#well. it could go either way. but i’d lean towards “will be accepting but it’ll strain things for a time first while they process”

[stars-obsession-pit]

Jack and Maddie have realized something horrifying. Their son is being possessed by a dangerous ghost, and has been for some time. They don’t know exactly how long, but looking back, the signs had been for a while.

His strange reactions to their ghost hunting inventions, his new habit of vanishing from his room (or even from school) randomly, his sudden decline in grades, and a million other small things. The issues had gotten worse recently, but had been present for some time. It painted a grim picture. Had he been fighting it this whole time, the ghost gradually wearing away at his will?

No, that can be worried about later. First things first, they’re going to forcibly evict the monster and make sure that no ghost will ever be able to take over his body again.

…meanwhile, Danny is panicking with his friends about his newest foe. A remarkably powerful ghost who stole his body and keeps thwarting every attempt to take it back. Even beyond the typical dangers of a powerful ghost being out and about, its actions could end up revealing him!

[hongism]

05 - j.wooyoung + lingerie (18+)

» j.wooyoung x gn!reader » 18+ dni if minor, nsfw/pwp » language, feminization, lap dancing, strip tease, bratty wooyoung, manual stimulation, grinding, cum eating, dirty talk, finger sucking » wc 3.3k » link to masterlist

you’ve almost come to the conclusion that tonight was a complete and utter waste of time when your eyes pause in their subtle search across the room. it’s fast, and you almost miss him because of how quickly you’re surveying the club, but you have to backtrack at the sight of the pink head of hair. it’s not too out of the ordinary — not for a club like this one at least, and frankly, the face connected to the stark hair entrances you more than the hair does. the friend at your side seems to notice where your gaze keeps lingering, elbow careening into your ribs seconds later.

“like what you see over there?” she giggles, most likely amused by how you jolt and startle with the contact.

“he’s pretty,” you mutter back as you strain your neck a little to catch sight of the rest of him. he’s not up on a stage with the other dancers, not wrapped around a pole or anything like that, so you can’t get a full and clear view of what he’s wearing.

“he doesn’t perform with the others, i hear. solo performer, and only does private shows.”

sure, there’s a stack of money set aside for this particular reason, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to cave and spend it all on this one man.

you aren’t.

it’s not going to stop you from getting up and going over there to get a better look at him.

“i’ll be back,” you mutter, picking up your wallet and drink with the same hand. you’re hoping it won’t look obvious to your friend, but the laugh that follows your movements is telling enough.

“have fun!”

you step through the crowd of couches that are mostly full of older men and women, apologizing each time you cross in front of them and accidentally block their view of the dancers. your target hasn’t moved, still lingering near the bar with a drink set in front of him as he also indulges in the sight of the dancers on stage. you’re almost fooled into believing that he’s simply a client here and not actually a worker, but there’s a certain sway to his hips and head against the music thumping through the club that says otherwise. he moves his body too well even with subtle and small movements. elbows propped up on the bar counter behind him, a lollipop dangling from his fingertips and periodically going up to catch on his tongue, and that pretty pink hair bouncing with each movement he makes. you’re enticed in an instant.

the obscenity of his outfit doesn’t help one bit either. and perhaps obscenity is a bit too strong a word to describe it, but your brain goes to static and white noise the more you see of him, and it’s easy to see why that is. a sheer lavender crop top that does nothing to hide the lace bralette underneath, along with a pretty plaid skirt that tapers his waist almost too well, belts and buckles hanging from both sides and jingling when he sways his hips in time with the music. the further down your eyes go, the more overwhelmed you get because he’s got fishnets (of course) that lead to chunky black combat boots. he looks simultaneously quite out of place here while also seeming like there’s no other logical place for him to be. your steps towards him falter a little; it’s no wonder that he doesn’t have anyone at his side right now. he’d outshine them without even trying, and the air around him feels a bit untouchable as well like he’s too good for anyone’s presence except his own and the bartender behind him. the thought to turn around and return to your friend like a dog with its tail between its legs crosses your mind. that’s all it does though because as you shift to act on that thought, sharp eyes snap over to meet yours across the bar counter.

opposite ends of the spectrum, separated by at least ten barstools if not more, plenty of other people in front of him to look at, yet the dancer cranes his head in your direction and makes eye contact. 

your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, an act more out of nerves than meant to be seductive in the slightest. 

there’s no direct invitation to go further towards him. really all he does is incline his head slightly, and you take it as a cue to step around the barstools and walk over to where he’s tapping his chunky boot against the floor.

“hi.”

you startle upon hearing his clear tone, although you aren’t wholly sure why that’s the case. 

“hello,” you greet in return. you keep your glass caught firmly between your fingers as you sit in the barstool beside him. he looks even prettier in this light — with blinking up at him from where you sit and the neon lights cascading over his face and hair. there’s a stunning beauty mark under his eye, and another on his lower lip under the sheen of pink lip gloss. something sparkles under his eyes and in the inner corners, what you can only assume to be eyeshadow and glitter. 

“i caught your eye, huh?”

there’s a twinge of embarrassment that shoots through your body, and you duck your chin to your chest, clearing your throat as quietly as you can like it’ll dispel the nerves accompanied by the feeling. 

“cute,” the man continues. his sweet tone is almost like honey, or some syrup that tastes like it could be too much after a certain point. “wanna buy my time then?”

the offer comes so quickly that you’re a bit shocked. all these people in the club and yet not one has approached him? or accepted his offer? it seems far too unbelievable.

“you’re not gonna ask me anything first? my name, my age, anything like that?”

he laughs for the first time tonight, and you think you’ll grow to love that sound by the end of it. the lollipop pushes back between his lips only for him to make a show of how he swirls his tongue around the ball of candy. when he pulls it back out, it springs free with a lewd pop in its wake.

“you’re the first one tonight who’s stopped me to ask that. most just jump straight to it. i’m wooyoung. and you?”

“y/n.”

“hmm, it’ll sound prettier coming from my lips later.”

your brain buffers and hits a wall. you lose whatever thought was lingering in your mind, and wooyoung has the audacity to flash a grin and send a wink your way.

“you’re in luck tonight, y/n. i only start taking clients at ten o’clock, and it’s two minutes past ten right now.” a strobe of neon red flashes over his face, illuminating his eyes in a way that makes your heart jump in your chest. “assuming you want me, that is,” he adds through a stretched grin, and you wouldn’t dream of denying him the pleasure of hearing your affirmation.

“yes, i’d like that quite a bit.”

wooyoung leads you off to the side of the club, where the hallway of private rooms begins, and he wastes no time in bringing you into the nearest unlocked one. you’ve got your wallet still clasped between nervous hands, but your drink was long forgotten on the bar counter you found wooyoung at. it’s fairly standard for this type of room, nothing to gawk at or make note of aside from the metal pole that stretches up to the ceiling. you’re certain your attention will be firmly planted on wooyoung throughout the entirety of your stay here, so you aren’t worried much about making yourself at home.

the dancer seems keen on the same as well, or at least he’s excited to get started. knowing how much money you’ve got in your wallet, you can’t blame him for the excitement. he turns to face you after shutting and locking the door, skirt billowing around his thighs a little. you think you see a flash of lace underneath, tucked under the fishnets, but that could very well be merely a wistful thought and nothing else. 

“lay down,” he demands, motioning to the short round table right in front of the couches.

“um…” you blink from the white surface to wooyoung’s serious expression. 

“what? never had a lap dance before?” he quirks a brow and flashes another dastardly grin, and you hate the way your stomach flips over at the sight of it.

“not one where i’ve had to lay down, no.” 

wooyoung huffs out a laugh and pops his lollipop back into his mouth. he steps around your awkward, still form to put one of his feet up on the pristine white surface. the boot releases a hollow noise when it hits the table.

“oh, you’ll love it, i promise. now come on, on your back, legs relaxed. i’ll make it worth your while. and your money too, we hope.” 

wooyoung’s little tilt to his chin and the soft bats of his lashes are what convince you to do as told. you slip your shoes off next to the couch and tuck your wallet away in one of them lest wooyoung has the bright idea to make off with all your belongings. then you scramble over the slick surface to lay flat atop it, eyeing wooyoung as he hums and steps up fully on the table over you. his feet straddle your body, right in the gap between your hands and hips, and he pushes that stupid lollipop back between his lips.

“here are my rules, y/n. no touching, no kissing on the lips, no marking, and no demands. you’re here for a show, so i’ll give you one. and maybe i’ll use you to get off a little too? what do you say?”

you suck your lower lip between your teeth, contemplating his words and rolling them over in your mind a bit.

“and if i say no?”

“then i’ll give you a simple lap dance, and that’ll be that. and don’t worry. if i cum… i’ll clean up after myself. you don’t have to do any work really, if you don’t want to.”

“if i don’t want to?” you echo your question.

“how do you feel about sucking my fingers?”

your dumb and stuttered blinking are answer enough for him, and wooyoung leans over to the couch, balancing on one foot as he stretches to reach for something on the cushions. the position give you a far too direct view straight up his skirt. you get confirmation that you did indeed spot lace — a matching set with his pink bralette it seems on top of that.

the music that begins to thump through the speaks is foreign to you, not a song you’ve ever heard before, but the beat is sultry enough for you to understand why wooyoung would play this.

and truly, when he starts to move above you, you fully understand the appeal of this angle. getting to watch the way his skirt sways and teases what’s underneath as his cropped top flutters with his winding movements — it’s a heady feeling being under him and seeing this unfold over you.

wooyoung does his job, and he does it well in only a few swaying moves that promise more to come. if you had to make a comparison, you’d say it’s like watching art in motion, an exhibit where the artist shows you each stroke and twist of his brush. that’s wooyoung now, with the showcase of how he stretches his arms to the ceiling and brings them down the front of his body. the dim lighting in the room does nothing to make the mood less than what it is — pure seduction at its finest, and wooyoung is quickly bringing you down that pit of lust with him. you only know that’s where he’s headed as well because of how his skirt begins to tent a little as time goes on, evidence to how turned on he is by merely dancing to the music. he hasn’t gotten down far enough to even have physical contact with you, but with the way he’s moving now, you aren’t sure he’ll even get that far either.

he does go lower as the song shifts, beat still unfamiliar against your ears, but you’re barely hearing the music beyond how the bass thumps through your veins. as his knees settle on either side of you, close to your waist now and closing in just enough to squeeze you with a hair of pressure, his hands move up under the fabric of his top. they press higher and higher, catching on the hem and tugging as he reaches his neck. your eyes burn like you haven’t blinked in ages, and to be frank, you most likely haven’t because the grip wooyoung has on your focus currently occupies every fiber of your being.

wooyoung works the shirt off, tossing the sheer material over to the side. the look of his tanned skin with blush pink lace overtop clinging to him like a vice under the low lights: it’s sin in its purest form. and that sin only amplifies as he draws his hands down to the waistband of his skirt. he teases and pulls at the material, still lost somewhere between his mind and the music. one of his hands works back up his chest and throat, and when he reaches his mouth, he pulls the lollipop stick out to reveal a now empty stick that is also promptly tossed in the same direction his shirt went. 

“aren’t i pretty, y/n?” he asks all of a sudden. he’s not looking at you, not with the way his eyelids are barely shut, but it captures all your attention nonetheless. “pretty and feminine, hm? some people think i don’t dance as well as the girls out on the stages. but i’m just as pretty as them, aren’t i?”

“more,” you exhale without thinking.

“more,” he echoes back to you with an airy giggle to accompany it. his hands go to the side of his skirt, grabbing onto something on the left, and two seconds later he’s pulling away the entire strip of fabric in one swift movement. you inhale so sharply it stings your nostrils and aches in your chest, and wooyoung takes that as the opportune moment to roll his hips down against your abdomen. it’s not meant for your please, not in the slightest, but you still feel the coil of arousal in your gut snap and pull at itself as he repeats the motion and rubs his barely concealed erection against your stomach. “i’m always prettier than them, y/n.”

wooyoung’s eyes snap open at last, and he drops his skirt to the side before sitting up on his knees over you. the position is nothing if not lewd with how close to your face he is like this. you don’t have much time to think about it because he’s tugging the band of his fishnets down as well, shoes still caught on his feet so there’s no way they’ll go all the way off, but that doesn’t seem to be his intention anyway.

no, wooyoung just tugs them low enough to go under his knees, then he’s back to sitting on his heels and splaying his thighs to the side. the whole thing is a show: each piece of clothing, each drag of his hands, and every word from his lips. 

it continues with him pressing his hand against your chin, then teasing your lower lip with his middle and pointer fingers.

“you know… people always call me a brat. a bratty little bitch, to be specific. they aren’t wrong, of course. but they mean it as an insult whereas i take it as a compliment.” you suck wooyoung’s fingers between your lips and let him explore your mouth with the pads of them. he makes a show of stretching the insides of your cheeks, stabbing against them and watching your skin bulge under the pressure, then he’s pinching your tongue and scraping his nails over the top of it. it tickles in a pleasurable way, the kind that makes your stomach knot up and tense with lust. “i think i’m prettiest when i cum though. and that’s not something i let a lot of people see. they always get handsy even after i tell them not to. think that because i’m all subby and docile, they can break my rules.”

you watch in something of a daze as wooyoung reaches his other hand down to the lace lingerie clinging to his cock. he grips hard enough for you to see the harsh outline of his member, strained and stretching the fabric like it’s about to break. his slow rolls and sways of his hips continue even as he fucks into the palm of his own hand. you don’t think you could move or touch him even if you wanted to right now. each limb feels like it weighs ten tons.

“call me pretty again, y/n. a pretty little brat, yeah?” 

you can’t very well do that with his hand halfway down your throat like it is now, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. all that comes out are muffled moans caught on wooyoung’s fingers. he laughs, throwing his head back as the sound permeates the air, and you were right. you love the sound even more now when he’s a bit breathless and hoarse from arousal, hips canting against your abdomen still as he pushes himself closer to the edge.

“gonna cum, y/n, and make a pretty mess of myself. pay good attention to me please. i want you to see every second of it.” his eyes blaze with unbridled desire as he rubs over his panties a few more times. teeth sink into his lower lip, his nose scrunches up, eyes fighting to stay open and stay on yours without blinking. then he hits his high. it’s beautiful the way he falls apart over you, how his hips stutter and give a few jerky thrusts until his whole body goes still on top of yours. you think you have to agree with him too; this is the prettiest he’s looked all night in your eyes. 

it lasts either ten seconds or ten minutes — you have no concept of time right now, too enamored with the man above you and every movement he makes.

when he does come down, there are stars in his eyes and a sheen on his brow that trickles down the side of his face to his chin. he pulls his hand out of your mouth, but you can’t even bring yourself to close it as you watch him tuck the same hand into his underwear and scoop the stain of translucent white cum out. 

“taste for me?”

you manage a shaky nod, letting wooyoung return his hand to your lips, and when he cups your mouth gently, you poke your tongue out to lap the cum off his palm. 

“hm, now wasn’t that good? better than promised, in fact?”

“y-yeah,” you exhale, finally finding your voice after god knows how long of shocked and aroused silence. wooyoung grins. he leans over you, all but bare chest pressing to your clothed one, and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin with ease. his face hovers over yours. you can see his eyes clearer than ever.

“how about we go again then?”

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Since your requests are open i shall throw my brain rot at you <3

Slightly mean(bc he is a tease and is having the time of his life bc of the current scene in front of him) Kaeya that watches his virgin s/o try to fit him inside but she fails ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

And finally after some time he agrees to help out.

(uh also if u are accepting anons, may i be the ⚠️ anon?)

Pairing - Kaeya x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Degradation kink, praise kink?, very slight dollification

Word count - 1.7k

Other comments - Dude your Kaeya brainrot is always welcome here I love him. You’re so smart, mean kaeya is next level. And of course everyone welcome ⚠️ anon! Also this one is a little shorter, i just wasnt in the mood to write the build up i just wanted s e x

Your body was hypersensitive with nerves. It was your first time so of course you would be anxious about this whole situation. What wasn’t helping was your boyfriend's relentless teasing. It was aggravating and embarrassing, but part of your body was getting off to it as well; your body getting even more sensitive as time passed.

Right now, you were trying desperately to ride Kaeya, but he was just way too big and you didn’t know what you were doing so nothing was going well on your end. Kaeya on the other hand was having the time of his life watching you struggle.

“God if you hadn’t told me you were a virgin, I’d have never known seeing as how you're whining like a little slut right now cause you can’t ride me.” You shot your boyfriend a glare. God you just wanted to shut him up.

“Watching you struggle like this is quite amusing my dear… Maybe I’ll just sit here and force you to keep trying. You're destined to get it right at some point hm?” You heard him chuckle as you groaned out. There was a feeling that was beginning to bloom deep within you. You couldn’t quite name the feeling but all you knew was that you needed Kaeya’s help and you needed it now.

“Please Kaeya. This is driving me crazy. I need you Kaeya.” There was a needy rasp in your voice that made his only exposed pupil blow wide. There was a low rumble in his chest that only made this feeling intensify. You didn’t know what you had done, but you knew you weren’t going to regret it.

In less than a second there was a punishing grip on your hips, Kaeya’s long slender fingers holding so much strength in the iron grasp he had on you. Effortlessly Kaeya had you hovering over his pulsing cock. You whimpered in anticipation.

“Such a pathetic useless slut, always in need of my assistance. Hold yourself up like this so I can line myself up. You’re competent to be able to do as simple of a task as that right?” You nodded quickly, biting your lower lip instinctively out of mild anxiety. Once again, despite it all, this is still your first time. Your position did not waiver when Kaeya pulled away one of his hands. You could still feel the imprint of where it was on your hip.

“You’re okay right (y/n)? We’ll take this first part slow so as to not hurt you too much. This isn’t going to be amazing at first but just trust me it’ll get better. Then we can get back to having real fun.” The change in Kaeya’s whole tone and demeanor gave you whiplash; a stark contrast to the dark look he held only moments ago when degrading you. Instead he held a warm, almost concerned and genuine look on his face.

You took this moment to really admire him. The way his dark blue hair fell over him, shining in the pale light of your lamps next to the bed. Your breath never ceased to be taken away when you looked at him like this, cherishing the way his tanned skin contrasted the shining pale blue eye he had exposed. You guessed you had been staring at him for a little too long, with the way his expression started leaning more towards concern than anything.

“I always trust you Kaeya, this time is no different than the others.” A gentle smile formed on both of your faces. There were no words for how much you guys trusted each other, having this unexplainable bond. Somehow you both knew more about each other than yourselves.

Kaeya nodded before he nudged the hand that was still on your hip down, signaling for you to start lowering yourself. There was still an unease in the pit of your stomach, but it was much less noticeable now. You jumped slightly when you felt the tip of Kaeya’s dick intrude, causing him to chuckle quietly and begin rubbing comforting circles into your hip. You continued down, wincing as you felt yourself begin the stretch around him. It ached, and Kaeya was right, this certainly did not feel amazing, but you trusted him. After a few more painstakingly long moments of lowering yourself, you were fully seated on his lap. You could feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, and slowly the pain began to fade; leaving a burned need to feel more in its wake.

You squirmed on his lap, not trusting yourself to talk at the moment, in fear of saying or making some abhorrent noise. Kaeya’s punishing grip returned, holding you still on his lap.

“That didn’t take very long. Are you sure this is your first time? You’re really acting like a slut now.” The antagonizing tone returned to Kaeya’s voice, and it was really affecting you now. You desperately needed him to move. You let out a whimper as you futilely tried wiggling around in his grasp. A dark smirk graced his face as he tightened his grip even more.

“What was that my slut? What do you need? How am I possibly to know what you need if you don’t tell me. I’m not a mind reader darling.” You groaned, your face lighting up red with embarrassment with the knowledge that you were indeed going to have to beg this man to move.

“Kaeya…. I need you….to move please. I need to feel you in me. Please Kaeya help me.” You saw that familiar darkening on Kaeya’s face that made you melt, and an ache began deep within you.

“Your wish is my command, my beloved.” Before anything else could be exchanged, Kaeya hoisted you up until only the tip was still inside you then almost dropped you back down. You repeated this motion over and over and you let out loud moans and cries.

“That’s right. You’re my whore. I’m the only one that ever gets to see you this way or make you this way. Let everyone know who you belong to. Who exactly is making you whine like a bitch.” You cried out at a particularly hard and direct thrust into that one special spot that made you see stars.

“Say my name you little whore, say it out loud so we can all know whos fucking you this well.” You cried out once again, your moans being interrupted with the loud gasps of his name on your lips. You chanted his name like a prayer to the Archons above. In this moment, he was your archon, your divine being who you followed with unwavering devotion. What else were you to think when he was bringing you such pleasure.

“That’s it my darling. Even though your only use is being my fucktoy you are such a good one. You just keep sucking me in so well, this feeling is addicting.” You moaned out louder at the words he was throwing at you. Only moments later your legs began getting very tired from the constant up and down. You placed your hands on his toned chest as you began slumping over, not being lifted up quite as easily.

Suddenly you felt yourself being tipped over before Kaeya quickly pulled out, rolled you onto your back and caged you in with his strong arms on either side of your head. Without warning he thrusted himself in again, much easier this time.

“We haven’t even been doing this for very long and you already seemed so fucked out. Of course I shouldn’t be very surprised seeing how pathetic you are.” You could feel tears beginning to fall from your eyes from the pleasure that was wracking through your body. The tears only egged Kaeya on, as his thrusts became even harder. You could sense how sore you were going to be, you might have to stay home tomorrow. Kaeya began to let out strained grunts and groans, gritting his teeth in pleasure. He could feel the way you were squeezing him, and how you were about to fall over the edge any second now. He needed to ruin you.

The tears began to fall faster the closer you got to the end, a huge knot threatening to break in your core. After only two more targeted thrusted your back arched off the bed, smashing into Kaeya’s torso above you as you screamed out his name along with a few other profanities. Your vision flashed white as the feeling of your orgasm crashed over you like unrelenting waves in the sea.

Your cries quieted down as you slumped down onto the bed trembling, tears staining your deep crimson cheeks. Kaeya had grown much louder over those few moments and before long we was shoving his throbbing cock as far as he could get it and cumming. His orgasm took him by storm, nothing ever feeling that incredible before. The noise he made as his body shook above you and his sweaty forehead fell into the crook of your neck only made you tremble more. Before too long Kaeya gently pulled his softening dick out of you and slumped down onto the bed next to you. You were immediately pulled into him as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. This skin to skin contact filled you with the fuzziest feeling in the world as you snuggled as deep as you could into him.

You guys stayed in silence, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing of the two of you. You were both tangled in each other’s bodies before you quietly heard Kaeya mumble a soft ‘I love you’. You smiled and kissed his chest, not having the energy or willpower to speak. Not long after the two of you were lulled into the deepest, most peaceful sleep of your lives.

[itsamejin]

easy || jungkook angst/fluff

Summary: Date you, win a bet, get his rent paid off. Sounds promising enough, right? Jungkook should’ve known that his ambitions would end in disaster, but even if he did, that still wouldn’t have stopped him from pursuing you.

Warning: cursing, crude humor, fuckboy talk

Genre: college!au, fuckboy!au, bet!trope, angst, fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Premise: In which Jungkook accepts a bet from Taehyung to date the first girl that walks into the lecture hall and realizes that he bit off more than he could chew when starts to catch feelings. Now, he has to suffer the consequences of being an idiot.

Commission Request: @altus-gens​

Word Count: 9,203 words

—

It's not like Jungkook planned to be one of the most sought after person in Yonsei University, but it somehow turned out to be that way. Truthfully, he basks in it, loves that so many people idolize him for doing the bare minimum. He was handsome after all and had a level of charm that surpassed the need to have a good personality. 

He got into such a prestigious school through an athletic scholarship for Taekwondo, managed to convince his professors to pass him when he put in minimal effort, and there was no shortage of girls to call when he was feeling lonely for a night. He was the stereotypical 'it' boy on campus and maybe if he was a little bit smarter, he'd have a better choice of friends than the six idiots he always hangs around with.

"How about this," Taehyung starts, gum in his mouth, "the first girl who walks in, you have to successfully get in her pants."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. They were in a damn lecture hall and yet Taehyung had no shame bringing up sex. Typical.

“This again, bro?” Hoseok sighed. “Aren’t you sick of bribing us to do weird shit for you?”

Taehyung smirked.

“Not at all, actually.”

"For how much?" Namjoon cut in, probably curious for the price point Taehyung would arrange this time. He was fired from his job just a week ago and could really use the money. "I'll do it if it’s enough to pay for my rent this month."

Taehyung scoffs, although knowing full well he could pay for all of the boys’ tuitions combined if he wanted to. He was the resident rich bachelor on campus after all.

"I'll pay it for a full year and your utility bills too if you're really down," Taehyung flaunts. "You just gotta have proof you actually managed to do it."

"Dude that's gross," Seokjin chimes in, "No one wants to send you proof of us doing it with a random girl."

Taehyung shakes his head.

"No, no, no," he says, clicking his tongue. "I phrased it incorrectly. I’m not a fucking pervert."

“You got us fooled,” Jimin mutters. 

Taehyung leans in closer to the six boys and even Jungkook finds himself getting intrigued. Admittedly, he was a little curious considering he hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. He could really use having some extra cash for food without worrying about rent.

"You have to date the girl for like three months," Taehyung says seriously, "and I'll consider that as enough proof that you managed to actually do it since I know you guys are too horny to wait any longer than that to fuck."

They all look at Taehyung in disgust, Jimin even opting to hit him in the back of the head for being so vulgar. To be fair, they were all thinking of accepting Taehyung's bet regardless. It's not like they were new to leading girls on anyway.

"You gotta pay me more than that to fuck just any girl," Yoongi says, yawning in the process. He seemed the least likely to take up Taehyung's offer, but he was still game depending on the person.

"Then how would you feel," Taehyung starts, "if I told you guys that I could get you priority registration for next quarter."

The boys, even the ones who weren't interested, were now listening to Taehyung's every word.

"You mean," Hoseok gulps, "I could finally get that fucking Organic Chemistry class I need to get out of this hell hole?!"

Taehyung shrugs, an ominous smile on his face.

"Just the perk of having parents who have connections," Taehyung replies. “I’ll only accept one of you guys to do it though. I don’t wanna have you all fucking the same girl- that’d be weird.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what’s weird about this,” he grumbles.

“So are you guys in or not?” Taehyung asks, his patience growing thin.

