#thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about it

[hazzashouse]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker���anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[runninriot]

A Christmas Wish Come True

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 25

prompt: Christmas | rated: G | wc: 1.000 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, found family, strangers to lovers

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+ bonus epilogue)

“So, wanna tell me about your little side gig as grandpa, Wayne?”

It was meant as a joke but his voice sounds angrier than he intended and it makes Eddie instantly feel bad.

   “I’m sorry. It’s just- why haven’t you told me?”

   “Look, that kid, Robbie, she only has her dad. And Steve is doing his best raising her all alone but- you know how me met? I’d just gotten off work, drove by his house and saw him sitting there on the front porch, looking like he was two seconds away from a mental breakdown. That man was a mess and he needed someone to take him by the hand. So, I reached out mine and he took it.”

He scrubs a hand over his chin, a habit he always has when he’s deep in thoughts.

   “I wanted to tell ya, I just didn’t find the right moment. And I was a little worried you’d have a problem with it. I know you had a thing for that boy back in high school and I didn’t know if you guys had ever been... close, so-“

   “No, no! Back up, Wayne. What?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in shock. It’s not like he ever had to hide the fact that he likes guys – Wayne always knew, always accepted Eddie for all he is. But never, not once, did he mention his stupid infatuation with Steve. There’s no fucking way his uncle knew.

   “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Every single piece of paper lying around your mess of a room had a little heart with Steve’s name on it.”

    Oh, right.

   “Okay, I give you that but why would you think we’ve been like, together? Even you must see how ridiculous that is. Have you looked at the man?”

Eddie bites his tongue before he says something like ‘He’s way too perfect to be with someone like me’. Wayne doesn’t need to know that he’s still got heart eyes for Steve and he already said too much.

   “Yeah, I saw. I also heard how he talked about you. How he got all soft when he talked about all the mischief you were up to in high school. That cost me all my hair by the way, so thanks for that.”

Wayne laughs and Eddie would too, if he wasn’t so confused right now.

   “Whether you knew it or not, that boy liked you. And seeing you two today, I’m pretty sure you still have that in common. You are both so bad at hiding it.”

Their conversation did not mess Eddie up. It didn't, okay? And he's definitely not nervous when he opens the door for Steve and Robbie to come in, right on time for Christmas dinner.

It doesn't make him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin when Steve takes the seat next to him, so close their knees occasionally touch.

And it doesn't cause a full-body shiver when their hands accidentally brush while reaching for the same bread.

It's fine. Everything is fine. Wayne doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing between them. No sparks, no fire, no longing glances. They’re just two small families celebrating Christmas together. Nothing more.

That's why, when Eddie excuses himself to have a smoke outside after dinner, and Steve follows him, he doesn't think much of it.

But of course, reality always comes crashing in. And when Steve huddles closer, stands right next to him, sharing his cigarette like that’s normal, Eddie can’t take it anymore.

   “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, trying hard to control the tremble in his voice.

   “Wayne thought you and I were, you know, a thing in high school. That’s why he didn’t tell me about meeting you.”

Eddie laughs but it sounds fake, and for a long moment, all Steve does is look at him, eyes piercing like they’re trying to see into Eddie’s soul.

   “Mhm, very funny,” he then says but doesn't sound amused at all.

   “No, it really is, because I had the biggest crush on you back then."

Eddie swallows, looks, waits. Doesn't know what for because it feels like anything could happen.

   "Had?" It almost sounds like a tease but Eddie can sense that Steve's nervous.

   "Would it be bad if it was still true?" Eddie asks, unsure of where this is going.

   "Depends.” Steve answers, a tentative smile on his lips, “Would it be bad if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Eddie isn't sure if he's still breathing and if his heart's still beating because the world is spinning too fast and-

His lips are on Steve's, testing, pressing, and there are hands in his hair, and the night becomes day, and everything feels right, feels good, feels like something finally clicks into place.

They kiss until their lungs hurt, kiss some more after a giggle fit. Kiss again until the door opens and Robbie is standing before them with wide eyes.

   "Oh, sh-oot! Hey, baby! Sorry, Eddie and I were just-"

   "Thank you, Santa!" Robbie yells against the sky and Eddie's heart explodes.

The worry on Steve's face makes way for confusion and Eddie feels bad for cheating because contrary to Steve, he's in on Robbie's secret.

   "Grandpa Wayne said to tell you we're having hot chocolate and cookies for dessert."

   "We'll be right there," Eddie answers for Steve, who still seems a little frozen in place.

Once the door closes behind her, Steve releases a shaky breath.

   "That- did not go like I thought it would."

For a moment, Eddie worries Steve's going to take it back. That the shock broke him out of whatever spell he was under.

But Steve kisses him again, before taking his hand to lead them back inside, where Wayne greets them with a smug smile. Eddie can practically hear the 'I told you so' but that's okay.

He's happy Wayne was right.

Happy that a little girl's wish aligned so perfectly with his own.

A Christmas wish come true.

[genderqueerdykes]

i really appreciate your kind words and willingness to listen! it's a really shitty situation and i don't want to distract from the main purpose of your blog, but i've seen too many people say Zionist when they really mean "Jew who is ultimately harmless but has opinions I don't like." Ultimately it's best to look at what a person actually has to say about what's happening, and not on what other people call them. Anyways, sending you lots of love from a very tired Jew <3

i just wanted to say i accidentally deleted my reply from your last ask while trying to delete something else because my eyes suck, but i appreciate you coming back again!

of course, and no honestly, it's a great time to talk about it, especially what with it being Hanukkah now. i just hate how this website wears its antisemitism on its sleeve. people will freak out the SECOND they see a Magen David and i'm so sick of it. like idk how to tell you that you kinda can't make any kind of jewish pride flag with a Magen David on it without it looking similar to the Israeli flag because of how simple the Israeli flag is. a Magen David over a queer flag does not instantly mean that person is saying they're Israeli/pro-Israel

people on here will just find every and any reason to proudly display their antisemitism and i absolutely fucking hate it. i hate how people on here water down or just straight up make up their own definitions of Jewish terms and then use things they don't understand as an opportunity to attack jews like it's so painfully obvious. i hate it so much. y'all deserve better

i just. really don't like that you can't even reblog a post on here that says "i love queer jews" without people suddenly being like SO YOU SUPPORT ISRAEL????????????? like. ok. people are just using this as an excuse to be antisemitic like how did you just forget that tons of other jewish people exist. like what we're just gonna pretend they don't exist now ... ? it's gross. i don't like this shit. i'm sorry you have to deal with it. you don't deserve it. and thank you for giving me a chance to learn, that's what i'm here for.

if you observe, i hope you have a wonderful Hanukkah, same goes to all of my other Jewish followers. you deserve love and kindness

[r4fe-cam3ron]

SPECIAL EDITION | CHRISTMAS (BABY, PLEASE COME HOME) — truck driver!e. munson x reader

w; truckdiver!eddie au of course :D, does not follow st, mentions of pregnancy and sickness.

an; MERRY CHRISTMAS! this is my gift to you guys - i hope everyone has a safe and wonderful christmas. stay warm <3 thank you for all of your support!

An agitated huff leaves your lips when a - luckily - plastic ornament falls and bounces close towards the flannel couch. You stare at it dejectedly, walking closer towards the couch. Bending at the hips, you let out a small sound and wince before standing once again, hands landing on your belly. 

“You, little sir, better come soon.” You had till February until Grayson was welcomed into the world. Maybe you could wait a couple more weeks until he popped out.

You stare at the ornament quietly, pouting. It’s silly, getting upset over something that had slipped from your hand and rolled near the couch leg. And you would not call Wayne to walk out into the snow just to come pick up some plastic ball. 

Turning, you decide to plop down near the phone. Your feet prop onto the coffee table in front of you, your eyes landing on the television that plays some sort of commercial for JcPenney's. 

You groan when it comes on, turning your head towards the hallway and stare at the open door. You needed to wrap the last few of Eddie’s presents before he came home. 

He didn’t like leaving you - especially when it’s hard for you to even get up in the morning, let alone being sick every time you fix something to eat. 

Plus - it’s Christmas. Who wants to work on Christmas when you can spend it with loved ones instead? 

The phone ringing quickly catches your attention - you’ll get to wrapping after this phone call, knowing he couldn’t talk long. Reaching over, you quickly press the phone onto your ear. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hi, Mama. How are you?” The name is meant to be endearing, a scoff leaving your lips every time he calls you that jokingly. You need to get used to it was his excuse. 

“I’m okay. About cried over an ornament falling and rolling towards the couch,” You lean your head back. You can hear cars passing by. “This kid of yours is getting in the way.” 

“Well, he is my son,” You can hear the grin in his voice. “I’m sorry I’m not home though. Why didn’t you call Wayne to help put up the rest?” 

“And make the poor man trek through his snow and wind? No way. I’m not doing that to Uncle Wayne,” You shake your head to yourself. “Are you wearing a hat?” 

“Wh— Oh, yeah.” 

“Gloves?” 

“Mhm.”

“What about a scarf and your big, puffy jacket?” Your eyes squint suspiciously at the ceiling. 

“Sure.” 

“Edward Munson.” 

“Uh-oh,” He chuckles. You swore you could hear the chattering of his teeth over the phone. “Full government name. I’ve been bad, huh?” 

“You should not be standing outside in…probably only a flannel, small jacket, some combat boots, and whatever skinny jeans you packed,” You huff. “I don’t want you getting sick.” 

“I'm not going to, sweetheart,” He sounds soft, you could almost drift off to sleep and take a small nap. Wrapping presents. “If it makes you feel any better, I do have the beanie on.” 

“You need the other things on. Not just that,” You grumble. “Promise me you’ll put them on when you get into that truck.” 

“Okay.” 

“Promise me, Eddie.” 

“Okay. Okay. I promise.” He gives in. 

Your lips pull into a grin, nodding to yourself. You had won — again, of course. “Okay, great. Thank you,” You say. “One more question - how is it?” 

“Eh, it’s okay. Roads are a bit backed up since everyone’s traveling home for the holidays,” You frown and glance down at the magazine on the table, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You’re quiet for a moment until Eddie speaks up once again. “Where’d you go, sweetheart?” 

You glance towards the television when a song suddenly starts playing, your bottom lip pushing out slightly. It was one of your favorite Christmas songs - Christmas (Baby, please come home) by Darlene Love. 

The upbeat, happy song that usually had you dancing and giggling now has you tearing up from the words. “I’m here.” 

“What's wrong? Why are you—”

You let out a watery laugh, pressing the tips of your fingers into your forehead as your eyes shut. “I’m fine…I just miss you and this song is making it worse.” 

“The one you like?” 

“Mhm…” You stare at the television. “I’ll let you go, honey. Please, please, please put your jacket, gloves, and scarf on when you get into the truck. And be safe - no road rage either.”

“Me? Road rage?” 

“I’ve known you for 12 years, Eddie,” You deadpan. “Even when Wayne would drive us somewhere, you’d yell from the backseat.” 

He grumbles mostly to himself, but you smile softly. You miss his grumbling. “Okay,” He gives in once again. “I love you. Stay warm, okay?” 

“Okay…you too,” You say, turning towards the table. “I love you. Bye.” 

“Bye, sweetheart.” 

The line goes down and you place the phone back on the receiver, huffing as you scoot your way off the couch. You grab the remote, clicking the television off. Standing, you walk into the kitchen, yelping at the cold tiles and jumping slightly. Spotting Eddie’s slippers, you quickly walk over and push your feet into them before walking back to the fruit bowl. 

You grab a tangerine, the scissors, and tape before making your way into the bedroom. Sighing, you eye the flannels you’d picked out for him and some of his favorite cologne. You place a slice of fruit into your mouth, before settling onto the bed.  

—

Hours had passed, Eddie’s presents had been, not so delicately, placed under the tree. The warm colorful lights make the tinsel shine and you smile sleepily at how cozy everything feels - especially when you snuggle onto the couch with a heating pad and blankets, a couple of pillows pushed under your back. 

You’d made some sugar cookies as well - Grayson, of course, had a sweet tooth. So you had to make them. They're cooling on a plate in the kitchen now. 

You’d turned out the main lights, allowing the trailer to just bask in the warm glow of Christmas lights. The television was playing A Christmas Story - one of Eddie’s favorites and you feel bad for even watching it without him. The volume was down a couple of notches, the wind outside could be heard through the window - the chill of the air sneaking inside making you shiver slightly and pull the blanket higher under your chin. 

You’re comfortable. 

So comfortable you finally drift off after a long, hard day. 

You’re woken up by something brushing against your cheeks, eyes slowly opening. Your vision is a bit blurry and your neck hurts and you can distinctly feel drool slipping past the corner of your lips. Blinking away the heaviness, you can finally make out the wild curls and Eddie’s dimples. 

“Eddie?” You mumble. He chuckles, nodding. He did as he promised - put on the winter clothes you wanted him too. He slips off his gloves, and reaches a hand up, brushing the drool from the corner of your lips. 

“It’s me, sweetheart.” 

“When did…what?” You’re still confused, believing this was truly a dream and it was fake. There was no way Eddie was home, now, in front of you, looking at you as if you’d hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. 

He laughs softly. When you blink once again, his hands grip your cheeks softly, pressing a kiss to your lips. His plush lips were slightly chapped and freezing. You shiver slightly. 

He pulls away and grins at you. You can’t help but think about how cute he looks in that puffer jacket - the fur around the hood had a bit of snow slowly melting into it. The black beanie he wears tapers down his curls to his cheeks, covering his fringe and a bit of his brows. You know his hair is about to look insane. 

“How did you make it home so early?” You reach for him, pulling him close. He smells of his faded cologne and syrup with a hint of hot chocolate. 

“I broke a couple of laws,” He teases, hand landing on top of your stomach softly, thumb sliding back and forth slowly. “Kidding,” He quickly says when he catches the look you give him. 

“I was going to stop at a hotel about an hour ago, but realized how close I was. I decided to go ahead and come home to you because I missed you way too much to stay away any longer.” 

You press a kiss to his cold cheek, draping the blanket over him and pulling him even closer - as much as you could. He lets out a small laugh, kicking his shoes off. 

“You should’ve taken those off by the door.” You mumble, eyes sliding close once again when his fingers lift from your stomach to trace along your cheekbones. 

“I should’ve,” He whispers softly, now tracing above your eyebrow. “But you looked so cute and I had to give you a kiss,” You hum softly. 

“I also got you some hash browns.” His finger trails down the slope of your nose slowly before tracing over your lips. He smirks when one of your eyes open, peeking over at him. 

“Hash browns, you say?” 

“Mhm,” He nods. “Maybe some warm waffles as well.” 

“Have I told you I loved you?” 

“Once or twice.” He shrugs with a cute grin. 

“How about that I’m in love with you?” You open both eyes now, ready to demolish some greasy food. 

“Hm, that’s a new one I think,” He stands from the couch and walks towards the kitchen. He grabs the to-go plates and the cup. He makes his way back, holding them out. “Chocolate milk.” 

“Oh, yes,” He smiles as he watches you grab the food from his hands. You take a sip of the thick chocolate, groaning. “That’s so good. It’s the best chocolate milk I’ve ever had.”

He leans closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I know, baby. That’s why I got you some,” He lifts once again. “I’m gonna go stand under some hot water for a couple of minutes. You need anything?” 

