#whenever i look at it 2) to get something to pretty in my left forearm that it will stop me from doing anything to it to not risk ruining it

[the-lark-ascending69]

Had this moment of extreme anger and aggression out of nowhere and ended up hurting myself and then i wrote about it, went out to get some coffee, chatted w the coffee lady for 5 minutes, watched an episode of amphibia and now i feel weirdly refreshed and hopeful about life and the future??

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5

Secret admirer Part 6!!!

It's here! the final part!! Thank you all so much for reading this and for those of you who have left kudos and bookmarked it on AO3!! I am so appreciative, I really have no words but more 'thank you's.. so thank you thank you thank you!!!

ICYMI, this fic has a name and is now on AO3 here: Several Notes of the Most Amiable Nature and a brand new epilogue!!: (Reprise)

Steve meets Eddie’s gaze from across the room and he immediately starts to panic. ‘“I know.”?? What does he mean he knows?? Is he just being a little shit or does he know it's me? When did he figure it out?? Did Robin tell him? If he does know, is he glad its m_’ 

Steve is quite literally saved by the bell when the doorbell rings out. ‘Oh thank god.’

“Pizza’s here!” Steve claps his hands together, “Robs, will you answer the door so I can grab my wallet?”

“Sure thing, Dingus.” She grumbles and pushes herself off the couch.

Steve grabs his wallet and meets her at the front door, pays the driver, shuts the door, and immediately stops Robin from leaving.

“Robin, does Eddie know it’s me?”

“Whoa, hold on there Steve, these things are heavy…”

Steve grabs the pizzas from her with one hand, all six stacked up and balancing on his upturned forearm.

“Show-off.”

“Robin, I’m serious. He looked right at me and said ‘I know.’; What’s up with that? Does he actually know?” his voice whispering in an agitated tone.

“How should I know?” She whispers back in the same tone. “Maybe you should just tell him. Where are you going to go from here with the roses anyway? You literally left one on the man’s doorstep. What’s next, you going to somehow stick it up his ass without him knowing?? Wait_don’t answer that. I don’t ever want to know what you may or may not stick up his ass.” She waved her hands around frantically to Steve’s appalled expression as if trying to wave away her thoughts.

“Let's just get these pizzas to your children; but seriously, at least think about coming clean? I’m 100% sure he’ll be thrilled it was you.” She grabbed three of the boxes from him and turned back to the living room.

Steve followed, and couldn’t help but perk up at Eddie’s smile to him when he came around the corner. If Steve had a tail, it’d be wagging a mile a minute. Fuck, he was so gone on Eddie. 

Everything about him just glowed. Everyone says that about the people they care about “They light up a room as soon as they walk in.” but with Eddie, it was the whole truth. Well no, maybe not.. Eddie was like a spaceheater? He glowed with a warm light that did, in fact, light up whatever room he was in, but he was always something more. It was like you thawed out whenever you were near him. Like the rest of the world was so cold and bleak, but you didn’t know it until you were near him.

Steve thought about this the rest of the night. Watching Eddie as he spun stories out of nothing but a single thought. Watching him traipse around the room singing parts of Phantom (Steve pretty much had a copy rented out constantly now), much to the rest of the kids’ delight. Watched as he and Dustin acted out lightsaber battles during Star Wars, jumping between cushions and blankets on the floor (“Like Anakin and Obi-Wan did in the new movie Steve, have you really not seen it yet?” Dustin had asked. No, he hadn’t.).

Even after the excitement of the movies and the evening wound down, Eddie was still being their party’s personal spaceheater. Sidling up to Will on the floor while Will was doodling something in his sketchbook. Will seemed apprehensive about talking to Eddie about whatever it was he was drawing, but again Eddie managed to thaw Will out to where they both were talking animatedly and BOTH drawing things in Will’s sketchbook. Steve caught a part of the conversation as he stepped over them later, it must’ve been something about their dragon game or Game Meister-ing since the conversation fully sounded like a foreign language to Steve.

Near ten, after the last movie had stopped (a while ago now, no one had bothered putting in a new one), Steve looked around and found everyone hunkered down with sleepy looks in their eyes.

He got up to start clearing things away, when Eddie started to read.

Steve looked over to the metalhead, back in his spot in the middle of the floor, all the kids sprawled out around him, a copy of The Hobbit in his hand.

‘Where’d he get that? Did he really really bring his own book with him? What a dork’ Steve smiled at the thought.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort.”

Steve found himself entranced by Eddie’s reading. So much so, in fact, that he didn’t even register Robin and Nancy getting up and start grabbing trash too until Nancy gently pried the pizza box Steve was still holding out of his hand.

“Oh, sorry Nancy, let me help.”

“It’s perfectly fine Steve,” she whispered back “Robin and I took care of it.”

Steve looked around his living room and she was right, there was nothing left to throw out or put away. How long had he been standing there?

“Thanks guys, I appreciate it.”

Robin came up on Nancy’s side then “No worries Dingus, we’re going to head upstairs though. Still okay to use the guest room?”

“Of course, you know where the towels are.” Nancy gave him a small smile and headed up the stairs. Steve stopped Robin as she turned away, whispering even quieter. “Don’t make too much noise okay?”

Her face turned beet red as he gave her a wink “Shut up!” Robin smacked his arm and turned to follow Nancy up the stairs. 

Steve chuckled at her retreating back before returning his attention to Eddie who was still reading, in a softer voice now. Almost everyone was snoring softly around him; tired from being outside all day in the sun, full of junk they probably should have had way less of, and probably just a sense of coziness, warmth, and safety coming from their heater. The only ones still awake were Erica and Dustin, both either too stubborn to want to fall asleep before the other (Erica), or just wanting to hang onto every word he could (Dustin).

Steve wished he could take a picture. Instead, he forced himself to commit the scene in front of him to memory. He never wanted to lose this one. The sight of the love of his life surrounded by his family, safe and happy.

Wait.

Did he just think of Eddie as the love of his life?

Love?

Yes. Love.

Steve Harrington was in love with Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson, town freak. Eddie Munson, Super-Super Senior. Perfect, beautiful, amazing Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson, the father of his children. 

The love of his life.

Steve felt the need to run away. ‘Just tell him! TELL HIM!’ So he did the opposite, he turned to run up to his room and hide away from what just happened inside his head. ‘Coward! Useless coward!‘

But before he could even fully step foot on the bottom step, Eddie was calling out to him in a whisper. 

“Steve! Wait for me!” 

Steve turned to the sound and started chuckling at the sight of Eddie trying to step between the bodies around him like he was navigating a minefield (and he really was, there were a lot of fingers and toes hidden under the blankets around his feet).

“As soon as I saw Dustin drop off, I knew Erica was going to follow.” Eddie said, smiling up at Steve before turning back to admire the piles of blankets on the floor and couches in front of him.

“Yeah, she’s a stubborn one.” Steve laughed quietly, “Come on man, you can bunk with me.”

They started up the steps “What, no guest room in this big house?”

“There’s only one, and Robin and Nancy already claimed that one for themselves.”

“Oohohoho! Good for them.” Eddie laughed 

“I warned Robin to keep it down, but if you hear anything, just pretend you didn’t for their sake.”

“No worries Stevie, I wouldn’t want to incur the wrath of Buckley for making fun like that.” Eddie paused before continuing, “Or Nancy for that matter.” He shuddered at the thought.

Steve snorted out a laugh at that as they came to the landing at the top of the stairs, and took a left.

“Here we are.” Steve opened the door and let Eddie in first.

Eddie let out a low whistle as he stepped into the room. “Wow Harrington, this wallpaper is…something.”

“Laugh it up Munson, I didn’t pick it.” Steve closed the door and leaned back against it with his arms crossed. “And my mom would have a conniption if I even asked to change it.”

Eddie looked at him with pity, but Steve pushed past the look and went to his drawers, “You need some underwear too, or are you good?” Steve asked, handing Eddie a pair of black sweats that were always too small for him. “I have some brand new ones if you need them, so you don’t have to wear mine.” Steve gave a soft chuckle, embarrassed to even suggest it.

Eddie laughed and took the sweats from Steve. “No man, I’m covered, I’ve got some of mine in my..oh fuck I left my bag downstairs. I’m gonna go grab it.” Eddie said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder toward the door as he also started walking back towards it.

Steve chuckled, “OK man, be careful not to wake anyone up. I’m going to jump in the shower.” Steve also gestured behind him with his thumb towards his ensuite.

“No need to worry about me Stevie, I am stealthy like a ninja.” Eddie lifted his leg and gestured to his socked foot before turning out the door and jingled down the hall.

‘Seems like he forgot about that damn chain around his hip.’ Steve laughed to himself and headed into the bathroom to get cleaned up for the night. 

—---

Eddie snuck down the hall from Steve’s room and down the steps toward the front door for his bag. 

As he was sneaking back, he checked in on the kids again. Everyone was where he left them earlier, all quietly breathing or (in Dustin’s case) snoring loudly.

Smiling to himself, Eddie stalked back up the stairs, taking them two at a time up to the landing. There was, in fact, some sort of noise coming from behind the closed door right at the top of the steps and Eddie had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing as he slunk back into Steve’s room softly closing the door behind him. 

Eddie didn’t quite know what to do while he waited for Steve to be done in the shower. He dropped his bag next to the door and fished out a new pair of boxers and a Judas Priest shirt, piling them with the sweats Steve lent him on the bed.

Deciding to poke around, Eddie went to Steve’s desk and looked at all the papers spread across the top. A couple pay stubs, a couple old notes that looked to be between him and robin, some notebooks that Eddie pointedly did not open, and a couple tickets. Most of them for movies, but one, just a small slip of orange paper stuck under the glass top of the desk itself, is printed with: “Hawkins High Presents the Fall/Winter 2002 production of ‘The Phantom of the Opera’. November 29, 2002.”.

Eddie ran his fingers over the glass above the ticket. ‘The first show..?’ he thinks. ‘But the first rose didn’t show up until the last show..on the 1st?’

His fingers catch on the edge of the notebook on top of the glass above the ticket and when it moves, for just a split second, Eddie sees more orange paper. 

He lifts the notebook out of the way and there are two other tickets, identical except for the dates printed on them. November 30, 2002 and December 1, 2002.

Eddie felt his throat tighten and his eyes start to burn. Steve went to all three showings? Why? That’s so sweet and also so unexpected? Shit, all of this is unexpected, god, he is such a fucking sap.. He kept these all this time?

Eddie didn’t get much farther in this spiral before he heard the shower turn off in the ensuite. Placing the notebook carefully back where it was, Eddie shot up out of the chair and started looking at the small cluster of photos above Steve’s dresser instead. Mostly shots of the kids, one of him and Robin in their Scoops uniforms, and one of the whole party at Eddie, Robin, and Nancy’s graduation. Eddie’s throat had stopped clenching up on him by now, but seeing that Steve had this picture made it seize tight again. 

Steve threw open the door and Eddie jumped like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared me!” Eddie slapped his hand over his chest. Managing to keep his face looking incredulous at the sight of a damp-haired, damp-skinned, shirtless Steve. Eddie thanked the universe that Steve had actually put on pants before coming out of the bathroom. Though the gray sweatpants that were hung low on Steve’s hips were only slightly better than if he’d come out with just a towel around his waist.

Steve chuckled at him and said “Your turn, Munson. Feel free to use whatever you want that’s in there.” Steve scrubbed the towel over his hair and stopped Eddie from his path toward the bathroom with his stack of clothes in hand, with an “Oh yeah, there’s a new toothbrush in the top left drawer for you if you like, and the towels on the shelf above the toilet are clean.”

“Thanks Steve!” Eddie smiled at him, closing the door (almost all the way) behind him. He set his clothes on the closed toilet lid before he leaned forward on the sink and let out a long breath. ‘Fuck he’s so hot.’ Eddie thought to himself as he stripped down, hopped into the shower, and started washing the sun, sweat, and sunscreen from his skin (and doing his best to ignore his *ahem* semi-problem).

Studying the bottles in front of him, Eddie grabbed the most un-assuming bottles of shampoo and conditioner, hoping he wasn’t using the most expensive shit here, and scrubbed the chlorine out of his hair.

This whole time, he was singing quietly. He decided to torture Steve a bit (if he happened to be listening) by singing the songs Steve had used the lyrics of for the roses. Eddie just wanted Steve to come clean already; he was going insane keeping himself from planting one on Steve’s stupidly pretty face every time he saw the younger man.

Once finished, he re-dressed, hung his towel around his shoulders to keep the water from soaking his shirt, and brushed his teeth with the toothbrush Steve told him about.

Opening the door, Eddie used the towel to scrunch the dripping ends of his hair up into the rest of his head like his uncle had told him to do (“You and your mom have the same hair, and that’s what she always used to do. Said it helps her curls.” Wayne shrugged). While busy with that, Eddie didn’t notice right away that Steve was pacing.

“Steve? You okay?” Eddie asked him, still scrunching his hair.

Steve stopped his pacing for a moment, looked at Eddie, and his already pinched expression pinched up tighter as he resumed his path on the carpet.

“Steve. Steve! You’re freaking me out, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore!” he blurted, turning to look at Eddie. “I can’t do it anymore.” repeating himself, quieter this time.

Eddie froze. There it was. The other shoe he didn’t know he was waiting for, dropping. Here it comes, the ‘I can’t believe you thought I was into you.’, the ‘I was just flirting with you to see how riled up I could get you.’, the heartbreak.

“Hey, no worries, Steve. I’ll just head out, back off.” Eddie smiled through the pain.

“Wait, w_what?” Steve spluttered.

“Yeah, really, no worries. I’ll see you around at work but I’ll give you your space.” Eddie walked over and grabbed up his bag from the floor, throat constricting and eyes burning again. 

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice was small, broken sounding. Eddie forced himself not to look back at him.

“I guess we’ll see who gets what kids now, huh?” Eddie said with a sad chuckle. He turned the knob and started to pull open the door when:

“It was me!”

The silence felt like it went on for hours.

“What are you talking about, Harrington.”

“It was me. It is me. I’m the one leaving you the roses.”

Eddie clicked the door shut, but kept his hand on the knob, facing away from Steve.

“That’s what I meant. I can’t keep it from you anymore. I needed to tell you. And if you’re disappointed that it’s me, I_I understand.” Steve’s voice cracked and Eddie turned to face him.

Eddie’s heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest, it was beating so hard. 

Eddie dropped his bag and slowly walked toward Steve, arms out like he was trying to contain a feral animal. “Steve. Stevie, sweetheart..”

Steve looked like he wanted to jump out the window.

“I’m sorry for lying Eddie, I was so convinced you were going to be disappointed that it was me.”

“Never. I had been hoping it was you since you threw that one to me on stage. Of course, I didn't know it was you then, but you were sneaky weren’t you Big Boy?” Eddie was close enough to reach forward and grab Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together and smiling at him.

A small laugh bubbled out of Steve at that, his cheeks turning pink before his face dropped back into a worried frown.

“What, did you push through the crowd just to throw it and go back to where I knew you were before?”

Steve blushed harder “Well it worked didn’t it?” he laughed, the tension starting to ease from his shoulders.

Eddie laughed along with him. 

“Eddie,” Steve started, leaning into Eddie slightly

“Yes, Steve?” Eddie leaned forward too.

“Can I_can I kiss you?” 

Their faces hovered closer and closer

“Please..” Eddie’s voice was nothing more than a breathless whisper before Steve’s lips met his.

It was pure bliss.

Steve’s free hand coming up to Eddie's side and pulling him flush to his (still bare) chest punched out a soft moan from Eddie.

Steve hummed back and pressed himself closer to Eddie, only to spin them around and push Eddie back onto his bed.

Eddie crawled backwards to lay against the pillows and pulled Steve down on top of him, Steve slotted his hips into the space between Eddie’s legs like he belonged there. 

‘He does, he always will.’ The thought shot through Eddie and he hummed contentedly, his hips grinding up into the weight of Steve’s above him, unrelenting.

Eddie carded his fingers through Steve’s hair as he kissed him, pulling a bit, and causing Steve to groan so deep in his chest that he could feel it reverberate into his. 

Steve’s hands ran down Eddie’s sides, and up under his shirt. Their warmth left trails in their wake as they ran up his stomach, his right stopping to hold at his waist and the other continuing up, the fingers brushing over his only remaining nipple.

Eddie smiled against Steve’s mouth, giddy with what was happening, and also to laugh at the situation as a whole.

Steve felt it and smiled too, pulling back and looking down at Eddie with those beautiful hazel eyes, hair askew, “What?”

Unable to sort through every happy thought that was swirling through his mind at the moment, he decided to go with another observation he had made.

“You quoted the Phantom and Christine, but never Raoul. And you’re definitely Raoul.” Eddie couldn’t stop grinning.

Steve smiled down at Eddie, and what he did next made the grin fall off Eddie’s face, changing to disbelief. And this time, the constricting throat and burning eyes were fully welcomed.

Steve started to sing. 

“Anywhere you go, let me go too.” Steve started leaning down once again, “Love me. That’s all I ask of you.”

Steve kissed Eddie.

And Eddie melted.

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

Epilogue here!

Last round of tagging, here we go! @cutiecusp @maya-custodios-dionach @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @mightbeasleep @bigboyandmetalhead @princess-eddie @ima-ghost-art @starkdusk @infinityonsighhh @lunaraindrop @pluto-pepsi @saramelaniemoon @roonilwazlib-main @eddiemuns0nl0ver @autumnrowancollector @beeing-stuupid @lilfroggies @goggles-mcgee @hagbaby420 @electrick-marionnett @00biscuit @llamaoftheinternet @imnotsureiexist @xthehatchick @kyoxyukiforever @e-dollly @cas7espresso @ilikechocolatemilkh @stevesworldxx @fromapayphone @freddykicksasses @a-bun-danceoflove @augustjustice @werewolfpeterparker @panicatthediaz @stellar-stevie @xstevex-world @2btheanswertothequestion @resident-gay-bitch @suddenlystrange @straight4joekeery @edmunsn @symbioticsimplicity @quevadilla @aringofsalt @sideblogofthcentury @homosexual-having-tea @nightmareglitter @deleataecount

[saffyspirals]

hiii, I just really really like your writing and how you write the characters so I wanted to ask if you could maybe do a little scenario for Inui, Mikey and any other character you want when you draw a little heart on their notebook/arm/hand

If you don’t like the idea it’s totally fine, you can absolutely ignore my request! <3

; with: inui, mikey, baji and draken

; warnings: proofread, but not proofread (you get it?)

; a/n: i wrote headcanons and scenarios for your request; i really liked the idea, hehe! i hope it’s kinda like what you had in mind :)

𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚒

you’d written in inui’s notebook even before you got together.

like, when you studied together after school,

or even during class, when you sat beside one another and you were bored.

he definitely complains about you ‘messing up’ his book, but really, inui literally stares at them for ages when he’s alone at home, thinking about you.

you graduate to writing on his body when you get together.

you’ve always got a pen with you; you guys could literally be watching tv at his house, when you pull a pen from your pocket, take his arm, and draw a little heart on it.

it warms him up inside, really.

whenever you do write on his arm, he actually asks you to do it somewhere along his forearm.

he prefers it there, because it won’t get washed off until he showers; putting it on his hands would mean it’d just go whenever he next had to use the bathroom.

[ + scenario! ]

what has been mere minutes feels like hours. usually, [subject] is something you enjoy, but there’s something about the substitute teacher you have today, that puts a sour spin on your favourite topic.

his boring voice makes you tune out pretty quickly, and you, not wanting to stare off into space for the rest of the lesson, turn to your left to look at your boyfriend, sat beside you.

unlike yourself, inui doesn’t seem bored at all. actually, he looks pretty focused; scribbling down what the teacher says, before looking back up and nodding along to whatever comes out of his mouth. you almost feel bad for nudging his side to get his attention.

almost.

he knows exactly what you want to do. it’d be weird if he didn’t; he had been dating you for a while now, so knowing your habits was a given. he puts his pen down, before giving you his arm, which you softly hold onto, as you begin to draw your signature three hearts on his arm.

inui pays little attention to your process, knowing it would come out good, because of all the practice that you do. you let him go after a bit, then nod for him to have a look at what you’ve done.

his eyes flutter over his arm, picking up on the detail you’d left on his skin. just like he’d expected to see, it has the three hearts you usually draw, but underneath them, lies a small message. it reads;

‘didn’t mean 2 distract ya! sorry + love you <3’

when he turns to look at you again, your head is on the desk. you’re embarrassed, and don’t want him to see the cute face you make when you are, he figures.

smiling, inui rips out a bit of paper from the corner of his page. he writes something down, before sliding it over to you. you take a second to compose yourself, before sitting up again to have a look at what it says.

‘no worries. i love you too.’

𝚋𝚊𝚓𝚒

baji thinks you’re cute.

really, really cute.

the fact that you draw hearts on his hands, and notebooks makes you even cuter in his eyes, honestly!

while he looves it when you draw on his hands, he prefers you doing it in his books

especially the ones he uses often, e.g. his Japanese book

that’s because when he’s trying to study, and he’s just not getting the material,

it’s super uplifting to see your cute hearts, little drawings, and other small notes in the corners of his pages!

it motivates him to work harder!

especially since when he does do a good job, you draw about a million extra hearts, and couple it up with a “good job on that last test, babe!”

[ + scenario! ]

not long after you leave him to his own devices, baji becomes tired of studying. unfortunately for him, you’d had to cut your study date session short; for the next few weeks, your parents wanted you to come home early; punishment for getting detention.

he’s not sure why he finds school work so…intimidating. most students his age managed to write japanese characters just fine. but him? nope, it was such a huge challenge.

after trying a couple more questions, baji shuts his book. he slides it off of his desk onto the floor (just to be dramatic), before going over to his bed. he spends a couple of minutes trying to fall asleep there. normally, it isn’t a difficult task.

today, he can’t do it.

a familiar voice bounces around his mind: ‘don’t give up as soon as i go, okay? i promise you, you’ve got this.’

baji groans, loud enough to alarm his mother, who tells him to, “keep it down in there!” he leaves his bed, retrieves his discarded book, and retakes his seat at his desk.

he flips open his notebook to a fresh page. well, not exactly fresh. his eyes are drawn to the bottom corner of the paper; there lies a bunch of little hearts, stars, and other cutesy drawings. beside all of them, is a little note: ‘good job, keep going!’

your encouragement brings a smile to his face, as well as a huge wave of motivation. baji picks up his pen, and begins to work, much more quickly and efficiently than before.

𝚖𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢

mikey LOVES that you draw hearts on hands. it’s like, your special thing you know?

whenever the ink starts to fade, he’ll come to you immediately, and ask you to redraw them.

i don’t think mikey opens up his notebook very often,

(bc he’s too busy sleeping during class to take any good notes!)

