#the thing you should take away from this is that he trusts no one

[summertimesadnessirl]

The next step in the comic is when this person intentionally picks a fight with you. No matter what you say. No matter how you say it. Even if you discussed this before. Even if you came up with like, an action plan. Even if you carefully selected someone who you thought you could trust. Someone who would never.

If someone talks to you when you're overstimulated you should literally go ahead and start the fight yourself (I've never tried that but it's the one thing I haven't tried) because there is nothing you can do to stop the fight from happening. It is impossible. You got caught not being happy in public so now you probably lose this person as a friend or a useful ally or a significant other or a trusted person or whatever they are forever, and if you don't you are going to be at their mercy and owe them apology and deference for the rest of your relationship and they will never trust you and always pick fights with you and know that as soon as they goad you enough you will lose even if you're right so they can do anything they want and get away with it because you can't fucking control the volume of your voice. You're a loser. You're a baby. You're a monster. You're committing assault. You are not free. This is a cage. These are the bars of your cage. Anyone can lock you in it at any time for free. You begin to claw at your skin again, but it won't come off. It won't come off and you are too aware of it. People aren't watching. Thank God people aren't watching. If someone catches you clawing at your skin they will throw you in a cell for 72 hours. No one will actually do anything in the cell, but the government will take your tax refund for almost 6 years to pay for the cell and you will miss so much work you almost get evicted. Your boyfriend will yell at you a week after he cried and went down on you when you got out because you can't tell him how to fix your depression and the "emergency plan" you filled out with the doctor said "I have no idea just leave me alone in a corner someplace with my headphones." It's never about you. It's never about you. You aren't even allowed to die because your life is not your own. You can leave this boy but there will always be another boy. It could be a girl instead. They could be your "boss" or "friend" or "business partner." If they catch you unhappy in public they will also be a cage. Anyone can always turn into a cage. You wish you were actually in a cage most of the time, so you consider committing a crime. You think you could probably surprise your cell mate in prison with something weird enough that they would beat you to death or you would get solitary. That sounds easy. You only have to worry about one person and they also got thrown into a cage. They have a way you can lock them up, too. You don't care unless they can beat you to death. Pen stabbed into the brain. You can't hang yourself. You can't explain why you can't hang yourself. You are afraid death won't take if you hang yourself. You will wake up, somehow. You need it to be permanent. You need it to be over. Then you hear that in prison, they can force you to work in a call center.

They don't cover that part. That everyone wants you to be the biggest bitch in the world because then you don't get to be a person. They see that you are stressed out. They aren't fucking stupid. They want to make it worse because they want to hurt you. You learn that no one who says they are your friend will not sell you out. Will not gaslight you. Will not trick you or trap you or force you. Other people keep telling you to stop being avoidant and ask for help.

[bahablastplz]

Battleground: Minho x Reader

Prompt: "Hii, i was wondering in you could write a one shot of alpha!minho x Alpha!afab. They met through their friend/roommate Jisung who is an omega, and they are enemies and Jisung has to break up their fights, but this one time they end up having sex while fighting for dominance." Content: Smut, angst, omegaverse, enemies to lovers, switch/dom Minho, switch reader, alpha reader/alpha Minho, afab!reader WC: 5000 Note: hi yes I got carried away with this but this was super fun to write. enjoy!

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You should have never trusted Jisung. This is often a motto of yours, actually, seeing as he’s responsible for nine out of every ten instances of trouble you find yourself in. But he has big pleading eyes and he can be so convincing that you throw caution to the wind every time he speaks. 

You needed a new roommate. Your old one bailed on you (thank god, because she was actually the worst). She was filthy and never cleaned up after herself. She left dishes in the sink, piles of trash for you to take care of, and was blatantly rude. You let out a sigh of relief when she told you she was moving and it took all of two days for her to fuck off for no apparent reason. She left your life as violently as she entered it, however, leaving piles and piles of her junk for you to take care of as well as half of the rent once again. 

You wish that you could lie and say that you could afford it by yourself but you simply couldn’t. It was just too far out of your spending limits and so… you needed to find a new place to live. 

When Jisung suggested you come to live in his spare bedroom, it really didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. You knew the omega well enough; he wasn’t the cleanest in the world but he’s a step up from your old roommate for sure. Plus he was one of your closest friends. If anything, you knew you would feel comfortable around him. The only reason you had hesitated at first is because everybody always tells you not to live with your friends. Somehow you doubted this would be an issue with Jisung though. 

It would be fine, right? You’ve heard only good things about his other roommate, Minho. Jisung jokingly refers to him as his platonic soulmate sometimes but you don’t really know anything else about him. You were a little weary about sharing a living space with two omegas and all, being an alpha yourself, but you were no asshole alpha. They would have nothing to worry about. 

Once again, you should have never trusted Han Jisung. 

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“What are you doing? You’re going to scare her away!” You hear through the door of the apartment. You’re a little unsure when you hear muffled shouting and you feel an uneasiness in your stomach that you ignore but you can’t help to continue to listen. “Why are you acting like you don’t want her here?” 

“Because I don’t. We don’t know her!”

“You don’t know her. I know her perfectly well and you should trust my judgment.” You use this as the opportunity to knock on the door which swings open to a wide-eyed Jisung. He looks guilty of something and you’re confused before it hits you all at once. 

The apartment reeks of cinnamon. Every crevice and corner is dripping of the strong smell to the point you can hardly smell Jisung’s vanilla, even if you really focus. That’s when you come to the realization that Jisung’s roommate isn’t an omega… He’s an alpha. One intentionally covering the whole apartment with his smell before he even gets to know you to assert his dominance. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes at the stereotypical alpha behavior and you resist the urge to cover your nose at the smell. Just because Minho is being rude doesn’t mean you need to be rude in return. 

And before you can even say anything to greet him, he’s walking away and slamming his door shut. You give Jisung a look and he’s already looking at you apologetically. 

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I really am. He’s not usually like this, I swear. I don’t know what’s going on–” 

“Jisung,” you interrupt. “You never told me he was an alpha in the first place!” 

His mouth opens slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. “I didn’t?” 

You sigh at him and take a deep breath. “Just help me with these boxes, okay?” And as if he’s eager to be back on your good side, he helps you without a fuss. 

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It’s two entire days before you even see Minho again. It agitates your own alpha, really, knowing that there’s someone else in your living space you haven’t gotten a proper chance to meet and scope out. But you’ve finally gotten yourself settled into your space and you have to admit it’s nice being so close to Jisung all the time. 

You stumble out of your room after an afternoon nap to find him cooking in the kitchen. It takes you by surprise, honestly, because for someone who has already tried to be so stereotypically alpha, it just seems like a very… omegan activity. You tell yourself it’s not polite to pass judgments on someone you hardly know, especially regarding their secondary gender, so you don’t say a word about it. You do, however, make an attempt to properly introduce yourself.

“Hello,” you say lightly. Minho’s shoulders tense up for a second before they relax. “I’m Y/N.” He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything. You make a face from behind him, where he can’t see you. What is his deal? You lean against the wall, trying to think of a way to make conversation. If this were anybody else, you wouldn’t bother but… you’re doing this for Jisung, after all. This is supposed to be one of his closest friends aside from you. “How long have you known Jisung for?” you try. 

“Longer than you,” he scoffs. This catches you off guard as you’re not quite sure what to make of the statement. Is he trying to be possessive over the omega or is he just trying to show you that he’s winning whatever competition this is? 

“Oh. How long would that be? I’ve only known him for two years or so, but we’ve grown really close–” Minho finally spins around and you make eye contact for the first time. His harsh gaze is the first thing you really notice about him, his feline eyes sharp as they stare daggers into you. He’s very pretty, you note, and it almost pisses you off even more. How can someone so attractive be such an asshole? 

“You’re not my friend,” he says, pointing a wooden spoon at you threateningly. “This was my space first and you have no right to intrude and try to be buddy-buddy with me. I don’t know you.” His words are blunt, to the point. He turns back around and… god, he’s trying to assert dominance again by shutting you up and ending the conversation here! Better yet, his cinnamon scent spikes and swirls around the room, haunting you. 

You won’t retaliate with your own scent. You’re better than that. But that doesn’t mean you’ll let some alpha think he’s better than you and shut you up without a fight. “Who’s fault is that?” you spit. Minho freezes so you continue. “Who’s fault is it that you don’t know me, hmm? I never asked to be your friend, Minho. But I’m not here to intrude and I’m not here to take over your territory and become the new head-alpha, okay? I’m here because Jisung invited me. I’m here because I need a place to live! Is it really so fucking bad to think that maybe you can be civil with me? Instead you’ve been defensive since the second I walked through that door!” Your anger is spiking and you need to get control of yourself before you explode on him. You turn around and slam your door shut before you can say anymore. 

Once on your bed you fight the urge to punch something. You certainly let yourself get riled up fast. It annoys you that someone you don’t even know has this sort of effect on you. But you close your eyes and will the anger away, telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, it’ll get better. 

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It doesn’t get better. It gets a whole lot worse, actually. Your first movie-night in with Jisung you actually get nauseous with how much he reeks of Minho. 

“Jesus, Sung,” you tell him. “It smells like you rolled around with him right before you came into my room.” 

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. It’s so hard to be mad at him. It really is. “He’s been extra clingy lately for some reason.” 

“For some reason,” you grumble. You know exactly why. “He’s trying to intimidate me to stay away from you, probably.” 

“What? Minho would never do that!” he says. You glare at him and he cowers down immediately. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” he admits. 

“I’m tired of him making me feel like I’m the crazy one here! Everyone I talk to shoots praises out of their ass for him and meanwhile, I’m public enemy number one. I seriously don’t know what his issue is with me and I’m getting sick and tired of everyone telling me what a great person he is!” you rant rather loudly, ending with a great sigh. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Jisung asks. You feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Yes, I have,” you tell him. “Multiple times. Each one ends in an argument or one of us storming off. I just can’t figure out what his deal is.” 

“Maybe–” 

“Sung, let’s just watch the movie, okay? I’m starting to get irritated and you’re not the one I’m upset with.” 

He concedes and snuggles in a bit closer to you, pressing play on the laptop. If you discreetly try to cover him in your own ginger scent? That’s between you and the moon goddess. 

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You find yourself in the midst of some sort of war and you’re on the losing side. Lee Minho has made it his life mission to inconvenience or irritate you in any way he can. 

Exhibit A: One morning you find yourself running late for class and you open your door just to trip over a conveniently placed pile of his shoes. Cursing his name in your head, you grab your backpack and run out the front door, just narrowly making it in time for the professor to start talking. Fast forward to the end of class when you pull out your folder just to realize that said folder is nowhere to be seen. Your homework which you spent over an hour on the previous night has vanished, gaining you a zero on the assignment. You’re sure you’re seeing red when you get home and your folder is on the kitchen counter.  

“I don’t know what game you think we’re playing, but sabotaging my grades is going too fucking far, Lee!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he sips on a cup of coffee. You fight the urge to throw it in his face. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to make me late for class and hide my folder!” you say, waving the folder in his face. He looks irritated but it’s no match for how you feel. 

“Your belongings are not my responsibility,” he says with an eye roll. “Next time maybe don’t misplace your stuff.” You leave because you’re not confident in your ability not to punch him. 

Exhibit B: Poor Jisung has tried to set up an apartment movie night. It’s a good idea, in theory, to try to get some supervised bonding. Jisung even sits right in the middle, anxiously picking at his nails the entire movie. That’s only after Minho accuses you of burning the popcorn and fighting with you over which movie to watch. Jisung ends up picking it. It was going well until he stretched his legs out over Jisung’s lap and into your space. You shove his feet off of you faster than he put them up. The action makes him almost fall off the couch and spill his soda all over himself and Jisung. 

The omega stands up covered in soda and huffs. “I give up!” he cries out in exasperation. 

“It’s her fault for pushing me–” 

“Give it a fucking rest!” you cry out. 

Everybody ends up in their respective rooms that night. 

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 You didn’t want to go to this party. You really didn’t but you figured that you owe Jisung big time for turning his apartment into a warzone. The omega already has social anxiety and doesn’t love parties himself so you promised you would tag along. 

Minho is here too. You tell yourself you won’t interact with him but you keep catching his eyes from across the room. Deep down you hope that maybe the alcohol will mellow him down a bit and make him more tolerable. And maybe you use alcohol as a coping mechanism this one night. You’re stressed and a walking ball of tension every second of each day, not even able to relax in your own apartment. 

You always have an eye on Jisung when you party together. But you indulge in some tipsy flirting for once. This guy is super cute, after all… freckled face, long blond hair that frames his face, and a deep, sensual voice that makes you giggle and fawn over him. You amp up the usual techniques, touching his arm and laughing at all of his jokes. And when he leans in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck you don’t stop him. 

But somebody else does. 

One second you're bracing yourself for a drunken kiss and the next a hand is wrapped tightly around your arm, pulling you away. You smell burnt cinnamon before you even realize what happened and the anger that bubbles in your chest is unlike any you’ve ever felt before. You retaliate just as fast with an overwhelming mix of ginger that smells so strong it burns your nose. Before you can yell you’re being pushed out the door and into the cold of the night. 

“What the fuck was that,” you spit at Minho. You yank your arm out of his grip. 

“We’re leaving,” he tells you. 

“Like hell we are! You don’t get a say of who I spend my time with or when I decide to leave.” 

“I get a say when you’re making idiotic choices,” he answers, voice low. He spins you around until you’re pinned against the wall and his skin burns hot against yours. 

“No, you don’t. You’ve made yourself loud and clear that you don’t give a fuck about me. My bad choices are mine to make, Minho, not yours.” 

“You’re not thinking straight,” he tells you once he finally lets go. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “Felix… he’s… I know him from my dance studio, okay? Just.. trust me and don’t go home with him. You can’t kiss him. Not Felix.”

“From your dance studio? Wow, ladies and gentlemen! Lee Minho has revealed exactly one thing about himself! He’s a dancer!” you say with mock surprise. You stumble a bit and Minho steadies you by your waist. It only serves to piss you off even more. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” he asks. It’s probably the softest you’ve ever heard his voice yet. 

“No. I think I’m going to go kiss Felix and you can go fuck off,” you protest. You cross your arms and you look away from him because his cheeks are also flushed from drinking and he worries his lips between his teeth so you can’t stand to see it. 

He takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I swear to god you’re going to walk home with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and bring you home myself.”

Before you snap back at him about how ridiculous he’s being, the door opens and Jisung steps out. “Guys?” he questions, looking back and forth between the two of you. You’re breathing heavily and your fists are clenched but your anger dissipates the second you see the disappointed look on Jisung’s face. He wanted you here to keep him company. To soothe his social anxiety and to prove that you could be there for him, to show up for him like old time’s sake. And just like that, the adrenaline high slowly fades when you realize you’ve let him down. Anger turns to sorrow and guilt and god, no you won’t let Minho see you cry but you bury your face into Jisung’s neck. You whisper an apology and tell him you want to go home. 

You can’t help but feel like Minho has won this round, in some roundabout twisted way. 

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You avoid leaving your room for the next day. You don’t really feel like you’re deserving of wallowing in your own sorrow, especially since the one who is impacted here is Jisung, not you. You’ve let him down. You don’t get to mope. So… what you’re doing is avoiding. Avoiding Minho and therefore avoiding any more conflict. 

It’s the next day you leave your room. You notice the scent of vanilla a little more sweet than normal and when you knock on Jisung’s door you notice he’s nesting. A mixture of your clothes and Minho’s are piled in his bed and you feel a pang of guilt in your chest. 

“You okay?” you ask. If Jisung is in preheat and you’ve avoided him for the past 24 hours, he’s probably feeling pretty antsy. He does let out a breath of relief when he sees you though and brings you in for a hug. 

But of course your timing is unfortunate because Minho unlocks the front door at that very moment. When he sees you in Jisung’s arms he growls, causing you and the omega to stiffen. Minho crosses the room in seconds and the smell of cinnamon behind you gets stronger. 

“Off,” he says low into your ear. You have half the mind to snap at him but Jisung’s vanilla scent burns. You back off, giving Jisung a small nod before disappearing to your room. The last thing you want to do is distress Jisung further just before he starts his heat. This needs to stop. It needs to end. 

Jisung leaves the next day to spend his heat in a hotel. Despite the apartment being more comfortable for him, the unit isn’t equipped to deal with the overwhelming scent of heats and ruts. You couldn’t afford a scent complaint fee. Jisung doesn’t complain as you help him pack his bags and you even help him into the hotel room. You offer your best support in helping him rebuild his nest though you don’t have the same omegan instincts as he does. 

“I’m sorry again,” you tell him before you leave. “For everything. With Minho. It’s… we’ll work it out. Okay? Love you Sung.” 

He gives you a sad smile. His heat should start by the morning, you would guess. You just hope he can be comfortable and not worry too much about you and Minho. 

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Minho is standing anxiously by the door when you get home. You half expect him to crowd you against the wall but he doesn’t, eyes glued to the floor instead. 

“You smell like him,” he tells you. 

“Yes Minho,” you reply sarcastically. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. Jisung is my friend too. You don’t have to act all possessive of him all the time.” 

He hums. You feel your blood boil again. How does he get you so worked up to the point of your heart pumping a mile a minute every time you see him? 

“Minho. Be honest,” you start. He finally looks up at you. You can’t read his face. Your alpha goes back and forth between wanting to pounce on him and run away in fear. You need to do what you think is right. “Do you want me to move out?” 

You aren’t expecting his reaction. You expect him to laugh in your face. You expect him to be overjoyed. But instead he seems shocked. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean what? Don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted from the very beginning. You win, okay? I concede. You want your space? You want to be the only alpha again? This is it. This is your opportunity. I’m offering you a way out now. No more fighting. No more upsetting Jisung. If you want me gone, just say the word. Please. I’ll leave.” 

“Don’t.” 

“What?” You almost think you’ve misheard him but he takes a step closer and he looks at you with pleading eyes. “What is your gameplan then? Why make me miserable since the second I move in? Argue with me, tell me who I can and can’t kiss, for god’s sake make me fail a fucking assignment? If you don’t want me fucking gone, Minho, what the fuck do you want–” 

You’re cut off by his lips clashing against yours so hard your head would have hit your head against the wall if not for Minho’s hands holding you as if you’re something precious. Your teeth clank together but you’re breathing him in and reciprocating his affection just as violently as he gives it. When his tongue enters your mouth and you taste cinnamon you realize you’ve never hated the smell, never hated him… He kisses into you like he needs you to breathe, like he’s been in the desert and you’re his oasis. 

You’re not sure that a kiss has ever felt like this before. You think for a moment that you might not be able to kiss anyone again after this, everyone and everything lacklustre compared to Minho. Minho. Minho. Nobody has ever and will ever make you feel this burning, boiling… hatred? lust? desire? Whatever it is you feel, you’re not sure it could be replicated. 

When you wrap your leg around his waist he grabs under your knee, hoisting you against the wall. His mouth is all over you and he explores every inch of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. Your hands take purchase on his shoulders, in his hair, you’re not sure but you want to feel every inch of him there is to explore. Cinnamon has never smelled so sweet.

Minho brings you into his bedroom and it’s the first time you’ve stepped foot into his space but you don’t take the time to look around. In fact, the only thing you notice is that his comforter is soft, soft against your back as he throws you onto his bed. Your clothes are all but shredded from your body and if you had claws you would have used them to get every inch of useless fabric off of Lee Minho’s body. It makes you angry that he’s still clothed, so angry that you forgo pleasure in replacement of ripping the clothes off of him harshly. He grins. He has that smug fucking grin on his face you want to wipe off and you kiss his stupid lips again. This time when you kiss you’re both completely naked and every part of your body that touches his is scalding. 

When you sit on his lap your bare pussy slides along his cock and you both groan. His hands are on your hips and in desperation you both move back and forth. Every time his cock catches on your entrance you both let out a hitched breath but neither of you can stop. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna knot you, you know that? I’m gonna fuck you so full and then knot you so that everybody knows you’re mine,” he pants as he ruts his cock against you desperately. Is this just another way for him to stake his claim over you? To show that he’s the true alpha? Oh hell no.

“You’re such an asshole,” you tell him with a hiss when he finally slides into you. He’s big. You already knew this from the (not so) dry humping just moments ago but it still pisses you off when he stretches you nice and full. “Stupid asshole alpha with a stupid big cock.” 

When he looks up at you it’s with adoration and it throws you off. His eyes gleam and his teeth are caught against his bottom lip in a sultry grin. He plants his feet against his bed and thrusts up into you hard and fast–you almost fall because you have no time to plant your hands anywhere for balance. But the almighty perfect Minho catches you before you fall because of course he does. His hands on your waist only hold you in place to give him the opportunity to fuck up into you with more force and the wet sounds that come from between your bodies are filthy… but only serves to turn you on even more. 

“You were saying about me being an asshole?” he asks. His voice is breathy and low and you fucking hate how much you love it. 

“If all you wanted was to fuck me this bad you didn’t have to act like such a dick,” you say through tight lips. Okay. You’re trying not to moan, to give him that satisfaction. Who could blame you? “You only made me hate you more.” 

“Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “It wasn’t on purpose… didn’t like you at first but all of a sudden it turned to lust and… can’t you feel what you do to me?” He punctuates his point with a harsh thrust and fuck, you vaguely remember him mentioning he was a dancer. Perfect body, perfect hips and thighs made just to fuck you like this. 

“How you treated me wasn’t fair,” you tell him. You need him to know and you’re lowering your hips, trapping your legs under his so he can’t bounce you up and down on his cock anymore. Your hand snakes up to his throat and takes purchase there, watching the way he gulps and his eyes turn heavy at the action. You feel a burning satisfaction at the way his hips buck into you involuntarily when you squeeze slightly. “Say it,” you coo. “I want to hear you admit to me that you know you treated me poorly.” 

You expect a fight from him because, let’s be honest, Minho always puts up a fight with you. But any ounce of opposition leaves his body the second his eyes meet yours. He looks regretful. He looks small. “I treated you poorly,” he tells you. His eyes never leave yours. “I acted like a child because I had feelings for you that were misplaced. I liked you from the beginning and I… fuck, I didn’t know how to deal with that and I pushed you away. I wanted you to hate me.” 

The confession that spills past his lips is the last thing you’re expecting him to say. Your grip on his neck falters and he uses his stupidly impressive core strength to sit up, bringing your lips into a kiss. It isn’t explosive, it isn’t word-changing, but it is sweet and apologetic and very Minho. 

He places you on your back and resumes his pace, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. At this angle he reaches deep inside you and the first time you gasp he resumes his brutal, relentless pace. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna knot you, please let me knot this pretty pussy,” he pleads. The first time he said it it was a demand; this time he asks from his soul, baring it to you and giving you ample time and opportunity to reject it. 

“Yes,” you moan. But if he’s going to claim you as his from the inside out, the least you could do is return the favor. And so you scratch Minho, raking your nails down his back until they’re sure to leave a mark. And when you’re both on the precipice you bite down onto his shoulder hard, just inches away from his scent gland. It’s not a mating bite but it is a mark, a claim. You suck hard into the bite just as he finishes, his knot expanding and catching on your entrance. You don’t release your mouth from his skin until he’s done pulsing inside you but to your surprise, he doesn’t stop moving his hips. Despite his knot locking you in place he grinds his hips into yours in small circles, putting pressure right onto your clit with his pubic bone. It’s too much, the stimulation of your clit, his knot, and the thick head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you causing you to cum around him hard with a cry. 

You feel as if you’ve been electrocuted, little shocks going through your whole body with every wave of your orgasm. You almost wish he was bad in bed, if just to keep your dignity and tell him that he wasn’t all that. But with the gutteral noises he dispelled from your body, lying would just be a farce. 

When you’ve both finally calmed down and his knot finally deflates, you half expect him to kick you out of his room. You’ve built up your walls so high around him that it’s hard to imagine him treating you any other way. You’re anxious for sure, moreso at yourself for allowing yourself to be so hopeful. But Minho rolls over and grabs you, holding you close to his chest. Even when you squirm he doesn’t dare to let you go. 

“I really am sorry,” he tells you. A murmur into your hair. “I don’t want you to move out. I’m sorry for treating you the way I did. My alpha thought… that because we like you that maybe asserting our dominance would make you like us more. I know that’s illogical and just sounds  like an excuse but…” 

“I forgive you,” you tell him. “Well… maybe I don’t forgive you just yet. But I can if you prove to me that you’re done with the macho asshole alpha act. No more being possessive over Jisung. My friend by the way! Still haven’t gotten over that. And no more sabotaging my grades.” You shoot him a glare and he only looks at you sheepishly. Harsh looks turn into soft stares and all of a sudden he’s kissing you again. Your tension has already begun to melt away. You begin to see the charm of the Lee Minho everybody has told you about and you think, maybe… just maybe everything will be okay now. 

“I think we owe Jisung a gift,” Minho whispers into your hair. 

“I think we owe him a hundred gifts,” you wince. 

“He’s not going to believe his fucking mind when he gets back.” You laugh so hard your stomach begins to hurt. You think maybe you like the way Minho looks when he smiles. You think maybe you really like the way cinnamon and ginger smell together. You think maybe you could get used to kissing Minho and that burning, bubbly feeling in your stomach agrees. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

[delugyu]

beomgyu teaching you how to jerk him off (pls i’m ovulating i need to be put down)

hey twin i’m ovulating too! can u tell by how depraved this is

(wc: 2k / warnings: virgin!reader, corruption kink, big dick!beomgyu, handjob)

beomgyu’s head might explode. quite possibly his dick too. you’re sitting in front of him on his bed, wide-eyed and innocent but so eager to help him with something so dirty. he has to calm down before he blows his load too fast and makes himself look like the virgin here.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” beomgyu asks, checking in one more time before he lets you put your hands on him. you nod with sparkling eyes and a cheerfulness that doesn’t match the situation at hand. he can’t deny how much your eagerness turns him on, though. beomgyu never thought he had a thing for virgins, but fuck, you’re doing something to him.

you sit cross-legged, hands held in your lap as you await instruction. it makes beomgyu’s cock throb, and his head is reeling with all the images of things he wants to do with you. he keeps himself grounded as best as he can, trying to remember that you’re here to learn, not to fulfill fantasies of his own.

“what do i do first?” you ask, looking at his pants. it makes him laugh. he grabs your chin to redirect your attention back to his face, smiling fondly when he sees a hint of embarrassment in your eyes.

“you should always start with kissing,” beomgyu says, tugging you towards him until you’re sitting in his lap. the surprise on your face is pretty cute. “it really sets the mood.”

“okay,” you say, but do nothing. beomgyu tries to hold back his laughter, but he just can’t. it’s so funny to watch you get so shy. you pout, then pull your face in to peck his cheek. he runs a hand up your thigh, endeared by your action.

“a real kiss,” he says. it really doesn’t seem like you’re going to make the move, so he decides to make it easier for you. he cups your face and brings you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that starts out much sweeter than what the moment would suggest.

your lips are soft and fit well against his own, and beomgyu finds himself feeling so lucky that you’d ask him of all people to help you with something like this. it makes him happy that you trust him this much. he bites your lip ever so slightly to get you gasping, letting his tongue slip between your parted lips to deepen the kiss.

he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he holds himself back from getting too intense. he’ll settle with this slow, sensual kiss, at least until you get confident enough to take more. your little noises are admittedly very hot, and beomgyu knows you must feel his cock twitching beneath you.

you pull away to catch your breath, and your eyes fall on the string of saliva connecting your lips. beomgyu smiles and licks his lips as if he’ll catch any lingering tastes of you. you hesitantly bring your face back to his, and he closes his eyes and parts his lips expectantly, but your mouth meets his jaw instead. you don’t place a peck there like you did to his cheek—you suck on his skin like you would his lips, pulling away after a few seconds to blink up at him.

beomgyu’s stomach is doing cartwheels. he can’t help but find everything you do attractive, even when it’s done with such uncertainty and inexperience. your mouth continues latching onto his skin and sucking, trailing down his neck. he’s sure that you won’t leave any marks—you’re not really sucking that hard, but it’s enough to have him losing his mind. he groans when your hips involuntarily push forward. he wonders how wet you must be right now if you’re already having trouble controlling your body.

“can i touch you now?” you ask, fingers dipping into the hem of his pants. god, beomgyu’s head is spinning. you must be some kind of succubus sent to taint his soul. if you are, it’s fucking working. he’s obsessed and all he’s felt so far is your lips.

he nods and leans back a bit. “yeah, take those off.” you pull down his pants and boxers both in one go, and he watches with a grin when your eyes widen at his cock springing out.

“you’re really big,” you muse, still staring at his dick. beomgyu bites his lip as he watches you wrap a hand around his shaft, not able to close your hand all the way because of his girth. you look up at him, unsure what to do next. beomgyu has to reel himself in, remembering that he should be teaching you right now.

“you should spit in your hand to lube it up. dry handjobs don’t feel that good,” he advises. he holds his breath as he watches you bring your hand to your mouth, a glob of spit falling past your lips and into your palm. he shuts his eyes tight to keep himself together, trying not to cum from just the sight of you doing something so dirty.

your hand falls back to his cock and gives it a few jerks to lubricate it. beomgyu bites his tongue to hold back a moan, but he can’t stop his hips from bucking up into your fist. your eyes meet his again, curious and bright. he wants to kiss you again, but he has to remember that this isn’t about him.

“is this good?” you ask, working your saliva-slicked hand over his cock. if you only knew how hard beomgyu was holding back right now—even through your clumsy handjob, something about you is making beomgyu lose his mind.

“y-yeah. you can try squeezing a little tighter, maybe,” he says, and he cringes at how uncomposed he sounds. the moment you take his advice and wrap your fist tighter around him, he throws his head back and groans. it seems to encourage you, and you start moving a little faster.

fuck, he can’t cum yet. he’s trying to think of anything else, something to keep him from bursting at the seams, but the feeling of your hand wrapped around him is so overwhelming. you look so focused, like you’re taking notes of his reactions and repeating anything that makes him keen. you’re fucking ruining him, god.

“how do i make you cum?” you ask, and the question itself is nearly enough to do it. he’s catching his breath and looking at you through hooded eyes, taking in your eager little hand tugging at his cock and the way you look so determined to get him off. a part of him wants to lay you down and get you all worked up; it’s not fair for him to be suffering alone like this.

“you can—ah, fuck—twist your hand when you come up,” he suggests, and his eyes roll back when you try it out. your movements are getting more confident now, and beomgyu can’t contain his moans anymore. his mouth hangs open, panting pathetically as he feels his orgasm creeping up on him.

you surprise him when you lean your head down to spit onto his cock, lubricating it even more and allowing you to move faster. you really are a little demon. he wants to bend you over and fuck himself into your cunt, wants to have you leaking arousal and crying out for him. he wants you to be moaning and shaking and begging him for release, but instead it’s him on the receiving end of that. he’s going crazy.

“fuck! i’m gonna cum, keep doing that,” he urges as his hips fuck into your fist. you don’t stop him, letting him chase his orgasm until he’s spilling all over his cock and your hand. he’s groaning as he watches his seed spill onto you, imagining what it would be like to cum on your face or your tits instead. shit, what are you doing to him?

“was i good?” your eyes shine with hope as you wait for beomgyu’s answer, and he chooses to respond with a messy kiss to your lips. you’re not here to let him make you cum, but god, he wants to so bad. his brain is flooded with the image of you squirming beneath him, of defiling you and taking your virginity. he wants to dip his hand beneath your pants and feel how wet you are.

you push at his chest to separate from his kiss, eyes darting across his face curiously. this is killing him. he already feels his dick stirring back to life.

“i can show you something too, if you want,” beomgyu offers, still panting from his orgasm.

“like what? you already came.” he attaches his mouth to your neck and sucks desperately, so needy for you to stay here with him. he’s not done with you yet, you can’t leave him without giving him a taste of you. “gyu?” your voice is laced with confusion, your eyes are too when beomgyu looks up at you as he marks your chest. thank god you wore that slutty little low-cut top.

“maybe i could touch you?” he suggests, hand massaging your thigh.

“but that wouldn’t be teaching me anything,” you say, tilting your head. he kisses you again, so endeared and turned on by your innocence. he coaxes your mouth open and shoves his tongue inside, licking into your mouth and holding your face still. he wants to leave you dripping and needy, to tease you until you’re begging him for more.

he guides you down against the mattress, never disconnecting from your lips, eating up your moans and whines. his hands descend down your sides slowly, stopping when they reach your hips. he’s dying to take off your pants and dive into your cunt.

he pulls back to look at you. your lips are puffy and red, and your hair’s all disheveled around you. your eyes are glassy, and your chest heaves with how hard you’re breathing. he might cum again just from the sight.

“do you want me to touch you?” he asks, hoping you’ll say yes. if you even start to nod, beomgyu wouldn’t hesitate to tear your pants off. he needs this more than he’s ever needed anything else in his life.

you sit up suddenly, which makes beomgyu pull away in confusion. “i should go,” you say, picking up your phone from his nightstand.

“what? why?” did he do something wrong? he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he could have sworn you looked just as into it as he was.

“i have to see taehyun tonight,” you say meekly.

“oh. right.” you’re seeing taehyun. that’s why you had him teach you any of this, after all. he got too caught up in the moment.

you stand up and stare at him, swaying awkwardly in place. beomgyu thinks briefly about convincing you to stay.

“thank you,” you say, not even looking him in the eye. beomgyu’s hands itch to pull you back onto the bed. he wants to hold you down and keep you from leaving. he’d kiss you speechless until taehyun’s not even a thought in your mind anymore.

“yeah,” he says, feigning nonchalance with a simple nod. you’re walking out now, and he has to ignore the voice in his head telling him to run after you.

he collapses against his bed when he hears his door close. taehyun’s his friend, but beomgyu really hates him right now. he can’t think about you and taehyun together without seething. beomgyu doesn’t know where this is coming from—sure, he had a little crush on you some time ago, but he thought that left as soon as you two started hanging out more.

he just hopes that whatever you’re doing with taehyun isn’t better than what you did with him. he’ll be damned if he finds out that taehyun laid his hands on you tonight. he prays and prays that you miraculously stop finding interest in taehyun and leave him before anything happens between you.

what does he want then? for you to come back to him, crying about how bad you need him?

…yeah, that kind of is what he wants, honestly.

[cece693]

PART 2 OF THE BUCKYxLOKI’S BROTHER PLEASE!! (And thank you)

He's Cute Pt. 2

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: date night, cute moments between bucky and reader, protective bucky, reader having eyes only for his man, couldn't help myself so we have some jealous bucky

The morning sun cast a warm glow on the bustling New York street as you and Bucky left the Avengers Tower, side by side, for your much-anticipated coffee date. You could practically feel Bucky’s heartbeat thrumming—his energy was a mix of nerves and excitement, hidden behind a carefully maintained cool exterior.

Still, you caught the way he’d sneak glances at you, how he kept a polite but protective distance between you and the street, and how his hand hovered near the small of your back whenever you paused to look in a shop window. If there was one thing you’d learned about James “Bucky” Barnes, it was that beneath the stoic shell, he was a sweet, attentive soul.

When you reached the little coffee shop a few blocks away, the sweet aroma of espresso and baked goods made you inhale appreciatively. Bucky let you step in first, his eyes still straying to you while you gawked at the menu board.

“Wow,” you murmured, half to yourself. “So many options. Mocha latte, flat white, salted caramel… Are these incantations?”

Bucky suppressed a grin, remembering the first time you’d asked that. “No magic, promise,” he said, nudging your shoulder gently. “What are you in the mood for?”

Before you could answer, the barista—a cheerful guy in his mid-twenties with a neat man-bun and bright green apron—leaned over the counter, practically beaming at you. “Hey there! First time, huh? Don’t worry, I can help you pick the perfect drink,” he offered, sliding an elbow onto the counter in a move that was definitely meant to come off as suave.

You blinked, oblivious to the barista’s flirty smile. “That’s kind of you,” you said politely. “I’ve only tried a couple coffees so far.”

“Awesome,” the barista replied, eyes dancing with interest. “You should let me whip up a custom latte just for you. Something sweet, with a little extra foam on top, maybe a heart design…”

Bucky cleared his throat, stepping forward so that his broad shoulder was just enough in the barista’s line of sight to cut off the direct gaze. “He’ll have a caramel macchiato,” Bucky said firmly, voice low in a way that suggested the barista hurry it up. “And I’ll take a black coffee.”

The barista’s smile faltered, eyeing Bucky with a mix of confusion and polite fear. “Sure thing.”

As the barista fiddled with the espresso machine, you turned to Bucky, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t realize there were so many specialized drinks. Custom lattes?”

Bucky’s jaw unclenched, and he mustered a small, reassuring smile for you. “Yeah, they get creative. But trust me, you’ll like the macchiato.”

Once you two collected your drinks, you picked out a cozy table near the window. The morning light bathed you in a soft glow that made your hair look…well, downright ethereal, if Bucky were being honest. And from the corner of his eye, he noticed more than one patron shooting glances your way.

You sipped your caramel macchiato, eyes lighting up at the sweet, creamy flavor. “This is wonderful!”

Bucky felt a surge of pride, as if he’d personally crafted the drink. “Glad you like it,” he said, resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers across your knuckles. Before the conversation could deepen, another interruption arrived—this time a fellow customer who lingered by the pastry display, giving you a once-over before sauntering over.

“Good morning,” she said, flipping her hair with a practiced flourish. “I haven't seen you here before."

You, perpetually polite, offered a friendly nod. “Yes, I’m new to Midg—New York. It’s very different from home.”

She giggled, eyes trailing over your features. “Well, if you need a local guide, I live right around the corner.” She lowered her voice, leaning in conspiratorially, “And I know all the best spots.”

Your eyebrows lifted in genuine curiosity. “Really? That sounds interesting.”

Bucky’s grip on his coffee cup tightened until his knuckles turned white. He cleared his throat, but she didn’t budge—she seemed more than happy to ignore him entirely, focusing on you like a hawk. “Yeah,” she continued. “I could show you a real good time. How about—”

“He’s good,” Bucky cut in, voice dangerously soft. He stared her down, his intense blue eyes flicking to her face with a distinct warning.

She blinked, finally noticing the murderously protective glint in his gaze. “Oh—are you two…?”

“Yes,” Bucky said bluntly, not even letting the question hang.

You, still oblivious, looked between them. “We’re on a date,” you added helpfully, as though trying to clarify.

The woman looked between you, Bucky, and his metal arm resting on the table. An awkward laugh escaped her. “My mistake. Enjoy your coffee.” She walked off, adjusting her purse with forced nonchalance.

As soon as she was gone, you turned back to Bucky, your expression perplexed. “She was hitting on me, right? Is that like a phrase, ‘hitting on someone?’ Because you said—”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, irritation still simmering just behind his calm veneer. “She was.”

“Oh,” you murmured, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, that’s not a problem, is it? I mean, people here are friendly…”

Bucky exhaled heavily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He reached across the table, lightly brushing the back of your hand. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he said softly. “Just...it gets on my nerves when strangers try to pick you up right in front of me.”

Understanding dawned on you, and your eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He shook his head, giving a dismissive little shrug. “Not your fault at all. I just…might have a jealous streak, I guess.”

A warm smile curved your lips. “That’s kind of sweet. In a protective way.”

Your words made him relax, and he actually managed a genuine, sheepish grin. “Glad you think so.”

With the interlopers gone, you and Bucky finally got some quieter moments. You asked him about the differences between the 1940s and modern times—he gave you quick anecdotes about old radio shows, dime coffees, and awkward attempts to use smartphones now. In return, you regaled him with tales of Asgard—though you stuck to the less epic parts, not wanting to overshadow the mundane joy of a simple coffee date.

Sometimes Bucky would reach out and tap the rim of your cup with his vibranium fingers, almost like he wanted an excuse to brush against your hand. More than once, your gentle laughter made him forget the rest of the café altogether. That is, until your phone chimed with a text—a reminder from Tony about some meeting in a couple of hours.

“Guess we need to head back soon?” Bucky asked, trying and failing to hide his disappointment.

You nodded regretfully, finishing the last sweet sip of your drink. “Seems so. We can’t exactly ditch the meeting, can we? Tony would… he’d probably show up here with an Iron Man suit,” you joked.

Bucky gave a small smirk. “He’s petty like that.”

With some reluctance, you both stood, disposing of your cups and stepping out into the warm late-morning air. The short walk back to Avengers Tower was surprisingly pleasant, even with the occasional sideways glances from passersby who recognized one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Bucky kept close to you, occasionally brushing his shoulder against yours, as if to remind everyone this is my date.

The moment you stepped through the Tower doors, though, you found yourselves ambushed by the rest of the team loitering in the lobby—clearly waiting. Tony, arms crossed over his chest, grinned like a cat who caught the canary. Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha stood behind him in a loose huddle, each wearing various degrees of curiosity and mischief.

“Would you look at that,” Tony drawled, “our resident star-crossed duo has returned.”

Sam smirked. “Didn’t think a simple coffee run would take this long. Or is that code for something else?”

Clint raised an eyebrow suggestively. “‘Coffee run?’ That’s a new one.”

Bucky glowered at them, ears turning pink. “It was just coffee. And we walked.”

“Walked,” Tony echoed, lips twisting in an exaggerated pout. “Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

You, still glowing from the morning’s events, decided to speak up. “There was coffee, yes, and a few people...tried to start a conversation.”

Natasha picked up on your hint of confusion. “Tried to start a conversation? That’s a polite way of saying they were hitting on you in front of Bucky?”

You nodded earnestly, unwittingly dropping the bomb the team was waiting for. “Yes, actually! Twice, in fact. Bucky was not pleased.”

A collective gasp and a few stifled laughs rippled through the group. Sam hooted, patting Bucky’s shoulder. “Oh man, did you go all Winter Soldier on them? Metal arm intimidation?”

Bucky shrugged off Sam’s hand, trying to maintain dignity. “I just told them to buzz off. That’s all.”