You think but shake your head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, honey.” 

“Okay. Shout if you need anything.” 

You nod and uncover the food, grabbing the plastic fork. Smiling, Eddie walks away, grabbing a sugar cookie as he passes. He steps into the bedroom, flipping on the light. 

“Eddie!” You shout, causing him to trip over his feet. He quickly runs out of the room, stumbling to a stop. 

“What? What is it? What happened?” 

You grin, watching his chest heave as his eyes glance around. “I just wanted to remind you to put your boots by the door.” 

He stares at you before squinting his eyes. “Was that necessary?” He walks over and grabs his boots, walking towards the door and placing them on the small rack. 

You shrug innocently, taking a sip of your chocolate milk. “You said to shout.” 

He hums softly, walking back towards the bedroom. “You’re lucky I love you!” He grabs some clean pajamas and a towel. 

“I am very lucky that you love me!” You call back. Eddie smiles and shakes his head as he closes the door. 

“Merry Christmas to me.” He whispers to himself. 

| tags — @oceanblvd111 ; @ali-r3n

| please do not copy my work! comments, feedbacks, reblogs, & requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated! ❅

| border — @/silkholland

[elliereject]

nailtech!reader x mechanic!ellie drabble!

this came to me while I was doing my nails (cuz I’ll be damned to pay $40 for 3 strips of paint that’s gonna grow out in week)

the first time mechanic!ellie sees you, is also the first time she ever steps foot in a nail salon, clad in her jumpsuit since she had to come right after her shift. dinas wedding was coming up and she requested that all her bridesmaids gets a matching set of acrylics

mechanic!ellie who thanked dina for letting her just get her short nails painted the simple lilac colour all the other girls were getting.

mechanic!ellie who almost trips over the wet floor sign when she sees you working with a client, looking so focused and so beautiful.

mechanic!ellie who allows a few of the other girls to go ahead of her so she can time it right and get paired with you.

mechanic!ellie who feels her heart melt when you shoot her a warm smile and ask her what she’d like done and if she had a reference picture.

she stares at you blankly, and you tell her you’ll just do something you think she’d like and that you'll change it if she wants.

mechanic!ellie who feels her heart pick up in pace when you grab her hands to inspect her sad excuse of a nail bed.

mechanic!ellie who’s caught of guard when you ask her if she scrubs under her nails

mechanic!ellie clears her throat and says “of course I do” after laughing like you had told her the funniest dad joke in the world (she doesn’t and you didn’t)

mechanic!ellie who tries to crack a joke/flirt?? with you by saying “you look stressed, is painting nails that hard?”

mechanic!ellie who’s confused when you shoot her a sideways glance while cutting her rockhard cuticles because she’s a clueless, grimy, loser.

mechanic!ellie tries to lighten the tension by telling a joke, “hey uh, do you know how you can tell if a mechanic had sex?”

“..what?”

“their middle fingernail’s clean.”

it’s one Joel had told her when she was younger and she hadn't quite understood it, but once she took on the business…well let’s just say it was pretty accurate.

mechanic!ellie who chuckles nervously when you give her a blank stare before cracking a small smile,

she got you.

mechanic!ellie, now that she knows you don’t think she’s a waste of space, talks to you easier and finds out that you’re still in school, but your aunt owns the salon, and you’re working here for experience. your favourite colour to work with is blue, and you once had to tackle a lady who tried to leave without paying.

all’s going well until mechanic!ellie asks you what you’re in school for and shoots you a look when you say this.

“seriously? you don’t want a real job where you like actually work with your hands or something?”

mechanic!ellie says because she’s a STUPID, clueless, grimy, loser.

“what the—this is a real job and I do work with my hands.”

“no, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t actually.” you end the conversation by putting both her hands in the curing machines and getting up to help one of your coworkers.

to mechanic!ellie’s surprise, when the machines beep it’s not you who continues working on her nails, but one of your older coworkers. she feels a pang of confusion and hurt in her chest but quickly shuts it up as she notices most of the bridal party is already done.

mechanic!ellie who looks at her hands a sighs, it was..alright, after you left the lady who took over didn’t really know what you were going for, so it was kind of mismatched but from far away it looked fine.

mechanic!ellie who pays and leaves with the rest of the party and feels her heart sink when she waves at you and you completely turn around.

mechanic!ellie who tells dina about what happened over FaceTime later that night and is taken back when she calls her a stupid idiot.

mechanic!ellie who finds out just how much work nail technicians go through to be able to run a business, plus how much they do for others.

mechanic!ellie who after hanging up googles a bit more about nail techs and reads stories or watches videos about people explaining how their nail tech practically saved their life and how nail art is a way for someone to express themselves as well as a tedious art form that takes patience and heaps of skill.

mechanic!ellie who feels like the biggest idiot ever and gives herself 30 minutes to wallow in self-pity before deciding she needed to find a way to make it right.

mechanic!ellie shows up to your studio right after dinas wedding, still clad in her lilac and off-white tailored suit, luckily she caught you outside just as you were locking up.

mechanic!ellie who apologizes profusely for being such a dumbass, infodumps everything she's learned about nail techs from her research, and explains that she thinks you're very cute and would love to get to know you more.

mechanic!ellie who trails off when you begin to giggle.

"so you did some research?" you offered her a small smile.

"tons," she nodded. "and i'm sorry."

you leaned against the door and smiled wider this time, "you already said that."

she nodded again, "right."

the two of you stared at each other for a second.

mechanic!ellie who breaks the silence first.

"would it be forward to ask you to accompany me as my date to the after-party?"

"it would," you tease. "but i accept."

mechanic!ellie who lets out a sigh of relief before pulling a gorgeous lilac and lily bouquet from behind her back.

"thank god, because it would've been really embarrassing if I'd won the bouquet toss for nothing."

you take the flowers, your smile faltering as you gaze down at your dusty crocs and polish-stained apron "you sure i'm okay to go like this?"

"you look beautiful." mechanic!ellie says honestly.

you nod but she still senses some apprehension, in a quick motion, she reaches behind you and into a potted plant placed before the entrance, smearing dirt on her pants and suitjacket.

"ellie!" you gasp which turns into a shocked giggle.

she grinned, "see, now it just looks like we’re making a statement."

you roll your eyes playfully and the two of you walk, arms interlinked, to her truck and only separate so she can open the door for you.

if anybody wonders who you are, nobody asks, although the two of you do garner a few judgemental glances at the state of your attire.

mechanic!ellie still with that grin on her face pulls the two of you from the open bar onto the dance floor when a slow song starts up, gathering you in her arms and swaying slowly to the sappy music.

mechanic!ellie who knows her face is practically fluorescent after you place a peck to her cheek.

mechanic!ellie who doesn't care one bit.

— ★

sorry if the first part of this is buns i wrote it like over a year ago and just finished it now it’s also my first time writing a blurb like this :p

[thezombieprostitute]

Taking Care of You

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: hot chocolate/apple cider/tea and a nice book

Warnings: Implied smut, Language, Pregnancy. Please let me know if I'm missing any!

Series Masterlist

You were sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, alternating between watching the snow fall and reading your book while drinking cider made from the apples you and Steve had picked earlier in the year. Back before you knew you were pregnant.

Your smile widens at the memory of Steve trying to tell you about it. That it was the reason he'd been in such a territorial, protective mood. You weren't upset with him but you did ask about a pregnancy test or two to confirm. He understood and not only got you the pregnancy tests but also got you a doctor appointment to confirm. Sure enough, you were about a month along then.

Since then Steve has been going into overdrive to make sure you and the baby are safe and comfortable. Emphasis on the comfortable. You never thought you'd go for the kind of man that takes care of almost literally everything for you, but Steve might be changing your mind on that. He somehow manages to be around all the time without feeling suffocating. Even when you go into town together and he's in full on guard mode. If anything, his caring, protective side just makes your hormones go even more out of control.

As if on cue, Steve comes into the living room from his workshop. He's been working on a handmade crib for the little one, insisting he wants the pup to be surrounded by familial scents. He must have worked up a sweat because his shirt is off and you lick your lips at his exposed torso. You gently squeeze your thighs together and he gives you a knowing look.

"Does my girl need some attention?" he almost growls.

"Please, Steve," you whine.

"Tell me what you need, Doll."

"I need you to fuck me, Steve," you whimper. "I need you to fill my pussy with your cock, please!"

Steve's pupils are blown as he starts unwrapping you from your blankets. "It'll cost you, you know."

"What's the price?" you moan. The blankets are off and his hands are pushing down your sweatpants.

"First I get to eat your pussy like it's my last meal."

A shiver runs down your spine as you whimper, "yes, please."

You're woken up by the sound of Steve's voice. You feel a slight pressure on your stomach and, after blinking a few times, you realize Steve is talking to the small bump created by the baby.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," he confesses to the baby bump. "But I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you and your mama are safe and happy." He pauses for a few moments. "That being said, we gotta have a talk about your eating habits. I get that you want a lot of protein but you need to let Mama eat some vegetables. You both need the nutrients. It can't be steak, pork chops, and ham all the time. Though you do seem to accept soups and stir fry. Maybe Mama can teach me how to make those so she can rest some more. Don't think I haven't noticed how tired she's gotten. Seriously, you gotta let her eat some veggies."

His one-sided conversation is interrupted by your giggles.

"Excuse you," he playfully chides, "I'm having a conversation here."

"You're talking to my belly," you counter.

"I'm talking to our baby, thank you."

You both smile softly when he says that. You gesture for him to move in close for a kiss and he acquiesces.

"And I know you're going to be a great dad," you assure him, making his cheeks turn pink.

"We won't know for certain until the baby is here."

"Trust me," you hug him. "You're already working hard to make sure this baby has a great start in life. You've even been reaching out to other werewolves, something you've never done before, just to ask about things for me and the baby. You swallowed your pride for us. That's no small endeavor."

Steve nuzzles his beard against your neck. "Thank you for giving me a much better, richer life than I ever thought I'd get."

"My pleasure, Steve."

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

I'm carried by the Living God, briskly transported to the depths of the temple.

With my body under the influence of the aphrodisiac, I can't move carelessly, and all my effort goes into not being conscious of the warmth of his touch.

(At this point, I don't care if it's for a fee or whatever. If there's a way to break free from this situation—)

Azel: Now, pray sincerely to the God.

Azel: Simply clasping your hands and praying is not enough. You must convey your sincerity to the God.

Azel: Fortunately, the God loves fine cuisine. By offering a special dish that will make him smack his lips…

Azel: The God will hear your prayer and dispel the affliction that plagues you.

Azel: See? It's easy, isn't it?

Emma: Yes, it is. I'd like to try it right away.

Emma: —Did you think I'd fall for that!? This is no different from usual!

Azel: Do you usually offer prayers? You didn't seem like the type.

Azel shrugs theatrically as he sets me down on the kitchen floor.

The compassionate smile that existed just seconds ago shatters, and the greedy, evil God descends once again.

Azel: And also, don't come near me.

Emma: I wouldn't come near you even if you asked me to.

Azel: That's good to hear. Well then, do your best with your prayers.

Azel: Oh, and I'll add the information fee from just now to your bill.

Emma: It's profiteering to charge me for just that information!

Azel: You're calling it profiteering without even trying it?

Emma: You're just using the aphrodisiac as an excuse to exploit me as usual, aren't you?

Azel: That's right, but?

(He's refreshingly honest!)

Azel: In reality, the aphrodisiac will naturally leave your system with time.

Azel: All you can do is sleep or distract yourself. Those are your two options.

Emma: Then I'll sleep.

Azel: Rejected.

Emma: Why!?

Azel: I'll get hungry, won't I? You might as well use your time effectively.

Emma: ......

Azel: And also…

Azel's gaze shifts slightly, and as if on cue, the door opens.

Appearing in the kitchen is Kamal, who, as always, possesses an eye-catching beauty.

Azel: Thank you for your hard work.

Kamal places the hemp sack she was carrying on the counter.

When our eyes meet, she gives me a bewitching smile, and despite being the same gender, I almost feel my heart skip a beat.

Emma: What's this?

Azel: A change of clothes. You don't want to stay in that outfit forever, do you?

Azel: After all, that outfit is an indecent one that women in the harem wear only to attract the king's attention.

(What? No one told me that!?)

Azel: Oh my, that reaction… You didn't know? Poor you.

Emma: I was told it was a fashionable outfit in Tanzanite…

Azel: That's not wrong. It's a fashionable outfit in the "harem" of Tanzanite.

(...Shoot, I was tricked…)

I thought it was just a revealing outfit, but I didn't find it odd because I'd seen women in the castle wearing similar clothes from time to time.

The maids' intentions are clear, and I clutch my head.

(There are traps everywhere.)

(...I'm starting to feel like I can't trust anything.)

Of course, the perfume and the harem outfit might have been prepared out of goodwill.

However, there's nothing in it for me to be happy about.

Azel: Kamal, thank you for listening to my sudden request.

Kamal conveys something to Azel with a hand gesture as Azel smiles.

Azel: I understand what you want to say, but let's talk about that later.

(Come to think of it, when did he have Kamal prepare the change of clothes?)

(Azel has been with me ever since we arrived at the temple.)

(He shouldn't have had time to talk to Kamal.)

While pondering this, I peek into the hemp sack.

The dress Kamal prepared for me is so beautiful that I can't help but gasp in admiration.

The dress, made of a fabric that looks like it's woven with stardust unique to Tanzanite, has a peculiar shape when you look closely. Even when spread out, I can't tell where to put my arms through.

Emma: Living God, may I ask a silly question…?

Azel: Ah, you don't know how to put it on?

Emma: …It seems so.

Azel: You just have to wrap it around yourself.

(If Kamal wasn't here, I would have been made fun of.)

Azel approaches, takes the dress from me, and puts it over my head with a gesture devoid of any tenderness.

Perhaps he was trying to wrap the hanging cloth around my waist, but his hand touches my body for a moment—

Emma: Ah…

(...!)

My sweet voice melts into the silent space filled with nothing but the rustling of clothes.

(I hate this…)

I'm so embarrassed I want to cry, I want to disappear, and I bite my lip so hard it almost bleeds.

But Azel ties the cloth without changing his expression and moves away.

Azel: I apologize… I'm not good at tying.

Azel: The shape is messy, but you understand how to wear it, right?

(Did he perhaps not hear my voice?)

(...Thank goodness. It's a small mercy.)

Azel: Once you've changed, don't leave this room.

Azel: Or rather, I'll lock the door so you can't leave even if you want to.

Emma: That sounds like confinement—

Azel: It's protection. By the way, I'm in the mood for freshly baked bread today. With cream.

Azel: I'm looking forward to it.

Leaving only his selfish order, Azel quickly leaves the room.

Kamal, who follows him, glances at me and leaves with a meaningful smile.

(What was that just now?)

-

The God, who had left the kitchen, walked down the hallway and stopped abruptly when he reached the entrance.

Azel: That was a blunder.

Kamal: Indeed. But her being an idiot is nothing new.

The bewitching beauty smiled and leaned against the railing as she spoke.

Kamal: How much did you see?

Azel: Everything, of course.

Azel: You can move right away, can't you?

Kamal: If I can use Izzet.

Azel: I don't mind. Finish it by today.

Kamal: What will you do with the hunted prey?

