#this is from a few weeks back(as you can see. by the date) drawn shortly after finishing millenium break kingdom game | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kairawrites · 4 months ago

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first match.

author's note: first story I am sharing. please let me know if you want more for jude.

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: jude bellingham x singer!reader

kiss prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

summary: After a nasty breakup and a smear campaign by your vengeful ex, your PR team goes into hyperdrive, searching for a way to salvage your reputation as you finalize your sophomore album. To reclaim your title as America's sweetheart, you reluctantly agree to 'date' footballer Jude Bellingham. After a successful and perfectly planned meet-cute, you realize the plan might actually work. To keep the rumor mill spinning, Jude invites you to Madrid to watch him play.

You sit stiffly in the plush leather chair, your gaze fixed on a random spot on the far wall. The spacious office of your record label, with its panoramic view of Los Angeles, feels more like a cage than a refuge. Your fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread on your sweater, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken tension. Last night was another sleepless one, your mind spinning with the chaos of the last few months.

The door creaks open, and Lara, your manager, strides in with her usual brisk efficiency. But it’s the man following her who catches you off guard. Tall and athletic, with a calm self-assurance, he immediately seems different from anyone you usually deal with during one of Lara’s many SOS meetings.

Unlike the man next to him, who wears a suit, he’s dressed in a well-fitted navy blackbomber jacket over a crisp white T-shirt, adding a casual yet polished touch. His dark jeans are tailored to fit just right, and his sneakers are sleek and clean, hinting at their designer pedigree without being overtly flashy. A simple silver chain peeks out from beneath his shirt. He wears a black fitted cap that he removes as he scans the room. His dark curls are neatly styled, and his eyes are a striking shade of deep brown—intense and thoughtful.

You turn to Lara, your irritation evident. “You didn’t say we were meeting with another artist. I’m not doing a feature with a random guy.”

Lara, however, ignores your protest, her focus on the two men before her. “Y/N, this is Jude Bellingham,” she introduces the young man with an upbeat, professional tone. She motions for you to stand. Doing so, you quickly shake his hand before sinking back into your chair. “Jude, meet Y/N.”

“Pleasure,” Jude grins, his eyes lingering on you as you lift your phone from the table.

Email Hendrix new song. You ignore the calendar notification before placing your phone back onto the table.

You were supposed to submit the new song last week, but it has been rescheduled for the third time. You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation you had zoned out of.

“Thank you for fitting us in during your vacation,” Lara says with a smile as your gaze drifts across the table.

You stare just long enough to take in the polite smile he offers. He’s handsome, you note distantly. “What’s your name again?” you ask, your voice flat.

“Jude Bellingham,” he repeats, his voice steady, though you can see the hint of surprise in his eyes.

You nod absently, not hiding your lack of interest. “Never heard of you.”

Lara’s eyes widen, and she quickly looks between you and Jude, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m so sorry, Jude,” she says hastily. “She’s been…out of the loop for a while. She kinda keeps her head in the sand when working on new music.”

Jude’s lips twitch into a small, amused smile as he takes a seat beside his manager, who has been silently observing the exchange. “No worries,” he says, his tone easygoing.

He attempts to hold eye contact, but your gaze drops as Lara passes you an iPad.

Jude, however, can’t help but stare for a moment longer. He knows exactly who you are. He’s seen the headlines, the endless parade of tabloid articles that have taken over his social media feeds in recent months:

*"America’s Sweetheart Caught Cheating?”*

*"Ryan West’s Heartbreak: Y/N’s Betrayal?"*

*"Ryan West: Played a Fool by Y/N? Singer Dumped After He Helps Secure Her First Grammy!"*

*"From Darling to Villain: The Fall of Y/N."*

The headlines were relentless, painting you as the villain in the messy, public breakup with Ryan West, the wild, playboy singer whose antics are as legendary as his music. Jude had seen the pictures throughout your relationship—snaps of a happy couple slowly morphing to you tearful and exhausted outside of clubs and in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car, Ryan’s angry rants during concerts, and the public’s merciless scrutiny of every detail. The narrative turned on you overnight, casting you as the one who shattered the fairytale, though it’s clear to him now, seeing you in person, that there’s much more to the story.

You’re undeniably beautiful, even though your appearance starkly contrasts with the perfectly curated photos on your Instagram. Your skin glows softly in the muted light of the office, and your long dark locks are pulled back into a simple ponytail. Without makeup, your natural beauty is evident, but there’s a guardedness about you, a weariness that clings to you like a shadow. You’re wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and your lips are set in a firm line. Your dark, eyes remain focused anywhere but on him. You’re present in body but somewhere else in your mind, uninterested in the moment and, by extension, in him.

Lara notices how Jude’s eyes linger on your features, a hint of admiration in his gaze. She gently but firmly pulls your chair closer to hers, her expression shifting to one of urgency. As Jude leans over to better hear his manager speak, Lara shoots you a sharp glare. “Do you really not know who that is?” she hisses quietly. “Didn’t you read the email I sent?”

You shake your head, already annoyed by the direction this conversation is taking.

“He’s one of the biggest footballers in the world right now,” Lara explains. “He’s just finished a fantastic season with Real Madrid and is on vacation after helping his national team reach the finals of the Euros.”

“Throwing out accolades isn’t going to make me suddenly know who this guy is, Lara. I don’t watch soccer—”

“For the love of God, please do not call it that to his face,” Lara winces. “Since you didn’t read my email, here it is. He’s basically a household name for every fan of the sport. This isn’t just some random guy we’re talking about—Jude Bellingham is a huge deal. Kids want to grow up to be him, women want to sleep with him, and men want to be him. This is a massive opportunity, so you need to make this work because, frankly, we don’t have many other options right now. The media has been brutal, and we need to change the narrative.”

Change the narrative–the phrase that has appeared in every text, phone call, email, and conversation with Lara from the past six months.

You take in her words, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. The last thing you want is to be forced into something like this, but you also know Lara’s right. If this can help you regain some control over the situation, it might be worth it.

“Fine,” you say at last, your voice laced with reluctance. “But let’s keep it simple.”

Lara nods, visibly relieved. Her swift response suggests she’s eager to finalize things before you change your mind. “Thank you. Now, let’s get this started on the right foot.”

You straighten your posture as Lara retrieves a stack of iPads from her purse. Powering the first on, she slides it across the table. Your expression remains guarded as you look at Jude. He seems relaxed, though there’s an air of curiosity about him as he watches you.

Jude clears his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice steady despite your apparent lack of interest. “I’m actually a big fan of your music.”

“Thank you,” you mutter, barely audible. “And thanks for coming.”

“Y/N, Jude’s team approached us with a proposal that could be mutually beneficial,” Lara explains. “We think it’s a great opportunity for both of you to take control of the media narratives for each of your careers.”

As she begins explaining the details of the contract, you lean forward to start reading it, trying to focus on the terms. You attempt to ignore the brown eyes carefully watching you from across the table by zooming in on the document. You skip each page, focusing on the bolded text.

**Duration**: The PR stunt relationship will last for six months, giving both parties a clear timeframe for the arrangement. The time can be adjusted to fit the likings of both parties.

**Public Appearances**: Both parties agree to attend a minimum of five public events together, including concerts, charity functions, and social gatherings, to ensure maximum media coverage.

**Social Media Engagement**: Both will make joint social media posts and coordinate public appearances to generate buzz and maintain public interest.

**Media Interviews**: Both parties will participate in at least three joint interviews or promotional activities, designed to keep the media engaged and the narrative active.

**Behavioral Expectations**: Both parties are expected to maintain a positive public image and avoid any controversial behavior that could negatively impact the arrangement.

**Privacy Clauses**: Provisions are included to protect personal boundaries and ensure that certain aspects of your private lives remain confidential.

**Termination Conditions**: The contract includes terms for early termination, specifying any penalties or requirements for ending the arrangement before the agreed-upon end date.

You bite your lip, unable to hold in a nagging thought. You glance at Jude before looking back at Lara. “I don’t date athletes. My fans know that.”

Jude raises an eyebrow, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. “That’s fair. But, well, we’ve seen how it turned out with musicians. You might need to give an athlete a try.”

His smile spreads as he notes the narrowing of your eyes.

“I mean,” you huff directing your attention to Lara. “Won’t people be suspicious if I suddenly fall head over heels with someone like him? He’s not my type.”

“I can be pretty convincing.”

As you approach the security gate, you are greeted by shocked but excited murmurs. Fans recognize you immediately, their phones out, capturing every moment as you present your ticket. You pose for a few quick pictures, deflecting questions about whether you are here specifically to see Jude play. “Just here to enjoy the game!” you say with a smile, trying to stay composed despite the intense scrutiny.

“Follow me,” Toby Bishay, Jude’s best friend, says with a reassuring smile, breaking through your anxious thoughts. His warm smile brings one to your lips. “I’ll show you to your seat.”

“Just stick with Toby,” Jude assured you through a brief text exchange earlier in the morning. “He'll keep an eye on you. Glad you had a safe flight. See you after the match."

You trail after Toby, trying to shake off the feeling of being under a microscope. The perfectly crafted “meet cute,” which happened shortly after your initial meeting, was captured by paparazzi in LA, not taking long to circulate. The rumors exploded, and the world wondered when you’d be spotted together again. The time finally came nearly three weeks later, and now you find yourself on the biggest stage in the football world, every eye on you.

The electric hum of excitement buzzes through Santiago Bernabéu Stadium as you follow Toby through the corridors, the air thick with anticipation. Thousands of fans are already in their seats.

“Have you ever been to a game before?” Toby asks, glancing back at you.

“No, this is my first time,” you admit, feeling a little self-conscious at the admission.

“Then you picked a great game for your debut,” Toby says, guiding you through the maze of hallways. “The atmosphere here is insane–unlike anything else.”

You study him as he glances at his phone, wondering how much he knew about the relationship between you and his best friend.

“Jude pulled out the stops,” he chuckles, pausing to hold the door for you. “Wanted you to have the best seats in the house. Remind me to have him invite you more often.”

As you emerge into the open, the sheer magnitude of the stadium hits you like a tidal wave. The sea of fans stretches out in every direction, a sea of white Real Madrid jerseys and waving flags. The stands are a swirling mosaic of movement and color, with scarves held high and banners flapping in the breeze. The roar of the crowd is overwhelming, a vibrant, pulsating force that envelops you.

The atmosphere reminds you of your own concerts—the energy, the collective excitement. But it has been a while since you’ve been a member of the crowd instead of the one performing. The memory brings a nostalgic smile to your lips. You hear the crowd chanting in unison, their voices melding together into a powerful wave of sound. “Hala Madrid! Hala Madrid!” The energy is palpable, a living, breathing entity that seems to resonate with every cheer and chant from the stands.

You look over to find Toby watching you with a grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“This is nothing,” he assures you over the roar of the crowd. “Wait till the game starts.”

Toby leads you to your seats, which are positioned near the halfway line, offering an excellent view of the field. You can feel the weight of the crowd’s curiosity pressing down on you as you settle in.

A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach as you notice the woman next to you widen her eyes. She quickly turns to her boyfriend, whispering something in his ear.

You adjust the jersey you are wearing. It was delivered to your house merely twenty-four hours ago, as you struggled to finish last-minute packing. It came with a note from Jude that read: Gotta look the part.

You instinctively reach up, adjusting the elastic of your ponytail. You remember leaning over the hotel sink, studying your handiwork. The high ponytail was strategic, making it impossible for anyone to miss Jude Bellingham’s name and number prominently displayed across your back.

You sit forward in your seat, your hands gripping the railing as you scan the warm-ups. Your brow furrows once you realize Jude is nowhere in sight. It is strange not to have seen him in person since your first public appearance. Busy with training, he had flown back to Spain while you attempted to work on your album. But the lack of inspiration meant you hadn’t made any progress. In the three weeks since your last meeting, most of your communication has been through text, with a few phone conversations as you worked out the logistics of your visit. His texts were a consistent flood of humor, cheekiness, and a few tidbits of personal information. He didn't seem to mind that your answers weren't nearly as interesting or long as his. He had expected it to take a bit for you to warm up to him. When you'd expressed the struggle with finding inspiration for your new song, he invited you out to Spain for the week.

“Don’t worry about the attention,” Toby says, sensing your discomfort. “Once the game starts, they’ll be too focused on Jude and the action to pay much attention to anything else.”

You nod, trying to take comfort in his words. You pull out your phone and snap a photo of the field as the players warm up. The view is breathtaking—the vibrant green of the pitch, the players stretching and preparing, the energy of the stadium. You carefully consider what to write before deciding to type “Hala Madrid!” and sharing it to your Instagram story.

You instantly close the app, knowing it will only take a few seconds for the post to confirm what the internet is already wondering. Clicking on your messages, you ignore the waiting message from Lara that reads: Remember to smile and cheer for your man!

Instead of responding, you click on Jude’s name. The last message he sent was a simple, No need to say thank you in response to your gratitude for ensuring Toby would be your guide.

You quickly type, Have a great game! before slipping your phone into your purse.

As the game begins, the referee’s whistle pierces through the air, and the match kicks off with a burst of energy that ripples through the stadium. The crowd's collective roar washes over you. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation, and you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

As the first half unfolds, Toby leans over, pointing out a few things. “So, Jude’s playing midfield. His job is to control the game—set the pace, connect the defense and attack. Watch how he moves off the ball, too. That’s where he really shines.”

You nod, not entirely sure you understood everything, but appreciating Toby’s effort to make you feel more comfortable.

At first, you find it hard to focus. The crowd is so loud, so passionate, that it is hard to concentrate on anything else. You’d never seen anything like it—the way the fans were completely engrossed in every pass, every tackle, every near miss. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting swept up in the atmosphere, your eyes increasingly drawn to Jude.

He is everywhere on the pitch, commanding, graceful, yet powerful. The way he moves, the way he controls the ball, it is almost hypnotic. Toby was right—Jude was something special out there.

“See how he’s always looking around?” Toby points out as Jude receives the ball. “He knows where everyone is before he even touches the ball. That’s what makes him so good—he’s always thinking two steps ahead.”

You nod, your focus entirely on Jude. The noise of the crowd fades into the background as you watch him maneuver through opponents with a grace and precision that’s nothing short of extraordinary. The skill and artistry of his play make it clear why he is so adored by fans.

Suddenly, a collective gasp from the stands jolts you from your trance. Your eyes snap to the field just in time to see Jude being tackled hard. He hits the ground with a thud, and for a brief moment, he lies motionless. Panic grips your chest, a cold wave of fear crashing over you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, clutching the edge of your seat. The stadium seems to hold its breath with you as Jude sits up. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind racing with worry.

Relief floods over you as Jude grins, pushing himself off the ground. The crowd erupts into cheers, and Jude gives them a reassuring wave. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still racing.

“Surely that’s a foul,” you glance over to find Toby grinning.

“That happens a lot,” Toby says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Jude’s used to not getting calls. He’ll be fine.”

You nod, your eyes following Jude as he moves back to position.

The game progresses, the tension building with each passing minute. As the half winds towards halftime, the tension in the stadium is palpable. Jude makes another run down the field, and you can’t help but feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. Memories of his earlier tackle flash through your mind, making you hold your breath as you watch his every move. You grip the edge of your seat, your heart racing with anticipation.

Jude skillfully navigates past a defender, and you can barely contain your nerves as he lines up for a shot. The entire stadium seems to hold its breath in a collective gasp as the ball sails through the air. Time seems to slow down in that suspended moment, and your eyes follow the ball as it arches toward the goal.

Then, with a powerful strike, the ball whizzes past the outstretched arms of the goalkeeper and smashes into the back of the net. The stadium erupts in a cacophony of deafening cheers. The sound washes over you like a wave, a mix of joy, relief, and exhilaration. You find yourself on your feet, screaming and jumping up and down, completely swept up in the euphoria of the moment.

Toby pulls you into a hug, the thrill of the goal echoing in your cheers. The crowd's energy is infectious, Jude stumbling forward as his teammates crash into him in excitement.

As the crowd’s cheers intensify, Jude escapes the huddle and waves to the stands. Your heart skips a beat as you realize he’s jogging in your direction, his eyes locked on yours.

Without hesitation, Jude leans over the barrier and pulls you into a tight hug, his arms securing around your waist and drawing you close. You giggle, maintaining your balance as you feel the heat and sweat of his jersey against your skin. Jude’s embrace is warm and comforting, his grip tightening as his face buries into your neck, and the crowd’s cheers fade into the background.

As you pull back from Jude’s embrace, still breathless from the moment, you can’t help but exclaim, “That was amazing!” Your hands instinctively rest on his cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from him. "You were--amazing!"

Jude’s smile broadens, a genuine, radiant expression that lights up his face. His eyes lock onto yours with a softness that surprises you. There’s no trace of the cheekiness you expect from him.

“I had to make your first match memorable,” he breathes.

“You did that.”

Jude’s eyes linger on your grin as if savoring the sight. He registers the way your smile lights up your entire face, making you look even more radiant. The warmth and joy in your expression seem to captivate him, making you appear more beautiful than ever. It’s a sight he, and the world, hasn’t seen from you in months, and the pride he feels at making you smile swells beneath his racing heart.

Your smile softens as his grip drifts to your hips. The warmth of his smile seems to draw you closer as if an invisible force is compelling you to bridge the gap. His eyes hold a gentle intensity, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the entire stadium fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared understanding and anticipation.

But the spell is broken as his name rings through the intercom system, forcing you to blink. The deafening roar of excitement from the crowd reminds you of the public nature of the moment. Jude’s gaze shifts briefly to the surrounding commotion, and with a playful grin, he pulls back, his smile still warm but tinged with a hint of mischief.

“So, how about a kiss? It’s definitely what they wanna see.”

"And let me guess, you're a man of the people?"

"So I've been told."

Your eyes roll. Lightly pressing against his shoulders, you arch your brow as his grip remains. Your eyes pass over Jude's shoulder to the players returning to their positions.

“Maybe if you get another goal.”

“Deal,” he winks, before pulling back with a smirk and jogging back onto the field.

You watch him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. As you sink back into your seat, a hand resting on your chest to steady your breath, the realization of the stunt hits you with renewed clarity. It’s all part of the carefully orchestrated PR show. But as you look at Jude rejoining his teammates, a small part of you wonders if there’s something more beneath the surface. The match continues, and you find yourself caught between the excitement of the evening and the nagging reminder of the reality you’re playing in. But you can't help but wonder what will happen if he looks at you like that again during your week in Madrid.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham x black!reader #jude bellingham imagine

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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

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Meet the Parents

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader is nervous to meet jack’s parents

notes: got the itch to write again, and this request has been sitting in my inbox for awhile. this was very fun to write, and i’m learning i absolutely LOVE writing jack! the ending is kinda weird bc i didn’t really know how to end it, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: jack bringing his gf to meet the rest of his family and they all quickly adore her, but can tell she’s really important to jack and he really just loves her but she is also super close to Luke and that makes ellen very happy!! just something sweet have fun!!!

[4.2k]

“Darling, chill out. Everything’s going to be fine. I’m telling you, they already love you,” Jack brings a hand over to calm your bouncing knee.

You worry that Jack made a reservation at the wrong restaurant, seeing as the two of you have been sitting in the half circle booth for fifteen minutes already, and there’s no trace of the rest of the Hughes clan to be seen.

Jack’s parents had flown into Jersey yesterday, wanting to be there when the Devils play the Canucks tomorrow so they can see all of their children on the same ice once again.

Quinn and Luke were joining you for dinner tonight, too, but you had no fears about either of them being in attendance. If anything, the fact that both of them will be here calms your nerves a little more.

Luke was actually the reason you had met Jack in the first place. The small café you worked at being one of Luke’s favorite spots to come and decompress after practice or before big games. He would come in and sit at the same table in the back of the small dining room, ordering an iced green tea and a grilled ham and swiss every time.

You went to take your break one day, going to sit at your favorite secluded corner booth, only to find the space already taken by none other than your curly-headed regular.

He offered for you to sit, claiming his table had been taken when he came in, but he was about to take off anyways. You insisted he stayed and you share the booth, then spent your entire break chatting with the hockey player, as you had learned, and a friendship was quickly formed.

He started sitting in your booth instead of his table, causing you to spend most of your breaks talking to your new friend. The conversations during breaks and between rushes became him inviting you to games and outings with his teammates.

He had introduced you to Jack the first time you agreed to meet up with him at a sports bar down the road after a shift, and you were instantly drawn to the middle Hughes brother.

The more games you went to and the more you made appearances during post-game celebrations, the closer you became to Jack, until the two of you made the jump from friends to dating.

Luke had admitted that he knew from that first time he sat with you on your break, you were perfect for his brother. He orchestrated the whole thing, from inviting you out to bringing Jack along to a few of his ‘zen’ lunches before games after your first introduction to his older brother.

You were thankful Luke had decided to play matchmaker for his brother all those months ago. You couldn’t imagine your life without Jack in it, now. You had found your person, and gained two brothers out of it at the same time.

And even though you had been with Jack for quite some time, the opportunity to meet his parents had never presented until now. You had met Quinn only two months into your relationship, taking a trip to Vancouver with the two devils players to celebrate Quinn’s becoming captain of the Canucks.

Jim and Ellen hadn’t been able to make it then, flying out a few weeks after the three of you made your visit. Jack and Luke had invited you to spend the week with their family at their lake house this summer, but it was the same week you had flown home for your grandfather’s birthday party.

There were a couple more missed opportunities between now and then, but now is the time that you’re faced with the infamous task of meeting the parents.

You keep trying to tell yourself that they can’t be that scary, considering how quickly you were accepted by all three children they raised. But that seed of doubt keeps digging its roots in your mind, causing you to become a ball of anxious energy all day.

You had shown up and proceeded to clean Jack’s entire apartment at seven o’clock this morning, after cleaning yours last night, because you couldn’t sleep. You color-coded his t-shirts in his closet and re-organized all of Luke’s drawers in his room. Luke had joked that they should take you to a family reunion and maybe you’d start detailing their cars, next. The comment earned him a swift smack to the head from Jack.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, begged you to stop, and take a breather with him. He took you to a salon to get your nails re-done, the scrubbing you did to your shower last night ruining your current manicure. He also took you to the local animal shelter, remembering how you babbled about a statistic stating that petting a cat for ten minutes can reduce a person’s stress by 50%.

He brought you back to his apartment with plenty of time to get ready, and sat in the bathroom with you the entire time you showered so he could listen to you list your worries about this evening and reassure you everything would be fine. He claimed he wanted to learn and help when you sat down in front of the vanity he had bought and placed in his room for you, eager to help you apply the various creams and powders to your face. He tried to curl a few strands of your hair for you, causing you to break into a fit of giggles when he got the iron so tangled in your hair it stayed without either of you holding on to it.

His actions did ease your anxiety, being so focused on Jack and your love for him to leave any room for the familiar bubble of nervousness in your belly. But the second you stepped foot in the restaurant, it all became real again.

“Jack, are you sure this is the right place? Why aren’t they here yet? Do you think they forgot?” you place your hand on top of the one he just placed on your knee, looking over at him with wide, worried eyes.

“Yes, this is the right place. They’re just running a bit behind. Dad isn’t always the best judge of traffic. He thinks he can beat the GPS every time,” he chuckles, leaning in to place a kiss to your temple.

You close your eyes and lean into his kiss, allowing yourself to get lost in Jack and the comfort he never fails to bring you.

He removes his lips from your temple, lowering his head slightly to speak quietly into your ear.

“I promise, you have nothing to worry about. Mom is so excited to meet you, and Dad always asks about how your classes are going when I talk to him on the phone,” he starts, rubbing his hand up and down your thigh. “Plus, if for some reason they decide they don’t like you, which is literally impossible, by the way, it’s not going to change the way I feel about you.”

He places a kiss to your cheek, your eyes still closed listening to his words. You let out a breath you had been holding, letting yourself fully sag into his side. He starts to speak softly once more as you lay your head fully on his shoulder.

“They will never change how much I love you, Y/N. You’re it for me. I’ll live the rest of my life in familial exile if I have to. You’re the only thing that matters to me, understand?”