Tony snickered. “I can see it now: ‘Move along, buddy, or you’ll be meeting Mr. Vibranium.’”

Steve, at least, tried to look sympathetic. “Glad it went okay, though. The date, I mean.”

“It was nice,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting in a sincere smile. “Very…sweet.” You turned to Bucky, stepping closer. “Thank you for showing me more of Midgard’s culture.”

Before Bucky could form a reply, you leaned in and planted a quick, affectionate kiss on his cheek. The lobby erupted in whoops and cackles. Sam feigned swooning against Clint, who patted his forehead dramatically. Tony cupped a hand to his ear as though straining to hear wedding bells. Bucky froze, eyes going wide, heat rushing to his face. But the grin that broke out was nothing short of radiant.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Tony teased, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Looks like we’re gonna have to start calling you guys ‘Sugar and Spice.’”

Clint made an exaggerated smooching sound. “Or do we call you both ‘Buzz Off!’ and ‘He’s Mine!’”

Bucky grumbled something incoherent, but he still looked over at you with soft eyes that said he didn’t regret a thing.

[inkyrainstorms]

Martian Stan AU - Aftermath & Discovery

The Beginning (1), Aftermath (2) (here), next

Extra! (The Apology)

Ford didn’t know how long it took for him to pry himself off the floor, but it felt like hours later when he managed to trudge his way upstairs, eyes burning and throat raw. There was new blood on his knuckles, and Ford couldn’t remember if it was Stan’s or his own. He’d tried to scrub the blood off of the portal, but most of it had been too high and Ford was so tired.

He couldn’t fall asleep in the basement, he chanted to himself, again and again and again and it only occurred to him once he stood swaying at the top the of the stairs, that is didn’t actually… matter, anymore.

It didn’t matter what Bill did, or didn’t do.

The portal was broken beyond repair. His brother was dead.

The journal is gone. his mind whispered insidiously, and he couldn’t remember if he’d always been so cruel to himself, or if it was a byproduct of Bill. You got what you wanted, Sixer. How does it feel?

Ford hobbled to the bathroom as fast as he could manage, and hurled his guts out into the toilet. When all that came up was acrid bile, though, and Ford wondered idly when we he last ate. It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered, Ford decided firmly, hands clenched on either side of the porcelain bowl so hard that they looked bloodless in the harsh white light. It didn’t matter what he felt, or didn’t feel.

Not anymore.

The journal was gone. That was a good thing, it meant that the portal could never be rebuilt again. Stanley made an honorable… he. He’d made an honorable sacrifi—

Ford hunched over the toilet and heaved again. Nothing came out.

Impossibly, time kept moving.

Ford was left drifting in the current, from room to room, machine to first aid kit to paper to specimen to paper to circling the door of his lab again and again like an anxious sentry. He didn’t process any of it, and eventually, the door was the only thing left in the house that felt truly real. It was the only mystery left that Ford could pay any real mind to, and most of the time he wanted nothing more than burn the whole thing to the ground.

Sitting against the door, head leaned back and staring at the ceiling, Ford searched his mind for something. Anything.

A plan, a goal, fuck, he’d take the will to actually get out of the house and get groceries despite the constant chance of being watched at this rate. There was near nothing left to eat in the cabinets that wasn’t rank with age, and Ford knew he was wasting away like this.

But there was nothing. No part of him cared.

He knew he’d always had the wildest aspirations as a kid and as a young man, that he’d never stop reaching for bigger and better heights, but the light had blinded him with its promise, and now he’d fallen. He’d fallen so far.

He’d said Icarus didn’t flap hard enough, when Fiddleford tried to warn him of his own hubris all those weeks ago. Now he was just glad he wasn’t an English major, because it had taken him all of this just to realize that Icarus had found the sun, been embraced by the promise of warmth, and burned for it.

Trust no one.

Ford traced an idle finger against the freshly bandaged burn on the underside of his hand.

And no one should ever trust you.

…

The worst part, Ford thought to himself as he brewed another pot of coffee and searched for a clean mug, was the uncertainty of it all. There was a grief in loss, of course, but not knowing could be so much worse.

Stanley could still be alive out there, among the creatures of the Nightmare Realm, all alone. He could be dying. He could be dead. He could be sitting on the other side, waiting, hoping Ford could open the portal and bring him home—

Ford slammed down the sole clean  coffee cup he had left hard enough to startle himself, and then sighed.

He’d have to go clean up the remains of the portal, eventually. Before he fell asleep and Bill…

Ford poured out the coffee and leaned heavily against the counter as he took a sharp swig. It burned the whole way down. 

What did he have left that Bill wanted? What reason did Bill have to keep him around if his research was beyond saving, if he couldn’t be threatened or tortured into complying anymore?

The next time he fell asleep…

Ford didn’t know what’d happen to him, and despite everything, damnit, Ford didn’t want to die. He couldn’t let Bill win, couldn’t become another footnote in the history of the world because he was just another one of the poor schmucks who fell for Bill Cipher’s lies.

Taking another gulp of liquid courage, Ford pulled his coat tight around himself and marched to the door of his lab before he could talk himself out of it.

Forget not sleeping in the lab. Ford couldn’t sleep at all until he found a way to sever Bill from his mind for good. Project Mentem had been a bust last he’d checked, but it was worth another shot. What else hadn’t he tried? There was something… a protection spell? A charm?

Ford contemplated his options all the way down the stairs, one hand keeping him steady on the wall while the other held his mug. 

He still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted yet, or what his next step was, but Ford could do this. He just had to secure his mind, like he’d planned, and then get rid of the blasted portal once and for all. Nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed. Nothing, nothing, except that Ford felt hollow where there must’ve once been something warm and vital in his chest. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel warm again. He didn’t deserve to.

Ford remembered a detail about sleep deprivation, as the elevator neared the basement level again and his heart dropped in time with the doors hissing open. Hallucinations were a common byproduct of the resulting sensory overload and exhaustion. They could take auditory or visual form, though visual hallucinations were a more common symptom by over 52%.

That was the only explanation he could conjure for the faint singing that echoed through the dark, cavernous sub-level before him. 

“It’s not real,” Ford whispered to himself, hands a vice around the coffee mug. He felt cold. “Auditory hallucinations are an expected and well documented symptom to experience in conditions less dire than these. Focus on your intellect, Stanford. Focus, focus, it is not real.”

For a long stretch of time, seconds, or perhaps minutes, Fords feet were glued to the floor of the elevator. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said or did, the singing, or the static, remained steady and quiet. 

It wouldn’t go away unless Ford made it. 

Finally, Ford forced himself to creep into the basement, and then the control room to set his mug down on the desk. The music was louder now, more distinct here than it had been before. Had Ford left a radio on down here? Was that it?

Holding his breath, Ford crept around the trashed room, checking behind spare sheets of metal that had been propped up against the walls, kneeling to look under the control panels, and then behind them too. All the while, the music droned on, buzzing and humming and settling under his skin like an itch. 

-any- wind blows—

It got louder as he neared the very back of the room, the words filtering through the humming static and becoming clear. Ford couldn’t deny it anymore. That was a voice. He shivered hard, jolting like ice had been pressed to the back of his neck, and hurried forward. 

-really matter to me… To me. 

There was a pile of debris, in the back of the control room, farthest from the door where he’d entered. Stanley must’ve crashed into it, when Ford and him had been… when he’d…

-just killed a man —a gun against his head…

Ford slowed his pace, staring down at the dented metal plates and machinery that had fallen loose in a heap on the floor, the stray wires and screws jutting out of the mess every which way. Slowly, Ford sank to his knees and pressed his aching palms onto the cool floor beneath him.

He could hear the singing now. Warbling, staticky. Familiar.

-Life had just begun, and now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.

Ford choked on his next inhale, thin and trembly as it was, and searched through the wreckage with wide eyes. 

There. Nestled between a dented panel with half its screws undone, and a jumble of wires and smaller panels of sheet metal, was the source of the sound. 

For a long, long moment, all Ford did was stare.

Oh mama… oh ohh oh. Didn’t mean to make you cry.

If I’m not back again this time tomorrow…

Ford’s hands trembled as he reached out, carefully prying the radio out of the scrap heap and holding it up in the dim light.

Carry on, carry on…

As if nothing really matters…

The voice faded out. Static.

Ford set the radio down on his lap, gently, as it would shatter into a million pieces otherwise, and pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.

“Stanley?” Ford choked out, and it was like trying to breathe glass. But he had to know, he had to, because— because…

He sat there, dully staring down at the radio Fiddleford had cobbled together months ago, when they’d still been in the implementations stage of the data and blueprints they’d collected, when the preliminary tests had begun. A device to send and collect waves and other information from beyond this dimension without actually opening a rift.

And here it was. In Fords hands, dented and scratched and still whole despite everything. Ford had turned his sights completely to the portal before the it’s completion, since Bill had deemed the entire endeavor a waste of time and energy and an ineffective outlet for his genius.

Fiddleford must’ve completed it, back when he was still just as enthralled in the project as Ford was. He missed his old friend, but Fiddleford was likely back home by now, in California to try and reconnect with his wife and child. As bitter as Ford was, he hoped Fiddleford was successful. His old friend deserved as much and more. 

There was no reply to Ford’s question, except, Ford brought the radio to his ear and strained to listen through the faint static. Was that… humming? 

Doo- doo doo, yeah, no poindexter, I‘m done, man. That’s the last song of the evening, I’m not paid for overtime. 

Moses, wish I were getting paid for this.

Ford jumped, wincing at the sudden burst of noise loud enough to make his ears ring, then processed what Stanley, because that had to be Stanley, had said.

“Stanley! Where are you? Are you in the Nightmare Realm? You must be… what sort of method did you find to transmit your signal? Are you al—“

But Stanley continued speaking as though he hadn’t heard him. A thrill of irritation  went through him. Was Stanley ignoring him? Was this some kind of petty revenge tactic?

When’d that song come out anyway? ‘75? 

He hummed.

Sounds about right.

Ford shook the radio and bit back a growl, before he remembered that the technology in his hands was damaged and sorely in need of a repair and upgrade, and loosened his grip again. He set it down in his lap.

“Stanley, I need you to take this seriously, please, for once.”

Wow, that song was everywhere back then, wasn’t it? I remember thinkin’ Ford probably liked it when it came out, wherever he was. The nerd was probably in college.

“Stanley?” he tried again, but he wasn’t expecting a reply anymore. Stanley soldiered on, rambling about everything and nothing and Ford could almost hear the smile in his voice if it didn’t sound so tired. 

Hell, where’d I first hear it? Must’ve been over at a gas station in… eh, Kansas? Somewhere over there, the big ol’ middle states. 

We sure aren’t in Kansas anymore.

Ahh, those were the times. Me, the open sky, and so, so much dirt in my hair. Seriously, where did the dirt come from. I roll around in one haystack and suddenly i’m fishing filth out of my hair a month later.

Stanley went quiet again, before he laughed. 

Aw man, I actually like this story. Buckle in folks, and I’m taking us back to that weirdly cold summer day in Kansas, where I had to steal 5 prized chickens. For some reason.

Look man, when someone pays you a hundred bucks and tells you he wants chickens, you don’t ask questions. 

Anyways, I’d been-“

For the past few… well, it had to have been days since Stanley fell through the portal by this point, if Fords state was anything to go off of, Ford’s mind had been eerily blank. He’d been a hollowed out shell of his former self, a ghost in his home and life that held onto the living plane by only the barest threads and pure spite.

It was like a switch had flipped. Ford’s fingers drummed on the outside of the radio as he forced himself to his feet, mind whirling at a hundred miles per hour and making calculations and theories and discarding some and contemplating others, and he was nearly jittering as he walked out of the control room entirely. He’d need to find a way to secure this side of the portal from Bills influence, recollect his journals, and then, he was bringing his brother home.

He stopped just before he got into the elevator and turned around to stare down the wrecked portal that loomed overhead. The once perfect inverted triangle, now ruined and warped nearly beyond recognition.

He grinned in a way that was more just like baring his teeth.

“You may be a god, Cipher, and you may think you can control me, but never forget. I am a scientist.”

The portal stood dead as it had been, but Ford didn’t care. He whirled around and stalked into the elevator. He felt more awake than he had in days. And he had research to collect and a demon to banish.

Stanley was still talking, as the elevator began to shudder and rise, and Ford’s adrenaline shot began to ever-so-slightly wane. Something about… attack pigeons?

-And when I finally think I’m in the clear, I duck around one of the hay bales and come face to face with, and I’m not kidding here, a cow wearing heavy duty armor, like a helmet and shit the guy in ‘Nam would wear. It even had holes for the ears!

There was a strange sound then, and Ford realized with a start that it was coming from him. He was laughing. It wasn’t even than funny, really, but something about Stan delivery made Ford wheeze. 

When was the last time he’d laughed? It must’ve been before this whole thing started, when he’d been with Fiddleford or B—

The laughter died in his throat. Oblivious to Fords inner turmoil, Stan kept on jabbering.

And there I was, 5 chickens smuggled into my coat and in my bag —and if you’ve never tried to carry 5 chickens, never do, it’s hard as hell and not worth it at all— staring down ol’ Bessie. 

And then, because this fucking farm couldn’t get any weirder, the cow started moo-ing like it was setting off a tornado siren, and all the other cows in the whole place started mooing in sync too. It was fucking terrifying man.

They must’ve been calling the attack pigeons, because those suckers came back, and they started dive-bombing my sorry ass, and really, that was when I reached my limit.

I dove into the hay bale like a damn football player going for the end line, and even though it was by far the itchiest thing to ever happen to me, it saved me from death-by pecking so I’ll take take it. 

The itchiest, of course, save for my stint in Albuquerque.

Ford could almost imagine Stan shaking his head as he paused again. With a start, he realized he was still smiling.

Just. Don’t try selling pillows in Albuquerque is all I’ll say.

Stan gave an audible shudder. 

So many feathers… And itch powder. The itch powder didn’t help. 

Ford couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out of him at that.

Tags! (I’m sure I’m forgetting someone, pls tell me if you want to be on the list! Or just follow the tag that also works) @aroace-get-out-of-my-face @pleasantartisanhottea @littlelilliana15 @empressofsamoyeds @pinesfamilycatsau

Super Epic Secret Surprise!

[emo-gremlin]

The Doctor x Reader SFW Headcanons!

💻 Refers to you as his prize experiment or his special lab rat.

💻 He isn't romantic in the conventional sense. He never was one to express his emotions well. But you can tell in little ways that he does care about you.

💻 He still tends to study you, and your reactions to things. Taking notes on your interactions with Yarnaby, how you sleep, what you enjoy, etc.

💻 Insanely touch starved and in eternal denial about it. Vaguely protests to cuddles, and secretly looses his mind if you fall asleep on him. (Think of how if a cat sleeps on you it is illegal to move)

💻 You know he cares about you when he leaves you and Yarnaby alone together. He lets you get close to him, eventually leading Yarnaby to become just as protective of you as he is The Doctor himself.

💻 Will carry you to bed/tuck you in if he catches you asleep. He will act like he did no such thing.

💻 He may not understand all the "memes" and "tiktoks" you tell him about, but he at least listens.

💻 He likes dissecting medical dramas with you in his off time. Loves pointing out inaccuracies and flaws. His favorite is nip/tuck.

💻 You watched human centipede with him once.

You: augh i hate these guys at work

Harley: *picks up scalpel*

You: Put. It. Down.

Harley: >:(

💻 Is surprisingly good at giving massages. His knowledge of human anatomy is unparalleled and his metal hands are perfect in rubbing out the tense spots. Though....he only really does this either on special occasions or if he REALLY wants something.

💻 You and Yarnaby are the only people he trusts to leave him to charge. During this time, he's in sleep mode and vulnerable.

Bonus Yarnaby and reader headcanons!

🦁 If he sees you laying on the bed, he lays right next to you, letting you snuggle right up to him.

🦁 Purrs a LOT around you, being one of the first to treat him with genuine love and kindness in a long time.

🦁 Your kindness to him has even taught The Doctor to be kinder to him too.

🦁 He loves playing keep away with his toys, tug of war too.

🦁 Can and will drag you along while on walks. Most of the neighborhood knows now to keep out of his way.

🦁 He brings you his toys if he sees you upset. They cheer him up, so they should work for you too!

🦁 Loves cuddling up with you and the Doctor. He...did accidentally break your leg once when you and the Doctor starting living together. You had to train him how to get up into your lap.

🦁 Will butt his head against you for attention.

🦁 You will know when it's time to feed him. He has hit you with his food bowl before trying to get your attention.

🦁 Will curl up in Harley's lap while he charges.

🦁 Once tore apart a bear who broke into your backyard. It took weeks to wash out the blood stains.

🦁 Tackles you every time you come home from work. Same with Harley.

Enjoy <3

[slavicdolls4mangione]

troubled lu healing through meeting you hc:

a/n: i’d like to preface that this is purely fiction because none of us know how lu’s relationship with his parents is, i’m sure he loves his family and that they love him just as much. that being said i hope you guys enjoy, especially the lovely anon who made the request <3

- when lu first meets you, he introduces himself as “mark," an identity he’s crafted to protect himself in a way

- lu is desperate to be someone who’s not tied to the suffocating expectations of his family

- "mark" is the man he wishes he could be: calm, “normal”, free of the burden of his past; he’s a little rough around the edges, secretive, and distant, but there’s still kindness in his eyes that he tries to suppress

- it’s hard for him to trust anyone, especially with the guilt of what he’s left behind by running away

- over time, as you show him warmth and understanding, he starts to feel something he hasn’t in years: hope

- there’s a tenderness in your care, a kindness that doesn’t feel transactional like his family’s love did

- your laughter is a comfort to him, a sound he didn’t realize he had longed to hear, you made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could have a normal life outside of his family’s demands

- and slowly, lu begins to falter, "mark" begins to slip and luigi emerges slowly, quietly

- at first, it’s just little things—his smile softens, his voice becomes less guarded

- one night, after a difficult day when the weight of his past feels heavy on his shoulders, he confesses to you

- it happens almost unintentionally as you’re lying together in silence, his head laying on your chest, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his breath shaky as he whispers, “i’m not... mark” his voice cracking with emotion he hasn’t let himself feel in months

- he would see your eyes widen, but there’s no judgment in them, only confusion and concern

- that’s when he tells you about his family, about the pressure to live up to impossible standards, to become the perfect “heir” to his grandfathers legacy

- his past was a life of suffocating rules that crushed every bit of freedom he could have had as a child; he feels like he betrayed everyone by running away, but at the same time he can’t bear to go back

- there’s a lot of guilt tied to his escape, he never wanted to abandon his responsibilities, he was raised to be the heir after all, the one to take over the family’s empire, to be perfect

- he was always told he could never fail, but the more he stayed, the more his soul withered, and he realized that living in that suffocating cage would mean losing who he really is

- lu would tell you he can’t help but feel selfish for running, and sometimes you would catch him waking up in the middle of the night, cold sweat dripping down his face, his heart pounding from the nightmares of what he left behind

- you can tell he’s terrified that he’s abandoned a life most people would kill for, and yet... you both know he can’t go back to it

- when he has emotional breakdowns, you’re always there to hold him, to remind him that he’s safe, even when he doesn’t believe it himself

- one of the most heartbreaking moments happens at the beginning of your budding relationship when you, unaware of the depth of luigi’s trauma, casually share a carefree memory from your childhood, such a simple and happy memory, but for lu, it’s like a slap in the face

- he can’t even look at you as you talk about your childhood, because in contrast, his own was filled with expectations; his parents didn’t care for him the way they should have

- they didn’t let him be a child, instead of playful summers, he remembers long and boring hours at his family’s estate, being forced to study, to work

- and he starts to feel this overwhelming sense of grief and rage, as if something fundamental was stolen from him

- lu would take a deep breath and tell you : “i remember... i remember being a kid, and one day my father caught me playing... he said it was a waste of time and scolded me for it”

- you would listen to him sharing stories from his childhood with tears in your eyes, but you refused to let yourself cry because you wanted to be strong for lu, didn’t want him to feel like you were pitying him, that’s the last thing he needed

- since that day, you’ve understood that his wounds ran deep and vowed to help him heal his inner child

- you became his safe haven, the one place where he could finally be himself without fear of judgment

- you listened without pushing, comforted him without trying to fix him all while staying firm in reminding him that he deserves happiness, that he’s not broken beyond repair, and that he’s allowed to let go of the past

- you encouraged him to find his own path, to rediscover joy and slowly with your help, lui began to let go of the weight of his guilt

- he knew that, although it would be a long journey, you’d be by his side every step of the way, loving him unconditionally for who he truly is

- through your guys’ relationship, luigi learned that it’s okay to be vulnerable, and that love can be a source of strength, not just something he has to hide from

<3

[seitmai]

Ahh so many thoughts

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.” Steve couldn’t believe his luck. “How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question." “Understood.” Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

Ahhh I love the comparison of him looking like a little boy asking a grown up question 😍

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.” “More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

🥰🥰🥰

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

Wedding gift? Have I missed something lmao?

