#I have a lot of Anxiety over coming off anon

[gracieheartspedro]

Dagger In The Heart

pairing: ellie williams x afab! reader

post about palestine - please be aware and know who your content comes from. this post informs you about the tlou writers and creators, as well as how to help the Palestinian people.

word count: 6.1k words

warnings: MINORS DNI!!! 18+ ty!!! abusive relationship mentioned, reader's bf is a cheating asshole, calls her names, makes comments about weight, talks of cheating, some lowkey cheating from reader, sharing clothes with ellie, ellie is 18+ but her age not specified, talks of hardly eating food at dinner, reader is a bit confused with her sexuality and wants to explore (which is fine!!! and normal!!!), wlw relations, pussy eating, fingering, tribbing, tattoos? lots of tattoos, dirty talk, reader being a bit desperate, getting caught (but not really), mentions of a strap, men being drunk and stupid. that's it. I think.

description: when you get the chance to meet your asshole boyfriend’s family, you take a liking to his sister, ellie. when a conversation about her tattoos turns into talks of what you’re really into, you can’t help but want to explore it more.

author’s note: hi girls, gays, and theys! I am so happy to be bringing this request to you. it was an anon request from july and I just suck at getting my life together to actually write. but here we are. FYI, I don't condone this behavior or cheating. anyway I hope you enjoy. I will also be putting this on my ao3 soon, so if you see it there, don't worry, it's just me (;

“You gotta chill, babe. Your anxiety is giving me anxiety.”

He was never very good with comforting you, so you bite back your snappy comment and just fake a smile.  

You had been dating your boyfriend Matt for almost a year. You two met in your college biology class and really bonded over your love for folk music and Greek food. He had kind eyes, mousy brown hair and the brightest smile you had ever seen. 

At first, you thought this was the best relationship you ever could ask for, but Matt grew distant after four months together. You didn’t know why, but his temper had shown itself one too many times. He fought with you constantly. He was quite jealous. You could never be seen with another boy without accusations of cheating. But every time you two argued, he always came back with an apology and a bouquet of flowers. You could not help but believe you could fix him. 

It had been 10 months, you had to brave meeting his family. Unlike you, his family lived two towns over and he visited them quite often. He was close to his younger brother and mom, so he made a point to see them as much as he could. 

He brought up the idea of meeting them back around the holidays, but you were planning to board a flight and visit your family across the country. He understood but was pretty disappointed you could not try his mom’s infamous pumpkin pie.

You had no excuse when summer came. So here you are, standing with him at his childhood home’s front door as he scrambled to find his keys. 

You were sporting something more dressed up than your normal. Matt loved this one black dress on you, so you decided to wear that with some cute flats. You were sorely regretting the shoe decision, the pointed-toed shoes squeezed your big toe and the arch was not high enough to be comfortable. 

He unlocks the deadbolt and the red door jolts open. You are instantly met with the scent of BBQ and cornbread. His childhood is cozy and lived in. The entrance is lined with shoes, everything from high heels to sneakers that have run through countless puddles. It was a sigh of relief, they were a no-shoes in the house family. You kick off your uncomfortable shoes, holding on to Matt’s shoulder for balance. 

His mom is the first one to enter the hallway to meet you two at the door. She is quite beautiful, her hair darker than Matt’s. She was shorter, wearing a nice blouse and jeans. She welcomes you both with a bear hug and cheers of excitement. When she pulls you out of the embrace, she gets a better look at you. 

“You are more beautiful in person, pictures do not do your gorgeous smile justice,” She remarks, squeezing your hands. 

You shake your head, trying your best not to let out that you are beyond nervous about this entire encounter. “You are too kind, thank you so much for hosting us.”

“Come meet the crew!”

Matt eyes meet yours, noticing how tense you are. You had hoped for him to hold your hand and guide you through this experience, but instead he just nudges you with his shoulder. He brushes by, heading after his mom. 

The hallway opens into a kitchen and living room, which is littered with random strangers who, in some way, resemble your boyfriend. 

His brother, Collin, stands up first from the barstools, racing over to your boyfriend to dap him up. When he glances your way, you just smile and introduce yourself. He extends his hand to shake yours, which you gladly accept. 

His dad is next to stand up from a recliner in the living room. He makes your acquaintance quickly, telling you he’s so glad to finally meet you after months of hearing all about you. 

When he moves away from in front of you, she comes into focus. You had not even noticed her sitting on the couch across the room. 

She’s slender, her dark locks framing her chiseled jawline. She looks like Matt, but more like a person who belongs in a Renaissance painting. Her eyes are a more dimensional brown. She has freckles scattered around her pale complexion, which only added her beauty. 

You do not realize you are gawking until Matt nudges you. “This is my sister, Ellie.”

You blink again, bringing your focus back to the situation. She extends her hand, and that’s when you take notice to her tattoo-filled arms. Her tank top raises a bit and you catch a glance of her midriff, exposing more tattoos littering her abdomen. 

“Nice to meet ya. Heard plenty about you.”

You swallow, taking her hand and shaking it. “I hope good things.”

“No, I only tell her the worst things about you.”

Everyone giggles except you and Ellie. Luckily it is filling the room with enough noise to drown out your thoughts about your boyfriend’s beautiful sister. 

Ellie rolls her eyes before whispering, “Don’t worry, it’s only ever good things, sweet cheeks.”

-

Matt’s dad loves to talk and you can tell it annoys Ellie. You were seated outside on their patio set, drinking some homemade lemonade Matt’s mom was adamant you had. He was helping her with all the sides that were still yet to be made, so you took up Ellie’s offer to check out the backyard space. You did not expect Matt’s dad to come with you two and tell you all about the flower beds he curated. 

But you listened, smiling and nodding while sipping on your tart drink. 

He got occupied with grilling, so you and Ellie were left on the couch near a very used and abused firepit. 

You wait for her to say something. She was truly making you nervous, her eyes trailing you every so often. 

“So, you and Matt met in science class?”

You finally look back at her wandering eyes, “Yeah, he was my biology partner.”

“Gotcha,” She leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees. You do not know what comes over you, but you cannot physically pull your eyes away from her arms as they flex. “You good?”

“I like your tattoos,” You barely manage to say, “They are… hot.”

You want to jump into the unlit firepit for that one. 

No other adjective came to your horny mind? Really?

She giggles, enjoying watching you practically squirm under her gaze. “Thanks, dude. My ex girlfriend was a tattoo artist so I let her practice on me.”

You remember a moment about 5 months ago when Matt mentioned his sister being gay, but for some reason, you finally connect that duh it’s Ellie, you fucking idiot. 

You also remember some choice words he had about her. You remember cringing when he called her a slur and said she could not keep a girl to save her life. You held your tongue and refused to reply.

“That’s awesome,” You scoot closer to her, bridging more of the gap between you two on the couch, “Which one is your favorite?”

She smiles at your intrusion into her space and questions. You realize you two are almost sizing each other up, right in front of her family, your boyfriend’s family. They could easily peek outside of the kitchen windows and see you two eye fucking each other. She leans back, her eyes tracing all the tattoos on her arms. 

Then she laughs. A deep guttural laugh. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” She brings her front teeth down on her bottom lip before speaking up again, “It’s a tattoo I can’t show you.”

“Why not?”

She looks towards the window, checking on her brother and mom. Her expression changes when she turns back to you. 

“Because I’m not pulling my tits out in front of my family.”

Your pussy practically pulses when you hear her say it. What is wrong with you? You are dating her brother. What is wrong with you?!

“Your… boobs are tattooed?”

She nods slowly, bringing her one hand up to your bare exposed thigh, “Bet that shakes a sweet one like you to your core.”

The comment insinuates that you are an innocent little girl who knows nothing about the world. And sure Matt is your first real boyfriend. Sure he was the first person ever to eat you out because your high school crushes did not even know that was a thing. Sure you never have been sexually promiscuous. Sure you thought you were straight. 

Sure.

But something inside you was crawling its way out. This small interaction with your asshole boyfriend’s sister was enough to send you into a spiral. You never gave a girl a chance so how were you supposed to know you did not like it?

“What if your family wasn’t around?”

Ellie is gobsmacked by your comment, her jaw practically hitting the floor. You can tell she realized she was flying too close to the sun. She pulls her hand away from your leg. 

“You are my brother’s girlfriend. I am not going to be the one to corrupt you,” She states, scooting over a bit away from you. Your cheeks get flushed, instantly feeling embarrassed for asking such a question. But the more you sat in silence, the more you realized that you really did not care. The feelings Ellie made you feel within the last 10 minutes were more exciting than any feeling Matt had given you in 10 months. 

You clear your throat, “Luckily for you, Ellie, you would not be the one to corrupt me. That has already been done.”

She looks at you quizzically, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, I may look sweet and innocent,” You creep in close to her, “But I am really a freak.”

Now you are just lying. 

Before she can utter a word, Matt’s brother comes out to let you two know dinner was done. You hope and pray he didn’t take notice to how close you two were. Or how Ellie stared at your ass as you walked away. 

-

You sit between Matt and Ellie at the table. 

Every so often during the meal, you would place your hand on Matt’s leg. He would push you away, rolling his eyes when you glared at him. When the conversation came around to him, he would find a way to demean you and then continue blabbing about school or his internship. 

You answered questions from his mom and dad, but you were sorely uninterested in them. But then the conversation comes around as to whether you two would be staying the night tonight. At this point, Matt had already had four beers, and you knew he probably would not want you driving his new Mustang. 

“You can take Matt’s bed and he can sleep on the couch,” His mom suggests, indicating that you two would not be sleeping together. You understood that they were a bit more traditional, but you were not expecting to sleep in your boyfriend's childhood bed without him. 

“That’s a great idea, Ma. We can stay, right?”

You look at the plate of practically untouched food in front of you. You just nod, finally saying, “As long as you give me some comfy sweatpants to wear.”

“Mine are all back at my apartment, but I’m sure Ellie has something you could borrow. Plus, you probably wouldn’t fit my sweatpants.”

Matt constantly made comments about your figure and how he could not share clothes with you. He refused to share his clothes with you, stating that you would not be able to squeeze into them and you also “left your scent on everything”. 

God, he made you feel terrible about yourself. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you think about wearing Ellie’s clothes, though, and you completely drown out the separate conversation happening around the table. You feel a hand creep up your thigh, but it's not coming from the side you expect.

Her hand is so soft and delicate as it creeps up your leg. You cannot help but glance at her direction, catching her smiling over at you. 

“Don’t worry, I got something you can wear.”

-

Dinner finishes up and Matt expresses that he wants to go for a round of drinks with his high school friends and brother at the local tavern down the street. He never asks if you want to go, telling you “It would just be high school friends that you don’t know, anyway.”

He tells you that his Mom and Ellie would get you all set up. He gives you a pat on the back, and heads to the door, right behind his brother. You watch him leave and almost breathe a sigh of relief. 

When you turn back, you see his Mom already going upstairs. 

“I’m gonna get your bed all set up and then I’m probably going to retire to my bed, too.” She states, slowly making her way up the wooden staircase. 

You wanted to scream because this only meant one thing. You were alone with Ellie. 

You follow her up the stairs and look around the hallway. She heads to the right and begins pointing at the only room with the light on. You didn’t even know that Ellie was upstairs.

“Have Ellie get you something to wear, I’ll make up your bed!”

The door swings open and Ellie stands there, having changed into her own bedtime clothes. And for fucks sake, she’s not making this easy for you. 

She is sporting a tight white tank, no bra, and shorts that ride up to the very tops of her thighs. Her legs are tattooed as well, but not as much as her arms. There isn’t a touch of her freckled skin that isn’t marked with art. You can almost see through her shirt, making your mouth go dry. 

“Let’s see what you fit into!”

She lets you into her space. Her room is decorated with posters of space and heavy metal bands. From the looks of one corner of her room, she’s an artist. She has different art styles, anywhere from charcoal to watercolors, littering a desk and her walls. It’s messy, but it’s not dirty. It smells like incense and clean laundry. 

She walks over to her dresser, opens up the top drawer. Everything is neatly folded, which kind of surprises you. 

“I have some sweatpants, shorts, boxers-“

“Sweatpants are fine,” You retort, not wanting her to list off anything else, “Do you have any t-shirts I could wear?”

“Well of course I do, sweet cheeks. What do you want, loose or tight?”

You stare at her dumbfounded. You know what she’s doing. And you hate yourself for liking it so much. 

She pulls out a pair of navy blue sweatpants, still waiting for your reply. 

“Loose.”

She starts to dig through another drawer when Matt’s mom pops her head in. 

“It’s all set up for you, sweetheart. If you need anything, you let one of us know. I’m going to downstairs if you need me.”

You smile, thankfully. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Williams.”

“If she needs anything, I’m sure I could help her find her way,” Ellie says, absentmindedly. She pulls out a white t-shirt from her drawer and tosses it at you. 

“Goodnight, girls!”

And then you two are alone. Ellie slowly saunters to her door and shuts it. 

“You can get dressed here. Just make sure what I gave you fits.”

You silently turned your back to her, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “Can you unzip me?”

You are not even thinking straight. You are so caught up with being alone with the girl you have had weird sexual tension with. She walks over to you confidently, before grabbing the top of your black dress, which lands right at the middle of your back. She pulls down the zipper, ensuring it reaches the very end of its track. 

The hairs on your back stand up in her wake. You breathe deeply, before shimmying the dress off your shoulders. You were wearing a bra, so you were just going to keep it on. You step out of the dress, leaving you in just underwear and the push-up bra Matt gifted you not too long ago. 

You don’t turn to her, but she just comes around to your front, nonchalantly. 

“Jesus Christ,” Ellie stammers, before plopping on her bed. You shakingly step into the sweatpants she gifted you to wear, unsure how to respond. You rack your brain trying to gain the confidence you had before dinner, but your mouth is dry and your brain is dazed from seeing Ellie in her pajamas. 

You finally manage to glance up at her hungry eyes, smiling softly. 

“I never knew I would be jealous of my brother.”

You swallow, “Jealous?”

“Yeah, he gets to have someone like you every night and I can’t even find someone worth hanging out with around here. Never thought a nerd like him would win over a woman like you.”

You are standing in the sweatpants and your bra, not able to digest her words completely. A woman like you?

“Your brother is sweet. And we don’t have sex every night.”

“Just sweet?” She steps a bit closer to you, “And I said nothing about sex, darling, I said he gets to have you.”

She is looking at you like you are her prey. You almost fell to your knees and begged her to put you out of your misery, but you resisted. Instead, she just stands up, trying to catch your nervous glances. 

“H-he, uh, does what he can, when we d-do, yanno.”