He lays back on his chair, a smoldering look on his face when they all nod. They were desperate for money after all.

"The next girl that walks in will be the subject of this bet and whoever calls dibs on her first will be the one to woo her,” he says with a stretch of his arms. “Good luck boys.”

They all turned to look at the door and Jungkook watches silently as guy after guy walks into the lecture hall. No girl yet. 

Jungkook was hoping, from the bottom of his heart, that no familiar faces would walk in. If he had to deal with a past fling, he’d have to back out immediately. He never dealt with exes very well.

The guys are at the edge of their seats, praying for a cute girl to walk through that didn’t already know about their horrible reputation. They were looking for an easy target, someone that could fall for their charms almost immediately.

And then, you walk in. You were clad in sweats with earphones on, rushing toward the front row seats of the lecture hall. You were chatting with your friends, yawning several times throughout your conversation with them. Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk. There was nothing special about you to point out, in fact, you were just like everyone else. Strangely enough, he found that the most intriguing part about you.

"Nope, nope, nope," Jimin shakes his head repeatedly. "Can't, won't, never will. Sorry, Tae."

They all stare at him in confusion.

"What the fuck, what's wrong with her?" Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Jimin faces away from you, not wanting to look at you any longer.

"No, nothing," there seems to be a blush forming on his face. He was hiding something.

“Bullshit,” Taehyung furrows his brows. “Bro, if she’s crazy and one of us gets our dick bitten off, we’re all blaming you, so spit it out.”

Jimin just sighs.

"She's been giving me Professor Kwon’s notes for the past few weeks,” he starts, much to the confusion of his friends. “Her name is [Y/N]. It'll be really mean if I go after her, especially since she and I are kind of friends. Plus, I really need to pass this class. I failed last quarter..."

The boys groan. Jimin was no fun.

"She's not my type so I don't think I could really get into it either," Seokjin states, no longer interested in the prize after Jimin’s confession. He’s been banking off of your notes from him too. 

"Aren’t we all old enough to know not to mess with people’s feelings?" Hoseok sighs.

They roll their eyes at Hoseok’s statement. Who was he trying to fool with the nice guy act? He probably fooled around with girls just as much as the other guys did.

"Yeah, I’m backing out," Yoongi agrees, "and she hates me so there's that."

They all look at him questioningly and he puts his hands up in the air from their gazes.

"What? I just realized who she’s talking to down there.”

He pointed at a girl discreetly, but no one seemed to recognize her.

“Her friend and I dated,” Yoongi continues, “and I broke up with her over text and blocked her without letting her respond. That whole friend group is pretty much pissed at me. I'd rather not have to deal with them again."

The guys look disapprovingly at him. Breaking up over text was harsh, but probably not the worst thing Yoongi has done to his exes.

"You're actually a piece of shit," Namjoon sighs. "I really do need my rent paid though..."

Jungkook nods in agreement. It's been almost impossible to balance Taekwondo practices, college papers, and working a part-time job all at once. If he could somehow find a way to quit his job for a while and get priority registration for classes, then he doesn't mind getting his hands a little dirty in the process. Plus, you were cute enough and he's sure you weren't too difficult to befriend as long as he doesn't mention Yoongi in any conversations.

"I'm in," Jungkook chides, finally saying something after such a long period of silence.

They all look at him with disbelief in their eyes. Jungkook was never the one to partake in Taehyung's bets. In fact, he was the one usually ridiculing them for participating. He must have been really desperate if he was willing to do it.

"I mean, it's all yours if you want," Namjoon replies, "I don't wanna turn it into a competition.”

“Don’t worry dude,” Jungkook fist bumps Namjoon, “I’ll quit my job and refer you for it.”

They nod at each other as if they were on the same wavelength. 

“I knew I could rely on you,” Namjoon says, faking tears from his eyes. The boys groan in response.

“Alright,” Taehyung claps his hands. “In exchange for providing me some mindless entertainment and going out with [Y/N], you will get your rent paid for the rest of the year and get early registration for next quarter. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I don’t know about this, guys...”

Jungkook doesn’t hear him and instead takes one last look at you. You catch him in the corner of your eye and you can’t help but feel flustered at his serious expression. 

“Should be easy enough,” he mutters to himself and turns his gaze back onto his friend.

“So we have a deal?” Taehyung asks.

He smirks, shaking the outreached hand Taehyung held out for him. He steals another glance at you and he finds you staring right back. He gives you a wink.

“Deal.”

—

Jungkook slid into the seat next to yours in the campus canteen, his eyes filled with determination. His posture was laid-back, but it was a little too obvious that he was trying to act like he didn’t care.

“Hi,” he greets you in a breathy tone- girls loved it when he spoke with his breathy tone.

“Hi?”

You’d been sensing that someone was staring at you during the lecture, but you thought that was just the paranoia that came from being near such an intimidating group of guys. Turns out, you should always trust your instincts.

Jungkook had a boyish grin on his face that made you want to smile back but also stare at him in disgust.

“I heard you help Jimin with Professor Kwon’s notes,” he whispers mischievously. “I’m struggling myself, actually...”

Not really, but you know. This was the easiest tactic to approach you- tackle your similarities. You nod understandingly at his words, not quite getting that he was flirting with you.

“Yeah I can send you the Google Drive folder,” you comply, taking your phone out. “But you can’t let Professor Kwon know or else he’ll flip out. He doesn’t want people to have the notes for some odd reason...”

You trail off but Jungkook just scoffs. You seemed clueless.

“That’s not what I necessarily meant,” he says, a little shy this time. “I need a tutor.”

You furrow your brows at him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to pay me for that,” you say seriously. The last time you offered to tutor someone for free, they ended up blaming you for their failing grade and screaming about it all over social media. You needed money to compensate for that emotional trauma. “Microeconomics is hard to teach.”

“Well thankfully I’m a good student,” Jungkook teases. You stare at him with a deadpan face.

“You wouldn’t need my help if you were a good student,” you say blankly, standing up from your seat. “My hourly rate is 20,000 Won. Take it or leave it.”

Jungkook’s eye twitched. He had to spend his money to get Taehyung’s money? Well, the payout would be worth it in the end anyway. He reaches out a hand to you.

“If you’d have me,” he says cheekily, looking up at you. You take his hand in yours and maybe for a second you felt your heart skip a beat, but that was soon over when you let go of him.

“You have sweaty hands,” you say straightforwardly. You wipe your hand on your shirt and he coughs awkwardly at how unresponsive you truly were. Didn’t Jimin say you were a nice person? 

You take your barely-touched lunch tray and walk away from his pensive figure.

“Wait, can I get your number?” he yells. You don’t look back.

“Alright, whatever,” he mumbles to himself. “I’ll just ask Jimin, I guess.”

Without even a second glance, you disappear from his sight. He sits back on his chair, heaving out a deep sigh. Sure, this wasn’t the first girl that didn’t care much for his advances, but you didn’t even crack a smile or anything. This is going to be harder than he thought...

—

“She hates me,” Jungkook whines to Seokjin as they walked down the university halls to their next shared class. “Yesterday, I went up to her to get her number and I left with a fucking debt. Does that make any sense?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have taken on the bet,” Seokjin yawned. “Namjoon would have wooed her with his poetry by now or some shit.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s interested in a dude who can’t even put on a hat without causing an earthquake.”

Seokjin smacked him on the back.

“At least he’d have the guts to say no to having a fucking tutor,” Seokjin replies. “You dug your own grave, man. Now roll around in it.”

“Do you want me to succeed or not?” 

“I want you to not be a fucking dumbass, Jungkook,” Seokjin sighs. “Do you really wanna make your reputation worse than it already is?”

Just as Jungkook was about to reply, he catches a glimpse of you walking farther ahead in the university courtyard. You were a bit far but he’s sure he could make it if he hurries. He smacks the binder he held in his right hand onto Seokjin’s chest.

“Yo, can you cover for me,” he asks hastily and Seokjin stares at him with a concerned gaze. He watches as Jungkook takes off his backpack and leaves it on the ground. Jungkook looked about ready to break out in a sprint.

“What the fuck, why?” Seokjin questions.

“Just tell the TA I’m out for a bit,” he says in response, already running ahead to catch up to you. “I’m winning this fucking bet or I’ll die trying.”

Jin stands still, mouth agape. Jungkook really left him with his backpack and binder just to talk to you. He shakes his head. ‘I need to make new friends,’ he thought to himself, picking up the discarded backpack and walking in the direction of the class Jungkook was planning to be late to.

You were walking with your earphones on, not noticing someone sprinting at you in record speed. You only turn your music off when Jungkook stops in front of you, his hands on his knees. He was panting heavily.

“Hey,” he says through deep breaths. You nod at him awkwardly.

“Why are you running?”

“I wanted to... catch up to you... and I thought... you were closer... but the run here... took... fucking... forever,” he says breathlessly. “Water. I need water.”

You take out a bottle from your tote bag hastily, handing it to him. He took it into his hands, grazing your fingers a bit. As he was about to start chugging it, you halted him.

“Waterfall,” you say curtly- you were still planning to drink out of it later after all. 

He nods in response, a drop of sweat cascading the side of his neck. After he was done, there was practically no water left anyway. ‘I’m gonna have to refill it myself,’ you thought begrudgingly. You stuff it back into your bag and wait until his breaths become more even.

“A bit out of shape, huh?”

He scoffs and gives you a glare, clearly offended.

“I actually have a Taekwondo scholarship, you know that? I just wasn’t warmed up and I’m naturally sweaty so it’s not like-”

You laugh a little.

“I’m joking,” you say, a smile adorning your face. He feels his face turn red and he can’t help but purse his lips out of embarrassment. Jeon Jungkook couldn’t take a fucking joke.

“O-oh,” he says shyly, avoiding your gaze. Why was he acting more like an idiot than usual? You hear the chiming bells of the university tower and stare at your phone to check the time.

“Don’t you have a class?” you ask him. His eyes widen and soon he was dashing off again. He turns around mid-run, jogging backward to face you.

“My number is 06-1313-9197,” he yells, loud enough for the other late students in the courtyard to hear. Most of them roll their eyes, knowing that Jungkook was flirting with another girl yet again. You’re embarrassed by the amount of attention he’s getting, but punch his number on your phone anyway.

“Text me,” he shouts. “I’ll always respond to you.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

—

"That’s wrong,” you say, reaching over to Jungkook’s notebook and marking a large ‘X’ on his paper. “You’re not supposed to apply that function for this problem...”

Jungkook stared at you with a tired face. He didn’t think he was too bad at the mathematical aspect of Microeconomics, but it seemed like it was your life’s mission to make him look like an idiot. Of course, you caught every mistake that he made- even the ones he made on purpose just to see if you were really paying attention to his work and not bamboozling him.

“My bad,” he mutters, copying down the same problem on a different sheet of paper. He didn’t even get a chance to make a move on you today- not like he could make any big developments in the campus library anyway.

“Is it like this?” he asks, tilting his notebook to face you. You take a hard look at it and nod.

“Yeah, just make sure you know the difference between these two formulas, or else you’ll mess up on the midterm,” you say thoughtfully.

This was your fourth or fifth tutoring session by now? Truth be told he wasn’t really counting. Each moment he spent with you kind of blended together and he didn’t quite know if that was a bad thing or not.

“You know you’re not even struggling,” you say, your nose buried deep in your textbook. “It’s not like you’re completely clueless like Jimin. It seems like you’re wasting money on stuff you already know.”

Jungkook laughs heartily, getting shushed by the people around him. He really was stupid, wasn’t he?

“Yeah, well, it was just an excuse to hang out with the pretty girl in class, you know?” he says as nonchalantly as he could. You stare at him for a second and he swears he feels his body freeze over. If looks could kill...

You just shook your head with a click of your tongue and got back to reading.

“The pretty girl in class is most definitely not me,” you grumble. “If you wanted, I could’ve given you Soobin’s number without all the added hassle of you trying to come talk to me-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jungkook stops you from saying anything else. He looked worriedly at your face. “I don’t even know who the hell Soobin is, why would I want her number?”

You look at him and finally, you chuckle. ‘She really does have a nice smile,’ Jungkook thought to himself. It would be nice if he could make you laugh more often and not just on rare occasions like this.

“You’re saying you don’t know Yoongi’s ex?” you tease slightly. You were finally letting your guard down with him and Jungkook smirked. One wall down, another million more to go.

“Bold of you to assume that I know any of Yoongi’s exes,” he says and you scoff. “He’s an asshole when it comes to dating.”

You roll your eyes.

“Isn’t that your whole friend group?”

He pouts. You knew of his reputation after all. Jungkook thought he could get away playing a nice boy act, but it didn't seem possible considering your knowledge of him. A little white lie couldn’t hurt in the end.

“Not me,” he replies. “I choose my relationships pretty carefully.”

You take a glance at him before jotting down a few more words in your notebook.

“Well,” you start off, a little shy to admit what you were about to say, “I guess we both have that in common.”

He tilts his head rather cutely out of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

You cough awkwardly, adjusting yourself on one of the library’s notoriously squeaky seats.

“I’ve never really had a boyfriend before,” you say quietly. His eyes bulge out from their sockets.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Like, you’ve never been on a date or what?”

“I have,” you say hesitantly. “I’ve been on a few but they just never led into anything serious. I was pretty focused on studying in high school so there weren’t really any opportunities to get involved with someone. Plus, the guys who pursued me weren’t very... attractive.”

Jungkook laughs loudly again, much to the dismay of the other students in the library. He liked that you didn’t beat around the bush- it was easier to talk to you that way.

“And me?” he asks teasingly, laying his head on his arm that was atop the desk. He looks up at you with that boyish grin of his that gave you small butterflies in your stomach. You stare back at him, but only for a second. You ignore his watchful gaze and continue to flip through your textbook, trying to find the passage you last read. He keeps his eyes locked on you and you just couldn’t resist.

“What about you?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“Am I attractive?” he replies as bluntly as he could. You stop your movements and he chuckles.

“You’re... cute,” you settle on that word. Cute. It was safe enough to not be misinterpreted too much. He sits up straight with a satisfied smirk. He takes his pen and draws a heart on the side of your notebook. He winks at you when you stare back at him, puzzled by his actions.

“You are too.”

—

“Tell me you’re lying,” Soobin whines disappointingly, shaking your shoulders. You were trying to eat lunch undisturbed in one of the campus cafes but your two friends seem hell-bent on making you suffer. “There’s no way you’re friends with Jungkook.”

You sigh, attempting to rid yourself of Soobin’s grasp but to no avail.

“He’s an asshole, [Y/N],” Gaeun sighs disappointingly. “I thought you were a feminist, why the fuck do you even tolerate him?”

You glare at her for a split second before going back to prying Soobin off you.

“Jungkook has no respect for women or himself. It shows in how many shitty friends he has,” Soobin chants, still clearly bitter that Yoongi dumped her.

You shake your head, rolling your shoulders back when she finally lets go of you.

“Jungkook’s not even as bad as you guys describe him,” you reply. “He’s actually been really sweet.”

The girls take a glance at each other and burst in a fit of laughter.

“You must be out of your damn mind,” Gaeun cries. You cower slightly at their words. It’s not like you said anything that controversial, did you?

Soobin slaps Gaeun on the shoulder when she realizes how your face had soured. It wasn’t right to judge you for your choice of friends so harshly, no matter how horrid said person was.

“As long as it doesn’t go past friends,” she says soothingly, but that only made you feel worse.

“Why?” you ask a little hesitantly. “Does Jungkook sleep around?”

Gaeun nods, a worrying glimpse in her eyes.

“He's not exactly the type to kiss and stay...”

You nod understandingly. You weren’t too clueless to believe Jungkook when he said he was “careful” on who he dated. As long as you knew the boundaries that came with being his tutor, everything should be fine... right?

“Don’t worry guys,” you say with determination. “I’m not the type to get played-”

“Of course you are!” Gaeun sighed. “Guys gravitate towards girls like you who lack experience. Jungkook’s a fucking weirdo, of course, he’s gonna try and-”

“[Y/N]!” a shout from across the cafe screams. That distracted you from the various insults Gaeun was spewing from her mouth. You get that she was being critical of Jungkook, but did she have to speak ill of you too?

You look around and catch Jungkook waving frantically at you. He stops at your table and takes a mere glance at your friends before setting his focus on you. 

“Do you have time to help me out today? One of the papers for my writing class-”

“You tutor him in writing now, too?!” Soobin exclaimed, mouth agape. “[Y/N], what the fuck.”

You try to ignore your friend’s overreaction, a little disheartened when Jungkook looked hurt at their words. He had started to shy away from them as if he didn’t feel welcomed.

“Nevermind, I’ll just ask you later-”

“Actually,” you say standing up. “I’m free now.”

The two girls look back and forth between you and Jungkook, noticing the stars in your eyes when you looked at him. They did not like the thought of you two together at all.

“But [Y/N]-” 

You ignored their words and start to walk away, hoping Jungkook would come catch up to you. You didn’t quite know why their insistence on him being a bad person had made your blood boil. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of his flirtatious tendencies, but hearing from your friends that you shouldn’t pursue a guy that you liked-

You stopped in your tracks and feel heat climb up your face. Like.

No way you admitted that just now. There’s no possible way you actually like-

“Hey, wait up,” Jungkook pants, his hand touching your shoulder. “Why do you walk so fast for-”

He sees your shocked face and turns you towards him, his hands on your shoulder similar to how Soobin had shaken you just earlier. Except this time, it felt comforting. It made your whole body feel warm as if you were coated with a weighted blanket. Was he always this gorgeous?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, inspecting your face closely. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“N-nothing,” you swipe his hands away and rush out the door of the cafe. He smirks at how flustered you look, maybe he did have an effect on you after all.

Jungkook takes a last glimpse at the two girls who sat in their seats, staring at him disapprovingly. He raised an eyebrow at them and shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans, following after you. ��They’ll try to get in the way,’ Jungkook thought to himself, ‘but they’re already too late.’

The girls clenched their fist out of annoyance. He was definitely trying to get on their nerves.

“There’s something strange about what’s happening,” Gaeun mutters.

“They’re up to something,” Soobin agrees. “I don���t trust him at all.”

—

It’s been a week since you last spoke to your friends, not really wanting to read the messages they bombarded you with about how you should stay for away from Jungkook. It was hard to take any of their advice seriously when they were just badmouthing him without reason. They based all their opinions on him from rumors around the school and Soobin always felt the need to compare him to Yoongi even though they both had very different personalities. Well, at least to you they seemed very different.

Frankly, you were sick of their nagging and just turned off notifications from that group chat altogether. Instead of sitting next to them during Microeconomics, you opted to sit with Jungkook in the back of the lecture hall instead of at the front with them. Jungkook had abandoned his own rowdy friend group to sit with you and flashed them quick smirks and winks whenever they’d stare at him. 

Slowly, Jungkook had started to become a constant in your day to day life. You walked to class with him, ate with him, played video games with him. It was sort of strange how used to you were of his presence, like you had known him your whole life. Jungkook snaps you out of your thoughts when he starts humming a little tune.

He draws a heart in the corner of your notes- which you find he has a habit of doing whenever he wanted to say something stupid.

“I don’t get what he’s saying,” he pouts cutely. “It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language.”

You shake your head, not paying him any mind.

“Well maybe if you actually paid attention,” you mutter softly. He scoots closer to you and you feel yourself stiffen.

“But you’re tutoring me later on anyway,” he says teasingly. “I get more bang for my buck if I know less.”

“Bang for my buck,” you scoff. “Who even says that anymore?”

He points at himself nonchalantly and you can’t help but crack a smile as you continue to focus on the professor’s words. You don’t even cower under his gaze like you usually do when he stares at you with those puppy dog eyes.

“What do you want?” you ask, finally caving when Professor Kwon adjusted something in his PowerPoint slides. He smiles.

“I want to hold your hand,” Jungkook replies and you could feel your palms clam up. His flirtatious comments increased as time passed and you didn’t really quite know whether he was just teasing you or if he was genuinely interested in you. You weren’t very good at taking a hint.

“I’m writing right now...” you reply, slightly skipping a beat in your note-taking. He really was the ultimate distraction, wasn’t he?

Jungkook pouts sadly, but you can tell an idea pops up in his mind when his eyes start to glimmer. He sits his hand on your thigh and you jolt back from the touch of his hand on the material of your jeans. He pulls away slightly, scared that he had made you uncomfortable.

“I just want to put my arm around you,” he asks innocently. “Are you okay with that?”

You calm yourself down and nod. For goodness sake, you weren’t a child- why did a hand on your thigh make you so nervous for?!

“Yeah,” you say, a little more confident despite your nerves. “Go ahead.”

He smiles softly at you and connects his hand to your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. It was comforting, not at all meant to be more than just a public display of affection. He finds himself getting lost in the lecture along with you, his hand playing with a loose thread on your shirt through it all. He didn’t even look at his friends who were teasing him on the other side of the class or your own friends shooting daggers into his being.

At that moment, it was you, him, and Professor Kwon giving out a lecture that had half of the students already asleep. He smiled at how diligently you worked and how your breath would quicken when Professor Kwon switched the slides without a warning. It was the little idiosyncrasies like this that caught his attention, the kind of things that made him wonder where you’d been all his life.

The smile on Jungkook’s face disappeared when he came to that realization.

Fuck.

—

Jungkook rolls around the grass while you sit on the picnic blanket you two had set up. Midterms were over and grades would soon be announced. He wanted a much-needed distraction from the monotony of constant studying and you had suggested a small picnic in a nearby park. Of course, he agreed. 

“We’re free,” he groans. “Finally free.”

Jungkook stares hungrily at the assortment of food you had laid out for the two of you. He tries to reach a hand out to grab a bottle of lemonade but ultimately fails in the end. You giggle at his silliness, popping a grape in your mouth.

“You’re welcome by the way,” you say jokingly. “Don’t think you could’ve done it without me.”

He sits up to face you, bowing deeply as if you were a traditional empress.

“Thank you,” he says, imitating a Joseon accent. He was watching far too many historical dramas recently.

“You’re embarrassing me,” you say, attempting to straighten him out. “Sit up.”

He complies, only after a few pulls from you, with a toothy grin on his face.

“Seriously, I don’t think I could have gone through the first few weeks of Professor Kwon’s class without your notes,” he sighs, opening his mouth to signal that he wanted to be fed. You roll your eyes but placed a grape between his teeth anyway.

“You have hands, you should know how to use them,” you mumble shyly.

You move to take another grape for yourself, but he grabs your wrist before you could. He intertwines his fingers into yours.

“Why should I when my hands are holding yours~,” he says in a sing-song voice. It made you want to throw up at how cheesy he was, but you couldn’t help but laugh along as he cringed at his own words. When was it so normal for him to hold your hands like this?

“You can’t go one sentence without flirting, can you?” you sigh, feigning annoyance.

“Not when it comes to you,” he replies, but you could feel sincerity laced between his laughter. “I can’t resist flirting when it makes you all giggly like this.”

You purse your lips to prevent yourself from smiling too brightly. Jungkook and you were somewhat past the point of being just friends by now, but you were too much of a coward to label what you had with him. What if there was a chance that he was just leading you on?

Jungkook saw your furrowed brows. He rubbed circles on your hands with his thumbs to ease you.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly, about to let go.

“No-” you say a little too quickly, clasping him closer to you. Your faces were inches apart now, much nearer than they were before.

“D-don’t,” you attempt to say but you’re tongue tangled as you looked at his lips. He certainly does have nice lips...

“Don’t what?” he asks in a lowly voice. You start to look around you- anywhere that wasn’t him. The park was relatively empty but it still felt embarrassing to say anything too loud.

“D-don’t let me go,” you say, your eyes on the picnic blanket rather than on him. His gaze was too intense to look at. Jungkook feels his heart clench. You were cute, too cute. 

He shouldn’t be feeling this attached to you, but he couldn’t help it. Everything you did, every word that came out of your mouth- it had him wanting more from you than he could possibly handle. It was dangerous to feel this way.

“Why don’t you want me to let you go?” he asks nervously. He too was anxious for the answer. If you were to confess to Jungkook right now, he’d get the first part of the bet done, but there’d be no turning back after your confession. He would have to lie to you from now on. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, chanting to himself that it’s okay to like you for a little while, just as long as he doesn’t get too attached in the end. He needed the money, he really did.

“Because,” you start off with a sigh, staring at him now with glossy eyes. “I like you.”

Jungkook feels like he could do ten backflips in one go and it wouldn’t even drain him of energy. The smile on his face was huge, his eyes curling into that half-moon shape that made you swoon. 

Jungkook was relieved and if the boys asked, it was because he’d only have to date you for three months. He’d die before he’d admit to them that he caught feelings because Taehyung, as generous as he was with his bets, would never give Jungkook the money unless he cleanly broke up with you. It was one of his unspoken rules.

“I like you too.”

You smile at him and he can’t help but pull you close, his lips hovering over yours.

“Can I?”

You nod.

His lips graze yours slightly but he pushes a bit closer when he feels you lean into his touch. He kisses you again, and again, and again, but you pull away when his tongue had started to prod at your lips. Your face was flushed,  embarrassed to be doing this in such a public place.

“Maybe later?” you say, panting slightly. He gives you a cheeky grin and nods.

“At my place?” he asks with a wink.

You hesitate, letting go of his arms, twiddling with your fingers. You wanted to set clear labels on what your relationship was. You didn't want to accidentally get caught up in a friends-with-benefits situation and be all shocked when Jungkook ends up breaking your heart.

“So we’re dating now, right?” you ask cautiously, looking at him with a worried glint in your eyes. 

Jungkook’s mouth opens to speak but no words come out. He thinks a little harder about the whole situation... He was getting good grades, spending some quality time with a girl he’s clearly attracted to, and having his rent paid off all in one? He was killing three birds with one stone. It shouldn’t be too big of a problem to catch feelings for now, right? It’s not like any of his relationships lasted longer than a couple of months anyway.

He nods, cupping your face lightly.

“Yeah,” he hesitates. “We’re dating.”

Jungkook wasn’t aware, as he gives you another light peck, that it wasn’t possible to have his cake and eat it too.

—

It happens naturally. You coming in and out of his apartment that he shared with his friends, you tangling your legs with his underneath the sheets of his bed. It was hard to imagine a life where you didn’t wake up with him by your side. You were so wrapped up in his touch, so wrapped up in the sweet words he would whisper into your ears, that you spent most of your time with him. 