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.” You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms. “Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

Haha fair

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.” Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy. “You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

Ahhh i can't with them

"You have a dance studio?" "You have a dance studio," he corrected.  "I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

He knew right away what he wants and went the extra mile before being sure it would work

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now.  And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

🤭🤭🤭

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

Iconic behavior of both of them hahah

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.” Steve cocked his head, grinning now. “Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

Duhh she's taking ownership

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

This is literally not putting the cart before the horse for those two 😅 after this wedding that apparently happened, her already being pregnant would not be out of the ordinary, like true to them they should already have a three year old or something, talking about unconventional 😂

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know he liked that. but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

🤭🤭🤭

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.” “How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?” Steve chuckled and then got serious. “Must be true love.”

Must be 🤷🏻‍♀️🤭

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

Thoughtful and ready to go at once

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. This was a fucking beautiful man.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

Someone is really eager to be a dad👀

“Can’t waste a drop.” “You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.” He laughed. “Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.”

They are a perfect match 🤭 

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.” You grinned back. “I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.” You sighed. Your one regret.

Valid

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

🥹🥹🥹

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..” She laughed and you shook your head. “Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

She's like: bitch, I saw this one coming 😂

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

I'm sure the wait won't be long 🤭

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

I'm sure it was a great, much needed hug 🫶🏻

“No comment?” Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. “You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

👀👀👀

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.” His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. “That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

He is ready to spoil her rotten

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama." "Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Fair haha

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Period!

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown. “It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

I can feel Steve rolling his eyes haha

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

They are ready for the drama 😂🤭

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

Hahaha was she getting ready to throw some punches??

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.” Your cousin groaned dramatically. “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” Your voice was strong and steady. “I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?”  You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly. “You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.” You leaned in even closer. “The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” You smiled at her sweetly. “And he follows.”

The way I screamed reading this 👏🏻

🤭🤭🤭

Peach VII

Peach VI | Peach VIII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. Do you leave there single or a married woman?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I have all of the words and none of the confidence. Oh I hope you like it. It may not be everyone's cup of tea. This is part one of the Valentine's weekend bundle. I hope you like it. Let me know my LOVEs! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach VI. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Steve Rogers is rich, bitches!, the big one bling, the event! stripping, pole dancing, lap dancing, sloppy blow job, is this Subby!Steve? woman on top, nipple play (m receiving), size kink, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, a lil bit of cum play. Family feeeelings, Bucky being Bucky, Steve being a simp, jealous bitches, almost catching a case at a gala.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

“Is that what you want?” Steve said as his hands gripped your waist.

You couldn't look away from his eyes which were deeply searching yours.

When you moved your hand to his chest, his heart thudded through the muscle and the bone to your fingertips.

You nodded and marveled at how far you both had come in such a short amount of time.

You were sure.

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.”

Steve couldn’t believe his luck.

“How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

His beautiful deep velvet voice had you swooning in his arms. 

“Everything. It’s worth everything, Steve.”

It was unthinkable what you were feeling. But it was oh so right.

Steve’s look was so serious for a moment and then he kissed you again. He flipped you over, torso pinning yours down, abs between your legs. You whined with need as he kissed you, tenderly, his fingers tracing your face.

Then he pulled away.

“Get dressed, Peach.”

“What?

“Get dressed. Pack up. You’re checking out of the hotel.'

You looked at him and cocked your eyebrow.

“Oh. Am I?”

Steve chuckled at your sass. It was so cute. Then he pulled you close and whispered in your ear.

“Yes. You are. Remember I said that I was going to give you what you need, when you need it?”

You shivered at the way Steve handled you.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question."

“Understood.”

Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy.

And then he asked you a very grown up question.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the corridor to Steve’s penthouse at the top of the Rebirth building. There were two doors on the entire hallway, both mirroring each other. 

Steve walked beside you to one of the entrances, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back, a touch both casual and possessive. 

Your mouth dropped open when the door opened on floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Manhattan skyline. 

The view went on forever.

"Jesus, Steve. This is… Beautiful!"

Your eyes shone as you turned in a circle to take in the room.

"Wait until you see the rest."

You were wandering now, your fingertips trailing over the sleek countertops, the rich leather of his couch, and the curated artwork lining the walls. Everything about the space was sophisticated, masculine, Steve.

You wondered how you could lend your touch.

Steve had gone into another room, his bedroom, you imagined, to put your things down. He came up behind you as you stared out of the window, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kissed your neck as you leaned your head back on his chest.

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.”

“More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, bringing it in front of you. 

The diamonds on your hand glittered and caught your eye as you reached to touch what was inside. It was a necklace with double diamond solitaires, one cushion cut and one pear shaped, nestled side by side on a thin, gleaming chain.

A moi et toi design.

To match your ring.

You blinked up at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. He pecked you on the lips.

“Steve…”

He reached out, and plucked the necklace from the box. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck as he draped it around you.

“Moi et toi,” he murmured near your ear. “Me and you.”

You swallowed, your fingers rising to touch the stones on your skin as you gazed out on the city. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Two stones side by side; one strengthens the other.” 

His thumb brushed over your collarbone, tracing the edge of the necklace. 

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.”

You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms.

“Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

There you were, being adorable again. The way you’d fought him up until this week made Steve stand in disbelief at how accepting you were of him. And how easily you’d run off with him to Connecticut tonight to become his wife. 

It was crazy, but it was so right.

“I do. I seem to recall meeting you in heaven, because all I remember thinking is ‘who is this angel.’”  

You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.”

Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy.

“You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

You swallowed at the octave drop in Steve’s voice and he traced your throat with his thumb as you did it. Steve gathered you to him, pressing his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered into your ear.

“Come with me, there’s something else I want to show you. " 

He grabbed your hand and led you down a hallway. 

You followed until he stopped and turned to you with a mischievous grin. Then, he opened the door behind his back and backed in so he could watch your face. Curious, you followed him inside. 

Then you froze. 

It was a good sized space. Mirrors lined one entire wall, reflecting the soft glow of LED track lighting. You stepped out on the wood floor and realized that it was made from premium materials.

But what really caught your attention was the sleek, stainless-steel pole standing tall in the center of the room. You turned slowly, meeting Steve's expectant gaze. 

"You have a dance studio?" 

"You have a dance studio," he corrected. 

"I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. 

Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now. 

And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

The way you smiled at him made Steve’s heart flutter. He nodded and came close and tried to kiss you, but you twirled away from him to the other side of the pole. He flashed you a smile and your butterflies started up again.

“It was right after you threatened to shoot my balls off. I knew you had it bad.”

Steve sighed as if he was nostalgic for your death threats. You laughed as Steve grabbed for you again.

You scooted away from him.

“Don’t touch, Mr. Rogers,” you admonished as your finger wagged in front of those lips. 

Then you pointed, and Steve followed your hand as if mesmerized. He was the one who had it bad.

“Why don’t you sit down so I can test this thing out? Haven’t had a proper dance workout all week.”

Steve nodded and went to sit down on the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

You stepped forward, and your pulse quickened as you held Steve’s gaze. He leaned back against the back of the chaise, arms crossed over his broad chest, and his t-shirt straining across his shoulders, biceps, and chest.

His blue eyes were focused with an intensity that sent a shiver through your body.

"Music?" you prompted. 

Steve smirked and tapped his phone. A pulsating beat filled the room, the bass vibrating beneath your feet, and causing your hips to sway. You didn’t have your heels and you were in loungewear, but one of those things was to your advantage.

You grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, teasing a glimpse of your skin as you swayed to the music.

Steve’s eyes darkened and his breath visibly slowed.

You took your time, dragging the cotton up your body as you shimmied, baring the skin of your stomach, then your bra, then your collarbones as your head was hidden for half a second.

You winked when you emerged and you moved closer as you leaned over him and placed your garment on the lounge next to him.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But his jaw clenched, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

Then, you turned around, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your leggings and looked over your shoulder to find him staring at your ass and licking his lips. Steve looked up at you, his blue eyes burning now as you smirked at him and peeled the black material down to reveal your flesh, in black lace, bent fully at the waist. 

Steve’s hands twitched for want of reaching out. He exhaled sharply, restraint hanging by a thread.

You straightened up slowly, twerking and slapping your own ass, holding a cheek so that he could see the lace-clothed split of you. You shot him a saucy wink as you stepped out of your clothing, pushing it aside with the tip of your toe before slowly running your hands down your body. 

You brought your hands up to your face, sliding them down your neck to your chest, then your sides, letting your fingers skim over your ribs, down your stomach, then back up, skirting along your bra and pulling your nipples through the fabric. 

Steve made a low sound in his throat, his control cracking.

It was just as he decided to reach out to touch you that you walked toward the pole on tip toes, the only way you knew how to do it. 

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.”

Steve cocked his head, grinning now.

“Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

He was proud that you seemed pleased. You smiled back at him in response, exhaling and letting the rhythm take you.

You started with a slow walk around the pole, each step deliberate, your hips swaying just enough to raise the temperature of his blood degree by degree. 

His smile dropped and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, his restraint evident in every rigid line of his body as his eyes followed your every move

You reached up, gripping the pole above your head, then lifted yourself effortlessly, letting momentum carry you into a slow spin. The world blurred for a moment, the mirrors reflecting your every movement as you let your legs extend, toes pointed, body fluid. 

The way you moved was unhurried, deliberate, and so alluring. Steve sighed and bent his head to the side, taking you in. Then he bit his lip, remembering how you felt around him earlier. You felt so fucking good, your sweet, hot pussy pulsing around him.

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

The way your muscles flexed and relaxed, the roll of your hips was mesmerizingly beautiful. You were performing your art for Steve, moving for his pleasure. 

But you were in control. 

And it made Steve remember that this is what it was that made him fall for you in the first place. Damn, he wanted you, and even though you were only steps away, it was driving him crazy. 

When you reached the floor, you dropped to your knees, your thighs spread, fingers skimming down your skin as you stared at him.

Steve rubbed his hands on his pants to ease the itch of his fingers wanting to grasp you.

You stood and grabbed the pole once more, swinging around in another smooth, effortless climb. You wrapped your legs around the metal, suspended for a moment, before twisting into an elegant descent, your body brushing against the pole in a way that made Steve’s balls ache.

When you landed, you moved toward him on tiptoe again, all legs and glistening body, hips swaying, eyes locked onto his.

Steve only moved to put his hands on the back of the lounge, but other than that he was still.

In a graceful move, you straddled him carefully, knees on either side of his slim hips. You were close enough for him to feel your warmth, but were barely touching him. The heat coming from your core made him feral and his eyes were drawn downward to the source.

You felt a tremendous power, so you reached for his chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. 

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know he liked that. but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

He covered a whimper by clearing his throat. A secret smile was on your lips as you slowly rolled your hips and arched your back, your nipples barely grazing his chest. 

Steve's eyes were everywhere, watching everything, especially your tits, which were so hard and beautiful through the lace.

He felt like if he could just to suck them for a minute, everything in the world would be alright.

A minute each. 

Maybe an hour.

Steve's breath was hot against your skin, but he still hadn’t touched you. His grip on the chaise tightened, his control hanging by a thread.

You ran your fingers down your body before leaning backward and grazing his thighs and it was just enough to plan out the pattern of his skeet along your skin. He was sure, with practice, he could spell out his name.

In one fluid movement, you turned around, pressing your back to his chest, and, lightly, so lightly, too lightly, ground against his rigid cock with slow, deliberate precision.

Steve felt delirious and close to expiring.

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.”

Married!

You looked over your shoulder at him and moved your lips close to his, smiling as you saw the muscles in his corded neck tense.  You leaned in, your lips hovering near his ear.

“You're so good for me Stevie… Such a good... big... boy.”

You twerked the last three words in his lap, causing him to exhale sharply and his hands to twitch. You arched, rolling your body against his again. 

And then.

Finally, finally, you let yourself sink into his lap, pressing fully against his cock. He could feel your moist pussy lips through layers of fabric.

And that’s when Steve’s restraint snapped.

His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard, his fingers digging into your skin. You leaned back and his lips found your shoulder, his breath uneven.

You smirked and turned around, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your touch.

Steve crashed his mouth to yours, swallowing your laughter in a kiss that was deep and desperate. His hands roamed your body, tracing lace, his need evident in every touch.

“My sweet Peach. Mrs. Rogers,” he growled against your skin, voice thick with hunger.

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make his head tilt back.

“Yesss. Say Heyyyy, Mrs. Rogers…,” you teased.

One hand clasped his throat, squeezing his Adam's apple lightly as his blue eyes shone from his slitted lids. Steve's cock pulsed in his pants, then he took a ragged breath before he spoke.

“Heyyyyyy. Mrs. Rogers...”

You rolled your hips against his impressive bulge as Steve’s baritone rumbled in your ear. As you reached for the hem of his shirt, he kissed you, grabbing the collar to take it off.

You looked at Steve appreciatively as you bent and licked one erect nipple, then wrapped your lips around the tiny button, pulling it into your mouth and eliciting a small groan from him. You took your time, enjoying his sounds which got louder and louder.

"Such a good boy making those pretty sounds for me, Stevie."

You licked, sucked and savored him as you alternated from one pec to the other.

“Wanna always be good for you, Peach...” 

Steve gritted it out as you grabbed him by the hair, pulling him into a filthy, long, deep kiss. He grabbed for you and held on as your mouth plundered his.

Then you pulled away.

“I have a question, Mr. Rogers,” you unclasped your bra, then leaned forward and stuffed your nipple into his mouth, moaning as he looked up at you with those clear blue eyes and sucked enthusiastically.

“How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?”

Steve chuckled and then got serious.

“Must be true love.”

You felt his cock pound between your legs and knew what had to happen. His fingernails scratched your thighs trying to hold on to you as you moved back to stand.

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

His erection sprung out and you licked your lips, ready to finally feel the smooth skin in your mouth.

"Touch yourself for me, Stevie."

Steve took himself in hand and started stroking from base to head, thumb swiping the drops of precum in passing. His burning gaze was on you but your eyes were glued to what was in his fist. 

“Fuck that’s hot… Wan’ taste you,” you were whining now, feeling deprived. 

“..Whatever you want.” Steve whispered in a strained voice after looking into those big, beautiful eyes.  

You ran your fingers over his thick dick all the way down to the heavy, tight balls. 

“So pretty…” 

You kept eye contact as you leaned in and gave him a long, wet lick from balls to head. Your tongue rolled over the soft skin of the large mushroom cap, taking in the dewey drops leaking from it.

You licked down the hard shaft, until you reached the base and ran your tongue over his large sac.

You began sucking on his tip, tonguing underneath, and humming around his head, causing Steve to murmur, “Fffeels so fucking good, Peach.”

He was carding his fingers through your hair as he said it.

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. 

This was a fucking beautiful man.

Steve’s big hands gathered your hair and held it, just tight enough to send a zing to your clit. 

“Peachhhhh, that mouth is good.”

Steve was in love with how you sucked him off. He rolled his hips and found out just how snug your throat really was. When you pulled off, tears were rolling down your face.

He wiped your tears away with his thumb. 

"Y' look so fucking pretty like this, Peach.”

The way you took him all when you deep throated him again sent the cum crawling up his balls. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Shit.”

You pulled off and released him with a filthy plop, watching as he desperately squeezed his cock at the base, trying to stop the impending explosion.

He reached out for you with his other hand and you climbed up onto his lap as he marveled at your messy hair, your bouncing tits, and fucked out expression.

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

The tip of his cock nudged your entrance, and you reached down and grabbed it, perfecting its position as you sank down on it.

You both watched in fascination as your pussy engulfed him preceded by the juices from your wet pussy. Steve’s hands grabbed onto your hips, and you wanted him to bruise you, to have a mark on you from this for days. 

Your head lolled back on your shoulders as you glided down on your Steve's, thick cock. He lifted you by your waist and alternated fucking you up and down his dick and thrusting into you, hitting angles he hadn't before.

His grunts and your moans were beautiful music.

“Please look at me, Peach.”

His tone was reverent and you couldn't help but obey. The sounds you two were making sent you right to the edge of a precipice.

“Oh… right…there… right fucking there!”

You keened as you scratched the skin on his shoulders and biceps. 

“Fucking me so good, Stevie…So righttt. N-need you to keep hitting it like that…give it to me just like that. All your cum. Inside me.”

He was hitting those bundles of nerves just right.

“You need it like that hunh? I'll give it to you until it drips out of you... Need it dripping down my gotdamn balls....”

And he proceeded to fuck up into you perfectly. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair and you leaned in for a filthy kiss. He gripped your throat and carefully squeezed to control your airflow. Your eyes began to roll and your cunt clenched down on him. Hard.

"Ffuckk, " He had to grit his teeth to keep from cumming. "Need you to fucking cum, Peach....."

“I- I’m close Stevieeee. Ahhh. Give it. Gonna have all your babies….”

Your pussy started clenching around him.

“Holy FUCK!”

Steve picked you up and placed you on the chaise, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he drilled into you. He slid a hand between you and rubbed your clit in soul-destroying circles.

“Drain these fucking balls...shhhhhitttttt!"

You clutched him close as you felt his cock start and continue to spurt hot cum inside you. As he softened, he sat back on his heels and spread your legs to watch his cum drip out of you. He trailed two fingertips down your sensitive slit and pushed it back inside you, all the while a sly grin on his face.

He caught your eye. 

“Can’t waste a drop.”

“You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.”

He laughed. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.” 

Steve grabbed his t-shirt to clean you both up a bit. Next thing you knew, you were being carried out of the studio and through to his master bedroom 

It was daylight when you were lightly snoring in his arms and Steve was grinning wide, his wife in his arms.

—

The next afternoon, you sat in front of the vanity in Bucky’s penthouse as the hired glam team worked around you and your cousin. The stylist meticulously worked with your hair while the makeup artist added the final sweep of highlighter across her cheekbones.

The two of you had been getting ready together for years, first as teenagers sneaking into her mother’s closet, and now as women preparing for an extravagant event in a high-rise overlooking Manhattan. But this afternoon was different.

Her eyes met yours in the mirror. You had just her the rundown of the day before, complete with the news that you and Steve were married. She’d been quiet for a while, but now it seemed she was ready to talk again.

“You’re really happy, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice soft but certain.

You blinked, then exhaled.

“Yes I am.”

“You and Steve are perfect for each other. "

She leaned over and grabbed your hand, grinning at you.

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.”

You grinned back.

“I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.”

You sighed. Your one regret.

“I know. But it was perfect. Just the two of us. We’ll have a party later on, though. And tonight, we’ll celebrate.”

You turned thoughtful.

“The way Steve loves me should terrify me. But it doesn’t.”

She studied you for a moment. 

“Because?”

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Your cousin smiled, tilting her head as the hairstylist and makeup artist switched and her hair was being fussed over. 

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..”

She laughed and you shook your head.

“Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

You took a sip of the mimosa that Bucky had brought in earlier. You thought what was about to happen for your cousin.

“Real talk. Bucky adores you, Cousin. And I know you. And I’m getting to know Bucky. This engagement and wedding are going to be events. Events, I say. You wouldn’t have it any other way. .You’re about to get some bling to match that jewelry you got on tonight in Vermont next week.” 

You two laughed together, the mood lighter now. 

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, cousin.”

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

As you finished up, the sound of deep voices and approaching footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door opened, and Bucky stepped in first, his navy tuxedo perfectly tailored, his gaze immediately softening when he saw your cousin. 

“Damn Frumoasă,” he murmured, taking her in with slow appreciation. 

“You’re making it real hard for me to let you out of this apartment tonight.”

She shot him a look.

“Smooth, Barnes,” she smirked at him. “Nice suit.”

“What? This old thing?”

Bucky smirked back as he took her hand and led her out of the room.

You rolled your eyes at them because you had the feeling they were being freaky, you just couldn’t prove it.

Steve walked in, ensconced in an impressively tailored dark tux, his presence commanding as always, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something in him shifted. 

You were wearing a short gold sequined gown that showcased your legs, and you felt like a princess. 

Like a wife.

His usual air of control wavered for a fraction of a second, his gaze dragging over you like he was memorizing every inch.

You arched that adorable brow at him, tilting your head. 

“No comment?”

Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. 

“You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky chuckled, clapping Steve on the shoulder. 

“Think you broke him, Peach. Congratulations, Mrs. Rogers.”

You grinned, gave Bucky a hug and reached for your clutch. 

Steve reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he murmured, “Hold on.”

You frowned slightly, watching as Bucky guided your cousin toward the door, leaving just the two of you in the room. Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out another small black velvet box.

Your breath caught, your heart skipping for just a second.

He popped the top, revealing a pair of dazzling double diamond drop earrings, the perfect complement to the moi et toi necklace resting against your collarbone and the ring on your finger. All you could do was look at them and then blink up at him.

“Steve…”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. 

“Thought you should match.”

You shook your head and laughed.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Steve lifted an earring, stepping close to help fasten it in place and his touch lingered.

“You say that now,” he murmured and then moved to the other side, his lips just a breath away from your skin.

“But you love it.”

You turned into his arms and looked into his eyes.

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.”

His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. 

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky cleared his throat from the doorway, breaking the moment. He was leaning against the frame, smirking. 