Her fingers trace up your arm, her eyes trailing as she does it. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting for her response. She clicks her tongue a couple of times, shaking her head. 

“I am sure he tries,” She sputters, standing back from you, “Do you even really like him?”

You furrow your eyebrows, suddenly snapping out of the situation you are currently in. You reflect for a moment.

Matt was an asshole but you sometimes enjoyed his company. He made you laugh on occasion. But deep down, you knew that he wasn’t made for you. He lacked emotional intelligence and made sure to put you down any chance he got. You had inklings he was talking to other girls and his friends were probably the most intolerable people on your college campus. And then there was that one time when the inklings were just. 

The realization that you maybe didn’t like him made you sick. You wasted so much time and now you have met his family.

“When he’s not mean to me. When he isn’t cheating on me.” You admit quietly, almost too humiliated to say it. 

She crooks her neck, “He cheated on you?”

You hate talking about it, it made you feel as though you were never good enough. He made it out that it was your fault because you would not have sex with him when you had the flu. “It was just some hand stuff, baby,” he said to you. 

“Just once. I forgave him because he told me he loved me.”

“People who love you don’t hurt you like that,” Ellie says without a beat. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Is he mean to you all the time?”

You think back to the last nice thing he said to you. Your ass looks fat in that dress. And even that could be seen as a bad thing. You shake your head, trying to find a good way to paint her brother. From the looks of it, she doesn’t really like him all that much anyway. 

“Most of the time.”

“So, what I’m hearing is my brother is an asshole that doesn’t know how to treat a woman both in life and in the bedroom. Is that what you’re saying?”

You stand there pondering her question, coming up with nothing. She was right, but were you ready to admit that?

So you shrug.

Ellie stands with her arms crossed now, chewing on the inside of her lip. She’s contemplating something, her eyes falling to the floor for a moment. 

“Listen, I am not just saying this because it has taken everything in my power to resist sinking my teeth into you,” The first half of the sentence put your heart in your throat. Nonetheless, she carries on, “But I have an inkling that you don’t like my brother at all. I think you like girls and you’ve never had the chance to explore that. You want to say you are a freak, but you really don’t know what that even means.”

“Ellie, I d-”

“You need to break up with my brother,” She states plainly, “And then, after all is said and done, I can show what it looks like to be taken care of.”

You agree, sadly. You do need to break up with Matt. And on the basis that you believe that he’s probably at the bar hanging out with old friends, probably with other girls, probably flirting with those other girls. You decide you are not going to wait anymore. He cheated on you once, what’s stopping him now? Ellie was right about everything, and while that revelation changes your entire perspective on life, you settle on jumping head first. 

“Show me now.”

You watch all the blood drain from her face. She fumbles with her inked hands, waiting for you to say you didn’t mean it. That moment never comes. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Swallowing hard, you just nod. You do not even realize what you are getting yourself into, but the undeniable chemistry cannot be ignored anymore. You don’t even want to waste another thought on Matt. You know if you think too hard about it, you’ll talk yourself back into staying with him.

Ellie’s face gets closer to yours and your lips connect seamlessly. She wastes no time, bringing her hands down to your waist to pull you in. You wrap your arms around her neck while fireworks erupt in your chest.

Her lips taste like mint and a dab pen your college roommate made you hit a couple of months ago. She was borderline intoxicating. 

She backs you up towards her bed, letting your knees hit the edge of the mattress. You plop down, disconnecting from her lips. 

Through hooded lids, she asks you, “Do you want to see my favorite tattoo, then?”

Your breathing hitches as she does not even wait for a response, she just pulls her tank top over her head.

Each piece is connected somehow. Her stomach piece is what appeared to be a dragon flying up towards her under-boob area. It was extremely detailed and took up a large half of her upper stomach. Around her collarbones were very intricate lines that almost rain over her body like veins. They spread down her chest onto her boobs, where around her nipples were two matching daggers appearing to go through her areola. 

You smirk at the idea that these are her favorite tattoos. The cheeky ones around her tits.

“Holy shit, Ellie.”

You reach out and touch her tits, ever so delicately. You use your finger to outline the daggers, smiling to yourself. 

Being this close sends a pulsating feeling down to your pussy. You have never felt a lightning strike quite like it before. 

She’s letting you feel her up, but when you change your tune and start pinching at her nipples, she throws her head back with a groan.

“Hmm, you should try putting one in your mouth,” She remarks, hoping to God you would be eager enough to do so. She was very in tune with you because you leaned forward taking her right nipple into your mouth. She’s guiding you around every turn, whispering how good you are doing already. 

You release her with a pop and sit back. You reach around to release your own, but she stops you. 

“Lemme do it,” She says mounting your lap. You place your hand on her hips while she runs her fingertips across your back. She unhooks your black bra, letting your tits spill out. 

You feel the tops of your hands stand up as soon as her hands begin to knead your tits. You glance down at her movements, watching your sensitive nipples perk up due to the attention she’s giving them. 

“Mmm, you like that, sweetness?”

You just groan, your lips needing to do more than just talk. You pull Ellie’s ajar mouth down to yours, diving your tongue between her teeth. You never had such a hunger for anyone else. No guy ever made you feel this way. 

She nudges your shoulders, having you fall onto your back. Her lips move away from yours and start to trail down your neck and chest. When her wet mouth touches your tits, you cannot control the sounds that leave your throat. She bites down on your supple skin, which makes you groan more. 

“You gotta quiet down a bit. Don’t need anyone hearing us.”

You try to manage your noises, but as soon as she starts to kiss down to the hem of the sweatpants she loaned you, you know you’ll never be quiet like she needs you to be. She tugs at the waistband, taking your underwear with it. 

You are now butt naked on her bed. And god, the air is hitting the wetness between your legs is titillating. 

“Listen, sweets,” She whispers, palming your thighs with her tattooed hands, “I’m going to make you cum on my tongue first. Then I am going to fuck this pussy so good, you won’t know any other cock but the fake one in my side table. You hear me?”

Your stomach is in knots, but you know that this is what you really want. “Okay, Ellie. Please do whatever you think I will like.”

“You’re gonna like it all, baby girl. And if it gets a bit dodgy, you just let me know and we can stop.”

You shake your head positively as she smiles between your legs. She starts by kissing up your thighs, keeping you completely in a trance. When her mouth finds your slit, she licks a long stripe. She takes her time, working her tongue in between your pussy lips. The wet sound that happens when she shakes her head is pornographic. When she finds your clit, she encases it and starts to suck lightly. You scream out in pleasure, never feeling this sensitive before. It usually took a whole lot of Matt lazily fingering you and fucking you to illicit such a response. Ellie is building up an orgasm within you in record time. 

She uses her fingers to open up your pussy a little bit more. You instinctively want to close your legs, but her left arm has your legs locked on her bed. Her middle and index fingers curl inside you with every motion forward. 

Her eyes are closed and you are laser-focused on her expressions. She’s putting her all into making you feel good and it’s relieving to watch someone put so much care into it. 

You notice the small little freckles that scatter across her nose get lighter as they reach her cheekbones. She’s so fucking pretty. 

“Jesus, you’re doin’ so good sweetheart. You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Ellie, please don’t stop,” Your voice is strained, begging her to continue fucking you. She chuckles and begins to pick up speed. Your mind is cluttered, unsure how you can feel this good. 

When the peripherals of your vision begin to get white, you know it’s over. She latches her lips back onto your clit, humming to drag the orgasm out of you. When it happens, your deep guttural moans get muffled by her palm.

You think your heart is going to stop beating. 

Once you begin to feel your muscles relax, Ellie is crawling on top of you, hovering over your chest, her lips kissing your collarbones.

“You did such a great job, baby girl,” She dotes, her short hair falling across her forehead, “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

Your heart swells up a thousand sizes. You never got called that before, let alone felt sexy. But Ellie had this aura to her. She made you feel sexy, desirable, wanted. 

Your hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “Please show me more.”

She nods, before she leans back on her knees. She balances on one leg before shoving her pajama shorts down. The ink travels to every part of her body and you wonder if the ones around her hips hurt. The snakes that travel up her thighs, have their heads resting right on her hip bones. 

You sit up and observe her movements, she’s fumbling with something in her drawer. She seemingly cannot find what she’s looking for and slams it shut. 

“How about this,” She says with a huff, “I want you to see what it feels like to grind that pretty little pussy on mine anyway. The strap will have to wait.”

You feel the blood drain from your face, “The strap?”

She giggles at your not-so-faux innocence. “We will try that next time.”

You aren’t ready for her to grab onto your legs and move you like a rag doll around her bed. She rests her body horizontally from yours, her lower half lining up with yours. You were not sure how this worked, but you had heard of scissoring before. The technicality was lost on you. 

You sit up waiting for instruction, but Ellie is so hypnotized by your wet slit, she doesn’t even look at you. You watch her reach out and touch your dripping center and it sends an electric shock down your limbs. You throw your head back, hissing at the action. 

“God, that cunt is so pretty.”

You finally look back at her, wanting nothing more but to fuck her like she fucked you. So in return for her toying with you, you hastily reach out and touch her pussy. You are confused by what to do, but by her reaction, you know you did something right. 

“Tell me what we are doing,” You beg, closing your legs in closer to hers. She nods, watching your fingers pull apart her pussy lips. 

“Pull your cunt against mine and ride me like you’d ride Matt’s dick.”

You halt your movements, “Ride him?”

“You’ve never ridden him before?”

Your response was your silence. You had never explored much with him, simply because he was quick to get his nut before traversing to other territories. 

She helps you sit up, hover your cunt over hers. You can not lie, the sight of her sticky wet pussy was hot. She guides you down so your mound is on hers. She bites her lip as you practically drool watching your purely untouched body against her painted figure. 

“Now move your hips back,” Her hands are gripping onto your hips, showing you the way, “And forth.”

The friction is immediately overstimulating, but it feels like an itch you’ve never scratched. So fucking delicious. 

“Shit…” You groan at the response your body is giving you.

“Practice makes perfect, baby. Keep moving those hips. 

You have never been on top, but it’s almost freeing to be in control of the movements. You weren’t sure what you should grip onto as you rubbed your pussy against hers, so you grip onto your own shoulders. Your hips gyrate, the slickness between your legs starts trailing down to Ellie’s navy blue sheets. 

“God, this pussy is so fucking perfect,” Ellie says through gritted teeth. She holds down your hips, somehow trying to get you closer to her.

“It’s yours.” You whine, letting the lust take over your speech. You had no clue what that meant for this situation, you just knew that Ellie knew how to fuck you and it was bliss. You hands leave your shoulders and eventually find Ellie’s tits.

“This pussy is mine? The first cunt you fuck is the cunt you fuck forever?”

You want to laugh, but the bubble in your stomach is about to burst already with how fucked out of your mind you are. “If the cunt is yours, then yes. I want this forever.”

Ellie sucks on her two fingers before she reaches down, finding the very top of your cunt, and starts to press down on that sensitive little bud. The saliva only mixes with the messiness of your liquids. You squeeze her nipples in response. 

“Never going back to my stupid fuckin’ brother, hm? This pussy belongs to me.”

“Yes, Ellie, fuck!” 

She smiles at your quickening pace. She knows you’re reaching your breaking point, and she knows that she’s close herself. 

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fuckin’ cunt.”

You jolt forward, your hips stilling over hers. You don’t know if you’ve felt a sensation quite like it. You had tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body felt like a volcano erupting. The curses leaving Ellie’s lips as she came from your orgasm only added to the high you felt. You knew words were leaving your mouth, but they were just jumbled together strings of sentences. 

“Jesus Christ…”

“It feels so good…”

“I want this pussy forever…”

You fall over next to Ellie, your legs still intertwined with hers. She was trying to catch her breath, her body still jittery from her high. 

“That was per-”

“Babe!!”

Your stomach drops to your ass when you hear Matt’s voice.

You jump up from Ellie’s bed, finding the closest clothes you can grab at. Ellie does the same, but takes her time throwing a tank top over her bed head. His footsteps are practically running up the steps. 

You are still wobbly on your legs, practically falling over trying to put on the pants she loaned you. You just keep saying “fuck” over and over again, knowing that you two will probably be caught. You just finished putting on a shirt when he barges into the room. 

He’s drunk. 

“What are you still doing in here?” He asks you in an accusatory slurred voice. Collin is close behind him, trying to shush him.

“Chill, dude. I was just showin’ her some of my art.” Ellie defends, plopping down on her bed. She’s trying to mask the fact that her bed is wet with your cum. 

While he blabs about how Ellie sucks at art, which he is very wrong about, you notice a red blotch on his shirt collar. You zero in on it because you fucking knew. 

“Matt, what’s on your neck?” You interrupt.

He stops his rant to look down at you. His eyes are bloodshot. He’s so gone that his mind can’t make up an excuse. 

“It’s from Sophie,” He blurts out, his lips getting ahead of his brain. Ellie pauses and the entire room goes dead silent. You had no idea what to say back to that. You had no clue who Sophie was. You honestly did not care, your relationship was already done in your head. You were just kind of shell-shocked that it happened exactly how your mind doctored it.  

You glance over at Ellie who is already looking at you. Collin clears his throat. 

“I think this a conversation for the morning,” Collin says, grabbing Matt’s arm to tug him out of the room. 

You nod, “Yeah, Collin, great idea. Why don’t you take Matt to bed? Tuck him in and give him a sweet kiss like Sophie did.”

Matt’s face turns bright red, the same thing it always did when he got mad at you. Before he could lash out at you, Collin drags him out of the room and into the hall. Before shutting the door behind him, he says, “I’m sorry.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “It’s fine. It’s not the first time. But it will be the last.”

When the door clicks shut, you hear Matt whisper yelling at Collin about how big of a bitch you are. How you didn’t deserve him. Yadda-yadda-yadda. 

Ellie just gawks at you. The tone of the room changed so drastically so quickly that you felt almost disconnected from reality. 

“You okay?” She asks innocently, her hand holding onto your shoulder. 

Your legs are still weak. “Yeah, I think I’ll need more practice though.”

She is confused, you can tell by the look on her face. “Huh?”

“I’ll need more practice riding you. And, hey, you didn’t get to use that fake dick on me, remember?”

-

taglist (for those who said they wanted this haha)

@cavillscurls @satellitespinner @mourningdovee @hockeyhughes @stonerzdaze420692 @00ops1e @sunflowerwinds @holilogram @whoucallingalesbian @aurelialuna

[curax]

I haven’t drawn anything in nearly two years, but @nemesis-is-my-middle-name drew these lovely pictures in relation to an au we were talking about, and oh. my. god. I flipped, y’all, just completely lost every ounce of composure I’ve ever had. Their incredibly fucked up and awesome Ingo hit me straight in the cute aggression and lit a fire within me to draw so intense it was a little alarming. For anyone wondering: Ingo and Emmet are (leucistic) jackrabbits, Irida is an arctic fox, the protagonist (in this case Akari) is a black cat, and their counterpart (in this case Rei) is a calico Japanese bobtail (like a maneki-neko lol).

