocks of pleasure in your core, his face deep into your pussy moving up and down, side to side. You can’t take your eyes off of him as he grabs one of your thighs with his metal hand and you grind your hips against his face, trying so desperately to hush your release.

But he’s in the mood to torture you. A sweet and maddening torment as he brings you to the edge and stops, alternating from fucking you with his fingers and then his tongue. At some point, when you’re already surrendered to his power, with his tongue flickering over your throbbing clit, he brings his flesh hand down his body. Since he’s kneeling by the edge of the bed, you have no vision of it, but you listen to the sound of him unbuckling his belt. His tongue doesn’t stop as he brings his finger to your cunt, coating it in your juices before bringing his hand down again.  

Your skin burns and all the air isn’t enough to fill up your lungs as you realize by the movements of his arm that he’s touching himself. He’s getting himself off while eating your pussy and you’re sure you’ve never seen or felt anything so hot in your whole life. You just wish you could get a glimpse of his cock.

With everything he’s doing to you and the fact you’ve been on the edge for a while, the addition of the thought of his cock in his hand is more than you can take and this time it comes unannounced. Incoherent sounds you never knew you were able to produce slip out of you as strong spirals of pleasure burst from your pussy, rushing up your spine and down your legs, curling your toes and turning you into a trembling loud mess, completely at mercy of the buzzing ecstasy invading all of your senses.  

“Holy fuck!” Your body jerks up with aftershocks of your climax but he’s not having it and keeps you steady to his hold, licking up your sensitive pussy and rushing up his hand on him, “Oh, shit, oh fuck, shit, shit, shit.” Your mind blacks out and you scream unashamedly and your body collapses to the mattress as he drives you to yet another powerful orgasm with his tongue.

From your blurry vision, you spot his arm jerking even faster and he rests his head on your thigh. With eyes closed and biting his sinful lips- coated in your pleasure- he grunts his own release.

You both stay like that for awhile. You sprawled on your bed relishing in your own little paradise while he rests against your thigh, both trying to calm down your breathing. You’re completely spent, the pant up energy in you being drained by the three outstanding orgasms he had given you that night.

You feel your eyes fluttering, fighting against sleep, and in a blur, you see Bucky getting up and moving around, you don’t fully register what he’s doing but you know he gets in and out of the bathroom a few times, seems to clean the floor with toilet paper and fumbles with his clothes. You roll your numb and contented body to the side, seeking a comfort position to enjoy the full state of bliss you’re in.

“Are you alright?” He gets closer to you, bending over the side of your bed he reaches to cup your cheek and hands you a glass of water. You hadn’t even seen when he went to the kitchen. “Did you have fun?”

A lazy but fulfilled smile spreads in your face as you incline yourself just enough to drink from the water, gulping it down to the last drop, “Oh, yeah…I’m fabulous.” Your heavy eyes drop to his jeans to see it fully clothed and his jeans zipped up. You realize you’re incredibly satisfied and didn’t even get to see his cock or actually do anything per se, “Ahm, do you want to-”

“Shhh, don’t worry...I had an amazing time, tonight,” His voice is gentle and soft, grinning back at you. 

To be honest, you’re kinda relieved by his answer. You’re so damn relaxed right now you’re not sure you would have the energy to do anything else, no matter how enticing the thought sounds. 

“Do you need anything else?” he asks, taking the empty glass from your hand. 

You shake your head, still smiling at him. 

“Alright, sweetheart...I’m gonna go then. You rest now and whenever you need me, will you call me?”

“Fuck yeah.” You breathe out, collapsing on the bed again, trying to keep your eyes opened.

He chuckles at your quick answer, “It’s a deal?” He leans over your earlobe and bites softly on it, making you shrug and let out a small giggle.