“Now, don’t be so dramatic, Jack, I’m a catch. Surely if I can survive all the puck bunnies I can survive your mom and dad,” you joke, his words giving you a small boost of confidence. “Plus, they raised you, how scary can they really be?”

You lift your head off of his shoulder and pinch his cheek, poking fun at the fact the internet claims Jack isn’t very threatening.

“Heyyy,” he draws the word out, feigning offense. “I can be scary. I am a big scary hockey player after all,” he pouts bringing his forehead to rest against yours.

You bring your hand up to pat his cheek. “Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that, pretty boy.”

You giggle as Jack growls at you and brings his hands to tickle your sides, causing you to yelp and try to squirm away from him in the large booth.

Neither of you notice the hostess escorting the rest of the Hughes family towards your booth.

“Alright, get a room you two, geez. And don’t make it mine this time,” you hear Luke’s voice ring out, referencing the time Jack’s sheets were being washed so the two of you decided to nap in Luke’s room.

You snap to attention, separating yourself from Jack fully.

You look up to see his entire family standing there, looking at you. Jack rolls his eyes at his brother, quickly scooting out of the booth to greet his parents.

“We take a nap in your room one time and you never let us forget it. We even slept on top of your comforter, for crying out loud!” Jack ruffles Luke’s curls as he walks past him.

You wiggle your way out of the booth to greet his family, taking a few deep breaths for good measure.

You find yourself in front of Quinn first, walking into his open arms for one of your favorite Quinn bear hugs.

“How are you, squirt?” he asks, squeezing you tight.

“Quinnifer, I’m only two years younger than you,” you squeeze him back, hearing him chuckle at your own nickname for the defenseman.

“Yeah, so you’re forever and affectionately known as squirt,” he says matter of factly, pulling back from the hug but keeping his hands on your upper arms as you roll your eyes at him.

“So, you doing okay? Any meltdowns yet? Jack told me you were nervous,” Quinn questions you, ducking slightly so he can look into your eyes.

“Well, Jack’s t-shirts are color coded and Luke’s drawers are now sorted in order of how he gets dressed, so if that’s what you call okay, then yeah, I’m doing great,” you reveal, giving Quinn a sheepish smile.

“I thought Jack said you were nervous? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for you,” he teases back, letting his hands drop.

“Ha-Ha, very funny, Quinnifer,” you deadpan.

Quinn laughs at you. “Seriously, you have nothing to worry about. I don’t know if Jack told you already, but they ask about you all the time. I think Mom’s over the moon that Rowdy finally has someone to keep him in check. They love you already.” Quinn tells you with the most sincerity you’ve ever heard from him.

You reach out and squeeze his shoulder, a silent thank you for the reassurance.

“Yeah, I think Mom’s already got the wedding colors picked out,” Luke approaches the two of you.

“Shut up, Moose. You’re just mad Jack snagged her when you were too dumb to,” Quinn elbows Luke in the ribs as he stands next to his oldest brother.

“Quinn, that’s literally the most disgusting thing you’ve ever said to me,” Luke hunches over, rubbing his abdomen.

“Gee, thanks Luke. Glad to know how repulsive you think I am,” you throw your arms up slightly, playfully scoffing.

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N, you’re a catch and all, but my God, that’s like someone telling me I should make a move on my sister,” Luke makes a gagging noise, emphasizing his point.

“Don’t worry, Lukey, I feel the same way about it. You’re the annoying little brother I never wanted and didn’t have…until now,” you dig back, earning your own eye roll from the tallest Hughes.

You look over to see Jack conversing with his parents when he catches your eye, waving you over.

“Well, here goes nothing, I guess,” you whisper out before walking the few feet to your left where Jack stands with his parents.

You walk into the open arm Jack has held out for you, his arm slipping around your waist, his thumb lightly rubbing up and down to let you know he’s right there with you.

“Mom, Dad, this is Y/N,” Jack introduces you as you place your own hand over his on your waist, grounding yourself to him.

You’re so focused on trying to smile without looking like you’re in pain that you don’t see the look Jack gives you.

Ellen, however, does. Jack told her how nervous you were for tonight, begging her to not ask you too many questions and to let you do the talking, no matter how well intended her questions are.

She sees the way her son looks at you, never having seen such an expression of love on his face before. She notices how tightly you’re gripping his hand, and the slight motion of his thumb.

She knew she liked you before this moment, Jack’s constant talking about you making her feel like she’s already met you before. But witnessing your moment with Jack before the two of you were aware they had arrived, seeing how comfortable you are with her son, and how much joy was on his face every time he looked at you, was enough to sell her even further.

You reach your hand out for a handshake, trying to discreetly wipe your hand on the fabric of your dress.

“Hi, It’s so nice to finally meet you two. I’m so sorry we haven’t been able to meet before now. Jack’s told me so much about you,” you say to both of them, but reaching your hand out towards Ellen first.

Ellen takes your hand. “Oh, honey, we’re not a hand shaking family. You see how Quinn is, we’re huggers,” she pulls you forward, wrapping you in what you can only described as a motherly hug.

She squeezes you tightly before letting go, giving you a wide smile.

You turn to Jim, his arms already open and inviting.

You give him a quick hug, now knowing where Quinn gets his bear hugging tendencies from.

The six of you make your way into the large booth, you and Jack taking your spot in the middle of the booth with his parents sitting to his left and Quinn and Luke sitting to your right.

Jack’s hand makes its way to your leg immediately. Throughout the meal he’s never not touching you. Whether it’s his hand on your leg, his arm around your shoulders, or his hand resting in yours on the table, he always lets you know he’s right there with you.

Ellen and Jim ask you about your school work and what your plans are after you graduate. They ask you about your family and where you’re from, but they mostly let you set the pace of the conversation, which you’re thankful for.

The food comes and goes, and the anxiety you felt earlier melts away the longer you converse with the family.

Once the plates are cleared and dessert is ordered, the topic of hockey finally makes its way into the conversation of the night. You’re thankful, the spotlight finally being taken off of you for a few minutes.

“So, Quinny, hope you’re ready to get your ass beat tomorrow, because Luke and I won’t be taking it easy on you out there, Cap,” Jack changes the subject when there’s a lull in the discussion of how you ended up in New Jersey, giving you a squeeze and a quick wink, being able to tell you were getting a little talked out.

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to. Then it’d be too easy, considering we’re going to shut you out anyways,” Quinn teases back.

“I don’t know, Huggy, I think that C added a bit too much weight to your jersey, you’re looking slower and slower every time I see you. Or maybe it’s just that old age catching up with you,” Luke chimes in.

“I’m twenty-four you idiot. I’m still one of the youngest guys on my team,” Quinn rolls his eyes. You notice a lot of eye rolling among the three brothers when they’re together.

“I don’t know, I heard that twenty-four in hockey years is basically like you’re fifty in normal people years,” Jim adds, smirking over at Jack.

“Oh, yeah? So you’re saying you could out skate me if we were to get on the ice right now, huh, Dad?” Quinn challenges his father.

“Sure I could. Who do you think you got all of your talent from, hmm?”

All three of the boys respond in unison. “Mom.”

The table erupts in laughter.

“Alright boys, enough. Before you talk your father into doing something that could get him hurt,” Ellen speaks through the laughter, looking up at her husband while resting her head on his shoulder for just a moment.

You watch the two look at each other, seeing how much love they share.

You turn your head to look over at Jack, laughter still on his face. You can’t help but smile up at him. You love him with everything you have in you, and finally meeting his entire family just solidified that for you. Being able to spend time with the wonderful people that raised him makes you love him that much more. You look around the table at his two brothers, still laughing with each other. You hope that one day you can have this with Jack. A family with nothing but love to give each other.

As you’re picturing your future with Jack, he’s looking over at you, thinking about how lucky he is that Luke happened to stumble into your café on one of his first days in New Jersey. He thanks the universe for putting you in his path and for the fact that you, for some unknown reason, decided to love him out of all the people in this world.

Ellen once again observes the looks both you and Jack gave the other when the other wasn’t paying attention. She feels a warmth settling in her chest when she looks at the two of you. She can see how much you mean to Jack, and how much he means to you. She sees how well you get along with Luke and Quinn, both of them talking about you nearly as much as Jack does. You fit in so well with their family; your humor, kindness, and capacity to love her boys making her feel like you’re simply an addition to their dynamic that she didn’t know was missing until now.

Dessert comes and goes and the boys all argue over who’s paying for dinner until Jim sneaks his card to the waiter while they were too busy yelling at one another.

You all exit the booth and make your way to the sidewalk in front of the building, chit chatting a little more while walking to the parking garage before parting ways.

You’re walking with Quinn, Luke and Jim, listening to them bicker about tomorrow’s game. You notice Jack and Ellen fall behind, Ellen linking arms with her middle son as they walk.

“So, what do you think?” Jack asks his mom, watching you push Luke lightly, wondering what he said to make your head fall back in laughter.

“Jack, she’s great. But you already knew that. Not that you need it, but my approval was given the second you called and said you’d met someone,” Ellen responds, following his gaze, watching you pull Jack’s jacket tighter around your shoulders.

“God, I love her, Mom. More than I ever knew was possible,” Jack sighs out, letting his head fall onto the top of Ellen’s as they walk.

“I can see it, Jack. And I can see she loves you just as much,” Ellen starts, bringing her free hand up to pat Jack’s arm. “My only advice? Don’t let her go. She’s special, Jack. The way she gets along with your brothers, and the way they love her like she’s been part of this family for years, that’s rare.”

Ellen blinks back tears, just overwhelmed with happiness that Jack found someone that’s able to love him as much as she knows he deserves to be loved.

“I know, Mom. Trust me, I know. I don’t ever plan on letting her go. In fact,” Jack pauses, pulling back from his mom as you round the corner into the garage with his dad and brothers, “I bought this about two months ago. Not gonna give it to her just yet, but I couldn’t stand it any longer. Had to go ahead and buy her one,” he pulls out a small velvet box, popping it open and showing his mom the ring he picked out for you.

“Oh, Jack,” Ellen coos as she takes the box from his hand, looking at the princess cut diamond sitting on top of the gold band.

Her eyes fill with tears for the millionth time this evening when she looks up at Jack, finally letting them spill over. She keeps looking down at the ring and then back up at Jack while the tears stream down her cheeks.

Jack feels his own eyes sting at his mother’s reaction, knowing they’re happy tears.

“Jack, I’m so proud of you. And so happy for you,” Ellen sniffles through the tears. “She’s going to love it, honey. Just…let me know before you do it, yeah? And don’t forget her parents, you gotta let them know, too.” She wipes her eyes, closing the box and handing him back the ring.

“Already taken care of. Asked them when I bought it. Told me they’d love nothing more, but to just let them know when it’s happening. And to send them lots of pictures,” Jack chuckles, placing the box back in his pocket but not taking his hand off of it.

“Oh, yes, I want lots of pictures too. Don’t want to miss a second of the moment I finally get a girl!” Ellen exclaims, throwing her hands out in excitement.

“Don’t worry, I plan on flying everyone out when I do it. Know it’d mean the world to her to have everyone here to celebrate afterwards. Got it all planned out and everything,” Jack tells his mom, pulling her in for a hug.

Ellen squeezes him as hard as she can, letting every ounce of pride and love she has in her body flow into Jack through her hug.

“Oh, and just in case you get too far ahead and start planning the wedding before I propose,“ Jack breaks the silence, knowing how excited Ellen can get, “Luke already called dibs on being the flower girl.”

Ellen bursts into laughter so loud it alerts you and the rest of her family that they were no longer behind you.

You back track just a little to find Jack and Ellen walking towards you while hugging each other and laughing.

“Where’d you guys go? I thought you were right behind us?” you asked, noticing the puffy nature of Ellen’s eyes but choosing not to overstep and comment on it.

“Oh, honey, we were. And always will be. Right here behind you, whenever you need us,” Ellen says as Jack comes up beside you and tugs you into his side.

Her sentimental comment confuses you, but you catch Jack smiling down at you out of the corner of your eye, any confusion forgotten the second your eyes met his.

“Alright, I better catch up with the rest of my crew. You boys need your rest tonight, you have a big game tomorrow,” Ellen points at Jack.

She makes her way over to you, Jack letting go of you in order to let his mother pull you into a hug.

“Y/N, it was so lovely to finally meet you. I’ll see you at the game tomorrow, okay?” She pulls back, bringing her hands to rest on your cheeks. “Welcome to the family, dear,” she tells you, pulling you in for yet another hug.

She meets her son’s gaze behind you as she squeezes you, a knowing look shared between the two.

You squeezed her back, willing yourself not to cry as you digest the words you wish you could go back and tell yourself this morning, so you could let her know it would all be okay, and to leave Jack’s closet alone.

She finally pulls back, walking over and giving Jack a kiss on the cheek before giving the two of you a small wave before disappearing around the corner, following her husband and two other sons.

You turn to look at Jack, tears in your eyes.

“Does that mean she liked me? Or was she just being nice?” you ask him, wanting to make sure you really did make a good impression on his family.

“Darling, she meant it, trust me. You’re one of us now. Have been from the start, really. The only thing you’re missing is the last name,” he assures you, earning a laugh as you shake your head and grab his hand, leading him in the direction of his parked car.

He watches as you walk in front of him, feeling the weight of the ring box in his pocket, finding no humor in the idea of you officially becoming a Hughes, knowing that day is coming sooner rather than later.

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ventismacchiato · 9 months ago

Text

RAFAYEL HEADCANONS

canon complaint, established relationship

sorry guys, can u tell i have a favorite

matching everything. phone charms. earrings. nails. socks. you name it, he’ll buy everything in two.

begs you every other day to get a matching tattoo with him. he’s even drawn up multiple designs for you to choose from and will keep asking you until you eventually agree, how could you refuse?

hates cats, says he’s allergic (he’s not) but will run out the room when your cat walks in when he’s staying over. one time you asked him to feed it when you were away on a mission and you watched through your cat cam as it took him fifteen minutes to get the bravery to even get five feet near your cat.

so very chronically online. he’s a certified yapper. you’re his only follower on his private twitter and best believe he’s posting every single thought he has, and he expects you to reply to every single one. also asks you to match profile photos, but he has commitment issues so you guys change them almost every week.

you usually wake up to at least one voice note from him, minimum of five minutes long. you got used to playing them as podcasts as you got ready for work.

honestly he already probably gets his nails done, but will let you do them for him. more so force you, he’s lazy. but if you like to have yours done he would be able to do the prettiest designs for you.

aquarium dates are his favorite, no need to get a guide because rafayel will talk your ear off the moment you’re inside.

boy who cried wolf. fakes being sick for your attention so much so that you don’t even believe him when he actually is. not until thomas tells you that rafa has been whining about missing you in bed.

clearly has abandonment issues and gets upset when you don’t let him know where you are or if you’re okay. he’ll show up at your apartment the few times you pass out from a mission and forget to reply, ready to be mad at you. but the moment he sees your wounds and tired eye bags he loses any ounce of anger he once had.

love language is quality time, doesn’t matter what you’re doing as long as it’s together. he’s the type to tag along when you need to go grocery shopping or pick up something. he just likes to be beside you.

he is a brat, so he’ll laugh as he watches you struggle to carry all the groceries back inside. but it’ll only last a few seconds before he scoops them from you. if you guys go to a carnival together his immediate thought is to win every prize there. it’s only when he’s sucked the poor booths dry is when you have to tug him away.

claw machine dates are weekly and mandatory, but if you think you’re getting a turn think again. he gets too into it and forgets to share. you’ve come to learn you just need to pry him away from it

always follows the sidewalk rule but in return will make a big deal out of you opening doors for him since you’re his bodyguard. he’s the girlfriend in the relationship fr

that’s not the entire time though, when it’s just you two and he’s all worn out from being annoying all day his tone will go softer and his gaze warmer. he loves you he really does he just showcases it weirdly

constantly asking, morelike begging, you to stay the night. even if you have work the next day he says he needs you to fall asleep. it’s happened so many times you eventually brought one of your uniforms over and some clothes so you could spend the night and still go to work. it’s hard not to give in to him.

loves pda. if it was up to him he’d have his hands on you constantly. will get sulky if you don’t hold his hand when you go out.

much like xavier i don’t think he would enjoy working out. but if you need to go to the gym to train he’ll sit on a yoga ball beside your treadmill and talk your ear off. he’ll spot you on the machines but won’t go near anything. he will offer to sit on your back as you do push-ups though. you decline.

nsfw

probably a switch but after seeing his tipsy invitation and ebb and flow scenes he’s giving he prefers to be on the bottom. probably bratty at the beginning but according to the cards he gives in pretty easily, letting mc tie him up and referring to you as master likeeee. i feel like he just wants you to enjoy it more than he wants to enjoy it. gets off at seeing you get off type of deal.

he’s giving pillow princess vibes but if you ask he’ll give you the same treatment but tease you the entire time tbh he’s sooo bratty but i can’t see him being a hard mean dom. like he’ll give into you but make you work for it. edging kink all the way

“hmm, should i stop? i can’t let you finish this quick.”

“wow i didn’t know you were so sensitive here.”

“i haven’t even used my fingers yet and you’re already this wet.”

100% down to try any sex toy can you imagine him buying some sort of tentacle dildo as a joke cus he’s a mermaid but then you end up actually using it on him one night

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x mc #rafayel x gender neutral reader #rafayel headcanons #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace headcanon #love and deepspace headcanons

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matchingbatbites · 8 months ago

Text

somehow we're here

Explicit | 6.5k | Modern AU | Full Tags + Read on Ao3

Steve only downloaded the app because he was drunk.

At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself in the morning, once he’s back in the light of day and not half-gone on a few fruity cocktails and multiple shots of tequila - at least three, though it’s realistically more like five or six. Nevermind that he’s been home for almost an hour at this point, is only still awake because of the vague nausea still rolling in his stomach.

It had been incredibly easy to set up an account, even in his drunken state - something he thinks might be a feature and not a bug - and he’s been scrolling on it for about ten minutes when he realizes-

He’s still bored.

Because that had been the real reason, hadn’t it?

Steve is bored. Bored of first dates that seem to go nowhere, of relationships that seem to fizzle out after a few weeks, and for whatever reason, Tequila Steve seems convinced that a gay dating app would be a fun thing to sign up for. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s just bored and kind of horny and definitely not lonely and desperate.

So Steve flips through profiles, taking in photos of the same waifish boys and beefy gym bros. He’s just about ready to give up and try to sleep through the nausea, when he stumbles across a profile that makes him stop cold.

The photo looks like it’s from a concert or something; the guy is on a stage, clearly mid-show, with a wicked looking guitar in his hands. Steve’s eyes get caught on those hands, the veins and the painted nails and the chunky, silver rings.

His hair is a riot of dark curls haloed by the stage lights, and Steve regrets that he isn’t able to see the man’s face. He focuses instead on his clothes, the black t-shirt and ripped jeans, his exposed forearms littered with black ink.

The photo is so honest. It’s pure, simple emotion and Steve is instantly drawn in, eager to know more about this person.

The next photo is closer, clearly cropped down from a larger picture, and Steve gets his first good look at the man’s beautiful face. Deep, chocolate eyes that house a delighted sparkle, a blinding smile that sets loose a swarm of butterflies in Steve’s stomach. Not to mention the piercings; two just below his lower lip and another through his eyebrow - Steve briefly wonders if he has more, maybe his tongue or his nipples - fuck, that would be so hot.

In the last photo the man is seated on a couch, holding an acoustic guitar this time, and he seems focused on whatever he’s playing, clearly unaware of the camera-person at all. Those brown curls are pulled into an updo, revealing ears littered with even more silver jewelry, and there’s a cute little crinkle between his brows that Steve wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Steve scrolls down to actually read the guy’s profile, and sees that his name is Eddie. He’s 27 and local to the area, he likes metal music and D&D, and he definitely seems to check a lot of Steve’s boxes. Nerdy? Yeah. Hot? Fuck yeah. Confident? If the concert photo is anything to go by, this man has confidence coming out his ass. So yeah, check there too.

He adds the guy without hesitation, and will once again blame Tequila Steve for what’s next once he’s sober. He sends Eddie a message.

‘Hi, i’m straight, i literally just got this app cause im kinda bord and kinda drunk. But you’re actually my type. Can I be honest?’

Steve doesn’t really expect an immediate response, considering that it’s two in the morning and all, so he decides to flip over to a different app, already knowing that he isn’t really going to care about anyone else he might come across. He’s surprised when only a couple of minutes later, he gets back a simple ‘Sure lmao’, and scrambles to flip back over to the messenger.

‘I didint think i’d message anyone on here but your cute and hnestly i geuss i kinda like that you won’t get pregnant.’

He decides to wait this time, to see if he’ll get another quick response, and he holds his breath when the typing indicator pops up, only to disappear again. It does this a couple of times, like Eddie is writing and pausing, or erasing and starting over, and Steve just waits, so curious to know what the other man is going to say.

‘Are you free tomorrow? I need to know if you’re as adorably endearing when you’re sober.’

Steve gasps in delight. Eddie wants to meet him! He kicks his feet a little in excitement and messages back ‘I can be as endering as you want me to be baby.’ It takes him a second to realize he hadn’t actually answered Eddie’s question, and he sends a follow up ‘Yes i am free tomorow.’

‘Meet me at Hank’s on 6th? 7pm?’

He confirms the time and place, and even as giddy as he is, Steve’s barely able to exchange a few more messages before he’s out like a light.

Steve wakes up the next morning with a headache. It’s nowhere near the level of one of his migraines, but it’s enough to be annoying as he gets up and starts his day. He’s thankful it’s Saturday, that all he really has to worry about are some errands and brunch with Robin.

A quick shower and a cup of coffee has him feeling more alive, but meeting up with Robin makes him feel better than anything else could. She looks about as bad as he does, which is interesting considering that she didn’t even come with him to the club last night.

They chatter on for a while, with Steve letting her rant again about the situation she finds herself in (she refuses to drop Vickie even though the girl bounces between her on-again-off-again boyfriend and Robin like a fucking ping pong ball, and she also refuses to admit her growing feelings for Chrissy, her roommate turned friend with benefits. It’s a whole mess.)

She asks about his own dating life, and he honestly has nothing new to report. He’d gone out last night intending to at least find someone to take home, but once he actually got into the scene, the effort just didn’t seem worth it for a temporary fix.

Instead he drank, and he danced with strangers until the room started to spin, and then he made his way home. He’d had fun, even though he'd ended his night alone. Robin hums and pours another drink from the pitcher between them - White Peach Sangria this week, and it’s good, though Steve prefers the Bloody Mary they had last time.

“We're kind of pathetic, huh?”

“I mean, you are,” Steve replies, and shrugs when she gives an affronted Hey! “I might be single, but you're the one who's letting a great girl slip through your fingers because you can’t say no to your fickle ex.”

“She’s not fickle-”

“Where was she last night?” Steve asks, staring Robin down until she says “With me.”

“Mhm. And where is she now?”

Robin frowns hard and grumbles “With Jack.”

Steve gives her a look, and she sinks down a little in her seat.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you were friends with the mean girls in high school, and then you hit me with that fucking Carol Perkins face and it all comes flooding back,” she says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Stop being a drama queen, and stop waiting for Vickie to change her mind about Jack. It’s not fair for her to come running to you every time they have a fight if she has no intention of actually leaving him for you. You deserve better, Rob.”

Robin groans and drains the last of her glass. “When did you get so wise and shit?”

“Fuck you,” Steve says, no heat behind it as he kicks her under the table. “I know how relationships work and shit. You’re the one who doesn’t listen to me.”

She kicks him back with a “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s finish this pitcher so I can go home and wallow.”

The notification comes in after brunch, once he and Robin have parted ways and Steve’s just parked at the grocery store (he doesn’t take Robin with him to the store anymore, for both of their sakes).

‘Hey, just want to make sure we’re still good for tonight?’

Tonight? What’s tonight?

It takes him a moment to remember his actions from the night before, to remember the app. Steve’s stomach flips at the vague memory of a conversation and he opens the messenger. He scrolls up, reading his message history with this Eddie person, and oh god.