BUT, you drawing cute little hearts and other pictures in it, is like an incentive for him to take a look inside more often,

and make notes that are worthy to be beside your little works of art lolol

ALSO

whenever you guys fight, if it’s a serious one where it can’t be resolved immediately, he’ll make you draw on his hand before you leave.

even if you’re pissed at each other in that moment, it’s a silent reminder that you still love each other, you know?

[ + scenario! ]

only when your eyes become teary, does mikey realise he’s gone too far. you inhale shakily, before wiping a stray tear, and crossing your arms over your chest.

“get out of my house, dude.”

it’s your attempt at jabbing him where it hurts - mikey’s always told you to lay off with calling him by ‘friendly nicknames’ - and it works. he’s unable to stop his eye twitching with annoyance.

“whatever,” he doesn’t put up a fight. but, instead of taking himself out of the living room and towards the front door like you expect, mikey walks towards you, and takes your hand. “draw first.”

your eyes flicker to your connected hands. the hearts you’d drawn on mikey’s hand earlier on in the day had started fading.

you don’t say anything to him, opting to fish out the pen that’s always hanging in your pocket. in silence, you draw your three signature hearts onto his skin; mikey smiles when you do.

“and, can we press pause on our fight for a minute?” he questions, leaning closer. you lean back.

“why?” you ask.

“i wanna kiss.” he answers, attaching your lips before you can give him an answer.

𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗

likes the fact that you draw on his hands and books, but doesn’t ever explicitly tell you.

he knows that you know, it’s obvious. if he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t let you do it!

heavily prefers when you do it on his hands/arms than on his work though

not because he’s concerned that the teacher won’t appreciate the work of art (he wouldn’t care about that anyway),

but because you always leave him a little kiss wherever you draw it.

draken 100% lives for those.

if you draw on his book, usually he’ll say something along the lines of,

“aren’t ya gonna finish the job? draw on my hand too. i don’t want you coming back later to ask.”

cannot hide his little smile when he gets his way.

for both his sake, and yours, do not comment on it.

[ + scenario! ]

after suggesting you hang out somewhere once school is done for the day, draken takes you to a local cafe, ten minutes from your home.

the waitress had taken your order what seems like forever ago, and, after yours and draken’s conversation dies down a little bit, you grow tired of waiting.

��i’m bored.” you complain, resting your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder. draken hums a thoughtful tune, pretending to thinking up something you could do to pass the time.

“draw on my hands, then.”

you hadn’t done it the entire day, and, while draken would never admit it, he’d been looking for an opportunity to ask you to do it, without seeming eager.

“alright, i will!” you agree, retrieving a pen from your bag. draken gives you his dominant hand; you hold it still before drawing your famously good hearts.

upon finishing, you bring his hand up to your lips, and kiss the area you’d drawn on, eyes on him as you do. it’s hard for draken to not get flustered, despite the fact that you’ve done this many times before.

knowing he’d only become irritated, you choose not to comment about it, and smile at him instead.

“don’t you think i deserve a little extra, for putting up with you?” he inquires, eyes flickering briefly to your lips.

it’s hard to keep the tease out of your tone when you tell him, “if you want to kiss me, don’t beat around the bush and just do it.”

not knowing what to respond to that, draken opts to draw his face near yours, and give you the kiss he’s been wanting to take.

[spilledkauffie]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Part 2 of Bingo — a few months later

I am SO SORRY this took me way longer to post than it should have!

Bucky Tag List: @anreeixcobra ❤︎ @tsnelf7 ❤︎ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

It was Friday night, which meant one thing: Game Night. Ever since Yori introduced you at Bingo, you made it a tradition in your relationship to play board games on Fridays. For the most part you kept it to fairly modern games, but tonight was going to be a surprise.

Tonight it was your place, 8 o’clock. Bucky showed up with a six pack of root-beer in glass bottles. You added a few to the fridge as he found his usual seat at your apartment table. He waited for you to round the small apartment’s bar and join him. Sliding the glass bottles across the table to Bucky, you smiled, biting in your bottom lip, as he slid your bottle back, now without its top.

Easily he popped the top off his own bottle with his left hand; it was as he was about to take a sip that he caught sight of your look, “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows, questionably. 

“So. . . tonight,” you tried not to giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked again, this time finding himself following your smile despite his will not to.

“Tonight is going to be special,” you clasped your hands together, “because I found some stuff that’s as old as you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically, taking a sip, shaking his head, blinking softly as he saw you rush to convince him it would be fun. Sighing deeply, he gave in, “alright, what is it?”

“I’ll be right back,” you twirled on your heel and left the room.

Returning to shaking his head and the glass bottle, he paused after settling the bottle on the table. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about anything actually as old as him. He’d been pretty good at keeping up with the times, a lot of things he knew just got an upgrade, but the thought of something from his actual childhood felt a little heartwarming. 

“Okay,” you declared, reentering the room with a stack of vintage boxes in your arms that made Bucky lean back in his chair out of shock, “here we are.” 

His jaw dropped a little at what you had brought out as you set the stack on the table. Watching you take a deep breath and exhale with a smirk, he shook his head, this time silently asking “how?” You set your hands atop the stack, rapping your fingers across the top box as you smiled again. 

Smoothing your hands out across the box top, you cleared your throat, “no peeking,”  bringing Bucky’s attention entirely to you. 

“Option number one,” you held up the rectangular shape with severely faded letters across it, “Scrabble, released 1938.” The box very gently met the table, “option number two,” you looked at him attempting not to giggle as you saw him cross his arms over his chest, genuinely listening to you intently, “Sorry! released 1934, Battleship, original pen and paper game,” you clarified, he lifted his eyebrows, impressed, “and last but not least, Monopoly, released 1935.”

“Wow, you uh- you really did your research,” he commented, looking over the stack of authentically vintage boxes.

“Of course,” you shrugged with a smile, “my boyfriend’s 106, if I want to bring back some childhood nostalgia, that requires some research. . . and late hour ebay bidding in our case.”  

He nodded, a faint smile showing, before it faded with his next words, “I hope you didn’t do too much research on me,” he looked up, hand resting on Monopoly.

You calmly slid down into the seat across from him and stared with a kind smile still on your lips, reaching to touch his hand, you stroked your thumb against his knuckles, “I’m more of a first hand account, direct source, kind of girl when it comes to people,” the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. 

You knew, just not everything, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have another living soul know it all quite yet. Luckily, you were someone who seemed to actually understand that.

“Or,” you announced, lifting a pointer finger, as if requesting a pause whilst you went to a nearby drawer, returning with a much smaller box, “we can get really really old school, even for you” the box met the table top, “standard 52 card deck, English edition, circa 1516. . .obviously not original.”

Bucky chuckled, looking to you, tonguing his cheek, before picking up the cards, “I hate to tell you, but that’s just a little before my time,” he squinted at you, teasingly.

Biting your lip, your shoulders shifted with the giggle that came after his comment, “so, come on,” you sat back down, this time with your elbows on the table and hands laced, to support your resting chin on top of them, “what should I beat your butt in?”

“Oh,” Bucky, attempting to appear insulted, began raising his eyebrows, “you think?”

“Yeah,” you laughed your words while looking at his serious face, “I think, better yet, I know.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your confidence from. You know you are talking to a local senior Bingo night champion,” he shrugged with a head tilt, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

“Woooow,” you drew out, smiling uncontrollably.

“But,” he sighed, “okay,” he shook his head once, accepting your challenge, “let’s go, you’re on! Monopoly,” he brought the box towards himself as you set the others on the floor next to your chair.

You watched as he picked up the little metal pieces, examining each one individually. There was an expression you’d never seen before, he was remembering something positive from his past. A memory that sparked a smile that you helped bring about. He surveyed the board, with all its bright colours and familiar street names.

“It’s been-” he paused, looking upward, doing the math in his head, “it’s been 85 years since I played this game,” setting each piece he stopped at the boat, laughing to himself, “you know, Steve used to always be the battleship.” 

A soft smile came across your lips, while you watched him remember exactly how to set it up. You picked the Scottie dog and he picked the vintage race car piece.

“Were you always the race car?” you ventured, wanting to know more about his childhood, you knew he didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh,” he glanced to the piece he had just naturally picked up without a thought, “yeah, well, I think,” he gave a quick, but somber smile, before clearing his throat, and actually looking up, “and my sister, whenever she’d actually manage to get mom and dad to let her stay up with us, she’d always be the thimble,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling, “whenever it was her turn to move she’d put it on her finger and hop it down the street names.” He leaned back to the table, “we never made her go to jail, even if she landed on it, Steve would make up some rule that let her skip it.” 

“That’s really sweet of you guys,” you said, looking softly at his smile.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “but don’t think you can skip jail,” he changed his tone, preferring not to dwell on the past even if it was positive. 

“Don’t think I’ll be visiting,” you smirk confidently, “better watch out for the money man yourself.” 

“Wow, who is this?” he dropped his jaw, “she’s so sarcastic, does Yori know this side of you? Do you sneak jellybeans under the table or something evil like that?”

Laughing, you took your root-beer, “just give me my $1,500 so the smack down can actually begin.”

Two hours later, after a long battle between Boardwalk, control over the railroads, and many, many visits to jail, you sat back, lips quirked, arms across your chest as your little Scottie sat in jail.

“And three thousand, six hundred, and five. . . I’m sorry, but that leaves you,” Bucky set his elbows on the table, wincing at you, “bankrupt.”

“Fine,” you huffed jokingly, giving your best pout,“you win.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Bucky reached out a hand to touch your forearm comfortingly, accompanied by a smile you couldn’t deny.

“You wanna go again?” You offered seriously, resting your hand on top of his tenderly, happy to see him so happy.

“It was really fun, but let’s play something else, this time you pick,” he offered.

Breaking into a smile, you gave a nod, and he asked what you had in mind. It took a moment, you wanted to make this good, and you wanted to see it be a little more of a struggle for him, if you were honest. 

“You know, I know it’s later than your. . .original timeline, but there’s this fantastic game called Twister,” you smirked, perking an eyebrow to ask if he was up for it. 

“Twister?” He repeated you, tilting his head like a confused puppy, “what’s Twister?”

“I’ll show you, but,” you glanced over to your small apartment living room, “we might need to arrange the furniture a little.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky stood, “I can handle that.” 

Smiling, you stand, “okay, just push it all to one side, I’ll get the game.” 

Ten minutes later, shoeless, you both stood looking over the polka dotted sheet on the floor. Nodding happily to yourself, Bucky shook his head almost in fear. 

“Make sense?” You asked, having just explained the very simple rules, you turned to face him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked,” he sighed, shouldering off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch along with his glove, “yeah, it makes sense,” he set his hands on his hips, pondering this new game intently. 

“Okay, you first,” you held up the spinning arrow, and began.

One hand and foot at a time, sometimes struggling to reach the spinner, but you both made it work pretty well. Having kept to one side of the sheet, it came time to get a smidge more twisted.

Bucky managed to keep balanced and spin a green dot with his left arm, conveniently it placed him right over you. As he began to reach for green, he carefully calculated how best to approach the green dot in order to keep his balance. It was a pretty far reach and he’d need to balance himself whilst reaching over you. 

“What’s the matter old man, can’t quite move like you used to?” you shamelessly giggled. 

Raising his eyebrows at your tone, “ohhh, wow,” Bucky said sincerely, finally placing his left arm over you and to a green dot, now above you he tilted his head sassily, “respect your elders.”

His last sentence only made your giggle turn into a genuine laugh. You closed your eyes and threw your head back a little. Admittedly, Bucky thought it was funny too, but he didn’t laugh, he just took in your smile and the sound of your laugh, enjoying every single moment of it.

When you brought your head back up, you were about to respond sassily, but instead you found his lips meeting yours. With a small squeak of surprise, you relaxed into the kiss, glad that he was finally confident enough with you to take a chance now and then. He tasted like vanilla root beer, which mixed wonderfully with the scent of his cologne you were finally close enough to smell. 

It was soft and slow at first, but slowly, with his right hand palming the arch of your back, you eased into his touch, lower back almost meeting the floor as you both sunk down a little. You completely forgot about the game, as you reached your arms around his neck gently. Keeping the kiss close, you felt him hesitate to deepen it, so you gave him a small sign of encouragement, by moving your hand to the side of his neck, naturally bringing him even closer. 

You had no idea how long you’d been there, on that polka dot sheet, but it was such bliss that you didn’t even care. Smiling into the kiss, you felt him smile back. 

Parting, he pressed his forehead to yours, “I win,” he whispered, lips in a smile. 

“What?” was all you could ask, still mesmerised by the kiss. 

Bucky motioned his head to his left arm which happened to have been keeping the two of you steady. . . all the while remaining on the green dot. You dropped your arms from around his neck, to the floor, elbows supporting you as you looked up at him, shaking your head. 

“That does not count, Bucky,” you tried not to smile as he kept his arm as still as possible.

“What? But my hand’s still on green,” he dramatically gestured to it, making you bite your lip to repress a giggle, trying to match his seriousness.

Shoving his chest directly above you, he feigned an ‘ow!’ before you softly pull him closer again.

“If I kiss you are you gonna hit me again?”

You smirk, “I might if you don’t.” 

Bucky smiled, lips almost touching yours, “alright, sorry,” he smiled, voice almost a whisper as his lips brushed against yours, “I’m still learning the rules to this game.”

[horrorlove14]

Heartfelt Flowers and Books - Lies of P

Pairing: Pinocchio x Violet (OC)

Plot: Pinocchio has everything that he ever wants in his life but feels that he is missing something. He fills the empty void by laying his eyes on a certain girl working in a bookshop and flower shop who turns his life upside down.

Chapter 1: First Meeting

Violet POV

I'm busy at the flower shop, creating a flower bouquet for a regular customer named Geppetto who is a widower single father to his only child and son named Pinocchio whom I haven't met in person due to him attending a private boarding school during my life but he does talk about him a lot which made me very interested.

Geppetto is a humble wealthy man who made his money as an inventor by creating mechanical puppets for theme parks and technology companies around the world.

He and his late wife had their son, Pinocchio at a late age when she end up passing away during childbirth due to her body being psychically unable to handle it as she had a difficult and high risk pregnancy.

My family and I always saw him as a grandfather figure whenever he visited the flower shop and bookshop.

I would love to meet Pinocchio and befriend him because I've been told a lot of good things about him.

After Geppetto has paid for his bouquet and left to go visit his late wife's grave at the local cemetery.

I proceed to do some cleaning before my shift ends so I could go to the bookshop to help my dad out since my mum is busy managing the flowershop, one brother is in university and the other one is at school.

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

Pinocchio POV

I make my way to a nearby bookshop after a long day of boring long lectures at university.

I enter the shop and browse through the book shelves to see the kind of book they have.

A female voice call out to me to welcome me so I turn around to see a beautiful girl at the cash register who is waving at me with a smile on her face.

I decide to walk over towards her to introduce myself to her.

"Hello stranger, I don't believe that we met before. What's your name? I'm Pinocchio." I said with a soft smile on my face.

"O-Oh, my name is Violet and you must be Geppetto's son, correct." she said with a nervous tone in her voice.

"Indeed, I am. Is my father a regular customer of yours here?" I asked as I see her freckled face blush as she seemed quite flustered which I find pretty cute.

"Indeed, he's also a regular at my mum's flowershop as he frequently buys flowers for your late mother," she said with a sad smile before asking me if I needed help with anything.

I reply that I do and I wondering if the shop has a certain rare that I'm looking for which she replies with a yes before running into the back of the shop to fetch it.

A few minutes later, she returned with the book in hand before handing it over to me. I paid for it before she handed me a piece of paper.

"I-I would like to meet you again, Pinocchio so I'm giving you my contact info in that piece of paper in your hand." she says with a nervous smile as she is blushing once again before we said our goodbyes.

As I'm making my way back home, I find myself smiling because it seems like Violet has made her way into my mind and I can't stop thinking about her because she has the most beautiful shade of amber brown eyes, beautiful flower tattoos adorned on her forearms and how her round glasses and freckles compliment her beautiful face so well.

I look forward to meeting her again and get to know her by contacting her once I get home.

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

End of chapter 1 and stay tuned for chapter 2. Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated.

[likeastarstar]

Invisible String Pt.2

Part One

(A/N: read part one before this part if you haven't already so it'll make sense!)

masterlist.

Jungkook interested you, so you kissed him.

"I don't normally do this," You promised, feeling breathless as Jungkook kissed his way down your jaw to your neck.

"Same," Jungkook nodded urgently, barely processing what you said in favor for tugging you by the waist so that you were straddling him in the back of the cab he had called for the two of you. He said he just didn't want to leave you stranded at the club, that he'd see you home. But one thing led to another and you were currently praying the cab driver didn't yell at you.

Jungkook's hands were everywhere, rubbing at exposed skin, grazing through your hair, flattening against the small of your back. He rocked your hips back and forth against his lap, frowning again in concentration. Shit- he was really hot.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, wondering what he looked like under his leather jacket. He felt so solid under your touch, like he belongs there. You dragged your other hand through his hair, pushing it back and off his forehead. He keened under your touch, smiling slightly while his eyes fluttered closed as your nails dug into his scalp lightly. You reached the nape of his neck and tugged on Jungkook's hair so that he was looking up at you in his lap, eyes snapping open in sharp attention.

Jungkook's lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something before-

"First stop." The cab driver interrupted, making you jump slightly as the car came to a screeching halt in front of your apartment complex.

You would've asked him to come inside- except that Jungkook practically pushed you out of the car with a fleeting reminder about the money you still owed him. Ouch. You had clearly completely misread the situation, but that didn't stop you from thinking about Jungkook from that moment on.

You looked for him everywhere, scanning crowds on your daily commute, lingering at the same crosswalk you had met him at. Your eyes stayed glued to the floor when you boarded the bus on your way home most days, trying to catch a glimpse of those black boots.

The next time you did see him was three weeks later, at a gaming cafe, of all places.

"No, no, no- NO!" You whispered, scoffing in disbelief as you lost for the third time that night.

This was not normal for you- loosing, that is. You blamed it on the other abnormality of your current situation: being in a gaming cafe. Normally, you'd be playing LoL in the comfort of your own home sans-pants. But one overly excited moment and a mug of tea placed too closely to your set up and boom- no computer for you. At least while it's in repair.

"You're very dramatic," A voice said next to you, snapping you out of your spiral.

You frowned and looked over to whoever was next to you, locking eyes on Jungkook, who was currently slurping down noodles like someone was going to take them from him. You shrieked in surprise, the two of you jumping in your chairs at the same moment. "Are you stalking me?" You whisper-yelled, leaning away from him.

"No," He snapped, talking with his mouth full. "I got here two hours before you, I just didn't feel like saying hi until now. I could ask you the same question."

You watched him eat in awe, trying not to fixate on the way his tongue looked snaking out to lick his lips every now and then. There had been too many coincidental run-ins between the two of you for this not to be fate. You shook your head, throwing the incredibly stupid thought out of your head.

"Anyway, good thing I ran into you," You shrugged, choosing to ignore the fact that the last time you had seen him, you were rubbing your pussy all over his lap. "I have something for you."

He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, waiting expectantly as you dug around in your bag for a moment. You found what you were looking for, a small keychain of a skeletal hand in the same positioning as the tattoo on his forearm. "I saw it and thought of you, so I got it for you. Here, rock on." You explained, handing it to him.

He laughed slightly, taking it from you gingerly and inspecting it closely. "My tattoo means I love you, not rock on." He pointed out, pulling out his keys and putting the token on the loop.

There was a warm feeling in your chest knowing he was actually going to use it, one that only grew when you noticed the slight blush on his cheeks, "Yeah, well, the keychain means rock on." You quipped, "Do you like it or not?"

"I do," He said quickly, holding up his keys with a bright smile. You sent one back to him, beaming so hard your cheeks hurt. "Thank you."

At this point, neither Jungkook or you ever made plans to see each other. You knew it would just happen on its own. Which is exactly what happened a month later, on what could only be called the worst day of your life.

Things hadn't been going your way for a very, very long time. You usually had pretty good luck, but suddenly it was like the universe had forsaken you altogether. After a particularly terrible blind date, you had had enough- no more dating. This guy was all kinds of awful, he didn't laugh at any of your jokes, he had a terrible taste in music- he even wore the wrong clothes. He had loafers on- loafers. God, Jungkook would never wear those.

Instead of wallowing in a ruined night, you did what any struggling girl boss would do- you got yourself dessert.

You walked to the nearest 24 hour diner, pushing the doors open quickly. There was barely anyone here, thankfully. It was the perfect place to be alone.

Except that two seconds after you sat down in a quiet booth next to a window, Jungkook came marching up to your table. He was wearing a color other than black- this time it was a patterned buttoned down shirt and loose fitting trousers. You couldn't see his shoes, but that wasn't really what you were focused on at the moment. No, instead you could only stare at his latest haircut, cropped short on the sides and parted neatly. Who was this guy and what did he do to your fluffy headed soulmate?

"Are you sure you're not stalking me?" You asked calmly, at this point you were completely unsurprised to see him popping up at the most random times.

"I saw you from the window on my way home and figured I'd say hi," He shrugged, sliding into the booth beside you, immediately tossing his phone haphazardly onto the table. "Although I'm beginning to think you're a figment of my imagination. It's bizarre how you just keep...appearing."

"You're telling me," You snorted, resting your chin on your hand propped up on the table. "But I'm not sure if you'd be able to kiss a figment of your imagination."

Jungkook blushed deeply and you laughed for the first time that day. He was just so easy to mess with. Jungkook pouted childishly and stole your menu, burying his face in it.

"We did a little more than a kiss in that cab," He said in a whiny voice, "It's pretty late, why are you at a diner at one in the morning?"

"Nothing, bad day." You mumbled, "I needed pie."

"Valid reasoning," He said pensively, "You look nice, by the way. I like your earrings, they match mine."

You looked at the chain looping through his double piercings, realizing he was right- you had a similar version in your own ears. Weird. You didn't get a chance to return the compliment before the waitress came over and Jungkook ordered literally every kind of pie on their very extensive menu and two coffees.

"If pie will make you happy we might as well go all out." He reasoned, only noticing your outraged face when the waitress left. "Anyway, I got you something."

He dug around the backpack he has dumped in the booth beside him when he got here, pulling out a flash drive with a a tiny keychain of a butterfly connected to it.

"I don't know if I've never mentioned this before, but I'm a musician." He explained, holding it out to you. "This has my latest stuff on it. Nothing fancy, just wanted you to listen before I send it off to my label. Plus, the keychain reminded me of you."

You took it from him slowly, holding it as if it were worth a million dollars- which to you, it was.