“It’s a deal.” you murmur back, nodding slowly before dozing off with the lazy smile still on your face. 

~~~

[sxfik]

you're the sunshine in the rain when it's pouring (won't you give yourself to me?)

read on ao3 • masterlist

summary: Kang Sol A was not afraid, she wasn’t built to be afraid. But what else could you call the pang that rippled through her heart as she noticed the two figures huddled at the cafe near the entrance of her school?

a/n: hello! this is my first solhwi fic i've written and if i'm being honest, it's kind of a mess but i have so many ideas for them, especially after these last few episodes! honestly, the two of them are the epitome of idiots to lovers so i just had to write this! the title of this fic is from best part by Daniel Ceasar ft. H. E. R.

come interact or drop a request if you want to see more solhwi content :)

Kang Sol A was not afraid.

She wasn’t afraid during her yearly doctor’s appointment, the glint of the long needle threatening to pierce through her. She wasn’t afraid when she stood up for her sisters, time and time again, until she was beaten and bruised protecting them. In the face of any adversity, she was taught to stand strong and fight, no matter how big or small the enemy. Even at the face of losing her scholarship and being expelled from Hankuk Law School, she knew she could pull herself up.

No, Kang Sol A was not afraid, she wasn’t built to be afraid. But what else could you call the pang that rippled through her heart as she noticed the two figures huddled at the cafe near the entrance of her school?

It’s been a week since Ye Seul’s trial, five days since the incident, and four days since she started avoiding Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam, Han Joon Hwi.

His presence was bearable prior to Ye Seul’s trial. Actually, more than bearable. It was a comfort, a person she knew she could let her guard down with. His teasing smiles or his love for ramen at any time of day.  As her days and her mind got busier day by day, his presence was unyielding. Every late night in the library, he was by her side, explaining the codes over and over again. Even when she got frustrated, or whiny, Joon Hwi was infinitely patient with her. With Joon Hwi by her side, everything seemed so easy. She saw the light at the end of the long tunnel she was dragged through. Still, with Kang Dan’s sudden appearance, Mr. Yang and Ye Seul’s trial, her mind was too busy to think clearly. To see clearly.

But when his gaze shifted to her and her roommate when he stood as a witness during Ye-Seul’s trial, her breath caught in her throat as she imagined, just for a moment, that he was going to say her name. That he was looking at her. That he was in love with her.

It was as if something clicked, like the puzzle pieces coming together in her mind. In an instant, she saw him in such clarity, every action, every smile and gesture passing through her mind. Cliche as it seems, it was as if she saw him for the first time all over again.

But of course, that gaze was not meant for her. Why would it be? Han Joon Hwi was meant to be with Sol B, not her. The students who were born to work with the law are perfectly suited for each other. It was obvious that he wanted to protect Sol B. Yet, in her weakest moment, her heart yearned for it to be her.

Forcing herself to breathe, she continued on after the trial as if nothing had changed between them. Because, well, they haven’t. The view had shifted but only for her.  At first, it was easier than she expected, teasing him about her roommate. Sol would be lying if she said it didn’t come with a twinge of jealousy but what could she do, but continue to be loyal to him. So on she continued, with Joon Hwi blissfully unaware that she was falling deeper for him, day by day.

Of course, nothing ever goes her way. Five nights ago, Sol was seated at her usual desk at the library, the rows of desks unoccupied. It was another late night for her, as she poured over her case files for a quiz the next day. Despite being a breeze for the other students, Sol had to study for a 110% in order to score an 80%. Sol set up camp in the library, her texts haphazardly strewed across the desk, highlighter in hand, as she buckled down for a long night of studying.

As the hours passed, her vision slowly blurred, the words on the page meshing together into a blob of black squiggles. She blinked, forcing her eyes to focus but to no avail. Sighing, she shut her eyes as she slumped back into her chair, allowing her head to loll off the edge of her chair and stretching her arms out.

“Still studying?” Joon Hwi’s familiar voice startled her, her head jerking back and almost tipping her chair backwards. “Whoa, Sol, be careful!” he lunged, catching her chair before she had the chance to stabilize herself.

“Yah, Han Joon Hwi, why would you come up suddenly like that?” Sol wrinkled her nose at him in annoyance, getting a teasing smirk in response. Sol turned towards her desk, pulling herself closer to the desk as he looked over her.

“Are you studying for Professor Jung’s quiz tomorrow?” he questioned, his head tilting in a familiar way as she sighed once more.

“Of course I am. Not all of us are law geniuses like you, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam,” Sol huffed as she looked up at him but she softened her face as she saw the smile on his face.

Joon Hwi let out a small laugh as he stepped closer to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. “Well, then I’d be more than qualified to help, don’t you think, sunbae?” he quipped back.

“Hey, I can do it myse-”

“Hm, let me see,”  he cut her off, his eyebrows furrowed. Her heart stuttered as he leaned forward, over her shoulder, looking onto the texts that lay in front of her. “Oh, this one isn’t as bad as the others, you should start with this and then…” he rambled on, but every once of her concentration was on his proximity. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder bleed through her shirt, the feel of his palm burning her skin. He was close enough that she could hear the soft puffs of his breath, his warmth radiating off his body pulling her body towards him like a magnet.

It’s okay, just breathe. You know how to breathe right, Sol? She slowly instructed herself on how to breathe like she suddenly had to learn all over again. And wow, was that a bad idea. His cologne is even more intoxicating up close, and so is Joon Hwi. Every one of her senses was overloaded, her mind blank save for him.

“Yah, Kang Sol? You better be paying atten-” he turned his head towards her, and she forgot how to breathe all over again. His brown eyes widened in surprise as his face just centimeters away from hers. Sol parted her lips ever so slightly to speak but his gaze dropped her lips and her mind was blank again as she blinked at him. His features were so much softer up close, as she watched his face relax. His long eyelashes brushed against his cheek as he blinked. His eyes flitted back to her, but his familiar honey eyes darkened. Her eyes drifted over his face, and then dipped down to his soft lips. If she just moved closer, she could feel how soft his lips were...

And suddenly, reality slapped her in the face. What would Sol B think if she caught her boyfriend so close to her? Even with her roommate’s cold behavior, Sol knew just how much she suffered and how much it would break her to know how she felt about Joon Hwi. Despite every molecule in her body begging her to move closer, she couldn’t do that to Sol B.

So she moved away, stuttering out some lame excuse as she gathered her books and stumbled out of the library. But as she lay in her bedroom, staring up at the ceiling as she imagined all that could have happened between them, the warmth of the memory spread across her body.

And Kang Sol A knew that she wasn’t just afraid. She was terrified.

When she couldn’t stand and fight, she did the next best thing. She ran. She intricately planned everyday to minimize her contact with him as much as possible. Obviously, step one was to sit away from him in class, to avoid his gaze in the halls. She would leave her dorm as early as possible and hide until he was finished with his dinner to sneak in and grab herself something.

But it wasn’t until she tried to avoid him that she realized just how much space in her life was occupied by him. He used to always sit next to or across from her. Always looking over her shoulder, or leaning over  to see the textbooks clearly. Every time she turned to ask a question, or make a snarky comment, there was an empty space reminding her of her decision.

Still, even if he wasn’t physically present, he occupied a corner in her mind. His voice was in her head, echoing responses to her every thought. Her mind would fill with things she wanted to rant about, to ask, to share with him. When she closes her eyes at night and drifts into sleep, he would be there, his signature teasing smile on his face.

And he didn’t seem to be making it any easier on her. It seemed that Joon Hwi took it upon himself to magically appear whenever she least expected him to. If she went to the copy room to print a case file, he was sitting there, looking through a stack of papers or in line to print a copy himself. If she decides to have a late night study session, there he is across from her, books in hand with his legs propped up on a table.

Han Joon Hwi was the constant, unavoidable presence that she can’t seem to get rid of from her life. From her mind. From her heart.

“Unnie?” a soft voice snapped Kang Sol out of her thoughts, and Ye Seul appeared in front of her, near the entrance. How long have I stood here? Sol blinked.

“Ah, Ye-Seul,” she smiled at her best friend. “Let’s have some coffee today? At the cafe?” she asked, her shoulders relaxing after flitting up to where Joon Hwi and Kang Sol B stood. Well, where they were standing. I guess they left. Ye Seul’s eyebrows furrowed as she followed Sol’s gaze but before she could respond, Sol A hooked an elbow through hers, dragging her toward the cafe.

But of course, nothing ever goes her way.

“Ah, Ye-Seul, can I borrow Kang Sol for a moment?” Joon Hwi asked, suddenly appearing in their path, his eyes strictly focused on her best friend. Sol squeezed her arm in alarm, everything in her body pleading for Ye-Seul to say no so she can just avoid him until her crush fades away.

“Unnie, buy me the coffee next time, hm?” Ye-Seul turned to her with an apologetic gaze. Betrayal. I’ll get you back for this. Sol A sighed as she turned her gaze to Joon Hwi.

“Yah, Sol, why are you avoiding me like this? Please, just talk to me so we can fix it,” he pleaded with her, wasting no time to get to the point. Sol A pursed her lips as she looked up at him, her mind too full for her to answer him. What could she say to him? That she likes him? That she’s found out how much she needs him in her life, but she was too late?

“Sol, please,” his voice broke slightly as the silence stretched between them but that was enough for her to sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she gave in to him.

“Okay,” she responded and that was all Joon Hwi needed to grab her wrist and walk towards the corridor between the stairwells.