“Hate to interrupt, but Nico’s waiting. Unless you two want to skip the gala entirely.”

You rolled your eyes at the dark headed man and flipped him off.

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama."

"Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Steve exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he kissed your neck, producing a shiver. Then, lacing his fingers with yours, he led you toward the door.

—

The way the night was going seemed like a dream, arriving on Steve’s arm and watching the reactions. Some were surprised, but most just commented that you were such a handsome couple and gave congratulations.

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Steve hadn’t given her, or anyone else that matter, a second glance.

When the music started, Steve danced with you to all the tempos, even the Salsa when that genre was played. You had a time, and then you two went to the bar to get refreshments.

Sharon chose that moment to show her ass. You barely had a sip of your amaretto sour before she started on her bullshit.

“Steve,” she purred, looking up at him under her lashes and placing her hand on his forearm. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown.

“It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

Sharon ignored Steve’s tone and turned to you. 

“And you must be the entertainment. Nice dress. Is it easy to take off?”

The words sounded sweet as honey, but you heard the venom underneath. 

“I guess congratulations are in order? I hear you two ran off and got married. I guess that's a choice. It’s probably refreshing, going from someone like Peggy to someone like…Peaches..”

“It’s Peach,” you replied. 

The bitch was silent.

Sharon’s gaze flicked to your ring, then your jewelry, then down the length of your gown. 

“Although you do wear luxury well. Tell me, how does it feel knowing it’s all borrowed? That he’s probably going to dump you tomorrow. Get an annulment and leave your ass in the gutter strip club where he found you.”

You could feel the heat of Steve’s fury at your side, his body tensing like he was about to snap.

Your mouth opened to reply, but your cousin stepped up, anger rolling off of her body.

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

She lowered her voice.

“And like a cable, we jump hoes.”

The air around you shifted, and a few party-goers slowed their conversations to listen.

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that in a negative way.” Sharon simpered. “It’s just the truth.”

Sharon looked between you and Steve.

“You are nothing but negative. You don’t have to worry about my marriage. Or your endowment anymore, Sharon.”

Steve spoke to her, his eyes blazing blue.

You smiled at your man, then took a slow step forward, closing the space between you, lowering your voice just enough that only Sharon, and Steve, could hear.

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” 

Your voice was strong and steady.

“I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?” 

You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly.

“You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.”

You leaned in even closer.

“The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” 

You smiled at her sweetly.

“And he follows.”

The moment the words left your lips, Steve did exactly that. 

As he left her in her feelings,  Steve tossed a comment over his shoulder.

“You just got your ass handed to you in front of half the room,” he mused. 

“I’d cut my losses and walk away.”

One of the staffers turned up at that moment. 

“This way, Ms. Carter. I’ll be escorting you out.”

The four of you watched as she turned red and huffed and puffed on her way out of the door. After everyone around you went back to minding their own business, your cousin hugged you hard.

“I love you. That was perfection.”

You hugged her back. 

“Thank you, Boo.”

You released her as Bucky handed her earrings back and Steve looked at you with admiration in his eyes. 

“You handled that well.”

You smirked. “I know.”

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.”

Your cousin groaned dramatically.

 “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Bucky grabbed a bottle of Moet from the table display.

“A toast. To Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers!”

Your husband looked at you with a smile. You don’t know what was coming your way as Steve's wife, but you knew it wouldn’t be boring.

[sansaaaaaagirl]

Charles Leclerc, it's Valentin

---Charles is that type of guy

The kind who seems serious, not very social, maybe even a little arrogant. You might think he’s a complete show-off, maybe even a little insufferable. But trust me—he’s not.

When I say he’s not, I mean Charles is different. In private, he’s a carefully sweet kind of man. The kind who hides his affection behind playful annoyance, who teases more than he compliments, but when he does, oh—when he does—it lingers in your mind for days.

Oh, come on, girl. He’s that guy. The kind who, if you ignore him for a few hours, will text you:

'Are you breaking up with me?"

And no, of course, you’re not. You just needed a moment alone, some space to breathe. But Charles? He’s a golden retriever in search of love.

Your love.

He’s also that guy who, on Valentine’s Day, won’t even text you “Happy Valentine’s.” Not because he forgot. Not because he doesn’t care. But because to him, you’re worth more than just a simple message.

Picture this:

You’re lying on your couch, wrapped in a blanket, peacefully scrolling through your phone. It’s February 13th. The clock reads 11:40 PM. You’ve been waiting, anticipation buzzing in your veins, wondering what your very real, very charming boyfriend has planned for you at midnight.

But Charles isn’t here. He’s in Monaco, finalizing preparations for the upcoming season—photo shoots, interviews, an overloaded schedule that keeps pulling him away.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Until a sudden knock on your door disrupts your thoughts.

"Miss Leclerc?"

Miss Leclerc?

You’re not married to him. Hell, you’re not even engaged. He doesn’t take things that seriously, right? This is moving too fast. But… well, there’s no other Miss Leclerc in your house.

"Yes?"

"This package is for you."

You take the package, thank the delivery man, and close the door behind you. It’s just a regular box, nothing out of the ordinary. You assume it’s something Charles ordered under your name, just another package.

At least… that’s what you think.

Of course! Here's the continuation of the story:

---

You place the box on the coffee table, eyeing it with mild curiosity but no real urgency. Maybe it’s something Charles forgot to mention, something unimportant.

Still, something in you hesitates.

You reach for the tape, tearing it open with careful fingers. Inside, there’s another box—sleek, black, with the golden embossed initials CL.

Your heartbeat stumbles.

Lifting the lid, you find a neatly folded piece of paper resting on top of delicate red tissue paper. His handwriting—messy, rushed, undeniably his—stares back at you.

"You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Valentine’s alone, did you?"

Your lips curve into an involuntary smile.

You push aside the tissue paper to reveal what’s underneath—a deep red dress, smooth and silky beneath your fingertips. It’s stunning, effortlessly elegant, and unmistakably you.

Tucked beneath the fabric is something else. A plane ticket.

One-way. Monaco.

Your breath catches.

Your phone buzzes.

Charles: Open the door.

Your head snaps up, pulse hammering. There’s no way—no way—

Another knock.

This time, you don’t hesitate. You rush to the door, flinging it open. And there he is.

Charles Leclerc. Standing in your doorway, slightly breathless, dressed in his usual effortlessly put-together way, hair tousled from travel, holding a bouquet of white roses in one hand and a ridiculous, lopsided grin on his face.

"Happy almost Valentine’s, chérie."

You stare at him, speechless. He should be in Monaco. He *was* in Monaco.

"You—"

"I caught an earlier flight," he interrupts, stepping closer, tilting his head slightly as he watches your expression. "You thought I’d really let a package be my grand romantic gesture?"

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You’re impossible."

His grin widens. "And yet, you love me."

You roll your eyes, but he’s already pulling you into his arms, his familiar scent washing over you, his touch warm, grounding.

And just like that, your Valentine’s Day begins twelve minutes early.

[thebigbadbatswife]

I Don't Know How It Gets Better Than This

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader Stay Like This Forever Masterlist

Warnings - 18+ ONLY, Explicit sexual content, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Multiple orgasms, Porn with feelings, Elements of Soft Dom!Bruce Wayne and praise kink, Established relationship, Older man/Younger woman, Age Gap, Tooth-rotting fluff, Humour, Valentine's Day

Summary - Bruce surprises you the best Valentine’s Day you’ve ever had.

A/N - A day late, but it's here! As promised! Also, as with all fics within this 'verse, this is a complete stand alone and doesn't require any thing else to be read to be enjoyed <3

Word Count - 4.7k

You frown as you get into the back of the car that’s waiting for you, just outside of the airport. Your eyes are glued to the bright screen of your phone as you fumble with the seatbelt. 

It’s been ten hours since your last text to Bruce and he hasn’t even read it yet. 

Is he upset with you? It’s your first Valentines as a couple and you haven’t been able to spend the day together because work has kept you away. It’s a couple hours from midnight now and you have only just got back to Gotham. 

Should you call him? Not replying to your text is very out of character of Bruce. Even when he’s been upset in the past, he’s always been upfront about it with you about it. For him to suddenly change… 

Something else is going on, so you decide that you are going to give him a call. The line doesn’t even ring. Instead you’re sent directly to his voicemail. 

Now you are starting to get worried about him.

“Everything alright, Miss…?” your driver, Tom, asks you. He’s been your driver for the longest time and he’s one of the few people that you know you can trust. 

“Bruce hasn’t replied to my text and his phone went straight to voicemail,” you reply.

“Shall I drive you to Wayne Manor instead?” 

You shake your head as you scroll through your contact list. “No, my apartment is fine. I’m going to call Alfred. He might know what’s going on.”

“Of course.” 

You bring your phone back up to your ear as the line rings. Unconsciously, your leg starts to bounce as you wait for an answer. After the third ring, someone picks up the phone.

“Hello?” Alfred’s voice comes over the phone.

“Alfred! Thank goodness, I’m so sorry. I know it’s really late. I just. Bruce, he isn’t answering my texts and his phone went straight to voicemail.”

“Master Bruce left the Manor a few hours ago. Oh my, it would seem that he’s left his phone here.”

You laugh softly, relief rushing through you. “Of course he has. Okay, that’s good to know. Get him to call me when you see him next?” 

“I will see that he does. Have a good night Miss…” 

“Goodnight Alfred.”

You set your phone into your lap and sigh. He’s not upset with you, like you had been panicking about. He just forgot about his phone. Though it isn’t like him to be so absentminded. You remember him mentioning being concerned about a killer by the name of Calendar Man, but Alfred hadn’t mentioned Bruce going out tonight in his cape and cowl. And you’re sure that he would have. 

What was he doing tonight?

As the car drives through the streets of Gotham, you find your gaze focusing on the rooftops. Ever since you figured out what it is that your boyfriend does at night, you find your focus often drawn above you. Wondering if you’ll catch a glimpse of him. 

The drive from the airport to your apartment isn’t super long, thankfully. Before you know it, you’re climbing out of the car, accepting your bag from Tom and thanking him and making your way up to your apartment.

When you open the door to your apartment the first thing that you notice is the rose petals on the floor. The next thing you notice is all of the candles, casting a golden glow over your home. 

The biggest smile that you’ve ever had makes its way onto your face as you take in the sight of what Bruce has done. It’s no wonder to you now why he forgot about his phone. He was busy setting all of this up for you. 

You shut the door behind you, making sure to lock and chain it, and set your bag down onto the floor, alongside your suitcase.

Following the rose petals, they lead you to the dining room. The table is set. There’s a single flower vase with a red rose sitting inside of it and two empty wine glasses, waiting to be filled. The bottle of wine that sits next to them looks like it might have some dust on it, but it’s hard to tell in the candlelight. 

In the centre of it all, standing there and waiting for you, is Bruce. Looking like the picture of perfection. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says as he approaches you. His hand comes to rest on your hip as he pulls you toward him, which you protest against.

“Don’t! I need a shower; I’m all gross from the plane,” you complain as you push against him.

He chuckles softly. “I don’t care. I want to kiss my girl.” 

You give in and let him pull you flush against his body. He kisses you in that soft and sweet way that always sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach as your heart skips. You grip his suit jacket as you kiss him back. Your tongue gently prods at his bottom lip, seeking more from him, which Bruce gladly gives you. 

You pull away first, your smile immediately returning.  “You didn’t have to do all this, baby,” you say softly.

“Of course I did. You deserve to have a nice Valentines,” he replies. 

His words shouldn’t hit like they do, but you can feel yourself getting choked up. You haven’t had a great track record when it comes to past relationships. Something that Bruce keeps doing his best to make up for. Hiding your face away from him, you halfheartedly shove against his chest again.

“Stop, you’re going to make me cry.”

Bruce’s arms wrap around you, hugging you tightly. “So long as they’re happy tears. That’s all I’m going to accept tonight.”

You laugh and you look up at him. Now he’s looking at you in that way that sends your heart haywire, warmth blooming in your chest. His thumb swipes away a tear that’s slowly making its way down your cheek.

“Dinner still needs a little bit longer, so why don’t you go and take that shower?”

“Okay.” 

He gives you one more kiss, drawing a soft noise from you before he finally lets you go. You pause when you reach the doorway and look back at him. There is one thing that has been nagging at you ever since you walked through the door and saw the petals.

“How’d you know that I would be back in time?” 

He shrugs. “Because I’m Batman.”

You shake your head and laugh. “That’s the answer you’re really going for?”

“It hasn’t failed me yet. Now, go, shower! Or dinner will be ready and cold before you get out.”

“Alright, alright! I’m going!” 

The hot water feels great as it cascades over your body. After the long day that you’ve had, it’s very much needed. A part of you almost expects Bruce to join you, but you’re not disappointed when he doesn’t. You’d prefer that he keeps his eyes on dinner and not burn your apartment down because he’s busy having sex with you.

Besides, you’re sure that there will be plenty of that after dinner. 

You switch the water off and wrap a towel around your body. When you enter your bedroom, you find a dress laid out on your bed, waiting for you. It’s in your favourite colour and there’s a matching set of heels, sitting in an opened shoe box. As well as that there’s a couple of velvet jewellery cases. 

He didn’t. 

You pick up the smaller case and open it. Inside are a pair of diamond and sapphire earrings. You’re already sure that, in the bigger case, is a matching necklace. 

Even though you’ve told him he doesn’t have to, Bruce does love to buy you gifts. Though, if this is what he’s buying you for Valentine’s Day, you can’t imagine what he might do for your birthday.

Once you’re dry and dressed, you look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup doesn’t do your outfit justice. It’s simpler than what you would have normally done, but you don’t have the time right now. 

A delicious scent is wafting into your bedroom, from the kitchen, and it’s making your stomach growl. 

If Bruce notices your toned down makeup, he doesn’t say a thing as you re-enter the dining room. His eyes take in the sight of you as he swallows thickly. Honestly, you’re convinced you could walk in wearing a burlap sack and he would still look at you the exact same way.

He gets up from his seat and walks over to you again.

“Look at you. Absolutely beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to buy me all of this.”

“I know, but you deserve to be spoiled. And I will take every chance I get to do exactly that.” 

The moment is completely ruined by your stomach as it growls. Bruce chuckles and starts to lead you toward the table.

“Come on, I made your favourite.”

Once you’ve taken a seat, he pushes your chair in before taking his own seat. Your table isn’t huge like the one back at Wayne Manor. So you’re not miles from each other as he sits opposite of you. In fact, his knee presses against your own. 

The food looks amazing. The smell alone making your mouth watering as your stomach growls again. You tuck in immediately. Just as the first bite passes your lips, a moan leaves you. 

It tastes incredible. Of course, you expect nothing less from Bruce. He’s an excellent cook, when he has the time to dedicate to it. That being one of the things you learned early on, after the first night you had spent together.

The conversation between you two consists of Bruce asking about your day. Which you enthusiastically tell him about your new castmates and the script and how, for the first time in a long time, you’re actually excited about acting again. While you ask him about his biggest worry that he had mention, to which he tells you that Julian Day was caught earlier by the police. And both Arkham and Blackgate are quiet so there’s no worry about the Bat Signal pulling him away. 

He’s all yours.

When dinner’s finished, and you’ve got a couple of glasses of wine in your system, you decide to skip desert. Right now, all you want is Bruce.

From the dining room, you and Bruce move to the living room. Where he’s settled on the sofa with you straddling his lap as you make out. His tongue slides across your own, exploring every inch of your mouth. Meanwhile his hands remain high up on your waist, making no move to feel you up like you want him to.

It makes no sense to you considering that you can feel how hard he is. Even the smallest shift from you has him twitching in his pants. You decide to take things into your own hands.

From where your arms are wrapped around his neck, you slide a hand down his front, headed straight for his pants. Just before your finger tips come into contact with his belt, his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Am I not moving fast enough for you, princess?” he asks. The nickname sends a shiver down your spine, your body remembering all the things he’s done with you, and to you, after using it. 

You shake your head. “Not even close, babe.”

“I don’t want to rush things. Besides, I love kissing you and I haven’t been able to do it enough these last few weeks.” 

His words are sweet, making your cheeks heat up and warmth bloom throughout your body that isn’t due to the alcohol in your veins or your growing arousal. You kiss his jawline, following it toward his ear.

“There are other parts of me you can kiss, you know,” you whisper. 

“All in good time, sweet girl.”

Bruce directs your face back toward him so that he can resume kissing you. The hand that had hold of your wrist is now on the back of your back, keeping you right where he wants you. Meanwhile, the hand that’s on your waist starts to move away.

His hand slides down your side, coming down to rest on your thigh. Which he squeezes gently. As his tongue reenters your mouth, Bruce’s fingers slide beneath your dress, trailing up the inside of your thigh. All of your focus is now on his hand. The feeling of his calloused finger tips against your soft, smooth skin sends goosebumps erupting across your skin. 

The closer he gets to where you want him most, the more you start to ache with need. Just before he reaches your panties, he starts to move away again, trailing his fingers back toward your knee.

You whine against his lips, frustration starting to build up inside of you. He was so close! So close to finally giving you what you wanted! Why’d he stop? Bruce simply smirks as he continues to run his fingers up and down your leg.

“You’re very needy tonight, princess,” he coos. “I’d better fix that, huh?”

“Please,” you whine.

Bruce shushes you softly. His fingers trail back up your legs, dragging them slowly along the inside of your leg. 

His touch remains featherlight, but your body still jolts when he finally pushes his fingers against your panties. Right where your clitoris is. Gently, he starts to rub you through the soaked fabric.

Even the lightest touch feels amazing, pleasure already thrumming through you. Your lips part as a breathy moan of his name leaves you.

“No wonder you’re so needy. You’re absolutely soaked, sweetheart.”

“It’s your fault,” you tell him. “You make me like this.”

He hums and nods in agreement. “I had better look after you then, hmmm?”

“Please.”

You expect him to either slide your panties to the side or rip them off of you completely, but he does neither. Instead he keeps touching you through them. The only thing he changes is that he starts to use his thumb instead of his fingers.

He kisses you again as he rubs circles against your clit, swallowing your moans. His free hand comes up from your waist and upwards to cup and grope your breasts through your dress. 

You roll your hips, chasing after your pleasure that’s building up way faster than you thought that it would. But it’s really no wonder with how well Bruce knows your body. Knowing exactly how to touch you, both the pressure and speed needed to get you to your climax.

“Fuck,” you gasp. There’s no doubt in your mind that, with how quickly you’re approaching your end, that it’s feeding his ego. 

“You going to be a good girl and come for me?” he asks. He applies some more pressure, his rubbing becoming more insistent. 

Your breath is now coming out in short puffs as you can feel the tension coiling inside of you more and more. You’re so close. So fucking close, if he just keeps touching you like that… 

Your fingers grip his suit jacket like it’s your lifeline as your body shakes. Bruce talks you through it. His words filled with encouragement and praise as your orgasm rocks through you. 

Just as it starts to become way too much for you, he pulls his hand away. Your forehead comes to rest against his shoulder, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. He rubs your leg. Pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck and cheek, as you come down. 

“Always such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

You make a soft noise of agreement as your eyes close for a moment. Enjoying the feeling of the random patterns being traced and his lips on your skin. 

As your breathing calms down, you turn your head and capture his lips with your own again. At the same time, your hand trails back down his body. Following the exact same path as earlier.

He doesn’t stop you this time. You press your hand against the tent in his pants. A low groan leaves Bruce as you touch him. The sound making your pussy clench around nothing, sending another wave of arousal through you. 

Fuck, you need him inside of you.

“I think we should move this to the bedroom,” you suggest, pulling away. 

His eyes are dark, that steely blue of his iris a thin line against his pupil. While there is a light blush across his cheeks, which stands out a fair bit against his pale skin. 

“Definitely.”

Once he’s made sure your grip on him is secure, he stands up, bringing you with him. As he carries you toward the bedroom, you press kisses to his jaw and neck. Even going as far as to gently bite and suck on his neck, leaving behind a few lovebites in your wake. 

They’re in a rather visible spot, unless he wears a turtleneck. He, honestly, might just end up covering it up with the same makeup he uses to cover up the worst of the bruises he earns each night as Batman. Deep down, you hope that he doesn’t. You want him to show them off. Remind everyone that he’s all yours. 

Though, with how the media continues talking about you both, they likely don’t need it.

When you get to the bedroom, he sets you down. His hand quickly locates the zipper for your dress and, very slowly, he starts to pull it down. The action surprises you. You had expected him to rip it from you like he’s done to every other dress that he’s previously bought you. Bruce chuckles. 

“I love the way this dress looks on you far too much to ruin it just yet,” he says.

“Oh, I see. So I only get to keep dresses based on how you feel about them?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Do you want me to ruin it?”

“No! I’m just in mourning over the other ones.”

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as they shine with amusement. He kisses the tip of your nose. “I will buy a replacement for each one I’ve ruined, okay? Now, come on.”

With your dress fully unzipped, he eases it off of your shoulders and lets it fall into a pile on the floor, around your feet. He helps you step out of it and pushes you back toward the bed.