"Sometimes I think I dreamt you up," You mumbled, still staring at the flash drive. You couldn't wait to listen to it, to hear his velvet tone and silvery vocals whenever you wanted. This was the first, tangible thing that connected him to you, a reminder that even if the universe hated you right now- at least Jungkook was in it.

"Touch me and see," He offered, leaning back in his seat with a small smirk on his face.

Your eyes flicked back to him, a dare written across his features and a thread pulling at your heart. You leaned forward, a smirk of your own on your face until his phone buzzed, interrupting the heated moment.

You weren't trying to be nosey, but the bright light of the screen caught your eye and you glanced at it quickly. It was a text from someone, their contact saved under a series of hearts and one word: wifey.

Wait- his what?

TO BE CONTINUED...PART THREE

(A/N: MUAHAHAA! If you've made it to the end, thank you, I love you, I'm sorry. Next part is the last part, as always feedback is so so appreciated! Send me an ask goddamnit!)

[shorkbrian]

THIS ISNT AN ASK I JUST GOT INSPIRED LOOKING AT YOUR TINGSSS; (Prohero) Yan Kiri responding to his (kidnapped) darlings' birthday request: Just do what they say for the day. Darling had to suck dick LONG AND HARD for this very special birthday wish, and spends the day dancing around the garden in a dress that they FINALLY got to choose themselves (the longest one they own) with gorgeous, full coverage underwear on. (1/2)

“This isn't an ask” then why it in my ask box hoe (Lolol I’m sorry I write what I see hope u don’t mind)

(What to expect - Cunnilingous, dubcon, noncon, NSFW, sexy birthday gift)

Yes you had to suck his dick, not to be allowed to wear the dress (Kirishima’s a sucker, and he likes seeing his baby in pretty little dresses that make them look all innocent), but to have him promise to not pin and fuck you the second she put it on (or at any point during your special day, just one day without sex, please? ur pussy needs a mf break)

Because it’s your birthday, Kirishima lets you order a dress online, sat in his lap of course, while he offers feedback.

“That one’s pretty.”

“Oo, you’d look so gorgeous in that color, you should get that one!”

“Eh, this one doesn’t seem like you, let’s look at a different one babe.”

“This is cute, but don’t you think it’s a little long? You might trip.”

His advice was unwarranted and mostly unwanted, hands distracting you by playing with your hair, kissing at your exposed shoulder while you scrolled through the options.

You finally decided on a dress, begging Kirishima to allow you to buy underwear as well to go with it. Kiri got excited for a second, and of course said yes, only to get confused and laugh when you added comfortable, un-sexy underwear to the cart.

But a promise is a promise, so everything gets purchased.

And the morning of your birthday, you get presented with the dress, the underwear, and breakfast in bed, which is slightly burnt, but the effort is somewhat appreciated.

Kirishima doesn’t bother you when you head to the shower (usually he follows you everywhere like an oversized puppy, and showers are never completed without his wandering hands and wet kisses), just smiles at you forlornly as he keeps his end of the “no touching” agreement for the day.

He doesn’t make you sit in his lap, or even next to him while you eat your breakfast in bed.

You don’t have his hands constantly touching you, wrapped around your waist, heavy on your shoulder, playing with your hair or skimming along your thigh.

Kirishima’s taken the day off, just so he can spend it with you, and he’s so glad. You’re laughing at his stupid jokes, you seem comfortable and relaxed, cheeks rosy, eyes bright, and the man has never been so in love.

It’s obvious that he’s struggling to hold himself back from grabbing you - his fingers itch, his smile is strained, he can’t stop staring at you in that dress. But he had promised, and you took advantage of that.

Flouncing around his bulky form, swishing your dress, giving an enthusiastic twirl that maybe showed off a bit more of your legs than was considered modest.

Teasing him about the slight bulge in his pants that appeared after a little bit of flirting, feeling safe because he wasn’t allowed to touch you.

You were shameless about the flirting too, a sort of confidence filling you and making you giggly and feel light, even though you weren’t exactly fond of the man you were flirting with on account of all the things he had done to you. 

Kiri tried to convince you to stop, joking along with you at first but then quickly growing serious as you amped up your playful seductiveness, feeling powerful and in control because he couldn’t touch you no matter what.

His words were ignored, and you continued to live your best life, dancing around, licking food off of your finger with a mean smile, letting out little breathy moans whenever you stretched.

And the best part? Kirishima just had to sit there and take it. Just like he had forced you to accept his affection, you now forced him to accept the fact that you were wholly in reach, but absolutely off-limits.

That evening, you get ushered out to the garden, which Kirishima had “decorated” for you.

Technically, it was your garden, something for you to work on and occupy yourself with while Kirishima was off working. It wasn’t much, but you’d done your best with taking care of the plants.

Kiri had hung little twinkly lights in the trees, stringing them between the branches. He had set up a little table underneath the lights, a small cake, a bouquet of flowers, a few candles here and there.

It was romantic, and your heart swelled at the sight. In any other situation, this would be the absolute best birthday in the entire world. But today you wanted to be happy, so you didn’t think about all the reasons for why it wasn’t.

The two of you sat and ate cake, Kirishima recounting how many times he’d gotten cake slapped in his face by trying to surprise Bakugou on his birthday. You laughed, almost choking on cake, which made you laugh harder at the ungodly noise that left your throat.

You talked about your garden, animatedly gesturing to the various plants, explaining how you took care of them and what you still needed to work on. Kirishima listened intently, smiling at you.

He interrupted you in the middle of a story about your life growing up, holding a bite of cake towards you on his fork. Without thinking (he had been very insistent at first that he hand-feed you), you leaned across the table, opening your mouth and accepting the food.

You made eye contact, Kirishima’s eyes flicking down to your mouth, the way your lips stretched around the fork, the pink of your tongue as it accepted the bite. A moan was uttered, a smile teasing your lips as you licked at the frosting around your lips, bringing a thumb up to swipe it clean, sucking the digit into your mouth while moaning about how good it tastes.

And then Kirishima was breathing hard, red eyes locked on your own, calmly putting down his fork.

You immediately recognized what was going on, started rising from your seat the same time Kiri rose from his, holding your hands out and reminding the man of his promise. 

But he was done, you’d teased him all day. Enough was enough.

He grabbed your arm before you could even think about moving away, jerking you to him to capture your lips in a heated kiss, tasting the subtle hint of sweetness on your tongue.

As soon as he pulled away, you were admonishing him, saying he promised, telling him to stop touching you, he’s such a jerk.

But he had a one-track mind, picking you up to settle your weight in one hand, forearm under your rear as he cleared a space on the table quickly.

Then you were getting sat down on top of it, Kiri sitting back down in his chair as he pulled your hips to edge, quickly rucking up your dress.

“Kirishima! You-you promised! Stop, you said you wouldn't!” You cried, trying to push his hands away, push his head back, stop him from revealing your underwear, but he was determined.

“Sorry baby, I just can’t help myself.” Was the offered explanation while he pulled down your underwear, managing to get it off one of your kicking legs before giving up and letting it dangle off of one ankle.

He hunched over immediately, large hands gripping and angling your hips up so he could reach your pussy, licking over it messily. There was no technique, no rhythm, the man just wanted to taste you, practically drooling over your cunt.

You cried out, hands pulling at his hair, making him grunt, but he couldn’t be moved from between your plush thighs.

“You said-ah! Don’t Kiri-” You whined, resigning yourself to the fact that he wasn’t going to let up. “It’s my birthday, I-I didn’t want you touching me....”

Kirishima pulled back a little, brows furrowed. He reached over to the cake, your eyes following his hand as he scooped up a glob of frosting.

No, he wouldn’t-

He would.

“No!” You yelped, but his grip on your hip was firm as he slapped the handful of frosting onto your cunt. You keened at the odd sensation, the cool frosting quickly being heated by your warm skin, beginning to melt.

“Birthday girl, you’re all messy, gotta clean you up-” The man breathed, diving back down the suck at your skin, tongue enthusiastically licking up the frosting, your juices with it.

All you could do was cry.

He ate you out until the frosting was cleaned from you cunt, until your skin was shiny and slick with spit and your own creamy juices. By the time he seemed satisfied, you were shaking, thighs bracketing his hand while they trembled and convulsed at each eager lave of his tongue over your swollen slit.

It began raining, the soft pitter-patter droplets easily hiding the streaking of tears down your face.

Kirishima didn’t seem too phased, merely standing, pulling you into his arms and striding towards the door.

You could see the little area Kirishima had set up for your birthday, lights beginning to drop out of trees from the wind, the cake getting ruined by the elements, the scene quickly dissolving into a mess.

And Kirishima had barely gotten started with you.

[lauras-collection]

✮ electric love | part 2 ✮

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader | fwb!roommates au

|| Masterlist || Series Masterlist ||

Summary: Living with your best friends Tom and Harrison is all fun and games until one drunken night alone with Harrison, you give in to your attraction to him. You tell yourself you should leave it at that, forget about the night you spent with him and move on to not ruin your friendship, but neither of you can stay away from each other. So without considering the possible consequences, you make a deal. But how are you supposed to keep your shenanigans from Tom? And how are you supposed to not break the number one rule of an arrangement like this: do not fall in love.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ [fingering, protected sex, riding], a smidge of angst, reader and Haz being horny idiots again, but this time sober. 

A/N: For the record, I know pubs aren’t usually open that long, but my favourite Irish pub in Brighton is open until 4am on the weekends. so I imagine Tom working there :D 

Hope you like it!! 

Feedback is always appreciated ❤️

It’s still dark out when you wake up, and it takes you a few seconds to realise where you are. You blink a couple of times and when the coffee table still littered with cans and empty bags of crisps comes into view, the evening before comes back to you, and you realise that Harrison is still laying behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist. 

Panic starts to creep up your spine, and suddenly you feel like you’re trapped. You sit up quickly, not even bothering if it wakes Harrison up. The blanket falls from your frame, and you realise you’re still naked. 

This can’t be happening. 

You pull the blanket back up to cover yourself as Harrison starts mumbling incoherently. Patting the coffee table, you try to find a phone, you don’t care if it’s yours or Harrison’s, you just need to know what time it is. 

“What’s going on?” Harrison asks, rubbing his eyes as you finally feel the sleek surface of a phone display underneath your fingertips. You lift it up to see the time, it’s just after four in the morning, and if you were slightly panicked before, it’s kicking into high gear now. Tom will be back any moment, and there’s no way you’ll let him walk in on this if you can prevent it.

“We fell asleep.” You stand up, dragging the blanket off of Harrison’s body, but he doesn’t seem to mind. For a moment, you’re distracted by the sight of him in his boxers. His pecs and abs illuminated by the moon shining into the window. With a small shake of your head, you turn around and start to scramble your clothes together. “Tom will be back soon, we need to get out of here.”

Harrison finally gets moving and, for a while, all you’re able to hear is the two of you shuffling around and your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You rack your brain as to how to handle this situation, what to say to him. 

You’re still standing there, the blanket wrapped around you, as Harrison pulls on his sweatpants, his shirt hanging over his shoulder.

And then you just stare at each other for a long moment.

“I’ll just—“

“So do we—“

You both start talking at the same time, the air around you filled with awkward tension. And you hate it. You can already feel a headache coming on, and you want to just fall asleep and forget what happened. 

Not that it was bad, that’s not it at all. It was amazing. But you don’t want this to change anything between you and Harrison. You love your friendship the way it is, you won’t risk ruining it with sex. Except… maybe you’ve already done that.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” You mumble, and without waiting for a reply, you dash towards your room and quickly close the door behind you. 

You let out a deep breath before getting rid of the blanket and finally putting your clothes back on. You know that you need to get some sleep to counteract this hangover, but there’s no way you’ll be able to. 

You feel disgusting, you’re covered in dried sweat, Harrison’s scent is all over you, and it does nothing to ease your anxiety. You contemplate taking a shower, but when you hear the front door close softly, followed by Tom’s footsteps moving around the flat, you know that will have to wait until the morning. 

It’s been a week since you slept with Harrison and you can’t stop thinking about him. While you caught yourself fantasising about him every now and then before you crossed the line, now you know what it feels like to be touched by him. To be completely consumed by him. And with every day that passes you crave his touch even more.

Getting a taste of him did nothing to soothe your longing for him. On the contrary, it made it worse. So now whenever he’s close, whether that be him waiting for his toast to pop out of the toaster while you’re making a tea, or him sitting next to you on the sofa, your mind goes places it shouldn’t while thinking about one of your best friends. 

It’s frustrating. You don’t have the time or the energy to find someone to hook up with to fuck Harrison out of your system. That’s probably what got you into this predicament in the first place, to be honest.

And the fact you still hadn’t really talked about what happened was eating away at you. There just hadn’t been the right time to bring it up. It’s been a stressful week for both of you with work and uni assignments, and if you had a few hours of spare time Tom was always around. You couldn’t just say ‘Hey Harrison can we talk about that thing that happened?’ Without Tom getting suspicious. And the last thing you wanted was him finding out that you and Harrison had sex on the sofa while he was at work.

It isn’t really awkward between you two. You still act normal around each other, it’s almost like nothing changed if it wasn’t for that underlying tension that always fills the air when you’re alone with him. 

You delete the last paragraph you’d written for your essay with a groan. It didn’t make any sense anyway. Taking an English Lit class for extra credit sounded good when you first started the semester because with Harrison being an English Lit major you had someone you could ask for help right here living with you. 

The irony of your situation makes you laugh. You contemplate quitting the class altogether, but there are only a few weeks left in the semester and all of your work so far would’ve been for nothing. 

So you push all your confusing feelings to the side, close your laptop and pick it up. You don’t have to look far to find Harrison. He’s sitting in the living room, feet on the coffee table while scrolling through his phone. 

He looks up when you let yourself fall next to him on the couch. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile and he locks his phone as he turns his body to you.

“What’s up?” 

This is the first time you actively search out Harrison’s company since that night and you feel a little guilty that you’re doing it because you need his help.

“Can you help me with my essay?” You give him your best puppy dog eyes. “It’s for English Lit and everything I write seems dumb.” 

The look in Harrison’s eyes gets a little softer as he nods his head.

“I’m sure it’s not dumb” He reassures you “Let’s see what you’ve got” He reaches his hand out for your laptop and you give it to him after unlocking it. His eyes flit over the screen as he reads over the measly excuse of an essay you’ve written. You can’t help but think how pretty his profile is. 

“When’s it due?” He asks casually and you have a feeling he won’t like your answer.

You glance at the time on your laptop display, almost ten at night. “In two hours?” you press your lips together as Harrison’s head whirls over to you.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you ask for help sooner?” 

You obviously can’t answer that question honestly, so you shrug your shoulders and say, “I wanted to do it on my own, but I’m incompetent so it didn’t work” 

“You’re not incompetent!” He insists. “Look, what you’ve got so far is pretty solid, we just need to build on it.” His fingers fly over the keyboard as he starts to work on your essay. 

As he types, he explains what he’s doing and occasionally asks a question. And an hour later your essay is ready to be handed in. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say after you successfully sent the essay to your professor. 

“Don’t mention it” He places his hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze and your breath catches in your throat. Images of the night you spent with Harrison start flashing through your mind as your eyes lock with his. He looks as taken aback as you feel, but neither of you dares to move. 

The warmth of his hand is burning into your skin and you hate that just one touch from Harrison is enough to get you so worked up. 

You clench your thighs together subconsciously and when Harrison's eyes leave yours for a second you know he noticed. The air around you is tense, thick with anticipation as his hand slowly moves up your leg. His eyes are boring into yours and you try your best to keep calm but your breathing is already heavy. 

You don’t dare to say anything. As unsure as you are about what Harrison is thinking right now, you don’t want to ruin this moment.

His hand slowly moves further up your leg until his fingertips reach the hem of your shorts, then he pauses. Your heart is beating out of your chest and you know he’s giving you the time to say something. To tell him to stop. But you don’t want him to stop. 

Biting your lip you give him an almost imperceptible nod and then his fingers slip under the fabric. You spread your legs a little allowing him to move closer to your heat and when his fingertips brush against your panties both of you take in a sharp breath.

“You’re soaking,” Harrison whispers, almost in awe.

“Been thinking about the other night a lot.” You say and lift your leg that’s closer to him until it’s laying on top of his, giving him more access. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his thumb gingerly pressing against your covered clit. “Me too”  

A moan falls from your lips and you reach out your hand to grab his forearm. Harrison stops his movements for a moment until you squeeze his arm.

“Keep going” Your voice is already hoarse, the pulsing between your legs almost unbearable. Harrison licks his lips, then gently moves your underwear to the side. And then his fingers are moving through your slick folds.

You throw your head back with a groan. You’ve been dreaming about his touch for the past week and there was nothing you could do to satisfy that craving. Nothing but being touched by Harrison again. 

“That feel good?” Harrison murmurs and places a kiss on your shoulder.

“So good” you breathe, you’re hot, your blood rushing through your veins and you can already feel beads of sweat starting to build on your forehead. “More” You mewl, tightening your grip on his arm.

Harrison hums and then you feel him entering you with his fingers, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit and it’s almost enough to make you cum right then and there. 

Harrison starts slowly moving in and out of you, his fingers slightly crooked, looking for that one spot. When you let out a moan and dig your fingers deeper into his forearm he knows he found it and continues to rub against it. 

Your whole body is covered in goosebumps, your muscles tense as you throw your head back and lift your hips in an attempt to get closer to him. Harrison starts trailing kisses up your shoulder and neck and when he starts sucking on your sweet spot there, you’re a goner. Your pussy starts clenching around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you. You barely make out Harrison humming against your skin. 

When you come down from your high, Harrison’s fingers are still inside you, moving ever so slowly as to not overstimulate you. You’re a long way from overstimulation though.   

“Need you” You press out between groans, while you enjoy Harrison’s kisses and his fingers pleasuring you, it’s not nearly enough. 

Harrison removes his hand and you find yourself pouting, but then he lifts his hand, your arousal shining on his fingers along with his ring. And then he puts them in his mouth, licking them clean with a hum, his eyes fixed on you and it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Let’s take this somewhere else.” He whispers against your skin before scooping you up. You let out a small squeal and wrap yourself around him tighter. “Your place or mine?” His hot breath hits your ear and while waiting for your answer he trails some more kisses on your neck.

“I don’t care.” you manage to say and moments later Harrison kicks a door shut with his foot and lays you down. You’re surrounded by dark blue bedsheets and Harrison’s scent. Without any hesitation, Harrison gets back to covering your neck with kisses. His hands moving under your shirt pushing the fabric up your body. With one swift movement, you get rid of the shirt, now laying in front of him in your bra and shorts.

The way Harrison is looking at you makes shivers run down your spine. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, Y/N,” Harrison mumbles, his fingertips trailing over your newly exposed skin. Arching your back, you push yourself closer to him, your need to feel him reaching a new high. 

As soon as Harrison’s taken off his shirt, you run your hands over his toned torso until you reach the waistband of his grey sweatpants. He tenses for a second and lets out a shuddering breath when you tease your fingers under the fabric. You need to bite your lip to keep in the giggle that’s threatening to fall from your lips at his reaction. You never thought he’d be this responsive to your touch. 

While Harrison leans down to nip at the soft skin of your neck and collarbones you reach into his boxers and wrap your hand around his cock. Harrison lets out a low groan, his hot breath hitting your skin.

He’s hard and heavy in your hand, and the thought of him inside of you again makes warmth pool between your legs. Harrison curses when you slowly start to stroke him. He rests his forehead against your shoulder as if to collect himself, his soft curls tickling your skin. 

And then he lifts himself up enough so he can look at you, his eyes dark. 

“You sure about this?” A tiny voice in your head is aware that sleeping with Harrison again, this time sober, is crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed. But haven’t you already crossed that line last week when you told him to fuck you? Right now, you don’t want to think about that, though. All you want is him.

Your mind is quickly distracted from all of these thoughts when you take in the sight of Harrison on top of you, and you nod eagerly.

“Yes. I need you.” As if to emphasise your words you tighten your hand around him a bit, making Harrison groan.

“Fuck” 

You let go of his cock and place your hands on his chest “Are you sure about this?” As much as you want this right now, you won’t do anything he isn’t willing to do. You don’t want him to feel pressured just because you need a release, and you need it from him.

“Yes. Fuck yes. Just… gimme a second or I’ll cum way too soon” He lets out a strained laugh and you can’t help but chuckle as well. While Harrison hovers above you, you bury your hands in his hair, slightly scratching his skull with your fingertips, causing him to let out a low moan. It’s not the first time you’re doing this. Whenever you feel like he’s stressed or upset about something it’s a sure way to make him feel better.

“I love it when you do that.” He hums before leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

He starts placing kisses on your neck, his hands moving back between your legs. Your hips buck up the moment his fingers touch your clit. 

“I think a second is over” You pant out while he draws lazy circles on your sensitive bud. You can already feel the coil in your stomach tightening again. 

Harrison lets out a laugh before pulling his hands away to take off your shorts.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to completely undress and him to put on a condom and then he’s positioned between your legs.

You run your hands over his arms, his biceps bulging as he hovers over you. Has he always been this muscular? 

You have no time to further think about that because in the next moment he’s placing his hand on the back of your knee, spreading your legs wider before lining up his cock and pushing into you. 

You throw your head back at the feeling of finally being filled again, digging your fingertips into his back as he bottoms out. 

“You feel so good.” He murmurs and then starts rolling his hips into you. One of his hands is holding your hip as he picks up his pace. 

“Fuck, I love your cock.” You mewl out, causing Harrison to chuckle darkly.

“I know you do. The way your pussy was dripping just at the thought of it spoke for itself” 

Your walls tighten around him at his words and you arch your back, spreading your legs further. 

“I wanna ride you.” You say, and it only takes Harrison a few seconds to react. He pulls out of you and easily rolls over so you’re on top of him.

Harrison’s hands are on your hips, helping you balance as you sink down onto him, before moving to your waist as you try to find the best angle for yourself.  

You gasp when the head of his cock strokes a particularly sensitive spot and, just like last time, your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Harrison. His face breaks out into a smile and his hands cup your breasts, playing with your nipples. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you groan.

You feel the tingling sensation start to spread through your body, getting more intense with each of your thrusts.

“I’m close” 

“Yeah? Need me to make you cum?” He has the nerve to smirk up at you, his curls falling into his flushed face. You can’t help but notice how beautiful he is like this. He would be even more beautiful if he wasn’t being such a tease right now, though. 

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it” You grind out. It’s not like you couldn’t take matters into your own hands (literally) but you know Harrison is able to take you there. If he can do it drunk he shouldn’t have a problem sober. Hell, he did it earlier on the couch. And you’re going to take advantage of someone else making you cum for a change. Who knows when you’re going to get the chance again? 