“We can talk more privately,” he answered her before she even voiced the question. “Now, why are you mad at me? The last time I saw you was at the library and then you disappeared,” Joon hwi ran a hand through his hair nervously as he rambled on and for the first time, Kang Sol took him in. To say he was disheveled was an understatement. The usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be seen and his clothes were askew as his face showed the lack of sleep and exhaustion. Her heart clenched for him, but no, you can’t do this. You can’t betray Sol B.

“Don’t you think it’s best if we don’t interact with how we used to?” she asked, her eyes glued to the floor, ignoring her throat closing up at the thought of breaking their friendship.

“What?” his eyes zeroed in on her, and she could see the confusion running through his mind.

“What do you think Sol B would think if she saw us like this? We can’t be close like this with each other bec-”

“Who cares about how I am with you?” he cut her off, his jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrow in frustration.

“Ya Han Joon Hwi, how could you do this? I expected so much better from you. Don’t you understand, it’s terrible to do this to her!” she pleaded with him, her heart squeezing inside her chest. Sol clenched her jaw, willing herself to be strong for her roommate’s sake, for his sake, and for hers.

Silence stretched between them as she looked up to him. His eyes closed for a moment while he looked down to the floor. And then his eyes flitted up and into her eyes as his fist clenched, his brown eyes filling with an unreadable emotion. “Why is it so terrible?” he whispered.

“Why-” Sol started, her voice burning in anger and pain.

“Why is it so terrible that I’m in love with you?” Joon hwi’s eyes flickered up to hers, his gaze boring into her.

Kang Sol blinked. Her back straightened as her mouth opened and closed like a fish, as Joon Hwi took a step closer. “Me?” she stuttered out, her mind spinning, unable to process his words.

“You.” He stepped closer.

“But you like Kang Sol-”

“A. Kang Sol A.” Another step closer.

She closed her eyes as she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and to ignore his proximity. But all her attempts were futile as Joon Hwi brought his hand up, his touch feather light as he cupped her face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. Sol’s hands felt frozen as her breath lodged into her throat, her eyes meeting his. She could hear her heart thundering in her ribcage as Joon hwi spoke.

“I like you, Kang Sol. It’s always been you,” he whispered, his voice wavering as he grew closer, his lips just a centimeter away from hers. Never one with patience, she surged forward to meet his lips. Her imagination and dreams did not compare to how his lips felt against hers. It was soft and his kisses were just as unyielding as his presence. It was all consuming as her hands gripped his coat, pulling him closer. His thumb running across her cheekbones, he shifted his head pulling her in deeper as his hands cupped her face. Even though their lips just met for a few moments, it felt as though his soft lips were against hers for an eternity.

Sol’s eyes were still closed as they parted, not wishing to leave this moment and back into real life. Apprehensively, she met his eyes and a moment of silence stretched between them, as they caught their breath. A million watt smile stretched across his face, his contagious happiness brightening her up as she smiled back. But suddenly reality caught up to her.

“Wait, so you’re not with my roommate?” she questioned, confused about everything she had seen between them. Joon hwi shook his head.

“No, I was just with her because she asked for help during one of her legal research papers,” he explained, then paused. “Yah, wait. You avoided me this whole time because you thought I was in love with Kang Sol B?” a smirk spread across his face, his expression taunting. Sol bit her lip as she looked down, unwilling to admit her mistake.

“Yah, how can you be at law school and not figure out I liked you!” he asked, his voice incredulous.

“You were so ambiguous! Every time I thought you liked me as more than friends, you’d act close with Sol B!” she huffed out, pouting  and pulling away from him, embarrassed that she thought he liked her roommate. Before she could pull away, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a crushing hug. Her body relaxed as she took him in, the way he felt against her intoxicating and comforting beyond description.

Kang Sol A was terrified. But having him at her side was enough to know that she could fight once more, together, as more than friends.

[angelguk]

→ bad behaviour 03 — a namjoon scenario

member: kim namjoon

word count: 7.5k

rating: 18+

genre: established relationship + smut + college!au 

warnings: we’re ovulating!!! / introduction to the breeding kink that will plague this couple forever / was meant 2 be a drabble?? im incapable we know that / eh big joon!!!! / manhandling kink / pet names used a lot / joon thinks he’s gf is dumb and wants to breed her idk man / size kink / crying when cumming / oc shy for once / discussion of twitter porn / creampie / oc is on birth control (obvs dont do this if u dont want a kid but this is a fanfic u know) / mentions of fisting porn / cock warming!! / if u see a typo no u dont

soundtracks: more than enough + morroco, alina baraz

prompt: “don’t you think there is always something unspoken between two people?” (Something Unspoken, Tennessee Williams).

It’s a rather serene Thursday afternoon, the late autumn breeze sweeping through the campus air. The stillness was ideal for studying, alluding to assignment deadlines creeping round the corner. Which was why your butt is firmly parked in the mess of Kim Namjoon's sheets.

The man in question is hunched in the corner of his dorm room, one large hand idly tugging at the chestnut mane on his head and his neck curved with attentiveness. You wish you possessed the determinate focus that he had, but your thoughts have a mind of their own, spiralling further into the darkest depths of your mind as they gingerly coax forth memories that spark a searing heat deep inside of you. You feel tight, drawn like the bow of an arrow, a stark contrast to the tranquillity spilling around you. The fact that Namjoon is practically naked isn’t helping your consciousness. Your gaze lingers on the rows of muscles lining his broad back, the tension running through them emphasising the dips and curves in his golden skin. His eyes, however, are glued to the myriad of words before him, the pen grasped in his grip swift as he scribbles down notes you know you’ll never be able to decipher. Not that you needed too, it was intriguing that such a put-together man like Namjoon had handwriting that essentially resembled chicken scratch. It was atrocious — but still elegant, very much embodying the person to whom the writing belonged to. You can’t recall what assignment he intended to complete today — something about the presentation of nihilism in Russian literature or whatever — but he’s devoted all his attention to it, meticulous in the numerous sticky notes and page markers that line the novel perched on his desk. It’s bent with the remembrance of his fingers, sepia-toned dogged-ear pages staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. Something blooms within you the longer you look at him, faint but strong like a tide shifting towards the shores. You don’t even register the slip of your laptop from your lap, legs sprawling open unconsciously. It spurs so quick you can’t even clamp down on it, the desire you have for the burly man bent over his world of words just a few steps away. But you know how much Namjoon values his academics. It’s with a muffled groan that you roll over, burrowing your face into his pillows in hopes that the wave will subside. It doesn't — crawling beneath your skin begging you to give in.

It’s the click of Namjoon’s pen that gets you, a sharp note that cuts through the burning of your body. Your thighs seal together, the slick that collects between your legs sticking to your core. With a sigh that you shift again, reaching out for your laptop. It’s best to look for a distraction, give him the space he needs to concentrate. At yet, your gaze can’t help but drift. He’s not covering an inch of skin, burly arms and thick thighs on display like he wants to tempt you. There are no words to describe how much you hate him —  nor how much you long to have him inside of you too.

You recall it with a jolt — the lave of his wide tongue against your folds, licking you apart with deft swift swipes that leave you weeping into his sheets more nights than you’d like to admit. You shuffle again, helpless to the yearnings of your mind. The heat on your inner thighs is a phantom. Namjoon likes to hold you down, press your hips into his sheets against the whims of your squirming. It’s the way he looks at you when you’re on the verge of tears, a wanton hunger in his eyes that unravels you fast. You can almost see it, thighs subconsciously nudging against each other. Then there’s the stretch of his fingers, larger than you own. He’s pushed you to the edge with just two of them before, persistent against that spot inside of you until he’s satisfied with the blissed slackness that descends upon your features. Then he’d add another, and another. There’s an undeclared thought between the two of you. You’ve noted the fisting porn in his Twitter bookmarks. Maybe one day you’ll have the guts to let him try.

For now, you swallow it down. Suffocate that longing until the embers burning within you smother to ashes. Your laptop returns to resting at an angle at your hip, gaze idling running through your readings. The words don’t sink in though, sitting on your skull before hastily floating away. There’s not much space for anything else but Namjoon at the moment, no matter how hard you try to reread the paragraphs or stare at your screen. You don’t even have to open the app on your phone to know what’s going on with your body. This is your first full ovulation with him. Usually, he’s preoccupied with assignments or TA responsibilities that cut your time together short, interrupting this part of your cycle and leaving you to your own devices. You hadn’t fully wormed your way into Namjoon’s life to demand all his attention just yet. This was still new, untested. Namjoon was independent and so sure of himself that telling your boyfriend that you needed him to stop focusing on his future to raw the crap out of you (multiple times) felt incredibly selfish.

You stare at the words in front of you until they swim, wishing you didn’t feel like this. Like you needed Namjoon to breathe. You can wait it out, maybe get what you’re dying for after post-studying cuddles and take-out. Even if it takes every ounce of your willpower to clasp your legs together and not jump the wonderfully large man that is your boyfriend.

Unbeknown to you, the same yearning that plagues you chips away at his resolve. A persistent want that wavers in the back of his mind, clamouring for attention, because even with his eyes stuck on the pages beneath him, he can sense your fidgeting.