You weren’t really up to date with your friends anymore and he didn’t really hang out with his either. Jungkook shared an apartment with Seokjin and Hoseok, and so the only contact he had with the other boys was when they visited those two. He should’ve known to take you back home when all the boys bombarded into his living room, where you sat with him watching TV. 

“The lovebirds are at it again,” Taehyung coos, a mysterious glint in his eyes. “The honeymoon stage hasn’t passed quite yet, has it?”

Jungkook chucks one of the sofa’s throw pillows at his friend, obviously annoyed. What the fuck did Taehyung think he was doing?

“Quit it,” he mutters. You were sitting next to Jungkook, his arm around your shoulder protectively

“Why?” Yoongi yawns. “Anyone can see how incredibly in love you two are.”

You didn’t quite like the smirk he gave the two of you. This didn’t feel like regular teasing... it felt like he knew something that you weren't aware of. It made you curl your toes out of fear.

“Guys,” Jimin says calmly. “Stop it.”

The boys shrug their shoulders as if they said nothing wrong.

“We’re just pointing out how cute they are together,” Taehyung noted, “It’s not like we’re lying to her or anything-”

“Yeah, or leading her on or anything like that-”

“I think I should go,” you say hurriedly, uncomfortable at how tense the atmosphere was. Jungkook was clenching his fists, about ready to start a fight any second. Knowing his strength, you didn’t want anyone to walk around with a bruised eye because you couldn’t handle a few jokes- if that’s what Taehyung and Yoongi think they’re making. Harmless jokes.

“I’ll take you home,” Jungkook announces, standing up with you. Namjoon pulls him down back on the couch.

“Let someone else take her,” he says sternly. “We need to talk.”

Jungkook was about to protest until you spoke up.

“I can get home by myself just fine.”

“Hoseok and I can take you,” Seokjin insists, pulling the unassuming man up with him. “We don’t mind.”

Hoseok gives you a lopsided smile and you return an equally awkward one.

“Okay, that’s settled,” you say, clapping your hands. You walk over to Jungkook. “I’ll text you later okay?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and kissing it lightly. Yoongi scoffs and Taehyung glares at Jungkook. The dirty glances they were giving each other... You didn’t like it at all.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

—

The walk to your apartment was unnecessarily awkward, Hoseok and Seokjin were talking too much and you talked too little. You tried to respond to their every quip, but you weren’t in the mood for chatting after that whole mess.

“You okay, [Y/N]?” Hoseok asks worriedly. “Don’t think too much about what those idiots said back there, they’re like that all the time.”

You nod, keeping your eyes on the ground. There was something chipping away at the back of your mind, something you wanted to get out of your chest.

“Would you say Jungkook and Yoongi act similarly?” you hesitate to say, “like with relationships?”

The two boys exchanged nervous glances at each other.

“Well, it depends,” Seokjin starts, choosing his words specifically. “What about relationships specifically?”

���Does he...,” you start off, not knowing the right phrase without sounding too harsh, “play around with girls? Like how Yoongi played around with Soobin?”

Hoseok looked at you with a raised brow.

“Who’s Soobin?” he asks before getting punched in the arm by Seokjin. “What the fuck bro!”

Seokjin clears his throat.

“What Hoseok meant to say,” he starts, glaring at his friend a little too harshly, “is that Yoongi never really introduces us to his girlfriends. You, on the other hand, are one of the few girls Jungkook actually took the time to invite over.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok chimes in. “He’s not exactly the most chivalrous, but he wouldn’t ghost someone like Yoongi did.”

Somehow their words weren’t enough to satisfy you. There was still something off in the conversation that transpired between the three boys- as if they were all keeping something from you. You stopped abruptly in front of your apartment complex, finally making eye-contact with the two boys.

“Do you think...” you start, a slight quiver in your voice, “that Jungkook is cheating on me?”

The two boys let out a deep breath that you didn’t even notice they were holding and laughed joyously together. They cackled as if what you said was the funniest thing they had ever heard in their life. Seokjin wipes a stray tear from his eye.

“Y-you think Jungkook’s cheating on you?!”

You nod, a little embarrassed at their reaction. Hoseok shakes his head, sighing out of his laughter.

“Trust me,” Hoseok starts, his breath evening out. “Jungkook would never cheat on you.”

You start to giggle along with them until a serious look suddenly takes over Seokjin’s features. He faces you fully.

“But listen [Y/N],” he starts. “If Jungkook hurts you, just know that he does love you. Like, undeniably. He does.”

“And we’re not just saying that as his friends either,” Hoseok continues. “We know how he’s like and we can tell that he really does like you.”

You smile at the two, feeling a small sense of comfort at their words.

“Thank you, guys. I mean it.”

They pat you on the back.

“Anything for Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

—

You walk through the campus cafeteria, eyes searching for a free table that you can sit alone in. Jungkook had Taekwondo practice so there would be no lovey-dovey feeding time with him. 

He’s been a lot tenser since the living room incident (which was already a week ago) and it seemed like he got more agitated as the days passed. Not towards you directly, but he’d always mutter slight insults whenever Yoongi or Taehyung passed by. It made you worried that you had done something to possibly drive a wrench into their relationship without even knowing it.

‘Whatever,’ you thought, ‘I’ll talk about it with him when he comes over later.’

You aren’t able to find a seat, though, when you feel dainty fingers wrap around  your elbow to pull you back lightly.

“[Y/N],” Gaeun says in a low voice. “We need to talk.”

It wasn’t like you had been ignoring them deliberately, though that was definitely the case at the start. You just couldn’t find the time to really hang out with them as much as you used to since you were with Jungkook most of the time. It was like that too when Gaeun and Soobin were in relationships, so you never really felt bad about doing it yourself.

“Yeah sure. I miss you guys,” you smile at her, but she doesn’t return it back.

“Come with me.”

Gaeun leads you to a table near the back of the room, where Soobin was sat up against the wall with her own tray of food. You sit down in front of her and Gaeun takes the seat next to Soobin.

“Good, you’re here,” Soobin says, apprehension laced in her voice. “We need to talk about Jungkook.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not this again-”

“[Y/N],” Gaeun warns. “Listen.”

You keep quiet, a little intimidated of how scary their expressions were.

“It’s all a bet,” Soobin says sternly.

You furrow your brows at her. She tends to speak vaguely when you needed her to be specific the most.

“What?”

“It’s a bet, [Y/N],” Gaeun repeats for her. “Jungkook’s only dating you because Taehyung said he’d pay his rent off if he did.”

You clench your fist on the table. How could they sit there and spew lies so easily?

“What are you guys-”

“Those dicks do this all the time,” Soobin rambles. “They play stupid games with girls just to fucking break their hearts later on and-”

“I don’t believe you,” you say confidently. “Jungkook would never do that to me. Besides-”

Gaeun didn’t even wait until you stopped talking to play a recording on her phone. The voices were familiar enough to recognize.

“So you’re telling me that Jungkook’s just fucking around with [Y/N] because he wants priority registration? You have to be fucking joking...”

You could tell from the sound of the person’s voice that it was Soobin. It sounded like she was putting on her clothes.

“Of course not. He’s doing it for priority registration and his rent getting paid for the rest of the year. I’m not joking when I say Tae goes big with his bets. He likes to flex his money on us like that.”

Your jaw drops at the sound of the man’s voice. It was Yoongi. You were sure of it.

“And you guys don’t feel bad? Like at all?”

“Why should we? Jungkook’s planning to break up with her next week anyway so she doesn’t catch feelings for too long. It’s not like they were gonna last past the three-month deal...”

Gaeun paused the recording when she sees you bite your lip so harshly that blood starts to surface. This didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel real.

“I hooked up with him last weekend,” Soobin admits, shame written all over her face. “He was spewing stuff about Jungkook spending all his time with you and not really hanging out with the boys like he used to.”

“You still hook up with Yoongi? After all he did to you?” you ask, not meaning to come off aggressive but undoubtedly did.

“Look,” Gauen starts, taking the heat off of Soobin. “She was just drunk and looking to have fun. I was with her that night and I was talking to Namjoon. He...”

Gaeun trailed off, but you were sick of it. Sick of being kept in the dark from something you should’ve known all along.

“What?”

“H-he told me that all the boys were getting tired of him playing around with you,” she says, twiddling with her fingers. “He’s supposed to break up with you today. Some of the guys think he’s just prolonging it to fuck with you and they’re getting really annoyed-”

You bite back the tears threatening to spill over any minute now.

“Hoseok and Seokjin told me to trust Jungkook. They said he wouldn’t hurt me-”

“Did they also tell you that their rent gets paid too if Jungkook pulled through with the bet?” Soobin replies angrily. “Because they live together, don’t they?”

You open your mouth but no sound comes out- just a small whimper. Your lips start to quiver and you bite your lip again to calm yourself down. When you had collected your thoughts, you glared up at the two girls.

“And you didn’t tell me this earlier?”

Soobin scoffed.

“You were fucking ignoring us too, how were we supposed to tell you?”

“Still it wouldn’t have killed you to-”

“Don’t take your anger out on us,” Gaeun warns, her finger pointing at you. “Jungkook is the one to blame. We told you from the start that he was bad news.”

You pursed your lips and Gaeun put her finger down, feeling guilty that she lashed out on you when obviously you were just processing the information.

“Hey, I’m sorry-”

“Why me?” you ask with teary eyes. “What did I even do to them to deserve this?” 

They glance over at each other for a long while before Soobin breaks the silence. You had the right to know, but at the same time, they knew it would break you.

“It’s a sick game that they play where they just choose someone randomly...” Soobin starts off gently handing off the next few words to Gaeun, “and you were just the first girl to walk into Professor Kwon’s lecture hall. He thought you’d be...”

“Easy,” Soobin finished.

Just as they predicted, you had burst out in tears.

—

Jungkook opens the door to your apartment, using the spare key you had given him a month earlier since he tended to visit often. It was more convenient that way. 

He was freshly out of his Taekwondo garb, still sweaty, but otherwise clean from taking a shower at the campus gym. He found it strange at how dark the room was, but he knew you were on the couch from the noticeable lump of a blanket on it.

All Jungkook wanted was to cuddle with you and fall asleep in your arms after such a harrowing day. Lord knows he needs your warmth right now.

He smiled as he made his way towards you, but stops in his tracks when you sit up from where you laid. He couldn’t quite see you in the darkness so he walked to the light switch to turn the lights on. His heart broke at the sight of you.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy from all the crying. You looked a mess and his blood boiled at the thought of someone hurting you. 

“What happened?” he asked, rushing over to you and cupping your face in his hands. You push him away.

“You don’t have to act anymore,” you say softly. “I can handle it.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows.

“What are you talking about-”

“I get that you really need the money,” you say through bated breaths, “I get that financially, it would have really helped, but did you really have to hurt me to do that?”

Jungkook’s breathing stopped. Everything was happening too quickly, his world crashing down when you uttered those words. He knew what this meant, knew that now you would see past his lies. Jungkook couldn’t have you finding out this way. 

He kneeled in front of you, attempting to wipe away the tears from your eyes but you push him off.

“[Y/N] no-”

“It could’ve been anyone,” you whimper, trying to look up at the ceiling to prevent any more tears from falling down. “Anyone could’ve walked through that door and you would’ve been okay with it.”

“That’s not true-” he interjects but you stop him.

“A-and you flirted with me all the time ‘cause you knew that I wasn’t used to it,” you say, your voice quivering. “You took advantage of me.”

Jungkook shakes his head rapidly, eyes pleading for you to let him speak. It hurt seeing you refuse to even look at him, to have your eyes so filled with sadness because of what he did to you. He fucked up, he fucked up so bad.

“No, you have to listen-”

“They told me not to trust you,” you whimper somberly. “They told me and I didn’t believe them because I... I was delusional or something. I thought that someone like you could actually like someone like me-”

His heart broke. It wasn’t you that didn’t deserve him. It was him. All him.

“Please don’t say that-”

“Did you come here to seal the deal? To finally break up with me?” you ask sadly. “Are you happy you’ll get the classes you want next quarter, Jungkook?”

He clenches his teeth. Jungkook knows you’re mad, knows you have a right to be, but it feels like he’s being cornered by you. Why won’t you give him the chance to speak?

“[Y/N], no,” he says sternly, “You have to trust me when I say that it went past just a bet. I like you. Genuinely, I like you.”

There was no point in lying any longer. You deserved to know the truth, but he needed you to know all of it- not just the information your friends cherry-picked to fit their narrative. He tried to speak again, but you wouldn’t let him.

“How could you,” you whimper. “How could someone be so cruel?”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words. He should’ve seen this coming. How could he delude himself into thinking he’d be okay if you find out- that he’d be fine seeing you heartbroken? He was disgusted with himself.

“I’m sorry [Y/N],” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your vision getting blurry from the tears. He clasps your hands in his, knowing that it used to soothe you whenever you felt worried over something, but you just wailed harder at his touch. He didn’t know what to do, he didn't even know where to start.

“Stop pretending like you care,” you cry. “Please. It hurts.”

“It was a bet,” he admits and he breaths through the words to prevent himself from getting too emotional, “but I promise that my feelings are genuine. You have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” you ask crudely.

You stare at him, slowing your breaths to ease the crying. There was a certain emptiness in your gaze and it scared him. It was awfully frightening having you looking at him with a certain animosity that was not there before. Like he was a stranger.

“I can’t do that anymore, Jungkook,” you say softly, “because I hate you.”

—

A/N: Gasp A double update?! Say it isn’t so... I had so much fun writing this!!! Probably one of my favorite fics I’ve written in a while because I love this trope. How do y’all feel about Jungkook? Forgive or forget? Let me know!! Thank you @altus-gens​ for requesting this story, I hope you like it :)

Please leave any comment, critiques, or just random thoughts about my story! I’m planning my murder mystery series rn and I’m so excited (I might... do an album giveaway along with it...) I really love the direction I’m taking this blog in and I hope you guys are excited for the stories to come~~ 

buy me a coffee?

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 2

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst!

Author's Note: It's amazing how much one can write when they've got a story to tell, eh? Enjoy! -Thorne

Set Three Years After PT. 1:

Life for her revolved around work in the A.M. and community college in the P.M. If she wasn’t brewing cappuccinos and baking apple turnovers, she was writing research papers and taking physics exams. It was hectic and it was hard, much harder than anything she’d done, but it was her life, and she was going to make the best of it. The money she’d taken from her savings account had only lasted her long enough to get a decent one bedroom one bathroom apartment in a small complex and the rest went towards tuition. The coffee shop two blocks from her building had fortunately been looking for a new hire when she arrived, and she took the chance where it was, not going to look the gift horse in its mouth.

The life she lived now was a complete 180 from her old one. Back then, she didn’t have to work (though she did at a high-end department store in the mall—her father got her the job but at least she had one) and there wasn’t anything she couldn’t get with a swipe of a credit card. Now she was on a budget that consisted of five and ten tips and the last time she actually bought a new pair of shoes over a hundred dollars had been last year when she needed them for an interview, and even then, it cost her a limb.

Everything was so different, but she didn’t want to go back, preferring to be on her own and away from Gotham. From the newspapers and media, her family had convinced the world that she’d taken a few years to go overseas and spend time in Europe. A mental reprieve, they’d called it. Partially true if she was honest, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth about it lest they learned where she was. She didn’t go through all that trouble to be found within three years.

“Melisandre.”

Maybe I should move again?

“Melisandre?”

Moving would take a long time but it would be effective.

“Melisandre!”

Someone grabbed her arm over the counter, and she jerked with a start, eyes widening as she finally realized someone was standing in front of her.

“Barry?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Finally,” he snorted. “I’ve been calling your name for like ten minutes now.”

She felt a flush creep along her cheeks, and she smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Usual?” she murmured, marking a disposable coffee cup with a marker.

Barry nodded with understanding and handed her a credit card. “I hear you. How’s studying going for that physics exam?” His blue eyes darted to the science book she had sprawled over the counter.

“It’s going,” she muttered and turned, starting to mix together his latte. “I still can’t get the thermodynamic laws down. They’re a bit confusing.”

“Yeah, it’ll take a while. You know if you need my help, all you gotta do is ask, right?”

Shrugging, she glanced at him as she poured. “You’re a busy man, Barry. I can’t have you trying to help me while trying to solve cases too.”

Barry chuckled and accepted the freshly poured latte. “I’m an excellent multitasker, Melisandre. Besides, you don’t have to worry about it messing with my work.” She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. “Seriously, shoot me an email about whatever questions you’ve got, and I’ll take a look at ‘em, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed warily, and she inquired, “You’re sure it won’t interfere? I’d hate for you to get in trouble for working on non-work-related things.”

“I promise, Melisandre,” he smiled and accepted a bag of apple turnovers too. He couldn’t help but pull one out and bite into it, letting out a delighted noise. “God, what do you put in these things? They’re phenomenal.”

She giggled and winked as he handed her a twenty. “A baker never reveals her secret, but if you really want to know, I use a little vanilla extract.”

Barry shook his head with a chuckle and started making his way to the door. “See you later, Melisandre!”

Waving at him, she called, “Bye Barry! Take care!”

Just as he opened the door, he stopped and spun around, suddenly asking, “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Blinking, she glanced at the physics book then back to him. “Well, I was going to be studying for the exam…why?”

“My nephew is in town and I wanted to introduce him to you. I’ve already mentioned you a bunch of times and he wants to meet you.”

Her face pinched. “Barry Allen, what did you tell that poor boy?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “That there’s a lonely college student who has no friends but has the greatest baking abilities in the world.”

“I cannot believe you told him I had no friends! Why!”

“You don’t.”

“Well, yeah! But still! You don’t just tell someone that! It makes me seem like there’s something wrong with me!”

Barry waved a hand. “Relax. Wally’s the least jerky person you’ll meet.” He smiled. “You’ll like him.”

She frowned. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Barry.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s here to see you and your wife, not come meet the person who feeds your apple turnover addiction.”

The blonde’s cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson and he spluttered, “It is not an addiction!” he spun around and marched through the door. “I’ll send him over tomorrow! Bye!”

And he left before she could even say a word.

***

It had to be hieroglyphics. It was either that or some ancient cuneiform he’d recently taken up interest in, because there was no way whatever he’d written on the paper was English.

She cocked her head to the side, muttering, “Jesus Christ, Barry, did you write this on a caffeine bender? Your writing is like chicken scratch.” She tipped her head to the other side trying to decipher it when someone leaned over her shoulder.

“Which problem do you need help on?” they asked, and she pointed to the sheet.

“I have no idea what that says.” She turned and saw a red-haired stranger. “If you think you can, be my guest.”

He took it and read over it a moment, green eyes scanning over the page then he said, “Let’s see, he wrote first, ‘The third law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of a system at absolute zero is a well-defined constant. This is because a system at zero temperature exists in its ground state, so that its entropy is determined only by the degeneracy of the ground state.’”

Pausing, he scanned it again and added, “Then he marked a note beside it and wrote, ‘In simplistic terms, if an object reaches the absolute zero temp. of (0 K = -273.15C = -459.67°F), its atoms will stop moving. In other words, at absolute zero, the entropy of a perfectly crystalline substance is zero.’”

Glancing at her, he smiled. “Make sense now?”

She huffed and nodded, taking the sheet back. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t even know how you managed to get all that from his writing.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Barry’s handwriting is deplorable.”

Her eyes went wide, and she immediately questioned, “How did you?”

Sticking a hand out, he greeted, “Wally West. I’m Barry’s nephew.”

Shaking his hand, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he actually told you to come up here and meet me.” A smile came across her lips. “I’m Melisandre Hale.”

“That’s a pretty name, Melisandre.”

“Thank you,” she grinned and waved him to one of the bar-stools on the adjacent side of the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll get you something to eat and drink.” As she slid behind the counter, she inquired, “Anything specific?”

Wally stared at the bored, offhandedly mentioning, “Barry said something about apple turnovers that could make you cry with joy, so I’ve gotta have one of those.” His evergreen eyes met hers. “Maybe two if I’m being honest.”

She grunted, but a grin crossed her lips, nevertheless. “Barry exaggerates a lot, Wally. They’re good, but they’re not mind-blowingly good.”

“Then I guess that leaves me to be the judge,” he countered with a smirk. “What should I drink?”

She thought for a moment then offered, “Have any judgments about drinking before five o’clock?”

He let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

With a grin, she turned and started working her magic and a moment later, she was sliding a plate with two iced apple turnovers over along with a clear steaming mug of dark coffee with cream on top. She leaned her hip on the counter and watched him pick up one of the apple turnovers and take a bite.

Immediately his eyes went wide, and he exclaimed, “Holy shit.” He gaped at her. “This is delicious, Melisandre!”

Despite herself, her cheeks warmed, and she gave him an easy smile. “Thanks, Wally.” She nodded to the crystal mug. “Try the Irish coffee.”

He did so and tossed his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan that had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Wally was on his second turnover and he looked at her.

“You’ve gotta open up a bakery or something, Melisandre. Your pastries are awesome.”

She huffed and took the plate from him as he finished the last bite. “Let me get through college first and then I’ll wonder how to rack up enough to open a shop.”

“What are you studying?”

Pausing, she tossed a quick glance at him. “There’s no specification right now. I’m just doing general studies to get all the basics out of the way.” She put the dish in the sink and started rinsing it. “I’m at the four-C right now.” His brows pulled together, and she added, “Central City Community College.”

He snapped his fingers. “Right! It’s been a while since I went to the four-C.”

Her eyes found his and she curiously asked, “Did you go there?”

“Yeah, a few years back.”

“You don’t look that much older than I am. How old are you, Wally?”

He sipped his coffee and set it down as he replied, “I turned twenty-eight a month ago.”

“Happy belated birthday,” she smiled, and he gave her one in return.

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

“Hmm, happy belated birthday to you as well.” He grinned, quipping, “How’s it feel to finally be able to legally do all the things you were doing before you turned twenty-one?”

She shot him a look. “Shame on you, Wally West, for assuming I was doing illegal things.” He chuckled and she shrugged. “But to answer your question, it feels great, so thanks.”

Wally snorted at that. “My best friend and I got absolutely hammered on our twenty-firsts and swore to never drink hard liquor again after we woke up in the bathroom in our underwear after passing out on the floor.”

A shudder passed over her at her own memory of waking up beside the toilet after her birthday celebration with a bottle of white rum. She cocked a hand up with her water bottle in it. “Here, here,” she toasted and took a sip as Wally raised his coffee and drank too.

She glanced at him. “Are you in school, or are you done?”

“I finished a while ago. I work out of a tower with a group of friends in Manhattan.”

For a moment, her eyes drifted to the simple pair of jeans and graphic shirt he was wearing. She lived in the upper area of Gotham and she knew what uptown Manhattan was like, and it wasn’t jeans and t-shirts.

Evidently, he did too because he scowled, “I have suits and ties, thank you very much.”

She snorted and took the empty mug from him. “I didn’t say anything, Wally.”

“You made a face.”

“Is a face a ground to be hostile?” she grinned. “I was just wondering what type of business in Manhattan ran on flash t-shirts and skinny jeans.” She eyed him. “Tech?”

He shrugged. “It’s…a bit of everything if I’m being honest.” It sounded like he didn’t exactly want to say, and she let it be, rinsing out his cup before setting it to dry.

A buzz sounded and she felt for her phone when he said, “That’s mine.” Wally pulled his phone out, read the message, and stood up. “I’ve gotta go, Melisandre.”

She nodded and took the twenty-dollar bill he handed her, waving her off when she tried to hand back the change. As he started towards the door, she called, “Wally?”

He turned on his heel and waited and she felt foolish for saying it, but she admitted with warmth in her cheeks, “It’s been a while since I had any semblance of a friend…so thanks for this afternoon.”

Wally gave her a pearly white grin. “Barry said you’d say something like that,” he chuckled as she scowled and he added sincerely, “Can never have too many friends, Melisandre…and I hope you’ll become a great one of mine. So far, you already are.”

She smiled, “Same here, Wally.” The bell signaled his exit and she let out a heavy sigh as her heart warmed in her chest at the feeling of a newfound friendship.

***

She was dead on her feet when she finally got through her front door and into her living room, practically collapsing onto the couch. Though it wasn’t far from the truth as she flopped down and toed off her shoes, heaving a long and winded sigh as she stared at the dark ceiling. She wanted to turn on the lamp on the table beside her, but she didn’t want to move. Hell, she barely wanted to get up and take a shower, so she didn’t go to bed sweaty.

Just a moment. She thought. Just a moment to close my eyes and I’ll get up and go shower.

Of course, the second the shut them, she was opening them to her phone telling her it was two A.M. She groaned and picked herself off the couch to shuffle into her bedroom, and when she got there, she peeled off the clothes from her body and let them fall, not caring about the hamper just a foot away. She’d do it tomorrow after class.

The shower was quick, and she crawled into bed a few minutes later, glancing out the window at the stars that were still in the night sky. Even if she tried to avoid thinking about it, she couldn’t, and her mind drifted to when she was a young girl and would stare out the window in her bedroom back in Gotham, watching the spotlight come alive and paint the silhouette of the bat symbol against the night sky.

She missed them. She missed them a lot. Missed eating meals at a full table and the laughter in the manor. Hell, she even missed being ignored, because at least then she could see familiar faces every day. Now, it was wake up, go to work, go to class, then come home. And the process repeated every morning. She was alone in a city where she didn’t know anyone except for one forensic scientist and his wife, going to a college that didn’t even have her real identity. She’d not even said the name “(Y/N) Wayne” out loud for fear that someone with super hearing would hear her and tell her father, instead going by “Melisandre Hale”, a twenty-one-year-old born and raised Central City citizen going to community college. It pained her to admit, that with her decision to grant herself the freedom she desired, it came with a heavy price, and that was the loneliness. And it was worse compared to what it was like back then.

Sighing, she rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, hoping that when she shut her eyes, she’d stop thinking about what she left behind. Unfortunately, the universe and her mind were never kind, and as she drifted to sleep, she saw the pained faces of her family.

[cerinefalls]

‎

𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝒹

An Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Summary: On the way back to UA after a weekend of field training, the bus breaks down. Luckily for classes 1A and 1B, Vlad was able to find you rooms! Unluckily for everyone, it was not a big hotel. Time to share, and your roommate was... you guessed it; Izuku Midoriya! Good thing, too, because you're not feeling too good.