Azel: The God himself will show him a nightmare.

Azel: A special nightmare that will make him unable to wake up again, a living hell.

The incoming light enveloped the God, creating deep, dark shadows.

There was no compassion there, only disgust reflected in his star-filled eyes.

Kamal: …You're angrier than I expected.

Azel: I'm not angry, just disgusted.

Kamal: Either way, this isn't an unexpected turn of events, is it?

Azel: No. The God can perform divination that's equal to clairvoyance, seeing into the future.

Azel: However, all I can predict are "events."

Azel: I don't care what people think or how they feel as a result of those events.

Azel: Even if I can make statistical predictions, they're not always accurate.

Kamal: So, she reacted in a way you didn't expect, and you felt sympathy?

Azel: No way. It's just…

Azel: If she's a victim caught in the crossfire, she should be angry or scolding me, but she gave me the most difficult reaction to deal with.

Kamal: How unreasonable.

Azel: Unreasonable is fine. That's why I hate good people.

Azel: Even when faced with absurdity, they try to swallow it all. They should just lash out at something.

Kamal: Ah, I know. There's one troublesome child like that. She's a relative of mine—

Azel: Shut up.

Kamal: Oh, scary.

Azel: … Sigh…

Kamal: So, what are you going to do? If she returns to the castle, she might face even worse humiliation than today.

Azel: In that case, the Rhodolite guests won't stay silent.

Azel: It wouldn't be bad to deliberately cause trouble and have Tanzanite withdraw.

Kamal: Logically, yes. But what about her heart?

Kamal: An ordinary girl is given an aphrodisiac and forcibly exposed in such a way?

Kamal: And if the timing is bad, it could happen in front of everyone.

Azel: ..........

Kamal: Shall I protect her?

Azel: You don't want your true colors revealed, do you?

Kamal: How cruel to call it my true colors!

Azel: It would be traumatizing in a different way, so stop it.

Azel: Besides, I want to avoid you attracting the High Priest's attention by acting rashly.

Azel: Especially not now.

Kamal: …That's true.

Azel: I'm the only one who can protect her.

Azel: But I don't want to let her live here. It's disgusting.

Kamal: Then you have no choice but to abandon her.

Kamal: Oh, how pitiful. Dragged into this by the God's whim, she'll be left with emotional scars that will never fade…

Kamal: Her dignity as a human being will be shattered, and yet she'll still smile bravely. That type of girl…

Kamal: She doesn't want to worry others, so she keeps all her most important feelings bottled up inside…

Kamal: Well, I'm sure the God knows everything even if I don't say it.

Azel: …That's true.

Azel: Even if that happens, it has nothing to do with me.

-

(I wonder when this will go back to normal…)

I knead the dough vigorously in the bowl.

Several kinds of freshly baked bread have already been made, and the counter is bustling.

There's no need to make any more, but I couldn't let go of the only way to calm my agitated heart.

(Azel said it would subside with time, but my body is still hot.)

My escaping breath is strangely seductive, and the shame almost brings tears to my eyes again.

Whether it's because of the aphrodisiac or my worn-out spirit, I still can't shake the feeling of my wet cheeks.

(Will I be drugged again when I return to the castle?)

(...It was a good thing only Azel saw me today, but if…)

(If I suddenly end up like this in front of a lot of people, I might not be able to recover.)

Just as I slam the dough against the bowl once more, the lock clicks open.

Azel: Thank you for your hard work. You're quite the baker.

Emma: …I had a lot of time.

Azel: You were able to spend it meaningfully, right? You should thank me.

Emma: …

Azel: Oh my…

(Did he see the tear stains…?)

I hurriedly lower my eyes and focus on the dough.

I knead the dough over and over again, even though it doesn't need to be kneaded anymore—

Emma: I think it's better if you don't come near me until the aphrodisiac wears off.

Azel: I wouldn't come near you even if you didn't tell me not to, but we need to leave soon or it will be night.

(It's already that late?)

(...I have to go back. I don't have the courage to walk through the desert at night.)

Emma: I'll bake the rest of the dough when I come back.

I cover the bowl with a cloth to let the dough rest and place it in a cool, dark place.

Carefully, with slow movements, so as not to aggravate the itchy heat in my stomach.

Emma: Can I return to the castle wearing this dress?

Azel: Do as you like.

Emma: Thank you.

Azel: But it'll cost you.

Emma: …I thought you'd say that.

Azel: There's nothing scarier than free goodwill.

Emma: That's a nice way to put it.

I quickly finish cleaning up and try to head for the exit.

But the God blocks my way, and I can't go any further.

Emma: The confinement is over, isn't it?

Azel: …

Emma: I made your meal for today.

Azel: …

Emma: I should be able to go home now.

Azel: You have something you want to say, don't you?

He hits the mark, and my shoulders shake.

Azel, with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall, gives me a quiet look as if he's trying to gauge my mood.

Azel: Speak.

Emma: …

Azel: I encouraged you to pray to the God, didn't I?

Emma: If I pray… will you listen?

Azel: Who knows. At the very least, the Living God chooses who he listens to.

Azel: It depends on your attitude.

(Maybe it's because he's a God. It feels like he can see right through my heart.)

Encouraged by his mystical eyes that hold the starry sky, I somehow manage to gather my scattered words.

Emma: …From tomorrow, I would like to have at least meals with the Living God.

Emma: After what happened, I've become scared of the food at the castle…

I try to smile and appear calm.

To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm smiling properly because I'm desperately trying to suppress the heat raging inside me, but I didn't want to blame Azel excessively.

(Because… I'm not the real victim.)

Emma: Is that not allowed?

Azel: …

Emma: …Living God?

Azel: …

Emma: What's wrong—

Azel: …Damn it—!

(!?)

For some reason, Azel suddenly punches the wall and glares at me with a grim expression.

There's something so terrifying about him that it makes me freeze.

Azel: Get angry if you're angry, cry if you want to cry, just pick one! It's annoying!

Azel: Don't try to endure it with that creepy smile, it's a critical hit to my mental state.

(To… To think that Azel would be concerned about such a thing…!)

Azel: You never worry about me, do you?

Azel: I'm allowing your rude behavior, so stop making that face that clearly hides your true feelings.

Azel: You should say something like, "It's your fault, so hurry up and prepare a bed for me somewhere other than the castle," or something.

Emma: …Well, that's partly incorrect.

Azel: Then what is it?

Emma: I don't think the Living God is "in the wrong."

Emma: The ones in the wrong are those who try to impose their selfish desires using such underhanded methods.

Azel: …

Emma: Just because you're a God doesn't mean you have to accept everything with compassion.

(The more clearly I express it in words, the more I understand how I feel.)

(It's true that I'm just caught up in this mess with Azel because of the debt, but…)

(Azel isn't using me because he wants to, either.)

Emma: …It's not fair.

Emma: The Living God answers the prayers of the people, but the Living God's prayers don't reach the people.

Emma: Then I wondered who would help the Living God…

Emma: When I thought about it, I realized that I might be the only one right now, so I couldn't bring myself to blame you.

Now it's Azel's turn to be dumbfounded.

The awkward silence weighs heavily when the loquacious God becomes speechless.

Emma: But… um…

Emma: If… If I may speak my mind…

Emma: …I still don't want to go back to the castle…

(Azel said I don't have to endure it.)

(Maybe he'll change his mind and try to help me—)

Azel: That's rejected.

Emma: The flow of the conversation clearly indicated that you would listen to me!?

Azel: I didn't make any promises, please don't misunderstand.

Azel: Honestly, I don't care if you're drugged with an aphrodisiac or whatever, as long as I'm safe.

Emma: That's cruel.

Azel: Thank you for the compliment.

Azel: I want you to return to the castle as soon as possible, but…

With a disgruntled attitude, Azel reaches for the freshly baked bread.

The God takes a bite of the bread I baked with cream, as requested, and furrows his brow in a complicated manner.

Azel: Well then… For the sake of the freshly baked bread, I'll consider giving you an employment test.

Emma: Employment… test…?

Azel: I have no intention of keeping an incompetent person by my side.

Azel: But if there's a benefit to me having you live and work here, that's a different story.

(...!)

The God, showing an unprecedented compromise and willingness to meet me halfway, forms a compassionate smile that seems to radiate a halo.

Azel: What can you do for me?

.

.

.

Chapter 8

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[trixter-god]

Classical Conditioning

Paring: Bruce Wayne x Logan Howllet

Summery: Logan and Bruce play a game of cat and mouse or is Bat and Wolverine?

Warning/tags: smut, 18+, one shot, mlm, gay, old man yaoi, cursing/profanity, jealousy, crack ship, self indulgent, oral (male receiving), I gave Bruce normal friends

Chapters: 1/1 (completed)

Words: 4572

An: Merry Christmas and happy holidays you filthy animals. Everyone thank MCR for keeping me up long to finish this lmao.

How did he even end up in this situation? That question had become a staple in Logan's everyday life as of late. It certainly didn’t help that he somehow found a home in the worst city on the east coast. Gotham city for all its mysteries and ever rising crime rates was at its core just some shitty new jersey city. Yet only this one kept Logan coming back like he was out of cigar’s needing a nicotine fix. He’d normally blame his old age for making him circle back to old haunts wondering if anything he remembered stayed the same but he’d also be stupid to admit he was sticking around for merely nostalgic reasons. He could still hear Scott’s laugh ringing in his ears thinking about the call he made what felt like forever ago telling Scott he was staying in this hellhole for a bit longer than originally planned only to find increasingly dumber excuses to not head back upstate. No he was here because he somehow found someone who understood him before they even said two words to each other. Someone that he could relate to without having to hide the darker parts of himself. A fact that still made Logan uncomfortable if he thought too hard about it but luckily his thoughts don’t normally linger. Plus he hasn’t made a run for it yet so he assumed this was going well. Logan would never say it out loud because it would make him sound like one of Rouge’s shitty romance novels but he was stuck in Gotham because of a man. A paranoid, stubborn, hypocritical, annoyingly charming, and very pretty man.

Which is why Logan was now sitting at the bar of some overpacked, overpriced club he swore he wasn’t gonna be at. With a dark whisky in one hand and his other digging into the meat of his thigh so as not to leave dents in the dark wood in front of him. The deep crease in his brow and the almost permanent frown on his lips gave out the obvious signs he didn’t want to be here. Though that didn’t stop the occasional drunk girl who was dared by her equally drunk friends to talk to him. Thankfully they were easily shooed away with a raised eyebrow or a firm no to their advances. Not like he wouldn’t be interested if it was any other night he just had a very specific itch he needed to scratch that only could only be done by the only other person in this room who probably had every exit mapped out in his head just in case. He was just about to ask for a new drink when that fucking addictive smell hits him again. Leather, citrus, pine, something else that Logan didn’t know but made the crease in his brow deepen. Sharp brown eyes cut through the crowd of drunks to the vip lounge where sat the reason why Logan was sitting in a hard ass barstool in increasingly uncomfortable jeans.

Bruce Wayne.

Orphan, playboy, millionaire, pain in his ass, and dressed like the fucking Holster store mannequin he was. Sleeves rolled to the elbow accentuating his arms in that dark blue practically see through button down which was unbutton to an outrageous degree. Bruce’s synthetic second skin worked overtime to cover up the miles of scarred and torn flesh that only Logan had memorized like the back of his own hands. Giving anyone with a pair of eyes the view of his tone physique. All tucked into those fucking pants.

Where the fuck did those even come from? Logan wasn’t one for keeping close attention to someone’s fashion choices but he would have definitely remembered tearing those in two. black slacks made from some expensive fabric just tight enough to accentuate what Bruce woke up at unholy hours of the morning to train for. If the place wasn't packed in like sardines Logan would have dragged Gotham’s sworn protector by his perfectly disheveled hair back home to that obnoxiously big bed of his. Finally get to sink his canines into that teasing smell that has been following him the whole night. Just a hint of that disgusting concoction of scents it was over. Logan was hot wired to it like the good hunting dog he was and he wasn’t leaving without his prey. Yet why did it feel like he was the one being hunted?

Bruce was barely listening to whatever the story was being told to the table. He’s been barely participating since that pissed off Canadian took a seat at the bar. Giving a nod or a laugh when it was appropriate but studying the way Logan’s shoulders would tighten when the air vent perfectly positioned above his head would turn on in ten minute cycles knowing with that enhanced sense of smell that Lo possesses could pick him out even in a room full of sweat and alcohol. Bruce normally hated the feeling of being quietly tracked but it was different when he was asking for it. That rush of adrenaline he’d been normally numb too thanks to his nightly escapades now crawled over his skin. The bat did have a reputation of killing the mood. He just wasn't aware how much it had bleed into his personal life. That was probably why Bruce has gotten increasingly attracted to danger over the years and what's more dangerous than willingly being stalked by an apex predator.

It was a simple case of classical conditioning, something that Bruce found increasingly more entertaining even if it was an accident. Who would have known Logan's mutant genes made him more susceptible to being easily persuaded by just a bit of cologne. Now Bruce knows he isn’t absolutely innocent that his instinctually inclined friend seemed to want to jump his bones the moment he got even a single inkling that Bruce was gonna touch that bottle that sat in the back of his bathroom cabinet let alone wear it out anywhere. Sure it was “brucie’s” signature scent and maybe it's the only strong cologne he wears in general but he did have no intention of turning Logan into a Pavlo’s dog experiment. Happy accidents and all that.

A hard glare was shot his way after only five minutes of Logan pretending he wasn’t sitting roughly 13.65 feet away. Not that Bruce cared all that much, Logan can stew at the bar for as long as he wants. He doesn't assume that that will be much longer, coinciding Logan's right hand having been firmly drugged into the thigh of his well-worn jeans for an hour now. Not to mention that prominent vein just peeking out of the collar of his flannel. Wonder how long it would take before Bruce finally got to see it pop.

Now Bruce did ask if he wanted to come out with him tonight. Maybe finally meet the few people he considers his normal friends but no. Logan said he was quite content staying home watching tv and loosely keeping an eye on the kids while Batman was off duty for the evening. Which Bruce was fine with even if he did intentionally rummage in the “what happens in boring school stays in boarding school” section of his closet. Squeezing his now built frame into pants that used to be baggy on him. Getting an ego boost that he could in fact still fit in them yet increasingly more humbled as he struggled to button them for longer than he’d say aloud.

Bruce’s calculated thoughts were broken up by a soft hand against his chest bringing him back to the party he was supposed to be participating in. The semimonthly gathering of his old college friends. Michael, Ben, both his college roommate at Gotham Academy for the five months of pre-med he took before realizing there was no fun in being his father. Michael’s wife Michelle who hasn’t looked up from her phone since they arrived, and Nicole, an old fling of his, highly intelligent woman, sat pressed against his side batting her heavy lidded eyes at him innocently as if her stiletto nails hadn't been not so subtly tracing any portion of his exposed skin all night. He gave a smile that wasn’t meant for her catching the sudden hard scrape of a bar stool from the other side of the room.

Logan can’t tell what’s pissing him off more, the shitty DJ that doesn’t believe in too much base, the cheap ass whiskey he was forcing down that was more bite than burn or the way those famous steel blue eyes catch his glare just long enough to tell him what he already knows. He’s being played like a goddamn fiddle. Actually it was probably that pretty little blonde who’d been hanging off HIS billion dollar baby the whole night. Sitting so close she was practically in Bruce’s lap.