Your attention span is incredibly short — Namjoon knows this. It ricochets off the walls even when you’re sitting still. It’s taken time, but Namjoon has gradually adjusted to it, muting the powerful waves of energy that radiate off of you when necessary. Today, however, is different. That energy he’s learnt to ignore eats him alive, sinking below his skin and leaving him buzzed as he scours his brain for any meaningful essay points. He keeps flipping through the pages of the novel, mind attempting and miserably failing to piece together a cohesive argument that correlates with the evidence he’s got highlighted in a loud neon yellow.

All because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He wants to blame it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you in a while (which is a blatant lie). Namjoon saw you two days ago. You were wearing that floral skirt that he loves, the fabric hiking up your thighs whenever you lined yourself against his side, snuggling deep into him like you never wanted to leave. He hates that skirt — hates it —  because now he can’t think of anything but it, thoughts blurring at the memory of your bare skin. Skin that he loves to mark, latch onto until violets and blues blossom. His mind is running before he can catch it, falling into a dangerous reminiscence of images that sit heavy in his gut. That stupid skirt flipped up your waist and his head between your thighs. Nothing feels as good as you do on his tongue. He loves the way you taste, the sounds that drift from your lips, the way your thighs twitch and tremor as you unravel underneath him. You get so loud when your high hits you. He knows his roommates have heard you before, but he truly doesn’t care. He loves hearing you scream his name, drives him to the brink of insanity if he’s being honest. Yet, it’s the way you look at him afterwards, a deliriousness swimming in your eyes that makes Namjoon want to keep you in his bed forever. Fuck you until you can’t walk without feeling him deep inside of you. Paint your skin so that everyone knows who you belong to.

His head hits the table with a muted thud, a low sighing escaping into the air. The tent in his loose shorts hurts. There’s a part of him that’s mortified — how could he get hard just from the thought of you when you're sitting right there on his bed? Perhaps it’s proof that you’ve invaded everything he is. His space, his heart, his mind.

“Namjoon?” You question, tone tentative in the silence that consumes him whole. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts. And then his brain settles, a tightness in his stomach that he can’t deny. “Actually, no I’m not.”

You don’t even have time to register it before he's moving towards you. It's as if he's flown from his desk, gliding through the space between you to firmly plant himself on top of you. Your laptop is knocked to the side, lost in the muss of his bed sheets as Namjoon moulds himself into you. You can't help the breathless giggle that hits the air. It's cut by the weight of Namjoon on you. He's heavy, all hard muscles and broad shoulders. Your fingertips slip against the fabric of his shirt — 100% pure cotton because he's fastidious like that — a lightness forming in your chest just from the feel of him in your hands. He sighs and you melt, losing yourself in him as he burrows his head into the hollow of your neck. The kiss he places there is soft, but it hits like a torrent of rain, drowning you harshly. Your body ignites like the flame you wanted to smother was never extinguished. You cling to him, the only thing keeping you afloat in the wave of adoration that crashes into you.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" You murmur, vibrating when he kisses you again. Namjoon hums in response, his wide hands shifting to settle on the back of your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart to nestle himself there. Your back jolts when you feel it — feel him. Hard and needy against your core, a heat radiating where you meet. The flutter in your eyes is automatic, brain shutting down when he rolls his hips. He nips your neck then, a light press of his teeth into the delicate skin. You stop breathing when he smothers the pain with a kiss, thoughts dissolving into the air as you stare at the ceiling of his dorm, thinking you're never going to let this man go.

"Namjoo—" His mouth is on you before you can even finish your sentence, swallowing the words with a gentle press of his lips until yours fall apart. Kissing him might be one of your favourite activities ever. He feels good against your lips, ginger but sure in how he works you open, drawing sighs from your throat like he was born to do so. It’s easy to give in, your hips moving against his and your fingers dragging through his hair. It’s with a soft gasp that you part, the air around you electric. His brown eyes are dark but they gaze at you with an adoration that makes your heart swell. There are moments where you feel it on the tip of your tongue, a proclamation that yearns to spill out. But it’s too early to say anything like that yet. So you draw him closer instead, the content laugh that floats from his throat caught in your mouth. This kiss is different, more desperate, a hope that he understands what you mean heavy in your chest. You think he does because he kisses you back with an intent that leaves you breathless, a heady thing that has you arching into him before it peters out into tender little pecks. Your heart is so full it could explode.

And it does a second later when he drops a light kiss on your forehead, his wide hands settling on the backs of your thighs as he presses himself further into you. You know he feels the slick drenching your underwear by the hitch in his breath.

“Study break?” He offers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that ensnares you. A danger that glows like stars adorning a velvet sky.

“Namjoon,” you groan in response, legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel the length of him, hard and twitching against you. “You can’t just do that! It’s not fair.”

“Why? You don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a nudge that coaxes another slip from your core. The whine that leaves your lips is instinctual.

“I do! It’s just that — um — just that I’m ovulating right now.”

The second the word leaves your mouth he freezes, broad body suspended over you and a distant look sweeping over his honey eyes. And then something clicks, his cock settling further into you, a twitch along his length that echoes in your nerves.

“Right now?” The words that leave his mouth are measured, his gaze locking on your own as if he’s weighing the consequences of his desires.

“Yes, right now. I don’t know if we—”

“Can I be honest with you? I haven’t been able to focus since you came over and the idea of you ovulating is doing nothing but making me extremely hard right now.”

“I — what? Really? Are you serious?”

He nods, unabashed as the blush rising beneath his golden skin. Your fingers dig further into his back, the want that sweeps through your system feral. It's so swift that you can’t control the rise of your hips nor the warmth that pools in your gut. Namjoon dissolves right back into you, the groan that slips from his mouth meeting the heat of your skin as he burrows himself back into the crook of your neck. You’re no longer thinking, your brain stuck on the feeling of his cock against you, direct with every drag of his hips.  He wants this as much as you do, a realisation that you’re still trying to comprehend. You have to ask again, terrified of the teetering edge you’re on.

“You sure? Like really?”

He scoffs, shifting back to give you a look. “You’ve seen my NSFW twitter, baby. You know what’s there.”

“Yeah, a lot more fisting porn than I ever expected.” There’s a beat of silence, Namjoon’s gaze shifting into something you can’t decipher. “Not that I’m against fisting,” you quickly amend, “It was just surprising.”

“Fair enough, but that wasn’t the only thing there.”

You know what he's referring to but seeing other people commit the act and then doing it yourself were too completely different things. There are still some things you’re too ashamed to say out loud and that particular kink of one of them. While your ovulation had a rather stronghold over you, so did your inner mortification.

Namjoon, on the other hand, cannot be bothered to beat around the bush. “You’ve seen what’s there right?" He repeats. "Creampies? Cum play? Breeding—”

“Don’t say that!”

He pauses, a playful grin tugging at his lips.”Is that what you want? Because you’re ovulating? What me to stuff—”

“Namjoon, stop it!”

He laughs then, a low sound dangerous that fills the room and swallows the embarrassment that eats away at you alive. “How can I? My pretty girl wants me to breed her, stuff her full of cum until it’s leaking from her cunt. You want that right? Want my cock so deep you feel it tomorrow? Am I right, baby? Hmm?”

You’re not looking at him, cheeks burning with every word parting his lips, but your cunt agrees wholeheartedly, leaking against your panties at the thought of Namjoon fucking you full. He doesn’t take your silence well though, a firm hand clasping around your jaw and tugging your focus right back into him. There's a glint in his eyes, a sharp dark wild thing.

“Baby.” He says it slowly, the word tumbling from his lips and right into the heat forming in your core. “Is that what you want?”

“Maybe,” you retort, feeling the twitch that tremors through his jaw deep inside of you. Namjoon scoffs, hand dropping from your chin. The absence of his touch has you scrambling after it, the movement occurring before you can bite back your desperation.

“Maybe? Then you don’t want it enough do you? I should leave you to study, don’t you think?”

“Namjoon.” Your fingers grip into his shirt before he can shift away, a pounding in your chest that terrifies you. “Maybe I do want it  — a lot — I just can't say it.”

“You can’t say it?” He cocks an eyebrow. “But you know how to use your words when you’re arguing with me.”

He’s infuriating and he’s doing it on purpose from the telltale gleam in his eyes. You don’t know what to despise more; Namjoon and his provocations or your inability to vocalise your desires. But that anger withers into wanting the second he settles back between your thighs, cock hard and heavy where you need him most. Yet, still, saying it out loud isn’t possible for you just yet. But you do want it, a great deal more than you’d ever admit.

“That’s different,” you say instead. “That’s when you’re being stupid.”

The eye-roll you're granted is brimming with exasperation. “Of course, you would say that.”

“And I’m correct.”

“Sure, you are,” Namjoon returns, nuzzling into your chest. He’s saying it to complacent you and it ticks you off

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, a warning in your voice.

Namjoon sighs, perfect face burrowed between your boobs. “I’m not arguing with you right now. You look cute when you get mad and I’m hard enough as it. Besides, that’s not the point.”

That should not have you buzzing, the word cute sticking out from the rest of his horrid statement like a neon light in the dark. But you let it rest, preoccupied with the fact that:

a. Namjoon is horny

b. So are you

“So,” you say. “What was the point?”

“The point is that you’re too shy to say you want me to stuff you—”

Point B no longer exists. You are no longer horny even when he’s looking at you like that with that stupid lopsided grin of his.