Is it possible to get secondhand embarrassment from your own actions? Your very drunk and somewhat horny actions? The guy seemed to take it pretty well, at least, and Steve taps over to his profile out of curiosity.

And yeah, okay, Tequila Steve had a point. He’s never thought about dating a guy before, but this man is hot, just absolutely sexy in a way Sober Steve isn’t prepared for. He had been planning on telling this Eddie guy that he was drunk when he agreed to meet, that he wasn’t interested, but now that would be a lie. Because he’s definitely interested.

He sends a ‘Yup! Still good :)’ and then quickly follows it with ‘I was so drunk last night that I kind of forgot about our conversation, so I’m glad you messaged me!’

Eddie’s reply takes a second, that starting and stopping going on just long enough to make Steve nervous before a message comes through.

‘Oh damn! I’m glad I did too. Though you did tell me last night that you’re straight, so I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to meet anymore. I know alcohol can make us do things we normally wouldn’t.’

Oh, he’s sweet. Steve actually does decide to think about it, and flips back over to Eddie’s profile as he does. He goes through the photos again, imagines what it would be like to be close, be intimate with Eddie the way he has with women. It doesn’t scare him the way he thinks it should, because he doesn’t actually think it would be that different. Sex is just sex, right? It’s the person that makes it fun, makes it special. And Eddie definitely seems like a special one.

What reaffirms Steve’s decision is the last photo, where Eddie is holding the acoustic. His eyes catch again on those ringed fingers, on the rough, clearly hand cut neckline of Eddie’s shirt. He thinks about what it would be like to lick the jut of Eddie’s exposed collar bone, and the shiver that runs down his spine has him immediately flipping back to the conversation.

‘I definitely still want to meet. As embarrassing as I was last night, I was telling the truth.’

‘Oh good! Nice to know that sober Steve also thinks I’m cute and is glad I can’t get pregnant.’

Steve groans and drops his head onto the steering wheel a few times. He's never gonna live that one down, is he?

Another message comes through before he can be too mortified, though he almost regrets looking when he sees ‘Unless sober Steve is more upset by that than glad’ which is followed rapidly by ‘It’s okay baby, we can always pretend if you want ;)’

This man is gonna fucking kill Steve.

Hank's on 6th is a little dive bar that Steve has actually been to a few times, when he and Robin had wanted to go drinking but hadn’t wanted to deal with the noise and bustle of the club. It’s cozy compared to other bars in the area, and Steve is happy for the familiarity of the location as he steps inside. He pauses inside the door and glances around, looking for- oh.

Sitting at a nearby table is Eddie, in the flesh. He’s even more stunning in person, with his hair pulled up into a bun, showing off the jewelry in his ears and the long line of his neck. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, and Steve can see a leather jacket slung over the back of his chair.

Eddie spots Steve about the same time and waves, inviting him over. He does his own once-over as Steve approaches, and Steve knows what he looks like. He spent long enough in front of the mirror agonizing over his appearance, making sure everything was perfect. His red sweater is comfortable even though it’s a smidge too small, and he can see Eddie’s eyes catch on the way it stretches across his shoulders, on his forearms where he’s rolled the sleeves up.

“Not gonna lie,” Eddie says as Steve sits down. “I’m kind of surprised you showed up.”

“I said I would. Tequila Steve might not be the smartest, but sometimes he has good ideas.”

Eddie laughs and Steve is overwhelmed with the desire to dig his thumb into the dimple that appears in the man’s cheek. “Well I hope I get the chance to thank him someday.”

Eddie’s photos don’t do him justice, don’t properly convey the energy he has. They get on better than Steve would have imagined, and while the conversation lulls every now and then, it never truly stops. His piercings catch the light, pulling Steve's attention down to his mouth, to the way it moves while Eddie speaks. It’s distracting, and the teasing smile Eddie wears for the conversation tells Steve that he knows.

Steve learns that Eddie works at an assisted living facility, something he never would have guessed based on the man’s appearance. It’s not a job Eddie ever expected to have, but he loves it, loves helping people who need it and gossiping with the old biddies that have taken a shine to him. In exchange Steve talks about his job as a physical therapist, how he recently started his experiential hours so he can specialize in pediatrics.

(“I feel kind of dumb now,” Eddie says. “Knowing that you’re a whole ass doctor and I just have a CNA.”

“Eddie, I majored in kinesiology. You’re probably better in a medical setting than I ever will be.”)

They talk about their hobbies and interests, pleased to learn there’s a little bit of crossover with everything. They may not know the ins and outs, but Steve has absorbed some knowledge on D&D thanks to the kids he used to babysit, and Eddie likes to watch sports with his uncle to keep him company on his off days.

They sit and talk for a long while, completely unaware of the time passing until Steve looks at his watch and realizes it’s been nearly four hours since they sat down.

“Holy shit, it’s almost eleven,” he says, and Eddie blinks in surprise. “Oh wow, I had no idea.”

It’s like they’ve been snapped back into reality, and Steve notices the half dozen beer bottles littering their table along with the bill that’s been there for who knows how long. Steve pays the check - nearly shoves his card into the server’s hand so he can beat Eddie to it - and they both leave cash for the tip before heading out of the bar.

It’s outside Hank’s that the hesitation sets in. This is one of the best dates Steve has been on in a long, long time, and he really isn’t ready for it to be over. He thinks Eddie feels the same, if the way he reaches over to thread their fingers together means anything.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Steve asks, practically on impulse, and Eddie smiles.

“I would love to, Stevie.” He takes a breath like he wants to say something else, but pauses, and Steve squeezes his hand gently.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to tell you that I want to have sex with you without sounding like a slut who puts out on the first date.”

Well, that’s fair. Steve doesn’t usually have sex on the first date either. He likes the connection that comes with knowing someone emotionally before learning them physically, but there’s just something about Eddie. Steve feels like he knows the man inside and out after just four hours together, and he knows it’s fast but he wonders what it would feel like to wake up next to him in the morning.

Steve just grins at the blunt honesty and tugs Eddie closer. “If you’re a slut then so am I, because I’m definitely down for that.”

The drive back to Steve’s place doesn’t take long, and before he knows it he’s locking the door behind them as Eddie sheds his leather jacket. He drapes it over the back of the couch as he looks around, taking in Steve’s apartment. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable, cozy, very different from the sterile house Steve grew up in.

Eddie smiles as he sees the trinkets dotted about, a mix of gifts from the kids Steve used to babysit and his own little knick knacks, but pauses when he sees a photo collage of Steve and Robin on the nearby wall. Steve doesn’t like the way his smile dips down into a frown, and he walks over to wrap his arm around Eddie’s waist.

“That’s Robin,” he says as he pulls Eddie into his side, needing to quell any doubts or misconceptions he might be having. “She’s my best friend in the entire world, and a lesbian, so you can stop pouting now.”

Eddie gives him a bit of a side-eye and says “Not pouting. Just want to make sure you’re not doing this behind the back of an unsuspecting girlfriend or something.”

Steve smiles at the consideration and shakes his head as he turns Eddie to face him. “No girl, Eds, I promise. Just you and me.”

Something about that seems to be the final straw for Eddie because he surges forward, hands landing on Steve's neck as he leans up to press their mouths together.

The first kiss with Eddie is easy. It’s not earth-shattering or life changing, not like Steve thought it would be kissing a man for the first time. It feels like a normal kiss, and honestly that’s more of a comfort to Steve than anything. The fact that it’s Eddie on the other side of the kiss is what makes him shudder, makes him press closer.

Eddie’s hands push up into his hair, messing up the styling as Steve dips his head to kiss along his jaw. He hums into smooth skin and slides his own hands down to Eddie’s ass, squeezing it briefly before using his grip to drag Eddie’s hips against his own.

He can feel the line of Eddie’s dick through the layers of denim and yeah, that’s different, but not bad at all. Steve warms up to it pretty quickly actually, especially once Eddie starts moaning into his ear, a low “Fuck, baby,” that only encourages Steve to continue. Their mouths meet in another kiss as Steve grinds their hips together, each thrust working to drive Steve absolutely insane.

Eddie’s hands eventually make their way south to ruck up Steve’s sweater, and he breaks the kiss just enough to mutter “Off, get this off,” against Steve's mouth.

Steve laughs but steps back, pulls off his top and drops it carelessly to the floor. Eddie groans and reaches out, not even hesitating before he pushes his hands into Steve’s chest hair. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw your photo last night,” he mutters, and it takes Steve a moment to remember the picture he’d drunkenly added to his profile.

It was just a typical shirtless thirst shot he’d taken before a run one day (though he had put a shirt on before he actually left, thank you), because he’d felt good about the way he looked - and clearly Eddie had appreciated the picture as well. Steve shudders as Eddie scrapes his nails down his chest, and he half-expects Eddie to start purring in delight.

“Is it as good as you imagined?” he asks, biting back a chuckle, and Eddie nods.

“Better than. So fuckin’ hot. Don't ever shave it, I beg you.”

Steve does laugh at that. He lets Eddie get his fill for a moment before swooping in to kiss him again. He slips his fingers into Eddie’s belt loops and mutters a “Bed?” against his mouth. Eddie hums in agreement and Steve tugs him along, guiding him to the bedroom and only stopping once to grind their hips together.

He steps back enough to pull off Eddie’s shirt and groans because his nipples are pierced, and fuck if that isn’t doing something for Steve. Thumbing over one makes Eddie shiver and gasp, and he knows that he needs to get his mouth on them as soon as possible. He feels like a predator as he pushes Eddie back, not stopping until the man is sprawled across his bed, a beautiful feast meant just for him.

Steve crawls on top of Eddie and presses his lips to the spider decorating his shoulder before moving down to lick over his nipple. Eddie shudders and pushes his hands into Steve's hair, holding him in place as Steve seals his mouth around the pink bud. The piercing is warm, and the stark contrast between metal and flesh has Steve groaning into Eddie's skin.

He sucks on it, earning a stuttering moan from the man under him and hands tightening in his hair. “Fu-uck, Stevie.” Steve thumbs over the other nipple and pinches it just to hear him gasp again, before continuing his journey southwards, pressing kisses into the tattoos he comes across along the way. He pauses for a moment to suck a bruise into Eddie’s hip, just above his waistband, and the man is practically squirming.

“God, when I agreed to come over, I didn’t think you were gonna be this much of a tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bites into the bruise he just created, pulling a low groan from Eddie. “It’s called foreplay, you ass.”

“I’d rather you foreplay my ass,” Eddie mutters, and Steve laughs into smooth skin. He does concede, though, and pulls back so he can slide off Eddie’s jeans and underwear, discarding them to the floor. Eddie’s dick is pretty, a smidge thinner than his own but just as long, and weeping heavily from the pink tip. Steve wants to touch it, taste it, wants to feel the weight of it on his tongue as Eddie fucks his mouth.

“Feel free to touch it, not just look at it,” Eddie says, and Steve smirks.

“Normally I would, but someone wanted me to skip the foreplay.”

Eddie groans dramatically in response and Steve ignores him as he reaches over into the nightstand to grab the lube and a condom. He drops the items next to Eddie, and the man gives an “Oh shit!” as he grabs the tube. “You actually have lube?”

“Uh, I'm a grown man, Eddie. Not some 15-year-old that still uses lotion to jack off.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smacks the bottle against Steve's chest. “Twenty-four hours ago you told me you were straight, excuse me for making some assumptions.”

“Stereotypical assumptions,” Steve tacks on and Eddie rolls his eyes again harder. “Also you might be surprised to learn this, but some women also enjoy anal, so I'm not actually a complete newbie when it comes to this.”

“And here I was thinking I'd have to hold your hand through the whole thing.”

Steve huffs a laugh and slicks up his fingers. “Oh, do you not want to hold hands while I fuck you into the mattress?”

Eddie gasps and brings a hand to his forehead, like a mockery of some swooning maiden as he says “Why Stevie, I think that's the most romantic thing you've said so- ohhh my god.” He groans as Steve pushes the finger deeper, and kicks his shoulder gently when Steve just grins.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie spits, but Steve can tell there's no real heat behind it. He just hums, says “I dunno what you're talking about,” as he slides a second in alongside the first. He hooks his free hand under Eddie’s knee and pushes it closer to his chest, exposing him a bit more.

Steve leans down to press a kiss to Eddie’s neglected dick and curls his fingers at the same time, trying to hit Eddie’s prostate. He knows he’s successful when hands jerk down, sinking into his hair once more as Eddie keens.

“Shit, Stevie-!”

“Wanna suck you off next time. Wanna pin your hips to the bed and see how much I can take, wanna tease you until you come on my face, in my mouth.”

Eddie shudders and nods, bucks his hips as best he can with Steve’s fingers in him. “Oh fuck, yes. Gonna let me paint your face, baby? Gonna let me be the first cock to fuck that pretty mouth?”

Steve groans a “Fuck yeah, Eds,” and pushes in a third finger, eager to finish his prep but not wanting to rush. He spreads his fingers wide as he leans in again, sinking his teeth into the junction where thigh meets groin, and Eddie's entire body jerks at the bit of pain.

He tugs at Steve's hair, trying to pull him up as he says “Fuck! That's gotta be good enough, need you in me fucking last week, sweetheart.”

Steve shudders and nods with a “Yeah, baby,” as he pulls his fingers free. He stands up and strips off his remaining clothes, not worrying about where they land before he climbs back between Eddie's legs. He can feel Eddie watching as he rolls on the condom, and he's about to make a remark about it when the man says “You know what kind of sucks?”

Steve just hums in response as he scoots closer, until his thighs are pressed against Eddie's ass and all he has to do is push forward just a little more-

“That we’ll have to get tested before we can put my ability to not get pregnant to good use.”

A groan rips through Steve and he drops his head back at the mental image that creates. “Fuck, you can’t just say that.”

Eddie grins, all Cheshire and taunting as he says “Oh, I can’t? I can’t tell you how excited I am for you to come in me, to fill up my ass until I’m fucking leaking- mmh!”

Steve dives down to shut him up with a kiss before he can say anything else, and he can feel Eddie laughing into it. Arms wrap around Steve’s shoulders, holding him close as they take a moment to just make out, all slick and languid like they're not both on the verge of desperation. Steve wraps a hand around his dick and blindly rubs the head against Eddie’s hole before he finally pushes forward.

Even after prep, Eddie is tight, and Steve groans as he slowly sinks in, not stopping until his hips are flush with Eddie’s ass. He rubs his hands over Eddie’s sides as he just waits there, giving the man a chance to adjust. It only takes a moment before Eddie gives a soft “Okay, I'm good,” and Steve holds good on his word. He leans forward, lacing his fingers with Eddie's and pressing them into the bed as he starts a slow pace.

Eddie goes all starry-eyed as he glances at their joined hands, and mutters “Didn't think you were serious about that.”

“I don't joke about hand holding, Eds. It's very important.” That pulls a soft laugh from Eddie and Steve leans closer until he can kiss that smile, can taste the laugh at its source.

It's hands down the best sex Steve has ever had. Eddie is so responsive, all noisy and twitchy and eager. He quickly figures out what Steve likes and doesn't even attempt to keep his mouth shut, just offers a stream of encouragement that’s only broken when Steve finds and abuses that sweet spot inside him.

“Right there, Eddie? Is that it, baby?”

“Uh-huh, fuck, so good!”

Eddie's a fucking vision, with his brown curls slowly escaping the confines of the bun and his eyes glazed over in pleasure. Steve releases Eddie's hands and slides his own down to clutch at the man's slim waist, his fingers digging into the tattoos decorating his skin. He fantasizes about leaving bruises, about leaving his own mark alongside the black ink and fucks into him harder at just the idea.

“Shit, Stevie! Gonna come, gonna-”

Eddie gets a hand around his dick and barely gets in a few strokes before he’s coming, a loud “Fuckfuckfuck!” escaping him as he spills over his hand and onto his stomach. It’s so fucking hot, and Steve’s hands tighten around Eddie's waist at the sight. His thrusts are a bit wild as he chases his own orgasm, and all it takes is Eddie's reedy “In me, Steve, give it to me-” before it hits him like a fucking truck.

He doesn't remember the last time he came this hard, his hips grinding against Eddie's ass as he fills the condom before eventually collapsing down onto the other man. They just lay there for a moment, waiting for their highs to settle and their breathing to return to normal, and Steve smiles when Eddie starts to giggle.

“What's that about?” he asks, using the opportunity to press a few kisses along the line of Eddie's shoulder and neck. The man just grins and shakes his head.

“I haven't bottomed in like- three years. Forgot how good it feels.”

That surprises Steve a bit, actually. “Three years? And you just break that streak for some random person you met on the internet?”

“Mhm. You sent me those messages and I was like ‘Wow, I can't believe I'm gonna let this guy fuck me’.”

Steve laughs and nips at Eddie's shoulder. After a few minutes he carefully pulls out and reluctantly leaves Eddie on the bed as he goes to the bathroom to trash the condom and grab a wet hand towel. He cleans Eddie up before tossing the cloth to the floor and laying down beside him. He's instantly wrapped up in Eddie's arms and he sighs happily as they huddle close together.

“Stay the night? I'll make you breakfast in the morning,” Steve offers, and Eddie hums into his temple.

“With coffee?”

“With coffee.”

Another hum before Eddie nuzzles into his hair, and Steve can feel Eddie press a kiss to the crown of his head. “Then I'd love to stay the night, Stevie.”

Steve wakes up slowly the next morning. The sun shining through the window bathes the room in golden light, making Eddie look ethereal where he lays curled into Steve’s side. He takes a moment to just watch the man, to admire the relaxed lines of Eddie’s face as he slumbers on, unaware.

He doesn’t know the last time he felt a connection with someone this- profound.

Actually, no - the last time this happened was probably with Robin, the girl who became something closer to him than a sister, the one person who probably knows him better than he knows himself. Being with Eddie feels so similar to those early days with Robin - after they’d gotten locked in the bathroom during a mall fire, not the actual early days when Robin seemingly hated him.

So Steve knows deep in his soul that there’s something about Eddie. Something so special ingrained into his very existence, and Steve’s sure that, if he just gives it a chance, Eddie could change his life.

After a few more minutes of basking in the morning silence, he tries to slip out of bed without waking Eddie, but he knows he’s failed when the arms just tighten around him. Eddie groans out a “Noooo,” and Steve grins. He presses a kiss to Eddie’s hair and says “Gotta let me go if you want me to make your coffee.”

A muffled “Man of my dreams,” as Eddie releases him has Steve chuckling as he climbs out of bed. He throws on a pair of sweatpants and heads downstairs, and puts on some coffee before he does anything else. By the time Eddie joins him, dressed only in his boxers from the night before, the coffee is ready and Steve is stacking pancakes onto a couple of plates.

Eddie seems more awake as he wraps his arms around Steve, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder along with a soft “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning, baby. Coffee’s on the counter, sugar’s in the jar and milk is in the fridge if you want it.”

Another kiss meets his skin, this one just below his ear, before Eddie is pulling away. Steve finishes plating the pancakes while Eddie makes his coffee, and they converge at the kitchen island. They eat mostly in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. It's easy, actually, to let the quiet settle around them like a warm blanket. But that doesn't mean Steve's thoughts aren't racing.

“So, uh.” Steve pauses, feels almost bashful as he looks up at Eddie. “It's been a really, really long time since I've felt a connection like this, and I may be a little dumb, but I'm not an idiot.” Eddie frowns at Steve's little self deprecating dig, but doesn't say anything as he continues. “I really want to see where this goes, if you're up for it.”

A slow grin breaks out on Eddie's face and he leans in, getting into Steve's personal space. “Why Stevie. Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? After only one date?”

Steve huffs a laugh and slides a hand up to the base of Eddie's neck, feeling and tangling his fingers with the soft hair there. “I’d ask you right now to move in if it wouldn't make me look fucking insane.”

Eddie's expression instantly goes slack with shock, and fuck, Steve's done it again, hasn't he? Said too much, too soon, and lost something good before it even had a chance to go anywhere. He starts to pull away, wanting to give Eddie some space, but he's stopped by two hands settling on his waist, practically clutching the bare skin.

“My lease is up for renewal in three months,” Eddie says, and Steve blinks in surprise. “So maybe at that point we can see where we are? Because you're right. I don't think I've ever just clicked with someone like this before. It feels like- like fucking destiny or something. And I also really, really want to see where this goes.”

Steve gives in to the urge to pull Eddie forward into a kiss. It’s intense and passionate and a bit sticky, the maple syrup making their lips tacky and causing Eddie to giggle into Steve's mouth.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Steve’s phone ringing with a video call, and he knows who it is before he even looks at the device. He answers with a “Morning, Robin,” and is met with a manic “You’ll never guess what happened this morning!”

“I would hope something with Chrissy, but I’m guessing it’s something with Vickie-”

“Vickie called! Jack fucking proposed to her last night!”

Oh shit. “And she said..?”

“They’re on good terms right now, so of course she said yes!”

Steve takes a sip of coffee and hums. “Sounds like it’s time for you to put on some big girl panties and ask Chrissy out on a real date.”

“Steven, you know I hate that word.”

“I will record it and set it as your ringtone if you don’t make some kind of move, Robin. Before Chrissy gets tired of waiting for you to make a decision and makes one herself.”

She groans pathetically and Steve watches her scrub a hand over her face. “I hate it when you make sense. Can we stop talking about me, please? Distract me with something else.”

“Oh, well, uh,” Steve glances up at Eddie who has been watching the interaction with an amused smile. His heart swells with affection and he blurts out “I have a boyfriend.”

Eddie beams at him as Robin blinks, most likely processing before she says “You just told me yesterday that your dating life was practically nonexistent, and now you have a boyfriend? How did that happen?? And moreover, how long have you liked men??”

She sounds incredulous - rightfully so, honestly - and Steve shrugs. “At least twenty-four hours, but it could realistically be closer to something like thirty-six. I downloaded a dating app the night before last and met Eddie on it. We went on a date last night, he stayed over, and I asked him to be my boyfriend this morning.”

“You asked me to move in this morning,” Eddie says, and Robin must catch it because she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You’re gonna put every U-haul lesbian in this city to shame,” she mutters before looking at Steve again. “Are you not like- freaking out? I mean, in the near decade I’ve known you, you’ve only dated girls, and now you’re dating a guy? Just like that?”

Steve shrugs and reaches out to take one of Eddie’s hands. “I guess so. You know I’ve always been a roll with the punches kinda guy. And Eddie is- Special. He’s special.”

Eddie is looking at him with those big, brown eyes, wide and a bit awestruck, and Steve can’t resist reeling him close for a quick kiss.

“I am so happy for you,” Robin says, pulling Steve’s attention back to his phone, “but also incredibly upset because now I know I have to follow your advice about Chrissy. Which is just absolutely terrifying.”

“You should have been listening from the beginning. Seriously though, go get your girl, Rob. You deserve to be happy.”

They say their goodbyes after another moment and Steve focuses back on Eddie. “Did you have anything to do today?” he asks as he collects their empty plates and takes them to the sink. Eddie follows, draining the last of his coffee before he replies “Not today. Why, did you have something to do?”

Steve grins and takes Eddie’s mug, setting it on the counter before he scoops the man into his arms. “Other than you?”

Eddie barks a laugh at the line and shakes his head fondly. “Jesus Christ, how did I get my hands on such a dork?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Steve replies, and tugs Eddie into another sticky kiss.

Much love to @bramble-berries for brainstorming this with me! (Even if she didn't know it at the time lol.) Also thank you to @sidekick-hero for cheerleading me through the last bit of writing on this! You're an absolute dear! <3

#steddie #mentioned rockie and buckingham #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #people who subscribe on ao3 got this fic 6 hours early #just saying #joey writes

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silverb0wties · 21 days ago

Text

Lemonade - Part 3

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah. But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: You go back to school and you try and make yourself useful

Warnings: bullying, homophobia, misogyny

|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||

PART 3

“30 days has September, April, June and November…”

You had set yourself the task today to make yourself a calendar. Maths had never been your strongest subject in school, but you were excellent at remembering, so you knew the month song off by heart and were mumbling it to yourself as you began digging into your desk draw to retrieve some art supplies.