“Lay down,” he instructs you. 

You dutifully follow his order, settling down onto the bed. As you get comfortable, Bruce strips himself of his suit jacket and shirt. You drag your eyes down his body. Appreciating how well toned his body is. The scars that litter his body add to his sexiness.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases you. 

“Only fair considering you keep ogling my boobs,” you reply. The entire time he’s been undressing his top half, his eyes have kept glancing over, landing on your chest more often than not. Not that you mind. You like it when he’s ogling your body. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t have some fun. 

“Well, I know your name now.”

His reply makes you shake your head as it prompts the memory of the night you first met him. Your dress had been completely scandalous that night, yet he had not looked at your chest once; claiming that doing so would be rude since he didn’t even know your name.

You cross your arms over your boobs, hiding them from his view, pretending to be annoyed with him. 

“That’s it. No more boobs for you.” 

Bruce chuckles as he shakes his head. He comes over to the bed and climbs onto the bed, draping his body over yours as he settles between your legs. He nuzzles his face against your neck. His kisses turn into light bites as he trails them down your skin. 

He nibbles at your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine and making it really hard to keep your act up. When he reaches where your arms are still crossed against your chest, he kisses along the length of one of your forearms before pulling away. 

Supporting himself with one hand, he uses the other to gently pry your arms apart. You don’t do anything to fight him on it, letting him open your arms and reveal your breasts to him again.

“There you are.”

He litters your chest with kisses and lovebites. Starting at the top of one and trailing his way to the underside. His bites turn into licks as he gets closer to your nipple. Bruce swirls his tongue around the hardened bud before finally taking it into his mouth and starts to suck. 

You arch your back into his touch, a short gasp, bordering on a moan, leaving you. Like the tentative boyfriend that he is, he doesn’t neglect your other breast, using his free hand to squeeze and play with it. He lavishes your chest in affection. Kissing, biting and licking his way to the other. Where he repeats his actions. 

“Bruce,” you moan softly as you run your fingers through his hair, messing it up. You shift your hips beneath him, grinding against his cock. Your actions draw a deep groan from him and he rocks his hips into yours. Letting you know that two can play at that game.

He only stops so that he can trail his kisses down your body, past your naval and toward your truly soaked panties. He presses a firm kiss to your clit through the fabric, making you sharply inhale. Bruce doesn’t stop there. Instead he kisses and bites the inside of both of your thighs.

You love the sight of him between your legs. Whether it’s him eating you out or kissing where your thighs are most sensitive. His hair messy and pupils blown wide. Even better if his chin and mouth is shiny with your slick. It’s one of the best sights in the world to you. You wouldn’t mind keeping him there forever.

Deft fingers undo the buckles of your heels before sliding them off of your feet and letting them fall to the floor with a thud. As soon as they’re gone, your panties quickly follow as Bruce rips the fabric, as if it’s paper, and gets rid of them. You don’t care. Anything is good as long as it gets him inside of you faster. The longer that he draws this out, the more desperate that you are starting to become.

The ache between your legs is becoming unbearable as your clitoris throbs, begging for more attention from him. You want, no, you need him inside of you. You need to feel him stretching you open as he fills you up, making you feel impossible full.

“Brucie?” you call softly. He looks up at you from where he’s been drinking in the sight of the mess that your arousal and earlier orgasm have made of you. 

“Yes, princess?” 

“I need to feel you inside of me. Please? Please, fuck me?” 

You don’t even need to beg him for it. The way that he’s looking at you and how hard his cock feels against you. He was likely about to make a move to finally start fucking you to begin with. You just begged before he could make that move. 

With a speed that would be impressive if he wasn’t Batman, Bruce removes the rest of his clothing. He drapes his body back over yours, lining himself up with your entrance. 

There was a time when you used to be nervous about his size; he’s the biggest you’ve ever had after all. Now though? Now you wrap a leg around his waist and pull him down for another kiss as he starts to slowly slide into you.

You’re so wet that he easily enters you, bottoming out immediately. He feels absolutely amazing. Stretching your pussy and filling you up exactly the way that you want him to. Your head falls backwards, onto the pillow, as you moan.

“That feels better, doesn’t it, princess?” he coos softly. He’s stilled, letting you adjust to his size, like he always does. 

“Yes,” you reply, along with a nod. It really does. It’s insane how good he makes you feel.

As soon as you give him the go ahead to move, he does. Slowly he pulls out of you, leaving only the tip inside, before pushing back in. Each time he makes sure he’s hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you, drawing more moans from you.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let me hear you,” he murmurs. He’s back to nuzzling and kissing your neck and jaw.

You could stay here, in this moment, forever. Your  bodies tangled up together, joined as one. Bruce slowly fucking you as his fingers played with your clit. 

Tonight has been something like you might read in some romance novel or see in some movie. At the same time they all paled in comparison. The real thing always being better.

Bringing your hands to his shoulders and push lightly. If Bruce didn’t want to move, he wouldn’t, but he follows your lead. Flipping your positions so that you are now on top. 

A deep groan leaves him as you start to bounce on his cock, your hands flat against his chest to support yourself. His hands are on your thighs, stroking them with his thumbs as he watches you ride him.

“Look at you. You look absolutely amazing sweetheart.” His voice sounds strained as he speaks. Much like earlier, his eyes are trained on your boobs, which bounce with each roll of your hips, along with the jewels around your neck. “You always look so good riding my cock.”

You laugh softly, which quickly turns into a moan. You can feel yourself getting close again. Your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his cock while the coil inside of you grows tighter and tighter. Bruce is getting close as well. While before he was holding back his moans, wanting to hear you instead, he’s growing more vocal as he starts to thrust up into you.

His thumb returns to your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge. You cry his name as your pussy clamps down onto him. Bruce falls over that edge with you, the way your squeezing him making it impossible for him not to, and he comes deep inside of you.

Boneless and spent, it’s easy for him to get you to lay on his chest. Both of you panting hard and becoming the only sound that can now be heard in the bedroom.

The feeling of him running random patterns against your back and the steady beating of his heart in your ear, soothes you. Almost sending you straight to sleep. It is rather late at night and you were previously on a long flight. You’re tired.

Before you can, you pull away from Bruce, muttering that you need the bathroom when he goes to stop you.

While you're in there, you make sure to remove your makeup and the expensive jewels he bought you, settling them back into their cases.

When you’ve finished up and re-enter the bedroom you come back to Bruce waiting for you with a glass of water and a slice of the cheesecake that had originally been for desert.

Grateful, you accept the glass and take a sip, before settling onto his lap like he wants you to. Bruce offers you a bite of the cheesecake which, again, you accept, groaning at the rich taste of it.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks you, as if the answer isn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

“Tonight was perfect, Bruce. Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl,” he tells you. The kiss is soft and sweet; you smile into it. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” 

There really aren’t enough words in the world for you to describe or tell him how much you love him. Something tells you that it’s the same for him as well.

The cheesecake slice is shared between the two of you. He continues to feed you each bite. Once the plate is empty, he sets it down the nightstand. Bruce moves you both down the bed, getting you settled against his chest and pulls the covers up over you both.

You snuggle against him, your focus returning to his heartbeat as you let your eyes close this time and fall fast asleep, in the arms of your lover.

You don’t know how life can get much better than this.

[peepawispunk]

The Last First Date

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Reader

Summary: You agree to a blind date on Valentine’s Day, hoping it will make your friend relent and stop setting you up. Your expectations for a forgettable night couldn't be more wrong.

Rating: E

Warnings/tags: unprotected sex, thigh riding, Javi Gutierrez talks you through it, enthusiastic consent, creampie, drug use and drinking

3.1K

Happy Valentines Day to @80ssong who was my recipient for the Valentine’s exchange!

My masterlist

A blind date on Valentine’s Day had to be the worst idea you’d ever heard, and you’d told your friend so when she’d begged to set you up with someone. 

“Cmon, it’s been fucking ages since you dumped Derek the Dick. I promise you, this guy is worth the effort.”

“I don’t know.” You pulled a face. “A blind date on Valentine’s? There’s so much pressure on that.”

“Girl, you’re overthinking this. Just trust me on this, this guy is 100% your type. If you don’t like him I’ll never ask to set you up again.” 

“Fine. But if he sucks, you owe me big time.” 

“Trust me, he doesn’t.” She’d said with an air of certainty that almost reassured you. 

-

So here you were, on February 14th, wearing your best “date” outfit. The colour was your favourite, and you’d even had your nails done to complement it. Some lingerie worn underneath added to your confidence, but that was just for you. There was no way you were going to sleep with this guy tonight - the last blind date you’d been set up on was a disaster from start to finish, and you had little faith that tonight would be any different. You’d accepted the setup when your friend had pushed the point, but only so you could agree that this was the last time you’d let her set you up. 

This guy seemed so excited about planning the perfect Valentine’s date when you were texting him to plan your evening, offering up a few different ideas for things you could do. It was kinda cute; you’d never seen a guy put so much effort into planning a date before, and you hadn’t even met the guy yet.

The bar was literally on the floor with guys these days, though…

You’d settled on a screening of Dirty Dancing at the rooftop cinema near Hollywood Hills, and your date had told you he’d take care of the booking for it. The movie choice had surprised you, but you weren’t complaining - it was one of your favourites. 

You told him you’d text him when you got there so you could find each other. He’d let you know that he’d be wearing dark green, but with how busy it would be there tonight you’d agreed that it would just be easier to find each other when you got there. 

You stepped out of the Uber, pulling your cardigan around you as the chill hit your skin. You moved towards the entrance of the building, pulling your phone out of your purse to text your date. 

Hey, just got here. I’m near the entrance.

You locked the screen, looking around to see if you could spot anyone in green.

A young guy wearing a lime green pair of jeans… hopefully not.

A woman wearing an emerald coloured maxi dress… definitely not, unless there had been a huge miscommunication.

A man stood near the door, wearing black slacks and a dark green button down, a dark jacket draped over his forearm… you could only be so lucky. His hair was dark and fell in soft looking curls, the shade matching his dark eyes. He had a nose that could make a roman statue jealous. He was looking around, much the same as you. 

Must be looking for his partner. No guy that looked like that stayed single for long. 

His eyes met yours for a moment, and you felt your skin heat, looking away. You should be looking for your date, not checking out this stranger. 

You looked down at your phone again, finding a new message. 

Hi. I’m by the door. I’m wearing a green shirt and black pants.

You looked up, meeting the man’s eyes again. 

No fucking way. 

No one else matching that outfit description was nearby. Your date must be this man. You lifted a hand in an awkward wave, and his eyes lit up, a smile stretching across his face.

You started walking towards him, and he headed to you, meeting you in the middle. 

“Hi! Are you Ella’s friend by any chance?” He asked, voice warm yet hesitant.

“I am,” You say happily, free to admire him a little more now you knew that he was your date. You tell him your name.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I am Javi.” He introduced himself. You walked together to the terrace, taking in the view and exchanging small talk to get to know each other.

“I hope you don’t mind - I booked the loveseat option. It seemed like the most comfortable seating.” He explained, and you shook your head, smiling. 

“Not at all! That sounds perfect.” 

“Good, that’s good… Would you like to get a drink?” 

“Sure.” 

You lined up together at the bar, getting a round of spicy margaritas, finding a table near an outdoor heater to chase away the chill of the evening. 

“Have you seen the movie before?” You asked, sipping at your marg and watching Javi across the table as he tried his drink. 

“This is delicious,” he said, his lips curling into a smile as he savoured tha taste. “Sorry, yes, I have. It’s actually one of my favourite movies. I’m a bit of a movie fan.” He admitted with a wry grin. 

“No way, it��s one of my favourites too! It’s practically a comfort movie for me at this point.” You were pleasantly surprised that he valued a romance movie - in your experience, men usually treated romance like a lesser, “female” genre. It was refreshing.

“Oh, me too.” He admitted conspiratorially. “They don’t make romance movies like this anymore.” 

“They really don’t,” You agreed, “I haven’t seen a good romance or romantic comedy in years. It’s like Hollywood collectively decided it wasn’t worth trying anymore. I wish someone would write one like the classics again.” 

Javi nodded in agreement. “Exactly! The whole genre has been reduced to those made-for-Netflix movies, it’s lost something.”

You nodded in agreement, enjoying his passion for the topic, and you wondered suddenly if he was in the film industry or just a big movie fan like he’d said.

You sat in comfortable silence with each other for a moment, each sipping at your drinks and making fleeting eye contact. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” You asked.

“Uh, actually, I’m a writer.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! What kind of writing?” 

“Screenplays, actually.” 

Your suspicion was right, then. 

“Well then, maybe you can write the next big romance.” You said, making him grin. 

“Not a bad idea,” He agreed. “What is it that you do for a living?”

You told him what your work situation looked like currently, and what you’d studied, which led to you both discussing your goals and plans. You found that you had a lot in common. When you asked Javi if he’d written any screenplays you might know, he confessed that he wrote Nic Cage’s last big blockbuster.

“No fucking way, that was you? I loved that movie!” 

“Oh, thankyou,” he held a hand to his chest in sincerity. “It was a lot of fun to write. Nic and I are great friends now, and the movie is actually a retelling of how we met.” 

“But the movie is wild!” 

“Yes, it was an eventful week.” Javi said wryly, finishing his margarita. “Shall we get another drink and then find our seat? The movie will be starting soon.” 

“Sure, but I’m going to need you to tell that story later.”

Javi grinned, promising he would, his hand finding the small of your back as you headed to the bar. This time you ordered some warm mulled wine to help keep you warm, taking your drinks with you to the theatre area. 

The theatre was open air, on the rooftop of the building, a large projector screen set against the backdrop of the city lights. Outdoor heaters were evenly spaced around the seating, and there were stacks of blankets and cushions available at the end of each aisle. 

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here.” You admitted, taking it all in. “This is so cool.” 

“It’s actually my first time here too, a friend recommended it to me.” Javi said, grabbing a blanket with his free hand as you both headed to your seat. He hesitated for a moment, standing by the stack, gesturing to the pile in askance. “Would you like your own or would you like to share one?” 

“I’m fine to share if you are.” You said, a flirtatious smile pulling at your lips. To be honest, you’d be a little disappointed if he didn’t want to share. You were looking forward to a reason to be closer to him. 

“Definitely.” He smiled, setting his drink down on the side table to unfold the blanket. 

Soon, you were both tucked under the blanket on the loveseat, sipping at the mulled wine and waiting for the movie to start. 

The movie started playing, and you felt yourself relax into the seat. “God I love the soundtrack for this movie.” 

“You like the classics? Me too!” 

“They just hit different.”

“I get exactly what you mean.” 

You settled in to watch the movie together. Javi wasn’t big on talking during the movie, which suited you just fine - you hated when people talked during movies, especially in a cinema. 

Javi was attentive, though. He noticed when you were getting cold, offering for you to come closer and share his warmth, lifting his arm in invitation, careful not to let the cold air under the blanket. 

You took him up on it immediately, scooting closer, and he slung a warm arm over your shoulder, holding you to his side. He smelled so good, and the feel of his warm, solid body against yours was making it hard for you to pay attention to the movie. At least you’d seen it enough to know it by heart anyway. 

“Is that better?” He murmured quietly into your hair, and your skin tingled, a trail of warmth buzzing down your spine.

“Much.” You smiled up at him, longing to press a kiss to his jaw, and digging your fingernails into your leg to rein the urge in. 

----

You walked to the parking lot together, hand in hand, giggling like teenagers as you passed his vape pen back and forth. He’d invited you back to his place to watch another movie, and it was probably a line, but you found you didn’t mind at all. He’d texted his driver (he had a driver?!) to let them know that he was ready to be picked up, and you’d decided to wait outside together, away from the crowd near the building. 

He’d long since draped his coat over your shoulders, despite your protests that he’d be cold without it. “Not to worry, cariño,” He’d reassured you with a cheeky wink. “I run hot.” 

When the car arrived, you’d been happy to realise that it wasn’t a limo, just a large SUV. Javi was obviously wealthy, you’d gleaned that much since you met him, but it showed in the quality of his clothing and accessories, it wasn’t something he was flaunting tackily. 

He held the door open for you, making sure you were comfortably inside before closing it for you and rounding to the other side. He greeted his driver warmly, instructing them to head back to his house, which he’d told you wasn’t too far away. 

When you got back to his house, he led you to a room with soft, comfortable couches and a small bar. You made some drinks together, and Javi put in an order for some takeout while you found a movie to watch together. 

You settled on an easy-to-watch comedy, something you didn't have to concentrate on, so you could talk more. So far, you had to admit that your friend had done good with Javi. He was friendly, funny, and downright gorgeous. 

When the moment presented itself two movies later, as you were both rummaging through the walk in pantry for some movie snacks, you didn’t hesitate to kiss him. He was looking down at you, his eyes flickering to your lips and betraying his thoughts as your close proximity became evident to you both. Your manicured hands rested on his forearms as you stood on your tiptoes, craning your head to kiss him. 

A gentle peck quickly turned passionate, and before you knew it you were pressing his broad shoulders up against the shelves, helping him out of his button down and sliding it down his arms. 

“Cariño are you sure?” He murmured against your lips, large hands squeezing your ass, pulling you against him and holding you against his throbbing length. 

“So sure. You?” You trailed kisses down his collarbone as you worked the undershirt from where it was tucked in under his slacks. 

“Very.” He groaned, his large hand tilting your face up to kiss you again. “But I don't want rhe first time I fuck you to be in this pantry, nena. Let me take you to bed?”

“Yes, please.” Your desperation bled into your tone, and your skin heated.

He chuckled lowly, lips pulling into the most gorgeous smirk you'd ever seen. His eyes darkened with arousal, pupils blown, and he leaned down to claim your mouth again. His tongue performed a skilful mimic of what he hoped to do to you in bed, slipping past your lips to taste you and chase your moans. 

“Don't worry, nena. I've got you.” He promised, grinding his cock against your belly one more time before he was leading you to the bedroom hand in hand. 

Too eager to waste any more time, you both stripped off quickly, surging back into an embrace as soon as you were bare. His skin was hot against yours, his hands burning a trail across your body as they squeezed and cupped at your flesh, pinching your nipples into peaks and palming at your ass. 

You grabbed at him, too. Hands running down toned arms, grabbing at broad shoulders, pushing the firm globes his ass, drawing him to you. He sat down on the edge of the bed, encouraging you to climb onto his lap, straddling his leg.

His cock was weeping, leaving a sticky warm trail of arousal on your belly, and you were sure you were doing the same thing to his thigh, chasing the friction as you rolled your hips. You took him in-hand, thumbing at the slippery wetness at his tip, circling and spreading it as you retracted his foreskin to trace his frenulum. 

“Fuuuuck.” He growled, thrusting up into your hand. “You're soaking my thigh, nena. Are you ready to soak my cock? Come for me and you can have it.”

“Yes, fuck.” You moaned, and Javi's mouth pulled up on one side, a smug look on his face.

“Oh, you can come from this, can't you?” He realised, grinning. “Yeah, you like this, don't you.” Large hands slid up your sides, skimming your ribs until he reached your tits. Clever thumbs rolled your nipples, providing dual stimulation as you rode his thigh to completion. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck…” You chanted, chasing your release. “Need to to fuck me.”

“I will, nena. Just give me this one first. You're close.” He grunted in your ear as you slipped a hand down to gather some of your slick, using it to lubricate your palm and returning it to his cock. If he was going to tease you, you were going to return the favour.

One of his big hands left your side, reaching down to grasp your wrist. He held your gaze, dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief and arousal as he brought your fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. 

"Come for me.” He murmured against your fingers, tensing his thigh to provide you with more friction. 

The gentle, filthy encouragement had your arousal spiking exponentially, and faster, easier than you'd ever come before, you were soaking this gorgeous man's thigh and hoping he'd fuck you raw.

“Fuck, Javiiiiiii.” You cried, legs shaking and cunt weeping as it squeezed around nothing. It was still your best orgasm in recent memory.

“That's my girl.” He praised, kissing your neck and shoulders as you came down from your high. “You still want my cock?” He throbbed heavily against your belly, and you nodded. 

The spell was broken momentarily by talks of health and contraception, but then you were sinking down onto him raw, his bare cock nestled against your cervix as he bottomed out. 

“Fuuuck.” It was his turn to groan as he slipped into the hot, wet grip of your cunt. His patience for the slow, teasing pace you'd set lasted for a minute at most before he was laying back on the bed, rolling you both and pressing you into the mattress. 

He rolled his hips like a man that knew how to dance as well as he fucked; his rhythm smooth, confident and thorough as he pushed your leg up, opening you to him more. His clever fingers focused on your clit as he chased another orgasm for you. 

“Javi, please, ‘m so close.” Your voice was almost unrecognisable, garbled and strung with tension as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night, holding you on the edge until you keened desperately. Then, you were dragged over the edge with him, both of you frantically seeking out each other's mouths as you orgasmed simultaneously, the sensation of coming much more intimate and intense when it was a shared experience. He rested his forehead against yours, frantic kisses turning soft and tender as you both shook with aftershocks.

----

Afterwards, while finally having that snack, you had a question for Javi. 