“I get it,” you retort, “I get the point. And I’m not saying that. Not today, not ever.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” There’s a challenge there, and like an idiot you fall for it, raising an indignant eyebrow in response.

“Yes, I will not—”

He’s got the band of your sweatpants down in a second, wiggling the fabric down your hips and past your butt faster than you can blink. You don’t object, a muffled giggle drifting from your throat when he finally gets them off, tossing the pants somewhere in the corner of his room, something to be searched for later, not now. That giggle shifts to a moan the second his face dives between your thighs, the deep breath he takes in kindling a flame in your gut. There’s the faint press of his tongue through the cotton of your underwear, the low groan he lets out when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties setting something off within you.

“Oh — oh — N-Namjoon!”

“Yes, baby?” Another lick, tongue quick and firm against your drenched core.

“Don’t play with me. I can’t handle that right now.”

“I’m not playing,” he remarks. “Just giving you a reason to say you want me to stuff you full of my cum. I know you want to say it anyway.”

You huff. “You think I’ll give in that easi — hgnh.” He’s tearing your underwear off, tongue landing back onto your wet folds before you can register the fact that the fabric is gone. A few firm wet laves of that muscle against your cunt and you can see your resolve crumbling. He knows exactly where to lick and drag his tongue, nose buried into the apex of your cunt as if he wants to breathe you in. You can’t help the buck of your hips, a tremor running down your thighs when his tongue slips into your hole, pressing in with purpose and leaving you breathless in his sheets. But then he’s drawing away and you glance down to find him staring at your cunt in wonder, his rouge mouth glistening with your slick.

“How can I not,” Namjoon says, offering a kitten lick that spikes a shock in your spine, “Play with you when you’re so fun to play with, angel.” The smile on his lips is dangerous.

Your hand settles on his head and Namjoon curls into it. But instead of dragging your fingernails against his skull and pulling him closer like you know he loves, you shove him away, swiftly squeezing your thighs shut. If you’re going to play this game, you’re doing it on your terms.

“You’re not being fair,” you say. Namjoon blinks at you like you’re insane, obviously thinking with the dick in his pants rather than his head. “Go back to your Isaac Turganife or whatever.”

“It’s Ivan Turgenev, baby,” he replies, sighing slow. “And I don’t want to go? Do you really want me to?” He plants a tender kiss on your bare thigh and you burst with want, slick leaking out even though you didn’t intend it to.

“Not fair,” you say again. But you don’t want him to leave you like this, at the mercy of your hormones and the sudden remembrance of Namjoon’s thick cock stretching you open. “But no, I don’t want you to go. Just don’t play with me please.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But if we’re being honest here all I can think about is seeing my cum leak out of you. I just want you to want that as much as I do.” He says it in a rush like he’s afraid he won’t have the nerve to admit it if he doesn’t do it right now.

But I do, you think, walls fluttering just from the flash of that image in your mind. I do, Namjoon. And yet, you can’t say it.

“I’m ovulating, Namjoon,” you retort instead.

“And you’re also on birth control,” he rebuttals. “PEMDAS or whatever. It cancels out the baby option, right?”

“You are so dumb it hurts, Kim Namjoon,” you murmur, fighting the urge to kiss your stupid boyfriend. It’s a very odd conversation to be having when your cunt is on display and his dick is hard in his pants but you’re having it anyway.

“We’ve fucked raw before though?” He continues, still not piecing it together. “And so far, no baby. So no problem right?”

“When I’m not ovulating. Less risk, at least that’s what I like to believe.”

“Well I suggest you start believing that right now because I would very much like to see you stu—”

“Stop saying that you’re making me want to turn celibate!”

“Oh?” Namjoon remarks. “And yet you’re leaking all over my sheets every time I mention it.”

“I will cut you off from sex for a week if you say something like that again,” you retort.

Namjoon grins like he knows this is affecting you on a deeper level than your cunt being wet. “Fair enough, but I have to ask. Do you want that?”

“Want what?” Feigning ignorance is the safest bet until that shift in his eyes appears.

“Want my cum?” he says it so easily, unaffected while your face rushes with heat.“Inside of you, leaking out of you… All of it?”

And maybe you stop breathing at the thought of feeling full of everything Namjoon had to offer you, your walls clenching tight.

“Maybe. Maybe I do, I don’t know.” You do know and Namjoon knows that you do too. It’s with a defeated murmur that you admit it, voice soft in his room. “Okay, fine. I do. I want that.”

“You do?” There’s an edge in his voice. “You want me to bre—”

“Stop it before I change my mind.”

He laughs, a light warm thing that digs into your chest. “Okay, okay! Sorry, babe. Do you want me to prep you? My mouth? My fingers? You can decide.”

It’s settled so quick in your brain you realise it was never up for debate. “Neither. Just you. I just want you.”

He halts, honey eyes locked on yours for a moment, before springing to his feet and tugging his shirt over his head with speed. “We can do that,” he mumbles, his knees bumping against the foot of his bed. His pants come off next, plummeting to the ground where he kicks them off a moment later. It’s only then that you see the consequence of actions, straining painfully against his boxer briefs. He shifts to tug those off too but you cut the movement before it happens, shuffling forward until your hand is cupped around his length. Namjoon doesn’t protest, rolling into the tiny palm of your hand. You love the way he feels underneath your palm, thick and hard and heavy, a weight you long to feel inside of you. He sighs low when you grip him, watching your fingers wrap around the outline of his dick through the fabric. It’s only then that you realise, your gaze slipping down his body, subtly noting the sharp intake of breath when your lips mimic what he did to your underwear before he ripped it off, that Namjoon has been holding himself back.

He wants this, badly. It’s evident from the tightness in his voice when he speaks a moment later.

“Angel,” It’s said low, a warning. “I thought we said we wouldn’t play with each other.”

He’s right. With a small pout, you lean away and Namjoon wastes no time moving into your space, strong arms swapping your arm just to land you back at the head of his bed. You suddenly remember your laptop, lost in the mess of his sheets. Namjoon is kind enough to relocate it before climbing right back into your space, cock digging into your stomach when he kisses you again. It doesn’t take long before your top is gone, joining Namjoon’s pants on the floor, and then you’re digging the band of his underwear down, your lips still slotted together and a wetness rapidly forming between your thighs at the feel of his bare cock against you.

But he’s impatient, shuffling you around the second his length is freed. Your back is hard against his mattress, fingers grasping at the sheets when Namjoon knocks your knees apart. There’s a moment of bated breath, his large hands lingering against the bare skin of your exposed thigh, brown eyes locked on your wet folds. His gaze is so intense you instinctively want to clamp your legs shut, shy away from how seen you feel under his eyes. Yes, technically you were naked in his bed but there’s something else that he draws out just from looking at you. Something that makes you nervous because you like it so much.

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s whispered in the heat of the air, Namjoon picking up on how your legs drift together. He’s got them pressed apart a second later, grip firm but gentle, and your stomach does a swoop so dangerous you’re left violently reeling, the ceiling above you spinning. “Don’t do that, angel. Too pretty to hide from me. I want to see all of you.”

You can only hum in response, throat clogged with words that won’t form into coherent sounds. But Namjoon understands you regardless, kissing you senseless as his massive body descends on yours. His hands are on your ass a second later, gripping tight as his length nudges against your core. You just might cry, desperation bubbling in your chest. He draws away gently but you don’t want to let him leave, fingers taut on his broad back, gripping onto the very muscles that had you heady just earlier today. There’s a whine on your tongue that he swallows before you part once more. The laugh that slips from his lips at the sight of your pouted mouth is fond. He grants you another peck, soft and tender, before Namjoon rips himself away, determined this time.

His hips are lined against yours a moment later, cock stiff and dripping with precum. And yet your gaze doesn’t tear from the arms trapping you in his sheets. His biceps look huge, massive actually, all hard muscle and pure strength. It’s doing something to the base part of your brain because you can’t stop thinking about how large Namjoon is. Caving you in, your personal shelter from the world. Is it weird that you feel protected? Safe in the bed of this boy. You wouldn’t mind hiding here forever. A part of you wants to kiss him again, but Namjoon’s focused on other things, oblivious to the cave-woman looking for a mate thoughts running amok in your brain.

They dissipate the moment the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. Just a light tease, but he splits you open quick enough.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, angel. Didn’t need me to prep you at all.”

You mumble a noise that you’re not sure leaves your throat. He’s taking it slow on purpose, pushing in inch by inch so that you feel every part of him filling you up. It’s intoxicating, how the feeling of the slow drag of his cock overtakes everything in your brain. You’ll never get over how big Namjoon is, no matter how many times he fucks you. Each shift of his hips forward coaxing slick from your cunt. It pools at your entrance, dripping over his length until he’s glistening with your wetness.

“F-fuck,” He head drops down to the hollow of your neck the moment he’s sheathed inside, the velvet walls of your pussy gripping him hard. It’s too much for the both of you, bodies strung high on the want that threatened to consume you both. But he feels good like this, lodged in your cunt, stretching you wide and making a place for himself right between your legs. He gives you a moment to adjust and then the coiled spring in him snaps.

“So fucking tight around me, angel. Taking my cock so well.” There’s an edge in his voice, a warning for what’s to come.

You groan when he draws up, a tiny squeal erupting from your throat when he slams back down, hips angled to piston you into his sheets. The pounding is hard and unforgiving, a contradiction to the gentle look in his gaze. He holds you tight, giving you no room to shuffle under the bruise of his thrusts.

You can’t do anything but mumble his name, tongue numb in your mouth as he fucks you senseless.