Other Parts: Shoto Todoroki

Content: SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Suggestive Themes

｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ

You wandered down the halls near aimlessly as you searched for your room. It shouldn't have been so hard to find a room in a hotel, but unfortunately for you, this place had no order. Room 412 should've been right between 410 and 414, but in its place was room 416. Was your room even located on the fourth floor? You were unsure at this point.

"Four twelve... four twelve... four twelve... It should be here, but these aren't in numerical order. Maybe if I retrace my steps, I'll see that I missed something! No, these aren't in order either. Are villains trying to disorient us? Maybe I'm thinking too hard... " You overheard a familiar voice muttering down the hall. It was nearing you, but you couldn't point out exactly who it was.

As you continued down the dimly lit hallway, the voice gradually got louder. Soon, it sounded like it was right in front of you. It was right in front of you! You bumped into the source of the sound and nearly fell backward. That was an oddly soft wall you'd run into.

"I am so sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you, I swear! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I-" Now you knew who it was. Who else went on and on that way? It had to be Deku.

"No- I'm fine, Midoriya." You brushed off whatever initial shock you'd felt and stood up straight again. "You said 412?" The room. That was your room, and if he'd seen it, you needed to know where.

"What? Oh, the woman at the desk told me to look for room 412, but I can't find it anywhere." Izuku replied to you without hesitation. His brain was running at full capacity at all times, after all.

"She did? That's my room too. Can we look together?" You'd been grouped with Midoriya? That was unexpected. You'd expected someone like him to end up with Bakugo or Todoroki, but it looked like he was stuck with you. You didn't know him too well, but he probably didn't mind.

"Yeah! This must be a test." He nodded, accepting your offer. Was he always thinking about hero work? That looked like what the hero course did to them all.

The two of you spent minute after minute hauling luggage around the fourth floor. After a while, Izuku offered to take your bags for you. You declined- but were starting to wish you hadn't. Double-checking, triple-checking- nothing provided results, and it was beginning to tire you.

"Maybe it's on another floor?" You pitched your idea to the now pacing and muttering mess of a boy. He'd hardly heard you through his thick thought bubble.

"Of course! If all of these are out of order, there's no telling how disorienting the next floors are. It must be somewhere else!" Had he seriously not considered that before? You hesitated to tell him because you thought he'd already checked the other floors. Then again, this wouldn't be the first time someone had to suggest something obvious to him.

Izuku led you to the elevator and pressed the button to move down a floor. One floor at a time, that's how you'd do it. The wait was long, and Midoriya appeared lost in thought the entire time. Soon, the quiet elevator ride lowered you to the third floor.

"Alright, let's check around here for the-"

"I found it!" Midoriya interrupted you with his outburst from slightly down the hall. Sure enough, on the 3rd floor, 412 was sat between 310 and 314. It made you wonder what happened to room 312.

Never mind any of your questions or concerns, it was time to sit! Finally, after all that time training, you got to sit on a sturdy piece of furniture. The odd circumstances didn't even cross your mind as you rushed past Izuku and onto the red couch that sat against the wall in the front of your hotel room.

"You're smart," Midoriya smiled wide as he shut the door behind you. After the click of the lock settled your arrangement, he too sat on the couch at the separate end. "So it... looks like we're going to be spending the night here. I'm glad Class B's teacher was able to find us rooms." He nodded to himself.

"Me too." You nodded, stretching out. As you finished your relieving movement and turned to Izuku, you were met with an intense stare. He stopped when he noticed you looking, though. "What?" You questioned.

"Oh- nothing! It's just... your side. It's scratched," He mentioned. Right! that cut you'd gotten during practice. You'd forgotten all about it when the bus broke down. It wasn't bleeding anymore, and the pain had gone away. "Is it bad?" Izuku sounded concerned.

"No! Just a silly surface wound. I'm sure it'll be fine once we get to recovery girl." You responded fine, but Izuku did not seem to agree with you. He looked worried, face sporting a frown.

"You should really make sure it gets cleaned and patched up." He stood up and walked towards the bathroom, opening the door and disappearing inside. For a while. you wondered why. What was he doing in there? All that rustling and banging had to mean something.

"They didn't really have bandages, so I-" Eventually, your questions were answered. Izuku exited the bathroom with a first-aid kit and... other things.

"Bandages? I'm not bleeding." You tilted your head a few times, trying to see what he'd come up with. Deku was surely one to know how to wrap wounds, so it couldn't have been anything outrageous.

"You were! It's important to keep it sealed, even if you aren't bleeding anymore." The reason this green-haired boy was panicking was unannounced to you, but in midst of his worry, he made a good point. Who knew what lurked in this hotel? An infection was the last thing you needed.

"Well... alright, Midoriya. How do you plan on helping this, though?" You asked, agreeing to let him help you. Izuku smiled wryly before pulling from behind him a... roll of toilet paper?

"The toiletries here aren't soft and crumbly. They're sort of like... paper. This can make a good temporary bandage when used correctly." His smile was unsure- almost as if he wanted you to fact-check him. You nodded to say you trusted him, but as for the quality of his information? Well, nobody knows.

"Okay... and how do you expect to get that to stick?" You could ask Sero- but, other than that, all options looked to be off the table.

"The first aid kit doesn't have gauze, but it does have some tape left! Skin-safe, of course!" His smile looked more sure now. It faded as he began to put together his makeshift bandaging. He looked focused as he wiped your skin clean with alcohol pads and waved them dry.

He seemed focussed- not on the process- but on keeping you comfortable. Izuku knew he had the ability to hurt you if he wasn't careful, because even though you'd felt fine before, you flinched each time he pressed around the cuts. They were not completely healed, after all.

"Normally, I'd tell you to go take a shower..." He spoke under his breath, tape holder securely between his teeth as he tore pieces to use. "But, because of how these are... I know it'll hurt if you do." Midoriya gently secured a large, doubled-over section of toilet paper to your side. He was right to say the texture was that of paper because you would surely hate to wipe with what he'd placed on you.

"But, shouldn't I shower anyway? We were training, and..." You tried to finish your sentence, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to when you noticed Izuku lost in thought. He was staring at your waist, your top moved with one of his hands as the other carefully ran across the 'bandaging' he'd just applied.

"Might need another layer..." He mumbled, not paying all too much attention to what you said- until you called him, that is.

"Izuku?" You leaned as close to eye level with him as you could and it startled him.

"Oh- sorry!" Whether it was his name or the sharp eye contact that drew his attention was unknown. What you did know was that he'd quickly backed away from you, unhanding your clothes and swiping your side a bit as he stumbled backward on the couch. You tried not to let him know it'd hurt, but you couldn't help the instinctual jolt away from him that followed. "Did I- oh no, I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I was just scared I was making you uncomfortable and then you looked at me and you said my name and I got scared and..." He... was... mumbling to himself again.

"Midoriya, it's fine. I was just-" You attempted to calm him down, but he was too far gone. It appeared his stunt of focus was interrupted by his feeling of embarrassment. Maybe you should try his first name again? "...Izuku?" It worked! His muttering paused and he looked up at you. His expression was unreadable for a moment.

"You said it again..." He sat up and paused, clearly trying to deduce something. Was that seriously all it took to calm him down?

"Said... what?" You questioned, holding a hand to the throbbing pain on your midsection. He had a harder hit than you thought he would- especially for an accident. He must've really sought to keep a light hand before.

"My... name. I'm sorry if that sounds odd! It's just..." He looked away from you, not without glancing at the hand you held to your side. "Ever since Kacchan and I got to UA... Well, I guess I didn't realize people knew my name." That was true. Bakugo had given Izuku that nickname, and it spread like a rash. Midoriya was strong to have flipped it to be his hero name. Ever since then, no one had called him by anything but Deku or Midoriya.

"I hope I'm not crossing any lines by using it- it just seemed to capture your attention." Your response was direct and apologetic.

"It's not that," Midoriya shook his head. "I have no problem with it! It's just... new." He mustered another smile and met your eyes again. You quickly moved your hand but you knew he'd seen it. Your intention wasn't to make him feel bad! It just hurt, was all.

"Well, Izuku... how about we go to sleep? It's getting late," You tested him. His smile formed more properly this time!

"Yes, but I really should add another layer or two to that. I wouldn't want it to tear in your sleep." He was calm enough to say that without flustering himself. Perhaps the same focus he had earlier had returned? No, that wasn't it.

The look in his eyes as he carefully followed the same process he had before matched the look there was during training today. He wasn't just focused on helping you- he was in a hero's mindset. It would've been endearing had you not known about his crippling hero complex.

Nevermind that.

Once Izuku had finished putting a more cushiony layer over your midriff, he backed away to view what he'd done. He seemed proud of himself. Rightfully so! Because he'd truly done his best in this endeavor.

"This doesn't hurt, does it?" He moved the hand he'd used to hold up your top down to your waist, his second hand doing the same on the opposite side. Midoriya applied a gentle amount of pressure with both hands, and shockingly, it didn't hurt at all!

"Wow... it... doesn't-" You shook your head and looked down at his hands. It was a bit interesting- looking at him. He still resembled an entirely different state of mind as he sat there tending to you. After a couple more squeezes, though, your own mind wandered.

You attempted to fight it by taking a more literal view of things. You looked first at his arms. They were freckled splotchily. It was an interesting pattern in contrast to the multitude of horizontal scars on his hands. His hands... you couldn't quite see them. The fabric of your shirt had completely fallen over top of them as he continued to pressure check. This method of literal examination only worked for as long as you could focus on it, though. Once Izuku began gently dragging his hands up and down your midsection to check for sturdiness, that strategy was less effective.

"It's not slipping... I think you're good for tonight. Let me know... if it... gets..." As Midoriya lifted his head to make proper eye contact while he spoke, he noticed an all-too-familiar expression on your face. Heat had risen to your cheeks, and you were clearly averting your eyes from his own. Had he made you... nervous? He wasn't sure, but it seemed you were timid in comparison to earlier. Izuku slowly removed his hands from under your shirt and placed them on your knees, watching you closely. "Are you alright?" He asked, voice saturated in concern.

"I'm fine! Nothing's wrong." You brushed off his concern, though you were still twiddling around. "You said it seems alright?" You aimed to change the subject. It was time for bed anyway! Midoriya had to be exhausted from today's training, after all.

"Yes... I applied about as much pressure as a mattress would and you didn't flinch. I think you'll be alright to sleep," He nodded. Would you be able to get him back to his usual mindset any time soon? It was beginning to get uncomfortable– usually, Deku was the one getting flustered, but right now he was calm and you were the one stumbling over yourself.

All you could do was nod. Eventually, Midoriya backed away from you to allow you to change. It was just the break you needed. You walked into the bedroom with your bag and pulled out your bedclothes. You were met with a shock when you turned to put them on, though.

"That can't be right..." You said that louder than you'd meant to. Who wouldn't, though? This was a room for two people, wasn't it?

"Is everything okay in here?" Midoriya was approaching, but you didn't hear him entirely. You wished he'd knocked when he entered, though. Izuku walked in on you with your shirt hanging from your neck. You rushed to put it back on, slipping it onto your arms as he stepped forward.

"Only... one?" He questioned. It seemed he hadn't noticed you. It wasn't surprising because the two of you were confused about the same thing. Be it some twist of fate, or some odd plot device– the sight in front of you was absurd. There was only one bed.

"I'm sure this is a mistake. I mean, our room was on the wrong floor," You mentioned.

"You're right... but, I don't think we can do anything about it." Midoriya was shifting from foot to foot behind you. "I should sleep on the couch! You're injured, and I don't want you to get hurt any more than you are." The way he spoke was not that of his usual self. He still sounded like he was thinking tactically as opposed to how he normally would.

"No! I mean- no. Izuku, you can stay in here." You looked at the bed once again. There may have only been one- but it was huge! No reason for him to sleep on the couch at all. "Even so, what if I do get hurt? I'd rather you be here to help me." Were you doubting his toilet paper bandages?

...You were. You were doubting his toilet paper bandages.

"I-" Had you finally choked him up? Gotten at least some Midoriya-like response? You had! For once, you managed to make him think about the situation. You didn't know why, but for some reason, you were pleased by it.

"You..?" You prodded.

"Well! I suppose you may be right..." He was looking away from you now, rocking back and forth. You'd gotten him just as nervous as he'd had you. Midoriya was clearly trying to rationalize what you'd said. You were correct- his creation was his creation. If it tore or fell off, he would have to be the one to replace it. So it was settled. Midoriya would sleep on one end, you on the other.

You attempted to change your clothes once Izuku had left but soon noticed that would be more difficult than planned. When you attempted to lift your arms over your head, you felt a painful sting around you. You could hear his pacing around come to a stop when you audibly expressed distress. You'd just gotten your shirt off fine! Why was the wound hurting now?

Things began to make sense over time, though. You'd encountered a villain with no flashy or visible quirk– but they'd hit you with something unique to them. That kitty had claws, and it was looking like they'd hit you with a concealed weapon.

"Are you okay!?" Izuku rushed in soon after you'd realized what was going on. He sounded remarkably worried. Perhaps your cry of pain was louder than you'd thought...

"I'm fine... I think." You had to sit down. The more time that passed, the more painful things became. "I don't think that villain I fought had a mutant quirk..." You huffed, eyes watery. It was only downhill from here.

"Really? Did I jot it down wrong? What's happening?" He was frantic in his efforts to gather information. Midoriya sat down on the side of you that wasn't injured to avoid hurting you.

"The more... I move..." You were slowly growing out of breath. Were you panicking yourself? It felt as though maybe the venomous scratches raked harder with the rise and fall of your chest. "I don't know... I was fine until I tried to move my arms... maybe I did it too fast?"

"Oh no this is bad... the only time I've seen a quirk like this was..." No need to type out all of his panic-filled sentences. Long story short, he felt a bit responsible for your pain. You hadn't started hurting until he tried to fix it, after all.

"Izuku, I don't care." You began to steady your breathing so that you could talk to him properly, though you still sounded strained. "I just want to go to sleep, and I won't be able to get there on my own." If he really felt he was at fault, he'd likely oblige to helping you. You at least hoped he would, because the pain you felt only got worse when you attempted to care for yourself.

"Are you sure?" He sounded worried again now; not for you, but his skills. It was much like the worry he'd harbored while bandaging you. If he was not careful now, he could really hurt you. His ceaseless trembling made his unease all the more clear, and you all the more impatient.

"Hey- just think of it how you did last time. You know... like you're being a hero?" You mentioned his earlier attitude, and almost like a lightbulb had been lit, he changed his demeanor.

"I was acting like that? I'm sorry- I didn't notice." He stood up and stepped in front of you. "But, if it helped... I guess I could do it again." Izuku was visibly trying to switch attitudes again. It did not take long. Soon, he was mumbling things he noticed about the quirk's effect on you while looking for a place to start. Now, you felt the same hands that'd helped wrap you on your sides once again. This time, though, he was focused on your clothes.

"That's your pajama shirt over there, right?" He asked, voice wary. For a second you were unsure why.

"Yes, that's the one. Could you bring it to me?" You replied simply. If you kept a work-based mindset, it would help him maintain one as well.

"Of course! But, well... I guess what I'm trying to say here is that you shouldn't put it on on your own..." Though he was attempting to remain professional, he couldn't help the tint that covered his cheeks. This was embarrassing. "I'll look away! Only one of us needs to see for me to help you, right?" He was starting to let the fear seep through his voice. You brushed it off to save his pride.

You just nodded, assuming it'd work. It did work! Though you couldn't focus the entire time. Izuku ran his hands down the sides of your top, grabbing the bottom hem gently. He did his best not to bump into you or cause you to move more than you had to, knowing it'd be painful.

It was hard to get your arms up, but you did it for as long as you could while Midoriya slid off your day clothes and neatly fixed your bed shirt atop of you. Once he'd let it down, he helped you bring your arms down and laid you on the bed.

"I promise to stay close so you can call me if you need to. Only if you want to, that is! I don't know how long the effects of that quirk will last, so..." Whatever the effects were. It was a bit hard to tell. As you laid still, the pain from before began to subside. Sure enough, you were just fine to lay on the bed. Neither side of you caused trouble–

That is until you chose to remove the bottoms you'd been wearing. It was a tad warm with another person in bed, and you were under the covers anyhow. It shouldn't have mattered! Sadly for you, though, the last bit of stretch you needed to move them past your hips was too much for your body to handle. Perhaps the bend in your midsection was what caused the quirk to activate? Every time you moved your core, venomous stings prickled throughout your body. Izuku felt the sheets rustling and turned over to check on you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sitting up on his forearm to look over you. You stopped moving, a wise decision, and cleared your throat to respond to him.

"Well, I was trying to get comfortable, and..." Your sentence trailed as you began to think this was nothing worth troubling him with. "It's nothing, Izuku. Just a little pain."

"Well, how can I help?" He sounded once again concerned, and you could feel him sitting up behind you.

"No ways you'd want to! Don't worry about it, really." You insisted, but he insisted harder. It took quite some time, but eventually, he broke you into telling him the issue. Midoriya was clearly rattled, but he also dispensed a strange look of determination. He did tell you he would be there to help you, and he was determined to live up to his word. A hero may be put in uncomfortable situations after all.

After a long list of questions asking for consent to help you with your... specific problem, he raised enough courage to scoot behind you and begin his assistance. What happened next nearly stunned you. Izuku did his best not to move you as he gently slid his left hand beneath your hips. He felt around for a moment, and you could almost hear him panicking when he couldn't find the top seem of your pants. He decided it'd be best to find the top using his other hand, and so shortly after you found his right hand slinking fingers around your waist and traveling down to your thigh.

Your face burned as he continued to feel around for your clothes. Eventually, he found what he thought to be the hook he was looking for. As he pulled and you shifted backward into  him to stop the fabric from moving, he realized he'd picked the wrong thing.

"I am so sorry! I didn't mean to- oh this is bad. I'm so so sorry, I didn't know that was there and I-" Boy was he good at talking. You shushed him quickly, though, feeling well enough to use your own hand to guid his down to where your bottoms really were. You attempted not to squirm as he carefully pulled them past your thighs and got them off of your feet.

"Thank you." You smiled, sporting a grateful expression. The both of you were thankful it was dark, because each of you had blushed faces due to what'd happened under the covers.

"You're very welcome." Deku sounded distant when he replied. He attempted to act as normal as possible, but the air in the room was thick enough to suffocate you. Today was eventful to say the very least.

"Hey, Izuku?" You called him, hoping you could surface his mind.

"Oh- yes?" He sounded attentive enough.

"Let's.. go to bed, yeah?"

"That... is a great idea."

In the stoic silence of your room you eventually found yourself drifting into sleep. Izuku hadn't moved his hands from around your waist when he brought them up from your legs. You were glad, because had he made any sudden movements in his startled state he would've done more harm than good. It wasn't like the position of his hands was uncomfortable, either. Soon enough, both of you were unconscious. It would be a shame if someone walked in that night... oh well. Not like they could find the room.

｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ

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[taco-bell-mitchy]

I Don’t Like You

Rindou x F!Reader

-Someone likes you, but they’d jump out a window before they admit it. Literally.

Warnings: cussing, annoying Ran, minor violence (?)

School confessions were always so awkward. Especially when greeted with rejection. So Rindou Haitani was writing his, he cringed. He simply couldn’t keep these feelings in any longer. He also didn’t know how to express his feelings very well. So what was he supposed to do? Just tell you he likes you? It’s not like you would even believe it. Which he doesn’t blame you for. As Rin seems to have a resting bitch face.

Anything he tells you, you either take it the wrong way because of his face, or he says it wrong because of his well…face. His tone can be quite monotone as well which doesn’t help. So when you change you hair style one day and he stares at you, you automatically never do it again as you think he’s disgusted at it. Or when he ask, “Is that a new shirt?” With a plain face and bored eyes you assume he also doesn’t think it’s very cute. So even if he did try to confess in person, you’d probably think he’s playing a sick joke.

Crumpling up another letter he became infuriated. He just can’t seem to get his feelings right. His cheeks are burning red as he’s writing all of them. Ran see his brothers irritability but leaves him alone for a while, until he can’t get over the annoyed yelling.

“Okay what’s wrong?” Ran asked leaning on the door frame, “Nothing.” Rindou’s irritability was visible even more in his voice. Ran looked around the room at crumpled papers and smirked while picking one up.

“Dear y/n, I know I’m not the best at expressing myself but I’m truly in love with you-”

“STOP IN RAN!!!” Rindou screamed at brother like a toddler asking for a cookie. Rindou’s face had furrowed brows but his scarlet cheeks told another story. “My little brother is writing a love letter~” Rindou looked away, “Shut up, I’m trying my best.” Ran sighed with a smile while crouching down next to his brother. “Your big brother is to the rescue. We’ll write the best love letter ever.” Rindou shook him away, “I don’t need your help Ran. Besides I’m not gonna even wrote it anymore I’m done.” Ran shrugged while walking out his room, “Well, a bit of advice still, just write what you want her to know, how you actually feel. Goodnight~”

The next morning Rindou shoved his school supplies and folders into his bag once more and ran to school. He was sleep deprived from all the writing he had done. Only in the end deciding not to even give it to her. He got to school eventually and eased into the day.

Today I got to school early. Unlike most days. I walked into the classroom sitting in my assigned seat. Looking beside me towards the window where Rindou Haitani usually sat earlier than me. I was a bit relieved he wasn’t here today. Though, yes he was easy on eyes, every single day and second he seemed to want to murder me.

He would ask if my clothing was new with such a bored face as if he were judging me for my choice. Or I would change my hair style for a hair and I’d watch him stare into my heart and soul the whole day. Sometimes when I’m laughing with friends, later in the day they’d tell he was glaring daggers at them too. It always seemed like no matter what I did it didn’t impress him. It didn’t bother me at first but now I just wonder why he hates me.

That’s when he walked in. Messy hair and wide eyes. It’s the most expression I’ve ever seen him have. I looked down to hide my face. I admit, my feelings towards him were…complicated. The reason I wondered he hated me was because I felt anything but hate towards him. When he wasn’t looking at me, he seemed so peaceful. On my way home I’d see him laughing with his brother and being a normal guy. Though he was a delinquent he still was charming. Yet he hates me.

I was pulled out of my thinking at a second loud voice. Ran Haitani. Huh? He wasn’t in this class. The first Haitani brother, well I see him as second, was never here. So it’s odd for him to be loudly yelling to his younger brother. “Aye Rindou!! I think you accidentally packed something of mine. Can I check?” Rindou looked over to him and sighed, “Whatever.” Ran’s smile seemed to lighten.

He rummaged through Rin’s backpack. Finally pulling out a sheet of paper. It seemed to be folded and messy. Ran yelled a quiet ‘yah’ and unfolded it. He looked over at me and since I was already staring at him we made eye contact. “Y/n! This is for you!” Rindou looked up at what he was holding and as I went to reach it Rindou grabbed it.

“Stop it! Don’t fucking touch things that aren’t yours.” I pulled my hand back at his harsh tone. Ran frowned, “Stop being a pussy Rin, just give it up-” Rin held the paper tighter. “It’s none of your business Ran leave me alone. And you,” he pointed towards me, “Dont listen to him he’s an annoying fuck who doesn’t know anything.” I felt awkward especially with the disgust in his eyes. At least it always felt like disgust when he stared at me. Ran grabbed the paper again but Rin struggled leaving Ran pushing Rindou against the open window.

Ran stared Rindou hard in the eyes, “I won’t let go of this.”

“I know”

“I wish push you out this window if you really want it to not be seen.”

Rindou felt his heart race is frustration, “Do it. I won’t change my mind.” And not to Rindou’s surprise. He actually did. The few students rushed to window, we were only on the second story, but it was still sure to hurt. I, too, rushed to the window. And I saw Rindou’s face as he stared up at us while laying in the bushes. I laughed as he mouthed a ‘fuck you’ to his brother. Who simply laughed and flipped him off.

I hurried down to him, even if he rejected me now, or looked at me with disgusted eyes, or if cussed me out. I’d go to him this time with no regrets. So as I rushed down to my luck I still see him there. Now he’s sitting upright brushing leaves off him with a pained expression. I walk over to him crouching down. He looked up at me with the same cold eyes. I smiled at him offering a hand.

“Hey. You okay?” He stood up gripping my hand softly, “Yeah sorry about earlier, Ran can be a lot.” I nodded it became silent between us I stared down. We still held hands. He was about to let go but I pulled harder, “Wait! I have to tell you something.” His eyes peeked in interest. “Yes?” I let go of his hand and held my own. Breathing in I finally said, “I know you aren’t quite fond of me but I hope you at least get to know me better because I like you. I think if you get to know me better it’ll be easier to like me right? I mean I understand if you like someone else or even if you’re dating someone then sorry! But I can’t keep this in forever-” I stopped talking at his bubbly laughter

“You sure do talk a lot, yeah?” I laughed a little too at that. I stopped when I felt him reach to intertwine our fingers. “Yeah, I guess you’re okay or whatever.” I looked up at him and smiled, “Thats cool or whatever.” I say mocking him. He smiled wider and looked towards the school door. “I guess we should be getting to class right now, come on let’s go.” I followed with our hands still intertwined. The paper in his other hand.

“What is that by the way?” Rindou’s face went red, “haha nothing…” I nodded and put aside my curiosity. He looked down at me and we made eye contact, “Let’s go when thing straight though, I definitely don’t like you.” I rolled my eyes, “Yeah okay Rindou, you definitely don’t like me.”

But you both knew. He definitely did like you.

Bonus:

“Y/n did he give you the letter!” Ran yelled excitingly towards me. I stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“I saw you two walking while holding hands so he gave the letter right?” I shook my head, “No, I was the one that confessed. I didn’t even know he had a letter.” Ran smirked with mischief. “I thought that might happen so i saved an old copy.” He gave me a wink and handed me the letter.

I read the letter which read,

“Dear Y/n,

I’ve liked you for a while now. No, loved you. I hope that doesn’t sound to bold but it’s the truth. I wish you could see the way I stare at you with so much love, but apparently most people don’t see it as love but more of disgust or ill intent. Still, it is love. I’ve always been afraid to admit it to you because I don’t want you to reject me. Now I hope you can really tell my true feelings. I want to hold your hands and kiss your face and have you in many vulnerable ways. Is this to straightforward? Ah I don’t know, it’s hard to write this and as I am I’m very confused. I hope one day you’ll just be able to see how much I love you. With my touch and stares. So please accept my confession.