“So, has that ever happened for you before?”

“I can't say that this is something I usually do…” Javi admitted, his neck and ears dusting with red as he flushed. 

“Me either. But I meant the whole simultaneous orgasms thing.”

“This was a new experience for you?” He sounded surprised. 

“Well, yeah. I've heard it’s super rare.”

“Cariño, your past lovers have been wasting your time, then.”

“Yeah, I think you've ruined other men for me with that.”

“Good. How about we go and ruin them some more, hmm?” He smirked, tugging at the undershirt you wore, white, oversized, and his. His fist curled in the fabric, bunching it up to pull you in for another kiss. 

You were panting by the time you parted, breathing heavily as this gorgeous man pressed you into his kitchen counter. 

“Yes, Javi. Take me to bed.” You agreed lacing your hand with his.

----

Loathe as you were to admit it, your friend had done well with this setup. You probably owed her a fruit basket or something.

[blitziwitchwrites]

pairing: online boyfriend!satoru gojo x reader

content tags/warnings: fluff, imagines, teenagers dating online, discord and gamers, mentions of potential grooming (satoru’s friends tease him that you might secretly be some old man), lowk teenagers having a general disregard for online safety 

author’s note: we all knew at least one person like this in middle school/high school, let’s be fr. anyways, always be safe when online, people! i just fuckin love dorky lovesick satoru, lmfao, he’s the absolute best. please let me know if i should make a part two!

—————

imagining online boyfriend!satoru gojo facetiming with you for the first time.

online boyfriend!satoru who met you through a big discord server for a ton of people who all play the same game. after dealing with a troll in the group chat, satoru told them off and then privately messaged you to make sure you were okay. after comforting you and talking to you after a while, you two decided to go and play your mutual game together, and you’ve been close online friends ever since.

online boyfriend!satoru who knew he was in love with you before he ever even saw your face for the first time. by the third month of you two talking, he would always insist he didn’t even consider you an online friend anymore. you were just his friend. he’d sit at the lunch table at school, ignoring his friends shenanigans at the table, too enveloped in his phone, texting you while you snuck your phone out to respond after you finished whatever exam you were taking that day.

online boyfriend!satoru who randomly dropped a picture of himself to you on one random day and felt like he was going to throw up from nerves when he saw you’d been online for a good few minutes and had left him on read, terrified that he overstepped or, even worse, the one girl who he wanted to be impressed by him would be the first person to tell him he was ugly.

online boyfriend!satoru who felt his heart leap out of his chest and run across his bedroom in circles a million times when you responded to his photos, telling him you were sorry for leaving him on read but you’d quite literally been staring at him and debating with your friend on whether or not his eyes were real because they were so beautiful, resulting in satoru sending you more photos of himself and a video of him literally poking his eyeballs to try and prove to you that they were, in fact, his real eyes and not contacts or photo editing.

online boyfriend!satoru who was so used to receiving compliments all the time on his appearance, but the only time he ever really felt butterflies or anything meaningful about the compliments was when he would receive them from you.

online boyfriend!satoru who would constantly talk about you to his friends because they started to call him out on how red his face would get when he was texting you. people would always tell him that he was getting catfished, or that you had to be ugly or not real if you hadn’t shown him a photo. online boyfriend!satoru who knew he’d be absolutely devastated if you turned out to be some forty year old man just grooming him, and maybe it was foolish of him, but trusted in the depths of his gut that you were who you said you were.

online boyfriend!satoru who noticed that, not long after he first sent you a photo of him, you would slowly not respond as quickly to him. you seemed a little more busy. online boyfriend!satoru who slowly stopped sending you as many pictures, fearful he was making you uncomfortable, but still couldn’t help but randomly drop you them sometimes because you’d always call him pretty or make a funny comment on whatever he was doing in the photo, and it was the only thing that made him feel better when absolutely nothing else could.

online boyfriend!satoru who finally decided to ask you one day if he was overstepping your boundaries and getting too personal, noticing you’d pull away from him a bit more whenever he would send photos of himself. online boyfriend!satoru who almost poured his entire heart out to you, telling you all of his feelings, and how much he adored and loved you and genuinely didn’t care how you looked when you told him that he wasn’t making you uncomfortable, just insecure because you felt like you did not deserve such a good looking and gorgeous guy to be texting you and giving you so much attention when you absolutely did not compare.

online boyfriend!satoru who had to just stare at his screen and be careful how he worded himself when he asked you to send him a picture of yourself, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, only to be surprised when you called him, insisting you didn’t have any good pictures of yourself that you wanted to send him.

online boyfriend!satoru who actually passed out when he picked up the phone and saw your face over video and heard your gentle voice, causing you to panic because of the loud bang from his phone and how his face had been on the screen for all of one second, before it was suddenly just on the ceiling spinning fan in his teenage bedroom.

online boyfriend!satoru who needed a full two minutes to collect himself when he realized he fainted, staring at your face while making sure his could not be seen, not wanting you to see how bright red his face was when he saw you for the first time. despite what you thought, online!boyfriend satoru thought you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen.

online boyfriend!satoru who sat on the phone with you for hours that night, despite the fact it was a school day the next day, falling asleep on videochat with you because he absolutely refused to hang up the phone and have to stop looking away from your face or hearing your voice for even a moment, now that he finally got to hear it and see how real you were and how you were even better over videochat than you were online.

online boyfriend!satoru who woke up the next morning to see you’d also fallen asleep on video chat and watched how your hair fell in your face and you were snuggled into your pillow, and stayed on video chat as he got ready for school, and sat on video chat on the bus until you finally woke up for your own school day, before finally hanging up so he could go to class and you could get ready for your day.

online boyfriend!satoru who jumped in his desk in the middle of class later that day when he decided to spill his feelings out to you and ask you to be his girlfriend later that day, after thinking about you all day and hearing how much you enjoyed videochatting him, and seeing that you said yes and that you also really liked him, too.

online boyfriend!satoru who is already looking up part time jobs for the first time in his life, just to save up enough money that he can travel out to you during his spring break after begging and begging his parents to let him go, who agreed as long as they could talk to your parents and he paid for his own plane ticket, to which you agreed and talked to your own parents. online boyfriend!satoru who, now that he’s seen your face and heard your voice, wants to see you in person and actually get to feel your squishable cheeks and kiss you until he can’t breathe.

————— 

not proofread. do not copy, steal, repost, and/or translate. copyright protected by blitziwitchwrites.

[ripdragonbeans]

Love In The Darkest Of Places // modern!Aemond x Reader

Chapter 9: Healing is a Process

Summary: Focusing on bringing Alys down, you and Aemond get caught up in the rush of it all, causing you two to burn out. What better way to help that than therapy?

A/N: Love my @exitpursuedbyavulcan lol

Masterlist

Chapter 8 // Chapter 10

Curled up next to Aemond, you gently played with his beautiful long hair as you both faced the computer monitor. Every time either of you looked at Aemond’s draft to the head of the university, you would freeze. Both of you wanted Alys out of your lives, out of the university, so why were you hesitating?

“We should gather more evidence if we can,” you offered. “Maybe find some of the other guys she's gone after?”

Aemond shook his head. “I doubt any of them would want to call her out. They probably didn't even realize she was manipulating them. I didn't see it until I talked to you.” He sighed. “She's good at this game.”

“Are you going to send the report anonymously?” It was the first time you asked him.

“I'll send the report anonymously, but I'm not going to erase my name from the texts. They need to see every step she does, including calling me by my name.” He took a breath. “But if you want me to go completely anonymous, I will, and I understand. I don’t mind pulling myself through the mud, but I don’t want you to get dragged as well.”

You moved to sit in Aemond’s lap and faced him. Holding his gaze, you told him, “I am never leaving you again. You go through hell, I go through hell. Together forever.”

He nodded. “Okay, then. I'm not going to hide.”

Moving off his lap, you stayed close and watched as he began typing vigorously. 

To whom it may concern, he typed. I write to you to inform you that one of your staff members, Professor Alys Rivers, has engaged in inappropriate conduct with students. Attached to this email are screenshots of conversations between her and me, Aemond Targaryen. 

I trust that appropriate action will be taken in this matter, and I am happy to cooperate with any further investigation you require.

Sincerely, 

Aemond Targaryen

Taking a big breath, Aemond sent the email. When he looked to you, you gave him a reassuring smile, took his hand, brought it up to your lips, and gently kissed the back of it. 

“I'm so proud of you,” you whispered. “She will not get away with this, not anymore.” As you looked at him, you noticed how exhausted he looked. You knew it must have taken a lot out of him. It was one thing to admit all that has happened to you, but to go public with it is another story. “Come on,” you tugged on his hand as you stood up. “Let's go somewhere.”

As you pulled up to the building and got out of the car you gave Aemond a small smile. 

“The library?” He asked.

“You always feel better after you've been to the library,” you shrugged. “So I figured why not take a quick trip.”

Aemond pulled you into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

When you broke away from the hug, you took his hand and pulled him over to the library, not that he needed any goading; you just enjoyed pulling him around sometimes. As you entered the library the smell of books immediately surrounded you. It was a warm and cozy feeling. Hand in hand, you wandered the isles of many books until you each found a few to borrow for the month. Before checking out, however, you found yourself in a cozy alcove upstairs where the two of you could begin reading one of your books.

The quietness of the library was a welcome reprieve from the loud noise going on in your head and you figured it was the same with Aemond. With so much going on in life it was important to you that you and Aemond both find ways to settle all that noise and take a breather every now and then.

You closed your book, a good fourth in already. “Ready to head out?” you whispered to Aemond.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he closed his book. When he stood up from the very pillowed chair he stretched his arms high, revealing a little bit of skin as he did so.

You smiled seeing that little glimpse of his stomach. Instead of being a menace, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Pressing your face against his body, you inhaled his scent and took the moment in. For the first time in a while, you and Aemond were at peace. 

Aemond wrapped his arms around you. He tilted your head up by lifting your chin and pressed his forehead against yours. “This is nice,” he said quietly.

You murmured your agreement.

Within the peace and quiet of the library, you and Aemond were both able to find yourselves again and plant your feet well into the ground again.

“How do you feel about therapy?” you asked him the next day. It had been on your mind for a while, and you thought it would be good for both of you. You fixed your breakfast as you waited for his answer.

“Like talking to someone about everything?” Aemond paused. “It's crossed my mind a few times, yeah.”

Crossing across to the couch, you sat down next to him. “I think it would be a good idea,” you offered. “Maybe couples counseling, too.”

Aemond turned to you quickly. “Do you think we need help? I can do better. We can work it out.” His eye widened in horror.

“No, Aemond, we're okay,” you reassured him, then shrugged. “I just think it would be healthy for us, especially after all that's happened.” 

“I think therapy is a good idea,” he said after a while. “I still haven't fully comprehended everything that's happened and,” Aemond sighed, “I want to feel better. I want to be better, for you and for me.”

“Then let's do it.” You nodded your head and kissed his cheek. “Couples therapy it is. Do you want to go on your own, too?”

“I think I will. It'll probably be for the best.”

You smiled. “I agree.” Wrapping your arms around him, you held Aemond close to you—close to your heart. You would never let him go, not anymore, and you would never let someone make him feel so inferior ever again.

The waiting room in the therapy center was painted a dull brown, creating a neutral-esque environment. It was all brown. Different shades of brown. The chairs and benches, however, weren’t brown; they were black. It was a very boring sitting room, you thought, but it was better than being overstimulating.

As you sat with Aemond, you noticed he was bouncing his leg. “Nervous?” 

Aemond continued to bounce his leg. “On edge, I would say.”

On this day, Aemond donned his usual eye patch and pulled his hair up in a bun. He was dressed casually, but being Aemond, he looked like he had an important interview to attend.

You placed a hand on his knee. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

You looked around. There was no one else in the waiting room, and granted, it was later in the day as well. After a few minutes of silence, a door opened, and a man called out your name and Aemond’s. As you two stood up, Aemond nervously wiped his hands on his pants. Instinctively, you reached out and took his hand.

“We'll be right over here,” said the man you assumed to be the therapist. “Sit anywhere you like, and please make yourselves comfortable.” He smiled warmly before going behind his desk. “Hello, I will be your therapist, Dr. Simon Strong. A lot goes into this, so let's start at the very beginning. How did you two meet?”

Aemond, hesitant, didn't say anything, so you took it upon yourself to begin the conversation. 

“We met when we were children. Our mothers were, emphasis on “were,” close, and when they drifted apart, we stayed friends. We were neighbors, actually.”

“And how did that help build your relationship?” Dr. Strong asked.

“It brought us closer together,” you shrugged.

“She was my only friend,” Aemond said carefully. “She would visit a lot and wasn't scared of my brother or off-put by my sister, like some other people who had tried to be friends with me.”

Dr. Strong raised his eyebrows. “Your only friend?”

Aemond shuffled his feet. “Yeah, I didn't have many friends growing up; it was more of just her and my siblings.” He looked at you. “But she's the best person that's ever walked into my life, and for that, I'm grateful.”

The therapist nodded. “Now, I would like you two to tell me why you want to do couple's therapy.”

You answered without hesitation. “We want to have a healthy relationship.”

“I had an …issue with a past relationship, and I don't want that again,” Aemond added.

Dr. Simon Strong leaned forward with interest. “Ah. We’ll get that later. Here is my question: has your relationship always been romantic?

You shook your head and laughed, “No, it was never like that. We were children; we didn’t know what love was. We knew we cared about each other, but that was it.” You tried to push away some of your very first feelings for him.

“I think I was always in love with you,” whispered Aemond.

“Aemond…” you paused to take a breath. “Now that I think about it, I think I was always in love with you, too.” You turned to Dr. Strong. “I think we both fell in love early on but didn’t quite know what it was,” you cleared up.

“That’s fair. Many do not understand the deep and abstract concept of love outside of caring for others when they are young children.”

“All I knew then is that I cared about her. There wasn’t exactly any love between my mother and father,” Aemond said. “I had no real example of what love was supposed to look like.”

“And there is no one-fits-all all when it comes to love,” Dr. Strong added. “Every couple looks different. What matters is that both parties are happy and healthy. Are there any moments in your history as children that stick out to you?”

“When I was sick once he brought me soup,” you offered. “It wasn’t much, it was very simple, but I remember feeling cared for.”

Aemond cocked his head to the side. “I remember that. You were running a high fever and were suffering from body chills.” He looked at you. “I knew even then I wanted to take care of you. I didn’t like it when you got sick or hurt, but I’m glad you always came to us when something happened.”

“It wasn’t like I could go to my mother or father,” you scoffed. Turning to Dr. Strong, you explained to him, “My family was never the most supportive of me. I know for a fact they never wanted me, and they weren’t eager to hide it.”

“That must have been very traumatic for you,” Dr. Strong replied.

You shrugged. “It’s something I grew up with. It’s more like background noise at this point.”

“It still follows you?”

“I guess it kinda hangs over me.”

“I see…” Dr. Strong scribbled something down. “What about you, Aemond? How is your relationship with your family?”

“My birth dad is nonexistent. I don’t want him around. My mother and my siblings care about me, and I care about them. I know there is love and support between us all.”

Dr. Strong addressed both you and Aemond with his next question. “Have either of you had previous relationships?”

Silence enveloped the room. 

“Not me,” you said, breaking the silence. Well, Aemond thought I was in a relationship with someone else, but I wasn’t.”

Dr. Strong straightened his back. “Oh?”

“It was this double date she and I were practically forced into when we were in high school,” Aemond explained. “We didn’t go on the double date as a couple but as a part of the other’s date. It was a mess. I got jealous, and I tried to make her jealous and it ended up with both of us getting hurt.”

“Has that event shaped how you two are now as a couple?”

“Not that one specifically, but…” you trailed off to let Aemond bring her up. She had to be talked about. She was the elephant in the room.

“My professor. One of my university professors coerced me into a relationship with her,” said Aemond. His face had gone blank and devoid of emotion.

“Was there anything that led you to be in a relationship with this person? From what you have told me, the two of you are very close.”

You hesitated. “I told him I couldn’t be with him. We kissed, a heat of the moment thing, and I freaked out and ran away and told him I couldn’t let myself be with him.”

“And how did that make you feel, Aemond?”

“I was… heartbroken, I guess. I didn’t know what to do.”

“And how did this professor coerce you into a relationship?”

“She flirted with me. A lot, actually.”

Hearing this made your blood boil but you kept your anger and jealousy down to let Aemond tell his story.

“She would call me to her office, and we would talk. She would make leading comments and ask questions bordering on inappropriate. At first, I hated it, but then I started to want that; that feeling of someone wanting me.”

Your heart dropped as though it was attached to a rock and then thrown into a lake to drown.

“The day she kissed me…I felt wanted, and that’s what I was looking for, what I so desperately needed.” Aemond turned to you. “I never initiated any of our intimate moments, including kisses or hugs. Everything was started by her.” He turned back to Dr. Strong. “I was just going through the motions. There was maybe a time I felt like I actually cared for her; I did care for her in a way, but not in the way I care about my…” he trailed off and looked back at you. “You. I never cared for her the same way I care for you. Alys was all physical, not even always wanted. I let her do whatever to me just so I could feel like I was wanted by someone.”

Tears were streaming down your face. “Oh, Aemond, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged off the apology. “It was my choice to follow her and I regret it every day.”

“Well,” Dr. Strong started, “that is certainly a lot to hop into.” He made sure to look at both of you. “You did really well, you both did. You should be proud of yourselves for opening up not just to me, but to each other. I can tell you two care about each other a lot and want this to work. That’s good.”

“Do you have any suggestions for us as a couple?” you asked.

“As a couple, not really. I do encourage you to continue talking openly with each other. That does wonders in a relationship. Communication is key. Individually,” Dr. Strong looked at you, “you should try reaching out to your family, maybe they’ve grown, maybe not. If you would not like to reach out to them, that is up to you, but I think you may find some closure. As for you, Aemond,” he turned to face him, “I would consider a companion to have around when your significant other is unable to be with you. A dog, perhaps? A cat is easy to take care of, not a fish, someone you could find comfort in when things are too hard. Both of you taking care of an animal would be beneficial to you as a couple as well.”

The two of you nodded. 

As the session went on, Aemond talked about Alys and their relationship and how it has formed who he was now. Hearing him talk about her made you uncomfortable but hearing how uncomfortable she made him made you mad.You thought back to the first time Aemond had told you about Alys and when you had caught them in the hallway. It was her that initiated it; not him. It made you feel better, in a way, but you were still not a fan of it. But then he had seemed so…besotted with her. Knowing now that it had been more infatuation and physical than anything helped how you felt about the whole situation. However, it had you wondering about the dinner you had with them as well. Aemond seemed so out of it and now you knew why. 

During the session, you touched on your family a bit more and how they treated you and how that shaped who you were now. It was…difficult to talk about them. When you had your last conversation with Jace you thought that would be the last of it. That may not be the case anymore. 

 Aemond began speaking. “There… there is one other thing I’d like to talk about before leaving: my eye.”

“Ah, yes, I was wondering if you were going to bring it up. What would you like to say about it.”

“I won’t give all the gruesome details, but if anyone’s ever been there for me, it’s her.” Aemond reached out and grabbed your hand. “She was the one who gave me the sapphire in my eye, actually.”

“I have a matching necklace,” you added.

“If it weren’t for her always being there for me, I honestly don’t know where I would be now. I can’t imagine my life without her.”

You squeezed Aemond’s hand and looked at him. “I don’t know where I’d be, either, Aemond.”

When you and Aemond finally broke your gaze and looked back at Dr. Simon Strong, you found him smiling at the pair of you. “You two will do well in therapy. You have already done a good job of communicating and this is only the first session. We’ll see you in a week? I normally see my patients every week and then we slowly start to add more and more time in between sessions.”

“Yeah, in a week is good,” you said.

“Wonderful,” Dr. Simon Strong smiled at you. “Now it is time for Aemond’s session by himself. You can wait in the waiting room.”

“Thank you again, Dr. Strong,” you shook his hand and then turned to give Aemond a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room.

The drive back to Aemond’s apartment after the therapy sessions that day was quiet, but in a good way. Both of you have been carrying baggage and now that it was all out in the open the air felt cleaner. You glanced at Aemond through your peripheral vision and smiled. He was gazing out the window.

“Everything all right?” you asked him.

Your question apparently startled him. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“We did a lot today. I’m proud of us but I’m mostly proud of you, Aemond.”

He let out a breath that sounded like a chuckle. “I’m glad I can make you proud, my dear.”

“Oh? Have we graduated to pet names now?” You said with a joking edge knowing that using pet names and nicknames were a bit of a sore spot for him after her.

Aemond took a beat. “Yeah, I think we have.” He moved a hand onto your thigh and gave it a squeeze. “I’m honored to have you as mine, my love.”

If you could have, you would have pulled over to the side of the road and kissed him right then and there, but you couldn’t. Instead, without taking your eyes off the road, you brought his hand to your lips and gently brushed them against his knuckle. “As am I.”