[l4long-winded]

carmy’s gf being a very good dirty talker and carm getting flustered and turned on ❤️‍🔥

okay, first off, i am terribly sorry this took so long for me to answer. i was staring at it for ages just trying to think of a scenario where i could implement it. i'm a perfectionist. i procrastinate and i whine about procrastinating and then i panic if i don't have the right setting. and then i remembered... this is for fan consumption, who gives a fuck?

this concept is special to me because, to me, carmen doesn't have a whole lot of experience. it's why i LOVE the sub!carmen agenda. he gets tongue-tied pretty easily when it comes to voicing his emotions and then considering his stutter growing up, it makes sense to me that he would become bashful in the bedroom setting. especially with someone who knows what they're doing.

walk with me, anon. we have much to discuss... (sorry in advance for the title; i got carried away)

o.s. holland cream filled

summary: carmen is trying to keep it together. your talented tongue does not have the same goal (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

warnings: the title, described anxiety, dirty talk (duh), inexperienced!carmy, pussydrunk!carmy, established relationship, no use of pronouns for reader, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, mentioned handjobs, gold chain mention, praise kink, carmy whimpers, subby!carmy, sort of switch!carmy at the end, implied edging, longwinded descriptions, carmy begs a little, kissing, cursing, carmen's pov, use of "babe" and "baby" (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,018

( this work has been cross-posted to ao3 )

Every sinewy muscle twitches across his back whenever you get to this part, rippling underneath his skin as he pushes forward. He could easily lift his head up and away from where he’s currently got it nestled against your neck, but perhaps this is the masochistic side of him, the same one keeping him in the anxiety hellhole that is the kitchen. His sweaty curls graze your neck, near your jawline, his teeth and lips dragging over your throat. Every sound you make rumbles on him, vocal chords he tries to map out within. He likes to think he’s tasting your moans when he drags the flat of his tongue over your sensitive flesh. Your mouth is so fucking close to his ear right now, and it’s his own damn fault, the consequences of having you like this not unfamiliar. But this is the torture he anticipated and still dove headfirst into.

“You’re stretching me perfectly, Carmy.”

You always say shit like that. It throws off his rhythm, much like it always does, his equilibrium, clumsily attempting to fall back into it after collapsing all of his weight into you for a brief moment. It’s like you’re trying to make him falter on purpose with how you ramble. He doesn’t miss the hiss he ignites from you after accidentally sinking his cock all the way to the hilt from the misfire. His palms create divots in the mattress as he raises himself off you, his gold chain dangling near his chin. He hopes it tempts you enough to bite at it like you did a few nights ago. It would stop you from uttering anything else that’s going to shade his ears rosy and it’d snugly pull him back down chest to chest with you.

“That’s alright, look at me, watch my face,” you reassure him, taunting him without meaning to, directing his focus where he knows is going to both exacerbate and enhance this experience. As his hips continue to hump against you, somehow yanking the blankets and the mattress into handfuls resuming his pace from before, your lips part in ecstasy, desire swimming in your dilated pupils as you stare up at him. “ Good, fucking good, y-your c-cock is so thick,” you blurt, and Carmen’s breathing picks up. The oxygen is depleting quickly from his lungs, speed beginning to build and build.

“There, there, god, fuck me, Carmy, fuck,” you moan, and he maintains where he is. He’s so close, but he wants to ensure you’re feeling good right now, too.

Carmen’s intense blue eyes are latched on yours, his mind racing when you tell him to fuck you. He wants to respond, reply how he is fucking you, but he can’t find his voice. All he can do is grunt and nod his head obediently when you’re like this. As badly as he wants to match your dirty talk, he’s afraid of stuttering, of the vulnerability, of popping his load because every filthy sentence, every pant of his name, threatens to end it all too soon. If he even tries, says anything about your pussy, or your mouth, or your tits, how much he adores your pleasured sounds, that thing you do with your tongue, how you tighten around him and it’s impossible to not to drill his cock harder—

“You wanna cum?” You ask.

Yes, yes, yes, I wanna cum so fucking bad, please, please beg me for it, he thinks, but it doesn’t actually leave from between his lips. He swallows his own spit, instead, nodding his head violently as he breathes short and rapid exhales.

He’s confused when you don’t immediately respond to this thought. Of course, you’re not a mind reader. You’re observant, much like he is. He relies on this skill of yours sometimes because he’s never been good at talking. He seeks comfort in you. While your way with linguistics in this setting sends him reeling, he also needs it, he craves it. He only hates it because he can never last long with it implemented.

Yet, it is nice when you’re whispering your praises into his ear, sliding your spit slick hand up and down his cock, thighs spread over his open legs. You’ve helped him plenty of times during those heavy rushes or while you’re making out on his couch and he’s too tired to give you what you deserve. He likes it close and you know that. That ability of yours is tremendous for instantaneous relief.

You should know to deliver what he needs right at this moment. He’s hanging on by a thread, a thread, where is that stunning talent of yours when he needs it?

“Wanna cum? Wanna f-fill me up ‘til I’m leaking?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck you, what are you doing to him? He’s straining right now, forgetting to breathe as he glances at your features in disbelief, his arms shaking whenever you cup his face into your hands, thumbs occupying the dimples of his cheeks. His hips grind into you in an offbeat fashion, his voice close to whimpering at this point from how he’s holding himself off. Carmen weakly nods again this time, willing his orgasm away by closing his eyes. He can’t lose himself too much in the feeling. In the tantalizing image of his cum spilling out of you when he inevitably pulls out.

“Look at me,” you say, and Carmen’s eyes shut tighter before he pries them open. He really can’t look, but he also can’t stop himself from listening. You’ve got him wrapped up in a trance. He’s doing his best right now to continue, to hear you, to not give into the edge he wants to hurdle over. “You w-wanna cum for me, Carmy?”

It’s the third time now that you’ve asked. Normally, you’re forgiving. You see how frantic he is and you croak about how much you want him to shatter for you, how he deserves it, how he’s earned it. He doesn’t feel like he’s earned it right now, somehow keeping himself at bay, no matter how desperately he needs to release into your cunt. The more he looks at your expectant features, he realizes what it is that you’re waiting for.

He can’t do that. He doesn’t have the sheer willpower for it that you do. He shakes his head slightly, crimson painting his face and neck, a bit of embarrassment coating his perspired skin, recrimination of the damned knitting his eyebrows together. He doesn’t trust himself. The moment the syllables leave his mouth, he’s bound to be floundering around like an idiot, and the only thing in his head right now is how badly he needs to cum. He can’t ruin this moment, and he has a strong feeling that he will.

But those hands of yours stop him from denying it. Your pressure heightens just a touch, just enough to gain his attention back on your face. You level him with an earnest gaze, lashes batting, nose nuzzling up against his in unspoken affection. There’s no doubt in his head that you could continue to talk and help him out here, but you’re waiting on him patiently. He’s got you both of the brink of madness, and you’re withholding on purpose, softly kissing him while his hips fuck into you in a contrasting slick and clapping noise. He knows what you want. He sighs in frustration, resigning himself, because although he could give into the fire, it wouldn’t burn as good without your permission. He lives for how it tempers inside of him.

“Y-yes,” he manages. You’re too cute, the way your face lights up. You swaddle your plush bottom lip between your teeth, eyes flickering with hope and encouragement for him to continue on. Carmen has to inhale first, a gauche tickling traveling up his throat like a spider climbing up a tree, crawling along the lining of his esophagus.

“Yes,” he repeats, “I-... I w-wanna cum.”

Saying it out loud further solidifies it, eroding his self control bit by bit. It’s salient in how the vein in his neck protrudes, and he’s there, he’s about to lose it. He’s going to, feeling his pressure wean the deeper he digs. You’re taking a lot of time looking him over. He wonders if you’re getting off on how needy he is right now, extending this out, when he was good, did exactly what he knows you wanted without having to ask. He’s about to babble and stutter, he’s got it at the tip of his tongue. Your walls tighten suddenly and this time he does fucking whimper.

“... and?”

And? And what? Where are those gratifying admirations of yours for him? He’s done what you want, he’s certain of it, and his balls are heavy right now, thudding into the meat of your ass.

“Baby, please,” he gushes, but you don’t relent. Your walls tighten around him again. His cock twitches in apprehension, almost there, almost letting it go.

It hits him, then. He remembers what you said a while ago. He’s far too gone to think about what this is going to make him look like, his eyes widening with his epiphany. He starts to move faster again, a new flame lit under him.

“And f-fill you up,” he rasps, “f-fill you up, I… I need to f-fill y-you up with my c-cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck, uh, uh, uh.”

Carmen’s fears were correct. He’s a stuttering, whimpering mess, becoming more vocal as he recites your words and then some. He navigates his way back to earth when you kiss him, shutting him up from cursing. He smothers a few more fucks against your mouth, expecting you to let him have it. Only, you don’t. Your half-lidded gaze greets him when you depart, your voice holding tremors on it. You’re close yourself. He has no idea how you can do this to the two of you. Aren’t you as strung out right now as he is?

“Until?”

Carmen almost swallows his tongue with how quickly he inhales, that one word a knife into his abdomen. The muscles there contract and flex, cock throbbing, his fingers close to piercing the mattress. He holds out a little longer, his next exhale opening his mouth, tongue lolling out.

“‘Til… ‘til y’leaking.”

Triumph cascades over him seeing your pleasured grin. He’s unable to hold the dam back any longer when you nod your head. His body molds against yours, a cry leaving his lips whenever he buries himself. He pants against your neck, his arms engulfing you into them. He greedily plucks your body off the mattress, surrounded by him in every aspect. While in his embrace, the stream of his seed goes on and on, expansive pulses before each spurt. You’ve drenched him, arched into a pretty curve, thanked him while you found your own solace, and he thinks he might disappear into thin air from how light he feels.

He doesn’t. He remains sprawled on top of you, the weight of him crushing you from how he refuses to let you go. If you complained, he would roll off, but you don’t. You peck gentle kisses over his shoulder, featherlike.

“Did so good,” you mutter. “You’re perfect. All mine. Please me like no one could. So, so good for me. Such a good b—”

Carmen’s hand covers your mouth, shielding himself from further onslaught. He removes his head from your neck, still out of breath as he looks down at you. The knife through the hand of his tattoo sits sideways, your bright eyes blinking at him. He sees a mix of amusement, desire, mischief, and confusion all rolled up there.

Carmen leans down, kissing his own tattoo. The action might seem insignificant to anyone else, but when he feels your lips purse into his palm as if kissing him back, he knows it’s not insignificant at all.

“Sorry, babe,” he murmurs. He starts to move again. The sinful sound that vibrates against his palm is a muted symphony to him, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I wanna last longer this time.”

[bratzforchris]

hi! can I have fluffy smut w/ johnnie please?! like similar to the the more feminine reader headcanons where they’re wearing a new pink set and tease him while he’s streaming or something!? thank you! love all ur content btw! 🖤🤍

Tease

Summary: Dropping lunch off at Johnnie's desk results in much more than just a quick hug and a kiss

Pairing: CEO!Johnnie x feminine reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), semi public sex (?), face fucking, hair pulling, quickie

Word Count: 923

A/N: I'm sorry this request took so long to get out, anon, but I hope it's worth the wait! Also, I know I strayed from the prompt a tad, but I saw this photo of Johnnie and couldn't resist :p Enjoy!!

It was a well known fact that your boyfriend, Johnnie, was one of the biggest entertainment CEOs in Los Angeles. Having originally started out as a YouTuber himself, he had ended up coming up with the idea of creating a talent agency specifically for YouTubers, which had led to an enormous company empire that quickly had him wrapped up in all kinds of company calls, business meetings, and the like. Managing famous influencers such as Tarayummy, Larray, and the Sturniolo Triplets was never easy work by any means, but you and Johnnie both always put in the effort to make sure that you two got time together for your relationship. 

Like now for example. You were riding in the private, glass elevator of the corporation’s building to the top floor, in which Johnnie’s private office was. Despite keeping your relationship relatively private and quiet, you were known throughout the company as Johnnie’s girlfriend and the secretary on the ground floor had seamlessly shooed you into the CEO’s private elevator. You stepped out onto Johnnie’s floor, clutching the takeout bag in your hand tighter. Your boyfriend had a bad habit of forgetting to pack lunch or eat when he was wrapped up at work, so you had decided to bring him lunch from his favorite cafe as both a way to see him and get a quick ‘I love you’ and as a way to make sure he was staying healthy. 

You stepped into his private hallway, adjusting your half-shoulder shirt. Your lacy, pink bra peeked out from underneath the fabric, adding a touch of brightness to the modern, gray and white hallway. You walked towards the grand door that had a silver plaque reading ‘Guilbert’ on it. You knocked quickly, calling out. “It’s me, hun.”

Within a few seconds, Johnnie had opened the door, a tired smile on his face. “I wasn’t expecting you today, my love.”

“I thought I’d bring you lunch,” You smiled, stepping into his office and closing the door behind you. “I know how you can get when you’re busy.” You said gently, kissing his cheek and setting the takeout bag on his desk. 

Johnnie looked you up and down as he sat back down in his chair, running his hands through his hair. “Thank you, baby, but I think this,” he paused to gesture at your flowy, white shirt, pink bra, and pink miniskirt. “Is a much better gift.” 

You blushed, sitting down on his lap. “Whatcha working on?”

Your boyfriend sighed, clearing some papers off his desk and refreshing his computer. “A lot. Everyone seems to be wanting to change their business model right now.” he sighed. 

You pouted, not liking how Johnnie’s face was creased with stress, or how rigid his muscles were with anxiety. “I’m sorry, baby.” You hummed softly, not-so-secretly adjusting yourself on his lap. 

Johnnie let out an involuntary moan as he looked at you, blue eyes growing wide with arousal at the way you were practically teasing him with that bra strap and your girly little outfit. He held your hips as his boner grew, whimpering softly. 

“I have a meeting in fifteen.” he groaned, rather frustrated that he didn’t have all the time in the world to hike that little skirt up and bend you over his desk. 

“That’s enough time for me.” You smiled sweetly, looking up at him with doe eyes as you slid off his lap. 