“I’d love to watch you make yourself cum while riding my dick, though.” He grins. When you glare at him he bites his lip and returns his hands to your hips. “Maybe another time.” 

And then he tightens his grip on you, holding you in place as he starts thrusting up into you, still at the perfect angle. You have to place your hands on his chest to support yourself as he pumps into you, your tits bouncing with every movement and then suddenly he wraps his lips around one of your nipples.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, you’re only seconds from finally being pushed over the edge. And then his finger finds your clit and you’re done for. 

Words that don’t even make sense fall from your lips and you just barely notice Harrison’s words.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy like that. Coming around my cock.” His words are strained as he keeps fucking into you, chasing his own release “Look at you. So good. Fuck.” 

And then you feel him twitch inside you before he releases into the condom with a guttural moan. 

Spent, you fall onto his chest. Both of you breathing heavily. After a few moments of catching your breath, you pull off him and let yourself fall next to him. 

“So, that happened again.” You say, staring at the ceiling while Harrison disposes of the condom. Now that the fog of desire has lifted and you can think, more or less, clearly again, you realise that this was probably not the smartest thing to do. 

Harrison lets out a chuckle as he joins you back on the bed. He’s laying on his side, his head propped up on his hand. 

“It did. How are you feeling about it?” 

You turn on your side as well to face him. 

“Not to blow up your ego or anything but I don’t remember the last time I’ve had sex that amazing.” 

“You don’t remember last week?” There’s a smirk on his face, so, with a roll of your eyes, you throw a pillow at him. 

“I remember.” You narrow your eyes at him. “But I mean before that. It’s been so long.”

“Yeah, same.” 

You never thought you’d find yourself in bed with Harrison. Have you thought about it? Yes. But you never thought it would actually happen. Let alone twice. And you never in your wildest dreams would’ve thought you’d be so… compatible? Even in long-term relationships you had in the past, it took a while for you and your partner to get to know each other's bodies. 

But with Harrison, it seems like everything just comes naturally. Your bodies so in tune that it just works. 

An idea starts forming in your head. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Harrison is your best friend for a reason. Sometimes, he can read you like a book.

You bite your lip. “I don’t know. You might think it’s stupid.” 

“I won’t think it’s stupid.” He pauses for a moment. “OK, maybe I will, but I promise not to laugh.” 

“That’s not really reassuring.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiles. “Please tell me.” 

You play with your fingers, plucking up the courage to tell him. 

“So we both agree that the sex is good, right?" Harrison nods. "And we both don’t really have the time or want to, like, hook up with random people, right?" Another nod from Harrison. "So wouldn’t it be… convenient if we—“ You wave your hand between the two of you.

“If we—?” He raises his eyebrows. He’s gonna make you say it, isn’t he?

“Sleep with each other. A friends with benefits agreement if you will. No strings attached. No obligations.”

“Just sex?”

“Just sex.” 

You hold your breath waiting for Harrison's answer.

A/N: Oooh, what will Harrison’s response be? I think we all know lmao. I hope you liked it! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 

electric love taglist: @blueraindrops​ // @spideyssunshine​ // @defensive_sarcasm17 // @captainbucky13​ // @frenchfrostpudding // @the-fan-18​ // @hotforharrison​ // @osterfieldvol6​ // @castawayclaires // @littlebookbengal​ // @bigbootyjudys-blog​ // @abcxrandomx // @74limelight​ // @lolooo22​ // @justsayk​ // @mountainsforwords​ // @t-hollanderr​

everything taglist: @spidermanlondon​ // @duskholland​ // @tutuabby28​ // @missevrythingg​ // @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​ // @thenoddingbunny-blog​ // @emilykjh​ // @clara-licht​ // @hollandfanficlove​ // @calltothewild​ // @crybabyalexxx​ // @hazardosterfield​ // @calsthomas​ // @quaksonhehe​ // @sinisterspidey​ // @thirzaholland // @tombrina​ // @outshineallthestars​ // @serendipitous-amor​ // @soincredible​ // @trustfundparker​ // @writertoo18​ // @viagracex​ // @skamlover200​ // @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ // @wehavetomakeourheartssitstill​ // @thearchersupremacy​ // @itstaskeen​ // @camimndess​ // @allyz​ // @technosoot​ // @fanficscuziranout​ // @parker-hollandx // @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ // @dangerouslovefanfic​ // @ertherealrose​ // @i-married-a-pineapple // @miraclesoflove​ // @bi-girlwrites-2000​ // @seasidetom​ // @katcontrreras​ // * * // @fallingforfics​ // @destinedbooklover // @parkerpeter24​ // @selfcarecap​ // @moonphoric // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ // @emistrash​ // @badreputationlove​ // @turtoix​ // @haloxmendes​ // @anjalika03​ // @iamsherloki-wholocked​ // @the-fan-18​ // @white-wolf1940​ // @aidinniram​  // @heyhihellowhatsup0​ // @blackbat2020​ // @keithseabrook27​ // @annathesillyfriend​ // @hoodpankow​ // @practicallylivesonline​ // @keithseabrook27​ // @millennial-teenybopper​ // @beautifulrose0809​ // @parachutepanties​ // @jamiealenaa​ // @hallecarey1​

harrison osterfield taglist: @hjoficrecs​ // @lolychu​ // @hazardosterfield​ // @hollandbroz-n-haz​ // @emilyg453​

series taglist: @softholand​ // @svturtles​ // @cloverrover​ // @goodgirlgonetom // @justafangirlduh​ // @thegirlwiththediary​ // @beyond-the-ashes​ // @parkerbunny​ // @bearsbeetsbarnes​ // @keithseabrook27​

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 34

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L    Warnings: DARK THEMES, heavily implied domestic abuse (the Black family) A/n: I’m editing this in a restaurant rn. Nobody can say that I’m not committed! Anyway, if there’s more errors than usual, it’s bc I’m on mobile. Sorry!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 34: Secrets of Our Souls

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Meet me at our place at midnight. Be careful. Make sure nobody follows you.  R.A.B

Y/N read the letter several times before folding it in half while her eyes glazed the crowd of students in the Great Hall in search of Regulus.

A no-show.

Since the start of the term, she’d been trying to get hold of Regulus but her attempts were futile. He was as finicky as a shadow, never staying still long enough for her to grasp, to spot.

Everything about his inconspicuous disappearance and the peculiar letter left her deeply unnerved. He'd even gone as far as using a different owl to respond to her letters; not the usual Black family owl.

In many ways, Regulus was mysterious; highly unusual — dare she say frightening.

“Oh!” Marlene exclaimed. “A secret admirer?”

“Give it back!” Y/N said indignantly as Marlene pried the letter from her hand, unfolding it. Before she could read the contents, Y/N nearly tackled it out of her grasp, snatching it back while Marlene pouted. “It’s private.”

Continuing to sulk, Dorcas smiled at Marlene. From between the sliver of space from under the wooden table and their bodies, she watched as Dorcas held Marlene’s hand; thumb grazing over her knuckles. Y/N eyed them questioningly.

“What are you not telling us?” Dorcas mused, leaning on the table with a sly smirk.

Marlene snapped her fingers. “Oi! Ginger snaps!”

Lily peered over, smile vanishing, placing her fork down. “Did you just call me a…?”

“Would you prefer traffic cone then?” Mary teased.

“I like Carrots more.” Dorcas added, shyly.

“Anyway, you two are pretty much attached,” Marlene said. Had she known better, she would have recognized Marlene’s tone for jealousy. "Who sent that letter?”

Lily shrugged but her face turned downwards at her uncomfortable body language. “She said it’s private. Leave it.”

The conversation ended at that.

Y/N felt a little nudge under the table and as she looked up, Lily’s head was tilted, conveying the silent question, ‘are you okay?’ She didn’t answer as a couple of first years bounced up to Marlene, tugging down on her sleeve. She turned to them, flicking her blond hair out of her face with a wide smile.

One first year was close to tears, another one standing on their tippy-toes to whisper something in her ear.

“Please can you come to the common room? It’s scary and I-I miss my dad!” One of the first years cried out.

Marlene cooed, hugging them lovingly. With a nod, she stood and pressed a kiss to the side of Dorcas’ cheek. She managed to make it seem like she was whispering in her ear before turning back to the group. “See you tossers later!”

Dorcas watched Marlene walk away. First years jumping, hanging off of her while Dorcas’ fingers grazed the spot on her face where she kissed her. She dazzled radiantly.

Before midnight, Y/N left her dorm, heading to the Marauder’s room and knocked on their door. She vaguely heard footsteps approaching before it opened.

She smiled before she could even register it. “Moony.”

He grinned widely. “Whiskers,” Remus said pleasantly, leaning against the door frame, his hair falling slightly over his eyes. “How may I help you?”

“Seeing you has already helped a lot.” She joked while Remus blushed madly. She laughed at his reaction. “I need to talk to Bambi.”

Remus had his eyebrows raised but opened the door wide and beckoned her in.

She noticed a bed pushed far to the left, isolated from the other beds. The curtains were almost nearly closed aside from the sliver that was still open. Black was there, book in hand with a few pieces of parchment laid surrounding him. He was already looking up at her.

They truly isolated Black from them in every way possible.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Peter smiled before throwing her a small wrapped sweet her way. “Greetings!”

“Thanks, Pete!” She caught it. And dropped onto James’ bed. His glasses were strewn, laying on his bedside table as he flicked through his book.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Do you mind if I borrow your invisibility cloak tonight?”

James surprisingly didn’t push further as he simply went through his trunk and threw her the cloak, only asking that she would be careful with it.

She hopped out of the room, rushing out to the cold corridors and threw the cloak over her head. As she passed through various hallways, she finally opened the door to her and Regulus’ small hideout. A couple of candles were lit and the familiar Slytherin and Gryffindor blankets clashed together.

Huddled in the corner of the room on the couch, small and curled with his legs pressed against his chest and chin perched on his knees, Regulus was there, shaking.

She rushed up to him, keeping her hand visible and only touching him when he realized it was her. Consoling people was always a challenge in itself.

“What happened?”

Regulus’ voice was strained and tired. “C-can you hug me? Please?”

Her heart could have shattered as she roped him into a large, crushing hug. His aching sobs crashed through her chest. Y/N’s arms were tight around Regulus, his head face pressed against her shoulder and she could feel his tears seep through her shirt. Doing the best she could, she soothed him, petting his hair.

She couldn’t tell just how much time had passed until Regulus’ snuffles calmed down as he harshly wiped his tears. It was the first time she was able to truly get a close-up of how he looked.

To put it lightly, Regulus looked like shit.

Any of that regal, youthful glow of his diminished. And she realized it only faded whenever he went home. His skin was dull and grey, eyes sunken. Even his long hair was cut lopsidedly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“I… It’s…” Regulus trailed off, face full of worry and trouble. “It’s…”

“It’s okay,” she rubbed her hand up and down his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But something caught her eye. Regulus’ trousers rode up in his shaking state. A large bandage was wrapped messily on his leg. The skin around the bandage was red and a few scars peaked out. But as soon as she realized, he had too and quickly pulled the fabric down.

“... What is that?” She asked softly. She didn’t know what it was, but something heavy sunk in her chest — the feeling of sickening, frightening dread.

He refused to answer.

“You have to get that checked out —”

“No!” Regulus shouted, complete panic filtering through his face.

“Whatever that is, it isn’t going to heal properly if we don’t.”

Regulus debated for a while and she saw the conflict on his face before relenting. “I’m embarrassed by it…”

She mustered up any kind of energy left and smiled. “I won’t judge you.” She managed to catch his eye and held it. She went over her options quickly.

1. Leave Regulus?

Option one was already tossed out the window. The weight of the situation was far too grave to continue to let it slide by again and again.

2. Press further?

But how?

3. Make him feel comfortable?

Bingo.

If he was ashamed by his scars, then maybe if she showed hers…

She turned to Regulus, lifting her sleeve. A scar ran across her forearm from Snape’s attack during the Quidditch match.

“I got this a couple of months ago in a nasty fight.” Then she pointed to the small scar on her leg from when she was dragged by Moony. "I got this from an accident."

But then, she sucked in a deep breath, mustering up all her bravery and courage, pushing down every bit of insecurity. She tugged down the collar of her shirt a bit, just enough to reveal the top of a much more faded scar that travelled down to her sternum. “And I got this from a heart surgery.”

She fixed her shirt to sit properly again. “I was born with a heart defect. It went undetected until my mom found me, hardly breathing and had to perform open-heart surgery on me. I was supposed to die but here I am. Healthy and alive and I haven’t had a problem since.”

Regulus looked up at her wide-eyed and his body became less stiff.

“I used to be so… ashamed of it. Maybe I still am, I never talk about it… Only you, my mom and someone at Ilvermorny knows. But my point is, I am more than my scars, and you are too.”

She swallowed her fear, now cursing herself and resolved to shut up. Waiting, she wondered that since she showed him the scars that perhaps he would too.

Regulus considered her, almost astonished, finally moving to pull up his trousers and peeling off his bandage, wincing while doing so.

It felt like a cold bucket of water was splashed all over her body. She desperately tried to keep her face blank as the overwhelming urge to cry while combating the wave of nausea hit her.

His skin was butchered — fiery red. They weren’t neat, like what a surgeon's scalpel would be like, but messy, crisscrossed and viciously deep. It had hardly healed and they were old enough to be a little over a week or two old. And undoubtedly painful.

Whoever did that to him was enraged, furious.

“Shit… Regulus… who did this?” She asked quietly, more to herself than him as he remained silent. She stood, commanding, “We need to get you fixed up.”

“It’s not that b —”

“Stop lying.”

“Just don’t take me to the hospital wing.”

Wanting to know more, she was too afraid that any more prying would result in Regulus completely shutting down and withholding more information. Instead, she picked up the invisibility cloak, threw it over him and wrapped an arm underneath Regulus' arms to help him walk out of the room.

She went to the only other place she knew she would be able to offer any resemblance of help.

Once reaching the Potions classroom, muttering Alohomora, Y/N helped Regulus sit down comfortably at one of the extra tables and immediately got to work. All sorts of magic went around as she grabbed an extra textbook and flipped to the Essence of Dittany page.

Shelves, jars and cabinets opened and closed on their own accord, all taking ingredients as they fell into a boiling cauldron.

“What are you doing?” Regulus questioned, nervously drumming his fingers on the table.

“Making you something.”

It was still between them. She didn’t know what to say, only what to do. Everything went through her mind like a step-by-step process, like a robot categorizing its own emotions.

Because what was the right response to something like this?

She stared at the bubbling cauldron, slowly stirring to avoid eye contact. “You don’t have to tell me but… you didn’t do this to yourself —”

“No,” Regulus said, calmly and steadily.

“Then… to the person — people who did… will they bother you again?”

“Probably not… I’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.

Once the potion was completed, she poured it inside an applicator and made sure to cast a quick cleaning spell. A soft blue glow emitted around his leg until disappearing. She looked up to him, fisting his shirt and shoved it inside his mouth. “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”

She took the applicator, pouring a couple drops onto his wound. A greenish smoke billowed around them as it bubbled on his skin. The skin was stitching itself back together and over his wound. Regulus moaned in pain, fist banging on the wooden table.

She finally pulled the cloth from his mouth once down and ran across the room to find more clean clothes to dab off the sweat from his face. Y/N thought for a second he was going to faint.

“I’m so sorry Reg… Sorry…”

He didn’t say anything for a while, only nodding in response meanwhile she monitored his condition. She gave him the wrapped candy that Peter gave her, hoping that it would help him regain some energy. She was beginning to grow worried that she might’ve brewed it incorrectly as her mind mulled over possible counter potions.

“I know… you said... you don’t talk to my brother much…” Regulus croaked out. She closed the book, rushing up to him. “But... you are in the same friend group… right?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. A white lie wouldn’t hurt.

“Things changed. We’re friends. Why?”

There was a long pause. “Is he okay?”

A million questions went through her. Even if they were estranged, wouldn’t he know?

“He’s okay.” Lie. “He’s just been… stressed as of late.” True.

“Is he still staying with the Potter’s?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, eyelids drooping but everything about it told her something wasn’t right. “I’m glad.”

Regulus refused to let her help him walk back to the dungeons and left with his wound almost fully healed. And she was left with more questions than any answers as she slithered into bed.

What was he not telling her?

But then she thought about the summer with Matthew. Why had he been so surprised that she had been with a member of the Black family? Or how did he even know them? What was it about them that commanded so much respect and international recognition?

A couple of footsteps padded her way and Y/N felt her bed dip, a weight sliding beside her.

“Are you okay?” Lily whispered. “Been worried about you these past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, turning to the side to look at Lily through the night. “Jolly.”

“You sure? It can be our secret?”

She remained quiet and it gave Lily her answer. She turned onto her side before mumbling. “Feel free to stay tonight.” When she didn’t feel Lily leave, but she wiggled around to become comfortable, she sighed, forcing herself to sleep.

There was certainly far too much happening in her life at the moment for her to fully care about Lily’s bizarre and avoidant behaviour. She just wanted the next day to come.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

The next few days were uncomfortable and Y/N was beyond exhausted.

Breakfast was nothing more than her sipping on a glass of water, studying the Slytherin table, worried for Regulus.

Was he being bullied? Was he… no… the wound was a bit too old for it to have taken place at Hogwarts.

She spent most of the day in the library, simply reviewing her Herbology and Advanced Potions textbook.

Much to James’ dismay, all the free periods they had in sixth year were due to the overwhelming work and increased difficulty in lessons. Fortunately for Y/N, Potions was partially a free class and she never had to worry about it aside from the essays. It was far too easy.

During class, she would figure out new techniques, tricks, but to her dismay, Slughorn had really enjoyed how both she and Snape performed together and often paired them up during potions. She hated to admit it, but there was a reason why Snape was a favourite student of Slughorn. He had talent. Although, he was in a permanently vindictive mood around her which made him even more unbearable.

The tip of her eagle-feather quill moved across the pages of the textbook and she pulled back momentarily to review her book.

Nightshade… Powdered silver… Stewed Mandrakes… Slughorn had said it helped werewolves… What if Remus —

“Whiskers! There you are!” James said, strutting up. He sat down on the couch beside her, both tucked away in the corner of the library.

She gave a little wave of her fingers before closing her book. James suddenly became slightly dejected at her reaction. She couldn’t force herself to put on a show.

“Something wrong?”

Y/N felt like there were no answers to everything that had been happening recently. Only if Matthew was there.

But James was.

“I need to ask you something.”

His head swivelled around to see if anyone with prying ears was listening in before nodding.

“Could you tell me about the Black family?”

She had never seen James go so rigid. His cheek hallowed as he chewed the inside of his cheek and waited for her to elaborate.

“I know I don’t talk about it but Regulus is a friend of mine.” She didn’t miss the way James stiffened further at that. “And he’s… worrying me. He’s… god, I don’t know what to say.”

James threw up a silencing spell, encircling them. “It’s okay, go on.”

“Regulus’ leg was butchered. I think he’s being bullied or it’s darker than that.”

James’ skin, which was usually a warm, rich look, seemed as if it paled, almost giving him a gray appearance. “Did he say anything about his family?”

“No. But he never talks about them. Is that the reason why Black stays with you?”

“Even with the non-existent respect I have for Black, I feel like I can’t tell you much,” James said and she understood why. “But the Black family — they’re fucking insane. Their Pureblood mania is probably one of the worst I’ve ever seen.” James took a moment to look at her reaction after mentioning blood purity. “He has a reason to be scared of them.”

“So you’re telling me that his family… they hurt him?”

James looked down, the gravity of their conversation finally hitting him. He took off his round glasses, rubbing his temples. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It was probably another Slytherin. His parents… love him — I don’t see them laying a hand on him. He didn’t mention running away? Did he?”

“No.”

She heard James curse under his breath as he grabbed his hair out of habit. “I’ll talk to him.”

“About what? You can’t tell him I told you, he’ll —”

“Relax. I won’t. I’ll ask him to move in with me.”

Y/N felt like she could faint there and then. Everything in her body felt wobbly, weak as she grappled with the idea of Regulus and his home life. Then Black… did he also go through what Regulus has been through? The thought made her sick.

James’ voice tugged her back to reality. “Promise me something.” She waited for him to continue.

“I know Regulus is your friend and that he’s going through a rough time but…” James struggled with his words. “But… be careful around him. He’s not much of a threat but his family is. There’s a reason why Black lives with me; no matter how angry, how much I hate him, I would never let him go back there. To them.

“The war is approaching and they have eyes all on Regulus — watching everything he does.”

Goosebumps covered her entire body. Everything James said sounded more like an underlying threat of sorts. She wondered if that was the reason why he refused to be seen with her publicly. “Are you saying that he’s a Death Eater?”

“No,” James responded briskly. “But it’s not to say his parents won’t force him to. If you knew his family, you would understand —”

Both students snapped their heads up from the figure slowly approaching them as James eased off the silencing charm.

Professor Elway was there, holding a large leather-bound book and a stack of parchment, most likely essays she had to grade. She only gave a small nod to James before smiling widely at Y/N which caused James to mutter something vaguely familiar that sounded like ‘favouritism.’

“Ms. L/N! How wonderful to see you!” Elway was enlivened. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh! Erm — thank you?”

Elway laughed, “Your work has been incredible! I’m very impressed.”

She felt James nudge her under the table.

“Oh!” The professor exclaimed. “There’s a Duelling club session tonight I’m supervising. I’d love to see you there?”

“I’m sorry, but we have a paper due in Transfigurations.” James helped, cutting in for her. She felt herself relax into her chair.

In no time, Defence Against the Dark Arts became Y/N’s favourite class and duelling was incredibly fun, but all she wanted to do was sleep. Perhaps another time…

Professor Elway gave a little sigh but nodded her head. “Then I’ll see you next session! Have a good day, Ms. L/N and Mr..?”

“Potter.”

“My apologies, Mr. Potter. Have a fine day!”