“You’re dripping so much, baby. Making a mess on the sheets. You wanted my dick that bad, huh? Wanted me to fuck you full? Stuff this dirty cunt of yours?”

“J-Joon!” There’s an arch in your back, a dangerous tingle fluxing through your nerves when his mouth latches on your neck, your chests pressed against each other. Each drive into you pushes out a haggard breath, the heat into the room wrapping around your joint bodies, your arms slung over his shoulders, gripping him tight as he unravels you with his cock. Time stops, nothing punctuating the moment apart from the lewd sound of your meeting, your slick slipping from your cunt each time he hits deep. And he keeps at it, fucking you with a vigour that feels new and vicious.

You can feel him tensing beneath your fingertips, a soreness spreading through your muscles with every hard thrust of his hips into you. But you don’t care, delirious with the feeling of his cock deep within you, slamming right into that spot that has you dangling off the edge. The tight grip on your thighs adds to it, Namjoon pressing you down as he fucks you open like you’re nothing but a toy for his pleasure. He slams into you with abandon, his lips on your neck. Every drag is loud in the room, the slick pooling around your entrance orchestrating the sound of your meeting. You love how he feels over you, broad and big and pinning you down with an ease that shouldn't have you stomach twisting but it does. And he knows that, reading the whimpers that leave your throat well. You can feel it, the knot that tightens with every hard drive of him into you. So close, a blink of your eyes and you could be there. But then he slows, cock squelching against your entrance with a half-hearted thrust.

“Namjoon—" You’re burning, fingers scrambling to push his hips down, shove your hips up. Anything. Anything because if he gives you nothing you’ll implode.

“My baby is so quiet today. Hmm? Why are you so quiet? You don’t want my cum? Don’t want me to breed this tight little cunt of yours?” There’s a  in his tension colouring his deep voice, like he’s holding back from saying something. You want to ask but your needs are forefront in your mind clamouring for attention.

“Joon!” He nips your neck at that whine and you dissolve into his sheets, nothing but pleasure running through your limbs. “Namjoon please, please, please. I want it, Joon, need it.”

He cocks his head, a languid roll into your core that has you squirming underneath his hold. “Need what? Words baby, words.”

“Need your cum.” It’s shameful to say and the heat in your cheeks makes it obvious, Namjoon doesn’t care, shifting his hips so that his cock slowly slips out. Your legs clamp around him so quick that his chest smacks into yours, a muffled sigh escaping into the air.

“Need it where?” He says, hips rigid with how he holds himself back. It takes tenacity to make you work for it. You feel perfect around him, tight pussy stretched around his length and your slick dripping all over. So needy, so wet, velvet walls clinging to his cock leaving him weak even though he tries to hide it. You’re intoxicating, your heat, the feeling of your body moulded into his, the way you moan his name. He wants to hear you scream it though, hear your throat go hoarse with each cry until you're a blubbering mess in his bed. There are other things he wants too, but he needs to hear you say this first.

“Inside,” you reply, a perfect whimper drifting from your bruised lips. “Inside me, Namjoon, please.”

He gives in then and there, resolve shattering when his gaze drifts to the minuscule grind of your hips against his own, his cock sinking deep with every shift of your waist upward. It’s not long until he’s sheathed back inside of you, length twitching against the heat of your walls. He wants to take it slow, make you beg for him a little more, but there’s a weight in his gut that threatens to drop. And then his focus shifts to the span of your stomach and it slams into him so quick he nearly chokes. He may joke about it as a kink, the idea of fucking you until you were bearing his child, but the actual vision of your stomach swelling hadn’t occurred in his thoughts until right then. You would look ethereal, round with evidence of his love for you. He can’t help the palm that settles there as his hips slowly rut forward, forcing himself deeper, needing to see you stretch out for him.

“Joon,” you sigh, shuddering at the press of his balls against your ass.

He hums, thoughtful, dark eyes lingering on the sway of your chest. “Yes, baby?”

“Harder, please, harder.”

“Anything my baby wants, she gets. Isn’t that right, princess.” And then he’s falling out of you, quick when he slams back down. Your voice sounds foreign to your eyes, brain roughly registering the harsh feeling of his hands as he swiftly rearranges you, cock still buried deep, until your knees are folded over his broad shoulders. The quake in your thighs is violent. But you don’t protest, mind unable to shift from the hard pistons he delivers into your cunt, thrusts demanding your release. There’s the sway of the bed beneath you, soft sheets bundling underneath the weight of your joint bodies, a heaviness in the air you breathe. He fucks you with a purpose that wasn’t there before, as if he needs to see you stuffed with his cum, unravelling around his length, a mess beneath him.

And you give it to him, shuddering when his fingertips sneak to your clit, the flickers he lands there unfaltering. That combined with the steady drag of his cock has your vision blanking, contentment spilling through your nerves as your high hits. It’s quick; a hard fast thing and spreads right from your core and through your system. Namjoon fucks you through it, swallowing your incoherent mumbling with a deft press of his lips against yours. You don’t realise you’re crying until he swipes a thumb along your cheeks, dropping a kiss on the damp skin of your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. You don’t miss how his hips speed up, muscles tense underneath your trembling fingertips. “So pretty. My pretty girl.”

“Cum in me,” you reply, breaking away to catch his gaze. Namjoon chokes, hips faltering. You don’t let him process it, still riding high on the look colouring his features. This is what he wanted from you, and you’re drunk enough on the feeling of him deep inside of you to say it. There’s still a tremor in your walls that grips him tight and you aid it by raising your hips upwards, the bend uncomfortable but worth the darkness that consumes the brown of his eyes. A part of you wants to say it again and you do, voice low in the room. “Joon, I need you. Need to feel full.”

“Fuck me.” It’s said under his breath but you don’t miss it, stomach twisting when his cock slams into you. It’s hard and mean. Namjoon takes everything you’re giving him, folding you into his mattress and driving his hips hard enough for the bed-frame to shift, a low thud against his bedroom wall. You let him have his way, groaning into his ear, the sheen of sweat that builds on both your bare bodies glimmering under the dwindling glow of the sunlight. There’s a faint tepid heat flickering in your core and it sparks up when Namjoon lands a hard kiss on the span of your neck, moaning low as he splits you open on his cock.

“So fucking tight.” There’s a hitch in your rugged breathing, your grip on his ruined sheets fierce. “So wet. All for me. All mine. Right, baby? This is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yours,” you whisper in return, lost in the feeling of him enclosing you in. “All yours.”

His lips are soft against your own, a delicate press of his mouth that doesn’t match how hard he’s fucking you. But you revel in it, rupturing into something bright and wild and full of love underneath the piston of his hips. It’s good now, the sensitivity you felt a moment ago ebbing into nothing but heat and want. You don’t miss how he twitches against your walls, thrusts growing erratic with every lewd slam of his length inside of you. And you want it, reminding Namjoon of that fact with wicked whispers in his ear. He caves fast, a few last hard rolls before he paints your walls in his release, the moan he lets out bleeding into your skin. You’re on edge now, the feeling of Namjoon’s cum coating your cunt when you’re at peak fertility doing something stupid to your brain. It shouldn’t turn you on — in fact you should be terrified. You weren’t ready to be a parent, yet the weight of him on you, the spurt of cum that slips from your cunt when he draws again, sends your spiralling. It’s swift, the swing of your legs back around his waist.

“No — don’t, don’t move. Not yet.”

Namjoon pauses, checks still warm and his skin a pretty golden rouge. You don’t enjoy the way he reads you.

“We can’t cuddle like this. Remember what we did last time? The cockwarming?” He suggests it easily. He gets what this is doing to you even when you don’t understand it at all. You nod because the idea of Namjoon not lodged inside you sounds abhorrent. He shifts the both of you quick enough, his softening dick back to half-mast the moment your protest emerged. It’s easier like this, with you sprawled on his broad chest. You don’t want to acknowledge it but you’re still somewhat wound up and the feeling of him holding you close, your cunt stuffed full of his cum, is doing unimaginable things to your brain. You pretend it isn’t, snuggling into the valley of his massive chest, feeling safe and secure. And then Namjoon opens his mouth.

“We’re going to have to talk about this. You know that right?”

“No, we don’t have to talk about it. Ever. Pretend this never happened.”

His laughs echoes in your heart. “Baby, I just came in you and you’re ovulating. That’s fairly risky, don’t you think?”

“I told you!” You whack his arm for good measure. “I told you it was dumb.”

“But I liked it,” Namjoon continues, staring intently at the ceiling. “A lot.” You flutter, cheeks hot at his admission, a bubbling in your chest that shouldn’t be there. “And judging from how you’re using my dick to keep my cum inside of you, I’m guessing you liked it too.”

“...Maybe.” You hate it but he’s right. You liked having him use you like that, the prospect of his cum doing more than leaving you euphoric with satisfaction lingering in the depths of your mind.

“Maybe?” He scoffs, wide hand gently pushing you off his chest despite the whine you release. “Get off then, I need to check if my dick is intact. I think I saw the fifth dimension when I came.”

“Shut up, please!” You cling to your boyfriend, viciously wiggling around until you feel him twitch inside of you. It’s too nice of a feeling to lose just yet. “Why are you ruining it?”

“Why can’t you admit what you’re into? Speaking of that subject, I don’t know what your kinks really are. So far there’s been a bit more exhibitionism than I expected from you but the breeding one… is different. Not bad. Just different,” he suddenly rambles.

“Because it’s embarrassing.” Your voice is small, landing on his naked chest in the silence of his room. His hand shifts from shoving you off to gingerly resting on you back, rough fingertips languidly tracing patterns on your skin. The motion is reassuring, yet you can still hear the eye roll in his voice when he speaks.

“You’ve seen the fisting porn on my NSFW twitter, what the hell do you mean embarrassing?”