You began to undo Johnnie’s belt and trousers, making quick work of getting his pants off. By the time you were done, his dick had sprung free and was already throbbing with arousal, the tip glistening with pre cum. You began to fist him softly with one hand, upping the teasing before you began to slide your tongue across his tip. Johnnie moaned, thrusting his hips forward and tangling his hands in your hair, eager for your pretty little mouth to relieve his stress. 

As you took all of him into your mouth, Johnnie moaned when his tip hit the back of your throat. He began to pull your hair as you made him feel good, your head bobbing as you sucked and licked his cock. Johnnie thought you looked absolutely adorable with your angelic looks and big eyes looking at him as you worked him. The familiar feeling of orgasm built in his stomach and he moaned, thrusting himself towards your face again and again. 

It wasn’t long before he came, throwing his head back with a loud grunt as thick, white ropes of cum shot into your mouth and down your throat. You pulled off Johnnie’s cock with a pop, smiling as you swallowed and wiped your mouth. “Feeling less stressed now?” You asked with a giggle. 

Johnnie leaned forward to kiss your forehead, simultaneously fixing his pants and hair, seeing as how the clock said he had three minutes until his meeting. “A lot less stressed,” he smiled softly. “You’re the best, darling.”

You blushed under the praise, straightening your own clothes. “I really love you, you know that? And I’m sorry for teasing you with my outfit.” You giggled. 

“I’m sure you are,” Johnnie rolled his eyes playfully, pinching your ass. “I love you, baby. Thank you for the food.”

You bid Johnnie a goodbye as he took the phone call for his meeting. As you stepped out into the hallway once again, you began to plot ways to make Johnnie feel even less stressed once he got home. In fact, you were never truly done teasing him. 

[rodolfoparras]

we talk a lot about the characters being "loser boyfailures" and having no game and being rizless but think about the reader being that. guy in his thirties, no relationship ever, negative riz, absolutely no game, my man cannot speak to people without making 13 grammatical mistakes just an absolute pathetic wet dog vibes....

and the 141 boys could not want him more. they're absolutely head over heels for their loser boyfriend. i imagine Simon sees him bump into a chair and apologise to it and he's jumping his bones right then and there. pretty boy Kyle Gaz Garrick never goes anywhere without bringing his wet dog of a man with him. people are wondering how that happened and if he's blackmailing him, he gets very offended and sassy on his boyfriends behalf and when you're back home he rants to him about stupid people while milking his loser dick. Soap is just.... he's just himself the bigger the loser the more he wants the man. his boyfriend fucks up an interraction or fails at something and looks so wet and pathetic that he just has to put his dick in his mouth idk what to say Soap loves his loser boyfriends cock and when he tries and riz him up and falls flat on his face (literally and metaphorically) Soap just has to have him cream his hole im sorry but the man isn't letting his boyfriend go anywhere without having his mans loads in him. Price just loves him for the sincerity and how endearing his loser boyfriend is (just like an old man). the boyfriend will bring him coffee with a treat he tried making for Price and fuck up both the coffee and the treat but that old man will still praise you and give you kisses while his hand wanders bellow your waistband. with him Price gets to get rid of the anxiety of being too old to be useful because someone needs to make his boyfriend into a proper man. and when his boy does things right and suceeds Price rewards him by riding his phat loser cock for the whole night, milking load after load untill nothing comes out anymore

thanks for listening to the ramble i just want some love to the losers of society, there's too many perfect people in fics

Sugar!!!!!!! This is one of my favorite things I’ve ever read why do y’all leave these masterpieces in my inbox on anon you should post this sugar 🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️

Especially the gaz and price part???

Imagine all eyes on Gaz in whatever room he walks in they barley notice you behind him but he’s always got a hand around your waist, gently nudging you forward and introducing you as his boyfriend to whoever’s there

He lets you take the stage just endearingly staring at you while you try to make conversation with whoever was eager to meet the two of you

And after you’re done you got a goofy smile on your face feeling happy that you managed to get through that conversation without fucking it up

And Gaz? He’s swiftly pulling you into a room crashing his lips against yours and it doesn’t take much before he’s riding your cock marking you up and feeling all possessive because yes this wonderful sweetheart is his boyfriend and he needs the world to know that

Or you, Price’s boyfriend feeling a bit insecure because Price has so much experience and you have none but he loves it, loves how you look at his old man body with such amazement love how eager you are to learn how to get him off, tears trickling down your cheek as you suck his cock, using your hands wherever your mouth can’t reach

Or you being careful as ever when you first fuck, asking him if he’s okay, if you’re hurting him all while he’s looking at you with the biggest smile on his face because bloody hell how did he get so lucky to have someone as sweet as you and he’s even more endeared when you’re swiftly apologizing because you came too quickly

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hii! Could you write something about reader being JJ’s teenage daughter and is in a school shooting. Just for some dramatics and more hurt, she gets shot in the shoulder when she tries to help her friend who’s already shot. (Lots and lots of hurt and then comfort pretty pleeeease <3)

Hey, anon! This is my first time writing something like this, so I hope it's what you're looking for! 💖 –illdowhatiwantthanks

Fight or Flight

Jennifer Jareau x daughter!reader Warnings: HUGE BIG WARNINGS for gun violence, school/active shooter situation, descriptions of injuries/blood, general anxiety/trauma/fear, hurt/comfort (please let me know if I've left something out!) Word count: 2.1k

Summary: You're in the cafeteria, when another student opens fire. When your friend is injured, you have to decide whether to take your mom's advice–"GET OUT"–or stay to keep your friend safe.

You didn’t know it could be so quiet and so loud at the same time. The blood pounding in your ears drowning out everything else so that each scream, each squeak of a tennis shoe against the cafeteria tile, each gunshot, is muffled.

You can’t tell who has the gun, can’t tell where the shots are coming from. The moment you heard the first shot, you were scrambling under the table, so fast, so frantic that you slammed your head on the seat going down and felt blood start to drip down past your brow bone.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t settle your eyes anywhere–the whole room just a blur of sound and color. Shaking, you turned to your right to squeeze further under the table and noticed your best friend, Colin, gasping beside you, blood spurting from his lower leg.

He was crying–that was all you could focus on at first. Not the blood, not the sound, not the chaos around you. It was Colin, crying.

You crawled over to him, pressing your hands against the wound and pushing down the bile that rose in your throat at how warm it was. You wanted to say something, wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, or that you were there for him, but you couldn’t manage anything at all. Couldn’t cry or scream or speak or anything. But you met his teary eyes and knew that he knew you weren’t going to leave him.

Your hands weren’t doing much to stop the blood, and the growing pool scared you. You wanted your mom and dad, you needed your mom and dad. Surely, they would have been contacted by now? Surely, the BAU was on their way? This was the kind of thing your mom would get called in for.

The sounds of the bullets grew fainter–the shooter was moving away from the cafeteria. Leaving one hand pressed against Colin’s leg and using the other to pull your phone from your back pocket, you tried to text your mom:

There’s a shooter. Colin shot in leg. So much blood. What to do? I love you

Your mom texted back immediately, and you’d never been more relieved that your go-to was to have your phone on silent for texting during class. Your mom got so mad at you for it. Wanted you to keep it in your locker. Maybe not anymore.

CAN YOU GET OUT??

You sighed, blood seeping through your fingers as tears streamed down Colin’s cheeks.

No bc Colin.

He will be ok. If you can run, RUN. Local police is there. BAU on the way. 

You stared at the text, trying to ignore the pained screams of other students around you, the frantic footsteps of those trying to flee the building. It could be you. You could flee the building. But Colin couldn’t. And you couldn’t leave him, you just couldn’t. It wasn’t who you were. So even though you knew your mom would kill you later, you sent the text anyway:

No. Staying with Colin. He’s bleeding bad. What do I do?

The three dots seemed to last forever. You were sure she was going to yell at you, berate you, order you out of the building. Instead:

Take your hoodie off and wrap it around his leg. 2-3 inches above the wound. Tight as you can.

Then play dead. DO NOT MOVE until police say so. And follow their directions exactly.

You did as she said, using your body weight to pull the hoodie tight around Colin’s leg. You shoved his sleeve into his mouth when he screamed, but it was too late.

Lost in the texts, lost in taking care of Colin, you hadn’t noticed the students running back this way, the gunshots growing louder again. And all of a sudden, a searing, tearing pain shot through your shoulder, and it exploded into a bloody mess. When you saw bone, you thought you might vomit, but every other thought in your head disappeared as a pair of tattered Converse stopped in front of you and Colin. You could see the long end of the rifle trailing at his shins.

You jumped a little when he bent down to look at you, and in that moment you were sure you were going to die. And you wished you’d texted your dad, too, wondered if it would haunt him that you hadn’t. You wished you’d listened a little closer this morning when Henry told you about his latest comic book. Wished that you hadn’t been so quick to wipe the spittle from Michael’s sloppy kiss off your cheek. Wished that you hadn’t gotten on the bus this morning pissed at your mom because she wouldn’t let you go to the beach with your friends this summer. You almost wished you’d done what she said–that’d you’d run–but you’d never have been able to forgive yourself for leaving Colin.

The biggest surprise of all: you recognized the shooter’s face. It was Daniel. From band. Seventh chair trombone. Greasy hair. Pimply face. Even quieter than you. He always wore AC/DC t-shirts. You weren’t friends exactly, but you said hi to him when it was appropriate. You knew he didn’t really have any friends, tried to be nice to him, but you didn’t have much in common, didn’t know what to talk to him about.

“Ugh. Jareau,” he said, as if he was disappointed to see you. “You could’ve left, you know?”

You were shaking so bad your vision was nearly blurry, and your voice felt thick in your throat, like syrup.

“H-hey, Daniel,” you whispered, trembling.

You watched him pull a box of bullets out of his sweatshirt pocket, and open up the gun to reload it. You could run. You could run now. But if you did… well, you couldn’t leave Colin. And you could try to get the gun away from him, but he seemed too alert right now. And the fact of the matter was, Daniel was bigger and stronger than you.

“Honestly, Y/N? Kind of wish you weren’t here. You were kind of nice sometimes.”

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you told him, inching forward a bit, trying to get close enough to the gun that you could wrest it from his grasp.

“Well, I mean, there’s not really any going back at this point, you know?” he said, clicking the gun back into place and cocking it.

You were frantic now, head spinning. “Wait!” you stuttered. “My m-mom. She’s an FBI agent. She can get you out of here. A-alive.”

You were so close. So close to being able to grab the gun. You turned slightly so that your good arm was closest to Daniel and thanked the universe it was your non-dominant arm that had been hit.

“Hmm,” Daniel said, and you could tell he was faking it. That he was being sarcastic. “Yeah, somehow, I don’t believe you.”

And it was then, as he moved to put the extra ammunition back in his pocket, when his grip would be the least firm, that you lunged forward to grab the gun. You tried your best to keep it pointed to the floor, so that if he pulled the trigger, it’d hit your lower extremities or, better yet, nothing at all. You were scared. You were so, so scared. You didn’t think you’d ever been so scared. Daniel was bigger than you. He was stronger.

But he didn’t have two law enforcement agents as parents. Parents that had put you in self-defense and martial arts classes from the time you could walk. Parents that had taught you how to handle a gun by your tenth birthday.

You kneed Daniel in the groin as hard as you could then, hands shaking, wrestled the gun out of his grip, holding it with ease–or as much ease as you could manage given the circumstances and the searing, throbbing pain in your shoulder–and turning it on Daniel.

You scrambled to your feet, chest heaving, and tried to channel your mom. What would she do? How would she make sure she didn’t lose control of the situation?

Your voice shook, even as you tried to be forceful, assured.

“Get on your knees!” you yelled, pointing the gun at him. “Put your hands behind your head!”

Daniel laughed, and it unnerved you. It scared you.

“Damn, Jareau,” he chuckled. “Didn’t see this coming.”

But you were both caught off-guard by the cafeteria doors slamming open and a flood of armed and armored officers storming through the doors. But their guns weren’t trained on Daniel. They were pointing at you.

“FBI!” they shouted. “On the ground! On the ground!”

You weren’t sure how to put your hands up without moving the gun, and you were afraid if you moved the gun, they’d shoot you. Your knees shook, and you were terrified you were going to fall down.

“Hold your fire!” And this time, your knees really did buckle. You knew that voice.

Your mom shot through the line of arm red officers, sprinting toward you and shoving her gun back into its holster.

“She’s not the shooter!” your mom yelled.

“It’s him,” you called weakly, pointing at Daniel who sat slumped next to you.

“She’s my daughter!” And this time, her voice broke. She collided with you, wrapping you so tightly in her arms, holding you up as all the tears you hadn’t been able to cry came pouring out of you. She had never felt so solid, so warm, so safe. Your mom. You wanted your mom, you needed your mom, and she was here.

“Take it,” you sobbed, shoving the gun away from you toward the other officers, who cuffed Daniel. “Please, take it.”

Your mom ripped off her bulletproof vest to hold you closer to her chest, rocking you on her lap. And she smelled like home. She smelled like the lavender shampoo that you both used, like baby food, like mom.

“I’m here, honey,” she said, pressing kisses into your head and examining your body. “I’m right here. You’re safe. You did so good.”

As paramedics moved in, you waved one down and pointed to Colin, who shook on the floor next to you. “Please!” you cried, sucking in shaky breaths. “My friend needs help!”

“You need help, too, honey,” your mom said, gently, brushing hair off your shoulder to examine the bullet wound. “You think you can stand and walk?”

You nodded, thankful for your mom’s steadiness, her strength, and she wrapped her arms around your body and heaved you to your feet. The rest of her team–your BAU family–stood at a distance, watching, and you knew you’d thank them later, that they’d hug you. Bring you food. Make sure you felt safe again. But you didn’t know how you’d ever feel safe again.

In the ambulance (they let you and your mom ride to the hospital with Colin), you leaned against your mom and she held you tight, so tight, as if she’d never let you go again.

You’d stopped crying for a bit, but the tears started streaming all over again a few minutes later.

“Hey,” your mom cooed, rubbing your good shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” you cried, shaking.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She turned your head toward her, so that you had to look her in the eye. “Sorry for what?”

“You told me to run, and I didn’t. And–and I was mad at you this morning! I’m so sorry. I was so scared and I thought… I thought I might not get to tell you I love you.”

If you’d looked up, you would have seen your mom blink away tears. You would have seen her struggle to keep her composure, seen her face scrunch up as she pressed her lips to the top of your head.

“Y/N,” she said. “You don’t need to be sorry. Honey, I’m so proud of you. What you did today? Baby, that was brave. You were so, so brave. You saved Colin’s life. I never thought I could be angry and proud at the same time, but here we are.”

You both laughed a little and sniffed.

“I love you, Mom,” you whispered, burying your face in her.