Sincerely,

Rindou Haitani”

I smiled with my eyes a bit watery at how cheesy it was. “Wow Ran. We gotta make fun of him for this forever yeah?” Ran laughed loud. “oh I definitely like you!”

I think we’ll all get along fine. Oh and I was definitely gonna tease Rin.

[songbirdstyles]

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’)  and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And - 

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

 --

 “I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar. 

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him. 

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

 --

 For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned. 

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

 --

 You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is! 

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does? 

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.” 

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

 --

 You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

 --

 Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat. 

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We��re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different. 

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

 --

 You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth. 

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut. 

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation. 

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more. 

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 13

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 3125

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

********************************************************************

You watched as Dabi paced in front of you as you hugged your knees to your chest. Shoto had come to sit next to you and you were grateful for his calming presence. He kept giving you a weird look and then looking at his brother. He obviously wanted to ask what was going on between the two of you, but you mouthed, “later” at him and he shrugged it off.

“Ok. So what? He has a list of my safe houses. That’s okay… That’s arguably a good thing actually.” Dabi was thinking out loud trying, and even though his voice sounded calm, you could see the way his hands balled into fists so tight his staples were pulling.

“No one knows about this place. This is the safest house out of all of them. I bought it after I left the League, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and the security is the best money can buy.” He stopped his pacing and looked at his brother, “So…”

Shoto draped a lazy arm around you and you released a tense breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He quirked his head at his older brother, “So…? What? Why is that a good thing?”

Dabi’s eyes got this scary look. They practically glowed and you could tell whatever he was thinking probably wasn’t good. “It means we can pick them off. Set up traps for them at my other safe houses. It might take some time… we won’t know what houses they’re targeting so at first it’ll be a lot of guess work.” You could see a scheme hatching behind his eyes and for once he truly looked like a villain. “You said Bakugo was already out looking for them, right? I can meet up with him! They’re my houses after all, no one knows them better than me.”

He took off towards the bedroom mumbling something about needing to pack. Your wide eyes connected with Shoto’s, “How long before he remembers he’d have to leave me behind and panics?”

Shoto hummed, “I’d say about thirty seconds after he’s done packing.” He shrugged, “It’s not a bad plan honestly. I see he’s gotten rather attached to you lately though.”

You could hear the unspoken question and you weren’t sure you were ready to jump into that conversation just yet. It was bad enough that Katsuki knew. You shrugged and averted your eyes back to the door Dabi had disappeared behind. “We’ve gotten pretty close. You learn a lot about someone when you’re stuck in a house with them.”

“SHIT!”

Shoto sighed, “Sounds like he just remembered.”

Dabi stomped back into the living room and stopped a few feet in front of you. His stare was intense almost like he was trying to see through you. You could see his frustration growing as he battelled internally over what he should do. “I can’t leave you here by yourself… I don’t want to leave you at all. But- But I can’t take you with me either.” You could see his mind running a mile a minute trying to come up with a solution.

“You can leave me here, I’m not totally useless. I have the collar, so you can call me, check on my location and vitals and all that creepy shit.” You gestured to the younger Todoroki sitting next to you, “And I’m sure your brother and Izuku are dying to have some time to catch up. They can keep me company. Kiri too if need be.”

Dabi kneeled in front of you and laid his arms on either side of you, caging you in. “It would drive me insane leaving you here.”

You brushed your thumb over the spot between his eyes, smoothing out his worried expression. “More insane than if you stayed here and let Katsuki handle this on his own?”

His body sagged and he leaned his forehead onto your shoulder. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like you want me to go.”

You leaned your head on his. “Of course I don’t want you to go idiot. But I hate to break it to you, I know you pretty well… And I don’t think sitting here day after day listening to you complain about how you could do it better, sounds like fun.” He groaned because he knew you were right. “So, go ahead and go. I’ll be fine here I promise. Go catch some bad guys with Katsuki.”

“Ugh don’t say it like that. You make is sound like a cheesy buddy cop movie. I just hope your little hero friend isn’t squeamish because I’m not going to hold back.”

Shoto cleared his throat, “Some of us… little heroes… have seen enough shit to last a lifetime. Bakugo’s the hardest working and grittiest out of us all, so believe me when I say you don’t need to worry about him.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at his brother who he had just realized was practically cuddling with you. “Seeing death and dealing it out are two different things. I know he’s capable of killing someone, but mentally I don’t think he could cross that line.” He held a hand up to stop Shoto from arguing with him. “And I don’t care if he doesn’t want to get his precious hero hands dirty. Because that’s what I’m here for, and I’m honestly looking forward to it.”

You huffed, “Listen, I really don’t like the look you get when you talk about killing people. It’s sick… killing isn’t supposed to be fun you psychopath.”

His eyes shifted back to yours, “Baby girl. I want to make something clear. I will find the sick fucks that kidnapped you. I will torture them in the most painful and humiliating ways possible. By the time I’m done… they will welcome death with open arms. I’ll be doing them a favor.” His forehead pressed against yours. “Unless you’d rather I save them for you…My destroyer of men.”

You hit his shoulder, “I’d rather you let Katsuki arrest them! You know how I feel about killing villains.”

His hand gripped the back of your neck hard to force you to look at him, “…No. You know I can’t do that. The sooner you accept that, the easier all of this will be.” His thumb rubbed your cheek, “I know it sucks. But this is the world you live in now. We can’t trust anyone but ourselves.”

Shoto cleared his throat, “Listen I don’t know what is going on between the two of you, but I would appreciate it if you refrained from being kinky in my presence.”

Dabi growled, “Fuck off! You literally let yourself in unannounced… When all of this over I swear we’re leaving the fucking country. I’m so sick of you brats just coming over whenever you feel like it. We’re gonna leave and you’ll never see us again.”

Shoto quirked an eyebrow, “So… Even after all of this is resolved… you plan to still live with y/n?” You could see the gears turning in his head as he pieced all of this together. “Hmm interesting.” He got up and stretched. “Well I guess I’ll give you guys some alone time to… do whatever this is… just without me having to witness it.”

“Hey before you go… You sure you’re okay with keeping an eye on her while I’m gone?” You hadn’t heard Dabi sound so uncertain before. Usually he carried so much confidence that it was overwhelming. But now he sounded lost.

Shoto nodded, “Yeah it’s not a big deal. Izuku and I can take shifts. Kirishima will probably take over every now and then depending on how long you are gone… But we don’t mind. Y/n was right when she said we’d like to catch up with her.” He gave you an awkward wink that was completely out of character for him. “You’ve been hoarding her all to yourself for months now.” He walked down the hall and shouted, “Try not to be too loud. I’ll just pick the room that smells the least like sex.”

“Good luck! I’ve fucked her on every surface of the hou—” You slammed a hand over Dabi’s mouth to cut him off.

You hid your face in Dabi’s shoulder to stifle your laugh. “I love your brother so much. He has no filter and it’s honestly so refreshing.”

A quick slap to your thigh had you gasping, “I don’t appreciate you talking about my brother that way.” He nipped at your earlobe harshly, “Especially after I just agreed to let him stay here while I’m gone.”

Before you could respond he was standing up and throwing you over his shoulder, “I think I need to remind you who you fucking belong to.” He slapped your ass as you shrieked, “I might be gone for a while, so I think I need to give you something to remember.”

“You are so ridiculous! He’s literally in a committed relationship with another man!”

Dabi tossed you onto his bed and immediately fell on top of you. “He’s also my brother and I know that slut swings both ways.” He bit down hard on your shoulder, “I’m going to leave my fucking mark all over you before I go.” He sucked a bruise into your neck, “Tonight… I’m going to claim every fucking inch of you.”

He had you naked underneath him within seconds, kissing down the column of your neck. He continued down to suck a nipple into his mouth and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from screaming.

“Come on baby, let him hear you. Let him hear how good I treat you. Let him know that there is only one Todoroki for you.”

You wanted to argue with him. There was no way Shoto was interested in you at all. He’d been in love with Izuku since high school. But you were also enjoying the way Dabi was marking his territory. There was something so peaceful about giving up control to another person, especially someone you trust.

You let him kiss and suck and grope every part of you. In this moment you were his to do with as he wished. You didn’t care he was leaving mark after mark on your skin. He was claiming you, he was daring others to lay a finger on what it is his. And you fucking loved it. You loved the peace and the comfort that came with the idea of him declaring that you are his. The security of knowing he wouldn’t let another soul touch you.

He bit harshly into your inner thigh, making you yelp and buck your hips.

He chuckled darkly as he came back up and rubbed his nose against yours. “Baby girl, just look at your face. I haven’t even touched your pussy yet and you already looked so fucked out.” He dragged his fingers lightly over your stomach, across your ribs, over your breast, and finally let them settle on your neck.

You shivered and closed your eyes, “Dabiiii, stop teasing me.”

His fingers tightened around your throat. “You said some shit earlier that really got under my skin. And now I can’t decide if I should punish you or not.”

Your head spun as it tried to think about what you possibly could have said to upset him. “What – what did I say?”

Dabi leaned in sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before biting down hard. “You said…. You loved my brother.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you felt an intense heart overwhelm your face and neck. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Was he jealous? Did he want you to say you loved him? Is that really what he wanted to hear?

You hadn’t noticed him pulling his own pants down until he was thrusting into you. “I’m a selfish man y/n. I’m greedy. I don’t share. And hearing those sweet little words said about someone else.” His hips snapped into yours harder, as his fingers got even tighter around your neck to the point where you were sure there would be bruises.

His pace picked up and you could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead, “I wanna hear you say it. Who do you love?”

Your eyes rolled back as you croaked out a horse “you”

“That’s not good enough doll. I said! WHO do you FUCKIN LOVE?”

His fingers let go of your throat and as intense pleasure washed over you, leaving your legs shaking, “YOU!”

He fucked you through your orgasm before he followed right behind you, “That’s what I fuckin thought.”

He only parted with you long enough to clean the two of you up. He wandered to the bathroom to get a warm, wet towel. You hummed contently as rubbed it all over your body, especially over the sore new marks he had made on your skin. When he was satisfied, he tossed the rag to the floor to deal with later and rejoined you in bed. He pulled you to him, your back to his chest, and let out a huge sigh. “I’m really nervous about leaving you here. And it honestly makes me angry. I’ve never cared about another person like this, hell I’ve never even cared about my own well being this much.” You could feel him resting his chin on your shoulder, “It makes me feel weak and I hate it.”

You intertwined your fingers with his that were wrapped around your middle. “You know what they say about bravery right? Bravery isn’t not being scared. Only stupid people aren’t scared of anything. Bravery is being scared of something and doing it anyway.” You sank further into his embrace. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m scared too. Which is equally as frustrating.”

You could feel him kiss your shoulder, encouraging you to continue. “I used to be incredibly independent. I lived alone, I worked alone, because of the classified nature of my job I was pretty isolated. I didn’t need anyone, and I was more than happy to get shit done on my own…Now the thought doing anything without you gives me anxiety.”

He sighed, “If anything that makes me feel worse… I believe we have a classic case of codependency… it’s your fault by the way. For sucking me in to your annoyingly needy arms.”

“Says the guy who has his arms currently wrapped around me like a vice.” You wanted to stay in this sweet moment. He was never this open with you, never this soft. “And even though it’s not my fault, I will admit that I did kind of need you for everything when I first got here.” You felt his chest rumble with silent laughter. “But you never really complained, did you? To be honest I had thought you would have been… I don’t know… a little more… cold I guess.”

His hands heated up as they rubbed circles into your stomach. “To anyone else I definitely would have been.” He turned you around so he could pull your chest to his and rolled onto his back, tucking your head under his chin. “I was fucking toast the second you fell into my arms though.” He groaned, “UGH! I sound like such a pussy. I hate it.”

You pressed several kisses to his chest, “Well I don’t hate it.”

There was a long stretch of silence in which the two of you just held each other, not wanting to burst your bubble.

Dabi cleared his throat and you knew he wanted to talk about it. “Listen… While I’m gone all of the laws are still valid. You still need to take care of yourself. Just because I’m not here to force you to eat lunch doesn’t mean you don’t have to.” His fingers rubbed up and down your spine. “I’m sure if you ask the guys, they’ll work out with you, but they need to keep their filthy hands to themselves.” His hand stopped at your collar, “And as much I hate saying this. Don’t call me.”

You lifted your head and gave him a confused look, “What? You worried your side chicks will hear?”

He reached down and slapped your ass, “Shut up. I literally live with you and we never leave the house. That jokes not even funny.” His hand started to rub the same spot he had just slapped, “I’m being serious though. I don’t want you to call me. If something happens and they get my phone, or hell if they somehow capture me, I don’t want anything tying me to you. Shigaraki suspects you’re with me otherwise he wouldn’t be going through my safe houses. But he doesn’t know you’re with me, and I want to keep it that way.” His voice got quitter as he mumbled into your hair, “Besides… I think if I heard your voice I’d give up and come home.”

You froze, “Okay, that is officially the softest thing you’ve ever said to me… and I love it.”

He growled low in your ear, “That’s it, I’m going to start calling you whore, and making you call me sir. I’m losing my damn edge.”

You just giggled, knowing he was bluffing, but then again… he did get you a collar.

“I’m going to miss you… sir.”

“I’m gonna miss you too… my special little whore.”

You sarcastically beamed at him, “Aww you think I’m special?”

That night, you barley slept. You were so worried he’d leave without waking you up to say bye. So, as a consequence you woke up several times throughout the night and every time, he’d pull you closer and mumble a sleepy “still here.”

When morning finally came you sat on the bed with your kneed tucked under your chin as you watched him finish getting ready. Your eyes followed him as he walked around the room, taking his time. He knew the sooner he got dressed the sooner he’d have to leave.

Finally, when he had no other choice, he laced his boots up and looked at you. “Come here…” He held his arms out to you and you quickly slid into his embrace. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, okay?” He kissed the top of your head. “Listen to Shoto and try not to give him too much shit. Follow the laws, don’t watch any of our shows while I’m gone, if there’s any big emergencies have one of the guys call Bakugo.”

You nodded and looked up into his bright blue eyes, “You be safe, and don’t do anything stupid. Come back preferably in one piece please.”

He chuckled, “I will do my best doll.”

************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Camping: Echo’s Ending

   Intro

   “I guess I’ll sunbathe with Echo,” you decided.  He had already begun carrying his folding chair across the clearing, and he stopped to wait for you.  Omega gave you a nudge, her eyes flickering to the rest of the folding chairs before coming back to you. 

   “Go on!” she whispered.

   “Alright, I’m going,” you whispered back, though you were trying your best to hide a smile.  She was way too excited about this.  “Where are you heading?”

   “I’m going with Hunter.  See you!”

   You shook your head as she hurried away before grabbing one of the chairs and catching up with Echo.  

   He chuckled.  “What’s with her?”

   “She’s probably just excited about the trip,” you replied with a shrug.  The two of you ventured to the very center of the clearing where you’d get the most sun with no trees towering over you to block it.  As you unfolded your chair, Echo tugged off his red t-shirt.  The sight out of the corner of your eye surprised you, but you managed to keep your eyes focused on the task at hand.

   “It is so bright here,” he murmured, lifting his face toward the sky.  His eyes were closed, and his mouth was pulled up in a smile.  Your heart leaped at the look of happiness on his face at something so simple.

   He deserves to be this happy all the time, you thought.  You wished you could bring the sun’s rays aboard the ship so he could enjoy it whenever he wanted.

   Echo released a sigh and took a seat in his chair, letting his arms stretch out on the rests.  You did the same beside him.  Your eyes slid shut as you appreciated the warmth that the sun brought to your face.  However, it was already getting a little too warm.  You peeked an eye open at Echo’s shirtless form.  If he was going to be comfortable, so would you.  You pulled your shirt off and tossed the garment aside to reveal your swimsuit underneath.

   He glanced your way at the sound of movement in your chair.  “You good?”

   “Yeah, I just didn’t realize how hot it really was out here.”

   “The shade of the trees can be deceiving,” he agreed with a chuckle.  “Want some water?”  He lifted a canister toward you, and you accepted it gratefully.

   “Thank you.”  You took a few sips and handed it over, watching as he tipped it back to take a swig himself.  “It got quiet really fast.”

   Echo stole a glance at the empty camp over his shoulder, nodding.  “Probably the quietest it’s been since I joined them.  They’re a nice group and all, but sometimes...”

   You recalled the many, many times you had to endure bickering aboard the ship.  There were some interesting dynamics that came into play in a group of seven.  Not to mention, it wasn’t very difficult to get on each other’s nerves on such a small vessel.

   You and Echo both exchanged glances and laughed aloud.

   “I know what you mean.”

   “Well sure, we can laugh about it now,” he chuckled.  “But just wait, when this trip’s over, it’ll be the same thing all over again.”  

   You shook your head in amusement.  “They really do drive me crazy, but sometimes it’s not a bad thing.”

   “You know, you probably drive me crazy the least.”

   You giggled.  “Why, Echo, that’s so nice of you to say.”

   “No, really.  I like that we get along.”

   You looked over to see Echo already meeting your eyes.  Your heart accelerated under his warm gaze.  Even though he put on a grumpy demeanor at times, there was no mistaking the depth of his kindness and affection.  You saw it in the little moments when he was tender with Omega or protective over his squad, including you.  There had been many occasions where he was particularly protective of you.  It made your heartbeat quicken in your chest, yet at the same time, it made you feel so safe.

   “I guess I can say the same about you.”  You smiled.  “You drive me crazy the least too.”

   “Good to know.”  Echo leaned his head against the back of the chair, exhaling.  Both of you fell into a comfortable silence as you soaked in the sun’s rays.  Bird songs filled the air.  The quiet buzz of some sort of bug sounded nearby.  Time passed.  You were drifting in and out of a peaceful nap, mind only focusing on the brightness beyond your eyelids and the warmth it provided.

   At one point, you awoke to see that the sun had drifted behind the clouds.  The sky had gone gray, and the air was beginning to cool.  You glanced over to see Echo still fast asleep in his chair.  His face was serene as if the sunshine brought him good dreams instead of the nightmares he had on occasion aboard the Marauder.  You hated the idea of waking him, but the sky was looking grayer by the minute.

   “Looks like it might rain,” you commented softly.

   “Hm?” Echo paused, mid-snore, and blinked his eyes open.  “What was that?”

   “Sorry to wake you...It looks like it’s going to rain.”

   He seemed to wake up a little more, rubbing the back of his neck with a yawn.  “That’s alright.  We’d better take cover then.”

   “Oh no…” you muttered.  “Omega and I forgot to put the tarps up.”  But as you stood from your chair and folded it up, you looked over to see someone had put the tarps over the tents.  “Nevermind.”

   “How long were we out?” Echo asked, glancing around.  It was then that you noticed a fire had been made and put out.  A raindrop on your forehead caught your attention.  You wiped it off with the back of your hand and looked at your teammate who was also wiping a droplet from his bare shoulder.  “Looks like it’s starting.  Let’s go.”

   Both of you hurried your chairs over to the pile and ducked into the nearest of the two tents.  It was totally empty except for a few sleeping bags.  You peeked out to see Tech sitting at the doorway of the other tent.

   “The two of you slept through lunch,” he called, handing over two containers.  “I took the liberty of saving you some leftovers.”

   “Thanks, Tech,” you nodded appreciatively.  “Is everyone back?”

   “Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega are here with me.”  He gazed out across the clearing.  “Crosshair still hasn’t returned, though he commed that he was on his way.”

   “Hi, _________!” Wrecker called, pushing past Tech to wave.

   You laughed and waved back.  “Hi, Wrecker.”

   “Anyway,” Tech tried to shove his brother back inside.  “My scanners indicate the rain should last a little while.  We plan to wait it out.”

   “Sounds good.”

   With one last nod, Tech zipped the doorway shut.  You did the same, crawling back in to see Echo getting his sleeping bag out.  You set down the containers next to him.  “Tech saved us some leftovers.”

   “We really must have been out,” Echo shook his head.  “Missed lunch and everything.”

   “It was a good nap,” you said.  “Much-needed.”  You pulled your shirt back on over your bathing suit, feeling a shiver run down your spine from the disappearance of the sun.  Once Echo’s stuff was set up, he did the same.

   “Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves,” he joked.

    As if you weren’t already aware that it was just you and him in the tent.  As if you weren’t already thrilled over it.

   “Yep, until Crosshair gets back or the rain stops.”

   “Well then, let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”  He patted the spot beside him, and you smiled and took a seat.  Leaning against his shoulder, you listened as the soft tap-tap of rain on the tarp grew heavier with each second.  It was a good thing the tent was on a higher part of the clearing, or else there might be water seeping in from the ground.

   “What a day,” you said.  “First we got to enjoy the sun, and now we get to enjoy the rain.”

   He hummed in agreement.  “There’s no one else I’d rather enjoy it with.” 

   Your gaze flickered to his profile as he gazed straight ahead.

   Your palm brushed his cheek, slowly turning his face toward you and bringing it closer.  The gentle contact evoked a small gasp from him as he leaned into your touch, eyes shut.  A few seconds passed before Echo closed the distance and kissed you.  What felt like electricity hummed through you at the contact.  He drew back only for a moment to whisper your name, half-lidded eyes glowing with adoration before molding his lips to yours.  It was your turn to gasp as his hand went around your waist and pulled you against him.

   “Echo,” you murmured.

   “Hm?” he paused, lips hovering near your chin as he listened.

   “There’s no one else I’d rather enjoy it with either.”

   He pressed a kiss to your jaw and another one to your cheek.  “Good.”  There was a smile that held a rare confidence as he gazed at you with eyes glinting, almost a smug smirk, and it made your heart thump wildly in your chest.

   The sound of the tent unzipping prompted the two of you to snap your gazes to the door.  It was so sudden that neither of you scooted away or put any distance between you.  Crosshair entered the tent, scowling and muttering at the dampness of his clothes.

   “What?” he halted, eyes flickering between you.  “Did I interrupt something?”

   You and Echo exchanged looks and shrugged, neither of you knowing quite what to say to that.  You scooted back to your own sleeping bag on account of not wanting to give Crosshair another reason to be grumpy.  He and Echo started talking about the interesting change in weather, and you let your gaze wander out the tent door which hadn’t been zipped shut just yet.  You felt a warm hand take yours, and you stole a glance at Echo as he looked your way.

[seriouslysnape]

Hi i would like to request severus x reader where its their first time together and reader guides sev bc he‘s a virgin ?

Okay, so I’ve been putting this one off. It’s such a good idea, I wasn’t sure how to tackle it. However, I’ve been thinking on it for a few days, and I think I did this request justice!

__

A Fast Learner

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3,066

“Shh. It’s okay.”

__

He had become very self conscious about it over the years. Well, he was self conscious about a lot of things, but especially something like this. It was embarrassing that he had made it this far in life and had never been intimate with someone. He knew it was mainly his own fault. He had spent his life saving himself for someone who wasn’t even around anymore, and someone who never loved him the way he did her. 

Now, he was well into his adulthood years and he had yet to have sex with anyone. He had quite honestly accepted long ago that he’d never allow anyone to take his virginity. To most people, a person at his age with their so-called “v-card” still intact was odd and even a bit weird. Even if he did find someone he cared enough about, he would have NO idea what to do and it would be so off-putting that they’d likely run for the hills. Severus, as disappointed as he was, was convinced he’d live out the rest of his days as a virgin. 

That was until he fell in love with you.

He admittedly didn’t expect it. You seemed rather average to him in the beginning. He failed to see how you were any different than anybody else he had ever encountered. The more time he spent with you, though, the more he saw in you. You were probably one of the most patient and understanding people he had ever met. You were an efficient communicator and an even better listener. You were a picture perfect person. He eventually found himself in a relationship with you that exceeded having dinner and private talks in each other’s offices. 

For the first time in Severus Snape’s life, he had a steady girlfriend. 

As thrilling and exciting as that was, it also caused a whole new set of worries for him. Having a girlfriend meant that he was going to have to be fully intimate at some point. It wasn’t something he could keep putting off the way he had been. You had a gut feeling that Severus had never had sex before. At first, you brushed his hesitation off to just being nervous. However, you began to notice the way he visibly would shrink away any time your make out sessions began to heat up. If nothing else, it explained why your relationship seemed to move at an aggravatingly tortuous pace. 

He’d become fidgety when you tried to reach for his belt or when your giggles turned into breathy moans. He would simmer down the situation before it could ever evolve into more, which he hated to do. He knew you were dismayed whenever he did so. You were a beautiful, young woman who had needs. It wasn’t fair that you had to push your needs aside because of him. He definitely didn’t want you to begin to think that it had something to do with you. 

He had never told you upfront that he was a virgin, and he hoped that maybe he would never have to. Whenever he did build up the courage to make love, perhaps he could get away with not saying anything. That dream was rather short lived when you finally questioned him one night after he turned you away once more. 

You had been snuggled up next to him on the sofa in his living quarters, just chatting after a long day when your kisses became a little more heated and you ultimately ended up in his lap. Your knees were on either side of him so you were in a straddle position, kissing him with passion and desire. He kissed back as always, but you could feel the hint of uncertainty as his lips worked with yours. You kept in mind that this was usually the part where he’d stop you or get himself out of it. Still, you rolled your hips downwards into his crotch, your fingers finding his belt and beginning to unbuckle it. 

As expected, he stopped kissing you and gently gripped your wrist. That was his signal for you to stop, to which you would normally just smile reassuringly and move on. However, you pulled your hand from his grasp and rested both of them on his shoulders. 

You were intently looking at him, reading his guilt-stricken expression.

“Severus,” You began; “Is there something you want to tell me?”

He knew exactly what you meant. It was only a matter of time before you began to question him. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He said, letting the lie slip through his teeth.

You never averted your eyes from him. He wasn’t leaving until you obtained some answers. You wrapped a lock of his charcoal colored hair around your finger and twirled it mildly. 

“Most men barely wait for their girlfriend to make a move on them. With you, it seems like you don’t want me like that.” You pointed out.

Severus was quick to answer, because this was exactly the thing he didn’t want you to think.

“No, no. I do. I really do.” He said truthfully.

Make no mistake, Severus did want to have that level of intimacy with you. He just couldn’t push himself to that point. He never wanted to disappoint you in any way, and he just knew his skills were probably little to none. You were confused at his response.

“Then why do you always push me away when I try?” You queried.