“It just is!” You protest. “I’m not sure what I’m into.”

“I think you are, you’re just not comfortable admitting it to yourself. Don’t you watch porn? Or have any particular fantasies?” Namjoon’s persistent despite your deflection and while some part of you hates it, you know he’s right. He always is — well most of the time.

“I do,” you retort instead, refusing to give him an ounce of triumph. “You know that don’t be dumb.”

“Well then,” Namjoon returns, curiosity colouring his voice, “What’s your NSFW twitter? I’ve shown you mine, let me see yours.”

“I don’t have one…”

There’s a pause, the hand on your back drawing to a halt. You can hear the cogs in his head turning.

“You don’t? What do you use then?”

“...Yours,” you whisper. The breath that falls from his lips is horrified. “I like most of the stuff you like,” you quickly tack on. Somehow this is more shameful than admitting that you like being stuffed with Namjoon’s cum. The silence carries on and you're left stewing in your thoughts, looking for a way out of this awkward mess when Namjoon starts up again, a tentativeness in his tone that concerns you.

“Most of what I like,” he says. Another pause. “... Including the fisting porn?”

“Namjoon,” you snap, “Shut up.” You can’t believe you’re allowing this man to plug his dick in you after sex, can’t believe it at all. It’s a horrible realisation to come too especially when he breaks out into a loud laugh, his chest shuffling you around with every quick intake of air and the sound of his glee resounding in your heart.

“Sorry, angel,” he offers between muffled laughs. You hate him. You do even if you love him ten times more than you hate him. “We should make you one after this,” Namjoon says. “And then get food. Sounds good with you?”

“Food first,” you retort, mellow in the arms of your lover. “And then the Twitter porn.”

[deepperplexity]

Titel: That’s Your Patronus?!

Pairing: Lucius x Muggleborn!Female!Slytherin!Reader 

Prologue: You had been secretly admiring Lucius Malfoy for quite some time. But, as you were a muggleborn he had only glared in your direction and jabbed at you with remarks of how you did not belong in Slytherin. But, when he finds you bruised and battered by a couple of Gryffindor boys handy work he leads you away to a secret room with a worried look across his beautiful face. In the end, Lucius is the one baffled by your own secret...

Setting: Hogwarts, Room of Requirements, Seventh Year

A/N: So this is my first Lucius fic ever, I have wanted to write one for quite some time now and this idea has been with me for just as long of a time. I hope you will enjoy it! ^^ 

ABBR.: | (y/n) - Your Name |

Word Count: 3606

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Injury, Bullying, Kissing

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3

You had been crying for the last fifteen minutes. Why do they have to be so mean? I never did anything to them… Your thoughts only made the salty tears roll down your cheeks at a more rapid pace. You couldn’t figure it out. You had always been picked on. The Slytherins picked on you for being a muggleborn, the Gryffindors picked on you for being a Slytherin. You had friends in both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw but you weren’t the outspoken one. You were, well, you were shy and insecure. Who wouldn’t be with constant picking and bullying? 

So you hid in an empty corridor as you wept from the ache in various parts of your body. They were clever in that sense, they didn't use magic since it could be traced back to their wands if one simply did a Priori Incantato spell and there would be the evidence for all to see. So, instead, there were kicks and hits, slaps and threats. In all honesty, that was worse than the magical jinxes and hexes. How much do you have to hate someone to physically punch them? Kick them? What did I do..?  

You sobbed as you scrunched yourself up into a little black ball between a pillar and a statue. “What did they do?” The stern and clear voice of Lucius Malfoy snapped your head up despite your eyes being red and your cheeks wet. You blushed at the sight of him while you hastily wiped away the tears. His eyes had widened at the sight of your marked face. A cut lip, a bruising jaw and swollen cheek where a blotchy red mark from a harsh slap was visible. 

You tried to smile gently as you shook your head. Your stomach was in knots and you could not help but wonder why it had to be him of all people who found you in such a state. “(Y/n), answer,” he commanded as he glared down at you. The light from a nearby torch danced across his high cheekbones and the long blond hair seemed to shimmer. He was perfection in your mind.  “Not-nothing, I’m fine,” you stuttered out as you lowered your gaze from him. Go away, I don’t need you to bash on me more, actually, I’d rather take another beating than hearing foul things from your mouth…  

His pale, slender hand appeared before your face and you reeled back from the surprise. “Up,” he commanded and you looked up at him as he folded and unfolded his hand to, in a way, ask for your hand. “Why?” you asked with a low voice. He simply tucked his chin in and looked at you with raised eyebrows. You tentatively took his hand and he pulled you up with ease. “Come on,” he said quickly with finality to his voice and tugged on your hand so you stumbled along slightly behind him as he marched to-, well, to somewhere. 

Your eyes kept darting up towards his face as your blush grew deeper while your heart pounded as your hand felt incredibly warm in his pale one. You had no clue where you were or where you were going as all you could see was him by your side holding your hand and dragging you along. 

It wasn’t until he stood still that you looked around. He was glaring at the wall before you and a moment later a door appeared. You gawked at it but your attention wasn’t fully on it as Lucius still had a tight grip of your hand. Once the door was fully formed he opened it and pulled you in with harsh movements that felt better than they should have. That somehow took away all your notion of throbbing pain in other parts of your body. 

You had worshipped him, pined for him and longed for him desperately the last two years. But you were nothing to him. All he did was glare and hiss at you; as often as he could it seemed. So that he held your hand was some kind of world-altering experience as you had only been able to guess what his skin felt like, if his slender fingers were strong or not, if he would pull or wait. Well, now you had your answers. 

The room was pitch black as the door closed and then little twinkling lights shimmered and shined in the ceiling while a fire roared to life all the way over on the other side of the gigantic room. You took a deep breath as it suddenly felt as if you weren’t being crushed by harsh stone walls any longer. You had needed the space, without even being aware of it yourself. Okay, usually I just go outside when I feel like that and it helps. I didn’t- who knew a room like this existed? How is this existing? It’s as huge as the Great Hall for Salazar’s sake! 

You looked around with wide eyes but snapped out of it as Lucius let go of your hand before he walked over to a rather huge sofa of the darkest green shade. You instantly wrapped your arms right under your breasts in comfort. You hugged yourself as you looked at his back. He walked with such grace and poise it was hard not to stare. The blonde hair that hung loosely around his shoulders that was covered with the Slytherin House marked cloak. 

“(Y/n), come,” he said without looking back at you and your body jolted into a brisk walk. He sat down on the sofa and once you reached it yourself you stopped, hesitated. Were you supposed to sit beside him? As if he had read your mind he patted the cushioned seat right bloody next to him. You bit your lower lip and took a seat. 

You smoothed out your skirt and kept your knees pressed tightly together. You were no longer crying but you were a sordid mess next to the perfection that was Lucius. You felt his eyes rove over you as you held your gaze transfixed on your fidgeting hands that laid atop your thighs. Yet somehow, you were smiling. It wasn't that much of a surprise actually. you were always smiling. It was nearly a habit but also genuine.

“Tell me,” he said rather clearly, “what happened this time?” he continued with a voice that was perhaps a tad softer. You weren’t quite sure. About his voice or what you were supposed to tell him. His pale hand grabbed your fidgeting ones in a steady grip and you gasped. You couldn’t help it as he nearly gave you a heart attack with the sudden move and strength of his long fingers. “Tell me,” he urged and his voice was a bit clipped. Harsh actually. 

You furrowed your brow as you dared a look at the young man you were so utterly enthralled with. Who had filled your nights with steaming dreams and your warm showers with thoughts of wandering hands and echoing moans. But it had always ended the moment you remembered that he was disgusted by you. By your blood status.

But there he was, holding your hands in his. There he was, seated beside you in your solitude. There he was, wondering what had caused you such pain. And there you were, feeling utterly miserable as the only thing you could think was that you were about to be terribly broken one way or another. No good could simply come from being so close to him, it wasn't possible.

“It was nothing, they just teased me for not being able to produce the Patronus in defence against the dark arts today…” Your voice was low as you tried your best not to lose your courage to speak while you looked at his magnificent face. He let out a little hiss. “Dunderheads, the lot of them.” Your eyes widened in surprise. That was a rather mild comment as it came from him. You had heard far more colourful descriptions of Gryffindors from his lips. 

But his voice, that was what somewhat shocked you. He sounded angry. But why on earth would he be? He took jabs at you all the time, made sure you knew your place - not in Slytherin and not in proximity to him or other purebloods. He was eager in every way to push you down, down, down. 

Your thoughts drifted to the lesson that was the base for that day’s bullying. You had tried, with all your might, to produce your Patronus. You had done it a few times before, away from others. And since you knew what your Patronus was - well, it put a kink in your will to show it to others. So even if you had truly tried with all your might, your will had not been in it. 

“Do you not have happy memories?” Lucius’s voice broke through the light fog that clouded your mind and you smiled in a gentle yet kind of sad way. “I do,” you said as your fiddled with your fingers, your hands in your lap as he had released you a moment earlier. “But?” You peeked at him from the side and he looked at you intently, as if he actually cared or wanted to know. I need to be careful, he might, might just be setting me up for something… “I didn’t want to do it,” you shrugged while you spoke in a low voice. 

There was a moment of silence and Lucius had grabbed your hand yet again. It sent jolts of warmth through you and you did your best to hide your feelings, hide what you knew was a lost cause and an endless torrent of heartache and pain. “Why?” The word was quite simple, so was the question. Yet you found that you didn’t know how to answer it. Could you tell him about your Patronus? Could you tell him how you feared it would make you an even easier target for bloodshaming and bullying? Could you trust him enough for that? 