She pulled you even closer into her, wrapping you in her arms, and you knew that no matter what–no matter what happened, no matter how scary things got–she would keep you safe. She would never let you go again.

“I love you too, honey. I love you so much.” And you could feel her tears drip down onto your head, feel them washing away the blood.

[hysteria-things]

Love your two works! Could you write something about Matt dating a girl in college and his reaction to meeting all her friends?

BELLA NOTTE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your college friends have been asking to meet your boyfriend for a while. he’s visiting for a weekend, but the downside is that he’s terrified to meet them.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: anxiety, cutesy fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 865

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you anon! i hope you like this. i loved writing it :)

the laughter died down after a few minutes, you and your two closest college friends hanging out in their dorm. your friends sat in their assigned bed while you sat in the beanbag in the corner. it was thursday night on your lovely college campus.

“so y/n.” your friend jasmine starts, throwing her now empty soda bottle with the food bags scattered in the middle of the room. “when are we going to meet that boyfriend of yours?”

you smile, a light blush forming on your cheeks. you go to school in LA, meaning that visits to matt or vice versa are easy. the only thing is that jasmine and sage have yet to meet him.

they ask about him a lot, and your answer is always ‘soon.’

however, matt is supposed to come tomorrow and stay the weekend.

“for real, girl. i’m starting to think your delusions are getting to the best of you and he’s not real.” sage jokes, licking her spoon with ice cream on it.

“he is real.” you say. “lucky for you guys, he’s coming to visit for the weekend tomorrow. i can tell him you guys are dying to meet him.”

the duo let out girlish squeals. “this is so exciting! he sounds like such a good guy.” jasmine smiles over at you.

you return it and nod. “he is.”

matt knocks at your dorm door in the late afternoon, making you spring up from your bed and open it. “matt!”

“hey, baby.” he greets, pecking you on the lips before entering your single dorm.

he sets his backpack down next to your bed and rubs his sweaty hands on his pants. “so, uh… when are they coming?”

“around seven. we still got a few hours.” you walk over to your bed and sit. you scan matt’s face, and you can tell he’s nervous.

the lip-biting, the hand fiddling, the looking at the ground.

“you have nothing to worry about, love,” you reassure, grabbing his hands and rubbing your thumbs on them to calm him.

“i know.” he sighs, sitting down beside you. “can we watch lady and the tramp?”

one thing about matt is that whenever he’s feeling anxious about something, he turns to binging disney movies to distract him. it’s one of the many qualities you love about him because even at twenty, he doesn’t let the kid in him go.

the closer seven rolls around, matt’s fiddling and lip-biting don’t get any better. your head rests on his chest, the both of you facing the small TV you have. you can hear his heartbeat.

“talk to me, matt,” you say calmly, being that all you hear in your ear is the erratic pump of his heart.

“is it stupid for me to be so scared?” he asks lowly, playing with your hair.

you lean off of him so you can face his front. he has a look of worry on his face, and it makes your heartache.

“not at all. it’s normal to be nervous when meeting new people.” you stroke his face with your hand, and he leans into your touch. he kisses your palm.

“if you get too anxious, i can ask them to leave. they won’t mind at all.”

he exhales. “thank you.”

bella notte starts to play on the TV, and the music makes you smile. out of all the binging disney movies with matt, this song has to be your number one.

“listen.” you exclaim, pointing to the TV. “it’s going to be a bella notte. a beautiful night. trust me, okay?”

your disney reference forces the cutest smile on his face and he nods.

you kiss him on the head and as if on queue, a knock floods the room. “come in!”

sage is the one to walk in first, jasmine following behind. she glances at the TV and gasps. “omg i didn’t know you guys were watching a movie. we can come back when it’s over—”

“not at all.” matt smiles at them. he takes your hand in his and squeezes. “why not watch it with us? i’m matt, by the way.”

“i’m sage, and this is jasmine. it’s so nice to finally meet you! y/n doesn’t shut up about you.”

“sometimes it gets a little too intense.” jasmine says, but in a joking manner.

“sorry, i love him,” you say coldly. you hear matt giggle.

the girls get comfortable in chairs and join you guys in the movie.

as the minutes go by, you sense that matt starts to calm down a little. the whole time his hand is in yours, playing with the ring he got you for one of your anniversaries.

he chirps into some conversations, and the night is better than you can imagine.

matt wakes up the next morning to the sun beaming through your curtains. what he didn’t wake up to was you.

he looked around the dorm room, but you were nowhere to be seen. he groggily reached to his phone to see if you texted him but instead found a note on top of it.

he started to read the small piece of paper, smiling like a fool while doing so.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch! This is kinda a scary ask to send but you’ve always seemed kind to other people asking scary questions so I feel brave enough to ask. So I’m a person with what I would say a fairly healthy and positive attitude abt sex- big fan of jacking off when the mood strikes and I’ve had a few partners. However, something that is really upsetting and scary to me are sex dreams because a lot of times I have dreams abt having sex with ppl I shouldn’t be having sex with and DONT WANT to be having sex with- notably, my father and my brother. I have strange dreams normally- anxiety related usually- but I HATE waking up from these dreams, I feel so sick and ashamed. I’m not even generally attracted to men, and these dreams make me feel like I need to second guess my identity. Additionally, my father is dead so I wake up feeling like my brain has disrespected his memory.

I’m trying to get a therapist for other unrelated reasons but a) my insurance is terrible and I’m having trouble finding someone in network and b) I would be so scared to say these things to a therapist - what if I’m secretly much more mentally ill than I knew, what if they hospitalize me, what if they put me on a sex offender registry?

Beyond “go to therapy” is there any advice you can offer me? It’s really very distressing and I’m really sick of it.

hi anon,

let's take a BIG DEEP BREATH before we start, okay?

so, first and foremost let me just say this, because it's important: nobody is going to hospitalize you or put you on a registry for something happening in your dreams. your dreams are not necessarily a reflection of anything you want or would enjoy in real life; your dreams are a pile of goo your brain spits out while its sifting information around trying to make a bunch of pieces fit together. unfortunately, I worry that you amount of stress and anxiety you feel about these dreams may be keeping them so front and center in your mind that makes them keep coming up over and over when you're asleep, creating a vicious cycle.

listen, I can't tell you how to change or feel better about your dreams. but I can tell you that people having sexual dreams that are in no way indicative of their actual desires is INCREDIBLY COMMON. none of those people are a danger to themselves or anyone else because of something their subconscious does that's entirely beyond their control, and that includes you.

having said that, it's totally understandable that you find these dreams disturbing and upsetting. for the time being, while you're managing them on your own, try to get yourself to a calm place while you're getting ready for bed - whatever works for you, whether it's mindfulness, melatonin, exercise, tea, warm bath and candles, taking time away from your phone, etc - and preparing space to be gentle with yourself and get into a good headspace when you wake up by making an extra nice breakfast, taking a long shower, going for a long walk, or anything else that will help you get out of your head and take care of yourself in the aftermath of an upsetting dream.

and if you do manage to find a reliable therapist soon, which I hope you do, I would strongly encourage you to bring this up with them if the problem is still persisting by then. anything causing you anxiety and distress is something that is worth talking over with a therapist, especially since leaving one stress factor unaddressed can also hold you back from resolving others - it's hard to focus on anything when restful sleep is off the table. once you've established a good rapport with a therapist, some conversations around this could be super helpful for you.

wishing you the best with finding some peace of mind xoxo

[tasteleeknow]

pairing: minho x virgin!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 6.3k requested by: anon

summary: you’re insecure, both about being inexperienced and about revealing your body to him fully. minho asks if he can show you how much he likes you. a sickly sweet, body worship, virgin!reader smut.

afab!reader. virgin!reader. profanity. protected intercourse [oral (f.rec), squirting, grinding, nipple licking]. body insecurity [no mention of body weight]. body worship. pet names.

“Would you like one?” you ask, offering Minho one of the red lollipops you kept stashed in your bag. It was a desperate attempt to distract from the lull in conversation. Not exactly an awkward silence, but enough to make you nervous. You’d spent so much time with him, you shouldn’t be this nervous. It was just that you liked him. A lot. You liked him so much you had struggled to sleep at all the night before, up late with a cocktail of nerves and butterflies swirling around your stomach. 

He takes the lollipop from you, his fingers brushing against yours—one of the only times you’d touched him. Your chest tightens a little at the thought. You wanted to touch him more, very much. It was the idea of him touching you back that had your anxiety flaring up. 

“Why do you always carry these around?” he asks before popping the candy in his mouth. You watch him swirl his tongue around, pushing the red lollipop in and out of his mouth a few times before he lets go of the little white stick—freeing you to answer his question. 

“Oh, I—I don’t know. I just got in the habit at some point, I guess. I don’t eat them very often but…I think I just find it comforting to have them.” He pushes the candy into his cheek. “I know that’s silly,” you add.

“Nah,” he says, pulling the lollipop from his mouth and gesturing at your surroundings with it. “I think they’re the perfect complement to a scene like this.” 

You look out over the ocean, the horizon a bright orange as the sun disappears over the curve of the earth. This was the third time you’d watched the sunset with him this week. You’d lost count of how many dates you’d been on total. Your best friend had assured you he was definitely into you. “How could you go on so many dates with someone and not be into them?” she’d said. You weren’t convinced. He hadn’t kissed you. He hadn’t even tried. You wondered if he just enjoyed your company, if he wasn’t attracted to you at all but was too kind to break it off. 

You had no doubt he knew you were attracted to him. You were incapable of subtly, not when it came to him anyway. “Are you free tomorrow?” he asks, legs swinging over the ledge you both sit on. 

“Mm, I think so.” 

“So you can be out late?”

“Is there something else you wanted to do?”

“I made a pudding,” he says, looking a little nervous. You’d never seen him nervous before. Not visibly, anyway. “I thought maybe you’d like to come to mine and try it.”

You brain blanks. You’d never been to his place before, nor him yours. Words. Words are good. You definitely should say some words. “I—I mean—” 

“It’s alright, no pressure,” he says, picking himself up—leaving you sitting on the ledge alone. You jump up, turning to grab his arm—wobbling a little as you lose your footing. He looks down at where your fingers grasp his forearm tightly. You drop it quickly, cheeks warming. 

“I want to,” you blurt out. “I mean… I like pudding.” 

One corner of his mouth curves up into a small smile, the lollipop pushed into his cheek. You want to poke the little bump. He reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers. You hold your breath. “It’s vanilla. Come on then,” he says, pulling you towards where he’d parked his car. 

You lean forward on the couch to accept the coffee mug Minho offers you. “I uh, didn’t really have anything else to put them in,” he says, placing his own mug of pudding on the coffee table in front of you. You inspect the pudding as he returns to the kitchen. It was nearly to the lip of the mug. “Here,” he says, having returned with two spoons. 

He settles himself into the lounge beside you and then grabs the remote, pressing play on the movie you’d chosen. You take a small spoonful, checking Minho’s attention is on the screen before wrapping your lips around it. It’s smooth and sweet and better than any pudding you’ve had before. 

“You made this?” you ask, pulling his attention from the opening credits. 

“Mm, is it alright?” 

“It’s amazing.” 

He smiles, falling back into the cushions. “Good.” 

“Do you think you could teach me? Or you could just give me the recipe? I mean—you don’t have to. I just—”

He rests his hand on your thigh, halting your verbal vomit. “Sure, I can teach you.” 

“Thank you.” You dig out a much bigger spoonful, waiting for him to pull his hand away. He doesn’t, looking back to the movie—his pudding abandoned on the coffee table. When you’d first sat down on his couch, your summer shorts riding up your thighs had made you regret them instantly—grabbing a cushion to hold in your lap. Now? Now you didn’t regret them quite as much, enjoying his casual touch.

You get about half way through the mug before feeling like you’ve had as much as you can fit in, still full from dinner. You lean forward to place the mug gently on the table, his hand finally pulling away from your thigh at your movement. He grabs his own pudding, devouring it at an impressive rate. 

You hadn’t really been paying attention to the movie at all, focused entirely on the man next to you. Everytime he readjusts himself, fidgets, drinks from his large water bottle, you’re hyper aware of it. When you tap on his arm lightly to ask where the bathroom is, he leans close—as if you aren’t the only two ppl in the room. 

The mugs clink together behind you as you leave the room, Minho taking the chance to clean up while the movie is paused. His bathroom has a full length mirror, a little odd in such a small place. It catches you a little off guard. You usually avoided them. Your mascara is a little smudged. You sigh, turning to grab a piece of toilet paper and wipe under your eyes. 

When you’ve cleaned it up as best as you can you suck in a deep breath, suddenly feeling like you want to run. Run to the front door and away from the man you’d developed overwhelming feelings for, feelings that frankly scared you. 

He’d touched you more tonight than he had in the few months you’d known him. You’d met through a friend, seeing him occasionally at group gatherings. He made you feel seen, making an effort to ask you how you were every time you saw him. He even remembered the little things you mentioned about yourself. He heard you and he cared enough to remember. You weren’t aware you were going on dates until the fourth time you spent time alone. 

You’d gone indoor rock-climbing and after managing only half the kids' wall he’d confessed it was a bad idea for a date. He’d heard you mention it was something you’d always wanted to try and decided to give it ago, despite his fear of heights. You’d been so distracted by the word ‘date’ you hadn’t noticed his ears turning a bright red. “I’m sorry,” he’d said, having ended the session early. “Do you want to come to the beach with me instead?” you’d replied, instigating your first ever sunset date. 

You take a step back from the mirror, turning side to side to inspect your body. All his casual touches were leading up to something, and you wanted so badly to be the type of person who could lean into it—to show him how much you wanted him. You think about all the people you’d pushed away, unable to overcome your insecurities enough to be vulnerable with them in that way. 

You didn’t know how to bring it up to him, that you hadn’t done this before. You were so amazed someone like him could be interested in you at all, revealing something like that could scare him off. You lift your shirt to touch your stomach. Even if he wasn’t scared off, you might make the experience so terrible he’d never try again. You had no idea what the fuck you were doing. 

You lean over the sink, wetting your hands and pressing the cold water to your neck. The things you want in life could sometimes be found outside your comfort zone. Or something. Your best friend had given you a pep talk a few days ago when you’d been unable to keep in all your anxieties. You huff out a small laugh, amused one of her rambling inspirational speeches actually stuck in your mind a little.

When you reemerge the balcony door is wide open, Minho leans against the railing—looking out at the city lights. You take one final deep breath then follow him out, deciding to be brave and placing one of your hands gently over his. He looks down at your hands, then to you. When he pulls his hand away your heart drops. Then he turns to face you, placing his hand at your waist. All your concentration goes into keeping your breathing even. You imagine a little crew in your brain, panicking and sending all resources to maintain an outward appearance of calm. You hope it’s working. 