While they watched her leave, both students were left with a similar deep, icy trepidation that clawed at their soul and a single question heavy in their hearts.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost, translate or modify

[lgbtqlegends]

avalance: sara + tattoos headcanons

so,,, i absolutely Love tattoos, like,, so much, and the other day as i was thinking about tattoos and how much i wanted to get more, i was struck with the desire to write some avalance headcanons in which sara decides to start getting tattoos, kind of as a way to cope and to turn her pain into beauty, so,,, without further ado, here are those headcanons :) (and also i for sure could prob come up with more if anyone wishes me to do so)

besides the one tattoo on her wrist that’s never been acknowledged (the one that caity has on her wrist in real life), sara doesn’t have any other tattoos for the longest time. it’s just that one, and for the longest time she didn’t really plan on getting more. she liked the tattoo just fine, she just,,, never really thought about getting more

she’s having a really rough time one night, and she was restless and she just,,, needed something,,, different. so she, kind of impulsively, decides to take the jumpship and go get another tattoo. it’s a semicolon, like on her other wrist or something, because it’s small and she’s just,,, she’s trying it out. she ends up liking it a lot, and it helps, every time she looks at it

ava notices it immediately, and she’s nothing but supportive and encouraging. when sara tells her that maybe she might wanna get more at some point, ava tells her to go for it, and she tells sara that she’s so so proud of her for doing smth like this rather than falling back on unhealthy habits

she gets more, and they’re all still small at first, because she’s still kinda getting a feel for the whole ‘more tattoos’ thing. she doesn’t get a single tattoo that doesn’t have some sort of meaning to her either, because maybe that’s something her pre-gambit self would’ve done, but she’s a much different person than she was then, so every tattoo she gets has a meaning

she gets small ones for everyone she’s lost, just little things that remind her of what they were like. they’re in a cluster on the left side of her ribcage, right under her boob. she wanted to keep them all close to her heart; it makes her feel like they’re all still with her, like she carries all of them with her wherever she goes. it gives her strength, just the knowledge of having them there, especially when she’s at really low points mentally. sometimes when she really needs to feel them, she’ll brush her fingers over all the tattoos there and take a deep breath while she reassures herself that they’d all be proud of her and that they’re all still with her, in their own ways

ava lowkey loves it whenever sara gets a new tattoo. she loves getting to see it and hear sara tell her about why she decided to get it. when sara first started getting more tattoos, ava offered to go with her, just for the company n everything, but for a while, sara preferred to go alone and tell ava about it after. eventually though, one time sara ended up saying yes, and after that ava ended up going with her most times, just to sit with her and watch. sara loves it, and she loves that ava can tell when a tattoo might be hitting particularly close to home and how ava distracts her until they’re alone because she knows that sara would hate to be super vulnerable in public like that

sara debates for a long time whether or not to get a tattoo of tally marks for all the times she’s died and/or cheated death. she ends up getting it, after a few long talks with ava about whether she should or not. she wasn’t sure at first, but decided to get it as a reminder of how much she’s overcome and how many times she’s beaten the odds and also as like,,, a sort of subtle, bittersweet and melancholy reminder of how many chances at life she’s gotten and how most people don’t ever get that many chances. she uses it to remind herself to always do the best that she can and to not take anything for granted. she updates the tattoo every time she dies or cheats death. it’s on the inside of her right bicep. sometimes ava catches sara staring at it pensively, and knows she’s stuck wondering why she’s the one to still be alive even though she should’ve been dead a hundred times over at this point. ava always gives her a big hug, and presses a kiss to her neck and whispers soft reassurances to her

sara knows it’s like,,, sappy and cheesy as hell, and she knows the legends would tease her forever if they ever saw it, but at some point she gets a tattoo of ava’s name inside of a heart. it’s on her chest, right over her own heart. later she gets ava’s fingerprints tattooed around it, and whenever she’s anxious or panicking about something and ava isn’t able to be right there in that moment, she remembers the tattoo and covers it with her hand and reminds herself to breathe and that it’s okay. the fingerprints are mostly just to give herself that extra little meaning, of how ava always puts a hand on her chest to calm her down and ground her. whenever ava is having a rough time, like when she’s insecure or anxious, sara will lay down, shirt off, and pull ava to lay down with her, rests ava’s head on her chest, right over the tattoo and reminds and reassures ava that she got it as a physical mark of how much she loves ava and as a way to always have part of ava with her, whenever and wherever she goes, as a reminder of everything she’s worked for and everything she has to keep fighting for, and of the person she’s always gonna come home to 

on her right collarbone, she gets a tattoo that consists of two birds, canaries. one of them is white, and one of them is black. she gets it on a day where she’s missing laurel more than ever. it’s her way of keeping laurel close to her even more; she has a tattoo for laurel in the cluster on the left side of her ribcage of course, but it just didn’t feel like enough, so she got the canaries on her collarbone, the white one for herself, and also as an unspoken thank you to laurel for helping her become the white canary, for helping her become a hero in the light. the black one is for laurel obviously, and sara loves it because it makes her feel like laurel is always there with her no matter what, and especially by her side during battle, as if they’re fighting side by side again. it helps when she misses laurel the most, because she can just trace the tattoo or stare at it in the mirror, and laurel doesn’t feel so far away anymore

okay, taking something from my own list of tattoos i plan on getting: sara gets a tattoo on the inside of her arm, on her forearm, just below her elbow. it says ‘i am here’ in just like,,, a very simple font. sometimes it’s a reminder for her that she’s still living and breathing and physically just,,, alive and here. other times, if she’s having a rough time, it helps to serve as a reminder of how far she’s come, and the place she’s in now compared to her past, and that she isn’t back in those dark places but rather that she’s in a good place, and with good people

she gets a tattoo of a knife down her right side, 99% because she just really likes knives, 1% because knives, for her, are things that she can use to help her think and focus and also that she can use when she’s feeling restless or just needs to focus on doing something with her hands. it’s one of her bigger tattoos for sure— she still mostly gets tattoos that are on the smaller side— and it’s an incredibly pretty knife. after it heals, ava loves very lightly, very softly tracing her fingers over it and brushing her lips against it because sara is relatively ticklish there and it always makes her shiver, and ava loves the happy giggles the action gets out of sara

at the top of her back, right in the middle on the top of her spine, sara gets a tattoo of the japanese symbol for destiny, as a nod to her being the paragon of destiny. she doesn’t need to see it to know it’s there, and every time she thinks of it, it centers her a little bit more. on nights when ava kisses all of sara’s scars, she also spends a moment to press a kiss to this tattoo, because it’s right there, and it just gives ava one more place to press kisses to, so she loves it

whenever sara gets a new tattoo, ava loves helping sara take care of it until it heals, so sara always lets her take off the protective adhesive once it’s time, lets her wipe away the bits of blood, lets her put on the healing ointment for the 2ish weeks and then lets her put on the lotion once the 2 weeks are up. ava absolutely loves doing it because it’s just,,, a really tender, soft thing to do, and it always makes sara melt because she loves the feeling of ava taking care of her

sometimes at night when they’re laying in bed, if sara’s not wearing a shirt, and if she’s really sleepy and just,,, laying there relaxed with her eyes closed, sometimes ava will reach over and trail her fingers all over all of sara’s tattoos. it makes sara shiver a little cause it kinda tickles but mostly sara just lays there, eyes still closed, and lets ava do it cause it feels good and she loves it and it makes her relax even more, so she just lays there sleepily with a soft smile on her face while ava just looks over at her with such reverence and awe while she traces all the tattoos

sara also gets a really pretty, meaningful quote tattooed in arabic, in a small band around her forearm. when ava asks what it says, sara tells her that it says stars can’t shine without darkness and that she decided to get it in arabic to take her knowledge of the language she learned for the league and use it for something beautiful instead. it nearly has ava in tears (happy, proud tears) and she spends a solid few minutes just holding sara’s arm and lightly brushing her thumb over it

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Coming Out to Steve as Bisexual:

A/N: Here’s (hopefully) the first installment of a sort-of series that I like to call the Imagine Pride Series. I don’t know how many I’ll get done this Pride Month since I’m starting it sort of in the middle of the month but if people end up liking it and I get enough ideas/requests for it, I’ll continue it and maybe it’ll become an annual thing until I’ve done a billion characters or get bored of it, lol. Anyway, this first one ended up being very personal for me, which I definitely didn’t intend, but... yeah, lol. Also, this series will be filled to the brim with my personal LGBTQ+ headcanons for Marvel characters, so if that’s not your thing, steer clear. Anyway, enjoy!

Word count: 2,477

Warnings: Coming out anxiety. Use of the Q-slur (reclaiming) and one F-bomb.