The blonde makes a bold move which makes the glass in Logan’s hand threaten to crack under his grip. Her hand slipped down the front of that deep navy button up, ghosting over the very open front of Bruce’s shirt to get a feel of what Logan’s knows first hand is well trained muscle. Logan bites back the growl that wanted to crawl out of his throat when Bruce— no not Bruce. Brucie cracked a shit eating grin at the bold blonde. Well truly it was a gentle charming smile but Logan knew fucking better.

He should’ve been embarrassed of how fast he succumbed, It was probably a new record honestly, if his brain wasn’t busy imagining the way he wanted to become front page news for Vale’s gossip blog. He could see the headlines now. “Bruce Wayne bent over in front of the crowd” maybe she’d make some shitty pun that he’d have no choice but send it to Wade, that's if that loud mouth wouldn’t already be blowing up his phone with those fucking emoticons that somehow mean something suggestive. Why did he even mention that walking ball of cocaine and cancer? He’s not even here and yet the mere thought killed his very small buzz. Logan rubbing his face before downing the rest of his whisky hoping it would keep him satisfied for now. He had a point to prove. A point he didn’t know but peeled himself out of his favorite recliner to follow Gotham’s Prince downtown to some shit club anyway. Logan gave his head a shake before getting back up, keeping his back to temptation to go sneak a smoke outside.

Bruce gave a pout watching Logan head out the front and not towards him. Looks like Wolverine is finally getting used to his tricks. Bruce noted that for next time already thinking of the needed adjustments.

“What’s wrong Bruce? Is Michael boring you as bad as he is me?” Ben’s voice cut through his thoughts making his pout turn into an awkward smile. Bruce couldn’t even think of an excuse before Michael’s heavy old Gotham accent butted in.

“Oh piss off benny boy, everyone loves my stories.”

“They love your stories all right. Everyone at this table knows that after you took that fist to the face Kevin had to pull you out.” Ben crossed his arms leaning back into his chair. His signature smirk landed on his lips.

“Tomatoes, tomatoes. So I took the first hit. It doesn't matter who actually finished the guy off, we all won.” Micheal tried to wave Ben’s comments off.

“If I remember correctly we all got detention for a month.” Bruce finally found his footing picking up his barely touched glass of champagne. Giving the glass a small swirl in his fingers just keeping busy. “Not to mention you got a concussion.”

“Yeah, but we won. Which reminds me of another story.” Micheal retells some story about his football years. Snapping at the young waitress who was checking another table. Earning him a solid hit in the shoulder by his wife, Michelle, making Ben let out a snort.

“Eyes in the back of her head.” came a much softer voice to his left. Nicole made her quiet presence known with a hand on this thigh looking out in the direction Logan disappeared from. She rested her chin in her hand giving him a knowing glance.

“Who’s the cowboy?” She asked, amused.

Bruce gives her his best shifty eyed confused expression as he made sure no one else was listening. Luckily Ben was too focused on correcting everything that’s coming out of Micheal’s mouth and Michael is just trying to yell over him that they don’t notice. Michell never looked up from her phone.

“What?” Bruce breathed out pretending to be flustered in confusion.

She only narrows her eyes looking him up and down. The woman used to be an analyst; she could smell tension before she knew there was tension. Dangerous skill to have so close to you, one he had even closer at one point in the past. He Should have known better than to date a physiatrist but you live and you learn.

Nichole drums her well kept nails on the top of the table. “Oh please, you’ve been pining all night.” She lowered her voice taking a long sip of her martini.

“He’s a good catch, how’d you get him?”

Bruce chuckled, his eyes couldn’t help but drift over to Logan’s now empty seat at the bar. How did he do it? Bruce remembers how it started, a rather intense argument over something he couldn’t remember that turned into an event that The Hall of Justice had seen before. Yes, those tapes were deleted and yes, it did end up happening again. Far too many times until it evolved into whatever it was now. Too serious to be a fling yet they were far too old to be boyfriends. Maybe partners was the correct word even if it made Bruce feel very old. He didn’t like to linger on a title and Logan ever cared to name it.

“Just picked him up one day, haven’t let him go yet.” He shrugged at the blonde. “I have a problem with picking up strays.” That earned him a small chuckle even though he was serious.

“I understand that.” Nicole tipped her glass to him and he in turn did the same. The soft clink seemed to echo between them.

・・・・・

The night air in Gotham was always cold. Something Logan found oddly comforting about the city. The end of his cigar bloomed in the darkness of the alley as the music from the club thumped quietly through the wall behind his head. He rolled his shoulders back hearing a rare pop from his spine. The tension in his neck released, making a string of repetitive words tumble out of his mouth on instinct. “I'm too old for this.”

He debates with himself again, that urge to leave, another to just throw his patience out the window. Logan watched the smoke disappear from his lips into the dark night around him as the sound of rusty hinges echoed in alleyways. His nose twitched. Leather, citrus, and pine. A dangerous combination and yet he didn’t make a single effort to leave. The sound of expertly polished shoes echoed in the small alley until that smell turned into heat by his side. Logan picked up his head to look over at his… at Bruce. Bruce didn’t return the gesture instead staring off at the door he just snuck out from. How he managed to get away from a crowd without worry was something only he could pull off. The tension was softer than it was inside.

“Does this mean i win?” His voice was rougher than intended as he talked around the cigar on his lips. Logan mentally thanked the cold for that as he took one last puff before snuffing out his cigar against that palm of his hand. That burn was welcomed as the action made the heat beside him scoff. “Got something to say princess or you just gonna play mute?’

Bruce hummed softly in response. If Logan didn’t have such good hearing he would have missed that almost mocking sound. “Thought you didn’t want to come out tonight.” Bruce’s words teased him just an octave higher than normal. That pretty boy persona got harder and harder to slip from when he was being smug. Logan could knock his perfect teeth out right now and not feel bad.

“Changed my mind.” Logan shrugged, pocketing his cigar in for later. “Not that i had much choice” he gave the taller man a well deserved once over. The glow of the moon above mixed with the club’s neon casted the dark knight in a familiar way. It was honestly unfair that one man could look good no matter if he was pretending to be an urban legend or slumping with the first class. Now closer Logan could see that Bruce decided to wear his earrings for the first time in who knows how long. Little black studs glistened in the low light. And was he wearing eyeliner? It was smudged to an unrecognizable degree but it was there. Detailed oriented his bat was, which only solidified that he was set up from the start. Logan ran his tongue against the inside of his cheek as a poor attempted to silence himself but since when has that ever worked. Logan unconsciously leaned closer, his senses burned. “Can't have you walking around like a cheap whore, bub”

The smallest of smirks formed across Bruce’s lips as his eyes dropped to watch that vein in Logan's neck finally pop. Letting out a rare chuckle as he pulled his gaze away shaking his head. “Please, I'm anything but cheap Lo.”

His nickname felt like velvet in winter as it rattled around in the night. It was the same unoriginal name he’s had for years but it alway sounded different from him. It sounded right. If he wasn’t already so stupidly obsessed with that man next to him. Bruce would have caught him off guard just enough to shut him up.

“So you’re a rich whore?” Logan didn’t miss a beat with his comeback as they somehow got even closer.

“Why? Want one?” Bruce countered with a skilled practice. It was instinctual, the joking comment slipped from his lips like a bullet in the chamber even as the shot rang out it left a heavy weight behind.

There was a stand still then, as they stared silently at each other. The sting was pulled so thin between them it didn’t take much for the snap. This time it was Bruce’s callused hands making their way into Logan's hair pulling him into a heated kiss which pulled a deep growl from the other as thick fingers dug into the artificially perfect skin he forced himself to wear in public. Teeth clacked against each other as animal instincts kicked in. Logan took advantage of his strength and pressed that intoxicating smell into the cement wall. Not caring as the noticeable smack of what had to be Bruce’s skull hit the brick. Logan’s knee slotted between Bruce's legs pressing into his harding cock. The whine that slipped his lips was like a well deceived award for having to put up with his well planned torment all night. Reasoning thrown out the window as their bodies gilded messily across each other like horny teenagers practically devouring the other until those dangerous hands tighten in Logan’s hair pulling another growl.

“Fuck, Lo.” Bruce broke the kiss, sucking in the cool night air into his lungs felt like fire. His hips not stopping in their attempts to basically hump Logan’s thigh. His already uncomfortable attire rubbed just right against his cock. Logan wasted no time to dig his canines into his throat. Biting just hard enough to leave an imprint yet he didn’t break skin. Not now anyways.

“What, bub? Ain't this what you wanted?” Logan dragged his teeth over his neck, marking over that pale expanse of his throat. “Huh? Wearing that fucking collone like you don’t know what it dose it me.” His voice was nothing but rasp. Teetering just close enough into Logan's feral territory that Bruce couldn’t help the groan that slipped his lips. “Dressing like fucking sex on legs. Do i even want to know when you got these fucking pants?” To further push his point home Logan hands cupped a fair amount of his ass through the tight fabric. Bruce bucked his hips in retaliation. The friction makes both of them hiss.

“Fucking brat.” Logan spat, grabbing a fist full of Bruce's thin shirt to force him down to his knees. The playboy silently cures his choice in fashion when he feels just how tight his pants pressed back into him. Bruce swears he can hear the stitching against his thighs screaming for help not to mention the actual crack his knees make. He cursed under his breath as hands found Logan’s waist for stability.

His eye flicked from the bulge he was now eye level with to Logan's blown wide pupils. Bruce's hands popped off that obnoxious belt buckle Logan loved to wear with a practice ease acting like he wasn’t the one on his knees. His lips dragged over dented denim making Logan choked out a curse from above. Bruce continued to mouthed Logan through his pants until he felt a hand grab a fist full of his hair tugging a pained moan out of him. Bruce popped off the button of Logan's jeans, unzipping them and pulling him free from his flannel boxers.

Logan’s cock stood proudly now free from its confines. Its reddened head weeped pre-cum from the slit. Bruce smirked, wanting to say something snarky only to look up to meet pleading brown eyes. Okay so maybe he was being too much of an ass all night. Though this was hardly the worst he could have done, still Bruce took the hint and took pity on him. His hand slowly wrapped around the thick base of Logan's cock giving him a couple good strokes. Nuzzling into his hip as he used the leverage to keep Logan from bucking into his hand as he stroked him dry. Not breaking eye contact as Logan's eyes rolled back into his head briefly just from such a touch. The friction makes Logan's head spin just enough to not to complain.

“My poor darling.” Bruce cooed as he pressed a few kisses at the base. Bruce shifted on his knee to straddle Logan's boot so that he could please his own needs.grounding his hips down against worn leather as he nipped at that prominent vein down Logan’s hip, up the underside of his cock.

“Shut up” Logan spat out when Bruce”s tongue flicked the head of his cock before trailing back down the underside only for his hand to replace his mouth again. His hand retreated from Bruce’s hair as his claws fought to make an early appearance.

“Make me” echoed in Logan's ears as his eyes opened in surprise. He stared down at the smuggest person he’ed ever seen on their knees. Logan tried to memorize this exact moment in his very shitty memory. Bruce Wayne on his knees in an open alley, looking at him like a kid during christmas while he stroked his dick actively taunting him. No. Asking him to let go. If Logan believed in a god he'd probably be thanking him right about now.

As Logan's brian took its time to process his request Bruce took no time to wrap his lips around his throbbing cock not stopping into his nose brushed against that tufted of hair against the base. Everything about Logan was thick. His skin, his skull, his fingers but most importantly his dick as it took up most of his mouth. Bruce used his breathing skills to good use not to gag when Logan seemed to finally get the idea bucking into his throat suddenly. Logan’s hand curled back into Bruce’s hair pulling him somehow farther down his cock so he could fuck into the wet heat of his mouth.

“So good baby.” Logan muttered his praises through his teeth.

“Good fucking boy.”

Bruce’s hands dropped to finally free himself from his own pants. Moaning around Logan as he stroked himself to the same hard rhythm that was set in his throat. It didn’t take long for either of them to get close to the breaking point.

“You gonna take it baby? Huh? Be my good fucking boy and take everything i give you?” Bruce was too far lost as he moaned out his agreement. Trying to nod around Logan's brutal trust of his hips into his mouth. “Here it comes baby, here it comes.”

An inhuman noise escapes his lips as Logan’s hips halt suddenly making sure to pull Bruce all the way down around him as he releases down his throat. Bruce followed close behind, spilling out of his fist onto the ground and Logan's boot below. The two of them just stay there for a moment before Bruce finally frees himself with a cough. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he breathed in lungs full of cold air.

“Shit, you okay?” Logan tucked himself back into his pants before kneeling down to Bruce's level.

Bruce nodded between coughs waving it off. “I’m fine. Just forgot to breathe for a second.”

Logan shook his head gently pushing Bruce's now actually messy hair from his face. His eyes now soft and concerned as he gave Bruce a good once over just in case knowing Bruce isn’t one to complain about pain.

“Come here.” Logan muttered pulling Bruce gently into a soft kiss which was pleasantly returned without hesitation. The taste of himself on Bruce's lips didn’t go unmissed.

“You are the worst”

“You love me for it.” Bruce chuckled cupping his jaw, running his thumb across his cheek before pressing another quick kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, I do.” Logan got back to his feet giving Bruce a hand up as they both fixed themselves to be less disheveled. Logan takes another shameless look over Bruce hooking his fingers into one of his belt loops pulling him closer. His voice dropped an octave giving him a weak glare.

“Seriously though, were these fucking pants come from.”

“My first year of college. ” Bruce gave him a little pose looking down at his somehow still intact pants. “I didn’t make it through pre-med but I did party like I was. Honesty impressed they still fit.”

Logan hummed letting him go. “oh, they fit alright.”

Bruce gave him a slap to his arm which Logan overreacted to making Bruce crack a smile. Logan threw an arm over Bruce’s shoulder pulling him down to his height. “Wanna drink? I still have a tab open.”

“You just want me to cover the bill.” Bruce rolled his eyes leaving his grasp to pull open the metal door letting out the loud music spill out into the quiet night for the two of them.

“Promise to repay you when we get home.” Logan smirked, slapping Bruce on the ass as he headed back into the noisy club. Bruce, not too far behind, shakes his head amused as they find two empty seats at the bar.

“Yeah, yeah.”

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 05

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 3.7k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

“So, what are you going to do there?” You ask, your eyes on the road. Jungkook is texting on his phone, but when you speak, he locks it and turn his attention to you.

“Stay with my parents. Probably visit my nieces. It’s Halloween tomorrow, so I’ll catch up with some of our old friends,” Jungkook says, opening a bag of chips. “What about you?”

He stuffs a handful of chips into his mouth, chewing as he waits for your answer. You take a deep breath and shrug. You’re almost in Busan. Talking with Jungkook is easy –he always has something interesting to say. And let’s be real, he’s a chatterbox. He even offered you a karaoke session with some old songs.

“My brother will probably go out with his friends. And my dad… Well, you know him.”

“TV, beer, falling asleep on the couch?” Jungkook chuckles and you nod, smiling.

As you approach Busan, the sea comes into view. You don’t want this drive to end; you’re having too much fun. You didn’t even realize four and a half hours had passed.