He sighed heavily. It was a fair question for you to ask. He would’ve probably asked the same if he were in your shoes. It was humiliating, but he knew he couldn’t hide it any longer. He took a breath and told you that he was a virgin. He half expected you to get up and walk out or go tell every living soul you knew. Instead, you smiled kindly and let out a soft laugh that wasn’t at all intended to be a mock towards his confession. He clenched his teeth as he awaited your reply. You moved your right hand to cup the side of his face.

“Oh, Severus...is that all?” You asked sweetly.

A feeling of surprise and relief fizzled through his body. He had been waiting for a much heavier, dramatic reaction. 

“Well, I...it’s not really something I thought I’d ever tell you.” He explained, avoiding your gaze.

“You didn’t think you could keep it from me forever, did you?” You wondered. He didn’t respond, so you went on; “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I can help you.” 

He let out an irritated huff. You could tell he was beyond embarrassed.

“You shouldn’t have to.” He said.

You kissed his forehead, encouraging him to embrace the situation a little. 

“I want to. It’ll benefit more than just me. Your first time should be special. I want to make it special,” You acknowledged; “But only if you want to. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

He was at a crossroads here. He wanted to do this, but he was still nervous. There were a million ways he could go wrong and mess up, but he also never thought there’d be anyone willing to offer a hand to him as an adult virgin. He realized that he loved you too much to keep treating you this way...so he agreed. He couldn’t help but nervously chuckle at your blinding smile. You were eager to teach him. He’d be a master in no time. 

“I promise we’ll go slow.” You declared, whipping your shirt off of your head. 

Severus felt a surge of heat go through his body at your breasts that were now VERY prevalent to him. His eyes widened and his stare lingered on them like a kid in a candy store. He looked over the black, lacy material of your bra and how it perfectly accented them. His cheeks burned a fiery red that he tried to hide, but to no avail. You bit your bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“Blushing already, Professor?” You asked teasingly. 

If he was already this flustered, you couldn’t wait to see him when you got to the good stuff. His eyes snapped back to yours, he sheepishly apologized.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You hushed him, putting a finger to his lips.

“Shh. It’s okay.” 

You took his hands, bringing them around to your back. You maneuvered his fingers to unclasp your bra, and you slowly pushed the straps down your arms until it fell to the floor. His cheeks turned a darker shade of red now that you were fully exposed to him. He didn’t even try to confine his stare now. You spoke softly. 

“You can touch them if you want.” You granted.

“Touch them?” He asked.

You giggled lightly.

“Yeah, S. With your hands...or your mouth.”

He decided to go with the first option, not confident enough in his skills yet. His hands were trembling a tad, as he brought them up to your chest. He was awkward at first, sort of just fondling with them in an amateurish way. Your nipples grew hard at the feeling of his large hands on your soft skin. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he leaned forward and took one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked firmly and swirled his tongue over your breast. A satisfied gasp fell from your lips, startling him and causing him to stop.

“Are you alright? Did that hurt?” He asked frantically.

You let out another laugh.

“Sev, I was moaning.” You told him.

He shyly grinned.

“Oh.” 

He took your nipple into his mouth again, his confidence slowly but surely beginning to build. You brought a hand to the back of his head.

“Kiss my neck.” You instructed.

He nodded, moving his lips up to your neck and kissed where you guided his head to go. You grinded your hips down onto his lap, a groan falling from his throat. You could feel his growing erection through his pants. You smirked, knowing the real show was about to begin. 

“Let’s move to the bedroom.” You said, persuading him up from the sofa.

You took him by the hand, leading him to his large bed. You debated for a moment over what the best approach to this was. You thought for a minute that maybe it would be best if he stayed on the bed and you rode him, but you figured that he wouldn’t learn much out of that, however it would be pleasurable for him. You wanted his first time to be special, as you had previously mentioned. You decided to go traditional missionary, that way you could talk him through it. 

You laid on your back, laughing at the way Severus was ogling over you. You motioned for him with your finger, and he timidly climbed onto the bed. He instinctively placed one of his knees on either side of you, which was a good start. 

“Move down a little.” You requested. 

He shifted down a bit so you could unfasten his belt and his pants. He helped you get them off, throwing them aside. You did away with your skirt and panties, now fully naked in front of him. He was fully hard now, your hand palming at his evident erection. He let out a soft groan, feeling amazed at how he had never been touched by anyone else like this before. 

He sprang free once his boxers were thrown aside to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your eyes gazed at his length, raking him over. You snapped out of your trance, taking him into your hand. You stroked slowly and softly, just enough so he could see how it felt.

You knew this was going to be a tedious process for the first time, you didn’t want to completely overwhelm him and ruin it for him. He let out a stuttered sigh at the feeling of his dick in your hand. He had of course rubbed himself like this before, but it was totally different when it was being done to him. His sounds were alone enough to make your sex become slick with wetness, but you reached for one of his free hands.

“Take these two fingers,” You said, pushing his side three fingers down, just leaving his middle and ring finger. You brought his fingers to your heated sex; “Now, just gently-”

You were stunned when he began rubbing in circles, slowly but firmly. You wriggled underneath him, not prepared for him to do it so well. You let out a groan at the waves of pleasure building through you, he kept his eyes on you with a rather concerned expression. He was still afraid of hurting you or messing up. 

You stopped stroking him, taking his wrist and directing his fingers towards your clit. He knew he had hit the spot when you breathed out his name in a way he had never heard you before.

“Severus...” You exhaled.

He felt a burst of pride. Maybe he really could get the hang of this. He could feel the wetness spreading around his fingers, which is when you knew to stop him and move on with your instructions. You were beginning to realize that Severus was a fast learner. He’d have this in no time. You were a little breathless now, which swelled him with even more confidence.

“Take one of my legs and wrap it around your waist.” You said.

He took your right thigh into his hand, securing and hooking your leg around him. He noted that was how he’d be sure that you wouldn’t get too far from him. He was beginning to put pieces together.

“Okay, when you’re ready just push yourself in. Go slow at first.” You said, lining him up with your entrance. 

His tip just barely was touching you, he looked to you, stricken with a bit of panic.

“[Y/N], I don’t want to hurt you.” He said, registering that this was the part he was most scared of.

You shook your head. Half in desperation for him and half to reassure him. You put his hands on your hips so he’d be steady once he did start to move. 

“You’re not going to hurt me, Sev. I promise,” You said truthfully; “Just go at your pace. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

You knew it wouldn’t, but it made him feel better to hear you say it. He took a breath, and leisurely pushed himself in as far as he could. You both let out a synchronous moan. He didn’t move for a second, wrapping his head around how damn good this felt. You didn’t expect him to stretch and fill you the way he did, so you were a little scattered when you spoke next.

“S-Sev, pull out a little, and then go back in again.” You said.

He gingerly pulled out, and went back in. He watched each time he moved in and out. He saw the way your eyelashes fluttered each time he went back in, and how your grip on his bicep tightened. You weren’t used to such a slow speed, but you didn’t want him to go fast if he didn’t feel like he could yet. However, you did try to convince him to pick it up a little.

“A little faster. If you want.” You said, really hoping he’d get the hint. 

He did get it, and began to rock his hips faster, filling in the pauses that he had been taking between tortuous thrusts. He had figured out a rhythm now, his movements becoming monotonous, but gloriously good. He watched as your breasts bounced each time he pounded back into you, and how your mouth fell open with noises that were music to his ears. 

You knew Severus was getting the hang of it, so you gave him another request.

“Take my leg and put it on your shoulder.” 

He gave you a puzzled look, thinking that there was no way that would actually do anything. Still, he draped your leg over his shoulder and he thought he might just collapse. He was slamming into you at a new angle that was a total game changer, and created a whole new feeling of pleasure. 

He knew sex was supposed to feel good, but he never thought it would feel THIS good. It was a bit of an accident, but he rotated his hips and you let out a high-pitched shriek that even he couldn’t mistake as a bad sound. You smirked at how he was now hitting your sensitive spot each time he went back in.

“Severus, you feel so good. Holy- yes, that’s perfect.” You cried out.

He didn’t dare speed up or slow down, if he had it right, he wasn’t going to mess with it. He continued to pound into you, alerted when he felt himself twitch inside of you. He assumed that meant that something was happening. Your own inner coil was growing hot, which was a delight to you, because you honestly weren’t sure at first if you would even finish since it was his first time. You arched your back to meet his thrusts, both of your releases coming quickly.

“Darling, I think I’m about to-” He was cut off by another one of your moans.

He felt the muscles in your leg contract, as you came around him. He thrusted a few more times before he did as well. A flash flood crashed over every nerve in his body. Your arms rested above your head as your chest heaved with each inhale. He slid out of you, falling next to you on the mattress. His head was spinning.

He had just lost his virginity. Something he had kept so private and locked away. He thought that maybe he’d be a little sad, but he wasn’t. He was beyond joyed to have lost it to someone he cared about so much. He leaned over, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe.

“How...how was that?” He asked, a little apprehensive to hear your answer.

You looked over at him, a flashy smile and a voice full of honesty.

“Severus Snape,” You said; “You are one fast learner.”

[etherealdizzle]

DBD Danny x Frank x Male Reader

I have a request, Frank and Danny(Ghostface) are soulmates, but they recently found out that a male survivor reader(that is new to the entity’s realm) is also their soulmate.

Trigger Warnings: Violence

When you’re born, the mark on your wrist appears. It slowly fades into existence. Once you’re ten, the mark is clear. It’s a pair of initials. Different for everyone. Some people have one, some get two, and very few get nothing. What are the initials for, exactly? Simple.

Your soulmate.

Those who are born with a mark search their whole lives for the person they are meant to be with. Often, they travel all across the world, searching. Some get to meet them. They get to love and to be loved with the other half of their soul. Nearly everyone gets initials. But not everyone gets to meet their soulmate.

Frank Morrison figured that would be his fate. He was stuck in a shitty town with the same group of people. He’d been moved from adoption home to adoption home, never staying in a new place for long. He hadn’t met his soulmate. So, he figured it was time to move. That was until he met a girl named Julie.

Their friendship bloomed into a series of theft, violence, and eventually murder. The group now found themselves in the Fog, a new realm away from the real world. While some accepted their new fates, others were dissatisfied. The marks on their wrists stayed, reminding them of a lost love they would never find.

Frank had two marks. Two initials. Two people he would never get to see. Two people who he would never get the chance to love. He was angry. He kept his marks covered, hoping to forget about them and begin his new life. The life that took his soulmates away from him.

But others didn’t stop searching. Danny Johnson believed the Entity was on his head. He knew it would bring his soulmates to him. He was right. For one of them, at least.

“Danny Johnson,” He introduced himself to the man standing before him. The man’s eyes widened, jaw opening slightly in shock. “...What?”

Frank scrambled, nearly tearing the fabric as he tried to take a look at his wrist. D.J. But maybe it was a fluke, like so many times before. Initials were unique, of course. Frank reached forward and grabbed Danny’s hands. Danny pulled back, but stopped his effort once he saw what the man was trying to do. And Frank saw it. In black text read ‘F.M.’

Frank slowly looked up, eyes still wide, and let out a shaky breath. “It’s you…”

✯ ✯ ✯

It was hard at first. Danny was clingy, and Frank was still processing. But now, they two were in love and they couldn’t be happier. Danny was definitely the more affectionate of the two, but that didn’t mean Frank didn’t care for him. He just showed it in a different way. Less touchy and more words. Danny didn’t mind. As long as Frank was happy, he was happy.

But both of them felt like something was off. Sometimes, the initials burned. Danny didn’t mind as much, just pulled his costume over his wrist and pretended it wasn’t there. But Frank would sit and stare at it. Two letters. An initial. A person. Someone was out there, alone. Were they searching, too? Danny trusted in the Entity to bring the missing link to them. Frank wanted to believe. All he could do was ask.

He asked, and the Entity listened.

✯ ✯ ✯

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty pleaseeee?”

“No.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Why not!?”

Frank crossed his arms and looked to his lover. “Because I don’t even think they exist here!”

Danny huffed, upset. “Maybe we could ask the Entity…?”

“I doubt the Entity would give you a cat.”

“If I asked nicely!”

“No.”

Danny heard the ringing bells in his ears. He sighed, deciding to move the conversation to another time. If Frank had anything to do with it, the conversation would never come up again. The ringing came again and Danny winced, the loudness of the bell something he would never get used to.

“You gotta go?” Frank asked, uncrossing his arms. Danny nodded, and Frank stepped closer to his partner. “Have fun,” He grinned, kissing Danny gently.

“Always do, boss,” Danny winked, waving goodbye as the Entity took him into a trial.

It was Autohaven Wreckers. Ghostface liked it, it had lots of cover for him to hide with. But he also hated it because it was open as well. He just had to figure out where to go. He crouched, moving and making his way until he heard a noise. A voice. He didn’t recognize it. Using the tires as cover, he leaned to see who it was.

“I don’t even know how to repair this,” It was a man. He talked to himself, standing over a generator. He began to connect wires, but the generator exploded. He sighed, trying again. He wasn’t someone Danny knew. He was new! Ghostface had a different way of greeting new survivors to this world.

Danny ran at him, jumping on him. The man landed on his back with a thud, grunting as the air escaped his lungs. “What the fuck!?” The man yelped, trying to push Ghostface off. But it was no use. Ghostface had his legs on either side of the men and pinned his arms down, holding them above his head. He was stuck. The man struggled for a moment, but realized there was no use. He gave up, looking angrily at the killer above him.

Ghostface chuckled. He liked seeing their reactions to his unusual greeting. Danny studied the man. He was well-built, with a face Danny could only describe as handsome. And attractive. And beautiful. Okay, he had a few ways to describe him. Danny flipped his arms so he could see the initials. Actually, it was a pair of them. The first read, ‘F.M.’ … Wait. What? Danny shook his head, thinking of it merely as a coincidence. He read the other one. ‘D.J.’ …

Yes!

The Entity had listened! It brought him the last piece of his soul! And what a beautiful piece he was. Ghostface released his tight grip of the man’s arms, and the man began to rub the sore spots. Danny grabbed his own mask and pushed it off his head, smiling at the man before him. “Tell me - Am I better or worse than you were expecting?”

The man looked to him with confusion. “What are you talking about…?” And once Danny revealed his markings to the man, he understood. “O-oh… well… fuck…” The man said, unsure what to say.

Danny grinned. “I’m your soulmate! Oh! We can go on dates together! Go on strolls, you can watch me kill your friends! It’ll be great!”

The man was still processing. “You’re… my soulmate?”

Danny simply nodded.

“And what about-”

“Frank Morrison! You’ll love him, he’s great!” Danny got off of the man, putting his hand out. He grabbed it, and Danny helped pull him up. The man was shaking, and Danny felt responsible for helping him out. He slung an arm over the man’s shoulder and winked. “Don’t worry, now that you’re my soulmate, I won’t hurt you.”

“And the others?”

“I can’t promise anything.”

✯ ✯ ✯

There was no way for Ghostface to show Frank to the man. All he could do was give him a description of Frank and hoped he could figure it out. Danny kissed him on the cheek, perhaps a little too eager, and pushed him down the hatch. And thus began the search.

He hadn’t found him yet. He saw a pig, a cannibal, twins, a plague… He was starting to give up hope. But then, he found him. At least, he thought it was him. Matched what Danny had told him.

Frank spotted him. The man was hesitant to walk towards him, scared it wasn’t him. But Frank broke the distance between them. He pulled his mask off, smiling gently at the man before him. “Danny told me. I can’t…”

“Can’t believe it either, huh?” The man laughed. “Never thought I’d find my soulmates here, of all places. Was hoping for a little more romantic qualities.”

“It’s as romantic as we make it,” Frank flirted. “Speaking of, wouldn’t it be better with just us two?” Frank slipped his mask on. “Wait here.”

The man waited, slipping into cover every once in a while when he saw his teammates. They’d probably figured he’d died already. To be quite frank, he sucked at looping. Wasn’t good at it yet. Perhaps Danny and Frank could help him.

“There,” Frank tossed his mask off, grinning at the man. “Isn’t that better?”

The man nodded, unsure what to say. “So… we’re soulmates, right?”

“With Danny,” Frank agreed, stepping closer to the man.

He hesitated, freezing up. His heart was pounding. “S-Sorry… just…”

“I get it,” Frank reassured. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. Testing. Once he saw he was allowed, he moved it down, gripping his waist. “It’s not like how you imagined it. Me neither. But you know what?” His other hand found the man’s waist. The man felt his heart slow. “At least we found each other. Some don’t get that much.”

The man nodded, putting his hands on either side of Frank’s upper arms. “I’m happy to have found you, Frank.”

“I’m the lucky one.” Frank leaned forward, closing the distance. He pressed their lips together and was happy once the man kissed him back. He meant it, too. He was lucky. Hell, he didn’t deserve this. He would never take it for granted.

✯ ✯ ✯

Danny met him with enthusiasm. “Frank told me you kissed him!” Danny practically tore his mask off. He pulled off the best puppy dog look he could.

The man chuckled. “It’s your turn, then, right?”

Danny agreed, practically jumping on the man as he smashed their lips together. It was sweet and rough at the same time, but it felt so good.

The man knew he had his hands full with these two.

[wiypt-writes]

Sunny Side Up

Summary: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? And for Mike, there’s no better way to start it than by eating his favourite thing, ever.

Pairing: Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Brief mentions of drug addiction- nothing graphic. Language!

A/N: So this was what popped into my head after seeing @imanuglywombat​ post that damned latest Sex Position as part of her downright filthy and wonderful “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “The Special Breakfast”. See here for more information. And you can totally blame @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for this one. I wasn’t gonna write it but…yeah, I did. Sorry not sorry.  I’ve tried to make the reader as non-descript and as inclusive as I can but I don’t usually do reader x fics so I apologise if it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader.  By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Main Masterlist

********

“No, that’s not the same, at all.” Mike’s voice drifted up the hallway of you house as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the bitter January wind that has descended over Dover. “Yeah, well they signed up to the terms so....”

You glanced at your watch, it wasn’t even seven-AM yet and he was already on to someone about the current case he was working. But then, that was Mike all over. An addict, only now you were glad to say the only thing flooding his system was adrenaline and passion for his work.

You hung your jacket up on the pegs by the door, unwrapped your woollen scarf from round your neck and placed that over the hook above your jacket and then reached down to unzip you boots, before toeing them off. Your sock clad feet padded down the wooden floor of the hall towards the kitchen and you walked in to see Mike was bent over a file on the island in the middle, already dressed for the office.

“Clause ninety-one, paragraph twenty, sub-bullet two. Yup. We’ll present that to them today, give them chance to respond.” He paused for a moment, his head turning to you, a warm smile spreading across his face as you leaned over for a quick peck before you headed to the fridge for a soda. “Yeah. Okay, no problem, see you about half eight.”

With that he placed the cordless phone down and turned to face you.

“Morning, Baby.” He grinned, before he nodded to the Diet Coke in your hand. “Interesting choice of drink for breakfast.”

“Technically it’s not my breakfast time.” You shrugged back. “More like dinner, I suppose.”

Mike chuckled as he crossed to space towards you, his hands falling to your hips before he bent down and brushed his lips against yours in a hardly there kiss. “Good shift?”

“A heart attack, car accident, two broken legs, couple of flu cases and a shit tonne of idiotic drunks, the finest Delaware has to offer.” You shrugged. “Usual shit.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dr Y/L/N”

“Lucky for you I do, or we’d have never met.”

“And I’d be dead.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, swallowing a little. The memory of that night almost eighteen months ago was still raw. If you hadn’t stopped by at Mike’s that evening following an argument the pair of you had earlier in the day, you’d never have found him almost dead from an overdose. It had been a long road to recovery, and whilst nothing was ever proven, Mike and Paul were convinced that it was something to do with the safety needle case they had been working. Despite the fact that there was enough heroin in his system to stop his heart, Mike swore blind to you he hadn’t taken anything but a few lines that night, and there was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. And so did Paul.

The authorities never managed to prove anything, but there was one good thing to come out of it. When you had broken down and told Mike how scared you’d been that he was going to die and that you couldn’t cope anymore with the constant fear that one day he would kill himself for real, it gave Mike the final kick he needed because he didn’t want to lose you.

So he got clean. And this time he did it for good.

It wasn’t easy, for either of you. Once he was medically fit enough, Mike had been placed on a programme at a Rehab Centre, whereby he saw no one bar trained medical specialists and councillors for six weeks. It felt like the longest six weeks of your life but he did it. And when you went to pick him up, you instantly burst into tears at how different he looked, how better he looked, how healthy he looked.

The road to recovery is a long one, paved with temptations, you knew that being a Doctor. And whilst Mike knew and understood his triggers thanks to his programme, those temptations met him everywhere, especially because he knew exactly where and how to get his fix. So the pair of you agreed to take a fresh start. You traded Texas for Delaware, the State you were originally from, and you were beyond proud to be able to honestly state that Mike Weiss had been clean now for eighteen months. Well, apart from alcohol that is. But even that was enjoyed in moderation, and to be honest, you’d rather him sit at home with a glass or two of bourbon each night that sticking fuck knows what into his veins.

You cocked your head to one side as his hands flexed on your hip and he gave you a little side smile. “Sorry. Oh, hey guess who I got a call from?”

“Who?” You asked as he stepped back, grinning.

“The Alligator Farm. Snappy’s got himself a lady friend. They’re gonna send me some photos and stuff.”

You smiled, giving up that beloved alligator had been a hard sell to Mike. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Oh and Paul was thinking of coming over with the family in the spring. I said they could stay here, I know it’ll be a squeeze but is that okay?”

“Course it is.” You reached up to cup his cheek. “It’ll be lovely to see them again.”

Mike smiled and dropped another kiss to your lips, this one slightly stronger before you pat his chest as he rest his forehead against yours.

“I need to go shower.”

“Want me to come join you?” He asked, eyebrow raised and you smiled.

“As good as that sounds there’s something else I want more.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the buttons on your blouse and you laughed.

“Calm down, Stud. I want pancakes and bacon, I don’t give a shit what time it’s supposed to be for me.”

Mike groaned as you moved away from where you’d been stood with your back to the large, stainless steel fridge and headed out of the room. He watched you go, the gently sway of your hips in your well fitted black pants made his groin twitch. He was half tempted to fuck your demands and go and jump you in the shower whether you wanted him to or not, but he’d seen the flicker your face had given when you’d described how your twelve-hour shift had gone down. Despite your blasé tone, he knew you too well and understood exactly how tired and stressed you were feeling. So, instead, he turned his attention to making breakfast.

Something he prided himself on was his cooking ability. He’d picked it up pretty fast since you’d moved here, he found it was a welcome distraction, so much so you very rarely made meals now, bar when you insisted on doing a roast which he never argued against.  Within fifteen minutes he had a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs- sunny side up, as you preferred- all laid out on the island and ready for you to help yourself to. He’d just poured you an orange juice when you walked back into the kitchen, hair piled on your head in a messy bun, wrapped in a dressing gown and he was pleased to see you looked relaxed.

“Oh, Mikey, this looks great!” You smiled as he wrapped an arm round you, kissing your head. He watched as you helped yourself to a huge plateful before making your way over to the table and sitting down with a sigh. Mike tucked his tie into his shirt to avoid it dropping into his food and plated himself a helping up before he sat down at the place next to you, cracking his neck slightly. The pair of you chatted about the day ahead, which for you consisted of sleeping until it was time to get up for your next shift, Mike’s contained a meeting with a company who he was currently in the process of negotiating a settlement with on behalf of a client. When you’d finished, Mike made to clear away the dishes but you gently placed your hand on his arm and stood up, insisting on doing it as he’d cooked.

When you returned to the table, Mike pushed his chair back slightly and patted his knee.

“Come ‘ere.” He smiled softly and you grinned, settling yourself on his lap sideways, your arm looping round his shoulder, fingers gently playing with his suspenders. He gave a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your head, happy to simply be close to you for a moment.

“You doing okay?” You asked and he smiled, your words carrying that hidden meaning- ‘Do you want a fix, today?’

“I’m good, Babes.” He pulled back to look at you. “I promise.”

Smiling you gently placed your lips on his in a soft kiss, which soon became heated as Mike’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He was pleased when you reciprocated, opening your mouth slightly to allow him in. He could taste the sweetness of the syrup on you from your pancakes and, as your tongue gently swirled against his, he let out a little groan from the back of his throat and he felt you smile.

“How long till you have to be in the office?” Your voice was lower than you’d intended, betraying exactly what you had in mind and Mike grinned at you, pulling back a little, as he glanced up at the clock.

“Just over forty-five minutes, why?”

You bit your lip, fingers toying once more with his suspenders which were clipped to the waistband of his light, grey trousers and sat over a maroon shirt, set off with a black tie. “Do I gotta spell it out to you, Weiss?”

“No, I just like hearing you beg.” A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes and you gave a snort.

“I do not beg.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow and in a swift moment he stood up, causing you to give a shriek of a giggle as he sat you on the table in front of him. “I bet,” he pushed on your shoulders causing you to rest your weight on your elbows as he loomed over you, gently reaching for the tie on your robe, “that I can have you singing my name and begging for more,” his hands made quick work of the knot and pulled it open, before his fingers slid up the front, opening it to leave you bare in front of him, “in less than five minutes flat.”

“Less than five minutes?” You looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust and you smirked. “You’re so full of shit.”

He wasn’t though, you knew full well that you were the one full of shit. Mike had on many an occasion had you crying his name in less time than it took you to sing a verse of the National Anthem, and he knew it as the cocky expression on his face showed.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He chuckled, bending over, his mouth brushing against that spot on your neck, the bristles of his short beard scratching your skin. “Have you learnt nothing, yet?”

“Only that you’re a cocky little bastard.” You tried to keep your voice level but it didn’t work. Your words came out a shaky whisper as one of his hands gently splayed on your stomach and brushed up your body to your sternum as he peppered hot, opened mouthed kisses across your collar bone, before his lips ghosted up your neck, over your chin and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss as his hand palmed at your breast. As he rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb you gave a moan and he smirked against your mouth.

Suddenly, he was gone from over you and you frowned, missing his sudden presence and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see him settling back in the chair by the table.

“Mike, what the-“

You were cut off as he reached over, grabbing your ass and hoisting your pelvis up, pulling you towards him. Before you could register what was going on, your legs were over his shoulders and you just caught a glimpse of his face, as he quirked an eyebrow at you, lips curled upwards in that maddeningly smug bastard grin, before his mouth was trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Jesus.” You let out a little groan as he neared the place you now desperately wanted him and he chuckled.