Despite living with Helaena, you found yourself spending more and more time with Aemond. A few days later, you found yourself curled against Aemond’s body in bed. While you were awake, Aemond was softly snoring, still asleep. His arm was draped around you and held you close, your back pressed against his stomach. You turned to look at him and take in his beauty. With his eyepatch discarded on the bedside table, his sapphire shined in the morning light. His long hair was sprawled out on his pillow as his head was turned towards you, as though the last thing he saw before falling asleep was you. Smiling to yourself, you basked in the moment. It was peaceful.

After a few minutes of beautiful silence, you gently roused Aemond from his sleep. “Wake up, my dear.”

Aemond mumbled something and simply pulled you closer, burying his 

“Aemond,” you groaned, “it's time to get up.”

“It’s too early.”

“No, it's not. Come on, let's get going.”

“Fine,” said Aemond, dragging out the word.

You finally shimmied out of his grasp and sat up in bed. Gently pulling up Aemond to a sitting position, you laughed as he pretended to resist you. Once you got him sitting up, he immediately fell on top of you, completely limp.

“Help, I've fallen and I can't get up,” he said half heartedly.

You had to wiggle him off of you to be able to get off the bed. When you were able to actually get up, Aemond relented and did so as well. With his hair all messy, he muttered something about being tired then flipped his hair out of his face. Lumbering over to his closet he pulled out his clothes for the day. You watched him as he changed, unmoved from your spot in the room. As if he felt your eyes on him he turned around. 

“Like what you see?” he playfully asked.

You took a few steps closer to him. “Of course I do, my love.”

Aemond hummed contently as you hugged him. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “It’s time for you to change out of your pajamas as well.”

“What? You don’t like my shorts paired with one of your shirts?” you teased.

“Honestly, I love it, but where we’re going may require a change of clothes,” Aemond said.

With his words, you remembered the goal of the day. You were going to begin the process of adopting a dog.

[atreyucannamos]

IV: The Gunslinger and the Knight, Part 3

5003u / 7576 SR THIRTEEN YEARS AGO CANNAMOS FAMILY ESTATE, CANNAMOS PRADESH, KHAYRADIN

Soundtrack: Trevor Morris - Viking Comforts

Another silence fell through the forest, deeper even than any that followed before, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath.

When he finally spoke, it was not loud, but neither was it quiet. His voice was not just deep, it was beyond deep; Atreyu had not really had the vocabulary to describe it until his geography tutor had taught him the word abyssal.

"Who is responsible for this travesty?"

Immediately, Praya and Atreyu shot to their feet and bowed as low as they could manage, speaking over one another.

"Lord Uncle, it was me, I got caught up in a game and Praya-"

"Honoured Father, I take full responsibility-"

"Quiet." A single barked word silenced them both. As if they were not even there, he turned away, towards one of the Dusk Wings. All of them had retracted their helmets and dropped to both knees in deference. "Akshey. I have entrusted unto you the safety of two children I hold dearer to my heart even than my own life, yet here I find them. Frightened. Injured. Their lives nearly ended by a... beast. Abandoned by the very kuirassers who had sworn their very lives to protect them."

There was a thump as the pilot prostrated himself, the chest of his mech flush with the forest floor. "Worshipful Stonelord, a thousand apologies could not be enough. I take full responsibility. I beg you, apportion no blame to my subordinates, allow me to take upon my should-"

Hyderad closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a breath though his nose that seemed to last for a thousand years. "I clearly cannot trust you to take upon your shoulders the safety of my own blood, Akshey. Why would I trust you with the burden of responsibility for anything else?"

Praya held up a hand. "Honoured Father, please, we snuck away from-"

"Silence," Hyderad hissed. "Do not think to excuse their failure. I expect your bodyguards to possess enough wherewithal that they are not routinely outwitted by a twelve-year-old." He turned his attention back to the kowtowing pilot. "Or is that an unreasonable demand? May a Stonelord not furnish himself with guardians of such a caliber? Do I aspire above my station, perhaps?"

He motioned around the clearing, raising his voice only the slightest degree. "Well? Answer me. How did my daughter and her cousin slip your leash? How did it take so long for anyone to notice they were gone? Why did the alarm not raise the second nobody had them in sight? After they triggered their distress beacons, why did it take almost five minutes for any of you to reach them?"

In the wake of his words, nothing disturbed the quiet. Nobody dared answer. Hyderad knelt to look upon the corpse of the rock tiger.

"This thing wasn't killed by veil rifles. If I had to venture a guess," he said, reaching down and plucking the utility knife from its chin, "it was killed either by incisive trauma to the brainstem, or intracranial haemorrhage from repeated blows to the head. Which means - unless you have taken to killing in the least efficient manner your kuirass allows - that it died before any of you even arrived. It means that my daughter and her cousin did a better job of protecting their own lives than the men I pay to do the job."

A servant, previously unseen, rushed forward to take the knife, and then another with a cloth to wipe the blood from the Stonelord's hand.

"We are truly blessed by the Builder and the Titan," Hyderad declared, "that it was a tiger, something with the wit and will of a beast, and not an Ungrateful. Had it been so, I have no doubt in my mind that my heir would be dead, or a hostage in the hands of our enemies. And you, Akshey - you and your entire squad - would be solely responsible. In every way that you could fail, you have failed. Even their safety does not absolve you in the slightest, because in no way were you able to facilitate it. Everything that befell them, they saved themselves from. Had they not, you would've arrived to the corpses of my heir and my beloved nephew being devoured."

Even through the armour of their Dusk Wing, it was clear that the pilot was trembling.

"There is no place for you or your underlings in the Khayradin Elites, Akshey." Hyderad's eyes narrowed until it was barely possible to see them at all. "For this failure, I should kill you where you stand."

The pilot cried out. "Please, Stonelord, I beg of you-"

Hyderad stamped his foot irritably. "But... my relief over seeing my daughter and nephew alive far outweighs my wrath. And it would trouble them, I am sure, to carry your deaths upon their conscience, deserved as they would be."

The man's relief was almost palpable. "Oh, thank you, merciful Stonelord, I-"

"Instead," Hyderad continued, stamping his foot again, "when I and my entourage have departed, you will doff your armor. Then, your hardsuits. I will leave a detachment here to ensure that it is done. You will leave my estate on foot, in your smallclothes, and make for the city. Should any you meet upon the way, from the lowest commoner to the highest noble, ask of your plight, you will explain to them your failure - briefly, so as not to waste the time of your betters. If they see fit they may spit, curse and strike you with my blessing. Praya, Atreyu, come." He turned on his heel.

Mechanically, the two children rose to their feet and trotted along in the wake of the Stonelord. They said not a word, and shared only a quietly terrified glance, leaving the weeping of the former bodyguards to slowly fade into the distance behind them. The only other sound was the mechanical footfalls of the Atlas suits flanking them.

"What was your mistake?" The question cut the musty forest air like a rapier.

Neither Atreyu nor Praya said anything, and so Hyderad slowed his stride turned his head the slightest amount towards them. "I've asked you a question. I expect an answer."

Praya spoke first. "We went beyond the bounds of-"

Her father waved a dismissive hand. "You are the daughter of the Stonelord and the Patriach of House Cannamos, standing on the ancestral estate that will one day be yours. Not an inch of soil here is forbidden to you. Try again. What was your mistake?"

Atreyu, trembling, made his own attempt. "We... I... shouldn't have gone off without seeking your permiss-"

Hyderad stopped suddenly and turned, causing both children to skid to a startled halt. "You would bother me every time you wish to run off and play? No, Atreyu. You are not my Graven Heir, and even she would not interrupt me for such trivialities. The instinct to seek permission is a sound one, but it was not your failing here." In a single, fluid motion, he swung back around and resumed walking. "So, I ask again - what was your mistake?"

There was another uncomfortable silence. Atreyu swallowed. "Trust?"

Again, Hyderad stopped, but this time, he seemed to genuinely regard the boy. "You begin to reach for the truth, Atreyu. But trust on its own is not a mistake. Do you see these eight men and women around you? Each of them in a kuirass, each of them wielding a sword with a blade as long as I am tall. Each of them alone could kill me - against eight, I would be as a horsefly against the mountain. But they do not. They will not. How do I know? I trust them. So, what was your mistake?"

Praya cupped her chin once more. "We didn't... see the Elites. We didn't see them. We just trusted that they were there. When they weren't."

Atreyu felt a spark of revelation. "We trusted blindly!"

Hyderad clapped his hands together, causing both children to yelp. "There you are, Atreyu! Good boy. You trusted blindly. You did not ensure for yourself that your trust was warranted. Praya, what should you have done?"

"We should've been... keeping tabs on our bodyguards," Praya replied, phrasing it half as a question. "Ensuring that they weren't too far from us to help, if we needed it?"

"I did not raise a complete fool for a daughter, clearly. In the short term, yes, these are good answers. You should have ensured that your bodyguards were present alongside you. But let us project ourselves forward, see into the yet-to-be. I see these eight men and women walking beside me; I have no need to question whether they will be with me in my time of need." He paused for effect. "But how can I trust that they will act as I require? Is that also not blind trust?"

Atreyu cautiously offered an answer. "You... have some way to ensure that they'll obey you."

For the first time since he arrived, Hyderad allowed himself the slightest of smiles. "Yes. And how do you think a Stonelord ensures such obedience? Praya, you will be Stonelord. This question is yours to answer."

Praya spoke without hesitation. "What you did back there. You showed them what happens if they fail."

The smile on Hyderad's lips widened, showing just a hint of teeth. Atreyu somehow felt like he was staring down the rock tiger again. "Yes. It's why I didn't accept your misguided attempt - noble as it was - to take responsibility for their failings. If I allowed such egregious incompetence to go unpunished, how could I trust that it would not be repeated? Mercy is a weapon in the Stonelord's arsenal, and if you use any weapon too often, it blunts."

He span on his heel once more, and again they walked in silence for a while, broken only by Hyderad's seemingly unrelated commentary on various sights they saw as they returned to the aerotrans - taking a route, Atreyu noticed, that seemed rather circuitous.

Then, without warning, Hyderad dropped another question. "Tell me, which of you proposed to sacrifice your life for the other?"

Atreyu sputtered. How could he possibly know that?!

"Atreyu did," Praya answered immediately, her face pale. "He told me to run. Said I had to live, because I was the Graven Heir. Tried to face the damn rock tiger with that little utility knife. He didn't even hesitate."

Atreyu felt his face burning with embarrassment as Hyderad fixed him with a stare.

"A demonstration of true loyalty there," the Stonelord replied, chuckling. "Stupid. Suicidal. Foolish. But very brave. You, Elites. You could learn a thing or two from this boy, and he, I think, from you. Kneel to him."

Without the slightest hesitation, there was a clatter as all eight of the kavaliers faced Atreyu and fell to one knee, their shining blades planted half a meter into the soil in front of them.

Hyderad placed a hand on child's shoulder. "Tell me, boy, and tell them. What did you feel in that moment? When death raced towards you? When you made ready to lay down your life in service to another?"

Atreyu wanted to tell the truth - that in the final moment, he flinched. That he'd wanted to scream "I don't want to die" and run for his life. That if it had been an Ungrateful, he would've begged. That he'd always played at being brave, but in the moment it had actually mattered, he'd been a coward.

Hyderad would never respect him if he admitted to it. Praya would never respect him if he admitted to it. These kavaliers would never respect him if he admitted to it. And so Atreyu told the lie that would, ultimately, define his entire life.

Soundtrack: Andrew Prahlow - The River

"I thought of the Titan, and how he's brave and bold, and faces his fate without fear."

[cyanide-and-roses]

Vengeance and Valentines

Two-Face x Female Reader

⁽ᶜᵂ: ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳ, ʸᵃⁿᵈᵉʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ, ᵖᵒˢˢᵉˢˢⁱᵛᵉ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛⁱᵒʳ⁾

(Author's note: this was originally a request for @yandere-wishes, but I accidentally deleted the original draft. My bad, I can be such a ditz. Anyways, happy Valentine's Day!)

You carefully inspected the image reflected in your vanity mirror. You had a date tonight, and your mind was filled to the brim with worry. Was your makeup good? Did your jewelry match your outfit? Was the dress you picked out good enough?

You take a deep breath.

"You look perfect." you told yourself, your reassuring smile reflected back at you.

You turn your attention to the alarm clock sitting across the room on your bedside table.

It's 6:00 PM. One hour before Harvey should be here.

"Maybe I should have waited a bit before I got ready." you sigh. Well, now you've got some time to kill. You grab a book from your bookshelf and go to sit on the edge of your bed.

You open the book and find yourself unable to focus on the words in the page, your mind still racing with worry.

"Are you putting yourself in danger by dating a known criminal?" You ask yourself.

Not only was he wanted by the police, but there's plenty of monsters who have a bone to pick with your lover. Sure, Harvey, as well as his alter Two-Face, wouldn't let any of them lay a finger in you, but you'd have to be stupid to ignore the fact that by associating with them, you're putting a target on your back.

Two-Face is also known to get jealous. You recall how a few weeks ago he snapped and threatened one of his henchmen because he believed they were ogling you. The poor bastard swore up and down that he was doing no such thing, but Two-Face wasn't having it. You had to talk him out of hurting the guy.

Even though it is obvious that what you're doing is dangerous, you're still hesitant to leave Harvey. You love him, after all, and you seem to have evaded misfortune so far. There's also a small part of you, a darker, maybe even masochistic side of you, that wants to find out how bad it can get.

You try to ignore all these thoughts racing around your mind but to no avail. Frustrated, you put down the book and look at the clock.

An hour and twenty minutes has passed.

"Where the hell is he?" you mutter in mild annoyance, before you hear a knock at the door. You quickly make your way out of your room and to the front door.

Upon opening the door, you are greeted by the sight of your darling in his usual two-toned suit, stained with blotches of deep red blood.

"Sorry I'm late," he begins to speak, ignoring the shocked expression on your face. "I forgot I had some last minute business to attend to."

"Harvey... you're..."

"Oh, right! The blood. Didn't have time to change. We'll just swing by my place before we head out to dinner." He takes you by the arm rather suddenly and leads you to his car which he parked in your driveway. He ushers you into the backseat, before he gets up front and starts the car.

Once the shock wears off a little, you gather up enough courage to ask what exactly is going on.

"Somebody's been getting too close to you for my liking." He explains, still very nonchalant about the very strange situation he's put you in. "You know that guy you work with? The chatty one?"

Dreads courses through your veins as you figure out what he's going to say next.

"He was just a coworker! You didn't need to kill the man!"

"Just a coworker? The man has been planning to ask you out for a while." Harvey justifies.

"How would you know that? What, have you been watching him? Going through his stuff? Fuck, even if he was going to ask me out, I would have just turned him down!"

Harvey's jaw clenches. You can tell you're starting to anger him.

"(Y/N), I trust you enough to know you won't leave me, but that doesn't mean I can stand idly by as somebody tries to steal you away. It doesn't matter that they won't succeed, it's the fact they even think about it in the first place." He says, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as possible.

There's a silence between the two of you for a few minutes, before Two-Face speaks up.

"I could have been more brutal, you know? The bastard got lucky. If he lost the coin toss, I would've prolonged his death. He's lucky he just got a knife through the heart."

You don't respond.

"Look, I know what I did was drastic. I know I scared you, but I did it because I love you too much to risk losing you. Now, we're almost at my place. How about I get changed, then we enjoy our night out, okay? I'm sorry for worrying you."

Harvey waits for your response.

"Alright, babe... let's just get going." You sigh and force a smile.

You knew how dangerous loving this man could get. There's no backing out now. All you have to do is ignore the dread in your stomach and try to enjoy your special night out.

[memesfortas]

"The Thief" Sentence Meme

All quotes are dialogue pulled from the book "The Thief" — Book 1 of the Queen's Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner Change pronouns, proper nouns, verb tense, etc as needed! Made by Joly (theshirallen)

"What, haven't you escaped yet?"

"We might someday attain a relationship of mutual respect."

"For now, I will have your obedience."

"Some things take time."

"I think it's going to take a lot of time. I think it could take the rest of your life."

"Idle boasts, I suppose."

"I can steal anything."

"Well, you've learned to keep your mouth shut, at least."

"I want you to steal something."

"Don't try to be smart. You don't pretend well."

"Do you announce that you're going off to steal something before you start?"

"None of your business. Just keep your mouth shut, do you understand?"

"He's exhausted, that's all."

"Not exactly stalwart, are you?"

"Look, I'm very clean. Why am I washing again?"

"Where did you get so dirty?"

"What a lie that was."

"You can keep your civility to yourself. You don't talk to anyone, do you understand?"

"That was absolutely the most awful thing that has happened to me in my entire life."

"You'll make yourself sick."

"I don't want to get up. I want you to go away."

"I didn't plan this trip with your comfort in mind."

"I'm a lot more important than anyone else here."

"Most people find it galling to lose their freedom."

"Do you mean that we are out here in the dark looking for something from a fairy tale?"

"No one would mistake you for anything but a tool."

"Everything about you reveals your low birth."

"This is boring. How come boring makes me so tired?"

"Everybody goes to the temple, and everybody likes to hear the old stories after dinner, but that doesn't mean they expect a god to show up at their door."

"Tell me what other mistakes I made."

"Uneducated people rarely know much about the things they talk about every day."

"You're the one who doesn't know anything."

"A successful thief doesn't depend on things being unlikely to happen."

"If he finds out I want to stay, he'll take me away."

"Don't match your weakness against your opponent's strength."

"Glad to see someone is alert, if a little bit late."

"What are you looking at, sewer filth?"

"A little circumspection might be wise for someone in your position."

"You learn something new every day."

"What are you learning?"

"How can he look down his aristocratic nose at the unwashed masses when he's as poor as everyone else?"

"I bet he wakes up every morning and can't stand it."

"No. You're not going to tie me up."

"They're dead, too, stupid."

"Be blessed in your endeavors."

"I have work to do, and I don't like to work with bruises."

"Gutter scum can't fight its own battles."

"Gutter scum gets drafted into the infantry and fights for a worthless king, and hangers-on like you watch."

"That's treasonous!"

"Do I care?"

"His kind only ever serve themselves."

"Oh? And who else are you serving?"

"No unpleasantness, I trust?"

"This is where you earn your reputation."

"Do you come to offer, or to take?"

"Don't get yourself drowned on the first try."

"I don't know how it might happen, but if you fail, we are all lost together."

"I couldn't find it. I couldn't find anything."

"When you have returned to the land of the living, I have some questions to ask."

"Damnit. What were you doing all night?"

"I was tripping over prybars."

"I hear and obey, which is more than you have ever done."

"I have the highest respect for a craftsman."

"I'm trying to rob a god's temple, and you think I should worry about the ghosts of a few dead men?"

"Do not offend the gods."

"It is a great relief to my conscience that you are not drowned."

"We are alive, and you are alive, so this expedition was at least not the disaster of earlier ones."

"Do you have any doubts?"

"I just don't understand why I am so sure."

"I see you found a safe place to wait while we were busy."

"A little danger adds spice to life."

"I can't pull food out of the sky for you."

"How do you propose to get food?"

"You are going to steal it."

"I'll make sure we all go to the block together."

"It's not your job to think."

"You'll do your best, and if you best isn't good enough, we'll all go to the block together."

"Do you have any idea how impossible this is?"

"I thought you could steal anything."

"Things don't make noise."

"I'm not going back to prison."

"You think I would take you back to the prison?"

"You think I would trust you?"

"You don't have time to waste forcing me."

"Fine! Go die on the swords of the [name]. Be drawn, be quartered, be hung. I don't care!"

"What possible difference would it make to me?"

"Leave me a sword, and I'll do my best to slow them down."

"Just leave me alone. I'm fine. Go away."

"We saw everything from the top of the cliff."

"The only thing he can do with a sword is steal it or sell it."

"I've never seen someone win against that many men."

"I don't want him to be dead."

"The bleeding stopped and you will probably be all right, as long as you don't get a fever."

"Yes, that was a silly question."

"I owe you many apologies."

"I'll always wonder what you saw."

"Won't tell me, or can't?"

"I don't believe he holds you in high regard."

"And you will not break your promise?"

"You are more beautiful, but she is more kind."

"All I'm wearing is bandages."

"I think that I am more of an asset than a liability."

"All she wants from you is a promise of your service."

"Can we stop discussing this just now?"

"The river is running the wrong way."

"She might let me go as well. But she'd probably like best to catch me, and let you slip away."

"If you could be anywhere you wanted right now, where would it be?"

"Don't faint."

"I can manage, I promise."

"All my beauty gone."

"It might heal clean."

"This is not for us to figure out."

"You viper."

"I'm glad to see you looking better."

"I've decided not to give you the satisfaction of gnashing my teeth."

"She'll be plotting an elaborate revenge."

"Am I plotting an elaborate revenge? No, I haven't been able to think of anything adequate."

"He was clever. It's too bad he was a fool, too."

"I think you need more rest."

"I'll get up, and find someone else to tell me."

"The court is greatly impressed."

"People were careful not to offend her."

"I couldn't stand it, I think."

"It doesn't belong in this world."

"Stop biting your lip and say it."

"Anyone lucky enough to be married to you would count his blessings."