“Let’s celebrate Halloween together.” Jungkook suggests, and you glance at him for a second, giving him a look.

“I don’t have a costume.” You reply, licking your lips as you tilt your head in his direction at a red light.

The neighborhood feels familiar now, and you’re just minutes away from Jungkook’s parents’ house.

“Then we’ll have the whole day tomorrow to find one,” he smirks, earning an eyeroll from you.

“I’m starting to think you’re finding excuses to spend time with me,” you joke, stopping the car in front of his parents’ house. “Here we are, sir. Don’t forget to rate us five stars on the app.”

Jungkook unbuckles his seatbelt, his eyes lingering on you. He doesn’t move for a moment, his brows furrowed.

“I am.” He says when your eyes meet, his fingers still holding the seatbelt. You freeze for a good ten seconds.

“You are?” You repeat, unsure if he’s referring to spending time with you or the Uber joke.

“Yeah, I want to spend time with you,” he nods. You let out a nervous chuckle. Jungkook has always been so straightforward. He always says you only live once, and he doesn’t want to miss anything because he’s too shy to ask. “So… will I see you tomorrow?”

“I –“ You clear your throat, a slight frown on your face. “I’ll think about it.”

A smirk stretches across his lips as he opens the door and steps out. Jungkook doesn’t say anything when he takes his travel bag out of your car, then leans against your window, bending slightly so your eyes meet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nabi.” He smiles, and you frown. “Thanks for the ride.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You shout, but he’s already waving at you and walking to his parents’ door. “Hey – Jungkook!”

“I don’t hear you, I’m too far.” He teases. You groan, pressing your forehead against your steering wheel. Yet, a soft smile spreads across your lips when you leave his neighborhood.

When your father opens the door to his apartment, you smile and drop your bag at your feet as he wraps his arms around you. Your father is the definition of a daddy bear—bulky and quite tall. His hair is starting to turn gray, but he’s still in good shape, thanks to his gym. He used to be a well-known boxer in Busan before he had you and your brother. When your mother left to live with another man abroad, he had to stop fighting to take care of you two. Now he runs his own gym, training younger fighters.

“Hi, Dad,” you whisper, closing your arms around his shoulders as he lifts you off the floor in a warm hug.

“My little girl. I missed you,” he coos, setting you back on your feet and cupping your face to admire it. “I hope your trip went well.”

He bends to grab your bag before stepping back to let you in. You left Busan eight years ago, and nothing has changed here. He even kept your bedroom just as you left it.

“Do you want a beer?” he asks, and you nod, heading to the kitchen to grab one for both of you.

“The drive went well. I wasn’t alone,” you reply, sitting at the round table in the corner of the kitchen. Your father joins you, sitting across from you and thanking you for the beer. “Jungkook was with me.”

Your dad nearly spits out his beer, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Jungkook? As Jeon Jungkook?” He repeats, and you nod. “I didn’t know he was back in Korea.”

Unlike Hyesun and Hwan, you know you can tell your father about Jungkook and how you’ve started hanging out again as friends. He never judged you—not when you didn’t understand your feelings for Jungkook the first time, and he had to explain that it was love, or when you cried in his arms after the breakup. Your dad always gives good advice and is the shoulder you lean on.

“He came back a few months ago.”

“And you two…?” He trails off,  waiting for you to finish his sentence.

“No. Just friends.”

Your dad laughs at your words. You frown at his reaction, crossing your legs and taking a sip of your beer.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sweetheart,” he tilts his head, giving you a knowing look. “Did he tell you he’s ‘just’ your friend?”

“He’s the one who suggested it,” you explain.

“And you believed him?”

“Dad.”

“What?” he feigns innocence. “I’m a man. I know men. That kid loved you for so long.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t just want to be friends,” you retort, and he nods.

“Alright. Sorry.” He smiles, squeezing your hand on the table. “But I bet you ten thousand wons that he’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Dad.” You whine and the old man laugh, taking another sip of his beer.

You stayed up late with your dad, catching up and watching TV. You’re not a fan of basketball, but you watched the match with him anyway. Your brother came back late, gave you a quick side hug, and went straight to bed. You followed an hour later, after a warm shower. You had forgotten how comfortable your bed here was and fell asleep almost immediately.

Mumbling against your pillow, you flip onto your back and grab your phone to scroll through it. The sun is already high, but that’s not what woke you up. No, it was the voices outside. Familiar voices. Taking a deep breath, you sit up and rub your eyes. After quickly washing your face, you walk to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” you groan at Jungkook, who’s sitting in the same spot you were last night, a mug of coffee in hand. Your father sits across from him with a wide grin on his face. “It’s too early.”

“It’s ten a.m.,” Jungkook laughs. You brush it off, grabbing a mug and pouring yourself some courage liquid. “My mom made kimchi for your dad.” he says, taking another sip of his coffee.

“And you ran here as soon as she gave you that jar,” you tease, raising an eyebrow sarcastically. He smirks, and your father shakes his head, clearly amused. He’s used to your playful bickering with Jungkook

“You know me so well.” Jungkook coos playfully, sipping his coffee. You sit down between the two men, placing your mug in front of you. “But I’m also here because we need to find costumes for tonight. We’re going out to celebrate Halloween, remember?”

“I never said yes,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee.

“But you didn’t say no, either.” he retorts, making you roll your eyes, though not seriously.

You know you’re playing hard to get because, in the end, you’ll spend Halloween with him. You’ve always liked spending time with him, even before you two started dating. That’s why you didn’t fight much. Once your mug is in the sink, you leave the two men alone to get ready. A shy smile spreads across your lips despite yourself as you put on a shirt. Is it normal to feel excited to spend the day with your ex?

“Wait,” your brother, Kangsoo, says as he meets you in the hallway. “Can I come? I’m going out with my friends too, and I need something to wear.”

“No,” You father says from the living room, making you raise a brow. “I’ll drive you.”

You roll your eyes when you walk into the living room. You know what he’s doing, and you give him a look when your eyes meet his. But your dad is clearly amused and just winks at you. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe he’s fifty-six.

“I don’t mind if he comes with us,” you reply to your father, who shakes his head. “And I’m sure Jungkook doesn’t mind either.”

“Nope, you can come, buddy,” Jungkook shrugs, and Kangsoo grins, but before he can head back to his room to get ready, your father puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll drive you,” he says, giving Kangsoo a look that leaves no room for argument. It’s the same look he gave you when you protested at Kangsoo’s age, and it’s enough to make your brother simply nod and sit back down.

“I know what you’re doing.” You whisper to your father when you walk past him.

You grab your handbag and put on your shoes while Jungkook says goodbye to your father and brother. Before leaving the building, you slam a ten thousand won bill on the table. Your dad smirks and takes it as you step outside the apartment.

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to wear?” Jungkook asks, opening the door of the old car he came in for you, and you sigh, shaking your head as you get in.

He walks to the other side and pulls out his phone. Raising an eyebrow, you lean over to look over his shoulder as he opens the Pinterest app and types in “female Halloween costume ideas.” You can’t help but chuckle. Typical Jungkook.

“And what are you going to wear?” You ask, watching him scroll through the app.

“Something I saw on TikTok. You’ll see.” He mumbles with a half-smile. “What about a cat woman costume? I’m ready to change my idea to match it – I’ll be Batman.”

“No,” you say immediately, making him laugh because he already knew. You hate the idea of wearing a full leather bodysuit.

“Too bad. ‘Could be hot.” He replies, and you slap his arm, earning a soft giggle from him.

“Why don’t you celebrate Halloween with your family?” you ask Jungkook as you follow him through the aisles. His eyes scan the costumes on display, the basket in his hand.

“Y/N.” He tilts his head toward you. “My parents are old, and they’re going to eat at a friend’s house. And my brother, well, he’s too focused on his family life now. He’s probably going to watch some old movies with his wife and go to sleep by eight p.m.”

“We’re not getting younger either,” you retort, almost bumping into him when he suddenly stops to grab a mask. “We’re not twenty anymore.”

Jungkook continues to look at the mask in his hand before turning fully to you.

“Don’t I know it.” He says, his eyes meeting yours, and you know he wants to say something, but he stays silent. Instead, he shows you the mask.

“Ghost face?” You arch a brow, his lips stretch in a smirk.

“It makes the girls crazy.” He jokes, earning an eye roll from you. “I read the comments on TikTok.”

“You want to impress the girls tonight?”

“Only one.” He leans closer to you, making his intention clear before a wide smile spread across his lips as he chews his bottom one. “Hey, do you do piercings too?”

You blink a few times at his sudden change of subjects while the two of you continue walking.

“I—uh, yeah,” you say, shaking your head and clearing your throat. “Why?”

“I’m thinking on getting a few.” Jungkook shrugs.

“Where?”

“Hm… the eyebrow. The lip,” he says, pointing to the corner of his mouth, his finger tapping the spot. “Maybe the tongue.”

“Oh wow, you want the whole punk starter pack,” you joke, though your mind is still focused on his earlier words. He drops a bomb and acts like nothing happened.

“I never do anything halfway,” He teases, and you smile.

You decided to play it safe with your costume: a simple black dress and a witch hat. Jungkook complained that you didn’t put in much effort, to which you responded with your middle finger. The last time you celebrated Halloween was three years ago with Hyesun and Hwan, and you did a matching costume with your friends: The powerpuff girls. Hyesun was Blossom, Hwan was Bubble and you were Buttercup.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you fix the black lipstick at the corner of your lips before stepping out of the bathroom. Jungkook brought your dad’s favorite beers, and it’s not surprising to find them both laughing together in the kitchen. Your father adores Jungkook—always has. When you were eighteen, he told Jungkook that if he wanted to marry you, he had his blessing. Jungkook bragged about it for an entire month.

“I’m ready,” you announce, entering the room where the two men are chatting. Jungkook is wearing a black shirt and blue jeans.

“I didn’t bring it,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “It’ll just bother me once we’re at the club.”

You roll your eyes and grab a beer from the fridge. As you stand next to him, Jungkook’s eyes linger on you. He looks completely at home here. Even after seven years. The tattooed man is sitting with his legs spread, one hand on his beer and the other on his thigh. You glance at him discreetly. He’s no longer the shy teenager with the chestnut haircut, that’s for sure.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” your father asks, making Jungkook sit up a little straighter

“We’re hitting a few bars and nightclubs. Might end up on the beach. I reserved a room,” Jungkook explains. You frown. He hadn’t mentioned that last part, and as if reading your mind, he smirks. “I don’t want to stumble into my parents’ house drunk. I’m sleeping on the couch. They turned my old room into an office.”

“Do you want me to keep my phone close?” your father asks, raising an eyebrow curiously. “In case you need a ride?”

“No, don’t worry, Dad. I’ll call a taxi.”

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe,” Jungkook adds, making you roll your eyes. He says that like you need a bodyguard. “And if we’re too drunk, there’s a sofa in my hotel room. I’ll sleep there and let her have the bed.”

“I’m an adult, thank you. How do you think I manage in Seoul?” you shake your head, grabbing your phone to put it in your small purse. This is probably why you’ve been single for so long—you hate when men make decisions for you.

Jungkook finishes his beer in a few sips before tossing the bottle in the trash. He joins you, stepping aside to let you walk first.

“See you tomorrow, Dad,” you wave at him, and Jungkook turns to your father too.

“Have a nice evening, ahjussi,” Jungkook says politely, bowing before the two of you leave the apartment.

Jungkook orders the taxi for the two of you, his phone in his right hand while his left fiddles with the fake weapon he bought earlier. You shake your head, amused by the mask perched on top of his head, not fully covering his face so he can see his phone screen.

“Are you really going to keep that on all night?” you ask when he opens the car door for you once the cab arrives.

“Maybe not. Once everyone’s too drunk to care, I’ll take it off. Why?” he smirks, getting into the taxi too.

You shrug and take out your phone to scroll through social media. Hyesun, Namjoon, and Hwan are celebrating Halloween together, as they do every year. Their costumes match: angel and demon. You smile at Hwan’s choice of outfit. Of course, she’d pick something sexy and short.

“Oh, it’s the girl that DM’d Yoongi,” Jungkook says, peeking over your shoulder.

“Yeah, she asked Hyesun for his number. Did he reply to her?”

“Hm. He knows she’s your friend, so he wants to be polite,” he replies, and you hum, not pushing for more details.

Once at the club, Jungkook buys you the first drink. Even though you insist on paying for the next round, he refuses. It doesn’t take long for a group of girls to try pulling Jungkook into their circle. He hasn’t drunk enough to feel comfortable, but he still accepts to be polite. You now understand the appeal of the Ghostface mask. You also know that even without the mask, they’d still be trying to hit on him.

Smiling from your chair, you sip your drink, watching as he politely avoids every attempt to grind against him. Jungkook is—or at least was—a shy guy when sober. But as the night goes on, he becomes more relaxed, even pulling you onto the dance floor. You refuse at first, but you always end up saying yes to him.

He makes silly dance moves to make you laugh, both of you tipsy. When “Hungry Eyes” by Eric Carmen starts playing, you exchange an amused look and step back, pointing at him as Jungkook approaches you. Dirty Dancing is his mother’s favorite movie, and this song became yours when you heard it playing in a convenience store at seventeen. He forced you to dance with him in the aisle, and though you hated him for it at the time, deep down, you loved every second of it.

“Don’t put a spell on me,” he whispers in your ear as he pulls you close, and you scrunch your nose playfully.

“Cringe,” you tease.

You can’t see his big bunny smile, but you can imagine it under his mask. He probably feels clever for making a joke about the costume. Jungkook makes you spin before catching you back in his arms. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the warmth of the room or the lack of space but it feels right to have him here. It feels like nothing has changed.

But everything has changed.

He’s not the guy you loved seven years ago. He’s your ex, and now you’re just friends. The realization hits you, and you slowly pull away, clearing your throat.

“I’m going to get us drinks,” you say in his ear before weaving your way through the crowd.

You can’t let yourself believe that everything is okay, or that he’s going to forget the seven years apart. And yet, he’s stirring up old feelings you thought you had buried. You grab two beers at the bar, and when you turn to scan the room, he’s already approaching you, his mask in his hand as he wipes his forehead.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, leaning closer, his hand resting on the small of your back. You nod, stepping back to create some distance between you. Maybe it’s self-preservation, but you feel the need to push him toward someone else. You can’t afford to fall for a friend.

“Yeah.” You shake your head, handing him the beer you just bought. “You should… go talk to that girl over there.” You point to a young woman with long hair who’s been glancing in your direction. You spotted her an hour ago. Jungkook follows your gaze.

“What?” he frowns, his fingers tightening on his mask, but you just offer him a smile and start walking toward the exit. You’re drunk. You can feel the buzz in your head, and you’re clumsier than usual. Taking a deep breath of fresh air once outside the nightclub, you don’t hear Jungkook following you.

“What was that?” he asks, and you almost jump.

“What do you mean?”

“We were having fun, and you just… pushed me toward someone else,” Jungkook retorts, and you scoff like he’s making a big deal out of nothing. You look away, beer in hand, but he gently grabs your arm, turning you back to face him.

“You said you wanted to impress girls with that mask,” you say, meeting his eyes. “I just saw that girl staring at you and—”

“And what? I don’t give a fuck about that girl,” he shrugs, his fingers trailing down your arm to take your hand. “I said I want to impress one girl, Nabi.”