The decision to make the calendar had hit you last night when you were reading one of your new library books before bed and the return receipt slipped out of the back cover and onto your lap. Normally, it was the very first thing you retrieved when you got home from the library, making sure to mark the return dates down on your big white board calendar on the fridge. But you were still getting used an entirely new routine in your new house and you’d completely forgot to look for the slip.

Now that you had it though, you had to make sure you noted down the dates somewhere you could easily see them. So, with a few pieces of paper, a ruler and some markers, you drew up a calendar for the next few months. By checking the borrow date on the receipt and counting how many days it had been since your library visit, you managed to figure out what todays date was. From there, and with the help of that handy month song, you’d managed to fill in the rest of the dates.

When it was all completed you stepped back to examine your work. If you were honest with yourself, your lines could have been drawn straighter and your handwriting could have been much, much neater. But you didn’t have the energy to redo it, so it would have to do. For now.

You surveyed your room for someone to put it. In your old house your calendar was on the fridge, out in the open for everyone to see and help you keep track of. Here, it needed to be hidden from your Aunties, so that it was your responsibility, and your responsibility alone, to make sure you were staying on top of everything.

Everything.

A wave of guilt crashed over you as you remembered all the other things you would keep track of on your calendar. Now that you were a big girl, you had been helping around the house and you had chores. You would set the table and help take the cups and plates and spoons out of the dish washer (only Mummy and Daddy could touch the knives). You would also check for mail every morning and there was a pretty purple watering can you got use to water the flowers in the front garden a couple of times a week.

But you didn’t do any of that here at your Aunties house.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

Part of you worried that your Aunties didn’t trust you enough to ask you to help out around the house. Perhaps they thought you weren’t smart enough or strong enough or big enough to lend a hand. Or maybe they were secretly mad that you hadn’t insisted on helping and were keeping a top-secret list of all the times you didn’t help out and they would present it to you on a big, long scroll on the day they kicked you out their house.

You shuddered at the thought of that. That was a day you thought about often. You didn’t know how many days or weeks or months it was until the baby was here, but surely your time here at your Aunties house was running out. You needed to do everything in your power to be good until then so that they didn’t kick you out any sooner.

That night before tea, you made sure to wash your hands extra good before heading into the kitchen where your Aunty Lessi was cooking.

“Aunty Lessi, could I set the table?”

“Oh sure! If you’d like. Just give me a moment and I’ll show you where everything is.”

You grinned in silent satisfaction, glad that it seemed like your Aunty wasn’t outright opposed to you proving your worth. After your Aunty Lessi finished with whatever she was stirring on the stove, she led you over to various cupboards and drawers and pointed out where the placemats, plates and cutlery lived. Whilst there were a few plastic cups in the same cupboard as the plates for you to use, the glasses your Aunties drank out of were on a higher shelf that were too high for you to reach.

“Don’t worry about those, I can grab them” she insisted.

“I could get a chair or something to stand on?”

“Don’t be silly, Bun Bun. I’ll get them. Thank you for getting everything else though.”

Silly. Silly. Silly.

Once you were all sat down for dinner, you watched your Aunty Lessi spin spaghetti around her fork before you took a deep breath in and began.

“Did I do okay at setting the table?”

“You did a great job, Bunny!” Your Aunty Leah was smiling big and bright at you. She had a bit of sauce on her chin, but you thought it would be rude to tell her.

“Do you think I could do it every night?” you asked.

“Uhh… I mean, if you want to, sure.”

Victory. One chore to add to the calendar.

“What about the post? Can I be in charge of checking that too? Does it come in the mornings?”

You observed as your Aunties caught eyes with each other across the table, seeming to have a silent conversation.

“Umm, yes I suppose you could do that if you like,” Aunty Lessi nodded.

“Great! And I can help empty the dishwasher. No knives of course, but I can do spoons and plates and bowls and cups and stuff. And maybe I can water some of your flowers, or all of them? Or I can learn how to do other stuff too. Like I could figure out how to do the laundry or clean the bathrooms or anything you want really…”

You hadn’t really realised, but you had pulled your knees up to your chest as your rant had gone on. Your head was now resting on top of them as you looked eagerly between your Aunties, waiting for their response. They were doing the silent conversation thing again.

“You don’t need to do all those things sweetheart. We appreciate you offering, but maybe we’ll wait until you’re a bit older to do things like the laundry and stuff, yeah?” your Aunty Lessi responded.

You felt your stomach drop. Your Aunty Lessi’s voice was kind, but you knew what her words meant. They didn’t think you were big enough to help.

“How about we start off with setting the table for tea and checking the mail? You’re still just settling in here, so we don’t wanna overload you with too much stuff to remember to do.”

It may have been bright and sunny outside, but today was a day you had been absolutely dreading. You had decided to hang your calendar on the back of your bedroom door so that nobody but you would see it, and you had made sure to mark this day with a bright red circle and big a sad face. Today was the day you were going back to school.

You weren’t sure how it was decided or who decided, but you’d had a couple of weeks away from school after the fire and now it was time to go back.

You had only been back at school for 3 weeks of the new school year before the fire happened, so your parents had only just bought you brand-new dresses and shoes to replace the previous ones you’d outgrown. Your pencil case had been filled with fresh crayons and sharp pencils, and you’d only just put a really cool new bunny sticker that your Uncle Gio had given you on your lunchbox. But now, you had to start all over again.

So today, as you sat in front office with your Aunties, you were wearing a brand-new school dress and shoes and socks and Aunty Lessi had done your hair in a pretty braid with some pretty ribbons. You also had a brand-new backpack and lunch box and pencil case, and you even had a brand-new iPad in a shiny purple case.

In theory, you were all set to go.

But just under the surface, just beneath the layer of hairspray and the stiff gingham fabric, you were absolutely dreading heading back to the big noisy classroom and scary, sticky playgrounds.

You didn’t have heaps of friends at school like most of the other kids seemed to have. You did have one good friend though. Nora. She also really liked to read and was super into comic books and superheros. You didn’t really understand why she liked them, but you were more than happy to listen to her when she wanted to tell you all about them. You would then tell her some cool bunny facts in return.

This year the school librarian, Mr Webster, had let you both work on a big jigsaw puzzle every lunchtime. He kept it safe and flat on a special piece of wood that he hid on top of his bookshelf in his office when you weren’t working on it. It was a really, really big puzzle with loads more pieces than any other puzzle either of you had ever done before. You were both determined to finish it before Christmas, but you weren’t sure if Nora had kept going while you were away. You hoped she had but you also secretly hoped there was still some pieces left for you to do.

Unlike previous years, Nora wasn’t in your class this year. You were in Mrs Green’s class, and she was in Miss Roberts’ class. You’d both written a letter to each teacher requesting to be swapped into each other’s class, but it hadn’t worked. You were stuck alone in the classes you were in, and honestly, you were miserable.

You see, it wasn’t that you didn’t have any other friends, that didn’t bother you much at all. It was the fact that a bunch of the other kids seemed to actively dislike you. In fact, the thing they seemed to like most in the whole world was picking on you. They called you names and pulled on your hair and threw things at you. You couldn’r really pinpoint exactly when it all started, but your first and most vivid memory was when Mitchell Timms had snatched your copy of The Worst Witch out of your hands one lunch time. He threw it in a muddy puddle and stomped on it until all the pages were torn and the words had jumbled together. When you ran over to try and save the book, a gift you’d received on your latest birthday, Mitchell just laughed at you and called you a “loser weirdo”.

For the first 3 weeks of school this year, you had been sat next to a boy named Ollie and it had been awful. He kept bumping your arm on purpose while you were trying to write and had laughed whenever you got frustrated that you had to erase and redo your mistakes. One time he had even pulled your chair out from underneath you when you went to sit down, leading you to land on your bottom on the floor with a thud. The whole class had pointed and laughed at you. You had run out of the classroom and hid under a bench to try and calm yourself down.

When the teacher came to find you, you were curled in a ball, rubbing your Pocket Arthur softly against your cheek. Pocket Arthur was your school buddy. When you’d moved up from Reception into Primary School, your parents had bought you a miniature version of Arthur that you could keep tucked away in your pocket. They said that now that you were going to big school, Arthur could no longer come along with you, but they wanted to make sure you still had a little buddy to always keep you company. So, he was your Pocket Arthur, or Pockie for short.

But he died in the fire too.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

So, on the night before you went back to school, you’d searched through your room, trying to find something to fill the big empty space left by Pockie when he died – the pocket of your school dress. You tried crumpling up a wad of tissues, but the texture of it was all wrong. Next you tried a balled-up pair of socks, but it felt scratchy when you tried rubbing it against your cheek. You looked over the stuffies your Aunties had bought you, but they were all far too big to fit in your pocket.

One of the stuffies caught your eye however as your dug through the little pile of toys. It was on the bottom of pile, and you hadn’t seen it since you moved here. It was a lovely and soft grey kangaroo, with pointy ears and a long tail. You rather liked kangaroos, because while they were a completely different species to bunnies and could only be found in the wild in Australia, they kind of reminded you of really big rabbits. As you pressed the soft fur to your cheek, something small fell in your lap. Picking it up, you realised it was a baby kangaroo. It must have fallen from the big kangaroo’s pouch. It was perfect. The perfect size, the perfect feel, the perfect squish. You rubbed it against your cheek. Bliss. Holding it gently in your little hands, you squinted your eyes and ran your thumbs across the soft fur trying to figure out the perfect name for your new pocket pal. Bailey. She seemed like a Bailey.

And it was Bailey who you clung to, you hand shoved deep in your pocket, when the Headteacher Mrs Brinley called you all into her office.

You watched as both your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah shook hands with Mrs Brinley and then you all sat down on big uncomfortable chairs across the table from her. You’d never been in her office before, so you took a moment to look around, noticing a bunch of certificates in big frames on the wall, a huge bookcase full of books and some photos of who you assumed were her family.

“Well, while we were very, very sad to hear about what has happened, we are glad that Y/K is back at school with us. Hopefully being back in class will help her with getting back to her regular routine and schedule and assist her in feeling more settled.”

Her voice wasn’t unkind, but everything she said always sounded like she’d been rehearsing for it like it was a speech she had to give in front of the whole school.

“We have both of your phone numbers, as well as the number for your workplace, and we will call you should there be any issues. But I’m sure Y/K will do just fine.”

Your Aunty Leah gently squeezed your hand that wasn’t firmly stuffed in your pocket, clinging onto Bailey for dear life.

“Mrs Green is going to meet you just back out in the front office and she will walk you up to class. So, unless anyone has any questions, I’ll let you all get to it.”

You all shuffled back out the front office, where your teacher was waiting for you. Aunty Lessi knelt down and gave you a big cuddle.

“Okay Bunny. You have fun on your first day back, alright? And if anything goes wrong, or you don’t feel good or you feel sad… you just let your teacher know to call us okay.”

Aunty Leah leaned over and gave you a kiss on the forehead and stroked your cheek. “You’ve got everything you need in your backpack, so you’re all set to go. You’ve got this.”

“Okay.”

“We love you.”

The walk to your classroom was mostly filled with your teacher telling you about all the things you’d missed while you’d been away from school. A little bubble of dread was beginning to build in your stomach as you realised all the work you now had to catch up on. But by lunchtime that bubble had been replaced by a boulder.

Holding your lunch box and book tight to your chest, you looked around the hall for a spare seat. Normally, you and Nora would sit together to eat your lunch and then go to the library, but to make a bad day even worse Nora was away from school today. You had spent a solid 5 minutes looking for her, but according to a student in her class she’d had to stay home because she a nasty tummy bug.

The hall was quickly filling up as students grabbed their hot meals or lunch boxes and sat down at their chosen tables. It quickly became apparent that the only spot left was one on the end of a table filled with some of the children who didn’t like you. You’d spent so long looking for Nora, you’d been left with no other option.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

With a deep breath, you headed over to the table. You sat quietly in the seat, hoping you would go unnoticed.

You didn’t.

“Why you sitting with us, Y/K? Isn’t there anyone else you can sit with?” Jessica asked as you unzipped your lunch box. You just shook your head in response. A chorus of grumbles followed from the rest of the kids sitting at the table.

“Eww yuck, why does she have to sit with us?”

“Where’s her weirdo friend?”

“Maybe she can sit on the floor instead.”

You just tried to tune them out, grabbing a sandwich out of your lunch box to munch on. Your first bite was interrupted when the boy sitting beside you, Max, nudged you.

“Hey, were those your new Mums who brought you into school today?”

You hastily swallowed your sandwich, wanting to explain. “They’re my-” It was no use. The group quickly began announcing their thoughts on the matter before you had a chance to correct them.

“Two Mums? How can someone have TWO Mums? That’s not right.”

“Yeah, my Dad says that it’s disgusting when two boys or two girls are married or kiss and stuff!”

“Oh yeah, like, have you ever saw two lads kiss? It’s weird!”

“I saw two ladies kissing when my Pop took me to the football last week. He said they were going straight to hell!”

“As if she wasn’t weird enough, now she’s got two Mums too!”

Something inside you snapped, and you found yourself with your fists clenched and your cheeks red, Bailey long forgotten in your pocket.

“Yeah, well, they’re not my Mums, they’re my Aunties. And they’re really nice and really clever and super cool. And they play football for England, and and for the red and white club with the cannon! And my Aunty Leah is the captain and everything! So that’s cooler than any of your families, ever!”

There was a short silence before they all started laughing.

“Girl’s football! That doesn’t count!”

“That’s not real football!”

“Arsenal! Pfffft.”

“I can’t wait to tell my Dad about this.”

“One of them looked pregnant when I saw them outside the office. There’s no way they let her play like that!”

“That’s why they shouldn’t let girls play!”

“Wait, how is she having a baby if there’s no Daddy to put the baby in her?”

Whilst the rest of the comments had begun to muddle together and fade into the background as you tuned them all out, this last one pierced through. Your head shot back in the direction of Jessica, the girl who had asked the question. She was looking straight at you with her eyes squinted, twirling a strand of her hair around her pointer finger.

You hadn’t ever stopped to think about this. To be honest you’d never really been interested in where babies came from. You knew that whilst it varied from breed to breed, bunnies were pregnant for an average of 31 days and had litters of babies. You also knew that humans usually only had one baby at a time and they were pregnant for around 9 months. But you didn’t know how either bunnies or humans became pregnant. Honestly, you were stumped.

“Guess you didn’t learn that in any of your stupid books, huh? Loser.”

#woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfic #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x alessia russo x reader #woso fic #woso x reader #alessia russo #leah williamson #lemonade

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itsonlydana · 10 months ago

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"I Didn't Know That I Was Starving Till I Tasted You" | hobbit

➛ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

➛ When you get stood up by your date all you want to do is morph with the couch, eat ice cream and watch Pride & Prejudice. It's a shame your roommate/best friend Thranduil doesn't agree with those plans.

➛ warnings/tags: modern!au, roommate!au, friends-to-lovers, chef!thranduil, swf, kissing

➛ words: 9,3k

➛ an: sooo let's ignore that i said i wasn't writing anymore <3 i'm still not taking request but i have a few fics that i'll post over the next few weeks!

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The sound of keys turning in the lock sounds through your apartment before the door opens and closes, making you wince.

The piano music playing through the expensive stereo system is loud enough that you could blame your reaction for not reacting to it. After a brief moment, a deep voice echoes from the hallway, marked by an incredulous "Huh?" and followed by an urgent "What?" accompanied by hurried footsteps.

"Hello?! What– what are you still doing here? You should be dressed up and in a cab by now!"

Your roommate and best friend Thranduil rushes into the living room, you can see his tall figure out of your peripheral vision.

Not that it would change where he stands.

You don't bother to turn around and continue to hide between the mountain of pillows and blankets you had accumulated on the couch, watching the movie playing on the big screen in front of you.

"Uhh– Mister Bingley arrived from the North," you comment on the happenings of the Bennets' house, a spoonful of ice cream held to your mouth.

Thranduil steps closer, dropping his coat and a bag on the wing chair next to the couch. "What–"

Instead of answering his question, you let the ice cream melt on your tongue, mumbling a "5000 a year?" with a mouth full of chocolate.

"Talk to me, woman!"

"He's single!" you sigh happily and throw a dramatic hand in the air.

Before you can lower it again, Thranduil snaps and snatches your hand, cold fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you towards him. Finally, you look up to him and are confronted with your very baffled-looking best friend.

"If you don't tell me why you aren't on the way to the fabulous third date with Marcus-"

"Jake."

Thranduil rolls his eyes at the interruption: "Fine, why aren't you on the third date with Jake right now and instead sulk on the couch watching Pride & Prejudice again? I thought we promised to take a break from watching it anyway."

You push out your lower lip, pouting. "I'm not sulking," you say in a tone so drawn out it completely defiles your statement. Thranduil doesn't say anything, he just lets his gaze slowly wander over the blankets you are buried under, to the half-eaten ice cream bucket to the TV where the Bennet sisters are currently caught eavesdropping on their parents' conversation. He doesn't need words to express himself, the judgment is silent in words but loud in the raise of his dark eyebrow.

"Fine," you groan, admitting defeat. "He canceled."

Thranduil's gaze softens as he sits down next to you on the edge of the sofa and he slowly drops your hand from his grip. "He canceled," he repeats, eyes falling back to the ice cream.

"He canceled," you confirm with a sigh "Just like I predicted- so I don't know why I even bothered to dress up. I even bought that stupid dress just because he wanted to go out to this new fancy Italian place. He canceled and because I waited 15 minutes for him to not show up, standing outside - in the cold might I add- I think I am allowed to sulk a little!"

In the end, you had talked yourself into quite a rage and fall back into the pillows, your arms crossed in front of your chest. "And no, you said I should take a break from watching that movie but since you are not my mother I am allowed to watch whatever!"

You pierce him with a glare but only for a moment before you deflate.

"Sorry for getting all bitchy there," you shuffle around, hands searching for the remote to stop the movie.

"It's alright," Thranduil says and cocks his head. "Now that you are done, am I allowed to go after him and nail his balls to the ground for standing you up?"

A smile tugs on your lips as you shake your head. "No, you are not. I'm sure he has his reasons." The reason wasn't spelled out in the message but after hopping around in the dating scene for a while now, you know what ´I'm sorry but I don't think we really fit. You are a great person though!´ means.

It was nothing new, though it hurt the same as it did the first time.

"Well, unless there was a sudden death in his family I don't see a reason why he couldn't have canceled before the date," he huffs "-you know like a normal person would do"

You shrug your shoulders. "It's done now. Maybe it just wasn't supposed to happen."

"No, it wasn't. Not with a guy like him," Thranduil shakes his head, the long braid of silver blonde hair getting even more disheveled by the movement. "You deserve a man that doesn't cancel, doesn't let you stand outside in the cold!"

"Yes," you sigh again, staring wistfully at the TV "my Mister Darcy."

"He was literally the reason why Elizabeth ran out into the rain and cold," Thranduil responds deadpanned and you throw a pillow in his direction which he elegantly catches.

"I will not stand for this Darcy-hate! Ugh, you are such a bad friend," you whine, "I got stood up and you are making fun of one of the two people who have never let me down.. one person now that you decided to be a meanie!" You once again pout.

This time it works, a little too well because suddenly Thranduil looks at you with that one look of him, the one that breaks through every defense you could build up. He looks at you like you just told him you were dying, all the compassion he can find in his otherwise cold heart spilling out of his cerulean eyes that wander over your face.

"You know you have every right to feel sad about the date not happening," he says carefully, tilting his head slightly in a way that oozes pity, "You were looking forward to it, you even bought a dress for it. Let me cheer you up, I can cook something for you and we can watch a movie later or we can go out and drink until I have to hold your hair in the bathrooms." He smiles softly, sincere and it makes you want to jump up from the couch and hide in your room.

You two didn't do sincere; you bantered, you made jokes on behalf of the other and you most certainly did not comfort each other after a failed date. Your friendship needed lightheartedness, it thrived on sarcasm and arguments about everything and anything that came to your minds.

But the offer is tempting, especially the cooking part. Thranduil is a chef, working in his own restaurant; 'The Green Leaf' and he did a damn good job at it. Most nights, like this one, he comes home and cooks for you because apparently, Goldfish crackers were not as good for your diet as one part of the name misled you to believe and even though you made fun of Thranduils diet as well, fully vegan and with a distaste for anything that made life worth living like chocolate ice cream, he knew exactly how to whip up a meal that had you salivating.

You stare him down, weighing your options. Option one was to remain on the couch where you would shovel the ice cream down until you would inevitably get sick, watching Pride & Prejudice and mourning the never-happening and probably very boring date you would’ve had.

Option two would entail a doubtlessly very delicious meal as well as the possibility of getting drunk as fuck in a bar.

The choice comes easy.

"Okay," you agree and raise a pointed finger at him as a victorious grin spreads on his lips "But-" you wiggle the finger "you will not do this out of pity because I do not need pity from a man!"

Thranduil's grin only seems to grow, lightening up his eyes "No of course not. No pity here. I promise!" He stands up from the couch in a hurry, grabbing the bag he had left on the chair. When you don't move except to reach for the remote again, he shakes his head. "Leave Mr. Darcy for another day, you have to change!"

"Change?" you ask bewildered, looking around the apartment. "I thought you were going to cook here and not at the restaurant. Why would I need to change now?"

Thranduil scoffs, turning his back to you to walk towards the kitchen, his voice growing louder as it's accompanied by the sound of the fridge opening.

"Because I know you spent the entire day planning your outfit. You said you bought a new dress and I will not cook you an entire meal for you to sit there in your sweatpants!" he calls out and you throw your head against the couch with a groan that has Thranduil leaning out of the kitchen door

"You want the food, you follow the chef's orders," he copies the raised finger in your direction "Don't be a brat, get your butt off the couch and into your room before I have to spank you! I'll call you when you can come out."

The threat is met with you sticking your tongue out and one second thinking you could defy the order but that is until he fakes a quick step back into the room and you peel the blankets away squeaking "I'm moving! I'm moving!" while stumbling through the living room. "Jeez"

Despite knowing he would never hurt you the thought of Thranduil spanking you has you blushing a ridiculous amount and you don't turn around so he doesn't see it.

"But just so you know, I will wear the dress but only so I don't have to squeeze myself into it after dinner when we go out!" you yell over your shoulder instead and you swear you hear him chuckle before you slip into your room and close the door behind you.

The sweatpants land on your bed, followed by the sweater you had put on after getting the text message from Jack. You remain in your underwear, which you hadn't been bothered to change and stare at yourself in the mirror of your wardrobe. You are confronted with the blush the spanking comment had left on your cheeks and down your neck, and you scowl at the image.

He is your best friend and roommate.

Get a grip!

The dress you had bought for the date still hangs on the wardrobe door, a short, and black number that wasn't something you would normally wear but when you had stalked the Instagram Account for the place you would’ve eaten at today, nothing already existent in your closet had seemed fitting.

Staring at it now you question the length as well as the relatively deep front and back. After all, this was a normal dinner with your best friend, right? Yes, you would maybe leave for a club or bar after this and you had worn all kinds of clothes for a night out with Thranduil in your company but this dress had been bought for the sole reasons of looking sexy and with the hopes of getting lucky.

You shake the thoughts away and grab the hanger with the dress on.

This was a normal dinner with your best friend and this was just a dress. He had seen you in other skimpy clothes and literally any other form of dressed as well as undressed on several accidental occasions. There is no need to think this over and fall into an endless spiral of doubts.

With a nod to yourself for this mature thinking, wow, aren't you a well-functioning grown-up? – you slip the garment over your head, pinching and twisting the fabric until it sits to your satisfaction.

The hem barely covers your thighs, just doing enough so it wouldn't flash your bottom at the slightest movement but showing enough leg for you to feel powerful. The same was with the deep neckline. Bending forward was not an option, though it would draw eyes on you, hopefully.

You put the discarded jewelry back on again, a subtle choker necklace and a pair of more flashy earrings with - sadly fake- diamonds dangling and catching the light in them. The makeup is done quickly as well, some touches of a brush on your jawline, some lovely shade of lipstick on your lips, the movement of routine flows through your body with no need to really think about it.

After spraying some of your favorite perfume on your neck and behind your ears you wait.