He pulls you a little closer, his eyes dropping to your mouth before looking up again. “Did you really like my pudding or were you just being nice?”

Not what you were expecting. You blink a few times as you attempt to regather your thoughts. “I liked it, really. It was the nicest pudding I've ever had. I really would like you to teach me how you made it.” 

“So sweet,” he mutters, mouth curving into one of his little half smiles. You drop your eyes to his chest, totally unprepared to deal with a comment like that. It doesn’t stop him from continuing. “Do you know how sweet you are? What it does to me? Drives me fucking crazy.” 

You can’t help looking up at his eyes, a little shocked by his language. He was always so soft around you, including his language. “Like that,” he continues. “Your eyes right now, all wide and innocent. I’ve tried…to wait for you to show me you’re ready. That you want me. Then you showed up today in those little shorts, smiling at me like the fucking sun.” His hand at your waist moves up and down, a gentle caress. “Can I have you? Please? Tell me I can have you.” 

You know you’ve failed at keeping a calm outward appearance, your chest rises and falls erratically. You lift your hands to your cheeks, they’re burning. He drops his hand from your waist, both his hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands from your face gently. 

“Please,” he breathes. 

Good things are outside your comfort zone, you repeat in your head. If this worked out you were going to buy your friend a car full of her favourite snacks… and a puppy. A million puppies. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. He keeps his hold on your wrists, holding your arms up on each side of you. It isn’t until you pull away that he drops them, wrapping both arms around you to pull you tightly against him. He resumes the kiss you’d started. His lips are pillowy against yours. He tastes like the pudding he’d devoured. You wrap your arms around his neck and he turns you, pushing you back until you’re pressed into the wall. 

By the time he pulls his lips from yours you’re practically panting, attempting to catch your breath. Each of his arms frame your head against the wall. “Was that a yes?” he says, breath equally uneven. 

You’re confused for a second, completely lost. Yes?… oh. Can I have you? You drop your eyes to his chest again. Was this the right moment to tell him? You imagined him backing away, trying to find the words to tell you he wasn’t into you enough to deal with the baggage. 

“I—It’s just…”

He drops his hands from the wall, taking a small step back. He looks vulnerable, but he’s quiet—waiting for you to finish. 

“I’ve never really done this before. I don’t want you to sign up for this—for me—and then back out. I don’t think I can handle it,” you finish, sucking in a deep shaky breath. 

“Why would I back out?” 

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been in a real relationship, I’ve never liked someone like this, I’ve never—” you pause, all the courage draining from your body. He takes a small step towards you again. 

“Never…?” 

“Slept with anyone.” 

He presses one hand to the wall again, the other brushing your hair over your shoulder. “I’m not asking to fuck you, I’m asking you to be mine. You tell me if you ever want to give the rest a try, and I’m here.” His palm moves up to cup your cheek. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. 

“But I do,” you whisper back. You’re not sure why you’re both being quiet. There’s no one to overhear. You’re grateful for it anyway, the words are easier to get out in hushed tones. “I do want to, I really, really want to.” 

He smiles, then presses his lips to yours softly. “Really, really?,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice taking on a teasing tone you were very used to at this point. 

“Are you sure you want me? In that way…”

“I really, really want you. I want you if you want to stay here with me tonight and let me show you how good I can make you feel…and I want you if you want to wait. I just want you, whichever way you’ll let me have you.” 

“Why?” 

“I spend any free day I have with you.” He takes one of your hands and presses it to his chest, over his heart. “You make me feel steady. You make my life feel bright, and warm…and hopeful…” He presses his forehead to yours. You close your eyes. “I want to make yours warm too. I want to give you what you give me. Let me,” he finishes.

His lips hover over yours, brushing them so lightly it tickles. You press forward suddenly, pushing into him hard. He stumbles back a step, huffing a laugh into your mouth and wrapping his arms around you. 

You’d spent months with him, hearing all his worries and hopes and dreams. He made you nervous and giddy and now finally… hopeful. Hopeful that he might want you back the same way. His hand slips under the hem of your shirt, thumb brushing against your skin. You crash back down, remembering why you hadn’t had this before. How you’d looked in the mirror minutes before. You take a big step back, his arms dropping from you. 

“S-Sorry,” you sputter out, stepping back again until your back hits the wall. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

You watch his face fall, his sad eyes making you hate yourself more. Coward. “This?” he asks, gesturing between you. “As in right now? Or this as in us in general?”

“General. In general. I’m just not—I’m not right.”

He frowns, one foot stepping towards you and then he hesitates—keeping his distance. “Not right?” he asks, brows furrowed in confusion. You sigh, suddenly exhausted. He rocks forward a little, like he’s deciding whether to stay away, and then steps towards you slowly. “What do you mean ‘not right’?” he asks again.

Your eyes trail up his body as he steps closer. When he stops, directly in front of you again, you lift one finger to trace down his face. “Do you know how lovely you are? How beautiful? In every way,” you whisper.

He lifts his hand to take your wrist. “What do you mean by ‘not right’?” he repeats. 

“For you.” 

“Shouldn’t I decide that for myself? I choose you. I want you. You’re everything.” 

“You haven’t seen me,” you blurt out, instantly regretting it. You drop your eyes to the ground. 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Fully? Is that what you mean? Without clothes?” 

You groan, more embarrassed than you’ve ever been in your life. He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Can you trust me enough to believe me when I say I think you’re perfect. I’m so—” he pauses, eyes flicking across your face. “I really, really like you,” he says, lips curving a little. “Let me show you how much? Just say stop whenever you need. I just want to show you how beautiful you are, hm?”

“You’re…you’re sure?”

“Really, really sure.” He offers you a small reassuring smile. 

You’re quiet for a moment, considering if you really were brave enough for this. Then you look up at him, patiently waiting for you. You reach down to take his hand, pulling him with you as you re enter his apartment. You lead him past his bathroom, to the closed door you’d seen earlier. It had to be his bedroom. You stop with your hand on the door knob, looking up at him for permission. He presses his hand over yours, pressing the handle down and pushing the door open. Then he takes the lead, pulling you slowly into the room. 

He lets go of your hand to walk around the bed and flick a small light on, filling the room with a soft light. You’re grateful he didn’t go for the ceiling light. He unbuttons the top of his shirt as he approaches you. “Will you do the rest for me?” he asks, voice low. 

You nod, beginning with the button second from the top. You’re amazed at the steadiness of your hands, especially considering the rate at which your heart is beating in your chest. You keep your eyes directly ahead of you, on each new patch of his skin you reveal as you work your way down. 

When the last button is freed, and each side of the shirt falls open to reveal his bare torso, you can’t help reaching up to press each of your palms on his chest. He’s so warm—and if you concentrate, you can feel his heart beating in his chest. You run your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, pushing the white button-down shirt off as you go. You come back to yourself as it hits the ground, pulling your hands from him quickly. 

He wraps his fingers around your wrists, preventing you from retreating completely. You look up into his eyes as he places your hands on his chest again. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice taking on a gentle tone. Even gentler than usual. “You can touch me. Wherever you like.” 

You smile, then push—hard enough for him to fall back onto the bed. A look of determination crosses his face and he reaches for you, pulling you back down with him. “Got you,” he mutters just before pressing his lips to yours. He rolls over you, pressing his body down into yours—not all his weight, just enough to feel comforting. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he says between kisses. You hum against his mouth and he pulls back just enough to speak. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you answer before pulling him back down again. You’re so consumed by him you forget all your worries for a few blissful minutes. 

It isn’t until his hand slips under the hem of your shirt again you remember why you’d been so nervous. He must notice you tense up because he halts his movements. “Want me to stop?” he asks. 

“No, just…nervous.” 

“You’re okay.” He lifts the hem of your shirt slowly, keeping his eyes on your face. “I’ve got you.”

Your eyes flick to his pouty upper lip. You think about all the times you’d thought how much you loved it, how this small feature on his face was a part of him you adored so much. Surely, others must have those thoughts about you. It wasn’t impossible, anyway. You wonder if Minho did. 

He pulls your shirt over your head and you squeeze your eyes shut. It didn’t make sense. Closing your eyes didn’t stop him seeing you. You supposed it did stop you seeing his reaction. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips. “Look at me,” he encourages. 

You peek one eye open. He looks down at you, eyes a little hooded. “Good girl,” he says, kissing you softly. He presses small kisses across your cheek, down to your neck. He speaks in between. “Remember what I said earlier? How sweet you are?” 

You breath hitches as he sucks gently on a sensitive patch of skin just above your clavicles. You picture his pillowy lips on your skin, the pouty upper lip you love so much. 

“You’re sweet inside and out, aren’t you honey? Hm? So fucking sweet,” He keeps muttering as his kisses move down to your breasts, his soft lips pressing to the skin peaking out from your bra. An embarrassing noise escapes your throat. He looks up at you. “What was that? Did you make a sweet little noise for me?”

“Min?” 

“Hm?” 

“Should I take this off?” you ask, fiddling with the bra strap over your shoulder. 

“Whatever you want. Do you want it off?” 

“I—I think so.” 

He lifts himself off you and you sit up to watch him move up the bed to adjust himself against his pillows, patting his lap. “Come here, I'll help you.” 

You crawl up the bed, feeling a little awkward as you climb into his lap. You wrap your arms around your stomach. He presses his face to your neck, humming against your skin. Knowing he couldn’t see you, you relax a little—moving your arms from your waist to wrap around his neck. His fingers fiddle with the clasp at your back, not rushing to remove it once he’d succeeded in undoing each one. He lets go, letting the bra fall apart—the straps falling down your shoulders a little. He keeps his face buried in your shoulder, running his hands up and down your back gently. 

“Doing so well,” he murmurs into your skin. A little shiver runs up your spine. 

You pull back, attaching your mouth to his quickly—distracting him with your lips as you slip the bra down your arms and drop it onto the bed next to you. He pulls you against him. A few hours ago a brush of his fingers was enough to make your chest tighten, and now you’re half naked—bare chests pressed tightly together, his soft lips attached to yours. A short wave of dizziness passes over you at the realisation, pulling away from him slightly. 

“Will you lie down for me?” Minho says, his voice a little breathy. 

You nod, climbing off him so you can lay back against the pillows next to him. You hold your breath, scrutinising his face for any flicker of disappointment as his eyes scan over your bare chest for the first time. He climbs over you and falls forward, attaching his lips to the skin between your breasts—offering you no warning. You grip the sheets next to you, overwhelmed as he begins kissing a trail towards your nipple. 

You can’t help gasping as he sucks it into his mouth, wet tongue playing with you much like he had your red lollipop. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you—too overwhelmed to feel shy about it. He groans, the vibrations against your wet nipple triggering a whine to slip from your throat. 

By the time he’s given the same treatment to the other, you’re not even trying to hold back the small sounds you’re making—whining and moaning his name. Your eyes are hardly open when he moves up to kiss you, his lips wet against yours. You hardly move, letting him press sloppy kisses over your mouth. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs between kisses, drawing a whimper out. “Gonna make you feel good.”

“Min—Minho…”

“Mm? What is it, sweetheart?” 

“You really—You really think so?”

He presses one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Think what?” he whispers, pulling back so he can see your face—a knowing smirk on his lips. 

“What you said.” 

“What did I say?” 

“That I'm…” you trail off, unable to get the word out. 

“Say it,” he encourages, brushing his thumb over your lips. Your eyes drop to his lips, wet and swollen. 

“Perfect,” you whisper, barely audible. 

“So fucking sweet,” he groans, trailing kissing from your lips down to your stomach. When he reaches the hem of your shorts he looks back up at you. “Okay?” he asks, fingers playing with the zip. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, throwing your head back as he slowly pulls the small zipper down and works them gradually down your thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut as he pulls them off your legs and settles himself between your thighs, pushing them apart gently. 

“Open your eyes, hm?” he says, the tone of his voice increasingly sweet the more clothes he removes from your body. “It’s okay,” he soothes, his palms massaging over your thighs. “So soft… perfect. You’re fucking perfect, yeah?”

You suck in a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the feeling of his warm hands so close to your centre. “Yeah?” he repeats, clearly seeking a response. 

“Yeah,” you whimper, fingers tangling in the sheets at your side. When his finger brushes lightly over your cunt—cotton underwear the only barrier between you—your back arches off the bed. 

“So sensitive for me…gonna get so you fucking needy, mm?” he mutters, still in his sickly sweet tone—fingers brushing your skin at the edges of your underwear. You fail at keeping your eyes open, squeezing them shut as you twitch and squirm at his teasing touches. He continues muttering small praises, dragging it out until you’re desperate for him to touch you properly. 

Your two minds battle, one desperately wanting to feel his fingers on you, the other embarrassed by the idea of him seeing you like that—seeing that part of you. You take in the situation you're in, how far you’ve come. You’re nearly entirely bare, laid back on his bed—nipples wet from his kisses. You suck in a deep breath. “Min?” 

He huffs out a small laugh. “Mm, baby?” 

“Can you…take them off, please?” 

He crawls up your body, his face hovering over you—forcing you to look into his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, mouth opening as he sucks in a breath, then closing again. Whatever it is, he decides against it—pressing a kiss to your lips so gentle a shiver ripples down your body. 

He shuffles back down. You hold your breath, expecting him to pull your underwear down with the same slow patience he did with your shorts. He doesn’t. He hooks his fingers over the hem, pulling them down quickly—without any hesitation at all. You have no time to feel shy, brain blanking as he attaches his mouth directly to your cunt. He hums against you,  muttering something you can’t make out. 

“Feel—”

He lifts his head, looking up at you—his hair flops into his eyes. “Mm?”

“Feels nice,” you whine. “Thank—Thank you.” 

He licks his lips, then smiles. “You’re thanking me for licking your sweet little cunt?” he asks sweetly. 

You cover your face with your hands, unable to look him in the eyes. Then his mouth is on you again, catching you off guard. Your hips rise up involuntarily off the bed, grinding up into his face. “Knew you would be the sweetest fucking thing, hm? Thanking me for tasting you…” He presses your hips into the bed, holding you down so he can keep his mouth on you—wet, messy noises filling the room again. 

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, overwhelmed by the filthiness of it all. A few hours ago you’d been fixated on his tongue circling a lollipop, and now he was pressing the same tongue into your throbbing cunt. The thought of it pushes you over the edge, Minho’s hands pushing you harder into the mattress as you squirm—riding out your high. You whimper when it’s too much, Minho pulling his head from between your legs when you fall limp against his sheets. 