“It’s one girl,” you try to joke, but his eyes are serious.

“Smartass,” he chuckles softly, tossing his mask onto the empty bench beside you to free his other hand. Jungkook tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers tracing your jaw before gently lifting your chin to make you look at him again. “One girl,” he whispers.

“I thought you wanted to be friends.”

“And you believed me?” His lips curl into a half-smile. Your eyes meet his, and you know the silent question he’s asking. Seven years have passed, but you still know him like the back of your hand. You let out a soft chuckle as he leans closer, cupping your cheek.

Nothing has changed.

You close your eyes slowly as his lips meet yours, and you melt against him. Nothing compares to his kiss, and God knows you’ve had your fair share. But no one makes you feel the way Jeon Jungkook does or makes your heart race with a single touch. It’s just a kiss, two mouths pressed together, and yet it’s the greatest kiss you’ve ever had.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispers against your lips before stealing another kiss.

Seven years have passed, and nothing has changed. You love that man just as much as you did eleven years ago.

author's note:

aaaargh, i'm nervous!! i was waiting for this chapter since i started writing it! it's really my favorite.... for now. now that we are halfway, it's maybe time to tell you that from chapter 06 to 10 (or more i don't know how many chapters yet, but not too much it's a short story after all), it's going to be from JK's POV. we will finally see what my boi think!!

i know that most of the drabbles are from his POV but it's in the past. and the main story is in the present, he's not 17 anymore!!

ANYWAYS, i hope you enjoyed that chapter. I'm currently writing the chapter 06 (it's going to be on ko-fi in like... 1-2 days) and the SPECIAL NEW YEAR EVE one shot with (no surprise) Jungkook again: this one is going to be on tumblr and wattpad on january 1st.

also, the special christmas edition of DOU is still HERE.

3.2K of words, smut and a little bit of jealousy. (they're 19, it's one year before she left him and also their last christmas together)

So i'll see you there, and i can't wait to read your reactions on 05!!

byyyye

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

KO-FI. (every chapters/drabbles are posted as soon as i'm done writing them.)

[kca1516]

Ready for You - by Kca1516

Summary:

Present for my co-writer/bestie/cousin - here’s some Christmas themed sexy Bucky Barnes as requested :)

~~~~~~~~

You and Bucky are together, you want to have rougher sex and so does he - but he’s nervous about hurting you. And he’s a little bit of an asshole about it sooooo you show him that he either has to step up to play or lose what’s his.

Also on ao3

Part 1

Final Part:

You all arrived at the party to a swarm of photographers. 

Tony had warned you there would be mild press before and after the event, it was good for business to let people know The Avengers were back and better than ever before. 

Still, Bucky had steered you through the interviewers without much comment on anything. He didn’t like the press or the chaos of it all, and you were happy to bypass it. Still, it took you too long to make it inside and when you did the rooms were filled with people you didn't know. 

There were a good amount of Shield agents and other scientists you worked with, but they made up a smaller portion of the population then you would have hoped. 

You didn’t really like parties, preferring to stick to the sidelines. 

Bucky knew it, too. 

“I see some empty seats in the left hand corner, it’s shadowed and away from the dance floor. We wouldn’t be bothered and if you want you can get more drunk than you already are.”

That annoyed you.

As if the only reason you were drunk didn’t have to do entirely with him. You caught Nat’s eye from across the room, she nodded at you to get on with it already. She had a plan, and up until now you weren’t sure you were going to go through with it. 

Finally, you gave Bucly your most unimpressed glare. 

“Actually, I think I’d like to mingle, maybe dance a bit, and if I have another drink that’s none of your damn business.”

Bucky pursed his lips unhappily, and didn’t have the foresight to go after you before you were out of reach. You ignored the hole burning through the back of your head as you made your way to the coat room attendant. 

You looked around once, giving yourself a pep talk before you revealed yourself to this night. Other women were wearing outfits as fancy as yours, but none were as short or as revealing. 

Usually this would cause you to run off to hide in comfort, not tonight. 

“Excuse me, Miss,” the attendant said, as you had yet to remove your overcoat. 

You gave him a smile dazzling enough to make him ease - this was your mission tonight and you weren’t leaving until it was complete. You slipped out of your coat, a rush of warm air encircling you as you handed it to him. 

“Thank you, sir,” you said far too kindly. 

He could only look at you, stunned and awkwardly holding your coat

“My pleasure,” he said offhandedly, and when you turned from him he shouted after you, “enjoy your evening Miss.”

Instinctively, you looked at Bucky. 

He hadn’t allowed you from his sight the whole time, not that you had made the mistake of thinking he had. 

His teeth were all but bared, his hands flexed at his side to keep himself from hitting anything. 

You smirked, he was livid.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours into the party, James was not the only one who had noticed your appearance. 

You were dressed in a sparkling red mini dress. Your shoulders were bare as the dress had no straps and barely skimmed the top of your thighs. It cinched your waist and elongated your legs. Your hair was in loose ringlets around your shoulders, and your makeup was smokey and alluring. 

Nat had done a perfect job capturing the character you were embodying tonight. A seductress who no one could have until she said so. 

As if you had announced to the available male population that you were on the menu tonight, a flock of suitors began to follow you wherever you went. At first you had been awkward, not sure how to respond to so much attention, but you relaxed as you were plied with more champagne then you could drink. 

Similarly, at first you had kept an eye out for Bucky. 

When he realized what you were doing, he’d tried to match your strategy, never one to be outdone. You had seen him smiling with women who were clearly trying to get with him, offering to get them drinks, and laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world. 

It only enraged you, and you refused to have this turned back around on you. 

You ignored him then and focused on flirting with your flock. It began to come naturally as time went by, you were able to gather in an even larger crowd as you chatted and laughed. There were men on either side of the stool you were sitting in, and you often hit their shoulders or wrapped your arm in theirs as another suitor tried to make you laugh with an anecdote. 

You were worried that the men would lose interest once you didn’t immediately jump to be with any of them, but in reality you only had to give each man a moment of your attention for them to come crawling back begging for more. 

The next time you saw Bucky he was ignoring the woman in front of him as he glared at you, his hand tightening around his tumbler of whiskey. You watched as it shattered and he apologized as he made his way to the bar. You laughed at his expense as he got another drink, and were pleased when he excused himself from conversation to seclude himself. 

As if to say, fine, you’ve proved your point now stop playing these games. 

But truthfully, you didn’t want to. You liked when it was you holding his leash for once, and you wanted him to feel what that was like for a little longer. You smiled at him and then went back to your conversation. 

Another hour went by as you entertained and flirted with the group around you. They were getting bolder as you had yet to single out a favorite. 

Bucky had gone from exasperated with your performance, to furious. His lips had turned down entirely and he was staring at you like you were his next target, it lit a thrill inside of you and made you nervous in equal measure. This had been what you wanted but now that it was said and done with you ached to postpone the inevitable. He was a darkened angel, icey gaze encircling you. 

You were his to devour and no one else’s.

That’s what you had wanted to remind him of, but holding that power began to go to your head. 

You got too cocky. 

The live band began to start up with a new song, a ballad. 

There had been one man in particular who had been at the front of the group the whole night. 

He had kind eyes and finally, he stepped forward. 

“I hate to break up the merriment,” the man said, the crowd quieted, “but would you honor me with a dance, Y/N?”

You weren’t really a dancer, certainly not in public like this. But tonight you were pretending to be someone you weren’t - and at seeing the man approach you with a real offer, Bucky had perked up from his perch at the bar. 

You should stop it here. You had gotten what you wanted, you had proved your point. 

You weren’t anyones to control, and he didn’t get to make decisions about you the way he had assumed to. But there was something that was still missing, Bucky was still on the other side of the room. 

Why hadn’t he stopped it? He hated seeing you like this, as if you could ever be anybody else’s. Insecurity had set in, what if-what if he didn’t really care? What if you weren’t as important to him as he was to you?

You were sure it was the drinks getting to your head, but you had stopped drinking about an hour ago. Knowing you needed to be sober for the argument you were going to have with Bucky after this. 

“Y/N?” the man said again, not sure what you were distracted by. 

With effort you tore your gaze away from Bucky, who seemed to say don’t you dare, and looked at the brown haired man in front of you. He was tall and had a good smile, and you felt absolutely nothing for him. 

“Of course,” you said abruptly, “this is one of my favorite songs-” it wasn’t “-I’d love to dance-” you wouldn’t. 

But as quickly as you agreed to the proposition, you were being led to the main floor. You almost tripped over your own feet on the way, and when the stranger pulled you in with one hand on your waist you wanted to puke. 

This was too far, this was too much. You were mad at Bucky, that was true, but to feel another man’s hands on you was vile. He was all around you, all over you, touch too familiar with skin he had never felt before and never should. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” the man said, he continued to speak after that but you weren’t paying attention. 

His hands rested where Bucky’s hands should be, his touch smooth where Bucky’s fingers were calloused, his arms lean where Bucky was broad and strong. You missed your man’s cologne, the rumble of his voice, his laugh. You missed him, you didn’t want to be with anyone else and, and-

“We’re leaving,” a familiar, unmoving voice spoke up from next to you. 

You hadn’t heard him approach over the blare of trumpets but then he was there, and you couldn't be more thankful for it. 

“Excuse me?” the man dancing with you said, sounding like he was ready to fight for you. 

What an idiot. 

“You’re excused. Y/N, we’re leaving, let’s go,” Bucky said, not bothering to answer the man’s question. 

This was between you and him and no one else. 

You stopped moving, letting your touch fade from the strangers as you tried to turn to Bucky - but suddenly that stranger was closer to you then he had been previously, his hold keeping you in place. 

“Just because he tells you to go doesn’t mean you have to.”

You tried to pull away from him instinctually, but he didn’t let you. 

This Bucky couldn’t ignore. 

He stepped between you so the man was forced to retreat. You breathed harshly as if it was your first time taking fresh air since you had entered the building. You leaned on Bucky, knowing he would support you.  

“She told you to leave,” Bucky growled, flexing his hands, “I suggest you listen to her before I make you.”

Your hand slid into Bucky’s metal one and he interlaced your fingers.

The stranger’s eyes went wide with understanding as he took a step back from Bucky. 

“So you were just pimping her out this whole time-” the man started to say, knowing he couldn’t compete with Bucky physically but deciding to get another jab at you while he still could. 

Bucky lunged for him, grabbing the front of his lapels. Luckily, as Nat had said, everyone around you was too drunk to notice. 

“Fuck did you just say,” Bucky growled at him. 

The stranger’s face whitened with fear. 

You lurched forward as well, laying your hands on Bucky’s back. 

“Bucky,” you said, “let’s go, come on let’s just get out of here. He’s not worth it.”

At first your soldier didn’t budge, still deciding whether or not to punch the man into unconsciousness. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had gotten protective of you like this, but this might have been the first time you weren’t sure if you could pull him back from the edge. 

“James,” you whispered, “please, love. Let’s go home.”

You put your forehead against his back, begging him, and it was only with this resignation that Bucky pulled away, letting go of the man. 

“Get out of here,” he warned, “before I change my mind.”

The man was gone by the time Bucky turned back around. The Winter Soldier remained exactly as he should be, clean of blood, free of scars, with all five fingers. 

In the crook of his arm was your coat. 

“James…” you tried to say, but trailed off - not having the words. 

Bucky took the garment off his arm and wrapped it around you, you plaintively put your arms through the sleeves. 

“We’re leaving,” was all he said. 

He put an arm around your waist before you had secured the coat into place and was leading you out of the party as if leading you to a judge’s sentencing. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The entire ride had been spent in silence, the tension rising between you the entire time until you were just as angry with him as you had been the night before. 

This was the entire problem, he wouldn’t just talk to you. You had to fight him at every turn to get him to open up to you, to the things he wanted. He shut you out at every opportunity, but expected you to do the emotional lifting in the meantime. 

You knew he was working through things, but this was different than that. This was stubbornness and bullheadedness and you were sick of it.  

Still, neither of you found the will to say anything, simmering in the silence knowing it would never last. 

You got back to Avengers Tower quicker than you had left it, thanks to Bucky’s driving. Before you had finished unbuckling your seatbelt, he was opening your door. You slipped a hand into his and let him guide you inside, then up the elevator, and finally into the home’s entryway. 

The door had barely closed, Bucky’s hand still on the handle, when he finally broke through the mounting tension. 

“Want to explain to me why you were being a spiteful brat all fucking night?” a dark, Brooklyn accent ground out at you. 

You had your back towards him hanging up your coat that revealed the reason for his anger tonight. And also for his arousal, you had seen him try to hide it from you - but it was impossible to ignore the straining in his pants. You hoped it hurt.

Neither of you had been able to get off in weeks now, and right now it was more than just noticeable.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answered as you knew you should, as if you were innocent.

You toed off your heels and bent down to pick them up, hinging at the waist so Bucky definitely got a look at the black lacy thong that cupped your sex. Unbeknownst to you, he loosened his tie, throwing off his suit jacket so he could breathe. 

“No idea,” Bucky snarled, “I’m sure the way you were waving your cunt at every willing fella was just a fucking accident.”

His accent always got more prominent when he was angry, and you couldn’t deny the pit it opened up inside of you even as anger surged through. 

You turned to him fiercely, unwilling to admit that it meant he had gained some ground. 

He was closer than you had remembered him being. The sleeves of his button down were rolled up to his elbows - revealing muscle and prominent veins that ran through to his fingers. 

“Say that to my fucking face, I dare you,” you snarled, chest heaving with indignation. 

But Bucky was suddenly in front of you - having crossed the room in two steps. You put your hands on his chest automatically as if to stop him, but you couldn’t stop him as you were pushed against the wall behind you. His hand gripping your chin hard enough to hurt. 

He didn’t let you look away from him as he spoke next. 

“I said,” he rumbled, “that you’ve been a damn whore all night, sweetheart, and now I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to.”

You swelled with arousal as relief flowed through you. 

“Finally,” you returned. 

And then Bucky Barnes was all over you, everywhere at once - and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Your mouths crashed together, hot and messy as he licked long, possessive strips into your mouth and you nipped at his lips. At first your hands found refuge in his hair, you carded your fingers through the strands before pulling hard. 

His hands had been memorizing the shape of your body, pulling at the fabric that didn’t really cover anything. He had been molding the flesh of your hips in one hand while the other went to pinch harshly at your nipples. He had never been so forward with his actions but it was making you gasp in distinct pleasure. 

He groaned from your ministrations in his hair, and grabbed your hands easily, pinning them above your head. 

“After all you pulled tonight, and you think I’m going to let you run this, sweetheart?” he murmured against your lips. 

It was with a laugh, like you had severely underestimated him. He was about to prove to you that you had done just that. 

He bruised your lips one last time before trailing his mouth down your neck. He had never been one to leave dark hickeys, not only for professionalism in your day-to-day work, but also because he had never wanted to hurt you. Now he latched onto a spot behind your ear, and sucked hard as he grinded down on your body. 

A moan was pulled from your throat at the pleasure-pain. You opened your legs for him to fit between, and let your skirt ride up as his hips slotted perfectly against yours. You could feel his bulge against your hot cunt, and you wanted more. 

“Please,” you moaned, barely getting the word out as pleasure lit your nerve endings, “please fuck me, I need it James-”

He bit at your neck, and you screamed at the same time he thrust against you. You hoped the mark would last for days. 

“Sir,” he growled against your neck as you turned boneless against him, “you’ll call me sir, tonight.”

You wanted to claw your fingers down his back, but no matter how you bucked against him for more friction he didn’t release you. 

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered, “please, sir, please fuck me - hard.”

“As if a whore like you would want it any other way,” he breathed into your ear, smirking. 

He turned you around then, so your face was pressed against the wall. He switched his hold on your arms so he held them in only one hand. The other trailed down your back until it caught on the dress's zipper. Without fitness, he pulled the fastening down, releasing you from the hug of its shape so it fell in a pile on the floor. 

You were left only in the black panty hose Nat had allowed you, your jewelry, and your panties. 

When he turned you around again, he immediately kneaded the swell of your breast as his mouth latched onto your nipple. He sucked, and nipped and teased the flesh to his heart's desire. He had always had an inclination for your tits, loving the way they swelled and felt pushed against his own skin. 

He played with you until a wet spot stained your underwear. Your head spun with arousal, it had been so long and you needed him so badly. 

You were boneless - so caught up in the pleasure surging through your body that you didn’t expect for him to throw you over his shoulder. 

“Woah,” you said as the world turned on its axis, but when it provided you with the perfect view of his ass you didn’t object further. 

The trip didn’t last very long as the super soldier walked only as far as the couch before he put you down. Once again you tipped in the air as he threw you over the sofa’s arm. He had your arms secured at your back, face in the cushions so your makeup smudged and your ass rose in the air. 

“Bucky,” you moaned at the treatment, and when a hand came down on your ass you yelped. 

“Sir,” the word was pushed from you with his reminder, “sir, please.”

Bucky was behind you, towering over you as he rubbed at your back gently with his thumb. 

“You’re beautiful like this,” Bucky murmured, “exactly where you belong, under me and no one else. Only I can fuck you this good, sweetheart. You want me to take you, I fucking will.”

Suddenly his hand was gone from your wrists, though you didn’t dare to move them. 

“Good girl,” Bucky praised, or ridiculed. 

You weren’t sure which, and it didn’t matter for long as it still made you blush and push your sex that much higher into the air. He grabbed at your underwear and pushed it down so it fell at your ankles. 

“There’s the slutty pussy I remember,” he said. 

His hands grabbed at your ass, exposing your sloppy hole to him. So he could see exactly what he was doing to you. 

“Fuck, YN,” he swore, “you’re mine, all mine.”

And then he fisted his hands into the delicate fabric of your tights and pulled. The fabric ripped with ease, making goosebumps pimple on your thighs. 

Suddenly, Bucky was on his knees behind you, his warm breath fanning over your dripping sex. 

Your breath hitched, and in the next second the super soldier surged forward open mouth as he licked a heady strip up your cunt. You weren’t able to hold in a scream as he began eating you out with vigor. Of course, you learned Bucky was good with his tongue a long time ago, he loved giving you head and he was good at it. 

But this wasn’t about your pleasure, no matter that it was a side effect. Bucky didn’t care if you got off on this, he had his face shoved into your cunt, your juices dripping down his face, to remind you that you were entirely owned and nothing else. 

He began to tongue incessantly at your clit, stimulating you so you were grinding back into his face, trying to keep him there long enough for you to finally come. But just as the pleasure was about to mount into something explosive, Bucky pulled away. 

“No,” you mourned as he spit on your cunt before standing up leaving you desperate and unsatisfied. 

“Please, sir,” you begged, “I need you so badly.”

Tears pricked in your eyes as a heady fog made your body limp, prepared for anything he would give you. Cherishing it as if it was a drop of water and it was your plagued by thirst. 

“So pathetic, sweetheart,” he said, “ you would have let anyone use this cunt tonight, anyone who would have offered you some release.”

“No,” you shook your head incessantly, “no, sir, I swear I wouldn’t have let anyone touch me. I belong to you, only you touch me.”

His fingers tested the state of your pussy, sliding in ever so gently to check for give. 

“Yeah, is that what you tell all the men you string along?”

You tried to catch the tips of his fingers against your hole, enticing him to slip in. He pulled back and smacked your pussy, you moaned. 

“No, sir,” you babbled, “no, only you get me. They can look all they want but they can’t touch what’s yours. I’m yours, sir.”

You heard the sound of the super soldier undoing his belt buckle. The button popped open and then the zipper pulled down. You were drooling for it, not knowing if you wanted it more inside of you or down your throat. 

“I’ll fuck your throat another time, sweetheart,” Bucky promised. 

You hadn’t realized you had said your desires out loud, but the lull of his voice evened you and anything he said relaxed you that much further. 

“But this isn’t about what you want, darling. All you need is to lay there, and keep looking sexy as I release some of this tension.”

You knew what he was about to do, and you tensed knowing it would be a lot. Bucky was big, and thick, and you loved it but you had never taken him without prep. 

In the same instance, you hoped he tore you open and made you bleed. You wanted him to own you, just like he promised. 

“No one else gets you like this, baby,” he said, “this is only for me - and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take this from me. Do you understand?”

In the same instance, Bucky stopped holding back. In one harsh thrust, the super soldier lined himself up and entered you. 

You screamed as pleasure and pain ripped up your spine. For a moment the world whited out around you as Bucky didn’t allow you a chance to get used to him. You didn’t want him to, and then he started thrusting into you and all coherent thoughts fled your mind. 

You were thankful the couch supported your weight as you went boneless as his heavy cock slapped into you over and over again. You were so wet, and the sound of it was so obscene - and quicker then Bucky expected you started begging for more. 

“Please,” you begged, “please fuck me, fuck me hard like only you can give me, James, please-”

At the use of his name, Bucky picked up his pace - hitting the spot within you that made you see stars with each thrust. His hand threaded into your hair and pulled, your moan echoed along the walls as he forced your head up. 

Anyone could walk in on you at any moment, and neither of you cared in the slightest. 

“That’s better,” Bucky rumbled into your ear, his own voice tense now as pleasure began to overwhelm him, “I wanted to hear you. I wanted to hear you as I split your pussy open on me. You're gorgeous, YN, and you’re all mine.”

Drool began dripping down your chin as Bucky went so deep your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. 

“You told me to take what I want,” Bucky babbled as he lost his mind within you, “so that’s what I’m fucking doing. I’m taking what belongs to me, and you can go back to those-”

He thrust deep and hard, fucking into your cervix. 

You screamed as the beginnings of an orgasm began to rush over you. 

“-bastards at Stark’s party and show them how I’ve ruined you. How I got you addicted to my cock and there’s nothing more a slut like you needs.”

Pleasure washed over you in waves. He hadn’t even touched your clit and still it was overwhelming. 

“Fuck,” he swore as you squeezed around him, unable to make any more noise then incoherent whimpers, “good girl, such a good girl for me. Coming like that.”

His hips stuttered and you could tell he was getting close. Making you come always did push him to the edge. The hand that wasn’t gripping your head circled around your waist until his fingers made their way to your clit, and he started rubbing. 

“No one else,” you babbled, “I’m yours, sir, I’m yours-”

His thrusts became wild as his hips slammed into you over and over again. 

“For weeks,” he breathed, “for weeks you’ve been begging me like a bitch in heat to rip you open and put you back together. And after that performance tonight-”

He grunted as his hips stuttered into you, and you knew he was close. So were you, his fingers never stopped rubbing at your clit. 

“-I couldn’t deny either of us, sweetheart. Not a pretty brat like you.”

‘Bucky,” you moaned, and he didn’t chastise you for moaning his name. 

He only ever wanted to hear it falling from your lips like honey. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, “be good for Daddy and come on my cock.”

It was the last push you needed as the piston of his hips faltered before finally thrusting into you deep and releasing. The feeling of him so buried inside of you, painting your insides in his come, and claiming you like you both needed pushed you over the edge the second time. 

This time it was much stronger as you pulsed around him and brayed as you released. Behind you Bucky groaned and grunted, the sounds he made were bone deep. 

The man bent over you so he covered you with his back, protecting your body from the air pressing in around you. 

You relaxed under the familiar weight, pulsing uncontrollably around him. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, kissing at the side of your neck as one hand came to hold on your stomach, to feel how his cock stretched you out and filled you, “that’s my good girl.”

You sighed and surrendered to riding out your orgasms entangled in one another. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Once you and Bucky were spent, the super soldier gently pulled out of you, knowing that you would be sore in the aftermath. You were afraid that the man would pull away from you, as he had every other time the sex between had gotten rougher. 