Sitting on the edge of your bed you wait and you definitely don't think back to Thranduil's statement. No. Never.

Maybe a little bit.

Because when he calls out for you a fifteen-minute heads-up, you feel the blush coming back and the suspicion confirms itself at the last look in the mirror. You raise your head, challenging the woman in the mirror with an arch of the eyebrow before walking out the door and into what could only be described as a fever dream.

The living room is dark, the moss green curtains pulled closed except for a small gap where the afternoon sun filters through into the flat. The dining room table is clear from all the jackets, mail and stuff that accumulates throughout the day and week that are usually thrown on it and instead, there are candles.

Candles!

Candles in silver candleholders, like actual burning candles. Next to the expensive-looking candleholders is a vase filled with lavender, full and flourished purple flowers that fill the room with a soft and dizzying smell.

Suddenly you are very glad you are not in your sweats anymore, there is a heat rising in your body and setting your cheeks aflame.

Fidgeting with your hands you quietly step forward into the room to the kitchen, your eyes flittering from the table to the cleaned-up sofas and then you can see Thranduil rushing from the counter to the stove.

His back is turned to you, offering you a view of broad shoulders and arms flexing beneath the white shirt he had changed into, and even worse, the tight black pants he now wears, showing off his long legs and- you look a little higher, checking him out and blushing like it's a guilty pleasure.

Of course, the pants would show off his perfect arse as well.

You shouldn't stare.

No matter how magnificent the sight is.

And oh, it surely is magnificent.

You snap back into reality, take a lavender-filled breath, and walk into the kitchen.

It's a beautiful kitchen, not one of the reasons you had first checked out the apartment but one that had tipped the arguments for it in the end. And you are glad it did, because when you had taken roommate applications Thranduil simply waltzed into it, nodded and offered you the first year of rent with 25% on top of it if you would remove the pop-into-the-microwave-Lasagna from the freezer and never dared to buy something like that again.

His brisk and bold and sometimes very harsh attitude would've maybe frightened any other person off but you had seen the money, the prospect of a cook as a roommate and a handsome one at that, and had held out the contract with one hand while the other threw out the lasagna.

And look where that had brought you.

The kitchen is now filled with more vegetables than you have ever seen in one place that isn't a market, there is nearly always a pot with something ready for you on the stove and the fondest memories you have with Thranduil are baking Christmas cookies, throwing flour into each others faces so that your hair had been colored white like Thranduils, or you learning how to cut vegetables under his stern gaze because "No, you can not cut a carrot the same way you cut the bell pepper!"

Now here he is again, creating a memory that will never let you go.

You let your eyes wander over the stove, where one pot is cooking rice, the other has some onions caramelizing with garlic from the smell of it and Thranduil has one pan in his hand, throwing some cut tofu into the air while he brushes some oil onto white dough stretched into hand-sized bits.

He is fully in his element, maneuvering what seems like a three-course meal without any help or breaking a sweat. Setting down the pan with the tofu (hadn't that been a fun journey of convincing until you had let him cook that without any protest?) he wipes his hand on the towel thrown over his shoulder and turns to the cutting board on the kitchen island. He has even more flowers on the island, pink gerberas and white orchids stand next to his array of mint, basil and rosemary.

You have no idea what has gotten into him, there have never been this many flowers in your apartment except for the few ones some of your dates had bought you and even then they landed in the trash a couple of days later.

Sometimes Thranduil had even said he had confused them for some swept-in leaves after you asked him where the last bouquet went.

The man was truly an enigma.

"Smells good in here," you say and lean over the stove.

Thranduil clicks his tongue against his teeth. With a soft growl, he presses out a "Move," not sounding really annoyed but disturbed by you being in his way and with a giggle you move away to grant him free access to the pots.

"What is on the menu today, Chef?" you ask as you hop onto the island. No matter how much space Thranduil needs for cooking, he always leaves that one spot on the corner free for you to sit on.

"Tofu Tikka Masala you noisy girl," Thranduil doesn't turn around and for a minute you want him to see you, see the dress you have put on but then your gaze falls onto his back again and you blush.

Thank god, he didn't turn to find you checking him out, again.

"Couldn't you have waited until I told you the food is ready? Now I have you sitting around here, distracting me, even though I don't have a lot of time to begin with."

You know he is lying. He had told you more than once that you were a pleasure in the kitchen. Not at the stove but looking pretty sitting on your spot on the island and not touching a thing.

"Well, we could have ordered some pizza," you tease him, and he grunts. When he still doesn't turn around, you lean forward, a smirk on your lips. "Or we could have gone out to 'Oakenshields' and-" The rest of the sentence dies on your lips as Thranduil's whole body snaps around and you nearly squeak when he leans into your space.

Nose against nose, he stares you down, cerulean eyes holding yours without any playfulness in them. "You are on very thin ice," he says quietly and while you know he still doesn't mean it like that, you squirm under the gaze and sudden rush of adrenalin that his proximity is causing your head to swim.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly, sounding way too excited for your own good, and you try kicking him against his chin but he catches your leg before it hits him, and as soon as his hands grab the bare skin he lets go again, falling back like it had shocked him physically.

Cerulean eyes drop, leaving your face that suddenly goes up in flames and for a second you can see his breath hitch, his chest moving at the sharp inhale of air as he takes you in. The moment builds up, the atmosphere between you changes and charges with something and for this short, stopped moment in time you allow yourself to think:

'What if?'

Then a timer goes off, distant at first but growing louder when Thranduil's face shifts back to the usual calm facade that reflects not a thing of what is going on in his head. He sniffs, hiding behind his dark eyebrows when he lowers his head and pats you gently on your thighs.

"I'll rather perish than go to 'Oakenshields'," he rasps, the raw edge in his voice the only remnant showing that he was affected by whatever that had been between you.

Then he turns around and pushes the tray with dough into the oven.

He covers it up professionally with the joke, of course, because Thranduil Oropherion could never have been seen with feelings that go deeper than what any human would consider barely amiable.

Yes, he is your best friend and he makes an effort around you to not be the coldhearted asshole he is too, for example, Thorin Oakenshield, owner of the restaurant slash bar that the last critic had called a "serious opponent in the gourmet chef world".

Thranduil took the news so well that he had a furious meltdown of cooking for nearly 20 hours to create a menu that he would serve the critic to show him Thorin was not to put anywhere near him on a culinary level before he threatened to buy the paper the man was working for and fire him.

He only calmed down when he found out the critic had persisted to order his own wine choices and not the ones Thranduil had carefully paired with each course so he had decided that the man had no taste whatsoever and he couldn't give a shit about what he had said.

You had seen the irony in his statement and the state of him, tired, overworked, still behaving like a diva and you had just stifled a laugh and helped him clean the mess in the kitchen.

It was one of those moments that shows you he cares more than he leads on, about life, about people, about what the world thought of him but when it comes to love the man is as warm as deep diving naked in the antarctic would be.

He can be nice, living with him was pleasant and it got a whole lot more comfortable when you got to know each other better.

He makes jokes, he shows you how much he appreciates you through his food, you two watch movies together, go out, get drunk, get home and giggle when one of you trips on the doormat and after a few months he even lets you fall asleep on him when you came home crying because a date didn't go well.

You had seen him drive home in a frenzy when his mother had called him about his younger brother breaking his leg climbing trees, and he had another friend, Bard, with whom he had a friendly get-together every now and again; it was only the romance part he never talks about, never shows, never ever makes room for.

While you go out for dates- he works.

When you meet someone at the club you dance, you make out, you go home with someone else- Thranduil just ignores any woman or man who talks to him.

Thranduil's love life (if existent) is a mystery to you and that makes it even more confusing why he had looked at you the way he did just now. Why would he suddenly decide to buy flowers, to cook you an entire meal because you had been stood up and play-dress up?

Your brain is steaming with these thoughts by the time you catch up with reality again, a snap of fingers in front of your face pulls you back and you blink, slightly dazed. Thranduil stands next to you, body facing the cutting board in front of him but you can see him sneaking a peek towards you out of the corner of his eyes.

"Do you know what you want to do after dinner yet?" he asks, slicing some cilantro and parsley.

His long fingers wrap around the shiny knife elegantly, drawing your gaze in and keeping it locked onto the movement of him cutting a lemon in half and drizzling a few drops of juice into the bowl with the herbs.

You try not to stare at the few drops wetting his palm.

"We should go out," you say, voice wavering in between a question and a hoarse croak. You swallow and move your head before your eyes follow a few seconds later, blinking up at Thranduil. "There is this new rooftop bar- they opened a few days ago and are still baiting people in with the two-for-one drink offer."

Thranduil smirks, leaning his hip against the counter and wiping his hand on the towel. "Ah, yes, because that went so well the last time?" he inquires, eyebrow raised teasingly.

"I couldn't possibly know what you are talking about, Thranduil," you purse your lips, suppressing the smile just barely that threatens to spill out at the memory of the last time you went to a new bar, trying out the "new and never been done before"-drinks the small hipster bar had promised you and that'd ended up being the worst cocktails you ever had.

"You still owe me for the trousers I had to get dry-cleaned because you missy-" he half-threateningly holds out his pointy finger again, "you missed the toilet"

"You could have shoved me in the right direction!"

"Ah yes, blame the man that saved you from throwing up all over your date," Thranduil turns away again, adding coconut milk and chopped tomatoes into the pot with the garlic and onions.

"Occupational hazard of being my friend," you say, giving him the brightest and most dearest smile when he holds out a spoon he'd dipped into the curry, before leaning in and wrapping your lips around it, letting the flavors swirl over your tongue.

Then a low hum leaves your throat, a sound not only shocking you but also Thranduil by the looks of it.

By the look of him.

There is a sudden pink covering his face, right around his nose, showing off his prominent cheekbones in a way that lifts the gorgeous feature even more. It is such an unusual sight, Thranduil, blushing, that you are taken aback by it and the spoon slips out of your lips, nearly falling when Thranduil pulls it out of your mouth, clearing his throat suspiciously loud and rough that it sounds physically hurtful.

He steps back, hiding behind a "Good then?" that you can only agree to with a low "Yes" because– firstly you could never correct him on the taste of something he prepares, he knows your taste well enough to always get the spices perfectly adjusted to your preferences, and secondly your head is blissfully empty for any other answer.

The moment passes, gets drowned out by another timer going off, followed by Thranduil shifting into chef-mode as you endearingly call the shift in his demeanor into a controlled acrobat when he starts handling all those pants and pots, stirring here, tasting there, focusing on everything all at once with a concentration that nothing could penetrate.

You sit back and watch him with a soft smile, observing him as he pulls the bread out of the oven, and exchanges the tray with two dark green bowls out of the cabinets to warm them up in the leftover heat.

He moves with a grace that you surely could not copy, all of his long limbs knowing exactly when to push the rice away from the burner, ducking away when the steam of pouring the hot water into the sink would have given your face a free steaming and all that while looking extremely put together with his tight pant- braid! and white shirt he didn't even bother protecting with an apron like he always forces you to wear.

It's frustrating and attractive how much confidence he oozes in the kitchen. You wonder how the cooks managed to do their job without dropping to the floor and praising him like the godly being he seems to be.

He looks perfectly put together when he finishes plating up and ushers you back into the living room, where you are forced to sit down while he disappears into the kitchen and brings the plates and bowls, shaking off your offer to help every time you can barely start the question.

So you do what is expected of you and you wait, brushing off some hair of your dress- long silver blond strands that you twirl around your finger.

The kitchen light gets dimmed and Thranduil comes into the living room one last time, holding a bottle of wine in his hands that by the looks of it, and by that you mean expensive as fuck, must have been nicked from the restaurant.

He fills your glass, then his own and finally sits down on the other side of the table.

Before you can say something, he raises his glass, "To this evening."

You smile and raise your glass to his, "To Marcus-" Thranduil's eyebrow twitches but you only smile wider "Thank god he canceled, I much rather spend this night with good food and good company"

A deep chuckle accompanies the soft 'clink' of your glasses. You take a first sip, holding Thranduil's gaze over the rim and over the flicking fire of the candles that illuminate his face just right. The wine is smooth, and refreshing as it wets your suddenly dry throat.

You use the plate in front of you as an opportunity to look away without it feeling like you are fleeing from his gaze, even if the thought is heavy in your stomach.

"Everything looks delicious, Thranduil," you say, gesturing to the bowls with the rice and tofu tikka masala, the dough that turned out to be naan that he placed on a wooden board between the flowers and the candle.

Thranduil gives you an appreciative nod, grabbing a naan and ripping it apart. "I tried to make something that comes close to your planned meal of chocolate ice cream," there is a mocking tone in his voice, a drawl on the words chocolate ice cream that is the perfect mix between friendly teasing and his true disgust towards it.

You let out a giggle, following his example of dipping the naan into the curry. "Oh, you are so gracious for trying but we both know that ice cream is high above this. It doesn't even fall in the same food category to be able to compare. If you truly look at it, it's its own category"

"Never mind everything I have said, I've forgotten that I'm talking to the person who thinks a cup of coffee counts as an entire meal. How very stupid of me"

"Not everyone can start their morning looking like you do and have the energy to go out for a run and then cook breakfast," you shoot back, the realization of the compliment slipping out pours onto you when you see Thranduil's lips curve into a very self-satisfactory grin.

"So you are awake to notice," he leans back in his chair, popping another piece of the bread into his mouth and looking so smug that the urge to kick him is rising in you again. "You simply choose to act like you are non-responsive until you've had your coffee."

Instead of kicking him, you roll your eyes and fill your spoon with rice.

Yes, that was one way to put it.

The other would be that you are simply too scared you would say something very stupid and inappropriate when you watched him do his yoga in nothing but very tight pants while you sat on the couch and pretended to stare into empty space that just coincidently was very close to his arching form in front of the window.

"Yes, I live by the rule that coffee comes before any man."

"How rude, to consider me 'any' man," you want to say something but Thranduil is quicker to continue, shutting you up with that gorgeous smile, "Am I not the only man in your life right now who you don't leave on read after a while?"

"That is a very low bar to measure yourself with"

"Darling, those men you date offer nothing but low standards."

You nearly choke on the wine you'd reached for when Thranduil says these words, this term of endearment he casually throws into the sentence, far too confident to be a slip of tongue, far too soft to be meant as mocking.

He said it as if it had never not been there, as if it wasn't completely out of character. For a moment you consider reaching over the table to poke him, to make sure he is really here and not some (very accurate, word class if it truly was one) robotic imitation.

There is a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that only seems to twinkle brighter the longer you stare at him and you wonder if he feels like he has won the discussion or if he can hear your brain mulling over the 'darling'.

Either way, he doesn't comment on it further, not on this nor the matter of your dating.

Why he thought to do so in the first place was a mystery to you, another piece of the puzzle that was this evening. He had made comments about the men you were seeing before, subtle phrases made after glancing over to your screen and the conversations you were having, never really cruel but you wouldn't say that they were particularly nice either.

Sometimes when you came home from a night out, you never brought them back to your flat, Thranduil would simply raise an eyebrow, not saying anything and so much at the same time.

You dig back into your food and like always conversation flows naturally between you. Pushing the teasing and the sizzling of something warm in your stomach that you had felt in the kitchen away into the back of your mind you let yourself enjoy the moment, the comfort of sitting at the table, a nice dinner in front of you and the home-y feeling that was in the air.

Curry and naan fill your stomach as the wine settles in your head and laughter slips your tongue.

Empty plates get pushed aside, forgotten on the side of the table until later, making room for you to prop up one elbow and let your cheek rest in the palm of your hand as Thranduil talks about his newest ideas for his restaurant.

The candles flicker, coloring both your faces golden as the last bit of sunlight sneaks away from the tiny crack in the curtains.

After another glass of wine and some well-coordinated cleaning up, a hand-in-hand process of taking the plates into the kitchen where you load the dishwasher and Thranduil wipes down the pots and pans in the sink, Thranduil throws you out of the kitchen again.

You hop into the bathroom, spend a few minutes staring at yourself in the mirror and try to think about the outcome of this evening.

A few hours ago you had been ready to go out with someone else but right now, in the dim light that is too bright to conceal how flushed your cheeks are and too dark to be the glimmering sparkle in your eyes, there is not one thought wasted on any other guy.

It's a complicated feeling, being confronted with the crush you'd harbored on Thranduil for a while now and while it wasn't always easy to keep it at bay, it had been nowhere near as hard to keep your focus on the big fat label of 'friendship' that was the only thing ever to be between you.

Yes, you know that that label should hamper the want.. the need to kiss the ever-living daylight out of Thranduil when he stared at you across those flickering candles but who wouldn't want to do that to an attractive man showering you with attention he had given you today?

Any normal-thinking person would.

At least that is what you tell yourself, that these feelings are normal because he is attractive and not just because you are attracted to him.

Back in the living room, you fall onto the sofa, legs stretched and feet propped onto the small table in front of the couch, and fight the urge to cuddle into the pillows more than necessary. Any deeper and you would for sure fall asleep and with how your evening is going, that that would be a shame was an understatement.

"Thranduil?" you call out when another minute passes and the noises of washing up had quietened down and Thranduil still wasn't out of the kitchen again.

"One moment," his deep voice responds with a subtle grunt, "You can begin your search for a bar and please don't let it be the rooftop bar you mentioned earlier."

On another day you would have chosen a bar or even a club to go to, especially after your stomach did that traitorous summersault at the sound of his voice again.

Tonight, with your cozy little apartment smelling like fresh flowers and curry and your mind clinging onto a possessive and dangerous thought of 'What if..'´ you suddenly can't think of anything worse than going out with Thranduil.

Going out would mean that Thranduil's attention wouldn't be on you alone anymore.

"Thranduil?" you call out again, "Let's stay in and watch a movie."

"What?" He pops his head out of the kitchen and you giggle at the sight of soap bubbles on his nose as he wipes his hand over his surprised face. He rolls his eyes, lifting one arm, - oh god his sleeves are rolled up, exposing far too much skin and veiny arms for you to think clear- and wipes the soap away. "I thought you wanted to go out."

"No," you draw the word out, still hung up on the smooth-looking skin, "We talked about going out or watching a movie," shuffling your shoulders into the pillows you smile at him "and I think we should watch a movie. It has been a while since we did that."

Thranduils face softens and he cocks his head, "It has," he agrees, the tenderness in his eyes reaching his voice.

With Thranduil running his restaurant and your work demanding more of you there hadn't been a lot of time you had sat down and watched something together recently.

You still had your mornings full of nursing coffee and yoga and the evenings where you weren't on a date or Thranduil away on business you had gone out together.

The summer with all its warm and sunny days and bars filled with cool drinks and long evenings fading into soft blue nights had been fun- that didn't mean you didn't miss cuddling into a blanket on the couch and watching a movie with Thranduil where you spend the entire time making small comments only to annoy him.

"How about you sort out what movie you want to see and I'll fetch us a snack?" he proposes and you let out a hum. Thranduil starts to turn away, then halters, "And if you could find anything other than 'Pride and Prejudice' I would be very grateful."

You did, in fact, not search further for the movie that you had started earlier.

Something that Thranduil comments with a loud "God, please do not do this to me," when he reenters the living room.

Stubbornly, you shake your head, your finger dancing over the buttons on the remote control. "You won't know if you like it or not if you never stay to watch it through! What if this is your movie? You say you don't have a favorite movie, Thranduil- this could be it!" Your arms flare in the air, pointing the remote to the screen while you try your best to sound as motivational as you can under the skeptical raise of his eyebrow - though the corner of his lips twitch, betraying his amusement however hard he wants to look self-assured in his completely (unreasonable) hate for the movie you consider one of the best of all time.

It's only when he saunters closer that you see what he holds in his hands and it momentarily lets you forget the never-ending argument.

"Ice cream!"

He laughs deep and rough, always a bit darker and richer when he has drunk wine, his voice and tone taking on the velvety edge that clouds your mind just as much as the alcohol.

"That was much more enthusiastic than the reaction to the soufflé I made you a while back. Should I take offense? Is this your revenge for my dislike of this Darcy that you so obsess about?"

Sticking out your tongue you grab one of the two buckets he holds out to you, as Thranduil takes his place on the couch; always on the longer side where he could stretch out his long legs. "Do not disrespect the man of my dreams or I will buy the mac-just-add-milk-cheese," you open the lid of the carton box, reaching over to the table to place it there.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Mhm, I wonder if they still have the ones that only need water?"

"Please just press play you vicious woman," Thranduil pokes his finger into your side, admitting defeat with a desperate sigh and opens his own box of ice cream. When he sees you staring at it, he rolls his eyes. "What now? Can't a man enjoy something sweet once in a while?"

"A man yes," you snort "But you-" you poke him as well, "you're always on me when I buy ice cream and now you eat.. what is that..?"

Leaning into his space you ignore how Thranduil swats at you gently like he wants to get rid of a fly "It's chocolate, no way! My, my, should I call your health insurance and warn them that we will need a checkup? Maybe a brain-"

"Goodness gracious!" Thranduil groans, a sound that reverberates through you as you are still leaning into him, one hand propped next to his thigh, "Will you shut up or do I have to do that for you?"

That does shut you up instantly.

Not a sound leaves your mouth - left wide open as if he had simply pressed paused on your whole body - and you slowly turn your head away from him and back to the screen.

Now, while he did shock you enough with his words to let the teasing about the ice cream slide back down your very much dry throat, you can't help it to at least attempt to have the last word.

To calm your racing heart if not to for the sudden lack of thoughts, "Only if you swear to watch the whole movie without talking shit about Mister Darcy"

"Half of it and a little bit of shit-talking?"

"All of it and none of that!"

"Just let me make my comments and I will buy you your ice cream next time."

You squint your eyes, challenging him to stay with the offer and consider if it's worth it.

You could easily buy your own snacks, you did it every day you went grocery shopping anyway but there was a satisfying pleasure in knowing that the great Thranduil, hater of all sweets, would not only pick out ice cream for you, but pay for it as well.

Maybe he would even throw in something else as well, if you agreed to him and let him make his jokes.

In the end, you were simply grateful that he was here, sitting on the couch to watch a movie he knows means a lot to you, despite his dislike for it, and maybe that was enough..

"Deal!"

Finally, you eagerly press play, allowing the soft piano music to fill the room a second time this day.

While you can't help but smile, muttering the words into the spoons full of ice cream, Thranduil is less mean than you thought he would be. In the beginning, you could see him rolling his eyes whenever Mr. Darcy came on screen - something you commented with a sigh and a giggle - but like you always predicted, he soon relaxed into the cushions.

His face softens, just like his comments, mouth corners turning up as he watches the discussion between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth in the reading room.

In one particularly dramatic scene, you turn to Thranduil with wide eyes. "See? See? Mister Darcy is just misunderstood. He's so in love with Elizabeth, but he doesn't know how to express it properly."

Thranduil rolls his eyes playfully. "Oh, please. He just needs to learn how to be less insufferable."

You lean closer to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, you could learn a thing or two from Darcy, Thranduil."

He scoffs. "Me? Like what?"

Despite the tone he lifts one arm so that you can really lean into his side and you follow the invitation. Drawing your legs up, ignoring that the hem of your dress rides up your thigh, you scoot into Thranduil's space and rest your back against the length of his chest. His arm remains on the headrest of the couch.

You grin. "How to sweep a girl off her feet. Be a little less aloof and a little more... passionate–" your voice wanders into a wistful sigh, words getting lost as you watch with bated breath as Mister Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage.

There is a deep rumble behind you, a hot exhale of breath hitting the back of your head and while it seems like Thranduil wants to say something, he remains silent.

When you slightly turn your head, you see him watching the screen with a look in his eyes that you can't pin point.

"Why exactly does he flex his hand like that?" Thranduil quizzes with what sounds like genuine interest and you nearly bounce off the couch in excitement.

"Okay so there are multiple ways that this could be interpreted, some think it represents his armor cracking because he has been so buttoned-up, closed-off all the time and now his muscles betray the character he is putting on," you start, the words tumbling out of your mouth fast and rushed now that Thranduil shows his interest "It's like he is unraveling slowly but surely."

"It's also the first time they touch," you add.