“No, just me.”

“Fuck off you-“ But whatever it was you were going to call him flew from your mind as his tongue licked up your sex, and grazed against your clit, teasing it with quick, hardly there flicks which, you were ashamed to say, had you riled up something feral. His hands palmed at your ass, his fingers curling round the outside of your thighs as he quickened his movements, his mouth expertly devouring you, tongue flicking into your entrance as his lips circled that sensitive nub, giving a suck that made you cry out, your back arching off the table, pushing yourself further onto his face.

Mike let out a chuckle which vibrated exquisitely against you and you gasped again, your hands slapping onto the cool surface of the table, fingernails feeling the grain of the wood as he upped his efforts dramatically, lips and tongue teasing you in a way that was so delectable it was teetering along that fine line between pain and pleasure. His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, despite the breakfast the pair of you had eaten moments ago.

“Fuck, Mike, I need…” Your voice was croaky, the words sounded far off as they bounced around your lust addled brain and once again he chuckled.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah you arrogant sh-oooh fuck!” You cried as he gently nipped your clit. “Shit!”

You were willing yourself to remain grounded, wanting to prove him wrong but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight the urge you felt to ride over the edge which was building like a fire inside you. When his mouth was over you completely once more, tongue deep, you felt him move one of his hands and his thumb pressed against your clit, before the pressure eased off and his tongue slipped away.

"Okay, okay you win, Mike, please for the love of God!” You groaned and with a final, maddeningly smug chuckle he dove back in, only this time when you felt your orgasm brewing he didn’t stop. One of your hands flew to his hair, pulling lightly on his soft, spiky strands and he gave a growl as you tugged, his efforts doubling once more as his beard scratched against your sensitive pussy and inner thighs. The coil in your belly was tightening, your entire body quivered and with a final flick of his tongue you gave a cry as your orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled into his back just below his shoulders, your own back arched as your walls clamped down over nothing, the room fading out as everything went silent and the lights erupted in front of your eyes, your entire body feeling like you were floating.

Mike grinned, guiding you through your release before he stood up, pulling you further to the end of the table as he undid the flies on his trousers, freeing his painfully hard erection. The swollen head of his dick gently swirled around your folds before he buried himself inside you, groaning as he felt you fluttering around him in the after throes of your orgasm. You let out a low groan and finally opened your eyes, looking up at him as he pounded into you, fully clothed, those fucking suspenders that drove you wild still looped over his shoulders.  

He slid one, large hand under your back and pulled you up causing you to cry out as he drove deeper into you, his hand on the base of your back pulling you up and towards him as he dipped his head to give you a dirty, sloppy kiss whilst he rolled and thrust into you. Then His lips moved down, nipping at your neck, his breath hot on your ear as your head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

“God, I love seeing you like this, fucking wrecked all because of me.” His panted words made you groan even more as the heat in your groin was beginning to mount again. “Makes me higher than any fucking drug ever could.”

His thrusts continued, hard, deep, and you felt his dick throbbing inside you as he drove up against your spot, his lips back on yours as he kissed you hard, swallowing the pants and whimpers you were making as you began to teeter on that cliff edge again. With a deep roll of his hips you let out a low wail and came, once more, your core spasmed around him as your entire body tingled, and that was enough for him to follow you. With a powerful thrust he stiffened, a low grunt stuttering from his lips as he pulsed inside of you, his hips growing sloppy before they stopped completely. His chest heaving, he pressed his forehead to yours, the pair of you gasping for breath as you came down from your high.

“Shit, Mike.” You managed to stutter as he grinned, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. “That was…”

“Yeah, I was pretty good.” He chuckled and you slapped his arm as he moved and pulled out of you. You straightened your robe and stood up, wincing as you felt his release trickled down your inner thigh.

“I need another shower.” You grumbled, before you glanced at his crotch, the damp patch where he’d pressed against you was clear as day. “And you should probably change your trousers.”

Mike glanced down before his eyes met you, and he shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go into the office like this and then every time I see it I’ll be reminded exactly what a damned good breakfast I had this morning.”

You blinked before you shook your head, scoffing. “You’re gross.”

He laughed. “You love it, Sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You corrected, your hands sliding up over his shoulders and he smiled, a pure, innocent smile that made him look like a schoolboy before he took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pulling away, his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too.” He whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now go, before I decide to play hooky for the day.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Weiss.” You smirked, before with one final quick peck you left the room.

Mike watched you go, before he ran his hands through his hair and turned to glance around the kitchen, his eyes falling to the table he’d just fucked you senseless on.

He should probably clean that before he went to work…

[shurisneakers]

shut in [10]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting, abuse

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: double digit chapter!!! like 3 parts to go everyoneeee woo!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The nostalgia was strong. 

The last time you and Sam were sitting like this, you were deciding on what to make of the bread supply that was now dwindling. The soup had ran out maybe a day or two ago and you were left with just bread, peanut butter and jelly.

You two had to devise an escape plan. You’d been there long enough and now with Sam making his first public appearance as Mob’s Most Wanted, even if it was for a good cause, there was no doubt that people would be after you.

“What if we go back to Ransone and let the rest sort itself out along the way?”

You made a note of it on the paper but you weren’t very convinced with the idea, not with the realisations you had made along the way.

“Do we know any other hideouts?” you asked instead, tapping the pencil against the paper.

“None that you don’t already know.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts on caves? Think we can make a bed outta some leaves?”

You wrote down ‘Sam’s cave idea’, just to humour him. Stupid, but more plausible than other options.

“If we make a run for it, what are the chances we’ll survive?”

“With law enforcement, civilians and gang members looking for us, I’d give us about-” you said candidly, “-two months. Three max.”

It wasn’t like you had no experience running from the state, but it was never on this scale. 

“We’d have years if it was only law enforcement, but we had to go get the entire fuckin’ mafia involved,” he huffed in annoyance.

An idea occurred to you that made you pause, but you hated it.

“What if we split up?” you suggested halfheartedly. “It’ll take them more time to find the both of us, if they’re looking for us together.”

When he didn’t reply, you looked up at him from the sheet in front of you.

“We’re not splitting up,” he began steadily, just as you knew he would. “The same people who are after you are after me. We need to stick together.”

“I know. I’m not saying we can’t meet again after that, I’m saying that maybe it’ll be easier for us to hide.”

He couldn’t deny that it wasn't the worst idea, but something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, then how do we find each other after that? When? I don’t have your email; fuck that, I don’t even have your number.”

“We’ll schedule it, I guess,” you murmur, trying to work out the logistics. “Whoever gets there late has to buy ice cream. And I’m particular about the flavour I like.”

You tried to lighten up the mood but he wasn’t having it, as much as he appreciated it.

“I don’t care if it’s more difficult,” he said slowly. “But I’d like us to stick together. Not until we’re out of this mess. Then if you want to never see my face again, which you shouldn’t because it’s beautiful, we’ll go our different ways.”

He was adamant about it, and you knew he’d argue and poke holes into the plan until it didn’t make sense anymore. You weren’t going to argue.

“Okay,” you accepted. “We stick together.”

A smile spread across his face which equated to one of triumph. “You got any other ideas?” 

“We stay right here and fight off whoever comes.”

It was dumb. This place wasn’t yours, and staying here would be a death wish. That didn’t stop you from saying it since neither of you were holding back on implausible ideas.

“This is our house now,” Sam added with determination, playing along.

“Damn right,” you affirmed, cracking a smile at him.

Bringing your attention back, you stared at the list. There is one option you wanted to explore but you weren’t sure if you could because you didn’t have the resources. But he may.

“You got any friends whose help we could use?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how this would play out. 

He continued chewing on his lip for a second like he was analysing all options, before nodding. 

“I got a friend. Well, my only friend,” he corrects himself. “His name’s Riley.”

“He got a place we can stay, this Riley?”

“He does. But I don’t want to involve him. He’s-” he paused, trying to find the right words to frame what he’s thinking “-he’s been through a lot.”

“We’ll leave him alone then,” you assured, realising that it must be a touchy topic for him.

Sam didn’t move on, though. 

“I’m all ears if you want to talk,” you offered. 

He pressed his lips together, giving you a tight smile. He looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back. You reciprocated, hoping it would give him some reassurance, noting how he exhaled softly.

“When I joined the cartel, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to since everyone was much older than I was. Riley was the first friend I made. He was a mouthy li’l one.” Sam smiled wistfully and you found yourself smiling with him. “He talked so much shit and he had the spunk to back it up but he never really got that far because no one wanted to test their luck with him.”

“We spent whatever free time we had together. He didn’t have a family so he and I-” he trailed off but you knew what he was getting at. “Ransone found out. Didn’t like anyone in his stupid squad becoming all buddies because if we turned against him, he knew he’d lose.”

Shared experience. You didn’t have any friends in the organization either; they were always separated from you willingly or by force. You wondered if that’s why you had taken such a liking towards Sam, knowing fully well that it was the first time in years you were able to be friends with someone without having to worry.

“He started pittin’ us against one another. Combat training, preferential treatment, just plain out sabotage. Riley’s the reason my back’s all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a short laugh. “Tried everything he could to make sure we’d stay away or even kill each other if it came to that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t,” he confirmed. “Ransone fuckin’ hated it, so one day, he decided that he’s going to finish it once and for all. Sent us on a fake mission so that we’d be alone together, then told us that only one of us could come back. One of us had to die or else both of us would. Some sick fuckin’ form of entertainment.”

It was exactly something that Ransone would do. Dramatic, vile and utterly despicable, just for his own joy,

Your eyebrows knit together when his eyes glazed over. 

“Riley, he- he didn’t even let me have at the gun. Just straight up chose for the both of us that he was going to be the one who died. He was so tired, of everythin’.” The muscles in your jaw tightened at where this was going. “He didn’t do it though. We figured out another way.”

You didn’t realise how tensed you were until you forced yourself to relax.

“Faked his death.” He shrugged. “It was the only way. Let Ransone believe he bled out and that I buried him behind the warehouse he sent us to. Shot him in the leg to make it look convincing. He’s still got a limp.”

“He made a run for it. Found himself a place in New Orleans, changed his identity, basically made turned into a whole new person. Ransone bought it for a while because I’d make it a point to visit the grave, leave some flowers and shit. Told him that if he messed with it that I’d put a bullet in his head and I was angry enough for him to see that I wasn’t kidding. I knew he’d figure it out eventually but I was hoping I’d get rid of him by then.”

“He lived in New Orleans for years. Never had a problem until recently.”

Sam paused for a second, but it gave you the time to pull up an old conversation you had with him.

“He’s the one Ransone threatened you with,” you connected the dots. “He’s the one he found.”

“Said he’d kill him if I didn’t take out Pierce for him,” his words were bitter, confirming what you said. “Sent me a picture of him in front of his house to prove it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed, leaning back. Sam’s situation was more dangerous than you initially thought. Having Riley in the picture just made it more difficult to help Sam get out of the organization, especially since he was now leverage material.

“You asked me once what the scariest thing I had done was.” You didn’t get immediately what he was talking about until you remember the questions you had asked to get to know him better. “It was that. Getting him out of this life and trying not to get caught in the process.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“He’s the only family I got left.” The way his voice dropped made him sound so tired. “He’s already on their radar. If they find out I’m staying with him or that he’s helping in any way, they’ll kill him.”

You didn’t say anything, not like you had anything constructive to offer at that moment.

“That got dark real quick,” he remarked, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

Clearly he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. To explain the entire thing from the beginning must have drained him completely.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you said quietly.

He paused for a second, looking like he was thinking to himself.

“Me too.”

______

The sky’s beautiful, you decide.

You could stare at the clouds for hours.

Which is what the both of you have been doing.

“If you fucking say it’s anything other than a dog, I’ll push you off the roof myself.”

“It’s clearly a penguin, Samuel.”

“I hate you.”

The cement was cool against your skin even though there was a blanket serving as a mediator between you and it. The sun nipped at your skin and your back was aching from staying in the same place for a prolonged period.

Sam tended to think better when he was outside, unconstrained by harsh white walls and artificial light. So you grabbed a spare blanket, a bottle of water and the ladder to haul the both of you to the roof. It was filthy, as you expected but you managed to tidy a part of it to the best of your ability before laying the blanket down.

“I know why you brought me up here, Y/N,” he piped up.

You just knew that when you needed some space, he often implored you to go outside. You figured the best way to help him was to do the same, not knowing what else you could have to give.

“Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it,” he added.

Okay good. It helped.

“That’s a tree.” You pointed upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“You get three more seconds to change that answer to a table.”

“That looks nothing like a table. You’re delusional.”

He laughed, not offering a counter argument.

The outside did him good. He was calmer than when you first came here a few hours ago. He didn’t let his spite towards Ransone show very often, especially at this volume. Talking about Riley only reaffirmed how much he despised the man.

“We need to get out of here eventually, you know?” you mused.

You don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that saying it out loud made it worse.

“We do,” he sounded sure and you wondered if he ever felt bad about it too, “but we need a proper plan.”

The clouds shifted. It looked like a kid on a bike; not that you’d ever tell him. He would never agree.

“We need help,” you stated.

“We can’t.” You knew he’d say that.

“You know we do, Sam.”

“There’s no one out there we can trust.”

You liked that he used ‘we’. The only other times you had been referred to as ‘we’ had been for things so sinister, so violent.

His elbow was touching yours lightly. You wanted to move closer, press against him.

“There’s one person who might be able to.”

He turned to look at you questioningly. You did the same.

You waited till he figured it out on his own. His face shifted the minute it clicked in his head.

“No way.” He turned away, almost laughing out of bewilderment.

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another one,” he began to sound more insistent, realising you were being serious. It was a crazy idea, you’d give him that, but it’s the only one you had that had a sure shot of working.

“We’ve tried. You’ve tried. There’s only one way,” you knew that getting annoyed wouldn’t get through to him and you also understood his hesitations. “He’ll help.”

“We don’t know that. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.” He couldn’t afford that; not this late in the game.

“I know it. Lis- Sam. Look at me,” you commanded gently, and he obeyed reluctantly. “I understand that this is absolutely batshit wild, but I promised I’d help you. This is the only way I can think of. But I need you to trust me.”

He looked unsettled.

He didn’t have anything to go on. Only your word and his faith in you. He could say no and he knew you’d spend countless hours pouring over multiple options just to find another way. He could say no and you’d take it in stride and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t about trusting you, it was about not trusting the others.

But he could also say yes and let you take control, trust your instincts. You had never let him down before and he knew you wouldn’t now. He could say yes and help you work on one solid plan that had equal chances of failing as it did being a success, but it was something that you could be sure of.

“I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

He felt your fingers trace at his face patiently. He scooted closer, letting your bodies press gently against each other.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

He didn’t know if he made the right choice or not, but the smile that appeared on your face made him think that maybe he did.

God, he was done for.

___

“You ready?” you asked him.

“No, but what the hell; let’s do it.”

You let it ring right to the very end.

“Hello.” It seemed gratuitous at this point because you knew the conversation wouldn’t proceed with that.

“Code?”

“1993.”

“Y/N. Hello,” his voice came back loud and clear.

“Hey.” You snuck a glance at Sam. He was completely stiff.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been… good,” you admitted.

“Oh?” he sounded amused. “That’s a change.”

“Yeah.” You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Listen, I need help.”

“Help with?”

“We need to get out of here. We can’t do it without you. I mean we can, but it’d be better if you lent a hand.”

“When you say ‘we’, you’re referring to…”

“Me.” Sam stepped forward towards the phone. You shifted it so it was between you.

“Oh, hello,” he sounded surprised, and he had good reason to be. “You know about-”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Y/N, you trust him?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at Sam, “I do.”

“Alright. If shit goes wrong, you’re both fucked. I’m not taking any responsibility.”

“We get that,” you sighed. “Can you help or not?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end as he thought.

“Tell me what you had in mind.”

“We got a hit.”

They turned away from their conversation with the person walking beside them at the interruption.

“This better be important.” They gestured to their companion who looked annoyed at being interrupted. He was too dangerous to have on anyone’s bad side but the agent didn’t care. This was crucial.

“Someone saw him. Wilson.” He was breathless from the flight of stairs he had run to come upstairs.

“Where?” They could hardly believe their ears, restraining to contain the excitement that was threatening to rise.

“A town, miles away from Pierce’s place. Said he roamed around looking for a store, bought some food and then left.” His eyes shone. “We think we might know where they are. A rough sketch at least. Couldn’t follow him too far because he kept checking.”

“Finally,” their face gleamed, completely discarding the guest they had and the confusion on his face. “Some good fucking news.”

“Do you want us to put a hit out on them?” The relief the agent felt was almost overwhelming. His partner may have died but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“No,” they said crisply, certainly. “This one’s on me.”

Next part

[mrwinterr]

Kissletoe

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You’re not a fan of mistletoes. You think it’s an outdated Holiday tradition and an excuse for lovesick fools to steal a kiss. Unlucky for you, college parties are riddled with them this year and someone’s been trying to meet you under one all night.

Warnings: College shenanigans (no one cares in the real world). Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, oral [female receiving], handjob & attempted dirty talk/goofy sex?). Language. Mentions of drugs and alcohol. & bad Christmas pickup lines.

Title Inspiration: “Kissletoe” by 3OH!3

A/N: I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe let alone attended a legit college party because I’ve been lame my whole life. 🔔 ‘Tis that season! 🎄 Happy Holidays, ya filthy, lovely readers! 🙋🏻‍♀️ Raise your hand if you’re on the naughty list this year! ❤️ Enjoy!

It’s the end of the college fall semester and for the majority of students, the only way to celebrate surviving finals week is to let loose and party, especially right before you’re all forced to go back home to visit family for the Holidays.

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” You hear your friend and roommate Natasha ask.

You stop stuffing your belongings in a box and pause at her question to look down at your current attire - black leggings paired off with an oversized University college-style sweatshirt. You had your hair pulled up in a messy bun, your face clear of any make-up, and lastly your feet were clad in funky, fuzzy socks. This is what you normally wore inside the dorm around her, and you certainly didn’t need to dress to impress just to go home. What was she on about?

“Uh, home? Where else would I be going at the end of the semester?” You reply, an obvious answer.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she retorts, and is quick to follow up when she sees the knowing look on your face and mouth open to retaliate with an even sassy response, “and don’t even start!”

She knew you’d say something like you were exactly that, smart. You in fact had amazing grades and excelled in every course you’d enrolled in. You were confident that you’d aced your exams, so you’re not checking the portal every chance you could get to see if the professor had uploaded your grades yet.

“You’re not supposed to be leaving until Monday,” she reminded you.

“I know, but I mean, there’s no rule saying I had to stay here until then,” you clarify, continuing to pack up more of your things, “I’d rather much get a head start.”

“You’re that eager to get away from me, huh?” She says, feigning sadness.

“You’re the only thing I’m going to miss about college,” you assure her.

College was a different experience for everyone. It was an introduction to the real world. Some used it to start anew, to buckle down and make something of themselves, others used it as an extension to repeat four more years of high school.

You took your studies very seriously, especially if you wanted to maintain your scholarship. It was a known fact college wasn’t cheap and you were fortunate to be here on one. With all that aside, you still knew when to have some fun. After all, all work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy, right? You didn’t want to be that kind of person, you wanted to enjoy your college years, and luckily you had almost a polar opposite friend in Natasha to level you out.

“We just survived another week of finals,” she states, and grabbing your arms to stop you for just one second, “what better way to celebrate than partying?”  

She sees the conflicted look in your eyes, and can tell you’re weighing out the pros and cons. There were a lot of cons: you’d be surrounded by tons of people, most of which were going to be drunk as fuck or high out of their minds on whatever substance was passed around and the threat of getting taken advantage of by some stranger. The pros? You had some steam to let off and this was a chance to gather and see some of your other friends before the Holiday break. ‘Tis the season, right?

“I guess you’re right,” you start, beginning to compromise, “why not? It’ll be like a little send off,” you decide, throwing in a shrug, and that was it.

“We’re college kids, it’s our right,” Natasha shrugs, before digging into one of your boxes and pulling out one of your cute dresses. You could always count on her to help look good too.  

When you both take the short walk to the house, where tonight’s party would be taking place, you abruptly halt at the end of the front porch steps, breaking your locked arms with Natasha.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” She curses lightly as she almost trips backwards.

“This house…” you start, taking a step back and look up to inspect it, squinting, as if that would do you any good in the dark.

“Yeah?” She asks, a little too impatient, obviously hiding something.

“It’s familiar,” you continue, still trying to find out why it was so. Usually, that wasn’t a good thing...

“Come on. What are you talking about? It’s just a house. Don’t think too much and have fun tonight!” She says, stomping back down the steps and grabbing your arm to drag you up towards the front door.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, giving up again. What were you so worried about?  

“Aren’t I always?” She comments, and is, again, quick to shut you down when she sees you open your mouth. She presses her finger to the doorbell just as your mouth closes, and you both await the host.

You look off to the side and stare at the Greek letters tacked onto the wall. You knew you weren’t going to let it go on trying to find out why this house looked so familiar. Then, just when you’ve figured it out, your eyes widen in realization, the grip around your arm intertwined with Natasha’s tightens, feeling your attempt to slip away. The door swings open and the voice that booms out of the person, verifies your answer.

“Well, well, well...the weather outside sure is frightful, but this,” Bucky Barnes starts out singing before looking only in your direction, “oh, seeing you, is so delightful,” ending in a somewhat serious note.

“God, I hate winter,” you comment off to the side. It earns you a jab from Natasha, silently asking you to play nice.

He greets Natasha and easily lets her slip past him into the house. You call out her name, appalled that she left you alone with Bucky. Wasn’t that some rule? Never leave your friends alone at a Frat party.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky says sincerely when it’s just the two of you, to which you don’t respond, but roll your eyes. You didn’t come here to get seduced or hit on, but nonetheless shiver, and logically you could blame it on the cold weather and not the way that comment from him made you feel, then attempt to get inside the warm house.

"Excuse me,” he says, holding out his arms on either side of the door frames, blocking your entrance both ways, “where is my Christmas kiss?“ he asks, leaning in close to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask incredulously and back away. You owed him no such thing, but when you see the sly smirk on his lips, and his head signal for you to look up, you discover a traditional mistletoe hanging right above your heads.

Bringing your head back to its regular position, you look him dead in the eyes, “I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe, Barnes,” you scoff at his attempt to smooch you.

“Why not?” He presses, shuffling his weight from one leg onto the other, and before you can even give him an answer, you both hear your name being shouted from behind him. Bucky whips his head back and you do your best to look over his shoulder.

It came from your friend Wanda, who was excitedly waving you over to her. You smile and wave back at her, internally grateful that luck was on your side at this moment. Bucky turns back around and stares at you, wondering how to pick back up on your conversation, but when he doesn’t come up with anything, he sighs defeatedly, drops his arms and finally lets you in.

You make your way over to Wanda engulfing her with a huge hug. Natasha was close by, sipping on her drink. You’ll grill her later for leaving you alone with Bucky. She knew not to do that, but she did it at every chance she got. Now, you knew why she brought you to this specific house party.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without a proper farewell, were you?” Wanda asked worriedly. You immediately pieced together that Natasha had ratted you out on your attempt to leave campus and head back home early.

“It’s not forever, Wan,” you assure her. It was literally only for a few weeks, but while everyone would probably only be a few hours away from each other or a few states apart different, Wanda would be flying back to her home country to spend the Holidays with her family. You’ll admit, you could’ve been a little more considerate and sensitive.

“I’ll still miss you,” she says, the admission melting your heart, not even thinking about how the separation would be on others.

“She’s right, it’s not forever,” Natasha interjects, not allowing for any sad vibes on your last few hours of the semester together, “let’s make some memories tonight,” she says before handing you a drink.

Bucky, as hard as he tried to cover it up, rejoins his group of friends, Steve and Sam, sulking. He’d gotten you alone again, but failed, and he vowed to never give up. He had a crush on you, simple as that, but you were playing hard to get, and all this time spent on playing cat and mouse when you could be doing other things.

“Man, just save yourself from any further embarrassment and give up,” Sam tells him while also handing him a drink of his own, which Bucky accepts and quickly takes a swig from.

“Never,” he said, determined and slightly winces at the burn in his throat, his body almost warming in an instant, “I’m gonna get my Holiday kiss.”

“Why do you even care? You’re usually not one behind this Holiday shit,” he asks, looking around the crowded room.

“I’m not, but it gives me a reason to get close to her,” Bucky admits pathetically, staring into the red solo cup before taking the last swig, crushing it in his hand and air balling it to the trash.

“Dude!” Steve chastises him about adding onto the mess they’d have to clean afterwards, to which Bucky shrugs at.

“You can’t expect her to just kiss anyone under the mistletoe,” Steve reminds him. He knew it wasn't an easy conquest for any guy to gain your affection.

“I’ve been a good boy this year, alright, I’m gonna get her to see what she’s been looking for has been in front of her this whole time,” Bucky says trying not to sound or look as predatory as he watched you disappear into the kitchen with your friends.

You suppose the saying rules were meant to be broken, were taken a bit too literal by your friends, even college party rules because you’re left alone again. Wanda had abandoned the trio for some alone time with her boyfriend, who everyone dubbed Vision or Vis for short due to how outrageously innovative he was. Natasha decided to partake in a classic game of beer pong, something you incredibly sucked at, so there was no way she was going to recruit you as her partner nor were you interested in standing there awkwardly watching the game go on.

Surprisingly, the only place that seemed to be of a quiet enough spot to think was the backyard patio. You could see there was a fire lit and some other students scattered or sprawled on the grass. Quickening your pace, you manage to claim a vacant lawn chair next to the fire and hope you’d stay warm and at peace.

There you start to think that being in attendance tonight would’ve made no difference. Natasha was just good at persuading you into things. Call it peer pressure or whatever, but you put your faith and trust in her to not believe she’d ever steer you in the wrong direction, so why were you so bothered being here?

“You know, refusing to kiss someone under the mistletoe is bad luck,” you hear the voice of the reason why.

“I don’t believe in that bullshit,” you respond, watching as he plops down on the empty seat next to you.

“Really? Then why haven’t you been out on a date in so long?” he asks tauntingly.

“How would you know?” You ask a bit offended.

Why was he so concerned about your love life? You were never close with Bucky growing up and if anyone was of an impression you were, it was only because of Steve, who welcomed everyone, and that included you when you moved into the neighborhood when you were a little girl.