You’re vaguely aware of wet kisses trailing up your body, staring at the ceiling as you wait for your mind to return from wherever it just flew off to. Then Minho’s messy face appears above you, his lips drenched from completing his mission successfully. “You want more or have you had enough?” he asks, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. 

“More?”

He smiles. “Mm, you’ve tried my mouth. Do you want to try my cock?” 

You blink, shocked at his language—still totally unused to hearing him speak this way. “Okay,” you whisper. 

“Say stop whenever,” he reminds you, climbing off the bed and wandering off somewhere. You’re too fucked out to care, sucking in a deep breath and turning to look out his open window. The sky is clear, offering you a perfect view of the moon. It looks like it might be a full moon. You’d watched the sun disappear at the start of the night, and now the moon watched you. 

Minho returns, resuming his position between your legs. “Would you like to help me?” he asks, offering you a small square of foil. You lift yourself to your elbows and then Minho leans forward to wrap his arms around you to help you sit up fully. You take the small square from him carefully. 

“I don’t… know how.” 

“Would you like me to help you or do you just wanna watch?” 

“Watch,” you answer, holding the wrapped condom back out to him. “Hold it for me for a sec?” he says, climbing off the end of the bed. He stands then turns and beckons you forward. “Come here,” he says, patting the end of the mattress. 

You crawl towards him, tucking your legs under you to sit at the edge. You keep your eyes on his fingers as he undoes the buckle on his belt, then pulls it through his belt loops in one smooth movement. “Do you want to take them off for me?” he asks, gently taking the condom from your fingers. 

You nod, reaching forward to zip his fly down—still avoiding looking at his face. You pause when it’s down fully, unsure if you should just tug them down. His hands cover yours, guiding you up to his waistband. “You can take both off at once,” he says, leaving you a little confused before you realise he means his underwear. Oh god. You can do this. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his underwear at each hip, your fingers brushing his skin. 

You tug, dealing with a little resistance until they're over the curve of his ass. You suck in a little breath as his cock is freed, directly in front of your face. It curves up towards his stomach and you absentmindedly let go of his pants, distracted. It bounces a little as he steps out of his clothes and then his hand wraps around it. You look up. His eyes are fixed on your face, eyes hooded. 

“Watch,” he breathes. Your eyes drop down again, watching as he rolls the condom down his length. Your eyes flick between his twitching cock and the prominent veins in his hand. You're still throbbing between your legs. You can’t tell if it’s residual from your high, or you’ve just never come down—building back up to another. 

“All good, sweetheart?” he asks, gripping himself at his base. You pull your eyes back up to his face again. 

“Good,” you whisper. 

He walks around the bed, your eyes track him as he moves. When he’s laying on his side against the pillows he pats the bed. You crawl up to him, unsure where he wants you. “Face the window,” he says. 

You lie down against the pillow, his back to you. The moon still watches. His arm wraps around you and then you feel his breath on your neck. “Got your sweet cunt all wet…” he breathes into our skin. “Now gotta do the same for my cock.” His lips are pressed to your skin as his fingers begin caressing your thigh. 

“How?” you whisper. 

He pressed his back firmly against yours. “Like this,” he says just as his cock spreads through your folds. You gasp, hand reaching back to grasp his arm. He pauses, cock resting up against you. 

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what feels good,” he says, pressing another kiss to the skin behind your ear. 

“Ev—everything.” 

He rolls his hips. “This?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

“Talk to me,” he encourages. 

“Feel good… your…. you feel good against me.”

“Against you where?” he says sweetly, continuing his grinding. 

“Min,” you gasp. 

“Where, sweetheart?” 

“Pussy. My pussy.” 

One of his hands comes around you to grasp one of your breasts, his movements against you a little harder. He groans, muttering into your ear with each thrust. “So sweet…wet…mine…” His cock brushes your clit with each roll of his hips, working in combination with the words he pants in your ear to wipe your mind clear. His words and his body against yours. That’s it. Your entire world.

You feel it building again. You’ve never come twice this close together before. You feel like you never came down properly, now just building on top of your last. Your hips stutter, pushing back against him hard—a flood of wetness coats your thighs. You gasp, the first feeling that filters back into your head is confusion, then embarrassment. 

“Oh, god. God. Sorry—I’m—I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Shh, baby. You’re perfect,” he groans, hips still grinding into you. “A fucking dream,” he groans and then he’s over you, pressing his lips against yours hard. “You squirted, sweetheart.” His voice is the sweetest you’ve heard all night, heard ever. It seemed like the dirtier the words that left his swollen lips, the sweeter the tone that accompanied them. “All over my fucking cock, mm?” 

He looks at you like you’d just offered him his favourite dessert. “You—are you going to…do it now?” you ask, looking down between your bodies. 

“Do what? Fill you?” he says, his pretty lips curved into a smirk. You nod. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you say, proud of how confident your voice sounds this time. You wanted him to know. How much you really did want him. How much you’d dreamt of him like this. “Please,” you add. 

“Please?” he repeats back to you. “You can have anything. You know that? Anything I can give you,” he threads his fingers in your hair at the back of your head, holding you firmly so you can't look away. “You have no idea…” he mutters under his breath, lips ghosting over yours. 

You feel him, nudging at your entrance. You hold your breath. 

“Breathe,” he says, hot breath against your lips. “Breathe, sweetheart. Just relax, I’ve got you.” He keeps his eyes fixed on yours as he presses in slowly, then out again. You’d expected him to push in all the way, like ripping off a bandaid. You lift your head slightly to connect your lips as the tip of his cock works you open, teasing your throbbing entrance. 

“More,” you mutter into his mouth. He obeys, pressing a little further inside. A small sound escapes your throat, signalling a little twinge of discomfort. He pulls back, stilling for a moment until you nod then begins working into you gradually again. He distracts you with his lips, with his hands on your tits, with sweet words against your lips. Then you’re full. He’s still as you adjust to the feeling of it. He was… inside you. 

You’d been so convinced for months that someone like him could never want you in this way, and now he was inside you. “Min?” you whisper against his lips. 

“Mm?” 

“I like you a lot.” 

You can feel his mouth curve against yours. “Very, very much?”  

Warmth fills your chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Very, very, very much.” 

“I like you more,” he says, hips grinding against you a little. 

You're lost in his kisses as he works himself up, increasing his pace a little as you adjust to the feeling of him filling you. Then he starts moaning. The small sounds that slip from his lips into your mouth make you wish you’d been brave earlier—that you could get back all the time you’d wasted being afraid. He was worth being brave. 

“You’re so good to me,” you whisper against his lips, drawing another pretty moan out of him. “I’ve always thought you were so lovely, ever since we first met. You were so kind and thoughtful…and beautiful.” 

“Sweetest…” he mutters between moans, “...the fucking sweetest.” 

“Will you come for me, Min? Please?”

He drops his head to your neck, hips stuttering into you. You wrap your arms around him, stroking his back in gentle circles as he moves against you a little more. Then he stills completely. His weight against your body reminds you of the weighted blanket you used to soothe your anxiety at night. You turn your head as he pants in your neck, the moon still bright and clear in the sky.  

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ masterlist

[calicoheartz]

Embracing Truth ; Paige Bueckers ┈﹒

꣑୧ — summary | paige helps her gf come out of the closet 💐💌❤️

wc ; 870

— warnings | smalll hints of homophobia , anxiety related topics , mainly fluff + established relationship

my master list ㇀♡

1) i am sooo sorry for not responding to ur request anon! I accidentally deleted it from my drafts :(

a/n : this was so sweet and cute to write 🥰 this definitely healed something in me. Enjoy ◡̈

Paige sat on the edge of the bed, watching as her girlfriend, y/n, paced nervously back and forth between the blondes dorm. She could tell something was weighing heavily on your mind, and her instincts told her it was something serious. 

You and Paige had been dating since your second year of college, meeting during one of your shared classes. You knew you had always been into girls, often experimenting with them in highschool. But there was one problem, your parents didn't know.

They weren't necessarily homophobic per say, but to be fair the conversation of you being gay never was a topic of conversation. But the idea of one day having to tell them terrified you, especially since you knew the relationship with your girlfriend was becoming serious.

“Y/n, what's wrong?” Paige asks, snapping you out of your thoughts as she stood up and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing.

You took a deep breath, looking up at your girlfriend with tears welled in your eyes managing to croak out , “I don't know Paige, I really need to tell my parents… I need to tell them about us. But I'm just afraid that they won't accept me, accept us. What if they kick me out? Disown me??”

Paige’s heart ached at the sudden fear that lingered in your voice,  as she pulled you into a warm, comforting hug, holding you tightly. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right by your side every step of the way. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that Paige would be there for you, and be by your side. “Okay,” you whispered, “Okay, let’s do this.”

A few days had passed since you had the conversation with your girlfriend, part of you wanted to procrastinate for as long as possible, because they would eventually find out regardless of when they were told. But your subconscious knew that now was the time, especially since you were serious about the blonde. You had to embrace the truth, your truth.

You and Paige drove over to your parents house one Friday evening, in the hopes of possibly sharing this important news over dinner. You were a bundle of nerves, but the blonde held your hand reassuringly as the two of you began to walk towards the front door. You took a pause, hesitating to ring the doorbell , after gathering your thoughts, you gently pressed on the round button in front of you, revealing a small chime in reply. You were soon greeted by your parents, who were surprised but happy to see them. 

“y/n, Paige, what brings you here?” your mother chirps. Hugging the both of you before inviting you two inside.

As you walked through your house, skimming past the dining room and making your way towards the living room, you plopped down on the couch before breaking the silence, “We have something we need to talk to you both about” your voice trembling slightly.

Once the rest of them had joined you on the couch and surrounding seats, you took a deep breath and began to speak again. “Mom, Dad, you know how I’ve known Paige since freshman year of highschool? And how we’ve spent a lot of time with each other since then..” the two of them nodded in response before you continued, “well.. I realized that I like her  more than a friend way. What I’m trying to say- I’m saying is that I’m with Paige. Like we’re dating..” your voice trailing off before facing them both in the eye, as your eyes had been previously wandering and focusing on different objects in the area. “Im gay.”

There was a brief moment of silence as your parents processed the information. You feared the absolute worst as the seconds of silence passed by, but then you mom spoke up, her voice filled with love and acceptance. “Sweetheart, we love you no matter what. We just want you to be happy.”

You couldn't hold back your tears as you hugged them both, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. Paige wrapped her arms around them all, feeling grateful to be a part of such a loving and accepting family.

After the initial shock wore off, your parents welcomed Paige with open arms, eager to get to know her now officially as their daughter's girlfriend. You all spent the evening talking and laughing, and you couldn't have felt more loved and accepted. 

As the night came to a close, and as the both of you drove back to the blondes dorm, you couldn't stop smiling. Your heart was full of love for Paige and your family, as you squeezed her hand as a way to silently say I love you.

“I love you, P,” you whispered quietly, your voice filled with emotion. “I love you too, y/n” Paige replied, squeezing your hand back gently. “I'm so proud of you.”

And in that moment, that's when you knew that no matter what challenges you both faced in the future, as long as you had your girlfriend by your side, you could handle anything.

as always, thank you guys so much for reading!! don't forget to leave reqs :)

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): nsfw, fluffy smut, wlw establish relationship, gf flo is the best (lol), r's anxious

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit smut, wlw sex, oral sex, slight praise kink i guess, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.6k

requested?: yes: "👉🏼👈🏼another one. uhhh twitchy shy gf who is either like biting her lips, picking her skin, vaping, or biting her nails and then Flo comes home and is like all cute and cozy and cuddly and sweet. then when all is well, she slowly and lovingly eats out her gf and praises her for no longer hurting herself and the gf just giggles bc like…her pussy being eaten literally." - 💦🍯 anon

note: I'm so sorry it took me soooo long, nonnie. But it's finally here, thank you so much for you request, I love your requests lol. Hope you all enjoy. Lots of love, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

Your leg was bouncing up and down, your teeth were biting your bottom lip, as your finger picked the skin around your nails. 

She noticed it, of course. Florence always knew when you were starting to feel anxious. So she grabbed your hand in between hers, rested her leg over yours, and brought her lips to yours. 

The movie playing on the tv was forgotten when she brought you toward her. “I don’t like it when you do that,” she confessed in between kisses, but there was no trace of anger in her tone, just worry. 

“When do I do what exactly?” you said breathlessly over her lips, clueless as to what she was referring to. 

“The picking and biting,” she said, as she lightly squeezed your hand. “I can understand the bouncing. But not the other two, I don't like you hurting yourself.”

“Flo, It’s nothing really,” you tried to shrug it off. 

“But it is, it is to me. It's nothing at first, but then you start to do it more often and then your fingertips and lips will be all bloody and I won’t like that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you shyly said. 

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” she left a soft kiss on your forehead. “I just… Promise me you will try to stop that habit, okay?”

“Okay,” you reassuringly smiled at her, promising to yourself to keep to your word.

[...]

You were currently on the couch, some relaxing and calming music playing as you worked on the proposal you had to hand in tomorrow morning. Your anxiety was creeping over and the stupid music did nothing to calm you down. But it wasn’t the music’s fault, it was completely yours. You were supposed to have it already done, but something came up then another, and now you were doing your best to finish it up before its deadline.

“Honey, I’m home,” you heard Florence singsang as she entered your shared home. 

“In here,” you answered her, your eyes not leaving the screen in front of you. 

“Hey, babes,” she said, as she let herself fall on the couch next to you, snuggling into your body, leaving a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Hey,” you smiled at her, you could already feel some of your anxiety washing away just by her closeness. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, the usual, nothing interesting,” she shrugged it off. “Hey, what are you up to?” she asked once she noticed how your fingertips were speed typing into your laptop. 

“It’s nothing, I just need to finish up this paper that's due tomorrow.”

“Oh, am I distracting you or something?”

“No, no. You’re fine,” you left a kiss on her forehead. “Just give me a second here, and then I’ll be all yours.”

“Okay,” Florence smiled to herself, watching as you typed some fancy and big words into a word document. 

It was then that she noticed your twitchy state: the bouncing leg was back again and she noticed your fingers were slightly trembling. Fortunately you weren’t biting your bottom lip and your fingertips’ skin wasn’t picked. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” still she was concerned, you were clearly anxious about this stupid paper. 

“Yeah, why?” you took a quick look at her and noticed she was staring at your hands. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you said, slightly closing your hand into a fist to stop them from shaking. “I just want to get it done,” you huffed. 

“You know, if it’s stressing you out so much, maybe you should get a break,” she said, resting her head on your shoulder. 

“And I will as soon as I’m done,” you breathed out, slightly bumping your head against hers. “I promise, we can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” half of your brain was concentrated on the words you were typing in but still her understone didn’t go unnoticed by you. 