Thranduil cocks his head, "It is?"

The grin on your face grows wider and you nod enthusiastically. "Yes! It's the first time they touch and it's pure skin to skin contact which was totally scandalous in their time, hence the gloves and long sleeves. Imagine going on through your life with these walls built around you as a way to protect your heart and then there is this infuriating woman."

"I can't imagine," Thranduil throws in yet it's so quietly that you nearly miss it.

Nearly.

Your tongue trips over a few words as you continue speaking, caught on what Thranduil had said under his breath as if it had been meant for only him, "-well and she.. she is rebellious. She does not follow the etiquette of wearing gloves, she speaks her mind freely and she contradicts everything that you have been taught," you count on your fingers "And she must have been the first woman in a long time that has touched him like that, even if it's as simple as using his help getting into the carriage"

"Mhm," Thranduil raises the arm that isn't behind you and taps his lips. "And you find that moment important for their building romance?"

"Without a doubt in my mind."

"Alright."

And with that, the topic is dropped and you both return to watch the movie.

That is until Thranduil's arm drops lower.

At first, you think it could have been unintentional, physics and gravity and all that stuff being the reason that his arm fell or slipped from the headrest on your shoulders.

It happens, maybe it had been tiresome to leave it up there, stretched away at such an angle. That is what you tell yourself in the few seconds where his arm simply.. stays still.. but then his arm bends at the elbow and the movement is so slow, so careful that your brain has enough time to forget the movie and focus on how delicately wary his hand comes into contact with the naked skin of your arm.

At first, it's just his fingertips.

Trembling ever so slightly they ghost over your biceps, giving the impression that he is still unsure on how to proceed and you wait, trying your hardest not to flex your arm and maybe scare him away and it's the hardest thing - this kind of touch was rare.

The waiting and effort are worth every second of agonizing stillness because following the tips is the hot palm of his hand, curving around your upper arm and holding you.

Your senses are aflame like the candles, lavender clouding your mind, cold ice cream melting on your tongue as the rough skin of his fingertips trails over your arm in the smallest circles.

Reflecting on the previous conversation there is one sentiment burning its way through your body, bringing with it all the moments of today, his hands on your leg in the kitchen, the storm of emotions crackling through his eyes like thunder, splitting his facade like lightening, the way he had reacted on spoonfeeding you the curry, the tension.

This has to mean something.

This has to be something.

You make up your mind to confront him about it even before he opens his mouth for the next commentary again.

"Darcy sure has a fantastic way to show his love," his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Nothing screams more 'I love you' than separating the sister of the woman you love from your best friend because you think the family is far too poor and lacks social etiquette," he scoffs, seemingly being his normal self and you would have believed him if his eyes didn't dart towards you, hinting at a touch of nervousness in those cerulean seas which lack the usual confidence.

"Maybe he is unsure how to tell her that he loves her," you say, holding his gaze.

"Well, there are other ways than this," Thranduil says, pointing toward the screen where Darcy is now standing painfully awkward in Charlotte's home that Elizabeth visits.

While you know that he is trying to follow Elizabeths advice of simple conversation, Thranduil doesnt seem to make that connection.

"Why aren't you out and about flirting with women?" It is a slip of the tongue, led on by the teasing you are so used to yet it comes out far too soft, far too wobbly. Quickly you add to the question with what is half cough, half laugh: "Huh, I mean if you are so sure that Darcy is doing something wrong, you should be picking up women, right?"

Thranduil raises an eyebrow in confusion. He opens his mouth, slightly tilting his head. "What? Why should I do that?"

Now you wonder if he was more stupid than you thought or if you heavily missed him having a girlfriend. Or not a girlfriend, or a partner. Were you that ignorant? Did you miss anything he told you about his sexuality?

"I–" you stutter "I didn't want to pry. I´m sorry. I.. I'm just wondering why you never go out on dates"

"Oh," there is a solemn look on his face "Ah, I had hoped this wouldn't come up for a while longer," He pauses, glancing at the TV and a feeble smile has the corner of his mouth twitching.

You don't have to follow his gaze to know that Mister Darcy has just followed Elizabeth into the rain; the only scene Thranduil has ever watched with you.

Maybe you had been ignorant before but the resigned tone in his voice is loud and clear. "We don't have to talk about it!" you rush in, "Really. No need to converse. Let's just watch the movie alright?" Without thinking about it, your hand moves to his chest, a reflex to gently pat him that dies when you feel the hard thumping of his heart through his shirt.

"I could never date someone, let alone think about a woman the way I think about you."

There it was again, the casualness that had tainted the 'Darling' from earlier. You would have laughed, hell, it is already bubbling up your throat when the heaviness of his confession crashes down on you and all that leaves you is a choked sound and a sudden lack of air has you gasping.

The combination of both hurts but not enough to cover the flutter in your stomach.

"What?" you ask not because you didn't understand him, you had heard every word, every syllable clear and distinct, but because you can't believe that you had heard it.

Your hand still rests atop his chest, feeling the heartbeat- hard and fast.

The same way he suddenly pressed his mouth on yours.

It happens quickly, leaving no time for you to react how you want to react and the only thing you can do is gasp.

The kiss ends as swiftly as it has started at the sound yet Thranduil doesnt withdraw completely. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath ghosting over your dry lips. There was a question in it, the same that is in his eyes when you gather the courage to look up.

Thranduil wasn't this hesitant, he was efficient, confident and so fucking sure of himself that his lack of those qualities right now spoke just as much as the kiss itself.

In the background, you hear rain but all you feel is your mind clearing up like the sky after the downpour.

Without further hesitation, you nod and Thranduil lunges forward again, this time with enough force that you lose your balance - or maybe it was the feel of his lips on yours that prevented you from catching yourself as you fall backward and crash into the pillows.

As far as first kisses go, most of the ones you had with guys were significantly worse. They were usually awkward, sometimes even uncomfortable because you weren't yet attuned to each other, but you weren't kissing a strange guy in a bar here.

You were kissing Thranduil.

You had been friends for years, you had seen each other in the most embarrassing situations, he had probably been confronted with your unclothed body more often than others, and if there was one thing he had noticed, it was what disappointed you about your dates.

And while he kissed you silly and stupid you were happy about exactly this perceptiveness.

His hair falls around you like a curtain, his chest presses against yours and you get so used to the weight of his body on yours like it has never been different.

And you hope it will never be any different.

"Shit," Thranduil groans against your lips, and you open your eyes, smiling up at him in a daze.

"What?"

"Now-" he kisses you again "Now that we got this out of the way.." Another kiss, a soft bite on your lips and you are so fucking glad to know that no woman has experienced this from him in a while. You are getting addicted to his kisses fast "..can you please stop dating these assholes and let me take you out for a real dinner?"

You nod hastily and lift your head to catch his mouth again. You only let him go for another second, when the perfect place pops into your mind - the last thought for the rest of the evening probably.

"Let's go to 'Oakenshields'"

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #lotr x reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 7 months ago

Note

Hi!! this is my first time requesting anything but i was wondering if you could do creepypasta boys were you kiss / compliment there scars!

Kissing their scars (various crp)

Bro I scratched my skin right next to this burn last week and it HURTS so bad

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack

Notes: Reader is GN, fluff, these boys need help

CWs: talks of violence in.. well all of them, mentioned of self harm in Jeff's part

Jeff

You decide to kiss the gashes in his cheeks, the ones that he carved.. he never really viewed them as anything very negative; sure it reminds him of the night he killed his entire gamily.. a fact he has a very wishy washy feeling of guilt over depending on the day

At first he thinks you're trying to kiss his cheeks but you make it very clear what you're trying to do when you begin to compliment them- they've healed so well since theyve been put there

Between the three he tries to play it off the most, of course it looks nice- they make him beautiful, and he always will be beautiful! What are you talking about reader?

Hes not at all willing to be vulnerable around you, it doesnt matter how long you two know each other or how close you get he never.. really let's himself just be in his feelings around others

But just know that hes going to be sitting in bed tonight looking up at the ceiling replaying what you've said and going back over the events that lead him here- rare moment of self reflection essentially

But to your face.. hes just the same as hes always been, even teasing you for having such a huuuge crush on him- bonus if the two of you are already dating

Eyeless Jack

You rarely ever get to see him without the mask, but when you do.. it's best not to do something like this the first time you see his eye sockets- hes very cagey about his face in the first place and hes not quiet ready to handle more attention drawn to it. The first few times it's off it's best to meet it with indifference

But when more time passes, you're more than welcome to test the waters. You already knew Jack had a fair collection of scars, but there was a different feel to the burned and gashed holes where his eyes would have been

He wont let you kiss him, mostly because hes unsure of what exactly the goo was made of, as well as naturally not liking the idea of someone putting their mouth where his eyes just to be- but you're allowed to trace your fingers along the scar tissue

Hes never going to tell you what happened unless theres a reason to, hes very firm when setting this boundary. It's just something that makes him feel.. gross..

He already doesn't talk much but he becomes silent as you trace your fingers and talk to him

He might go back to wearing his mask all the time again for a while but it's not exactly your fault, it was just a huge step- it's okay to back up a bit to process things

Ticci Toby

Due to his CIPA he has a bit of a disconnect between him and his injuries, scars included. He didnt really feel them when they were being made, sure he may have felt some pressure depending on what caused it but other than that, nothing really.. for a lot of them he doesnt have much thoughts- neither good nor bad

The only ones that really make him feel something are the ones he sustained from the crash- they're scattered across his body...

If you kissed or complimented any other scar he would tease you for being a little "weird", even making it a game to guess where he got the current scar from- with outlandish answers of course

But the second you reach one of /those/ scars the fun is immediately cut, you can tell theres something off

Similar to Jack, its something that has to be eased into due to the weight associated with the injuries. It's not the fact that it hurt when he got them but they serve as a reminder of what he lost

The only one who really tries to change the subject, perhaps by asking if you have any scars or markings on your body or simply changing the subject all together

Probably the only one who wouldn't want to be complimented due to the nature of some of his scars

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer imagine #jeff the killer x you #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack imagine #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby imagine

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meazalykov · 1 month ago

Text

switching leagues

jessie fleming x actress!reader

summary: jessie feels the same frustrations as you do.

back at ucla, you first noticed jessie because she was that quiet, intense girl with a soccer ball under her arm and her headphones on, always looking like she had somewhere important to be.

she was a star on the field, and you were captivated, especially during one game when she completely dominated, her focus and skill undeniable.

after the game, a mutual friend introduced you, and you were immediately drawn to her warmth and quiet confidence.

the weeks that followed were full of late-night study sessions, long conversations, and games where you cheered her on from the stands. she started coming to your theatre performances, too, even when they meant sitting through hours of experimental plays or improv.

overtime, you guys started dating. it's been three years with the canadian and you both had big dreams, with her on the verge of a professional soccer career and you ready to dive headfirst into the world of acting.

in 2018, you got your big break with stranger things, and within months of season three’s release in 2019, your life changed. fans loved your character, heather, and suddenly, everywhere you went, people recognized you.

jessie was there, watching from across the ocean after joining chelsea in london in 2020. you visited as often as you could, but with each year, the goodbyes got harder. juggling your career with twelve-hour flights became a challenge, and though you were proud of jessie and everything she’d achieved, the longing for a life together poked at you.

during a recent visit to london, you sit down with her in the dim light of her apartment, trying to find the right words.

“jess, i don’t know how much longer i can keep doing this,” you admit, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sleeve as you glance up at her.

she watches you, her brown eyes soft, concerned.

“what do you mean… like… the long distance?”

“yeah. it’s…hm.. every time i come here, i feel like i’m stealing little moments of a life that could be ours,” you say, sighing.

“and then i go back to la, and it’s like i’m just waiting to see you again. i know it sounds selfish, but… it’s hard seeing other people moving in together, planning their lives with their partners.”

she nods slowly, looking down.

“i get it. and it’s not selfish. honestly… i feel it, too. every time you leave, it just feels like something’s missing.” she sighs, leaning back against the couch.

“sometimes i wonder if… maybe i’m holding onto something that’s keeping me from what i actually want.”

you look at her, heart pounding.

“jessie, what are you saying?”

“i'm saying i might not renew my contract with chelsea…” she shrugs, giving you a small, almost shy smile.

“i’ve been thinking about it. my contract’s ending soon, and if i stayed, it’d mean more of this… this distance but if there’s a way for us to be together, really together, i think that’s what i want now.”

the relief in your chest is immediate, and you can’t help the way your face lights up.

“jessie, i can’t believe… you’d do that?”

she reaches over, taking your hand in hers.

“i would. for us.”

a few weeks later, you’re back in los angeles, barely holding yourself together after reading a script from a commercial you’re casted in.

as you decide to put the stack of papers down to take a break, there’s a knock at your door. you’re not expecting anyone, so you’re surprised to open it and find jessie standing there, holding a suitcase, her face glowing with excitement.

“jessie? what… what are you doing here?” your eyes flick to her suitcase, heart pounding.

“hey,” she says softly, her smile widening.

“i have some news.”

your heart races as she pauses, letting you soak in the moment. “so, i’m not with chelsea anymore. i signed with the portland thorns,” she finally says, biting her lip like she’s holding back a huge grin.

“wait… you’re… you’re back? like, for good?” you barely dare to believe it, eyes widening as you look from her to the suitcase.

she laughs, stepping inside and setting her bag down.

“yeah, i’m back. i mean, i’ll still be based in portland, but it’s only a two-hour flight. and i thought… maybe we could finally talk about moving in together?”

you pull her into a hug, holding her close as her words sink in, feeling the warmth of her body against yours after so long.

“jessie, i can’t believe you actually did this.”

she laughs, wrapping her arms around you tighter.

“believe it, love. i’m here. and this time, i’m staying.”

masterlist

#jessie fleming #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #portland thorns

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mayrose713 · 27 days ago

Text

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 4

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

This chapter is a bit longer so I hope you all like it. I'll admit did write a lot of this while I was at work lol

Chapter 4

“Sorry you had to wait for so long in our office during the meeting.” Changbin apologizes again as they sit in the waiting area of the doctors office.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind.” She smiles at him while she’s filling out the paperwork given to her by the receptionist.

Chan can’t help but to glance down at it as she writes the answers to each of the medical questions.

The normal of her date of birth, which he now knows she’s younger than Jeongin by a few months. When she presented which was when she was seventeen, a late presenter, not unheard of but uncommon. Any medical surgeries, she had her tonsils taken out as an infant.

He feels guilty for looking at her answers for the female section but he reassures himself that it’s because he wants to know if she’ll need anything while she’s with them. Her last menstrual cycle having been the week prior so he won’t have to worry about making sure she has those products. That would have been an embarrassing call to Hannah for help with that.

When she gets to the omega portion he frowns as she hesitates with the answers. Her last heat cycle… was when she presented? Chan knows that omegas have two heats a year at first starting out, a few years after presenting it becomes three. He thought that maybe he’d have to worry about her having not made it to that third one a year yet with her having presented late, but he wasn’t expecting for her to not have had a heat in six years.

“Y/n L/n.” An omega nurse calls for the girl before approaching the three. “Dr. Hajoon is running a little behind so she wants me to go ahead and take you to get your blood drawn so that the lab work can be ready by the time she’s ready to see you.”

“O-okay.” Y/n stands up obviously nervous and Chan and Changbin both stand too.

“Sorry, there isn’t enough room for both of you to join, but we shouldn’t be too long. I’ll have her back out momentarily.” The nurse explains before starting to lead the way.

Y/n hesitates but follows the nurse after Chan and Changbin both give her a reassuring nod that she’ll be okay. If it weren’t for the nurse being an omega the two alphas probably wouldn’t have let the girl go by herself.

“Bin?” Chan speaks up after the omegas are out of sight behind the doors leading to the back. “Did you happen to look at the paperwork she was filling out?”

Changbin frowns, giving his alpha a confused look. “No? Did you? You know that's an invasion of privacy right?”

“I know.” Chan sighs, closing his eyes. “I just couldn’t help myself, wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything concerning, ya know?”

“And is there?”

Chan pauses for a moment before looking at Changbin. “She wrote down that her last heat was when she had first presented, about six years ago.”

“What? How is that possible?” Changbin sits forward then looks confused when Chan pulls his phone out. “What are you doing?”

“Texting Lix.” The older alpha brings up the betas contact as Changbin scoots over to see what is said.

Channie Alpha♥️ Lixie baby, I need you to do Changbin and I a favor please.

Lixie Baby🩵 Of course, anything

Channie Alpha♥️ I need you to go into the room Y/n’s staying in. And look at her nest that you made for her.

Lixie Baby🩵 Okay? 🤨

What about the nest?

Channie Alpha♥️ Does it look any different from yesterday?

Lixie Baby🩵 It just looks slept in, why?

Channie Alpha♥️ It doesn’t look like she changed it at all? Everything's how you had placed it?

Lixie Baby🩵 No 🥺 everythings exactly how I had done it

Channie Alpha♥️ Thank you baby, that’s all I needed

Lixie Baby🩵 Can I ask why you took her to see Dr. Hajoon?

Channie Alpha♥️ You shouldn’t be stalking our location Lix. Minho just had some concerns he wanted us to get checked out is all. We’ll be home right after, I promise. Love you

Lixie Baby🩵 Love you too 💕

“What does her not changing how Lix made her nest have anything to do with all of this?” Changbin finally asks after Chan puts his phone away.

“When Lucas presented Felix had sent Olivia over to help him understand his omega tendencies.” Chan starts to explain. “The main thing they went over was nesting, it comes naturally to an omega but it’s different for everyone. She had said that the way she nests and the way Felix nests is completely different. So if an omega were to make a nest for another omega, the latter would still change it up a bit to make it more suitable for themselves. The only time it doesn’t happen is a communal nest because normally all of the omegas in the pack would build the nest together.”

“So Y/n’s omegas tendencies should have kicked in and she would have changed up the nest a bit to be more comfortable for her, but she didn’t.” Changbin repeats to make sure he’s understanding correctly as he doesn’t have any omega family members and Chan nods in confirmation. “So that and the lack of a heat for the last six years, how is that possible?”

“The only thing I know that can cause someone to not have a heat is suppressants.” Chan hisses. “But it doesn’t suppress their other omega tendencies. And it’s only until you stop taking the suppressants…”

“Meaning she never stopped taking them?” Changbin nods but then frowns.” Wait, I thought you guys said she didn’t have anything with her besides a car when you found her?”

“Yeah. She didn’t even have shoes. And I think I would have noticed if she grabbed a pill bottle at all.” Chan thinks back to the day before.

“Is she maybe not an omega?”

Chan gave Changbin an are you kidding me look. “Have you not smelled her? She’s an omega.” Then he thinks about what he overheard Minho and Jeongin say. “Though Min said he felt as though her scent isn’t fully there, which makes sense.”

“Is it possible to not be a full omega?” Changbin pounders. “Like how Felix acts like one when he’s a beta. Could it be the opposite with her?”

“I’m not sure.” Chan looks up as he smells Y/n walk back out into the waiting area, her uninjured arm taped from the blood draw. “But we’re gonna need to find out.”

Y/n gives them as much of a convincing smile as she possibly can but they can tell from her scent that she didn’t have a pleasant experience.

“You okay Y/nnie?” Changbin scoots away from Chan so she can sit back down between them.

“Yeah.” She nods and sits down. “Just don’t really like hospitals, especially being alone in one.”

“I’m sorry you had to go back there alone.” Chan places his hand on hers. “I promise we’ll be with you when Dr. Hajoon is ready to see you. She knows that we don’t like letting omegas go alone.”

She nods and takes comfort in knowing that they’ll be joining her in the examination room.

After what felt like an hour but was more like fifteen minutes, a beta doctor with a clipboard of papers walks out and smiles at the three of them.

“Chris, Changbin.” The two stand and hug her before she turns and looks at Y/n. “And this must be the… omega… you told me about, Chris?”

“Yes, this is Y/n.” Chan smiles, placing a hand on the small of her back, all of them having taken notice of her hesitance to say her sub-gender. “Thank you so much for getting us in so quickly.”

“It’s no problem.” She turns back to Y/n once again. “It’s nice to meet you Y/n, I’m Dr. Hajoon. Let’s get you back to the examination room, I have your paperwork as well as the notes my nurse wrote down from getting your height and weight before you had your blood drawn. Are you okay with the alpha’s joining us?”

“Y-yeah.” The omega nods. “I would prefer that they do.”

“I had assumed so.” Hajoon nods and leads the three of them through the doors to the back.

Once in the room Chan helps Y/n up on the examination table before sitting with Changbin in the seats and Hajoon grabs the stool while looking over the paperwork with a frown.

“Alright, based on your paperwork I do have a few concerns but that is stuff that can wait until the end when we’re just discussing everything else and going over your blood work.” She starts off and sanitizes her hands before grabbing gloves. “I’m more worried about the wounds Chris told me about, can I take a look?”

Y/n rolls the sleeve up of the shirt she borrowed from Hannah’s closet to show the bruising on her wrist and the bandage on her upper arm.

“Was it Minho who patched you up?” Hajoon smirks when the omega nods yes. “I figured, he’s the caretaker type.”

Changbin snorts. “Don’t let Min hear you say that.”

The beta peels the bandage off her arm revealing more bruising and a deep gash. She inspects it, cleaning it a bit causing Y/n to hiss in pain a little. The two alphas shift in their seats wanting to protect the omega but knows the doctor is just doing what she needs.

“Luckily it isn’t too deep. It looks like Minho did well in cleaning it but I’m seeing some early signs of infection, something he wouldn’t have been able to recognize.” Hajoon explains and rubs a topical ointment before bandaging it back up. “I’m gonna prescribe an ointment and antibiotics to take until it’s healed. As well as a bruise relief cream.”

“Thank you.” Y/n whispers.

“Chris had also mentioned bruising on your side and possible broken ribs?”

“Yeah, that was Minho's main concern.” Chan speaks up again. “He wrapped her torso to help relieve any pain she may be in but we need to know if anything’s broken.”

“Do you mind taking your shirt off?” The doctor asks and notices the girl's hesitancy. “If you want we can shut the curtain.”

“It’s okay.” Y/n whispers and lifts up her shirt taking it off.

Hajoon starts unwrapping her torso and it’s when she hears both Chan and Changbin growl that she knows the bruising is visible for all. She has the omega lay down on her back so she can feel her ribs for any breaks which causes the omega to hiss at some of the more sensitive bruising.

“I don’t think you have any broken ribs.” The doctor explains. “Does it hurt at all to breathe?”

“No.” Y/n hisses again as the doctor touches another tinder spot. “But the prodding and poking does.”

“Sorry.” The beta moves away from the table. “You can go ahead and put your shirt back on. But I do have to ask how these injuries happened?”

“I fell down a flight of stairs.” Y/n doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as she shrugs her shirt back okay.

“Hmm… before Chris and the betas found you, where were you living? Did you have a pack?”

“I was still living with my family pack.” This saddens Chan, thinking that her family might have done this to her.

“Another question I just have to ask as a part of my normal spiel. Do you feel safe?”

“Yeah.” The omega nods. “I do now at least.”

Dr. Hajoon’s smartwatch goes off and she looks at it before turning to the computer in the room. “Your blood work came back so we can discuss the other concerns I have about your weight and lack of a heat.”

Y/n glances at the two alphas to see their reactions but their expressions are neutral.

The beta’s looks over the lab results and sighs before giving the omega a sad look.

“Did you know what it was?” Y/n gives a sad nod yes. “Did you get them done willingly?”

“My family forced me.” She mumbles playing with her hands.

“Forced what?” Chan cut’s in, sitting forward in the chair looking pissed.

Hajoon puts her hand up towards Chan as she continues looking at Y/n. “Besides your heats and scent, what else did it affect? And how often did you get them?”

“All of my omega tendencies.” She bows her head. “Every month since after my first heat.”

Chan grits his teeth not liking the sound of this conversation as he doesn’t fully know what's going on.

“Is it okay if I tell your alphas about it? That is if they promise not to lash out.” She eyes the two males until Y/n nods her head yes and waits for Chan and Changbin to also agree and once they do she sighs.