Masterlist

Ko-Fi Shoppe

~~~

    You were in your bedroom getting prepared for lounge time before bed—and psyching yourself up—when you thought you heard the front door open through your apartment’s paper-thin walls. You grabbed your phone and turned down the music playing from your Bluetooth speaker; the current song was Janelle Monáe’s “I Like That”, from the Queer Confidence playlist that you’d built for this specific event. Taking a deep breath and giving yourself one more good look in the mirror attached to your closet door, eyeing the to-go bag you had packed with essentials and left ready to grab on the bed, you listened to the jingle of keys as they were dropped onto the table by the door. The sound was quickly followed by a voice.

    “[Y/N]?” Steve half-hollered, and you heard the sounds of movement as he made his way to the hall. His voice got softer as he got closer. “Baby?”

    You gave yourself a shake and patted your face with your hands before answering. “Bedroom!”

    Even though the two of you had been living together for well over a year, he still knocked and waited politely outside until you gave him explicit permission to enter. When he did, he immediately gravitated towards you. He casually looked over you, in your pajama pants and baggy cropped sweatshirt, as he strolled over, and seeing the slightest furrow of his brows made your stomach churn. Steve Rogers wasn’t too bad at reading people but he was always able to read you like a book and you immediately knew that he noticed how tense you were.

    Apparently, he also noticed that you were trying to keep your cool and act normal because he didn’t immediately jump into Worried Eyebrows Rogers. Instead, he decided to give you some time to sort yourself out and opted to simply hug you from behind. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, his warm breath gave you goosebumps as he mumbled a soft, “Hi.”

    You almost forgot about your plan as you melted back into his arms. “Hi,” you replied just as softly as you leaned your head to rest on top of his. You allowed yourself to close your eyes and place your hands on his, slowly run your hands up and down his forearms; you tried to take everything in just in case this was the last time you would be held by him. The solidness of the chest you leaned against, the sturdiness of his footing even as you put your full weight against him because, in reality, your body weight was like carrying a loaf of bread to the super-soldier. The curve of veins and muscle across his arms, the dampness of his hair under your cheek that was probably caused by his evening run despite the rain happening at the time. The faded smell of the 2-in-1 shampoo-conditioner that Steve used despite your complaining, the much warmer body heat than any normal person that was like being wrapped in a heated blanket during the wintertime but being suffocated in a sauna during the summer, that currently bled into you and wrapped you into a comforting cocoon.

    You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been standing like that in silence but it was long enough for Steve to decide that it was Worried Eyebrows time. He slowly raised his head again and when you opened your eyes again, he was watching you carefully in the mirror. He wore a dark navy T-shirt that was just tight enough to outline the muscular form underneath—with the help of Thor and Asgardian booze early on in your relationship, you’d gotten a blushing and giggly drunk Steve to admit that he purposely wore clothes like it because he enjoyed the attention, just a smidge—and a pair of black joggers that you got him for Christmas a few months ago.

    “Are you okay?” Worried Rogers finally asked when he realized you weren’t going to speak first. He kept eye contact with you via the mirror, which almost hurt to hold on your end, as he pressed a light kiss against your temple and then a second one to your cheek. “You called me home early. Said it was something that couldn’t wait?”

    And now I don’t want to say it at all, you thought as you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth. After hesitating for a bit longer—a few seconds or a half-hour, you couldn’t tell through your anxious haze—you sighed and said, “We need to talk.”

    “What, it’s not like you’re leaving me or something, are you?” Steve questioned. The quirk of his brows and a brief smile that appeared told you that he was joking but when you didn’t even chuckle or tease him back, that smile quickly reversed into a frown. “That’s not what’s happening here, is it?”

    “Well…” you mumbled, then trailed off. You glanced towards the bed, where your emergency-leave bag sat waiting, and when you looked back at Steve’s reflection, he was staring at the bag with worry lines etched deep into his skin. “That’s up to you.”

    “Hold on.” Steve moved from behind to stand in front of you, although it was only briefly as he took your hands tightly in his and led you to sit on the edge of the bed with him. He glanced at the bag again, the lines on his face grew deeper again, and you were suddenly reminded of his true age. He looked you in the eye again. “[Y/N], talk to me.”

    “Ours” by Taylor Swift played quietly in the background as you tried to untangle your thoughts and make your mouth work again. The song wasn’t a Pride song or by an LGBTQ+ artist but something about it just fit so well. As you tried to recall the speech you’d been practicing all day, then decided to throw it out altogether, Taylor sang, “So don’t you worry your pretty little mind / People throw rocks at things that shine / And life makes love look hard…”

    “Steve, I…” Your tongue seemed to tie itself in a knot whenever you tried to say it. 

    Steve’s worried, borderline scared, look turned soft. The gentle Worried Eyebrows were back and his thumbs caressed the backs of your hands so softly that it felt like he thought you’d shatter at any minute. He pressed another, stronger kiss against your forehead and mumbled, “You know you can tell me anything.”

    Steve was one of the kindest, most welcoming, most understanding people you’ve ever known but there was still something intimidating about telling him. Normally, you couldn’t fathom him reacting poorly to anything that you could have said but now, you couldn’t help remembering the fact that he was a masculine, old-fashioned, soldier—a soldier from the ’40s—who was still the Ideal American Man to a lot of people, especially some rather unsavory people, and to your knowledge, Steve didn’t have any other queer people in his life that were close to him. Maybe he didn’t want any. Maybe he didn’t like them, like many people who idolized him don’t like them. 

    A little spark of anger sparked in the dark void of anxiety that you were feeling. It wasn’t fair that people hated people like you simply for existing and as much as you loved Steve, if he held the same sentiments, you definitely didn’t want to be with him. The spark quickly turned into a raging fire and suddenly you were blurting out what you’d struggled to say all day, all month, ever since you’d discovered yourself.

    “Steve, I’m bi.”

    Steve stared at you for a bit, then blinked. “What?”

    You took a breath and squared your shoulders. It wasn’t any easier to say it a second time, but you managed in what you hoped was a confident voice, “I’m bisexual.”

    Steve blinked again and his head tilted slightly to the side, but otherwise didn’t move much. “Okay.”

    “O… Okay.” You echoed. You felt your cheeks grow warm.

    Slowly, a relieved smile appeared on Steve’s face and you watched as the tension in his entire posture relaxed. “Was that what you wanted to tell me? You wanted to come out as bisexual?”

    Your face grew heated still and you glanced away. You pulled your sweaty hands from Steve’s and wiped them on your pant legs as you stammered, “Y… Yeah, I mean, yes.” You picked at the fraying hem of your shirt for a few moments, then looked back at your boyfriend—to see that he was absolutely glowing. “You don’t care?”

    “No, of course not,” Steve said, only to quickly shake his head and backtrack, “I mean, of course, I do! I care because it’s you and your identity. I just— It’s just not what I was expecting at all.”

    It was your turn to stare at him. Now you just felt a little silly. “What were you expecting?”

    Steve looked past you to the bag sitting on the other side of you and his expression saddened a bit. He took your hand tightly in his own and squeezed them as he looked at you again. “What were you?”

    “Uh…” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze, “Well, I guess… I don’t know…”

    “[Y/N],” Steve said more sternly, “you don’t have to sugarcoat it. I’m a grown man; I can handle it.”

    “A grown man who was America’s Sweetheart in the ‘40s,” you pointed out. “I had a right to be worried.”

    Steve nodded slowly. “No, of course, you did. I understand. You know I’m okay with it, though, right? I’ve made that clear, right? I’m proud of you and I’m grateful that you told me. Glad that you felt safe enough to tell me, even if you were still worried about it. You know that, right?”

    Kesha’s “Raising Hell” played in the background as you scrubbed your eyes with your sweatshirt sleeves, gave Steve a dumb-feeling nod. Of course, you knew Steve wouldn’t care.

    Steve took you in a tight hug as you tried to shake away the tears burning at the corners of your eyes. He ran a hand over your hair and gently rocked the two of back and forth in true, calming, Worried Eyebrows Rogers fashion. After a bit, when he felt you finally relaxing, he murmured against your hair, “I love you, you know? All of you. Because you’re you.”

    You felt your cheeks warm again and you nodded against his chest. “I love you too.”

    The two of you continued to sit like that for a while until Steve suddenly hummed thoughtfully. He slowly released you and you let him go, he sat back on his hands and chewed the inside of his cheek. 

    You watched him curiously as he glanced around the room, thinking. “What?”

    “You know, I…” Now he trailed off, glanced at you before his gaze darted away again and he chewed his cheek again. “I… Now I know this isn’t my information to share but Buck’s always been pretty uncaring about it, I guess.”

    Your brows furrowed. “Buck? Like, Bucky-Buck? Our Bucky.”

    Steve chuckled. “Yeah, our Bucky.”

    “What about Bucky?”

    Steve hesitated again but eventually continued, “I had almost the exact same conversation with him before he left for the war.”

    Your eyes widened. “Wait— Bucky?”

    Steve nodded slowly again and his gaze finally settled on you again. “Bi too. Coincidence, huh? He was lucky, sort of. Says he always knew. Obviously not super open, given the time, but he was never ashamed of it or anything.” He paused and briefly glanced away again before continuing. “I still don’t know.”

    You blinked. “Don’t know what?”

    Steve just stared at you, cheeks tinting pink as he waited for you to put the pieces together.

    “Wait, you’re queer?”

    Steve shook his head quickly. “Or something. But I don’t like that word. Power to anyone who uses it positively but I was around when it wasn’t.”

    “Right,” you said, still dumbfounded, “Sorry. Yeah, I won’t use it for you then. Hang on; you’re not straight then?”

    Steve chewed his lip and gave you the cutest bashful smile that you’d ever seen on such a large man; you could almost see the scrawny, sickly, pre-serum Steve sitting in front of you.

    “I’m offended,” he softly quipped.

    You stared at him a bit longer. Then you burst into laughter. Steve chuckled along with you, watched you with a growing smile as you fell back onto the bed in a giggling fit. Eventually, you calmed down, wiping tears that you weren’t sure were completely from laughing and staring up at the bedroom ceiling. “My gaydar’s fucked, dude.”

    This time Steve laughed and he collapsed back onto the bed with you. Then he grabbed you, wrapping his arms tightly around your back as he rolled over with you so that you were laying on top of him.

    “Well, like I said,” he said, watching you, “I don’t know.”

    “Well, you kind of know, though,” you replied, “right?”

    Steve tilted his head a bit, then nodded. “Kind of.”

    “So… what?”

    “What?”

    You shrugged and grinned. “I don’t know. What are you into? What do you think you are? Like, I uh… I like girls. And guys. And everything in between and outside.”

    “I thought that was pansexual or something?”

    “For some people it is. For some people, bi is only girls and only guys. I tried pan, omni, a few others, but bi was what I always came back to. Bi just… fits.”

    Steve sighed and stared past you at the ceiling again. “See, I just think there’s too much information. I’m too old. Get confused easily.” 

    You snorted and snickered as he flashed a smile at you. “Some people don’t do any of it, you know. Labels and stuff, I mean. They’re just kinda like ‘I like this and all there it is to it.’ No label, just them and love. Couldn’t be me but it works for other people.”

    Steve nodded again and after a minute said, “I just like people.”

    You smiled at him. “Okay.”

    He looked at you. “I really like you.”

    The smile slowly turned into a grin. “Oh yeah?”

    Steve smiled back and held you tighter against him. “I like you a lot.”

    “Well, well, Mr. Rogers—”

    “Captain,” he grumbled under his breath, “but it’s fine.”

    “Captain Rogers,” you corrected as you slinked up to lean over him. You took his face in your hands and leaned so close that your noses bumped together. “I like you a lot too.”

    Steve leaned in the rest of the way to kiss you and you kissed him back. Despite the teasing, the kiss was soft and sweet, and when he pulled away from you, the way he looked at you full of love was just as sweet.

    “Love you,” he said.

    “I love you too.”

[luminescencefics]

fade in, fade out: deleted scene

"Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Hi all! In honor of Fic Slam 2, here is a Fade chapter six deleted scene. You don’t have to be caught up on the story to understand it as it can completely stand alone, but if you’d like to get a glimpse of Harry and Nora’s world, click here to check it out! Thanks to the lovely as ever @oh-honey-styles for putting this together. I can’t wait to see what everybody else has come up with!

1k word count

my masterlist // read below:

***

Harry was drunk again.

It’s not like he really had any other choice in the matter, considering his mates were buying him round after round and the girl he’s been both simultaneously terrified and begging to talk to has barely spared him a second look in the past two hours.

He really doesn’t blame her, though.

Because things have been unbearably awkward ever since she first stepped on English soil and unknowingly ran into him that night at the pub nearly a month prior. A month filled with longing and confusion and wonder and a ridiculous amount of feelings Harry hasn’t let himself think about in the three years since his eyes last fell on hers.

Harry has so much to make up for—so much grovelling, so much apologizing, so much owning up to do that the weight of it all is practically unimaginable to him.

But like most boys at the ripe age of twenty-two, Harry is a coward. So he sits. And he drinks.

His tactic of avoiding and observing her from a distance seems to be working, because from his vantage point on the other side of the crowded room, his body leaning against the sticky beer-coated cherrywood bar top, he can watch the way her newly dyed dark brown hair flits whenever she turns her head to continue a conversation with her new girlfriends. He can practically hear the melodic giggle falling from her pouty, raspberry stained lips whenever somebody says something worth laughing about. He can practically feel the warmth of her gaze as her bright blue eyes squint in adoration whenever she speaks to somebody she feels undeniably comfortable around.

Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley, and everything she does seems to affect Harry in the most impressive yet terrifying way. It’s as if he’s a livewire and every single time Nora giggles or smiles or leaves a lipstick stain on her pint glass, Harry flinches with the possibility of rupture. His heart does things his drunken brain can’t seem to comprehend, and when her blue eyes fall onto his hazy greens and she stares at him with a look he can’t decipher, Harry feels his stomach bottom out. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s clutching onto his pint glass until the skin surrounding his knuckles are painted white and practically ripping at the seam, and it’s only when she looks away when Harry feels his lungs expanding for a proper breath, and he nearly collapses under the weight of it.

He needs another fucking drink.

Somehow he’s ended up alone in the ripped, red-leather clad booth, an empty beer and shot glass in front of him. He’s been staring at the same chipped wood for so long that he hasn’t realized that the rest of his mates have upped and left him until the gentle thud of a smaller body falls into the seat near him. Suddenly, the smell of sandalwood and rosebud flood through his nostrils, and he doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s her. The pathetic drumline of his heart thundering underneath his expensive dress shirt practically gives him away.

“Are you ever going to talk to me?” Nora’s quiet voice asks, and Harry’s surprised he can hear it over the loud clamor of the band from the stage in front of them.

He looks up then, sad green eyes looking into blue. It still shocks him how familiar she feels, his body practically rendered motionless when he feels the warmth of her smooth skin, remembers the quirk of her upper lip, refamiliarizes himself with the beauty marks littering her face.

God, he misses her so much, to the point where he can hardly breathe sometimes.

“I don’t know what to say to you, I just—I don’t want to fuck up anymore. ‘S all I seem to do whenever I’m around you. So not saying anything is the—’s just the better alternative.”

“So you won’t talk to me, but you’ll stare at me from across the bar?” Nora asks with a teasing grin.

Harry laughs a bit, his cheeks pinkening when he realizes his tactics were not as subtle as he originally planned.

With a shrug, Harry says, “Can’t help it, you’re too pretty not to look at.”

Now, Nora’s the one blushing. “I think you’ve had one too many of these, mister,” she says, flicking her navy-painted fingernail against his empty pint glass. The action causes her bare arm to brush against his, and Harry shudders at the simplest form of contact.

God, he really is pathetic.

She’s a bit closer now, and without really thinking of the repercussions, Harry grasps at her wrist gently and observes the color coating her fingernails a bit closer.

“Hm, ‘s nice. Brings out your eyes,” he whispers, suddenly realizing how closely they’re sitting to one another. Nora’s kneecap is digging into the meat of Harry’s thigh, and the point of her elbow is resting on the sticky table while her forearm brushes the material of his shirt covering his ribs.

“You aren’t even looking at my eyes,” Nora whispers back, her body quivering when Harry lifts his gaze from her bitten lips to her darkened pupils.

Harry licks his bottom lip, coating the dry skin with his saliva until they look alive again—two glistening pink pillows that Nora remembers thinking about long after she first tasted them nearly three years ago in her tiny Townbridge dorm room in the middle of winter.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” Harry asks, leaning a centimeter forward so that Nora can feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

“Do you want me to?” she asks timidly, feeling his thumb gently caress her palm, his digit creating a tantalizing path from wrist to palm, back and forth, the sensation embarrassingly dizzying.

“Nora, I think I’ll die if you don’t kiss me ever again.”

Nora feels a breath trapped in her lungs, a hitch of her breath as she flicks her eyes back and forth, zeroing in on the enlargement of his pupils when he realizes that she hasn’t backed away from him yet. The revelation is so honest and so un-Harrylike that Nora isn’t sure why her lips aren’t fastened to his own yet, and when she finds that she hasn’t blinked in nearly sixty seconds, she brings her face just a bit closer to his, a subtle shift that causes the loud noise of the pub to fade into the background.

And just when she’s about to close the small distance between them, the tips of their noses brushing as their lips hover dangerously close to the others, sporadic spurts of hot breaths passing between the two like a secret, Piper calls Nora’s name from the bar, causing the sound of the busy pub to come crashing back into her ear canals, forcing Nora to spring backwards as if Harry’s lips were made of fire.

“Nora! Refills!” Piper yells over drunkenly, seemingly unaware that she interrupted Nora and Harry’s second first kiss in almost three years.

“I, uh—I should go,” Nora says quickly, cheeks permanently stained red as she tries her hardest to regulate her breathing.

“Yeah,” Harry says defeatedly, watching as she scrambles out of the old leather booth and stumbles over to the bar without looking at him over her shoulder.

When she’s finally gone, Harry sinks into the leather seating, slamming his head back against the booth as he struggles to get his erratic heartbeat back to the standard sixty beats per minute. His fingers itch for another drink, and when he maneuvers his legs out from under the table, he nearly flinches at the sudden tightness of his pants.

He looks down, noticing the slightly risen bump covering the front of his dark jeans, and he sighs frustratedly, running a shaking hand through his long, mangled curls.

He’s half-hard and embarrassed beyond disbelief at the fact that Nora’s lips barely grazing against his own roused such a reaction out of him.

Harry Styles truly is pathetic—pathetic, indeed.

***

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

For the Moots :) (pt. 1)

This is a little thank you to all my wonderful moots that have interacted with me and helped me through the trying time that was 2020 😔 but seriously, I love all you beautiful people and thank you for putting up with my awkward ass-

(Also yes I'm splitting this in 2 parts because I made a few of them longer than intended and I don't want this post to be a mile long 😐)

@euphoricsunflowers 🌻

Sub!wonho, dom!reader, dumbification, bondage, use of toys (vibrator), overstimulation, dacryphilia

You smirked down at your boyfriend as he squirmed beneath you, thighs shaking as you pressed the vibrator harder against his cock. The ropes that tied Wonho's wrists to the headboard proved to be strong enough to keep him exactly where you wanted him as he kept fighting against them to touch you. Realistically you both knew that he could get out of them in a second if he really wanted to, but the fact he chose to surrender all his power to you made your heart flutter. You were brought back to reality as Wonho let out another choked moan.

"What is it bunny? Are you gonna cum for me again?" He whimpered, unable to respond as his head flopped to the side. His eyes were clouded and rimmed red with tears with drool spilling down the corner of his mouth. 

"What, can't say anything? Why not bunny? Is it because I fuck you so good you can't think of anything else but me? Can't even form words cause of how good I make you feel?" He opened his mouth to respond but cut himself off with a pornographic moan,  making you giggle at his helpless state. He was your favorite like this, just a big dumb toy for you to use however and whenever you want.

@foenixs 💖

Sub!woozi, dom!reader, mommy kink, pegging, baby boy woozi (he's so cute 😔)

"Ngh- mommy!" Jihoon cried out, snuggling further into the stuffed bunny he had squished in his arms. What was supposed to be a calm movie night had quickly escalated when he accidentally spilled his drink all over his shorts and took them off, leaving him a hoodie that practically swallowed him whole. To be fair, how were you supposed to hold back from pouncing on him? That's why Jihoon was now on his knees and forearms on the couch with you kneeling behind him, thrusting into him with as much power as you could muster. You leaned over so your chest was pressed against his back.

"Is mommy making you feel good babyboy?" He whimpered as the tone of your voice, sounding so sweet even though you were fucking him as hard as you could. You could see the wide grin on his face as he nodded.

"Oh- yes! M-mommy feels so so good! Ngh- t-thank you mommy~" You giggled at how cute he was, pressing a kiss to his temple before returning to your original position. The night was only just beginning.

@vanillaknj 🥺👉👈

Sub!namjoon, dom!reader, oral (f recieving), crossdressing (he wears a skirt, thigh highs, and a crop top)

Another groan slipped past your lips as you pulled on Namjoon's hair, tugging him closer between your legs. Your boyfriend was always gorgeous, but tonight he had decided to go above and beyond. He had known you had been working your ass off all week and decided to give you a little present; the "little present" being him dressed up in a cute skirt, some thigh highs, and a matching crop top. You had been ready to devour him as soon as you saw him, but he insisted on taking care of you like the sweet boy he was.

"Oh fuck baby, just like that~" You growled out, making him whimper against you. You were practically suffocating him with how you grinded into him but he didn't seem to care as your release covered the bottom half of his face. He eagerly lapped it up, making sure not to waste a single drop before pulling away to look up at you. You lazily smiled down at him, gently running your fingers through his hair.

"Thank you baby, you made me feel so good. How about I return the favor?"

@baa-nana 😚

Sub!kevin, dom!reader, overstimulation, soft sex, praise (I guess?? It's just overall really soft), pegging

Kevin's whiny moans echoed through the room as you thrusted in and out of him at a steady pace, giving your hands that had been interlocked with his for the past few minutes, a quick squeeze.

"Aw, is my baby gonna cum?" He bit his lip with a nod, a shaky whimper escaping him. A soft smile lit up your face as you left a trail of kisses over his neck and shoulders, leaning up to leave the last on his lips. "Then go ahead beautiful. Cum for me." He muttered a mantra of 'thank you' as he arched his back up into you. His legs, as well as the rest of his body, trembled beneath you as his release finally hit him. His eyes rolled back in his head as his jaw dropped open in a silent moan. You bit your lip as you looked at him. A choked whimper was forced out of his throat when you started the movement of your hips again.

"I'm sorry baby, you just looked so pretty like that. You think you could do it again for me?"

@feelslikelove 🤗

No warnings really, just a fluffy jaehyun with no power dynamics

Jaehyun's arms were snug around your waist as you sat in his lap, the sound of his soft breathing calming you as you continued the book you were reading. The only other sound in the room was your playlist you had created for reading. A bright smile lit up your face when you heard the starting music of your favorite song, the quiet humming you had been doing before turning into quiet singing. Your boyfriend smiled as well, singing along with you while swaying in his place on the bed. You could tell from the sound of his voice that he was about to fall asleep. He couldn't see the smirk on your face as you saved your page and set the book down. He suddenly jolted beneath you as you started singing obnoxiously loud, letting out a groan at the sudden change in volume. You let out a squeak, stopping your singing as he tightened his grip around your waist and flopped over so you were in the spooning position as held you. You squirmed in his grasp, turning so you were face to face with him.

"I love you." You said with a light chuckle as you pressed a kiss to his nose. He opened his eyes to give you a small glare, grumbling something along the lines of "sure you do" which only made you laugh harder as he snuggled closer. Yeah, he loved you too.

[missjaystone]

Old Faces

Summary: The love of his life, the one that got away, finally comes back into Sam’s life and he loves the life they build together, but something... is off... Word Count: 2,490 Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader Warnings: Angst, panic attack, anxiety attack, implied smut

(Hate to do this to my man Sam, I love him to death and he deserves the entire universe. Part one of two. (Find Part 2 here))

Sam could never forget the first time he met you; Riley brought him home after their first tour together since Sam didn't have a family to come home to. Not that Riley had one either, he only had one person; his goddaughter, you. Sam had a pretty good idea of who you were since, according to him, Riley never shut up about you. He was so proud of you; you got into Quantico at 21, two years younger than their typical admission age of 23! You picked them up at the airport in late November, almost a week before Thanksgiving and you wore jeans with a dark blue hoodie, the words 'FBI Quantico' written in white on the front. You were vibrant, full of life and excitement. By the time Thanksgiving was over and he was going to his own place, he was head over heels in love with you. The only guilt he had was that you were only 23 at the time, more than 15 years his junior. By the time he'd worked up the nerve to ask Riley for permission, they were already due for their second tour; it'd have to wait until they got back. But, they never came back, Riley never came back. The same Sam Wilson that left was not the man who returned.

Five feet was all that was between him and the love of his life. Five feet between him and the one that got away, the one he never thought he'd see again. You just waltzed right into the VA, out of all the Veterans Affairs offices in the entire city of New York and you just walked right into the one he worked at in his free time, when he wasn't busy being an Avenger. He hadn't seen you in at least five, maybe seven years and he could see how you'd changed just in the way that you moved and conversed with the receptionist. You'd gained some muscle mass, that much was obvious even with your jacket on. You must've injured your left shoulder too, he could tell moving it too much or too quickly was painful, or at the very least uncomfortable. You wore a tired expression on your face, but not tired like you hadn't gotten enough sleep, tired like you'd just gotten out after fighting an unwinnable battle for too long. He knew exactly how that tired felt. Something about the moment seemed not-quite-right, it felt off. He couldn't place it so he ignored it.

So he approached you hesitantly, giving a small wave to get your attention; he'd learned his lesson about startling soldiers when Bucky nearly choked him for entering the living room and sitting on the couch too quietly. He watched you look over him for a brief second before recognition his and you nearly tackled him in a hug. He heard you groan quietly at the sudden movement but just tried to avoid adding pressure to your shoulder when he returned the tight hug "you're a sight for sore eyes, (y/n)." "So are you Sam, is this where you've been hiding?" You asked him with a teasing smile. "Sam Wilson never hides, what about you? Where the hell have you been?" He countered with a wide grin. "All over the place; DC, New Orleans, and now with any luck, New York permanently," you answered him, the two of you walking slowly as you conversed. "What do you do these days? And what brings you here?" He was curious as to where you'd been all these years. He hoped to god you weren't already married.