Your worry was tangible as you expected him to flee, and in your vulnerable state you just couldn't imagine that happening. Not when he had given you everything that you wanted. 

“Shhh, good girl,” Bukcy murmured, hugging you close to him, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let me take care of you.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you nodded. 

“Just don’t go,” you begged him, and you saw him wince. 

He knew why this was a fear of yours. 

Instead he kissed you lightly as he gathered you in his hold and began carrying you to your bedroom. 

“Never, Y/N. I’ll never leave you, I swear to you.”

It was earnest and genuine, and it was the only reason you eased into his care. 

Bucky brought you first to your private bathroom. He set you on the toilet before filling the tub, adding bubbles so the room smelled like lilac. Together you bathed, he rubbed you down, even washed your hair. His touch gentle and soothing, you curled up on his chest and swore you fell asleep while he held you. 

You didn’t know how long you stayed in the nice sauna with him, the two of you reacquainting yourselves with one another, touching one another and kissing gently. But eventually the bath water grew cold and you became clammy. 

He helped you from the water and as you stood you came back to yourself. Together you dried eachother off, enjoying the communication that passed between you without a word needing to be said. 

The two of you put on bathrobes as you heard the rest of the Avengers stumble into the tower now three hours after the two of you had. The clock read one thirty in the morning. 

You ignored them, your door staying firmly locked as you made your way to bed, curling up under the covers. Bucky spooned you, the reassurance of his metal arm coming to wrap around your waist and pull you tightly to him. 

He once told you that one of the reasons you loved holding you was because in his arms you were safe, in his arms the world only existed for the two of you. You could have fallen asleep, you wanted to, but in the absence of the warm water a second wave of energy hit you. You were wide awake, and stewing in your own thoughts. 

“I’m sorry for how I acted tonight,” you said, “I wanted to prove to you that I wasn’t so breakable, that I knew what I was asking for. But I never meant to push you so far.”

To your relief, Bucky’s chest rumbled with laughter. 

“It’s alright, doll,” he promised, “I know why you did it - I was being too stubborn. I was standing in both of our ways, what you did made me take my head out of my ass and figure out what was more important to me.”

You flipped in his arms so you were facing him. He was wide awake as well, known for having trouble sleeping. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

He pushed your hair from your face, and you leaned into the cool of the metal. 

“I had to decide what was more important to keep - my fear or you.”

You wanted to interrupt him. Insist there was never a world where he would lose you, and that there was no point to think about it. But you knew sometimes Bucky had to chew on his thoughts before putting words to them, you kept silent, giving him room to speak. 

“Back before the war-”

World War II.

“-I had my fair share of women.”

You knew this, but it was always cute to see how shy he got talking about his past relationships. There was no jealousy when you knew you were the only one who truly mattered to him.  

“Of course there were the sweet ones who wanted me to be gentle and doting - and of course I like that as well, but…but I had an active sex life with most of the women I was with.” 

Like what the two of you had done tonight.

“I liked dominating them, overwhelming them with pleasure, taking what was mine and making sure they were safe in the aftermath.”

You liked hearing good stories from his past. It was a rare sighting most days. 

“But after the programming, things were different. I spent so much of my life drowning in violence. When we got together, I ached to have you the way I did tonight. I wanted to fuck you stupid and satisfy every one of your needs, but I was worried.”

His arms held you close as you laid your head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat, so grateful that you had him the way that you did. 

“Worried that it would be different now, that  it would trigger me to act like the soldier again. I couldn't hurt you, it wasn’t a possibility I would accept. But I did hurt you, I dismissed your wants and feelings and that was just as bad.

“Tonight I realized the only thing keeping me from having you the way we both wanted was me. I was afraid of something that wasn’t real, and I realized to hold myself back from that joy was to play right into Hydra’s hands. I’m done letting them control my life. Tonight, you showed me how to make love to you the way we both needed, and you proved to me what you've always known.”

“That you would never hurt me,” you said, knowingly. 

He nodded, and kissed your forehead. 

“Thank you Y/N,” he said, “you’re guiding light, and I love you with everything in me.”

You pushed up and kissed him, properly. He rolled you over so you were straddling him. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered to Bucky, nudging your noses together. 

It wasn’t the first time you had said the words to each other, but every time sent a rush of happiness down your spine. You felt like you were glowing with it. 

“And next time you need me to fuck you stupid,” a Brooklyn accent seduced you, “it would be my truest pleasure.”

You flicked your finger at his nose and blushed, he laughed at your sudden modesty. He took your hand and kissed it. 

You melted under his touch. 

“Merry Christmas, James,” you said, laying your head down on him. 

His hand came up to cradle your head, and he leaned down to kiss the top of it. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he replied. 

Thanks for reading!!!

[kitts-mechanix]

Thank you for taking the time to write that! I'm not familiar with any of the continuities outside of G1 and TFOne but I'll try to follow along.

So for TFP, I do know that Starscream went rogue because he hated the Autobots but also Megatron. And the fact that the first thing Megatron did after coming back from the dead was beat up Starscream....I say this about every continuity but it's obvious that Starscream is his favourite punching bag. I can see why Megs gets frustrated with him, but it does NOT excuse him abusing Starscream. Although, to be totally fair here, it's not just Starscream. Megatron abuses the hell out of everyone (at least from what I've seen in G1). I mean, he's yelled at Soundwave for being a fool because his plan got foiled, and Soundwave has NEVER talked back to Megatron and is his most loyal comrade who does things without question or comment.

I've always wondered if Starscream would have a hard time actually trying to be a leader/function by himself considering Megatron basically controls everything, hence why he gets upset over Megatron's demise later on. It's complicated and I'd need to actually sit and watch the series to get a better idea but abusive relationships 100% screw you up like that. And I think the reason Starscream resorts to violence is because it makes him feel powerful. Because he always feels powerless under Megatron and he hates that feeling.

"And if people can be happy for redemption arc Meg, there's no Primus damned reason why anyone should be against a Starscream redemption."

THIS! And honestly, I think Starscream actually has a much better chance at being redeemed than Megatron, because regardless of what anyone else might say, I still say Megatron was much more evil than Starscream. And I'm dying on that hill!

I know Megatron got a redemption arc in IDW when he became an Autobot, and while I'd need to find and read the comic for context, it just felt....weird? like they were trying to appease the Meg fans who wanted a redemption arc for him? Granted, I know that all boiled down to Megatron hating what he had become, but still....

I heard Armada Starscream was probably the most complex and fleshed out version of the character in any continuity. I haven't watched Armada, but I heard that he used to be Megatron's most loyal warrior, then got betrayed by him and left for dead, and only turned on Megatron because he caught him admitting it.

"There's a lot of star getting beat up for shit that isn't his fault but told it is, and people constantly manipulating and gaslighting him and he questions his whole ass life but then even after leaving after a particularly wack incident....he expresses how he came to realize that nothing he ever did was ever enough."

Oh my gosh....THIS is what I'm talking about. Armada Starscream was dished out narcissistic abuse because Megs saw him as a scapegoat. No wonder the poor baby has a fractured psyche. And while I totally acknowledge that Starscream had it much, MUCH worse than me, as someone who's been gaslit and blamed for everything under the sun, I just get this!

Earthspark I haven't seen and I've honestly heard really mixed things about it. Starscream saying to Megatron, "Nowhere is safe if it's with YOU" is one of the most brutally honest lines I've heard. I haven't watched it, but there is a video on YT that breaks down Earthspark Starscream and talks about the PTSD symptoms he displays in the series. I hate that they made Star a villain for no good reason and threw away his trauma lore ugh. Give my baby a redemption arc already or something! And not a "bam bam he's okay now" make him work for it!

See, I still think Megatron is the more evil one who's done worse things than Starscream. I may be biased as a Starscream fangirl, but from what I've seen, 99.9% of the time Megatron (or another Decepticon) started it, and at least 50% of that time it was done to push Starscream's buttons and make him angry. Oh my gosh, I was about to mention that...."oOh bUt StArScReAm TrIeD tO kILl MeGaTrOn!" And look, I don't condone murder obviously, but considering Megatron has tried to kill Starscream before.....I understand why he snapped, like in that G1 episode where he blasted Megatron and, thinking he was dead, declared himself the new leader. Which then lead to him being thrown out of the Decepticons and enter the Combaticons, whom he treated like dirt. I have always wondered why Starscream allowed himself to follow Megatron (I assumed it was for power) but him having some form of respect for Megs is interesting....oh boy I need to do some deep diving on this.

But yes! Megatron's abuse likely created the part in Star that makes him lash out. And like I said I imagine he was always hot tempered (like Starscream, I get angry/irritated easily and I lash out. I'm not proud of it) but what Megatron did to him drove him over the edge. This behaviour was modelled to him, not just by Megs but by the other Decepticons. Also, they are in a war. Kill or be killed. Sympathy is dangerous and makes you weak. This is what's drilled into their brainboxes. And I imagine Starscream probably doesn't know/doesn't get the chance to let out his anger in a non-violent way.

"Star has done questionable things, and can be a jerk, but that doesn't mean it's his fault he endured what he did. It's only his fault for his /own/ actions of hurting someone else as a result. And that doesn't exempt someone from being able to become better and deserve better."

This! 👏He deserves another chance, he deserves happiness and a redemption. And if I have to write that for him myself, I'll damn well do it!

But really as someone who's dealt with some abuse like that, I just want to hug him and let him know he's loved 💔

I just had a huge realisation yesterday and I wanted to share this after going through some pretty horrible stuff over the weekend: Something I've always asked myself ever since getting into G1 Transformers was "why do you like Starscream so much even though he's a narcissistic bully? Why are you, someone who is a victim of narcissistic abuse, taking comfort in a narcissistic character?" Well, I think I finally figured it out. Because Starscream is also a victim of that very same abuse. I mean, he's beaten, called names, bullied, unappreciated, abused, and put through the wringer…and he internalised all that abuse because he knew no other way. He had no one to turn to, and the few bots who did support him, he treated like dirt. Once he had that freedom and power, he abused it and became the very thing that abused him. I have no doubt he was always self-centred, selfish, had a huge ego, etc. before all that but honestly? I think Megatron's abuse caused him to turn out the way he did. I could have turned out that way and it's a little scary, some of the parallels I'm drawing with him.

@ichbinmeltdown wrote a great analysis on Starscream that I want to share here:

"Megatron was abusive as hell to Starscream. He treated him horribly, and I legitimately almost cried a few times watching it. There's an episode called Starscream's Brigade that introduces the Combaticons, and I think that perfectly demonstrates the cycle of abuse. The entire world is against Starscream at pretty much every turn throughout the series, but none more so than Megatron. Every word out of his speech synthesizer to Starscream is to berate him, and he's constantly throwing him around, beating him, even ripping out his speech synthesizer in a scene from a previous episode (Hoist Goes Hollywood, IIRC). His own teammates don't like him, and even his brothers- Skywarp and Thundercracker, going off of the idea they're brothers- just... allow Megatron to abuse him. (Not to get into headcanons here, but I personally believe that Megatron's abuse fractured the Elite Trine's family dynamic. They are still brothers and love each other, but they're all too afraid of Megatron to really... stand up for each other as they did in the past.) And Starscream seemed to just snap in this episode. He treated the Combaticons poorly, and even when teaming up with Shockwave, he subjected him to a lot of the same ridicule and torment that Megatron put him through. He failed to realize Shockwave was the one of the only bots who would give him a chance- and unfortunately lashed out at him, which ruined his chances of Shockwave ever being a true friend and ally to him. Once Starscream had finally gotten a taste of power and not being under another bot's boot, he too became the very thing that he lived in fear of. And that really is how the cycle goes- when you're finally free from abuse, it can be tempting to overcompensate and take back all the power you were robbed of, at any cost whatsoever. Starscream, like D16 in Transformers One, snapped up this opportunity."

And the sad thing is, I've seen this in real life and I've internalised some of the abuse I've dealt with too. I'm not proud of it. Like the Seeker Trine, my own family dynamic has been fractured by similar abuse. I know there's traces of narcissism in my behaviour too, and I'm NOT proud of it. Maybe this is why I can forgive Starscream for being a narc, because I can see a little bit of my own personality/attitude/behaviour in him. Maybe it's because I know where it came from, I get why he acts that way and it's not just random and out of the blue. Maybe it's because--and I know this is a bold statement--I don't think he would do some of the stuff my own family did to me (blah blah blah he's a fictional character).

I didn't mean for this to turn into a long rant, so

TLDR: I finally figured out that part of the reason I love and relate to Starscream so much despite him internalising some of the abuse I went through, is because he was the victim of that same abuse.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

This is me yelling at you to write, as requested!

Are you still contemplating the Beauty and the Beast retelling(s)?

I am!

That post about characters who need a domestication arc before they can have a redemption arc came around again, and it reminded me of how much fun it would be to use that in a Beauty and the Beast retelling, but give Beauty the domestication arc.

I envision this dinner scene where Beast is this extremely refined anthropomorphic animal who knows how to use a hundred different kinds of silverware, and he's dying inside as Beauty breaks every single rule of etiquette a dozen different ways, but he's got this elaborate plan to give her an Eliza Doolittle arc to turn her into a proper lady that he won't mind marrying. But while Beauty's partaking of her meal in ways he considers better suited to farm animals, she's also thanking people and reacting to stuff that's not him. And Beast is like, "Who are you talking to?" And she looks at him like he's dumb and is like, "The servants. Can't you see them?"

And he can't. Beast had assumed that all the stuff moved around the castle by mysterious magical forces, so he's flabbergasted to learn that the servants have been people this whole time and he's the only one who can't see them. And it's symbolic, and stops him short, making him rethink his approach to the world and wonder if Beauty might have something to teach him before he can be decent marriage material.

That's the only scene I've got and I'm trying to figure out if I can justify presenting it as a short, because I like this one scene but don't know if I can extend it into a complete romantic arc.

[gravedangerahead]

pre-history au!!!

This is the result of reading The Dawn of Everything — which is a really great look at the immense variety of social configurations that existed in pre-history — while having Sydrian brain worms. So it's a hunter-gatherer AU. I always get pretty emotional about how humans were always humans, yk?

In what continent does the story take place? I don't know. When exactly in the really broad timeline of prehistory? Look, back when there were vampires, ok? Adrian says in The Fiery Heart that he has no idea where exactly vampires fit in human evolution and with this fic you can keep wondering lol

Sydney and Adrian come from different but intersecting groups

With Adrian I'm imagining a society where Spirit and spirit guidance has a known role, and where dreams have social importance. He still has the downsides of spirit but he has a better defined role.

With Sydney I enjoyed thinking about how a character who is so defined by being extremely intelligent would work in a society without writing and still be just as smart and capable. I thought about her love of stories and knowledge and witchcraft. I thought about the huge diversity of languages that existed then, even within one group. Her protectiveness and loyalty. Her curiosity. And her wish to travel.

And some romantic fluff. A lot of romantic fluff.

This is probably the one I thought about the most and the longest. Which does not actually mean that I wrote that much. It's just short of 25 hundred words long

I almost posted a section of it involving Malachi Wolfe that I was proud of immediately after writing, but decided against it lol

Also, I kind of didn't name any of the characters. It feels weird to have characters called Sydney and Adrian and Eddie in a prehistoric setting. It makes it a bit complicated

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 4 Normal Story

Chapter 4

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Azel: Enis, tell the High Priest...

Azel: ...that the God has taken a liking to the foreign girl.

-

(...This is...)

(Didn't this just turn into something outrageous...?)

I knead the dough in the bowl vigorously, trying to calm my agitated heart by focusing on the task.

The series of events at the castle didn't seem to be a dream, as my fingers, tired from excessive kneading, were screaming in protest.

Even so, I don't stop.

My remaining rationality urges me not to vent my frustration on the Living God.

Azel: I think it's about time you started talking to me, don't you?

Emma: ...................

The root of all evil sat perched unceremoniously on the counter, watching me work.

His nonchalant attitude, devoid of any "sorry" or "thank you," made me sulk.

(Enis's eyes had clearly changed color, and the women were flustered.)

(Judging from their reactions, this is the first time the Living God has shown a "fondness" for a specific member of the opposite sex.)

Of course, he's not actually fond of me in the way those words imply.

I was simply used as an excuse to drive away the many women sent by His Majesty the King and the "High Priest."

(...I was taught back when I was Belle that passing on one's bloodline to future generations is one of the duties of royalty.)

(Surely, the Living God, with his special status, is no exception.)

(But... why do I have to get caught up in this squabble?)

Azel: You may be unhappy about this, but I'm unhappy about it too.

Emma: If you're unhappy, then go retract your statement right now.

Azel: No way.

Emma: I hate it too.

Azel: It's a shame you're stuck with that debt.

(Is he going to bring up the debt every chance he gets?)

I crush the dough in my hand, and I think I see Azel's expression twitch slightly.

Emma: It must be nice to be the Living God. Even if unpleasant rumors spread, you can just take refuge here.

Emma: But I, staying in the royal palace, will be exposed to curious gazes.

Azel: In exchange, your treatment will improve significantly. You should be grateful to me.

Emma: ...Shouldn't you be the one who's grateful?

Azel: Then, as a reward, I'll give you the right to call me by my name.

Azel: You don't have to formally call me "Living God." I may not have introduced myself, but I'm Azel.

Emma: ...I'll pass. I feel like there's some ulterior motive.

Azel: Surely not.

Emma: I'll never trust an evil God again.

Azel: Oh, I could sue you for defamation for that. I'll change the amount on the invoice later.

(This person... no, this God...!)

Azel: If you keep being reluctant like that...

Azel: ...the worried princes of Rhodolite might come and attack me.

Azel: Is that alright with you? Violence against a God is grounds for immediate expulsion, but...

(Ah... I see. I have to act like I'm not completely against this at the castle.)

(This is truly unpleasant.)

Azel: By the way...

Emma: Ah!

Azel reaches for the appetizer I had finished earlier and pops it into his mouth.

It's a simple dish of just vegetables and cheese on a baguette, but perhaps because it's unusual for the Living God, his face clearly shows delight.

Azel: Delicious.

Emma: Snacking is prohibited!

As he reaches for a second one, I hurriedly take the plate away.

Azel: Isn't it the same whether I eat it now or later?

Emma: It's bad manners.

Azel: To lecture a God about manners...

Emma: It doesn't matter if you're a God or a human. If I hold back what I want to say, it will never get through.

Emma: I'm dissatisfied with both the snacking and being used as a shield against women!

(This is also something I learned when I was Belle.)

(If I'm deferential just because someone is a prince, I might end up as an accomplice in falling into a trap or being dragged into bed...)

(It's precisely because I've been through a lot that I know the importance of asserting my will without fear.)

Even if the other person is a God and not a human, if I accept everything, I'll become a slave in the truest sense of the word.

That's the one thing I didn't want.

Azel: It's just right that you snap at me like that. It would be troublesome if you fell in love with me.

Emma: You have quite the confidence.

Azel: It's from experience. Some of the women who flock to a God become serious.

Azel: ...Disgusting.

(What's with that way of putting it...?)

Perhaps something happened in the past, as his beautiful face becomes terribly distorted.

His merciful smile disappears, replaced by a clear expression of disgust.

Emma: Is it wrong to fall in love with the Living God?

Azel: It's absolutely forbidden.

Emma: Why...?

Azel: Because it's an eyesore.

*flashback to dream*

???: Love isn't such a great thing.

???: Sometimes it's better to end your life as an innocent person who knows nothing.

*back to present*

(That just now was...)

I stop my hands at the voice that passes through my head.

It should be a non-existent memory, but for some reason, it overlaps with Azel in my mind.

Emma: ...I think "eyesore" is a terrible thing to say.

Azel: Then let me ask you. How would you feel if a man you didn't like clung to you?

Emma: I wouldn't like it.

Azel: See?

Emma: ...That's exactly what you are doing now, though.

Azel: A God is an exception.

Emma: It's not an exception.

Azel: In other words...

(...He blatantly avoided the question.)

Azel: Being loved is an eyesore, and a God will never love a human.

Azel: But the fools still plead for me to "love a human," even though they know that.

Azel: I'm so sick of it.

(I wonder if this has happened many times before.)

(...No. Judging from this look of disgust, something even worse than today might have happened.)

I don't know the circumstances, and I'm still resentful that I got dragged into something that has nothing to do with me, but his genuine distress comes through, and my agitated heart gradually calms down.

Emma: So, the Living God decided to keep me around because he saw in me the quality of someone who would never fall for him?

Azel: That's right.

Emma: Then, there are some words you should say to me, right?

Azel: Huh?

Emma: There are, right?

Azel: ...........

I smile sweetly, and Azel, perhaps understanding what I'm trying to say, furrows his brow deeply.

Azel: ......Please, help me, God, Goddess, Emma.

(Unexpected... If I ask, he'll actually say it.)

(Though he looks extremely reluctant.)

I sense a bit of sincerity, and my anger subsides.

Emma: Very well. I'll consider this helping a person... no, helping a God.

Azel: ...What is this sense of defeat?

Once I've made up my mind, the rest is the same as when I fulfilled my role as Belle.

I swallow my hazy feelings and face the bowl once again.

Azel: Oh, right. I forgot to mention...

Azel: Be careful with your belongings from tomorrow onwards. Who knows where they might plant a love potion* (aka aphrodisiac).

(...........)

Emma: ………… What?

.

.

.

Chapter 5

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

It's the 6 month anniversary of this blog! Check out these cool bugs I found.

(EDIT: Check out this amazing fanart by thecornermushroom!)

Part 2 - Part 3

[northernfireart]

Hi!

If you want to and only if you want to, could you do TenRose hurt/comfort prompt or TenRose Victorian era prompt? Once again, only if you can and want to, because I think art demands lots of time and energy - it's a miracle people can draw so much! Anyways, no pressure 💖🪞💌✨🌷

i might do hurt/comfort some time in the future because i find it really soothing, but right now i've been thinking a lot about them attending a ball ever since i drew my last regency request...