“Her blood work came back positive for a suppressant injection. It isn’t like normal pill suppressants that can help postpone a heat, or a scent suppressor, it suppresses everything omega about her and even her appetite, why she’s underweight too. Why my nurse and I both were confused by her scent at first, we both smell a beta from her. These injections aren’t illegal but most refuse to practice with it because of the severity. It normally lasts up to thirty to forty days before needing another injection.”

“How do we smell her like an omega then?” Changbin speaks as Chan’s trying to keep calm.

“The only way for anyone to smell a person's true sub-gender through a suppressant is if they are their fated mate.” Chan and Changbin’s jaws both drop. “You guys wouldn’t know you were fated mates though because of the suppressant, your alpha’s aren’t fully smelling her to tell you like normal. To you guys it seems as though her scent isn’t fully there.”

Chan and Chanbin both look at Y/n in awe now.

“So what do we need to do about the last injection she was given?” Chan leans forward and grabs Y/n’s hand to both help comfort her for what's about to be said and keep him from lashing out.

“Her blood work shows little traces of it, meaning it’s almost out of her system.” Hajoon looks back at the computer. “I would say in a few days her omega tendencies will start to return and she should restart her heat cycle. Though this first one will be a dry heat.”

“Dry heat?”

“A dry heat is when the body is not ready to reproduce or prepare for reproduction. Occurs when the omega is in a bad physical condition, mental state, or environment. When Omegas are in unsafe environments, examples; physical, mental, or emotional abuse, no pack bonds or mate, unfamiliar location, lots of stress or anxiety, which from what I can guess is a lot of what she’s been put through plus the suppressant, it’s bound to happen. It’s usually painful. Alters the body and shuts down all biological functions involved in reproduction and is not healthy but unavoidable this time. Dry heats can last anywhere from two to seven days. You guys will need to do a lot to help her during it. Take her to her nest or den. Do NOT leave her alone. Keep her hydrated, fed, and someone needs to maintain physical contact at all times. If the dry heat worsens, take her to the nearest hospital. Symptoms of it are haziness, cramps, separation anxiety, headaches, fearfulness, high emotions or extremely emotionless, distressed scent. I’ll have it all written down for you guys.”

“And… and what if I don’t have a dry heat, or any heat?” The omega fears.

“If you don’t go through one within a week, come back and we’ll try and figure out what's going on.” She reassures her as she types on the computer. “I’m sending in your prescriptions as well as setting you up with a therapist and psychologist. With what you’ve been through maybe we can get you on medication that can help with your mental health. They’re located in the same office as the two Jisung sees so I’ll see about getting you in at the same time as his so you both can just go together.”

“Thank you again for everything.” Chan stands up still holding the omega’s hand and helps her off the table.

“Anytime Chris, I’m always just a call away if you guys need anything.” She hands Changbin the papers with all the information they need. “Keep me updated.”

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series

Tag list: @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl @blindspot143 @sinfulfic @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55 @hwangrfrnd @pixie0627 @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog

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kisses-for-you · 2 months ago

Text

forgotten date - e. buckley

evan buckley x fem!reader

summary: after missing your anniversary due to his job, Buck realises he needs to make it up to you.

w/c: 1.6k

It had been weeks since you and Evan had any quality time together. Between back-to-back shifts, emergency calls, there was just never enough time. You had tried to be understanding — Evan's job was demanding, and the sacrifices it required were constant. But tonight was supposed to be different. It was your 3-year anniversary, and he had promised to meet you at the restaurant you'd gone to on your first date.

You had spent all day looking forward to it. You got dressed up, put on some makeup, and did your hair. You couldn't wait to finally spend some quality time with your fiancé. At the restaurant, you sat by the window, glancing out every few minutes, expecting to see Buck pull up with that smile of his that had drawn you in the first time you met.

But as the minutes turned to an hour, your hope began to dim. You checked your phone again. No message. No missed call. He wouldn't just ditch you like that, right? He knows how important this date is to you and he wouldn't miss it, or at least not on purpose, but you were starting to doubt that he was actually going to show up.

Across town, unbeknownst to you, Buck was in the middle of an intense rescue mission. A fire had broken out in an apartment complex, and the team was working tirelessly to evacuate everyone. In the rush, time slipped away from him. Even as the fire started to calm and they secured the scene, his mind was still on the task at hand, his adrenaline too high to remember the dinner he’d promised.

Back at the restaurant, you were sitting alone, watching as couples came and went. The waiter politely asked if you were ready to order, only for you to decline. After two hours, the embarrassment and hurt were too much for you to handle. You quietly paid for the drinks you'd ordered while waiting and left, the rain pouring down outside, soaking you as you walked to your car.

By the time Buck got back to the station and finally remembered, it was far too late. He glanced at his phone, dread filling his chest as he saw your name on the screen. Missed calls. A few messages, at first excited, then worried, and finally one that stung the most: "I guess you're not coming."

He rushed out of the firehouse, still in his uniform, heart pounding in his chest. Buck drove straight to your shared apartment, hoping that somehow he could explain, that somehow this could be fixed. But when you opened the door, the look on your face shattered him. It wasn't anger — it was sadness. Deep, aching sadness that Buck had put his job, once again, before you.

"You didn't even call," you said quietly, stepping aside to let him in, though you weren't sure if you really wanted to talk to him. "You forgot, didn't you?"

Buck's mouth opened to apologize, to explain, but the words died in his throat. He had forgotten. He hadn't meant to, but what good were his intentions when he still hurt you unintentionally? He saw the effort you had put in — your outfit, the soft makeup, the hair you'd styled just for him — and it made him feel like the worst person alive.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed, voice cracking. "The fire- it was bad. I didn't realize how late it was, and I-"

You cut him off, your tone gentle but distant. "It's not just about tonight, Buck. It's every time. I get it, your job is important, but... I'm here too. I needed you tonight, and you weren't there. Not even a text. Nothing."

Buck ran a hand through his hair, his heart sinking further. "Baby, I swear, I didn't mean to forget. I would never hurt you on purpose."

"I know you wouldn't," you replied, your eyes brimming with tears. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm standing here, feeling like an idiot for thinking you'd actually show up. I don't know how many more times I can do this," you paused, steadying your breath. "I wait, and I worry, and I tell myself it's okay because you're saving lives. But what about us, Buck? Who's going to save us?"

The silence that followed was unbearable. Buck reached out, taking your hands in his, but you didn't squeeze back. His stomach twisted as what you said hit him. This wasn't just about a forgotten date — it was about the cracks in your relationship that had been forming for a long time.

"I love you, Y/N," he said, voice low and honest. "I don't want to lose you. Please… let me fix this."

You pulled your hands away, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I love you too, Buck, but I don't know if that's enough when I keep feeling like this. I don't want to be the person you constantly forget about because of your job. I can't live like that."

Buck's chest tightened, the reality hitting him hard. He had always known the risks that came with his job, but he never thought it would be what tore you apart. Now, standing in front of the person he loved, he realized that it wasn't just his life on the line every time he went out on a call — it was your relationship too.

"I'll do better," Buck promised, though he wasn't even sure how to make that happen. "Please… just give me another chance."

Your gaze softened, but the pain was still there. "I don't want promises, Buck. I need actions. I need you to show me that we matter. That I matter."

Buck felt a knot in his chest, but he nodded. He didn't want to leave things like this. "What if… what if we start right now?" he said, his voice gentle. "We don't have to go out or do anything big. How about we just have a movie night? I'll shut my phone off, and we can spend the evening together. No distractions, no interruptions. Just us."

You looked at him for a long moment, the hesitation clear in your eyes. "No firehouse calls, no emergencies?"

Buck smiled, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. “Of course."

After a moment, you nodded. "Okay. Let's have a movie night," you said, a small smile spreading across your face.

Relief washed over Buck, and he wasted no time in making good on his promise. He quickly changed out of his uniform while you set up the living room. A few minutes later, you were curled up on the couch under a soft blanket, Buck's arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. The TV played a movie, but neither of you were really paying much attention to the movie.

It wasn't about the movie; it was about being together.

Buck kept his arm around you, holding you close, his thumb gently tracing soothing circles on your arm. After some time, you leaned into him more, resting your head on his chest.

"I'm sorry I let you down," Buck murmured, his voice low as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "I never want you to feel like you're not a priority. You mean everything to me."

You sighed softly, the warmth of Buck's embrace slowly easing the hurt that had been building up. "I know your job is important, Buck, but I just… I want to feel like I'm important too. Like you want to be here as much as you want to be out there saving people."

Buck tightened his hold on Y/N, his heart aching at their words. "I do want to be here. I love my job, but I also love you more. I'll show you, okay? I'll make more time for us. I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose you."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his face. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, you gave him a small, tired smile. "I don't want to lose you either, Buck."

Buck grinned and leaned down, closer to you. "Good. Because I'm planning on keeping you forever."

You chuckled softly. "Forever’s a long time, Buck."

"Exactly my point," Buck teased. "So you're stuck with me."

You smiled and rested your head back on his shoulder. "I think I can live with that."

For the next few hours, you stayed like that, curled up together. At one point, Buck pulled a corner of the blanket up and draped it over your legs, tucking you in a little closer. "Can't have you getting cold," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, making you shiver.

Eventually, the conversation trailed off, and the warmth of Buck’s body, combined with the low hum of the movie, made you doze off, your head resting on him. Buck noticed when your breathing became deeper, your body relaxing fully against his.

He glanced down at you, his heart swelling with affection. Your hand was still resting on his chest, your fingers loosely gripping his shirt. Smiling softly, Buck took your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours as he gently stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. He kissed the top of your head, careful not to wake you. Your head nuzzled deeper into the crook of his neck, your body sinking further into his warmth.

Buck leaned his head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded as he watched the movie play on in the background. It wasn't a grand gesture or a big apology, but in that moment, Buck knew this was what you needed — time together, without the world pulling him away. As you slept peacefully on his shoulder, Buck held you close, vowing to never take your love for granted again.

911 masterlist

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 x reader #911 abc #911 #911 fox #911 fic #buck buckley #buck buckley x reader #evan buck buckley #imagine

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

Note

Lucy bronze and reader are in a secret (not quite) relationship. Reader is Georgia stanways sister and therefore Leah’s honorary sister, and the two have their suspicions you’re seeing someone but won’t tell them. They think it’s Alessia you’re dating because she’s your best friend and the two of you are always together. But you and Lucy get drawn as room mates for camp and maybe there’s a hickey or two that isn’t covered up properly and that’s when the ball drops? And when confronted lucy just is quite casually like “yeah that’s my girlfriend. And?” Shocking reader as well because they’ve never actually talked about it before

girlfriend II l.bronze

"nah i'm telling you g it's gotta be less." "but they're just mates!" "mates who are together all the time. they even live together, no?" "well she said she's inbetween places while she waits to see if her contracts renewed." "georgia...they're dating."

"whose dating?" keira interrupted her best friends, taking a seat at their table and placing down her tray of food, shoving away leah's hand who reached for her packet of crisps.

"y/n and alessia." leah announced matter of factly as georgia hummed, still not completely convinced. "and exactly how have you come to this conclusion?" keira sighed before taking a bite of her banana, staring blankly at the two blondes across from her whose gazes were focused on the other stanway sister sitting across the dining hall.

"well. she's been staring at her phone a lot lately all smiley but a different kind of smiley, then she keeps posting them photos of someone else on her instagram but not tagging them, she dodges our facetimes saying shes out with a friend but won't tell me who-" georgia started to recount as keira hummed, completely unconvinced.

"- and then the other day when we was at our parents place she was clearly on the phone to someone and was dead giggly, but then i walked in and she went all weird and hung up." georgia rolled her eyes.

"and this makes you think she's dating alessia?" keira narrowed her eyes. "no! that's leahs theory. but i know she's datin someone and we're gonna find out who." georgia replied firmly as leah hummed in agreement, keira shaking her head.

"well don't include me in this we, cause this is not gonna end well gee. leave her be! she's got a right to privacy much as you have." keira chastised as georgia merely scoffed.

"not in this family she hasn't."

"who ya textin then?" you were quick to turn off your screen as your younger sister collapsed beside you on a beanbag, shoving her away and mumbling about personal space.

"looking awfully chipper there aren’t we my girl." you sighed as leah immediately flopped down on your other side, slipping your phone into your pocket and trying to leave, only to be pulled right back down.

"i was smiling at a tiktok, can i help you both solve any other mysteries holmes and watson?" you huffed, fed up with your sisters consistent prying into your personal life, just trying to enjoy the down time before training this afternoon, all of you currently in camp preparing for the euros squad selection in just a few weeks time.

"yes you can matter of fact. you can help us figure out who you're dating!" georgia beamed as your face dropped and you tried to get up with a huff, leahs hands grabbing at the back of your jumper and tugging you down again as she stretched an arm across your shoulders.

"that's none of your business. lee get off me!" you grunted at leah who effectively held you down into the beanbag. "so you are dating someone then?" georgia gasped, clapping her hands together gleefully as you rolled your eyes.

"i didn't say that. i just said that topic is none of your business!" you warned as your sister waved you off. "yes it is. so whose the lucky lass? or lad? no judgement here!" georgia shrugged as you glared daggers into the side of her head.

"no one. you always do this georgia, i'm sick of it!" you growled and leah sensing you were actually starting to become upset quickly let you go as you shot to your feet.

"you're a nosy little cow and you're always sticking it in my business. my personal life is mine and the more that you, and you, try to pry into that the further i'm gonna ice you both out." you glared at both blondes sitting on the beanbags before storming off, alessia watching from the other side of the room with a concerned frown and hurrying off after you.

"see? told you. dating!" leah pointed it out with a nod, georgia shrugging in somewhat agreeance as keira appeared in front of them with her arms folded and a stern look on her face. "what?" leah frowned as the girl shook her head at them.

"are you happy now? thats clearly upset her and the pair of you aren't even sorry. just leave her be!" was all the brunette warned before walking off again.

"she's relentless!" you groaned, head slumping back onto the older girls chest as her hands gently massaged your shoulders whilst you sat inbetween her legs on the bed.

"she's just being your sister, she cares about ya." lucy chuckled, finding the whole situation quite amusing as she tried to ease the mounting tension in your neck.

"i wish she didn't! thank god we got roomed together or else i don't think i'd be able to see you all camp. she's probably paid someone off to follow me round!" you rolled your eyes with another huff, folding your arms over your chest.

"aih grumpy, settle down or you're gonna pull a muscle." you felt her body vibrate with quiet laughter behind you, eased by her thick northern accent as she pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

"easy for you to say. they haven't a clue we're sneaking around so you're off their radar, they think i'm dating less of all people!"

"sneaking around then are we?" "well what else would you call this?" "hey you were the one who told her and leah you're staying with alessia instead of with me, no wonder she thinks you're dating the two of you are practically attached at the hip."

"jealous are we bronzey?" you turned around to give her a teasing grin as the brunette rolled her eyes and shoved your face away, shuffling back on the bed a bit and laying down.

"don't need to be, i'm well aware of everything i do to ya that less certainly couldn't." lucy now smirked as your cheeks tinted pink and you smacked her leg, climbing on top of her as her hands settled on your thighs.

"she could! what would you know anyway?" you grinned as you slowly leant in, much too slow for lucys liking who tugged on the collar of your jumper, pulling you down into a kiss.

"much more than you know kid." lucy sat up and flushed your body closer into hers, lips beginning to attack at your neck as your eyes fluttered close, feeling her large warm hands begin to roam your body.

"your ego needs checking." you chuckled with a small shake of your head, her confidence being one of the things that had attracted you to her the most the night you'd first began this little series of hook ups.

in all honesty you weren't sure what the two of you were, you'd not really had that conversation yet in the month or so you'd been seeing one another, staying with her in manchester while you navigated the impending transfer season.

"there's other parts of me that require checking right now love!" lucy smirked and you squealed as she quickly flipped the two of you, her taller form now hovering over yours as her lips teasingly brushed yours.

her hand slipped up your jumper and pressed you down into the bed as you tried to kiss her, her lips once again attaching to your neck as you pushed your head back into the pillow with a sigh of pleasure.

"you know sarinas rule." you managed to breathe out feeling her nip at your neck, hissing in both pain and pleasure as her tongue traced the mark she just created.

"ay, no sex. but there's plenty we can do that's not that."

"nobody better notice, it's bad enough having her on my case for smiling at my phone. once she see's this she's gonna bury me!" you glared at lucy as the two of you exited the room to head down to dinner, tugging your hood over your head as the older girl simply smiled and wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

"incoming!" you braced as you heard an all too familiar voice, a body charging into you from behind and jumping onto your back as you tried to stay on your feet but failed miserably, crashing to the ground and taking georgia with you.

"you're such a dickhead!" you groaned out in pain, shoving her off of you as leah came bounding up behind her, rubbing at your head which had thumped against the ground at the sudden attack.

"excuse me what is that?" leah asked with an accusatory tone, pointing to your neck with a stern glare as you were quick to flip your hair over your shoulder and tug your hood up.

"nothing." you dismissed, trying to get to your feet but crying out as georgias body again slammed into yours, the two of you rolling around on the floor before she eventually sat on top of you and pinned your hands under her knees.

"georgia get off man! this isn't the wwe." you grunted, struggling underneath your younger but seemingly stronger sister who tugged your hood off and gasped at the dark red hickey on your neck.

"who gave you that! where's alessia?" georgia looked around as you rolled your eyes. "probably in her own room. she's my best friend georgia we are not dating, you're deluded!" you dismissed the accusations as leah looked between you, lucy and the hotel room you'd both just come out of, cogs turning in her head before it clicked.

"you!" leah pointed accusingly to the taller brunette, georgia looking around and then putting the pieces together before her jaw dropped and you took the opportunity to shove her off of you, standing quickly to your feet.

"aye, she's my girlfriend. and?" lucy stated quite casually as her arm again slipped over your shoulder and you turned to her with a look of surprise, the shock only hitting leah and georgia further.

"see you at dinner then." lucy smiled, tugging you with her as she headed off toward the elevator, leaving a stunned leah and georgia in her wake as the doors closed behind you.

"girlfriend?" you asked with a surprised smile, the midfielder shrugging calmly. "is this you asking me or telling me?" you took a step away from her and folded your arms over your chest.

"asking, but then again you're only human...so is it even a question?" the girl smiled smugly and you scoffed, smacking at her chest as she pulled your body into hers, trapping you in a tight hug.

"your confidence is nauseating." you fake gagged as she rolled her eyes. "acting like you don't love it." she promptly shut you up with a kiss, pressing your body into the wall beside you before the doors opened and she pushed herself away, offering you a hand as the two of you stepped out, missing your sister come flying out of the fire exit having sprinted down the stairs.

"LUCY COME HERE I'M GONNA KILL YA!"

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #engwnt #woso blurbs #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze

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syntheticavenger · 2 months ago

Text

Mr. March - Two

So the teaser has now turned into something else. Thank you for the ones who have enjoyed this story, I hope you like this next part!

Alpha! Bucky Barnes x Omega! Female Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language and that's about it.

Summary | Making fun of a friend for his new found fame is one thing, falling for a rule following librarian while balancing his own rise of attention is another.

Dinner for one never really bothers you.

Usually treating yourself to one indulgent night a week, you’ve almost forgotten the feel of the curious and sometimes sad stares, as if you were possibly stood up on a date. You’re free to order a bottle of wine and dessert, without any snide comments, paying your own check before you’re well on your way back home.

Tonight though, between the clink of wine glasses and utensils on expensive plates, you feel it – a weird sort of curiosity if this is sustainable. If you’re able to continue this narrative you’ve drawn out for yourself, having solo dinner dates and getting home by eighty on the dot, enough for you to unwind before bed, before you have to wake up to a new day of responsibility.

A slight push of the half empty wine glass and you’re ready to go, your dinner paid for and the looks of other patrons now fading from your purview, shrugging on your coat and checking your phone for the time.

You’ve ignored the last two texts from Janet, who sent you a picture of the books on hold, asking about why you’ve held books for Mr. March.

Mr. March.

You’ve seen the calendar that Janet had purchased at the beginning of the year, hidden in her desk because hanging it up would be a scandal. How a charity calendar got so famous is beyond you, dodging it every first of the month because people have never seen a good-looking man wearing next to nothing before. You didn’t need to purchase it. Why would you? What a waste of money that you could be spending on something else.

Like the houseplant that is barely hanging on by a thread that you seem to forget to water until you’re at work, silently cursing that you forgot, only to set a reminder on your phone that you silence when you stay at work too long.

You remember now, padding down the hallway of your apartment once you kick off your heels, picking up the plant to inspect it.

“Please don’t wither away and die,” you whisper to it, hoping it will take your impassioned plea to heart and thrive.

Maybe you’re not just talking to your plant.

“Why didn’ t you tell me he was here?”

Under the harsh white light of her office, Janet gives a pout, her voice in a near whimper when she asks the question. She sighs dramatically, leaning back in her chair while she pulls up a picture of James – Bucky – half his face obscured with a camera as he lies shirtless and in a pair of jeans with two buttons undone, his sculpted physique on display.

Impressive for people who are into that sort of beefcake lust. She even bought you one for your birthday that you had slipped to another co-worker.

“You know, I loved Mr. December but there’s something about a former military man,” Janet continues, placing her phone back on the desk. “I’ve met him a few times, you know.”

“Mr. December?” you ask, wondering why she asked to see you in her office so quickly the minute you had walked in.

Clearly, judging by the way Janet moves back and forth in her chair, waiting for you to give her a play by play of your interaction with him, this isn’t any sort of serious business by your standard.

“No, silly. Mr. March. He was with Mr. July when they were signing calendars. Hotter in person and he comes to the library a lot.”

“Ah.”

There’s not much else you can say, Janet continuing on with her quick meet and greet. You like having her as a boss most of the time. She’s damn good at her job when she wants to be and makes long days bearable because she watches reality television and can recite pop culture facts when you need a distraction.

“So he’s coming back today,” Janet asks, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. “Did he tell you what time?”

“No.”

You know why she’s invested but it still makes no sense as to why she’s asking. For all it’s worth, she can give him the books – as long as he’s made good on his word to bring the other one back.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t give him the books.”

“It’s policy,” you protest, frowning at her response. “In section twenty-four, it states -”

Janet waves her hand in the air to brush away the rest of your statement.

“I know what it says. It’s a guideline, sort of. I guess it worked out in our favor, since he agreed to come back. Damn it,” Janet says with a disappointed sigh. “I wish I was an Omega. Leave it to my Beta parents to birth yet another Beta.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a Beta. Trust me,” you counter, seeing her shrug. If anything, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest, seeing her straighten her posture when her office phone rings.

It rarely does and that’s your cue to leave, getting up as she answers it nervously, grasping the receiver while mouthing that she’ll continue the conversation later. It’s a reprieve that you take, closing the door behind you and exhaling a breath.

“Next in line?” you ask, breaking away from cataloging a new set of books that arrived. Your co-worker Lily is on her break, leaving you to man the desk.

The sound of a book plopped onto the counter gets your attention, peeling your attention away from the monitor to see him again, straightening your shoulders at the sight of the missing book in front of you.

He raises an eyebrow at you, his scent hitting your nose before you clear your throat. You aren’t going to be swayed by some Alpha, no matter how good he may look or smell.

“Library card?” you ask.

He hands it to you without hesitation, swiping the card through the reader before scanning the book back in.

“Thank you for bringing back the book, Mr. Barnes.”

“Thank you for keeping your word and holding my books for me.”

You know he can see them on the counter, taking the book and dropping it in the bin.

“We had an agreement,” you remind him, turning to get the books from the counter. When you lift the sticky note, he clears his throat.

“What name did you use to hold them?”

Pausing, you don’t answer, wondering why he would ask such a question.

“The name you told me.”

“Really?” he questions. “James or Bucky?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does in case I accidentally hold onto a book for another three years. Someone else could come in here and request my books I place on hold. Or rather, that you place on hold. What if you aren’t here? Someone could give my books away.”

“I would place it under any name you choose.”

“Then what was the name you put?”

Like a dog after a bone, you think, saying nothing in response to him, placing the books onto the counter without the note that is crumpled into your closed fist.