"Hm, I wonder what could possibly bring me to the Department of Veterans Affairs, I can't quite place my finger on it," you sarcastically thought out loud, making him roll his eyes. He was still smiling "very funny, I meant New York." "Work. I've been going around to different colleges teaching things like military history, strategic intelligence, and general polemology, and I just landed a more permanent position at Columbia," you answered with a casual shrug. He started to ask where you served but Steve calling him stopped that "Sam, we're needed at the tower!" He sighed quietly and sent you an apologetic smile "give me your number and we'll-" He paused, looking at you in shock when he saw his phone in your hand. You gave it back after a couple of seconds and smiled "old habits die hard, we'll get together later." "You need to stop pickpocketing people," he said as he smirked at you before jogging over to his friend.

Sam finally got back to you a week and a half later and you two caught up over coffee. He was repeatedly left awestruck when you told him about what you'd been up to. Gradually, your get-togethers turned from getting coffee two or three times a week to grabbing dinner and just getting together to talk and reconnect. It took a while and a lot of prodding from Bucky and Steve before he finally asked you on a proper date. He actually asked you out on Riley's birthday, you both had a laugh at that. Your dates were frequent, mainly whenever his Avenger schedule allowed it. He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone, he watched as you easily blended in with and meshed with everyone. It was perfect. You were perfect. Still, something seemed not-quite-right, it felt off. Yet, he still couldn't place it so he ignored it.

A year together flew by before either of you knew it. He'd already been contemplating when the perfect moment would happen but now, watching you look over the entire city from the Empire State Building Observation Deck with the sun setting behind you, he knew there'd never be a better time. He'd commit this moment to his memory for the rest of time. He got down on one knee while you were looking through one of the telescopes and took the little velvet box out of his pocket. He could see a few people stopping to watch out of his peripheral vision. When you finally did let go of the telescope and looked at him, you were visibly shocked "Sam? Are you-" You couldn't even finish the question as your eyes started to water when he nodded. His smiling face looked up at you as he, and all of the onlookers gathered around, desperately waited for a response. He watched as you nodded quickly, letting the happy tears fall "yes, hell yes!" He and the group that congregated around you cheered as he picked you up and spun you happily. He pointed over to where Redwing had been perched on a pole "Steve's been manning him so I could have this on video for us." You just laughed and pulled him into a kiss, feeling like you were both on cloud nine. This would be one of the greatest moments of his life. Still, something still felt off. He continued ignoring it. It must've been a little paranoia, so he brushed it off.

Both the wedding and the reception were small and intimate. Tony offered the compound for the tower for the venue and with much help from Pepper, he turned it into the most beautiful place you'd ever seen. Wanda, Pepper, and Natasha helped you pick out a wedding dress. While the three of them were eager to help you and Sam pick and plan, Steve and Bucky stepped back since they didn't have a clue. They helped Sam get the perfect suit; navy blue suit and jacket, white dress shirt, and a dark maroon tie. Planning started in January, a month after he proposed and you wed in May. He nearly cried when he saw you walking down the aisle, clearly holding himself back. You, however, didn't hold any tears back when you two exchanged vows, having to stop yourself at least eight times when you recited your own. Somehow, Vision got ordained, but nobody asked questions. The kiss you two shared was perfect, this was without a doubt, the absolute greatest moment of his life. Except, it felt off. But Sam was far too happy to pay any mind to the feeling he'd grown so used to ignoring.

Despite you and Sam both insisting a weekend away would be a good honeymoon, everyone wanted to send you off to somewhere nice for a couple of weeks. After collective brainstorming, they decided on and booked you two a 14-day all-inclusive honeymoon in Santorini, Greece. You were both pushed onto the Quinjet before you could object at all. Someone had already packed bags for both of you and loaded them on. The ride wasn't as long as you thought it would be and Clint bid you both goodbye and good luck. The hotel room was opulent; it was decorated beautifully with paintings and native flora and fauna, rose petals on the bed, a chilled bottle of champagne sat on the table; it honestly felt like a dream. "Well, Mrs. Wilson, shall we?" Sam asked but when you tried to step into the room, he picked you up bridal style and carried you inside. He set you down on the bed gently but quickly positioned himself over you, his forearm holding him up with his free hand stroked your cheek, looking into your eyes with such love and adoration it almost made you cry again. "I love you so much, and I always will," he whispered softly as he trailed kisses from your lips down along your jawline and to your neck. "I love you too, Sammy, more than anything," your voice was quiet, your mind too focused on the way he was kissing and paying special attention to that one sweet spot on your neck.

For the first three days, you and Sam spent the entire time in your hotel room, intertwined with each other in an intimate dance. Exploring the island was incredible, Sam loved watching you admire everything and really take in the culture. He never missed an opportunity to take new pictures of you. You were sending plenty of pictures to the team, thanking them a million times over for this gift. Sam particularly enjoyed watching you in the crystal clear turquoise waters. Watching you was like being ensnared by a siren's song, and it was a song he never wanted to end. Reality felt off but he'd long ago accepted it was just his subconscious waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Sam, wake up," your voice said as Sam was lightly shaken. Except, it wasn't exactly your voice, it sounded... off. He turned over and went to toss his arm around your waist and pull you close but was met with nothing. He furrowed his brows and looked around the room for you. Nothing. "(Y/n)?" Sam called as he got out of bed, pulling on whatever was closest to him. No answer. You weren't in the room or the bathroom, you weren't on the patio. He knows you would've left a note if you had gone somewhere. He starts to worry, he grabs his phone and scrolls through his contacts for your number but it's not there, neither are your text messages to each other; your pictures together are gone too. Even as Sam starts to full-on panic, he sees things around him starting to fade away; when he tries to grab something for stability, his hand goes through it. Soon, with everything gone, he's left in a white space with nothing around him. "Sam?" A distorted voice calls out, it's too masculine to be yours.

It sounds familiar, almost like Steve but not quite. "Sam, we need you to wake up right now," another equally distorted voice says and he swears he feels like someone lightly slapped his face. "Somebody go get Bruce!" a third voice calls, more of an order than a request; it was feminine but not yours, it sounded a bit like Natasha but not quite. "His vitals are spiking quite rapidly, he could be in danger very soon if we don't wake him up immediately," a digitalized voice said. Was it Vision, maybe?

Before Sam knew what was happening, he jolted up to a sitting position, gasping for breath. He was in his room at the Tower, everyone around him. He was soaking wet now and Bucky was holding an empty bucket behind his back. His eyes darted around the room anxiously as he questioned rapidly "where is she? What happened? How'd I just get here?" "Whoa, whoa, Sam, where's who?" Steve asked calmly as he gave his friend a towel. "What do you mean 'who'? My wife! My soulmate! Where's (y/n)?" He questioned, his anxious state making it come out harsher than he intended. Everyone still in the room shared a curious look before Steve cleared his throat "you aren't married Sam. You said you weren't feeling well last night so you went to bed early; you've been asleep for almost a whole 24 hours. We all rushed in when we started hearing things, then we heard screaming." Steve explained with a small frown. "We've been trying to wake you up for half an hour, whatever you were dreaming about must've been nuts," Bucky said, earning a look from Steve.

"His vitals are returning to normal, FRIDAY will keep a close eye though," Vision stated. Sam now sat in his bed in deep contemplative silence. "Do you need anything?" Steve asked, setting a hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly. Sam shook his head after a long minute "no, I think I just need to be alone for a bit to process." Steve nodded and headed for the door, Bucky following with Wanda and Clint in tow. Natasha sent him a small smile and stopped on her way out "call any one of us if you need something, anything at all." He nodded, watching her close the door behind her. He felt a lump in his throat; the best year of his life was a dream. The love of his life, his soulmate, coming back into his life was a dream. He wanted to yell, punch something, cry, rip his hair out, do something/anything to get rid of the pit he felt in his heart now. He wasn't going on without you anymore, he'd done his best to forget and suppress so you could find someone who didn't have nearly two decades on you but he couldn't anymore. He knew you were his soulmate when he first met you but he suppressed it, assuming it was misplaced affection. He knew when he and Riley shipped out for the second time that you were his soulmate because now, he wasn't fighting for the country out of respect or loyalty, he was fighting so you specifically could have a good be safe in this country. Now, he absolutely knew you and him were meant to be together, and he was going to find you. He couldn't bear the pain of knowing who his soulmate was and not having you.

[harmoni-me]

hi! wanted to tell you that i absolutely love your writing skills, it’s so different from the others that i've read and it makes me feel so warm inside. keep up the good work! i'm really looking forward to seeing more

if you don’t mind, i'd like to request for a poly nagito x sweetheart reader x kokichi where they’re still in the crushing/pining stage and being confused about their sexuality. thank you, have a good day/night!💙

Phew! I finally did it! My fingers kinda hurt from typing all this haha! But I loved the request a lot! I played around with the concept you gave me as well, so it’s a story that branches out into multiple styles of writing. I do have to warn you though, goodness is this one long! But I hope you enjoy it all in the same! <3

I’m so sleepy lol 

quick trigger warning beware! : There is a scene in this where a character goes through mental hysteria that contains some panic attack like symptoms. If you are sensitive to that writing, please, skip the the fluffy scene that if used for comfort right after :) (Or just don’t read it at all, don’t worry! Harmoni understands!)

Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma! Pt. 1

Also can we just talk about this gif? It makes me so happy...This artist is so good too like WHOA! Check them out! 

“No…“

“1, 2, 3, 4-“

“NO-“

“5, 6, 7, 8!” Nagito finished, moving the silver, dog-shaped play piece across the board in rhythmic taps.

“NOOOO! BOARDWALK, NAGITO?! FUCKING BOARDWALK?!” Kokichi shrieked in a fit of rage, slamming his Panta drink onto the table, while standing up and causing an absolute fit.

Nagito was chuckling at the enraged boy, who was now standing on the kitchen counters, stomping in pure fury. Kokichi was a huge brat. A clingy, competitive, always-begging-for-something, whole-hearted brat. Though, Nagito would have to admit that he could never stay mad at Kokichi, in fact, he would have to say that he barely gets mad at him. Ever. He reminded the white-haired boy of a playful puppy, bounding and bucking happily when getting what it wants. It made Nagito’s heart melt, evaporate, then simply melt again, even when he was a cursing mess stomping on the granite countertops, getting scratches all over it.

“Woah! Nagi, that’s amazing! You got Boardwalk really early in the game, that’s so cool!” You smiled, while also laughing at Kokichi’s ferocious cursing as ambiance. Your smile drove Nagito’s attention away from the angered boy, and his heart went through overdrive once he saw your sweet smile, radiating so much contagious joy. It’s almost as if he was on a roller coaster that contained a different track each and every time he rode it. One minute, his heart would be doing loops, and the next, it excitedly go up again.

. . .

Now, this is where the problem begins. Well, the one of three problems that plague the three individuals all playing a simple game of Monopoly on a Sunday night. This is Nagito’s problem: Whenever he has an effect on Kokichi, making him oh-so-lovable in his eyes, his heart swells and fills his chest to the brim. Oh, was this feeling that was so incredibly foreign to him feel so wonderful when it dawned upon him for the first time.

Nagito could always draw the memory back within his vision in surreal detail. Kokichi and Nagito were loitering in the hallways of Hope’s peak, with the shorter purple-haired boy dragging the pale, frizzy haired boy by the hand to apparently “Conjure up the biggest most awesome-est prank Hope’s Peak has every witnesses since built into existence”. Honestly, how could Nagito say no to something that holds so much potential hope and despair, all contained in one big gift-wrapped surprise of a prank on the whole school?

After planning for a few hours, Kokichi seemed to have a fuse broken in his brain due to thinking about a truly fool-proof plan. The somewhat drowsy prankster reached into his schoolbag and pulled out two twin bottles of grape Panta, sliding one over to an unsuspecting Nagito. The purple plastic bottle bonked into Nagito’s forearm, knocking the bottle down from the force.

“Nehehe, I guess you really are the Ultimate Lucky student, huh? It just so happens I packed an extra today, Shamrock! Make it up to me sometime soon, okaaaaay?” Kokichi giggled, teasing the lanky, somewhat socially-awkward Nagito who was sitting across from him on a desk within a totally abandoned classroom. Nagito thanked the other, though, Kokichi really couldn’t respond due to being in the middle of chugging his favorite carbonated drink.

Nagito turn to his own bottle. He wasn’t the biggest fan of old-fashioned artificial grape flavored things, but it wasn’t the worst. Plus, it would be quite rude to refuse a drink from a friend, right? So the white haired boy simply picked up the bottle, and twisted the cap off, as per usual etiquette of opening a soda bottle.

Splash

It didn’t take too long until Nagito knew what was going on. The drink had exploded everywhere. The bottle of soda was basically empty by the end of the grape-geyser showcase, and poor Nagito was left drenched in purple, sticky, sugary liquid. The drink already was starting to dry into a thin, sweet crust on his skin, making the boy on a whole other level of uncomfortable. Though, it was kind of expected that Kokichi would be absolutely laughing his butt off in the moment, sounding like some sort of hysteric hyena mixed with a duckling quacking at some breadcrumbs. It was a laughable sight, no doubt, Nagito literally looked like the embodiment of a sad, wet dog.

But then Kokichi settled down after a bit, controlling his breathing from the pathetic sight. After doing so, he got up out of his seat, and knelt down to scrummage through his bag, revealing a regular branded water bottle. He then made his way over to Nagito, and without hesitation, sat himself on his soda-soaked lap.

“Aww, really going for that kicked puppy look, are you now? Well, since I’ve had all my laughing fun from this, I guess it’s only natural that I help you out, hm? Or would you rather just stay just like this? Oh, now, I wouldn’t mind it if we did…though it seems your eyes beg to differ…well in that case, let’s clean you up, shall we?” Kokichi hummed, teasing the ever living daylights out of the wet and miserable boy.

Kokichi then did something that made Nagito’s heart pound harder than it ever had before. The teasing boy reached behind his neck, untying his beloved checkered bandana. He then carefully opened the water bottle, and poured the contents onto the fabric. Once ensuring it was thoroughly soaked, Kokichi started to wash off as much of the stickiness he could. to Ruffling Nagito’s hair, from gently washing his pale cheeks, which were now sprinkled with specks of rose, and finally gliding the cloth along Nagito’s clothes and hands.

A few things in Nagito’s mind had clicked into place after Kokichi had handled him with the care equal to that of a lover. Well, ironically, Nagito had caught feelings for his tiny little prankster brat of a friend. Was it a huge surprise? Not really, based on the track that Nagito was on.

Another piece of the puzzle had snapped: Kokichi was a a guy. That was something really to think about. Never had Nagito found men attractive, but…

Finally, the last, and most worrying puzzle piece out of them all: Kokichi wasn’t the only one he has fell for. His heart has become torn in that moment, with every day becoming more of a wrestling match to the death rather than a silly tug-of-war between feelings. The other side of his heart was unsure, and fell for another person that had lifted him up through his lowest lows, supporting him like a much needed pair of crutches when having a sprained ankle.

And that person, was you.

. . .

“Ok ok ok ok ok! Listen here you little damn shamrock you!” Kokichi huffed, now sitting back on the ground, leg crossed, “You and I both know that I have Park Place, right? Right! Now, my dear little clover, I want to make a deal with you, if you will?” Kokichi smirked with evil intent clear within his irises.

“Ooo! Deals! Nagi, I think you should listen to Kichi, making profitable partnerships is pretty much his specialty.” You giggled, basically becoming Kokichi’s personal little advocate. He let out a quick “Yeah, what she said!”, causing Nagito to laugh and nod, gesturing for an explanation of the deal.

“Well, personally, my little clover, I feel like we should team up, you know? We could completely dominate over sweet our little gumdrop over there, making them drop to their knees in submission to us. You know, I have a feeling you and I both would enjoy it...” Kokichi shuffled a little closer to the platinum blonde, voice dropping, “We could rule them over together, as equals, or even make them surrender if they ever have the chance-“

“Sure! Though, you should probably get out of jail first.” Nagito chuckled, making the other boy grumble.

“OH YOU-“

“Heeeeey! I wanna join in too! It sounds like you guys are having fun and stuff, while I’m all alone…” You puffed out your cheeks, sadness dripping in your voice.

Both of the boys shot up to look at your somewhat downcast features, and oh, how it wreaked their hearts in one fell swoop.

Kokichi automatically shot up from his position, puffing out his chest in preparation for a new speech.

“O-ok! New deal! We ALL join evil forces TOGETHER, and absolutely destroy the game with all of our property, while reaping in the greedy rewards of the capitalist regime!” Kokichi loudly proclaimed, chuckling at the end of his new deal.

You gasped, “Deal! Deal! Taking over a money-based board game with my two favorite people ever will always be a yes for me!” You laughed, smiling at the thought of the three of you taking over Hollywood streets with a pose of limos, while using bags stuffed with pure cash as weapons made it ten times funnier.

Kokichi smiled, resting his hands behind his head, “Yeah! Let’s end it here and just say that we kicked so much millionaire ass that we now have control over the whole economy!”

. . .

This is the second problem, Kokichi is so undeniably confused. About what? About himself. He was sure as all hell about how he felt about you, he always went soft and squishy for you, and not to mention he would be extra clingy when it had to do with you. Headpats? Common, and always appreciated. Cuddles? Been there, done that with you.

But, then there was Nagito. Kokichi would never say this out loud, but he thought that Nagito was so…pretty. And god, Kokichi was a huge sucker for pretty people. Though, once he realized that his feelings didn’t go to just one person, that’s when he started to panic.

He had to take in multiple things at once, trying to accept it all at once, but it was just so incredibly difficult. He has spent the whole entirety of his life to perfect the art of lying, and one thing that he learned constantly manipulated his own mind and thought process, tearing it into metaphorical shreds.

In order to pull out a lie that everyone can believe, you have to lie to yourself, and proclaim your own illusion of your truth.

Did Kokichi want to believe he was immensely attracted to Nagito, who just happened to be a guy? No, he really didn’t. It wasn’t normal.

Did Kokichi want to believe that he had fallen so fucking in love with two of his closest friends? Hell no. In society, you had to pick and choose, it’s one or the god damn other.

Right?

One night, all of these feeling and thoughts rushed into the boy’s conscious all at once, building immense pressure within his head and chest. Was this a nightmare, or-

Suddenly, his throat started to close up on him, making him gasp out in agony, wheezing on the covers of his bed, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes.

Instinct kicked in within the speed of light. Kokichi shakily reached over to his phone, grasping onto it, and quickly set up a group call. Almost immediately, the two people he was panicking over had picked up.

“Hello? Kokichi? Is there anything you need?” A raspy voice rang out. It seems as if Nagito was awoken by the sudden calling.

“Yeah, Kichi? Is there anything wrong?” You softly spoke through the phone. It calmed Kokichi a little just hearing the two of you guy so worried over him.

“I-I know It’s out of the blue-“ Kokichi gasped for air “B-but can you guys please come over?”

And oh boy, did you and Nagito get there in record time.

After just a mere ten minutes, you and Nagito were outside of Kokichi’s bedroom door, and the both of you could hear the desperate hiccups and gasps of your poor friend.

The both of you had no doubts, nor questions. You just wanted the struggling boy to feel safe.

“We’re coming in.” You said, affirming your actions with light knocking on the bedroom door.

When the both of you came face to face with a Kokichi with puffy red eyes, clutching his heaving chest, and thick tears rolling down his face, it felt like the both of you just got shot in the heart, the weight of it sinking down into the stomach, emitting a feeling that could only be described as pure pity. But the two of you automatically got to work.

Sooner rather than later, You and Nagito were cuddling Kokichi from either side, supporting him, as well as being his shield for protecting his small, delicate frame from his own cruel thoughts. You had started to run your fingers through Kokichi’s hair, causing his breaths to become fuller, and not nearly as hitched. Nagito also wanted to contribute in his own way, so he decided to mindlessly draw messy shapes and squiggles into Kokichi’s side, hoping that what he was doing would be of any help.

After only a mere five minutes, Kokichi had passed out from exhaustion, but the two of you kept on doing what you were doing, wanting for the boy in-between you two to have sweet dreams about all of what he desires all night long.

Kokichi has never let go of that memory, and never will for the rest of his life, and it’s a constant reminder on how much he had lied to himself. He actually wanted the truth out of something for once in his life, and that was how long it would be in order for the loves of his life to live without restraint of societal chains. Whenever it was, he would always be ready. Always, with arms as open as the horizon.

. . .

“Why in the world are we watching Big Hero 6 again? Didn’t we watch this, like, a month ago?” Kokichi trudged from the microwave, to the plush couch, bowl of buttered popcorn in hand.

“(Y/N) wanted to watch it, is there a problem?” Nagito tilted his head, holding the remote, about to press play. You were bouncing in anticipation, because this movie was just never a disappointment.

“Hm, well, I GUESS there’s nothing wrong with it….just don’t be surprised when you hear me snoring.” Kokichi huddled up beside you, placing the bowl of popcorn on you lap.

“I deem you the popcorn peacemaker! Your job is to make sure no one’s being a pig.” Kokichi snickered, while you giggled at your new role in life.

“Nagi? You like popcorn, right? Here!” You placed the bowl on his lap, causing him to smile.

“Hey, HEY! NO! That means I have to reach my WHOLE ARM over to to Lucky boy, JUST SO I CAN GET SOME POPCO-“

“Sh sh sh! The movie is starting!” You giggled, shushing the purple haired boy, while you heard a little chuckle from the white haired boy who was next to you.

. . .

The last problem was you. Your heart bubbled up in joy whenever you where around these boys, making your face erupt like a volcano whenever something slightly suggestive is aimed at you when it has to do with either one of them. You liked both of them, a lot, and you gave everything in order for the three of you to flourish in bountiful friendship. Yeah, that’s the problem, it was friendship.

Oh, how desperately you wished that everything could be easy! If life were like an infinite rolling of crashing waves, things would be flawless, predictable even. Unfortunately, life really likes to give you the short end of the stick, and this was honestly one of the shortest sticks someone like you would have never asked for. The loving of two men, both equally, and having an intense desire to treat them as lovers. What would they do as lovers? Where would they go as lovers? The questions and possibilities are endless…

The only time where you felt as if the friendship could’ve resembled anything somewhat romantic, was a summer evening trip to the beach.

The water was the perfect temperature, the ocean was as clear as glass, and the sand didn’t burn the soles of your feet. The boy’s were in their swimming trunks, having their own little fun. Nagito was afraid of getting to deep into the ocean, so you always stayed in the shallow end, trying to capture as many tiny fishes as you could with your bare hands.

Kokichi insisted that him and Nagito bury you in sand, leaving your head poking out of a sandy little cocoon. When the sun started to set, you got some supplies that you brought, and lit the fire that the group planned to create. Everyone gathered around it, cooking hot dogs on sticks, and crafting tasty s’mores that we fed each other.

One could say that that night might be the most casual and platonic friend trip ever, but something was off.

Everyone looked at each other differently that night. When looking into their eyes, it was oddly intimate. It was like all of the stars in the night sky reflected off their eyes conveyed so much...love.

That night, you felt so adored, so cherished and cultivated to the brim of your existence. You felt something, and maybe the other boy’s did too, but that feeling has changed your life.

Thanks to these stupid boys; These stupid boys that you’ve given so much to, you don’t think you could ever love any other.

One you’ve helped get out of a terrible degradation cycle, another you’ve helped to not lie to himself, and not as much to others.

And thanks to your down to earth humility, your heart has been stolen, and it was going to stay taken by those lovely, unique boys who have helped you out of so many ditches, and so many of life’s cracks and dents. God, how could you not fall?

Their lives were precious to you, but you had no idea how they would feel about an actual relationship, so you’ve always been terrified. Petrified and paralyzed to the bone to ever think of what may happen if you were the cause of the fracture of the friendship. You didn’t want to ruin something that has taken so long to build, yet can be torn all down due to a selfish desire.

But, maybe, just maybe, if they went to you first, confessed everything that was bottled up inside, dittoed on how you felt…

Then you might just be the luckiest person to live on this earth, there’s no doubt about that.

[eggtoasties]

dazed bees to honey

Pairing: Shisui Uchiha/Sakura Haruno

Rating: T

Word Count: 6.3k

Better on AO3

Chapter 2

______________________________________

Getting Sakura’s attention had been…difficult at best. Trying to work around his erratic schedule was near impossible given Sakura’s equally hectic schedule and Shisui wasn’t sure how to approach the Hokage and demand that she rearrange his missions to better accommodate his dating schemes.

But, he had never met anyone more alluring—the sway of Sakura’s hips, the creaminess of her skin, the way her eyes lit up when he brought little trinkets he acquired from far away missions. She makes the blood rush to his cheeks when she makes fun of him and he had never known that getting his bones crushed would make him feel like he was the luckiest man on Earth.

She was the sun—bringing him light and warmth like he had never before experienced, and he was the moon orbiting around her. He needed to be closer; he wanted to be consumed by her. She could crack his chest open in two and carve her name in the ribs protecting his heart and it still wouldn’t be close enough.

He just didn’t know how to tell her.

___

Shisui had been idly sharpening kunai at his dining room table waiting for his bread to proof, when he received a summons. Tapping at the balcony door, a small crow was impatiently waiting for Shisui to retrieve the message tied at its foot. Wondering why Itachi sent a crow instead of making the short trip to his apartment, Shisui set his weapon down and ambled towards the sliding glass door, making sure to grab seeds for the summons.

Letting out a squawk, the crow started pecking at his door faster. Alarmed that Itachi was possibly in danger, Shisui shunshined to the balcony and grabbed the crow to get to the message. Puffing its feathers and pecking at Shisui’s hands, the summons squawked indignantly and Shisui offhandedly wondered when Itachi had kept such poorly behaved crows.

Gently releasing it into the air and unfurling the message, Shisui read:

Came back from the mission a few days ago. At training ground 7 if you’d like to join. -S. Haruno

His heart pounded. Sakura was back in the village and she contacted him promptly afterwards to ask to spar? Dough be damned he was sprinting to training ground 7, he thought giddily. He looked down at himself—green fuzzy socks, loose gray sweats, and an old t-shirt—he had to get ready! His cheeks warmed. Wait, he mentally stammered. How did she know where he lived? How did she know where to send the summons to? Did she snoop around his medical files to find his address because for some reason, that made his throat dry.

Running to his bedroom while haphazardly throwing his clothes off, he suddenly stilled again. She had sent him a crow? She had a crow summons? There were a few crow summoners in the village, Shisui reasoned. She could have gotten a contract from Aoba or someone else. But, the thought of Itachi presenting the summoning contract that he had bestowed as a sign of trust and friendship made Shisui frown. As the elder, and the first contract holder, he should have been the one to give her the contract to sign. Or, Itachi should have gone to him and inform Shisui of his intentions.

Nodding to himself, Shisui made a note to stop by Itachi’s house later and question him.

___

Arriving at the edge of training ground 7 in record time, Shisui paused as he saw Sakura and Itachi in their uniforms warming up together. Sakura was in standard uniform sans the flak jacket and Itachi was in his ANBU uniform as always. Shisui fidgeted uncomfortably. He had worn what Itachi rudely called “the douchebag” shirt—a loose black sleeveless top where the arm holes were cut down to the bottom of his ribs. The tank top, Itachi always lectured, could hardly be defined as a shirt since it was so open. Itachi had questioned the practicality of a training top that would leave one so vulnerable to weapons and Shisui at the time, had retorted that he would understand when he was older.