No, no you couldn’t. But you could tell him your reason for not wanting - without giving away too much. “I-, I didn’t want others to see my patronus.” “A patronus is something to take pride in,” Lucius said as he gave your hand a little tug and forced you to give him your attention, “not to hide away.” You tilted your head at his words. Sure, you say that now. Your patronus is a damn peacock! Nothing to hesitate about, it’s just beautiful and perfectly suited for you. Proud and independent, majestic yet wonderfully gentle. So yeah, of course, you’d say that… A damn peacock is nothing to mine… 

“Show me,” he said with that voice that was as gentle as it was dismissive. He just had it in him, his status, purity and family were so imprinted that he carried himself and spoke in a way that wreaked superiority, even when he doesn’t mean to sound harsh he still dose. “I-, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you mumbled out as your cheeks blushed. You felt it creep down your throat and further down to your chest covered with your shirt and tie. “Show me,” he said again and you looked into his beautiful eyes. His face framed by long, blond hair and his features were chiselled to perfection. 

You swallowed as heat swirled through your veins and gathered in the pit of your stomach. You could not help but imagine what his warm hand would have felt like if he caressed you in places none had before. How it would have felt if he had pressed his lips against yours. How it would have felt to hear words of endearment from him. The thoughts made you shiver while you were incredibly warm. 

You shook your head. He glared at you, even if there was another emotion that swirled in his bright eyes of the clearest grey. He always glared at you so it wasn't really something new. Yet it felt different when you were seated so close, while you were alone in a hidden room. It was different, yet the same. As landscapes changed with the seasons, it was different but still the same.  

He released your hand and produced his wand. “Expecto Patronum,” he said with conviction and strength to his voice. A bright light swirled from the tip of his wand as a peacock emerged in a silvery-blue light. It spread its tailfeathers and pranced around in a display of some swaying and soft sort. It looked quite astoundingly beautiful so up close. You could not help but stare at it with awe. But you did not wish for another Patronus, you loved your Patronus - it was just so different… 

“I’ve shown you mine, show me yours.” You took a shaky breath. His words were harsh and not to be refused. You knew him well enough to know that you had no way of getting out without producing your Patronus for him to see. “I’m sorry,” you said as you produced your own wand, “I’m not sure you’ll like it.” “Do you like it?” “I love it,” you replied with rosy cheeks and an embarrassed smile. “Than I should think I will find it intriguing.” You chuckled at his words. I think you’re right, for good or bad.  

You rose and took a step forward, so as to give yourself a little space from him. He clouded your mind and you couldn’t focus when he was so close. You racked your brain, searched for a memory that could fill you up and help bring forth your Patronus. When you found it you allowed it to consume you and then you flicked your wand up a bit higher. “Expecto Patronum,” you said as steadily as you could with that gentle voice of yours. 

“Holy Merlin-!” was the first thing that was heard as your Patronus stood proudly next to his little peacock that swiftly disappeared as Lucius’s focus was broken. You peered up as you craned your neck. Your classmates had showcased everything from mice to bears, horses to dolphins, tigers and owls - but your Patronus was on another level. “ That’s your patronus?! ” Lucius nearly shrieked and you looked towards him. He was paler than pale, pushed back into the sofa as his bulging eyes stared, he nearly gawked, at the T-Rex that had sprouted from your wand - fueled by happy memories.

The T-Rex walked around in the huge room for a moment, its teeth gleamed white from the light and so did the claws and eyes. It was a weirdly viciously beautiful sight and you did truly adore it. Your Patronus. “Yes, that is my patronus,” you said as you looked at the T-Rex. “ What the bloody hell is that thing?! ” You chuckled at his ignorance. “What, you’ve never seen a tyrannosaurus rex?” “A tyrano-what-now?” You chuckled at his confusion. “Tyrannosaurus rex, a T-Rex,” you stated to simplify it for the confused pureblood. “I have not and I hope I never shall!” 

You laughed at his words and horrified look, and the T-Rex seemed to focus on you with a gentle shine of happiness. “What?” Lucius asked in confusion and irritation. “They’re extinct, been for millions of years. They were walking the earth long before us,” you said as you tried to collect yourself from the fit of laughter. “Good,” he muttered as he glared at your Patronus. It glared back and you saw Lucius lower his gaze for a moment. Intimidated by the humongous creature of happy light portraying fangs and claws created and evolved for killing.  

“How can you have such a beast for patronus?” he asked as his gaze slid over to you rather than the T-Rex of happy light. You lowered your gaze a tad as you fidgeted with your fingers. You pulled a bit on your skirt, unknowing of what to say. “You’re so gentle, and weak. How can you have that within you?” His words were harsh and cold yet it felt as if he were not being mean deliberately. Perhaps it was just so ingrained in him? “I don’t know, perhaps because I am gentle?” He looked confused at that. But you continued, “perhaps because I am gentle and weak, as you point out, on the outside. You do not know anything about me or who I am. To you, well to you I’m just a filthy mudblood, no?” 

His head had jerked up at your own insulting words aimed at yourself. He looked at you, anger flashed in his cold eyes and you felt a shiver that travelled through you as you tried your best to hold his gaze. “That’s what I have always been to you, and will always be, a dirty thing only worthy of hateful words,” you continued with a gentle yet sad voice, “you’ve made that quite clear.” His hands fisted and he looked away from you. His lips sealed tightly. Your heart hammered in your chest as you tried your best to hold back the tears that wanted to escape. I will not cry, I will not cry again tonight. I knew, knew this was a bad thing. 

He rose from the sofa as your Patronus vanished. He straightened and you allowed yourself a second to just look at him. Admire him for such a fleeting thing as looks. Because he was gorgeous. Handsome, beautiful even. “Don’t you understand? I have to do that or I would go utterly mad.” Your eyebrows knitted together at his gritted words. “I do not understand, at all.” He glared at you when you spoke. Anger and rage in his eyes. “If I do not make sure you stay away from me I will not be able to stay away from you,” he growled on a hiss and you took an involuntary step back at the coldness of his tone. Yet your heart, your heart fluttered in your chest as his words echoed in your mind. 

“You like me?” you whispered out. “Of course I like you, who the bloody hell wouldn’t?” You gaped at him and tried to find any words to utter but your mind was completely blank. “You’re beautiful, smart, gentle and kind. Always smiling despite everything, always. bloody. smiling! ” he gritted out as if it were a crime against humanity to smile, “how can you possibly be so damn happy? Even now your smiling, you’re bruised and battered, bullied and alone in the world - yet you are still bloody smiling?!” His nostrils flared as he spoke, anger again visible in those cold eyes of his that you wanted to keep looking into for all time to come. 

“The world won’t be a better place just because I allow it to crush me,” you whispered as you tried to contain that smile he spoke of. But it was difficult in his presence as he made you feel such strong emotions that were both happy and sad. Your smile that of both joy and sheer will to not let things smash you into pieces. A self-defence mechanism and at the same time just who you were, how you were.

His face smoothed out, surprise in his eyes this time as he just looked at you. Baffled. “It won’t be a better place just because you smile either,” he countered. “No, but at least it won’t be worse.” He huffed at that and looked away. For a moment you felt a need to just lash out at him, release all the pent up anger, sorrow, hurt and misery. But that was not you. No, you were kind and gentle and would suffer in solitude if the awful emotions needed to come out. 

“You’re an idiot,” he grunted on a sigh. “Perhaps,” you said in return. “Or maybe I’m the idiot.” You knitted your brows at him again. “I don’t think so,” you responded with a pondering voice as you tried to contain your emotions and not let your mind run wild with the desire you felt for him, “why would you be the idiot? You’re smart, ambitious, excellent at many things. Popular.” “Yes, but if I were smart I would not be here alone, with you,” he hissed as he stepped towards you.  “Why?” you asked, your breath caught in your throat as he was inching ever closer. “Because if I was not alone I wouldn’t be able to do idiotic things,” he continued as he stopped right before you. “Like?” you whispered as your heart hammered from his proximity and your head fuzzed over from the manly scent that wafted from him, a gentle yet firm aroma that smelled like heaven; or hell - you weren’t quite sure. “This,” he growled and grabbed your chin before he smashed his warm lips against yours. 

For a moment you felt nothing, and then - everything. All the longing, desire, love and affection bubbled up along with the fear and sorrow of all hurtful things he had done to you. It was too much, too many emotions and you could not contain the tears that had been wanting to be released. So you cried silently as he kissed you with passion, his arms wrapped themselves around you as your hands grabbed his uniform and tried to pull him even closer. 

When the kiss was broken and you both panted while you looked at each other he reached up and wiped away your tears. “I don’t understand,” you murmured as you worried your lip. He tilted your head with a finger under your chin. “You do not need to understand.” “But-” “Always smiling and yet when I kiss you, you cry,” he said to cut you off and you felt a smile tug at your lips. You couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry,” you apologized and he raised his brows in a harsh way. You wanted to look away but couldn’t. “Do not apologies, I feel rather special,” he admitted and you could have sworn that his cheeks were taking on a tinge of red for a moment. It made your heart flutter again and somehow you found your courage and pulled him in for another kiss with absolutely no clue as to what was happening or how it would be after you left the secret room. But if this was your moment with him, you would make the most of it...

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