All throughout elementary school, until things started developing, puberty probably, it further separated you from Bucky. Steve blossomed a little later in life, so it helped solidify a good friendship with him, the same couldn’t be said for Bucky. You didn’t hate him, just got annoyed by his harmless teasing.

“I’ll have you know I have other priorities,” your attempt at an excuse was subtle, but you didn’t owe him an explanation anyways.

“Sure,” he says in a tone that suggests he didn’t believe you.

You watch as he lights up a cigarette, takes a small drag, and the cloud of smoke puffing out from his lips. He notices your stare and digs into his coat pocket, fishing out the pack before offering you one. You accept and pluck one out of the carton, he follows up with sticking out his lighter and you lean in closer to him to place the end of your stick against the flame.

You weren’t going to deny the relieving effect the nicotine had running through your body. College was stressful and while you weren’t one to abuse substances, a hit every now and then helped calm your nerves.

“So why is it you won’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe?” He asks, leaning back on the plastic chair, his head turning to the side, full attention on you.

He was enchanted by the girl, who grew up into a beautiful young woman, sitting next to him, slowly killing herself with every inhale and exhale of the cigarette between her lips, but you weren’t just attractive to Bucky, you were every bit incredible to him. You were smart, helpful, loyal to your friends and he was just misguided sometimes in life that led you to astray from him.

“It’s just an excuse for guys to steal a kiss from some poor girl...for lonely people to fake love,” you said almost bitterly.

Truth was, you had a bitter experience with a guy who’d led you on in high school after accidentally hearing that he could bet his friends he could get you to make out with him and he’d do so by using a mistletoe as a ruse.

Bucky detected some distaste in your response but decides not to interrogate you on it any further. There’d been a lot of growing up between the two of you since you’d both been estranged during your teenage years, and certain life events were missed on either party. So, where did you both stand in each other's lives now? You weren’t sure if you could call each other friends. It wasn’t easy to avoid Bucky, what with all the mutual friends and classes you shared, including the same street back home.

“I didn’t throw this party just to see everyone before they leave or to celebrate the end of finals,” he reveals, after several, somber minutes of silence, the cigarettes in your hands quickly burning out.

“Then why did you?” You ask curiously, meeting his gaze.

“To see you,” he simply admits. It was vague.

“How’d you even know I’d show up?” You quiz him.

“Because I begged Natasha to convince you,” he freely says, exposing his plan.

You were a smart person, but you couldn’t figure Bucky out. Why would he do that? Or for that matter, say something like that. What was his endgame here?

“Tis the fuckin’ season,” you comment offhand, getting up from the seat to leave. You stomp out your cigarette and prepare to head back inside and bid your farewells.

You’re just about to step through the threshold, when you feel a large hand wrap around your arm, halting you in place in the middle of the sliding screen door.

“Am I really that bad?” He inquires, and you know he’s not asking about just kissing him under the mistletoe anymore. Bucky always wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how tough he appeared to be. It fooled a lot of people, sometimes you included, but in this moment, he seemed to genuinely be concerned about your perspective about him.

You were too grown to blame how the course of your relationship with Bucky had gone south on silly teenage phases. You knew it was much deeper than that, it was how sad it made you feel.

You’d harbored a small crush on him back then and it was cruel to see him grow into a handsome, charming guy and go out with other girls. He never showed an interest in you in the past and it was getting exhausting trying to get his attention, it was proving to be a distraction in your life, so it was then you’d vowed to focus on yourself and the life ahead of you, a life that didn’t revolve or involve Bucky.

However, a part of you, the risky and impulsive part of you, said you had less than a handful of months left before you were set to walk the stage and graduate. If you did what you were about to do, you could avoid Bucky for just one more semester, then you’d move far, far away and most likely never see him again. With a quick glance up, you give in to the idea of this side of you, lean in and plant your lips on Bucky’s soft ones.

Bucky is left dumbfounded, eyes still half closed when you pull away. He was shocked, caught off guard, and you by a totally different notion. You like him, you’ve always liked him.

It was a decent kiss if anyone would’ve caught it, at least you hoped it appeared it was, and that Bucky could convince you of it being so…

“You said kissing under the mistletoe is for lonely people to fake love...so then why do I feel so alive?” he asks you in a daze.

He doesn't succeed in convincing you.

How you’d both managed to move past that scene at the doorway without raising suspicion was beyond you two. The fact you both found a vacant room was an even more impressive feat at the moment.

“You better have locked that door,” you say, attempting to make it sound like a threat, but with you underneath him, you were anything but.

Shoes scattered along the pathway to the bed, his thick jacket following in suit. You’d managed to pull your lips back from his, but he couldn’t keep his off of yours as they trailed from the corner of your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You feel his tongue drag just along your pulse, causing your hips to thrust up. You let out a moan at what you felt through his jeans and how he started sucking and nibbling over the spot he’d licked.

“Why? Don’t want everyone finding out how naughty you actually are?” He questions back teasingly with a cocky grin, and as he tugs at the sleeves of his unbuttoned shirt.

You don’t have a comeback for him, but instead you lightly shove him back and try to escape from underneath, hoping to get through to him and show you’re in fact serious. The last thing you wanted was for any of your friends to walk in on you two in the act.

“Relax!” He says, also sitting up and reaching out and pulling you back to him, “I locked it,” he assures, leaning in closer, “not even Santa will know what we’re doing,” then his lips reclaim yours, his tongue delving in your mouth. You’re once more on your back, lips locked and heavy. Had you known kissing Bucky was this good, you’d have kissed him earlier.

Bucky’s hands run up your thighs, snake their way underneath, you feel his fingers ghost over your scantily clad pussy. The tingling sensation causes the feeling in the pit of your stomach to brew.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks huskily while still pecking your lips.

“Yes,” you almost immediately answer, desperate for his touch.

“How bad?” Oh, he knows how bad, but he had so much fun watching you crumble.

“Bucky,” you start to whine.

“Tell me...how bad do you want me to touch you,” he repeats slowly.

“Fuck you,” you bite back. He was really going to make you say it, “I want you to touch me so bad...please, Bucky,” you quickly give in.

Bucky rewards you with a deep kiss as you feel him hook a finger on the thin slit of your panties and pull them to the side. He runs a long finger between your folds, and he pulls his lips away to inhale sharply.

“You’re so wet,” he states the obvious, bringing that same hand up to his lips to lick the pad of his thumb so he could start rubbing circles on your clit. You bite your lip and stare at him, he’s watching you carefully, loving how hard you’re trying to hold back.

“You want to be a good girl?” He asks, and you nod, “then don’t hold back. Stop fighting me, and I’ll make you come hard with just my fingers,” he bargains. You want to call him on his bluff, but he’s the one with the upper hand - literally. “But first…,” he starts, sitting up on his knees, hands back at his sides so he could scoot down lower on the bed, “...I want to taste this pussy,” his voice deep, and almost dangerous.

He pushes the end of your dress up, bunching it at the waist, to reveal your cute underwear. He pauses for a split second, “Holiyay indeed” he says to himself, reading the embezzled design on the front of your thong. You don’t even roll your eyes in annoyance anymore, because maybe if you kept quiet and submissive enough, you’ll finally get to come.

When he rids you of the garment, Bucky uses his fingers to spread your wet lips before running his tongue flat against it, only narrowing out when it reaches your clit. He spends a little more time at your there, circling it with his tongue, lightly kissing and sucking at it. His fingers start rubbing you, tracing the rim of the opening, while his mouth was still busy at work.

You're all but writhing from the buildup, your chest heaving up and down, stomach clenching tight from his doing, not prepared for when he inserts a finger inside your wet hole. You audibly gasped and reached a hand towards him, but he swats it away. You dare pick your head up to watch, and you’re met with his eyes, full of lust, looking up at you, but his mouth still latched onto your pussy. You can feel his finger slide in and out of you slowly, your mouth open displaying how good he’s making you feel.

In fact, it’s too good you’re not in control of your legs anymore as they kick and squirm at the feeling he’s bestowing on you, so he removes his finger away from you only to maneuver into a position where he could hook his arms under legs and basically slam your back down on the bed. You unconsciously start chanting his name, like a silent prayer for him to touch you down there again.

Your head is a little fuzzy, body on fire; you want to burst. Unable to pick up your head, you cast your eyes down on him just in time to see him spit on your already soaking cunt. You watch as he uses his fingers to spread the wetness all over before slipping two fingers inside of you.

The intrusion causes you to groan and back to arch, and you can’t help but grab at any part of the arm that his hand going to work on you, just making sure it doesn't go away until it gets the job done. He chuckles lightly at your eagerness with your hips bucking up at his palm.

“I promised I’d let you come, right?” He points out, which you nod fervently, loosen your grip and attempt to keep your hips at bay, so he could fulfill his promise. You feel his finger push in about knuckle-deep and curl inside, causing you to choke out a dry sob. You begin to bite your lip, hard, when he does it again and again.  

Your hands are on autopilot, trying to heighten the pleasure your body was being coursed with, and they grab handfuls of your breasts, still confined in your dress. You squeeze and squish them together, anything to help you find that release sooner. Bucky’s gaze catches onto your moves and licks at his lips, the sight of your breasts threatening to spill out offers him a taste of what’s still yet to be unwrapped.

He speeds up his efforts, they’re proven efficient as you start clenching tight around his fingers, your arousal also coating the palm of his hand. He whispers tiny praises as you try to recover from the first orgasm. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hands over your face, almost dazed and bewildered that Bucky was capable of pulling something like that out of you.  

Your legs fall limp on the bed, the silence broken by Bucky, “such a sweet pussy,” he compliments, and you take a peek between your fingers to see his fingers pop out of his mouth from sucking his digits clean.

“Do you want to unwrap your gift?” He asks, crawling over to you. You manage to sit up, your body supported by your propped elbows, so Bucky is slightly hovering over you. You nod at his question and he brings one hand behind your head to swoop you in for a sweet kiss. You use both hands to hold his face in place to make the kiss last just a little longer.

Bucky reluctantly pulls away though so he could grab at the bunched fabric of your dress and pull it over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He swears, eyes running over every part of you before sitting upright on his knees again.

You lean in and reach with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal sounding loud, button popping off in haste, and dragging the zipper down. You yank down at his fitted jeans to reveal the imprint of his hard cock under his boxer briefs. Fuck, he was big, that much you could see. You couldn’t keep your grabby hands away as you palm him through the fabric, his cock twitching at the indirect contact.

“Take it out,” he instructs, and you look up perilously at him, eyes begging him to confirm, “...it’s yours, baby girl,” and it was all the assurance you needed to peel his boxers down.

You wrap your hands around his length and start pumping him languidly. He was already hard and no doubt fully erect, but you immediately found how good it felt in your hands. With every pump, his pre-cum pools at the head, and with each trip your hands make up to the tip, they travel back down with the substance, effectively lathering him up and making him slick enough for an easy entry.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he admits when you give his member an experimental squeeze, your fingers curl around him, the tips grazing along his balls.

Leaning in to place light kisses to his pecs, you look up at him, “well, you’ve been a good boy, so do it,” you say, hands retreating as you lie back down, “...fuck me, Bucky.”

Bucky lets out a low growl, kicks his bottoms away, and climbs back on top of you. He reaches down to grab his cock and starts running it up and down the length of your sex, causing your body to shudder. You could feel the ridges and just how hard he got before he slowly slid his cock inside. There’s a tiny sting on his entrance as his thick cock stretches your walls.

“Mmm, baby, it’s cold outside,” he starts playfully singing, “...but you, you’re so warm,” kissing your cheek, getting you to relax; not realizing you had held your breath trying to bear through the initial pain, “...and so wet,” he says pulling out with a lewd noise, before thrusting all the way back in, bottoming out.  

He starts off sweet and slow, and while you liked that on some occasion, now wasn’t one of them. Bucky’s cock probed at your spot almost instantly and you found out you didn’t want to prolong the euphoric ending. His hands slip around your smaller frame, pulling your body up, closer to his, while his hips moved in waves crashing harder and harder into yours.

His face buried into the mattress next to your face, you hear his breathy moans, and you love that he doesn’t hold them back the slightest. Who didn’t like to hear how good the other person was making them feel, right? You grip and pull at his hair, while the other gabs at his buttocks, feeling it flex with each snap of his hips, and your legs tangled with his. Sweat that had built up on your bodies make the movements sloppy, muscles beginning to ache, both of you were about to peak.

“God, you feel so good,” he says, picking his head up, his hair matted and messy, he still looked sexy, “...you gonna come all over my cock now?” His words fuel you and your hips start driving into his, making him eat his own words, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Yes, Bucky,” you coo, your hands gripping his sides, loving the feeling of his hard body, slick and warm to the touch, “...come,” you try coaxing him, but one particular thrust rips right through you and your walls start clenching him tighter than the fit.

You only finish the command when you’re riding the waves of the aftershock, “come on, Bucky, I want it...inside, please.” You definitely picked up on the fact that he liked to hear you beg and be specific with your wants.

Bucky soon stills, spurts of his hot cum splatter your walls that continue to flutter around his cock. His climax spreads warmth all over your lower body. Your limbs, both arms and legs, wrap around his exhausted body. He carefully drops his bodyweight on you, mindful of not suffocating you in the process.

When he’s regained regular breathing, using one of his hands, he reaches behind him in search of yours before interlocking your fingers and just holding it, you hold onto each other. Bucky picks up his head and stares at your hand in his, you follow his gaze and join him. They fit with one another perfectly, and even so, the light squeeze he gives it, lets you know it also felt right.

“Well, where have you two been?” Sam says loudly, announcing you and Bucky’s arrival, rejoining your group of friends. Wanda and Vision close to each other, his arm around her frame, Natasha standing in between Sam and Steve, a refilled cup in each of their hands.

“I have been trying to escape this crazed man all night,” you playfully exaggerate.

“And yet you’ve managed to keep failing,” Bucky chimes in smugly, a cute smirk running across his features. This unearthed feeling testing your willpower to keep up with appearance and show resistance.

“Yeah, no thanks to my so-called friends,” pinning the blame on the two females in the room. Wanda turns red, guilty and slightly awful for abandoning you, but Natasha has a different reaction. She’s got that knowing smile on her face. It’s small, but very strong.

You watch as her eyes divert to the ceiling, you follow her gaze and then when you both look back at each other, the smile on her face turns into a full-blown smirk. There’s a collective sound of “oh’s” from everyone, noting the mistletoe above you and Bucky.

Turning to Bucky, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do, just stands there staring at you, not knowing what to expect. You’re supposed to act like nothing happened or reveal anything to your friends just yet, so he mentally prepares for a rebuttal to your impending rejection or insult to kiss him. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what you do instead.

You place a hand on the back of his neck and pull him down to you and smash your lips together. Bucky’s hands immediately grab a hold of your hips, he’d have to get used to the lightheaded feeling when he’s close to you.

The kiss is slow and probably not appropriate to be deemed as a simple traditional mistletoe kiss, but you both can’t help it and continue to allow your lips to slide against one another’s before there’s a rise of cheers, whistling and howls around you, shattering the bubble.

When you pull apart, you reluctantly walk away from Bucky and head to where Natasha stood, steal the cup from her hand and finish off the remainder of her drink, all while staring straight at her. She knew. Only when you’re done with the last sip, you give her the same small, sly smile. There are no words exchanged, and none needed.

“Guess, you have been a good boy this year, Barnes,” Sam jokes, but regardless is proud of his friend.

“Third time's the charm,” Bucky says casually, shrugging like it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t been desperately chasing you all night. You shake your head at his silliness, but nonetheless smile at him, your heart skipping a bit.

Who knew what you’d been looking for was hanging underneath the doorway staring at you face-to-face this whole time?

A/N: I can confidently say, I used one of these Christmas puns as a pickup line on a guy recently and it worked in my favor! Shoot your shot but stay safe in more than one way; these are them trying times. Also, the underwear thing is a real design I saw while looking through Victoria’s Secret sales…lol. 

🎁 Gift me a like, reblog, comment - anything, please! 🥺💖

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Fem!Stark!Reader) — part four

Y’all. I am dumb as all fucking hell. I’ve had this finished for days and just keep forgetting to post it. Send help

Summary: Ominous stuff and the Father Test results oooooo

Warnings: angst but that’s it I think

The next day, you and Wanda finally tackle everything Pepper bought you. You’re glad you took Tony’s advice (for once) and asked Wanda for help because it’s so much stuff.

“That is not my color. There’s no way I’d wear that.”

“You won’t know unless you try it on!” Wanda argues, holding the shirt out to you.

You push it back to her chest. “Nope. You take it.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, setting it aside. “Pepper got these for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” But I don’t like owning things.

Wanda sighs. “I’m sorry, but it’s okay to own things, you know.”

You look up in shock. You completely forgot she can read minds.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, grimacing. “I try not to, I swear, but that was a strong feeling,” she raises her eyebrows for emphasis.

“I’m not used to it,” you confess. “Mom never had enough money for us to have anything but the essentials. So, this…” You gesture at the pile of clothes around you and on your bed. “It’s weird.”

“I understand,” Wanda says. “But, I mean, you didn’t have anything when you got here. These are all essentials. It just looks like a lot.”

“You’re probably right,” you murmur. “You can still have the shirt, though. That really isn’t my color.”

“Okay,” she chuckles. “I’ll take it.”

You hear footsteps down the hall, and they sound a lot like Bucky’s, which is why when he knocks on the door, you’re not at all surprised when it sounds like his knock, too.

“Come in,” you call out, and sure enough, it’s Bucky.

“Hey-- Oh, hey Wanda.”

She waves.

He looks back at you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just checking on you.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Why?”

He shrugs, evidently not having a reason. “I...I don’t know. I hadn’t seen you since yesterday, so I guess I just...wanted to check.”

“Oh,” you nod slowly. “I’m good. Thanks for checking.”

“Yeah,” he says, waving once more. “See you.” He closes the door behind him, and you listen to his footsteps retreat back into the main area.

“Weird,” you mutter, grabbing another shirt to examine.

Wanda snickers.

You drop the shirt, giving her a look. “What?”

“Nothing…” She shakes her head, picking up a pair of pants. “These are cute.”

“Wanda,” you sigh. “What?”

“Nothing!” She tries again. “Really, it’s nothing. Bucky is the one mind I can’t really read. He’s good at hiding things.”

“But?”

She shrugs. “He doesn’t really check up on people.”

“Okay? And?”

“Nothing,” she says again. “Like I said, I can’t read him. And we have a bigger thing to worry about. Do you like these?” She turns the pants around for you.

You accept her subject change reluctantly. The pants are cute.

+++

When Bucky returns to the main area, he’s immediately called away by Steve.

“Meeting in five,” Steve says. “At MedBay.”

Bucky follows Steve to the elevator, narrowing his eyes. “Why MedBay?”

“It’s about Y/N,” Steve says quietly, stepping inside the elevator with Bucky.

“Did the results come back?” Bucky asks.

“They must’ve,” Steve sighs.

“What are we gonna do if she’s like us?” Bucky asks. “She has no clue that she is.”

“That we know of,” Steve adds.

“No, Steve, I don’t think she knows,” Bucky argues. “At all.”

“Well, we’ll figure that out later,” Steve says.

The elevator stops at MedBay, letting the two super soldiers off.

They’re met with Dr. Cho, Tony, and Natasha standing around. The look that Nat gives Steve is enough to let him know it’s bad.

Of course, bad is subjective. Because if you are a super soldier, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing (you won’t drop dead from it) -- but Bucky isn’t sure it’s a good thing, either. Especially if you don’t know what you are, because that means you were given the serum against your will and without your knowledge. But who would do that to you -- to a fucking kid?

Tony breaks the silence. “Well, we don’t need to stand around staring at each other. I’m sure you’ve put two and two together.”

Bucky’s heart sinks. “She’s a super soldier?”

Dr. Cho shakes her head. “I’m not completely sure.” She pauses. “But based on the DNA so far...yes. A form of one.”

“A form of one?” Bucky blurts.

“I’ve already called Dr. Banner,” Tony says. “He should be here tomorrow to help us figure this one out. Quickly.”

“Do you think someone is trying to recreate the serum?” Steve asks.

“Not trying to,” Tony says. “If Y/N is anything to go off of, they’ve done it.”

“But how does she not remember it?” Natasha questions. “It sounds like something someone would remember.���

“Unless she was unconscious,” Bucky adds quietly. “Or whoever it was wiped her memory.”

Everyone looks at Bucky, afraid that he’s right.

“We don’t know that, but...I do know her mom worked for HYDRA. Or a group closely associated with them,” Tony waves his hands aimlessly. “FRIDAY is still digging.”

“And you had sex with her?” Bucky laughs darkly. “Of course.”

“Hey, I don’t need your judgement, Barnes,” Tony snaps. “All I need is some help. Because until I say so, this stays between us. Okay?” Tony raises his eyebrows. “Barnes?”

“Okay,” Bucky mutters.

“Understood,” Steve says with a nod, but Tony wasn’t worried about him, or Natasha who nods in agreement, too. Tony’s worried about Bucky because he’s latched onto you in some weird way that Tony can’t quite place, but he knows it’s going to cause issues.

“I’ll try to convince her to start training with us,” Nat says. “At least with Wanda and I first. It’ll give her something to do and I can see how she behaves.”

Steve likes the idea. “If she wants to train with me or Buck, that’s fine too, we can gauge if she does or doesn’t know about her strength.”

“We don’t even know if she has super strength,” Bucky argues. “All I’ve noticed is that her senses are sharper than normal.”

“She’s been on the run,” Nat counters. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s holding things back from us. Don’t give me that look, I’m not saying I blame her, I’m saying I understand.”

Bucky doesn’t stop glaring at her, but he does nod.

Tony breaks the tension with a clap of his hands. “Now that we’re all on the same page, I need to go. I’ve got some news to break to the kid.”

All heads slowly turn toward Tony.

“Wait…” Nat furrows her eyebrows.

“She’s really yours?” Steve asks quietly.

“She’s really mine,” Tony nods, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Talk about being father of the year. Not even knowing your kid exists until she’s almost twenty.” He laughs it off because that’s all he knows how to do, but everyone can tell he’s beating himself up inside.

+++

When you see Tony again, Wanda is gathering the few clothes you decided not to keep.

“Hey munchkin,” he says, knocking on your door with two knuckles. “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” you shrug.

“I’ll see you later,” Wanda waves, punching Tony lightly in the arm on her way by.

“What’s up?” You ask. You’re grateful he’s come in now because it gets you out of hanging all this shit up, but you won’t admit that to him.

“Thought we could take a walk,” he shrugs. “I realized I haven’t given you the grand tour.”

You chuckle. “I’ve been almost everywhere, I mean, what else is there?”

Tony only smiles.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “Fine, lead the way.”

Tony doesn’t seem nearly as happy as you thought he would when you agreed.

Still, you follow him, and you don’t question his mood. Even if the two of you do bicker like hell, you kind of don’t mind spending some time with him. Working in the lab yesterday was more fun than you expected it to be.

Tony takes you down to the garage where all his cars are. There’s a couple motorcycles, one for Steve and one for Natasha. Bucky, surprisingly, doesn’t have one. Tony doesn’t point a car out and say it’s Bucky’s, so you don’t know if he even has one.

From there, he walks you through the business floors, nodding to the few people that pass by. You notice the odd looks you get, though. Tony doesn’t bat a single eyelash.

It’s when Tony walks you through his lab again that you realize he’s stalling about something, but you say nothing, letting him do whatever it is he’s doing. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re kind of enjoying the tour.

The last stop is the balcony near the very top of the tower. It’s right outside Tony’s office, unsurprisingly, but you truthfully didn’t even notice it the first day you were here.

You take in the view of the city from here, the breeze on your cheeks. You have a feeling you’ll be sneaking in here more often than not to come out here.

“So… The results came in.”

Slowly, you look over at Tony. “The results?” You pause. “From the paternity test? Already?”

“Dr. Cho uses different technology here,” he shrugs. “It’s quicker.”

“Okay…” You murmur. “What’s the verdict?”

Tony chuckles as he takes his sunglasses off. “What do you think?” He pauses, looking down. “What do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, leaning against the railing. “What did you want it to be?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a father,” he admits, surprising you. “But the fact that it never happened just told me I wasn’t cut out for it. And even now, I think that’s true. I mean, look at me,” he scoffs. “I didn’t even know I have a daughter until she’s almost twenty, and she had to come to me. I couldn’t even go to her.”

You stare out at the city, not blinking, not moving, barely breathing.

“I always said I’d try to be better than my dad if I was one,” he continues. “I’d be around more. I’d be more involved in my kid’s life than I would in my work. Guess that one didn’t work out.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” you chuckle, trying to slice through some of the awkward tension, “every time my mom told me you’re my dad, I...I would be two seconds away from telling her to go to hell. But I never did.” You shrug. “I never believed her, though, either.”

“Do you believe her now?”

“Hard to argue with science, I guess,” you admit. “We can ignore it, though, if you’d rather I just...quietly leave.”

Tony shakes his head. “No. No, I’m not gonna make you leave.”

“Okay.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” he says. “And you can change rooms, too, just let me know. There’s bigger ones a few floors down that are empty. It’s just Bucky and Steve on one end.”

You snicker. “You sure you want me rooming on the same floor as them?”

“Yeah, you know what, I take that back,” he nods firmly. “You’re staying where you are.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he replies almost instantly.

Heavy silence settles over the two of you for a few moments. The city breeze is the only noise in your ears, aside from the car engines, but you’ve gotten good at tuning those out.

“You’re not gonna get pissed if I don’t call you dad, right?” You ask.

“As long as you don’t get pissed if I keep calling you munchkin.”

You sigh. Win some, lose some. “Fine.”

“Good deal,” Tony says with a nod.

“Can I ask something else?”

“Shoot.” He pushes away from the railing to face you instead, leaning his hip against the glass.

“Do you remember my mom at all?” Before he can reply, you say, “It’s fine if you don’t. I’m just curious.”

He hangs his head. “I don’t. I’m sorry, munchkin.”

You shrug. “Probably for the better, anyway.”

Tony stills. It’s the first time he’s ever heard you talk about your mom, really, but with what he knows, it only makes him more suspicious. FRIDAY won’t finish digging until sometime tonight or tomorrow, but the beginning of what she’s found doesn’t look positive. And neither does your current expression.