Beginning to wonder if he should discreetly go back home to change, Sakura and Itachi called Shisui over.

“Oh, you came!” Sakura shouted excitedly as she beckoned him towards the middle of the training field.

As he walked slowly towards the pair, Itachi assessed Shisui.

“I see you got my summons,” he said, raising his eyebrow when he took in Shisui’s clothes. “Nice pants.”

Shisui flushed. He had chosen his tightest black training pants. Pants that he knew made his ass look good, thank you very much, but at the moment he was wondering if Sakura would think he was trying too hard. Or worse, he mentally shuddered, a douchebag.

“I was excited when Itachi told me you were in the village. I wanted to work on my response times with you,” Sakura started, interrupting Shisui’s mental torture. His heart fluttered at the thought of her wanting to spar with him and he let out a little breath of relief realizing that the crow was indeed Itachi’s. He crossed his arms in a poor attempt to cover the long slits in his shirt.

“I can dodge pretty much anything,” Sakura continued, beginning to sway on the balls of her feet, pink pony tail swinging with the motion. “But I wanna see how I’ll do against an opponent I can’t hit—or at least that’s what Itachi says,” she said, smiling at him prettily.

The early morning sun illuminated her face and made her green eyes impossibly bright. The faint ring of gold around her pupils winked at him and he swore he could feel his pulse reverberate in his skull. He realized she was waiting for a response. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, and all he could muster out was a weak, “Sounds good.”

Sakura nodded happily and walked a few paces away from him, wringing out her arms. Suddenly pulling out kunai from her holster and twirling them around her forefingers, she faced him.

“Taijutsu only. Ready whenever you are, Shisui-san.”

___

She was fast, Shisui noted. He had expected as much given the way she took him by surprise in her office, cutting his shunshin off. He also factored in the fact that she regularly trained with Itachi, Sasuke, and Kakashi who were notoriously quick on their feet. But, not as fast as him.

Flickering in and out of her reach, he studied her movements with his sharingan. He knew that Itachi was on the sidelines, similarly monitoring her, but Shisui wanted to brand the image of her looking at him like he was prey for the rest of his life. Sakura was an incredibly flexible fighter, he noted. Depending on the type of attack, weapon, and opening he left, she would quickly and seamlessly recalibrate.

There were times her movements reflected Tsunade-sama’s—sharp and fast and meant to obliterate. Other times, Shisui realized, she would adopt Might Guy’s Strong Fist technique, Asuma’s melee style, or most surprisingly, the graceful but precise movements of the Gentle Fist technique.

Bracing a chakra enforced forearm against a kick to his head he asked, “Who taught you the Gentle Fist?”

Grunting and trying to strike his open stomach she responded, “My graduating class has two Hyuugas.” He side stepped away from her punch and flickered behind her. Ducking when she swung a kunai to his head and dodging the knee about to pummel his face, he shunshined a little farther away.

“Hyuuga don’t hide their techniques because no one can use it without the Byakugan, but someone would have had to teach you those movements,” he said breathing heavily.

“Kakashi copies them to piss people off and I was—am close to them,” Sakura said catching her breath. He watched as she pressed the back of her hand to her sweaty forehead and picked the hem of her shirt up to wipe at the rest of her face. Her toned stomach glistened with sweat. Little rivulets of perspiration rolled down her abs and Shisui cursed, damn.

“Was it the little Hyuuga genius? Neji-kun?” Shisui asked, remembering Sasuke’s clear distaste for the boy.

Itachi chose then to materialize in Shisui’s line of vision, cutting his view of Sakura. Pouting, Shisui flash stepped in front of Sakura, startling her while Itachi began his commentary on what and how Sakura could improve as well as ideas for them to try out.

The rest of their morning session consisted of Itachi valiantly trying to train while Shisui cast low level genjutsus of himself telling Itachi to leave. Itachi dispelled the genjutsus, but Shisui relentlessly recast them, sometimes conjuring up little dancing animals or mini Sasukes berating him to leave. Tiring of Shisui’s antics, Itachi dejectedly sat on the ground and began his stretches, saying that they should call it a day.

“Are you alright? You seemed distracted today—I definitely hit you more than usual,” Sakura said kneeling in front of him, raising a glowing green hand to his chest.

“Thank you—I’m fine,” Itachi responded tiredly. “It’s just that Shisui,” he said harshly, glaring at him over Sakura’s shoulder, kept telling me to leave.”

Alarm bells started ringing in Shisui’s head and he looked incredulously at his cousin. His cousin who sold him out. His decidedly, least favorite cousin. He glared back at Itachi. Shisui flashed his dimples which made Itachi narrow his eyes further.

“Sorry, cousin,” Shisui started. “I’m just absolutely starving and wanted to eat—you know how I am when I want something,” he said, throwing his arms behind his head and wiggling his eyebrows at his cousin.

“Annoying? Irritating? Childish?” Itachi grumbled, causing Sakura to giggle. “Sakura,” Itachi started. “Would you want to go to that new bakery in the North District? I’ve only heard incredible things about their rhubarb ice cream,” Itachi said excitedly, ignoring the way Shisui was pouting and lightly kicking at the ground.

Sakura finished healing Itachi and slowly rose, dusting the dirt from her knees and wiping her hands against her thighs. “Ooh, that sounds really nice, but I should probably get real food before I start on desserts,” Sakura laughed.

Not to be outdone, Shisui stepped beside Sakura. “I agree, let’s get lunch Sakura-sensei,” he chirped while resting his hand against Itachi’s head, who was still sitting down. Scowling, Itachi yanked on Shisui’s arm, making his older cousin stumble, and jabbed the back of his knee. Pleased that Shisui was now sprawled in the dirt, Itachi rose and said, “Well, I’m also going to get sesame cookies,” he sniffed. “Good luck with this,” Itachi said to Sakura, poking an incensed Shisui with his sandal. “And thank you for the coconut oil.”

With that, Itachi gracefully straightened himself out and walked towards the edge of the clearing, waving back at Sakura.

___

Shisui and Sakura made their way towards the main hub of Konoha. Excited to be alone with her, Shisui asked her questions about her last mission and her work at the hospital. He listened intently as she recalled the mission details, chuckling when she complained about the humidity in Waterfall, telling her he completely understood while pointing to his curly hair. She talked animatedly about her research project at the hospital. Although he didn’t understand about seventy five percent of what she was explaining, he nodded dutifully, lips quirking as he watched her excited hand movements as she discussed…molecular interventions through pathogenic mechanisms of neurocristopathies—he thinks.

Humming at the right times and throwing in a “oh, really—what does that mean?” every so often, he basked in her voice. Her voice, Shisui decided, was his favorite sound in the entire universe. Wanting to sit down together, he interrupted her briefly to point at the first restaurant he saw.

“How’s ramen sound, Sakura-sensei?” he asked.

“And that’s why normal and pathological neural crest cells—” Sakura, paused. “Oh, Ichiraku’s is fine. Did you know this is Team 7’s spot?” she asked, heading towards the shop. “We used to eat at Ichiraku’s a few times a week,” she scrunched her nose in distaste, “when we were genin,” she finished.

“Itachi says Sasu-chan always complains about Naruto-kun’s ramen eating habits but I didn’t realize this was your guys’ place of choice,” Shisui chuckled. “Does he know that the stand two streets over also does a killer ramen? A gal needs variety if I recall correctly,” he threw in cheekily. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he continued. “There’s also this other place that has great ambience and incredible food—you should come some time?” he voice rising in speed and pitch at the end of the sentence.

Her step faltering, Sakura looked up at Shisui. “Huh?” she questioned at his word choice, “What is it?”

“My place,” he responded quickly, smiling sunnily at her and ignoring the rush of blood to his face.

Shisui’s heart thundered at the way her mouth opened in surprise and he felt his bones reverberate when the tips of her ears turned pink. While she scrunched her nose at the cheesy line, she couldn’t help the way her lips quirked up.

“Well—”

“SAKURA-CHAN!” Naruto screamed, running towards her from down the street, waving both hands excitedly. Behind Naruto, walking at a leisurely pace, was Itachi and Sasuke. Sending Shisui an apologetic smile, Sakura faced Naruto as he spun her around in a hug.

Exasperated, Shisui watched Itachi amble towards him and sent him a mental middle finger. Looking pleased with himself, Itachi didn’t even try to hide his smirk behind his massive ice cream cone.

“Me and teme ran into Itachi-nii and he said you and Shisui-nii were around here somewhere,” Naruto exclaimed. Turning to acknowledge Shisui he said, “Oh, dude nice pants, your ass looks great in them—let’s all get Ichiraku!” he shouted, grabbing Sakura’s wrist and running towards a waving Teuchi.

Shisui stood alone in the middle of the street with his mouth slightly open. Itachi joined his side while Sasuke trailed after his two teammates, not before assessing Shisui’s shirt and pants and throwing him a grimace.

“Tch,” Sasuke said dismissively.

“You love this don’t you, Itachi.”

“Ah,” he responded. Itachi angled his ice cream towards Shisui and raised a brow.

“No.”

Itachi pouted.

___

Bounding ahead to Ichiraku’s, Naruto pulled the chair against the wall with a flourish, exaggerating a bow and extending his hand towards Sakura. Easily following the mimicry of their genin days, she giggled and pretended to ignore him. Sakura took the seat at the middle of the bar which Sasuke quietly pulled out for her.

Pouting, Naruto complained, “Aw, c’mon Sakura-chan, you don’t actually want to sit next to teme, do you? He asked, easing in the seat to her left.

“It’s so she can mediate when you eventually say something stupid to piss me off,” Sasuke said, distributing the menus.

Sakura punched him in the arm in response and turned to chat about the menu with Naruto. When Shisui and Itachi settled into the wooden seats next to Sasuke, Sakura asked,

“How long are you two in the village for?” leaning towards Shisui and Itachi.

“We’ll both be local for about a week.” Itachi offered, now nibbling delicately at his cone.

“They’ve both been easing back on their ANBU duties and are doing more stuff for the clan,” Sasuke supplied, absentmindedly picking at a paint chip on the counter.

Whooping in response Naruto added, “Hell, yeah!” he threw a fist into the air. “Now you guys can train with us more! And Itachi-nii,” he started, leaning back in his chair to look at Itachi, “if you could bring more of those rice balls you made last time, they were incredible, dattebayo!”

Smiling, Itachi leaned back to discuss snacks with Naruto.

“And what about you, Sakura-sensei,” Shisui asked, completely pushing Sasuke out of the way.

Grumbling, Sasuke pushed back at Shisui, which the elder responded by trapping a hissing Sasuke in a headlock.

Rubbing Sasuke’s head placatingly, Sakura said, “I should be staying in the village for the next week too—there’s a lot of hospital stuff I’ve got to do.” Nodding to Teuchi as he placed her order in front of her, she added, “I’m glad you’ll be in the village this week, we should train together again—if you want,” she fiddled with her wooden chopsticks. “It was great to spar with you and watch you, I learned a lot.”

Jealous that he wasn’t invited to the spar, Sasuke wrenched himself from Shisui’s grasp and aggressively ripped his chopsticks apart. Noting his little brother’s behavior, Itachi chuckled and said, “I just told Naruto I’d stop by your training this week, otouto.”

“Tch,” Sasuke responded. But, the way his shoulders relaxed and he smiled gently into his bowl made it clear he was pleased.

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto started. “I feel like I never see you anymore!” he said between bites of ramen. “Let’s do a Team 7 get together—you, me, teme, Kaka-sensei, Yamato Taichou, and Sai too!” he slurped noisily.

“Yeah you’re right,” Sakura sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “With all my projects, the hospital, and,” she waved her hands distractedly, “we haven’t hung out in a while.” Frowning lightly she said, “We could do it at my place, but I don’t know if I could fit everyone…” she trailed off.

Sensing the opportunity, Shisui swooped in. “You should invite your friends over, Sasu-chan,” he mockingly admonished.

Ignoring Shisui’s baiting and staring down at his bowl, Sasuke grumbled.

“Absolutely no-“

“Your friends are coming over?” Itachi asked excitedly.

“No-“

“Yes!” chorused Naruto, Sakura, and Shisui.

“They’re,” Sasuke started, pointing his chopsticks at Naruto, “going to make a mess.”

Ignoring Sasuke’s continued rumblings, Itachi started to list off different food and dessert ideas to Naruto who grew more and more excited by his suggestions if his hand waving was anything to go by. Glancing sharply to his right at an extremely pleased Shisui, Sasuke scowled.

“I know you just took advantage of nii-san’s househusband fantasies,” Sasuke whispered sharply. In the background, Itachi was dreamily listing the various courses he thought would best suit Team 7’s tastes while Naruto and Sakura egged him on with ideas of their own.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Shisui responded smugly, leisurely slurping his noodles.

Irritated, Sasuke leaned across Shisui to talk some sense into his brother, but Itachi was staring serenely into space, using his full genius brain to plan out dinner. Huffing, Sasuke hunched in his seat and poked dejectedly at his noodles, missing the way Sakura peered past him.

___

Dinner at the Uchiha household was scheduled that Friday—a few days after lunch at Ichiraku’s. Shisui, conscious to not make another questionable fashion choice, opted for black training pants and a traditional Uchiha top—short sleeved and high collared with the Uchiha fan embroidered on the back.

Arriving at the head family’s home, he was greeted by a tired looking Fugaku who wearily told Shisui that everyone was in the kitchen. Laughing to himself, Shisui figured that Itachi and Mikoto had ran Fugaku to the ground with dinner preparations. Trailing after his uncle towards the kitchen, he saw Sasuke tending to a flower bouquet.

“Why are you here?” Sasuke asked, incensed.

He ignored the venom in his younger cousin’s eyes since he didn’t look very intimidating with carnations in hand. Shisui presented a tin-foil covered pan.

“He made shokupan,” Itachi said breezily.

“They should be here any minute! Sasuke, Fugaku, go set the table and get the plum wine out of the fridge,” Mikoto ordered, putting last minute touches on the pastries she and Itachi were decorating.

In a few minutes, there was knocking at the front door and Itachi went out to greet Sakura and Naruto.

“Come on in,” Itachi said happily. Leading them inside he said, “I ran to the store earlier today and got everyone slippers,” pointing to the neat row along the wall.

“Wow, Itachi-nii. You really got this mom thing down,” Naruto noted, nodding to himself.

“You think?” Itachi smiled serenely and Sakura giggled at his pastel yellow apron with white trimming.

“No one else could make it today,” Sakura said frowning. Handing a wrapped plant to Itachi she said, “Yamato Taichou and Sai are out on a mission, Kakashi said he was…busy…” she trailed off.

Humming to himself while inspecting the healthy green leaves of the plant and the tasteful wrapping, Itachi said, “Sakura, you really didn’t have to.” But the pleased look on his face said otherwise.

“Hey! I helped too!” Naruto interrupted loudly.

___

Settling himself at the low dining room table, Fugaku sat at the head of the table. To his right was Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke. To his left sat Mikoto, Itachi, and Shisui.

“Wow, everything looks incredible,” Sakura gushed at the spread.

Naruto nodded enthusiastically, eyes gleaming. “Mikoto oba-chan, Itachi-nii, you guys really out did yourselves!”

“I helped too, dobe,” Sasuke grumbled.

“I made the shokupan!” Shisui chirruped.

It was a little too much food for the seven of them, Shisui noted. He looked down to the heaping bowl of white rice in front of him with a hearty serving of stew to its right—steam still emanating from both. Each person also had an individual portion of teriyaki salmon, its sweet glaze reflecting the dining room light above them. Sat on the middle of the traditional table, Itachi and Mikoto also prepared stir fried vegetables, soba salad, fried tonkatsu, mapo tofu, and tempura on large serving plates. The dishes took every space of the dining room table, some of it teetering dangerously close to an edge—the table overflowed with intermingling spices and glistening sauces.

Shisui blanched knowing that dessert was bound to be a similarly overwhelming experience.

Saying a brief thanks to his guests, Fugaku uttered a brief, “Itadakimasu,” and began eating.

___

Between the passing of dishes, clinking of chopsticks, and hums of pleasure, easy chatter filled the room.

“Thank you for the coconut oil dear, it works so well,” Mikoto smiled at Sakura over her glass of wine.

Dabbing her lips delicately after devouring several slices of tofu, Sakura shook her head.

“It was no problem—thank you,” she said, looking at Mikoto and Itachi, “for the dumplings. I ate them all in one sitting they were incredible,” she gushed.

Sasuke grumbled beside her, saying he had helped too and that it shouldn’t be physically possible to consume that many dumplings at once, but his mother cut him off.

“I heard we have Hyuuga Neji-kun to thank for the hair tips?” Mikoto teased.

At the mention of Neji, Shisui slowed his chewing and conceded defeat to Naruto, who was not-so-subtly trying to eat all of the tempura as quickly as possible. Shisui looked discreetly at Sakura to see how she would respond.

Sakura was caught by surprise at the comment and her spoon hovered in midair for a millisecond. Processing the joke, her shoulders shook lightly as she giggled and playfully rolled her eyes.

Naruto, with a mouthful of food said, “Neji does have nice hair, ‘ttebayo.”

Choking a little when Sasuke elbowed him in the stomach he stuttered, “A-ah, not as nice as yours, Sakura-chan!” The table laughed at the duo in response.

“Itachi-nii, you should quit ANBU and become a cook, this is the best food I’ve had in forever,” Naruto said dreamily.

Fugaku frowned deeply into his wine. “Yes, Itachi, when will you quit ANBU and fully take on your duties as clan head?”

Fugaku’s shoulder length brown hair had streaks of gray in it, which Mikoto lovingly said made him look refined although she had hardly aged in the past five years. His face showed years of exhaustion and responsibilities with his heavy brow and fine lines at the side of his mouth. His hands were still rough and battle worn despite it being years since his active duty days. Despite it all, his eyes were still keen, sharp as flint, and just as dark.

The rest of the table stilled with Fugaku’s displeasure—the Uchihas either frowning at Fugaku or throwing Itachi an apologetic glance. Sakura and Naruto ate impossibly quicker.

“Well Father,” Itachi started breezily, taking a languid sip of his glass. “You still have life in you yet.”

Preparing for an even more disgruntled Fugaku, Naruto and Sakura nervously chattered about the incredible food, piling each other’s plates even higher, and Shisui off handedly wondered if Sasuke had ever mentioned that Sakura’s appetite matched Naruto’s.

Surprising his guests, Fugaku wearily sighed into his rice bowl. “Son, please put me out of my misery so I can spend time with my wife.”

Over Mikoto’s pleased giggles and Sasuke’s embarrassed choke, Sakura and Naruto stopped their babbling to stare openly at Fugaku. Realizing that their surprise was obvious, they busied themselves again with food, ignoring Sasuke’s second-hand disgust.

“And Shisui,” Fugaku said sharply, cutting off whatever sly retort he had prepared on the tip of his tongue, “when will you fully accept the mantle as the police force commander?” he questioned.

Ignoring Shisui’s attempt at a response, Fugaku braced his hands on the floor behind his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Why Itachi and Sasuke don’t want to take over the police force is beyond me,” he muttered to himself as Mikoto gently consoled him.

Laughing at his uncle’s tiredness Shisui joked, “Well oji-san, given that Itachi’s biggest dream is being a full-time househusband—” Naruto looked incredibly interested at this prospect. “—and mine is living on oba-san’s food for the rest of my life,” Sasuke rolled his eyes at this. “Maybe we’ll make you suffer a little longer.”

Shisui raised his glass to Itachi, who clinked his glass in return, happily sipping the plum wine at the expense of an entirely spent Fugaku who mumbled to himself about shattered retirement dreams.

___

After dinner, Naruto and Sakura helped clear out the dishes despite Mikoto and Itachi’s protests. While Sasuke and Fugaku were relegated to cleaning the dishes, Shisui prepared the tea while Mikoto and Itachi set the table with dessert.

Surprisingly, dessert wasn’t as overwhelming as Shisui thought it would be. There was sakuramochi at the center of the table, elegantly plated in a neat line on a porcelain plate, the pickled blossom leaf folded meticulously over each cake. Itachi’s eyes crinkled towards Sakura while setting it down. Mikoto placed the higashi towards the end of the table, near Sasuke’s seat. The biscuit-like sweet, Shisui noticed amusedly, had uzumaki swirls pressed onto each biscuit. Shisui’s shokupan was also set down alongside a small pot of honey and jam. The last dessert was Fugaku’s favorite: butter cookies. Each cookie was a perfect circle and slightly browned at the edges. But to Shisui’s increased amusement, a black, three-tomoe sharingan was stenciled in icing on each cookie.

Settling back at the table, Sasuke looked at each dessert in growing exasperation before taking in the sharingan butter cookies. He glanced at Itachi in thinly veiled disbelief, but Itachi was intently staring at his guests’ reactions.

Sakura and Naruto had expressions of awe on their face. Naruto, with one hand on his protruding stomach looked a little nauseous when he said, “Wow…you really went all out on this team dinner…it looks so good dattebayo,” he finished weakly.

Sakura, trying to make up for her teammate’s lack of gusto quickly chirped, “I’m SO impressed with your icing skills,” she gushed, “I tried once and it was a complete failure,” she pouted, running a hand through her ponytail. “I’m so full from that incredible dinner but we’ll,” she quickly darted her eyes to Naruto, “make sure and try everything,” she finished, silencing Naruto’s protests.

As Itachi went prattled on the fine details of piping, not icing, because they’re obviously very different, Shisui idly wondered if Sasuke never hosted team dinners because of Itachi.

___

As everyone forced themselves to eat as much dessert as possible for Itachi’s sake, at the head of the table, Mikoto was cajoling her husband in hushed tones and nudging him with her shoulder.

“Sakura dear,” Mikoto started, which silenced the rest of the table. Mikoto turned her head to her husband. He responded by straightening his back and clearing his throat a few times.

“Sakura,” he started stiffly, not quite looking her in the eye. “Thank you,” Fugaku said, “for your work with the clan medics.

Shisui looked at his uncle, then Sakura in surprise—he hadn’t known just how close she was to the Uchiha clan. Looking around the table, no one else seemed to be surprised with her work, more so surprised at Fugaku’s thanks.

Sakura smiled kindly at Fugaku and Mikoto. “You’re welcome, the sharingans a tricky kekkai genkai and the blockages in the delicate blood vessels are definitely hard to work with, but working with Sasuke and Kakashi gave me a leg up. I’m just happy you allowed me to treat your clan members and train your clan medics.”

“With your instruction, Sakura-chan,” Mikoto began, “nearly every clan member has noted a mental and physical improvement. The Uchiha owe you a life debt.” Fugaku, Itachi, and Sasuke nodded in agreement.

Blushing at the compliment, Sakura shook her head. “Thank you, but you all don’t owe me anything. The payment, as agreed, was fully enough.”

Shisui paused. He hadn’t realized that Sakura had found a way to ease the pain the sharingan brought. Having awoken his mangekyo at an extremely young age, he was used to the near perpetual eyestrain and frequent migraines that came with overuse. He had given up on his clan medics’ treatment for his eyes since they’d been ineffective over the years. Incredibly interested at the prospect of relieving his pain he quickly turned to Sakura.

She was still talking to Fugaku and Mikoto, trying to convince them that they didn’t have to commit to any favors for her, and all of his thoughts stilled. She was talking with her hands, trying to explain that she was just glad to be of service to her teammate’s family, and by extension, the village. That no one should be in chronic pain if there was anything she could do about it. Her cheeks were flushed with the wine, and he was taken by the fullness of her lips. Wet with the plum wine, they glistened in the soft overhead light. Every so often, he could see a glint of her pink tongue as she laughed, or caught the corner of her lip.

Noticing that Itachi was staring at him with amusement, Shisui mentally shook himself out of his stupor.

“Ne, Sakura-sensei, I hadn’t realized you figured out the sharingan. Any chance I could schedule a doctor’s appointment with you?” He smiled cheekily at her, ignoring the way Sasuke and Naruto threw daggers at him.

“See, Sakura-chan,” Mikoto said, “you take such good care of our boys—no matter what you say, we’ll always be in you debt.”

“Mikoto-san—” Sakura looked down at her shirt—a standard issue jounin top—which now had a dark wine stain blooming at her stomach.

Naruto looked sheepishly at her, grabbing his napkin. “Sorry…at least it wasn’t your kimono this time?” Naruto said as he dabbed.

“Aw man,” Sakura complained, “this is one of my last good ones too.” While it was customary for shinobi to keep one or two sets of pristine uniforms for show—if they were on guard duty for a prestigious client, or to maintain appearances for foreign dignitaries—the reality was that most shinobi were running around in repeatedly stained, slightly tattered, hole riddled uniforms until they were unwearable.

Getting up to rinse her shirt in the sink, Mikoto stopped her. “Let me get you something to change into,” she said, rising from her seat. At the same time, Sasuke stood up, saying he’d get something of his, and missed the way Shisui had grabbed the back of his own shirt collar and started to undress. Itachi yanked the hem of Shisui’s shirt down and Fugaku stared at Shisui like he was stupid.

“No, no, sit back down Sasuke,” Mikoto said quickly, “look how pretty Sakura’s hair is today,” gesturing at her pink locks, “I’ll have to get her something of mine.” Mikoto placed a hand at Sakura’s upper back and ushered her along.

Sitting back down, Sasuke stared after his mom and teammate in silent confusion over the correlation of Sakura’s everyday pony tail and clothes.

After a few minutes, Mikoto and Sakura shuffled back into the main dining area. Mikoto walked slightly behind Sakura, staring intently at her sons’ and nephew’s faces. Catching the glint in her eye, Fugaku sighed.

Sakura changed into a loose black sweater with an Uchiha fan stitched on the breast. The sweater itself had a similar cut to the jounin top, and was slightly loose on Sakura’s frame. Seeing his teammate, Sasuke furrowed his brow. He had several shirts exactly like that. Sakura also probably had several shirts like that—it wasn’t particularly nice even—why did it have to be his mother’s, he wondered. What does it have to do with her hair—did ponytails have some significance he hadn’t known about? Deep in thought, he continued to scrutinize while Itachi happily munched on butter cookies. Glancing nonchalantly at Sakura he offered a “Hm,” and went back to cajoling Naruto into eating more.

Shisui was gone. The thought of Sakura wearing his clothes with the Uchiha fan would be forever branded in memory. He imagined quiet mornings with her as he made her coffee as she got ready in the mornings. He imagined how she’d look wearing one of his t-shirts—the oversized fit exposing the cream of her shoulder and him kissing the open space.

He watched her as she spoke. The slender curve of her neck, the peach fuzz on her cheeks, and the irresistible plumpness of her lips mesmerized him. Shisui felt the rush of chakra to his eyes, activating his sharingan, and quickly turned his head.

“Thank you for the meal,” Sakura said, rising from her seat, bowing to Mikoto and Itachi.

“Yeah, dinner was great thank you so much!” Naruto chimed in. “Ne, ne, Sakura-chan,” leaning towards her with a glint in his eyes, “why don’t you stay and sleepover! It’ll be like our genin days!” Naruto cheered.

Lightly grimacing, Sakura responded, “I have a shift at the hospital at six in the morning—maybe next time,” she apologized, although she didn’t look sorry at all.

“It must be exhausting having multiple full time jobs,” Itachi said sagely, still munching on butter cookies.

“Yes.” Fugaku deadpanned. “I wonder.”

Completely ignoring his father, Sasuke got up and heaved Naruto with him as well. Nodding to his mother, he jutted his chin to Sakura then jerked his head at the door.

“God, teme—use your words!” Naruto yelled, swatting the back of Sasuke’s head. Ducking before Naruto could hit him, Sasuke jabbed the side of Naruto’s stomach, grinning when he doubled over and wheezed. “W-we’re gonna walk S-Sakura-chan home,” he managed to get out, glaring at Sasuke from his hunched over position.

Seeing his chance, Shisui shot up from his seat and clapped a heavy hand onto Naruto’s back, forcing the blonde to stay hunched over. Cheerfully he said, “I’ll do it! My apartment’s on the way anyways and you’re staying here!” Squeezing Sasuke’s shoulder forcefully, Shisui grinned at his younger cousin trying not to flinch in his vice grip.

Raising a brow, Sakura looked at Shisui unimpressed, although the corner of her lip was curling. Itachi mirrored Sakura, except he was actually unimpressed. Fugaku massaged his nose bridge and his wife hid her smile behind her hand.

“Sasuke, Naruto, come help with the dishes,” Mikoto said.

Sakura gave once last bow to Sasuke’s parents and waved at her friends before heading out.

___

Sakura’s apartment was not on the way to Shisui’s. In fact, it was on the opposite side of the village.

But, there was no way he’d miss the opportunity to talk to her one-on-one without the intrusion of pesky teammates or baby cousins. They walked leisurely side by side, shoulders occasionally bumping, as he basked in her undivided attention. The walk to her apartment was made in quiet tones, careful not to break the stillness that surrounded them.

Crickets chirping in the background and the moon softly illuminating their way, Shisui, for the first time with Sakura, felt at ease. He wondered if maybe they were meant for this—quiet conversations under the moonlight, with her wearing the Uchiha crest.