“Barnes,” you lie, keeping a straight face as he looks disappointed.

“That’s very formal.”

“This is a library,” you recite, scanning the books one by one. “And I also would write down your library card number so they could look it up.”

“You did that this time too?”

Your back stiffens at his inquiry.

“No.”

“Why not?

“Because I’m here today,” you explain to him slowly, like you would with someone understanding this for the first time.

“Fair. I mean, I do like the individual service.”

You clear your throat, pushing the books over to him.

“Individual service is something we strive for at the library. Books are due within thirty days of today’s date. As you remember from our last conversation, you will be unable to borrow any books if these are not returned in a timely manner.”

He nods in understanding, still watching you before you frown.

“Did you need anything else? You have your books,” you remind him.

“No, I guess not. Sorry, I…” he trails off. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry that I didn’t return the book I borrowed in a timely manner and I really appreciate the grace you’ve given me to hold the books I can’t wait to read.”

For a moment, you relax at his soft tone. Alphas scare you – always have – but this one showing you a little grace gives you a slight hesitation of whether or not you can allow this proverbial olive branch.

“You picked some great choices,” you compliment, seeing the hint of a smile on his lips. “And it was my pleasure.”

There’s a sound of a table squeaking loudly, two children shouting over what appears to be a teddy bear that the library allows for reading in groups, sending you on high alert to check on them.

“Sorry, I need to see what’s going on,” you murmur, moving away from the desk and toward the commotion, your co-worker rushing toward the deafening screams, passing you by.

You slow your steps when the meltdown is solved – another teddy bear to the rescue as everyone quiets down.

“Hey, you dropped this,” he says behind you, leaning down to pick up the crumpled sticky note as the horror of what he will see sinks in.

“I can take it,” you say quickly, Bucky reading the note before he smiles right in your face.

“You’re a good liar,” he says with a nod, handing you the note that you take from his hand. Embarrassment floods your entire being, your face hot with anxiety when he nods.

“I guess that’s my claim to fame. Wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who has one of those calendars though. Janet on the other hand…”

“I don’t,” you snap, shoving the note into the pocket of your skirt. “It was a little inside joke.”

“For who?”

“I have to go on break,” you rush out, head down as you head toward the back of the library. “Have a good day, Mr. Barnes.”

“I will,” he says behind you, his voice full of amusement. “You too.”

Two bags of take out are on the kitchen counter, Steve giving a sheepish smile at his roommate.

“I know, I know. It’s my turn to make dinner but I got caught up with -”

“The Omega in 7C?” Bucky asks, picking at the plastic ties of the bag, his mouth watering at the scent of what Steve bought for dinner.

“It’s not like that,” Steve refutes with a shake of his head. “She’s… you know that apartment is run down. She won’t move because she said she gets a discount on her rent and…”

Steve trails off, noticing Bucky looking at him with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Steve continues, Bucky doling out their dinner onto two paper plates. “She’s just a nice girl who happens to have a… not great apartment.”

“Steve, you know it’s okay if you like her. I think she likes you too.”

That does it, Steve’s cheeks burning bright when he digs into his dinner.

��It’s not like that, Buck.”

“I didn’t say it was. Attraction is attraction.”

“It’s our designation,” Steve points out. “It’s natural, pretty textbook.”

“Yeah? Then why did you stomp around the house the other day when 7A insulted her?”

“Because Peter Quill is a complete asshole. Can you believe he mentioned wanting to help her through her heat? Who says that to a complete stranger? He’s also a complete idiot, by the way,” Steve fumes, taking an angry bite of his dinner, chewing quickly as Bucky nods and waits for him to finish. “He put dishwashing liquid into his dishwasher and wanted to know why there were suds everywhere, he called me Super Maintenance Bro and I am not his bro, Bucky, there is no way he should even be allowed near 7C, let alone any Omega.”

Steve lets out a short exhale, shaking his head in disbelief when Bucky decides to poke around.

“She has you,” Bucky points out, Steve not replying as he eats. “You told me you made sure she locked her door because she always forgets. If you didn’t care about her, you wouldn’t do that. Nor would she send you pizza or whatever the hell else she gives us when you fix something of hers. And it’s always your favorite comfort foods, Steve.”

“We’re just tenants and I happen to be the maintenance man.”

Bucky snorts in response, Steve rolling his eyes.

“And what about you? Two trips to the library in two days? That’s unusual,” Steve quips. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Steve gives Bucky a deadpan stare, Bucky picking around his plate with his fork.

“You came home with three new books today and I haven’t seen you smile that much since you got your new job. What gives?”

“Just like reading.”

“Uh huh,” Steve agrees sarcastically. “I wonder if there’s a new librarian there. Or maybe you’ve let your guard down and decided to give Janet a chance.”

Bucky does laugh then, Steve breaking into a smile as they fall into a comfortable silence.

He’s not ready to talk about you yet. Mostly because there’s nothing to talk about in this current moment and there’s nothing else he can say without Steve getting more ammunition to tease him.

Truthfully, he half expected you to back down when he was asking you questions but you kept up with him. For a moment, while Steve launches into a story about work and his co-worker Scott, he zones out thinking of the slight nose scrunch you gave him when you were displeased with his questions, the wide-eyed gaze of surprise when he picked up the paper that you had dropped.

A napkin hits him square in the forehead, breaking his concentration.

“What was that for?”

“Daydreaming about the library,” Steve replies with a sly smile. “Looks like I’m not the only one with someone on their mind, am I?”

Bucky looks down at his empty plate and shrugs, knowing that Steve probably won't buy his next line.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #a/b/o fic #alpha bucky barnes

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 10 months ago

Text

A Long, *Hard* Night with Eijiro Kirishima

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Kirishima x Fem Reader!!!!

Note: Ok my first Smut post - this is explicit so A18+ ONLY!!

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Dating

cw: MDNI!, fem reader, adult Pro-heros, all characters are A20+, blowjob, finger fucking, dirty talk, explicit content, romance

My Master List!

The first time you give Kirishima a blowjob, he asks you to use a condom.

It all starts out hot, heavy and hazy. A late night out with your joint friend group at the bar lead to a few close brushes and stolen glances. You both had been flirting shamelessly with each other for weeks.

You’re chatting with Mina and watching the cute bar tender pour espresso martinis when you feel your phone buzz. You pull the device out of your pocket and see a message from Kirishima flash across the screen – You wanna get out of here?

Instantly your eyes lock across the crowded bar and he hits you with a mischievous grin. There’s a question in his eyes as he nods towards the door. You smile back wickedly, and it’s the only answer he needs.

A half hour later you’re in his bed, running your hands under his shirt and across his toned stomach. Kirishima kisses down your neck and you moan as his hands creep under the hem of your shirt. Before long, you’re both in your underwear and breathing heavy.

You climb off of the pro hero and slide off the bed. He pouts at the loss of contact.

You stand back and drink him in – he’s absolutely gorgeous. His hair has fallen out of its usually spiked-up style and lies flat, dropping almost to his shoulders. The past few years of hero work show in his toned muscle and in the light scars that crisscross his upper chest and arms. His boxers stretch tightly across his toned thighs and you can see his arousal clearly through the thin black fabric. You almost lick your lips as you imagine what he looks like naked. Kirishima is so turned on right now that he can barely stand it. Yet there he lies - sweet faced and smiling at you. He’s eager to please, and very much enjoying the attention your eyes are giving his body. He likes the hungry look in your eyes as you appraise him.

“Come here.” You motion for him to slide to the edge of the bed. He obliges, drawn to you like a moth to flame. As he moves to the end of his bed, you slowly kneel before him. “I’m about to give you the best head of your life.”

You can tell that he loves hearing that – it’s so hot, the way you’re using your commanding pro hero tone on him. You see his dick twitch through the thin fabric of his boxers at the promise of your lips around him.

You grin, running a fingertip down his chest, across the expanse of his muscled stomach, and right to the elastic of his boxers. He shivers at the delicate contact. You move to slip your hand beneath the waistband of his underwear when he lightly grabs your hand to stop you.

“Hey – can we slow down for a minute?” He says sheepishly, looking down at you with soft eyes. You blink, the tension between you suddenly broken.

“Of course.” You say, worrying that you did something to make the unbreakable hero uncomfortable. He holds out a hand and pulls you to your feet, inviting you to sit next to him on the bed so that you’re on even ground.

“What’s up? Do you want to stop?” You ask, concern lacing your voice. You and Kirishima have known each other for a few years as casual friends, but you don’t know much about his dating history. The two of you have never discussed past hookups and now you wonder if he has some sexual trauma that you have unwittingly triggered.

“Oh my God – no! I absolutely want to keep going.” He says sincerely, reaching out to put a large, warm hand on your bare thigh. The contact turns you on so fast you need to squeeze your legs together to keep your libido at bay. Kirishima smirks, and you know your reaction didn’t go unnoticed. “I’ve pictured this night with you for weeks – months, even. I’ve wanted you so bad since you wore that crazy dress at the agency’s winter gala last year.”

You smile, thinking back to the strappy blue number you wore to the party of the year. The glittery high heels. The long, elegant slit up your left leg. You had been an absolute bombshell. But still - it’s shocking to think that Kirishima has burned for you for this long.

“Then did I do something that you didn’t like? Talk to me Eijiro.” The use of his given name takes him a bit by surprise. He can’t quite meet your eyes as he struggles to string an answer together.

“Well – shit this is awkward – I want a blowjob. Of course I want a blowjob from you – you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever met!” His hand, still on your thigh, squeezes pointedly as he says this. “But since it’s our first time together and we really haven’t discussed where we stand on exclusivity and STI tests…I’d really appreciate it if you let me wear a condom while you do it. If you still want to do it, that is.”

You look at him, perplexed. You think that never, in the history of all mankind, has a man so desperate to get his dick sucked asked to wear a condom during the act.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that – I think it’s the most responsible way to move forward until we have time to properly sit down and talk through what this is.” He gestures at the two of you with his free hand. And then it hits you – this is some classic chivalry shit. Kirishima is trying to set a boundary that respects the sexual and physical health of everyone involved. You grin.

“I’ve never done it that way before, but if you help me along I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

Kirishima’s body seems to sag with relief. “I know it’s a little weird…but it’s really important to me. I’ve had some challenges with partners in the past and I-”

You silence him with a kiss. “Eijiro, it’s totally fine. You don’t need to explain. Unless there’s any other boundaries or trauma triggers you want to talk through before we go any further?”

His smile is wide. “I knew you were cool the moment I met you. Nah, that’s it for now. I just ask that you let me know if you’re not into something. We can stop anytime you want.” He gets up and walks across the room to his dresser, popping open the second drawer and reaching inside to produce a bright orange box of flavored condoms.

“The chivalrous hero is always prepared.” You say sarcastically, smiling as he blushes a deep red.

“I’ve got a great handle on my brand – even in the bedroom.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and the two of you laugh. He cracks open the box and pulls out a string of bright foil condoms, the packaging glints in the low light. “What flavor would you prefer? We’ve got strawberry, banana, grape…oh, shit! I forgot they come in different colors, too.”

“What colors we talking?” You look over curiously.

“Let’s see…” He holds up the packages so he can read in the semi-darkness. “We’ve got red, yellow, purple, and green. It’s your pick!”

“Omg let’s do green…” You cover your mouth as you cackle out “so you can have a…cucumber dick!! Ha!” Kirishima laughs along with you and tears off the green condom package, haphazardly abandoning the rest of the box in his half-opened dresser drawer.

He walks back over to the bed and sits down, handing the shiny package to you. “You’re in control of this next part.” He says softly, and you can see he’s getting hard again underneath his boxers. You feel a spark in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh yeah? Number 12 Pro-Hero Red Riot likes to be taken care of?” You slide off the bed and get back into kneeling position beneath him, your small hands sliding up his muscular thighs and squeezing. He groans as you run your right hand slowly up his clothed length, dragging your finger along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“You’re being so good for me…” You whisper, dipping your fingertips underneath the waistband of his boxers to feel soft skin. You tease him, running your hand along the sensitive “V” of his waist, avoiding his dick. His eyes close and his head drops back. Oh – it seems that Kirishima has a praise kink. You smile at this delicious development, and decide to see how far you can push him.

“You’re getting so hard for me, baby.” You pull your hand out from under his boxers and reach up to slide them smoothly down his toned legs. He whimpers and lifts his ass to help you take off his underwear. His rock hard cock springs out of the garment and comes to rest flush against his taught abs. Unsurprisingly, he’s huge – you absentmindedly lick your lips as you take in his perfect length. He is just as beautiful as you imagined – and his tip is absolutely dripping with anticipation.

You toss his boxers over your shoulder and reach for the flavored condom. You examine the thin square and see a small watermelon emoji printed on the smooth silver packaging. You smirk and look up to see Kirishima staring at you from up on the bed, pupils blown wide with arousal. His left hand is twitching towards his dick, seemingly waiting for permission. You meet his gaze as you bring the package to your mouth and slowly tear the perforated strip back using your bright teeth. “Touch yourself for me, baby.” And he does, grasping his member lightly as he begins to pleasure himself with gentle, languid strokes. He watches you pull out the condom, features taught with anticipation.

“Good boy.” You whisper, and he groans in response. “I’m gonna make you feel sooo good with my mouth, Eijiro.”

He picks up his pace. His cock is so hard you can see it spasm in his hand. “My rock hard hero.” He smiles at the endearment.

After a few moments, you put your hand to his wrist and motion for him to stop. He releases his dick and it springs back to attention against his rippling abdomen. You lean forward and place the bright green condom on his length, taking your time to slowly roll it down all the way to the base of his member. He shudders at the intimate touch, and his eyes widen as you cleanly spit into the palm of your hand. You reach to stroke his dick a few times to make sure the condom’s in place, and realize that the green latex comes pre-lubricated. Your saliva mixes with a thin sheen of liquid, causing your hand to move smoothly across Kirishima’s hard dick.

“You seem to know exactly what you’re doing.” He pants, grinning as you continue to pump his length.

“Well what can I say? I’m a Pro at everything I do.” You mutter before leaning forward to pull his cock into your mouth. He hisses at the unexpected contact as you circle his tip with the edge of your tongue.

“Baby…” He whines out, as you move to drag your tongue up the underside of his dick.

“Wow you’re big.” You whisper, re-tracing up his length again. You look up at him through your lashes. “An impressive dick for an impressive goddamn hero.”

He absolutely loves that, and suddenly he’s scrambling to pull you up into his lap so that you’re straddling him. He kisses you fiercely, eyes closed, one hand twisted in your hair. And you’re kissing him back with just as much fervor – gasping as you feel his hard length press against your wet panties.

“I think we should take these off.” He says between kisses, reaching blindly to push your underwear down. You stand up shakily and stumble as you try to hop out of your practical cotton panties. You strip them off and toss them into a pile with Kirishima’s boxers.

You don’t even have a second to breathe before he pulls you back into his lap and starts sloppily making out with you again. You both groan as his condomed dick slips against your wet pussy. You reach down and reposition his length it so that he’s right against your clit. He grinds slowly against you, making you both see stars.

Kirishima kisses down your jawline and up to your ear to whisper: “I’m not ready to have penetrative sex just yet – is it ok if we just keep going like this?” You nod breathlessly as you roll your hips against his hard dick, already close to orgasm. It’s slippery and hot and he knows exactly what he’s doing as he licks his fingers and reaches between you to massage your swollen clit.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He pants, moving his fingers deftly against you. “I’ve always wanted to see you like this – absolutely undone and naked on top of me.”

“Eijiro…” You whimper as he rolls against you again. The lube of the condom allows his cock to slip comfortably along your folds. “I’m…I’m gonna cum! Is it okay if I cum?” Your face starts to heat up as you feel an orgasm welling up in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes! Yes, please – cum for me baby.” His voice is rough as you feel your body start to shudder and explode. You’re dimly aware of him whispering, “Oh my God, this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You ride out your orgasm slowly, gasping at the way his fingers continue to draw out your pleasure. He’s smiling as his fingers and cock slip against you, a wave of heat between the two of you. You laugh as he slows his pace, then removes his hand when you become too sensitive. He envelops you in an embrace, bringing his fingertips up to trace along your back softly. You shiver as you come down from your high, your head swimming with an image of his sharp red eyes clouded over with lust.

“That was...” You turn your head so that your foreheads touch. You kiss him soundly. “That was just…wow. I knew you had to be good with your hands…but that. That was a whole other level of Pro Hero work.” You both laugh, his face is glowing with the praise.

“Hey, anytime.” Kirishima leans forward to kiss you back. “And I mean anytime.”

Your heart leaps at the implication, and your brain jumps through a few hot situations where you’d like to ask Kirishima to drop what he’s doing to pleasure you. One particular fantasy comes to mind, in which you’re locking your office door while Eijiro sits on your desk unbuckling his belt. You shake your head to clear away an image of him fucking you in your office. One hookup at a time, girl! You refocus.

“If it’s alright with you…I’d like to suck your dick properly now.” You plant a wet kiss on his left cheek. You can tell that Eijiro is trying not to seem overeager, but the impatient cock throbbing against your pussy is a dead giveaway.

“I’d really love that, cutie.” He leans forward to catch your mouth in another of his searing kisses. A moment later, you swing your legs off of him and your feet hit the ground shakily. You didn’t realize how much the orgasm had taken out of you as you duck-walk over to his dresser. Wordlessly, you open a drawer and fish out the brightly colored box of condoms.

“Let’s do red this time…for Red Riot.” You find a strawberry flavored condom and quickly tear the foil packaging. You turn to see Eijiro sitting on the bed practically quaking with anticipation. You smirk, legs like jelly as you return to the bed with the fresh condom.

You bend over him and swap out the slippery, stretched green condom for the fresh red one. When you’re done, you give his rock hard member an approving pat. “There – good as new!”

He laughs with you as he sinks back into the bed, ready for you to work your magic. It’s nice to be this comfortable with someone – to be able to joke in between the sex. To be shamelessly naked in another person’s presence. You can’t remember the last time you’ve slept with someone like this – the last time it was this easy.

You spread his legs out and push him the rest of the way into the mattress before kneeling on the ground between muscular thighs.

“Hold on a sec – here, take this.” He reaches behind his head to grab a pillow, which he lobs your way. You smile appreciatively as you tuck the pillow beneath your knees.

“You’re such a gentleman.” You praise, before running your tongue up his length. “Now let’s reward you for being so manly and chivalrous.” It’s almost funny how those words are almost enough to push Eijiro over the edge. His face flushes and you see his hands grip the sheets above you.

“You like it when I praise you, huh? Want me to keep telling you what a good little hero you are?” You lick underneath the tip of his cock, teasing. Eijiro lets out a needy moan. “Such a manly, strong hero. You deserve to be taken care of after working so hard to keep everyone safe.”

And with that, you take his entire length into your mouth. You put on a good show – sloppily bringing your lips down to the base of his cock and running your fingertips along the underside of his balls. You squeeze them experimentally and he groans at the sensation. You begin to bob up and down on his firm member, hollowing out your cheeks with intent to suck the life out of him. He brings a heavy hand up to rest in your hair as you work, smoothing your bangs out of your face as he does so.

You slurp up his dick and can see that he’s getting close. You use your left hand and continue to massage his balls and the base of his cock lightly. You hum softly, and the vibrations of your mouth and throat send absolute shivers up his body. His cock is twitching in your mouth and his balls are all but pulsing in anticipation of his release.

Time for the grand finale - you start to suck on the head of his dick, taking care to stimulate him with some impressive suction before releasing him with a loud “pop” of your lips. He groans at the loss of contact, running his free hand messily through his hair with sexual frustration.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as you take a quick breather. You look at the absolute wreckage of a man laying on the bed before you. His pupils are wide and blissed out and his body is tense as he takes quick and shallow breaths.

You look him straight in the eyes as you let your tongue dart across your wet mouth. You stare him down, a dare mounting in your eyes. You want to drive him completely over the edge, and he knows it. He looks at you hungrily, desperately. “You know…Red Riot has got to be my favorite Pro Hero.”

And with that – he’s gone. Eijiro grabs either side of your face and practically stuffs his dick back into your mouth. You eagerly accept him in, moving your tongue to accommodate his size. Within moments, he’s face fucking you – hands gripping and pulling your hair as he starts to cum in your sweet little mouth.

“Oh my God.” He stutters out, his hips pistoning into you as he rides out his orgasm. His purposeful thrusts draw an unintentional whine of pleasure out of you. The noise makes him smile, and as he finishes his pace begins to slow. Finally, blissed-out and boneless, he slowly pulls his softening dick out of your mouth.

It takes a moment for you to realize that there’s an unexpected advantage of giving a blowjob using a condom – easy cleanup. Eijiro carefully rolls the spent condom off of his member before tying it off and tossing it in a wastepaper basket across the room. He flops blissfully backward onto his bed, butt naked and handsome. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat and looks like he’s absolutely glowing.

He holds his arms out to you expectantly and you climb into them, giggling as he wraps himself around you and rolls you both to the side so he can spoon you. You feel his exhausted cock feebly twitch as it makes contact with your bare ass. You smile to yourself as you wonder how long he will need to recover before he’s hard again.

His arms encircle you with warmth; a big hand comes down to lay flat across the plush skin of your tummy as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“That was…” He’s trying to find the words to describe the passionate exchange you just shared but comes up flat.

“…the best head you’ve ever had?” You supply helpfully, a sly smile playing at your lips. This earns you a belly laugh as he plants a kiss on the side of your head.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what it was.” He pauses, taking a moment to compose himself. “I swear this isn’t just the afterglow talkin’ – but would you like to go out sometime? I’d like to take you on a real date.”

You open your mouth to respond but he forages on ahead before you have a chance to form words.

“I want to date you. Fully. Exclusively. I want take you to dinner, the movies – even to that stupid hero gala at the end of the year. The works.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I want you to wear that strappy sexy dress to the next work party and I want everyone there to see you and know that I’m your date. I want us to hangout at the bar with our friends and be able to just hold hands and be silly and couple-y. I want to have sex with you like this…all the damn time.”

He sounds so sure of himself as he says this next part – “I’ve felt this way for a while – and I’m hoping that you maybe feel the same?”

You can practically feel his heart jumping in his chest behind you.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend Eijiro?”

“Well – we don’t need to put a label on it just yet if you’re not comfortable. We can take some time to feel things out and just-”

“Yes.”

“Huh?” He’s frozen around you, thinking your answer is too good to be true.

“Absolutely. Yes. I want to be your girlfriend.” The tumble of words comes out of your mouth before you even register what’s happening. “Let’s do it all – dates, team-ups, galas, sex. There’s really no one else I’d want to share all of that with. And yeah – I’ve felt this way for a while, too.”

Behind you, Eijiro grins so widely he practically radiates sunshine. “Sounds like we’ve got a full blown relationship on our hands here, sweetheart.”

You feel your face blush at the term of endearment. “Usually I wouldn’t go rushing into something so quickly…but this. Us. I don’t know…it just feels right.” You muse, as he kisses your bare shoulder softly. “I guess we have been shamelessly flirting for months on end though.”

“Gotta love a slow burn.” Kirishima supplies, kissing the side of your head and then shifting away from you as he moves to get off the bed.

“Where are you going, hot stuff?” You gently swat his bare ass as he stands up, delighting in chuckle you elicit from the hardening hero.

He walks around the bed to kneel before you, settling between your legs. He grabs your thighs and pulls you roughly towards him, bringing your butt to the edge of the bed.

“So now that things are all official…I think I’d better return the favor. Any interest in receiving the best head of your life?” He starts kissing up our leg and you shiver with excitement. Oh, hell yes.

“Hold on – if I had to use a condom to blow you, that means that if you’re gonna go down on me you need to use…” You search the deep recesses of your mind and try to recall what you learned in high school sex ed. “…a dental dam? Is that a thing?”

Kirishima pulls away from where he’s licking up your thigh to give you one of his trademarked-shark-toothed grins. “Go check the dresser drawer, there’s a box of them to the right. A good Pro Hero is always prepared.”

You smile back at him – it’s going to be a long, hard night.

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Thanks for reading!! 💕 You can check out more ~spicy~ fics on My Master List!

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