You chuckled, “Yes, whatever you want.”

“Okay,” she said, leaving a quick kiss on your cheek. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“Will do,” you smiled at her as you watched her leave the room, a smirk on her face, which sent a shiver up your spine. 

You typed some more words into the document, deleted others, changed some into more fancy ones, rearranged the order of the paragraphs a few times and by the time the clock hit 9pm you were finally done with the goddamn thing. Lastly, you sent a copy of the document to your boss and once that was done you felt a weight had been lifted off from your shoulders.

You placed your now closed laptop on the coffee table, and went on your way to find Florence. 

“Flo?” you called her out from your bedroom door. “What are you doing in bed? Don’t you want to have something to eat? Aren’t you hungry?” you said, stepping in, plopping yourself down on the mattress. 

“You know I’ve been thinking…” she completely ignored your question as she crawled toward you. Her undertone and smirk didn’t go unnoticed by you. “You’ve been doing so good not picking your skin or biting your lip,” you could feel her hot breath on your lips. “I think you deserve a reward,” she quickly kissed the corner of your lips sending shivers up your spine. 

“What kind of reward?” she didn’t even kiss you and you were already breathless, just her closeness was enough for your brain to malfunction. 

“Well…,” she cupped your cheeks. “I was thinking…” she brought her lips to yours, kissing them slowly, making your stomach tightened into a knot. “I am hungry… you said it yourself…” her lips moved down to your jaw. 

“What are you hungry for?” it almost came out as a whimper. 

“You,” she said, muttered by your skin as she got on top of you. 

 A curse slipped past your lips as she rocked her hips against yours. Your hands flew to her waist, squeezing and pressing her even closer to you, making her moan as she kissed and sucked on your collarbone. 

You didn’t realise how or when, due to your brain being all foggy because of her entire being, but a second later, or so you thought, the two of you were stripped out of your clothes. She was still on top of you, kissing every inch of your body as if she was worshipping you. 

Everytime she would kiss a new area, she would move further down your body, getting dangerously close to your core. She was teasing you obviously, she knew you were already too goddamn wet for her fingers or strap to easily get past inside you. But she wanted for her lips and tongue to have their way with you. 

The closer she got to your burning throbbing cunt, the more your legs would twitch, the more you would hiss, and the more you would squirm under her. The whole thing only encouraged her even more to do with you as she pleased. 

“Stop with the teasing… please,” you blurted out breathlessly. 

And without any warning whatsoever, she buried her mouth, chin and nose into you. A low ‘fuck’ slipped out of your lips followed by her name and a gasp at the sudden contact. Your hand flew to the back of her head, tugging her hair in a makeshift ponytail, getting all of it out of the way so you could see her properly as she ate you out. 

Her eyes were closed, deep in concentration, as you moaned and whimpered. The picture only added more to your arousal and the knot forming in your stomach would only get tighter as her tongue slipped in and out of you and her nose brushed against your clit. 

“Holy fuck,” she took it as a sign for her to pushed her finger inside of you. 

Your cunt sucked in her finger so easily that she knew you could take a second one, maybe even a third one. And so she did, she took out the single finger and pushed two inside you, and once she knew you were ready, two fingers became three. 

“Oh, God!” you said as you heard the room being filled by the sound of her sloppy finger thrusting in and out of you as her lips mercilessly sucked on your clit. 

“Not God, honey,” she playfully muttered against your core. 

“Shut the fuck—,” you were cut off by a loud moan. “Flo, I’m close… I’m so close,” it came out as a cry as the knot in your stomach felt so tight that any second now would snap. 

“Come, baby,” her words were muffled. “Be a good girl and come.”

And you wanted to be that good girl she deserved, the good girl she loved, the good girl she knew you were, so you did. With a loud cry, followed by a cursed and mumbling her name over and over again, you came in her mouth as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as your hand brought her head closer to you if it was possible, as you almost strangled her with your leg wrapping around her head. 

“There you go,” she said as her tongue helped you ride out your high and as she made sure to suck in every single drop of your sweet juices. 

Your whole body went limp as she sucked the very last drop of your cum. And when she was done, her lips met yours, making you have a taste of yourself. 

“So good to me…” she whispered over your lips. “My good girl did so good,” she said, as she placed a sweet kiss on your forehead and watched a shade of red creeping on your cheeks as you giggled. 

She felt her heart melting, she had just eaten you out and now you were blushing and giggling just by a few words. Oh, how lucky she was. You were in fact her good girl, and the thought brought a smile to her face.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[ashessonfire]

Okay so I have a fic idea and I’m a bit obsessed with it so hope you like it too!!

I was imagining that the reader is part of the crows and they do a job where the reader and Jesper get cursed or poisoned where they just stay in a coma like state.

The crows try everything to wake them up but nothing works and one day Wylan kisses Jesper and Jesper wakes up so they realise the cure is TRUE LOVES KISS!

Kaz is obviously in denial about his feelings and thinks the reader can’t possibly love him back so he doesn’t even try and the other crows start getting really mad at him and basically force him to kiss the reader and she obviously wakes up too!

I was thinking lots of angst and worrying and pining before the kiss because I love pain haha

I would absolutely love you forever as ever if you could write this! ❤️

'Fairytale' - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Prompt: Kaz sends you and Jesper on a heist, which results in the pair on the brink of death. Can Kaz face his trauma and save the person he loves most? - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader (pre-relationship) - Warnings: Mentions of asphyxiation (gas poison like season 2), Jesper and reader fall into a coma like state, descriptions of Kaz's trauma, nothing too graphic i dont think?? Angst, angst, angst

A/N: Anon i just have to say i love you, this request is EVERYTHING. Its a long one but i just couldn't stop writing! Please keep requests coming, you guys have incredible ideas!!! P.S Thank you all for 5000 notes already &lt;3

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The second the words ‘Jesper’ and ‘Y/N’ coincided with the word ‘heist’, fits of laughter and screeches of excitement escaped the pair in question. It was rare that the friends could spend a mission entirely alone, obviously working diligently, but stopping by for drinks afterwards, unbeknownst to their boss.

Kaz rolled his eyes, fixing a dull look at the two, lip curling up in what may have appeared to be disgust. However, you caught the playful glint in his eye, just illuminated by the club’s oil lanterns for you to notice. Giving the pair of you the meticulously laid out plan, Kaz offered a tight nod before watching you disappear into the crowd of pigeons, and out into the cool breeze infiltrating Ketterdam’s night air.  

A pair of eyes lingered on your back, until you were far enough away that the raucous customers drowned out your angelic laugh, riding high above the crowd and penetrating the heart of the man you had just turned from. Clutching his cane fiercely, Kaz pushed all thoughts of you aside, burying deep the anxiety rising into his throat, and limping swiftly back up to his office.

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“Come on Y/N, we’re early anyway. Surely a tiny drink won’t hurt, I mean Kaz isn’t,” Jesper started playfully, but you cut him off with a look that could only be replicated with enough study of your boss’s face.

Jesper burst out laughing, infecting your chest with bubbles of joy, bursting out of you in a fit of giggles which set your partner off further. “Sorry Jes, Kaz’s orders. Plus, the sooner this is over, the more we can drink later,” you replied, your voice weakening at the end of the phrase as you suppressed a further attack of laughter.

Once the pair had battled through the biting conditions, gusts of wind cutting at their exposed skin like needles, the heist had run smoothly. Jesper successfully distracted the guards outside the small outlet, resorting to booming gunfire when even his charm had displayed no effect. You dissolved into the shadows, slipping through the doorway to the room that Kaz had suggested held the jewel, something, you supposed, worth far more than its underwhelmingly ragged appearance displayed.

The sound of guns clicking against their holsters alerted you, a shiver of anticipation creeping up your spine, however it dissipated as quickly as it came, once an outline of a ridiculously tall hat appeared on the floorboards. Within moments, Jesper joined you at the entrance of the room, eyes alight with adrenaline, practically buzzing next to you as his body twitched from the excitement of using his guns.

“Right then, lets go get this thing,” Jesper stated dramatically before striding forward with determined steps. Yet the strangled warning and the missed grasp on his wrist came too late, as a floorboard shifted under the sharp-shooter’s weight, concealing the entrance and your only chance of escape.

A soft light emanated from a half-burnt candle on the other side of the cage they now stood in, yet it was enough to catch a flash of regret seize Jesper’s face as he turned towards you.

“Uhmm, I’m guessing that wasn’t supposed to happen, right?” Jesper said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the trap he had triggered. A sigh escaped you, the previous joy from the early evening seeping from you fast, replaced with ice flooding your veins, heart hammering savagely against your chest. As you formulated a response to both calm you down, and relieve Jesper, a hissing sound disrupted the thickening silence.

The sound multiplied, surrounding the pair as they frantically searched for the source of the noise, like as snake threatening its victim before injecting its most lethal venom into its prey. Before the analogy of the snake could panic you further, something caught your eye, forcing you to strain your sight to make out the red shape slithering around on the floorboards. The candle flickered and dimmed, leaving the lightest of red glistens to illuminate the room.

“Jesper,” you choked out, finally comprehending what shape inching towards you was. Yet there was no need for a reply, as a sharp scent infiltrated your nostrils, forcing you to cough violently as the smoke burned your lungs, ripping apart your flesh from the inside out.

Jesper was forcing your name through his lips as he staggered towards you, gripping you tightly in his embrace as his lungs constricted. The pair crashed to the floor as each limb felt severed from the rest, the flickering candle now smothered by the red smoke.

Black filled both crow’s visions, as the gloom consumed them, relieving the burning sensation as their lungs gave out.

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There were truly very few things that could render Kaz Brekker speechless, however the sight of his two closest companions lying lifeless and frigid had utterly shattered him. Inej had shadowed the pair on their mission, under the command of their boss. “Just in case,” he had said to the wraith, but it was evident to her that he was simply worried for the both of you.

The crash of the city clock startled Inej into panic, leading her to the room where she discovered the pair, limbs tangled together and Jesper’s arms encircling your frame.

Dragging both of your limp bodies to a dreg’s owned carriage, Inej rushed you back to the slat, praying frantically to every Saint she could think of. The only sense of relief keeping her sane was the faint breaths emitting from you occasionally.

Now, you were both encased in warmth, the thickest blankets the crows could locate wrapping you up as you laid unmoving on makeshift beds in Kaz’s office. Nina insisted on you being together, allowing her to monitor your heart rates efficiently, the dread that your breathing could cease momentarily consuming the crows.

Wylan sat unmoving from Jesper’s side, constantly tending to him, bringing cool cloths to reduce his fever, or forcing sips of water down his throat, anxiety ripping into him each time he was made to leave.

The boy sat curled up next to his boyfriend, barely speaking apart from breathy rasps of thanks to Nina and Inej for food, or the occasional whispers to Jesper. It was unmistakeable from the minute Inej revealed your unconscious bodies that you had been poisoned, thrusting you into a border between life and death.

Kaz’s reaction differed vastly from the rest of his crows, his initial thoughts not moving to sadness, or worry for your conditions. All he could see was Jordie’s dead body, frigid and ashen, the feel of his clammy skin slipping underneath the fingertips of the younger Rietveld brother. The waves signalled no warning, violently crushing the air from Kaz’s lungs, forcing him to stagger blindly out into the alley behind the slat.

From that moment onwards, Kaz refused to see you. Not out of spite, or callousness, but simply because he couldn’t face it. Perhaps if it were only Jesper, he could summon the courage to venture into his office, maybe even remain for longer than a minute. But you?

It would kill him to see you in that sate again.

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Sleep drastically evaded Kaz, the lack of your warm presence during the early hours caused the bastard’s mind to saturate his thoughts with every shade of terror.

Images of your lifeless body crossed over with his brother’s, the picture burning into his eyelids each time he closed his eyes. Since that night, almost a week ago by now, Kaz had not slept more than an hour at a time, and his presence had not been noted once by any of the other crows.

They tried desperately to construct a solution to the venom flowing through your veins, trying the most expensive of doctors, a team of Grisha healers, even antidotes concocted in the slat’s kitchen, yet nothing woke you. Each day unnerved the crows further, the chilling stillness of your bodies showing no sign of regeneration. The lack of activity settling a deeply rooted static into the crows lives.

That was, until Inej burst into his office to break to him the news.

Snatching his cane, Kaz bolted past her, forcefully striking the floor with each heavy step he took as he ascended the stairs. Crashing through the door, Kaz swiftly wove his way past your bed, eyes locked only on Jesper, the sight of your body in his nightmares plaguing him so torturously that he could not bear to even glance at you. As he shouldered past a gaping Nina, the sight before him confirmed the heart-wrenching cries from Wylan, the boy sobbing uncontrollably, his fists grasping at the material on his partners shirt.

Kaz’s gaze lifted to his crow’s eyes, his heart hammering in his ears when a mischievous pair glinted back at him, a weak but lopsided grin painted onto the sharpshooter’s face at the evident concern seizing Kaz’s features. The relief was short lived however, as his veins froze over, the stillness of your body flooding his mind once again with overwhelming anxiety.

“How,” was all Kaz could breathe out, voice low and throaty as emotion took hold of him.

“Whilst Inej and I were downstairs fetching new sheets for them, Wylan stayed up here. He decided at some point he needed some air, so he gave Jesper a kiss before going. But it seemed to have woken him up, and, well, here he is?” Nina offered, the weeps still wracking Wylan, words unable to creep out through the tears that submerged him.

The information buzzed through the air, sinking slowly into Kaz’s consciousness, before his heart plummeted.

The expectant gazes of the others stabbed at him, each knowing glance wrenching at his heart.

What were they all looking at? Surely, they didn’t expect him to be the one to save you?  What sort of fool would reciprocate feelings for the ‘bastard of the barrel’? Thousands of questions swarmed Kaz, constricting his lungs once more, as he exited the room as quickly as he had entered.

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Days had passed without a single interaction between the crows and their boss, no matter the begging they resorted to outside his door. Each sob, scream, or plead was met with a resounding silence, resulting in a chilling slash to their resolve.

Reality had escaped Kaz, his conscious and unconscious hours blurring into one, the chill of Ketterdam infiltrating his body, worsening the horrors that taunted him. Everything he touched became the decaying of rotting flesh, each shadow a haunting figure bearing either yours or his brothers features. At some points, Kaz could muster the strength to imagine something else, something he had pictured frequently even before the mission had failed.

Your eyes glowing from the gentle moonlight glistening through the window, lips slightly parted as your breath quickens at the proximity. Warmth enveloping the pair of you as Kaz reaches down to caress your cheeks, the heat radiating from them enough to seep through his gloves.

He leans into you, the waves calming at your presence, receding until they gently lapped at his feet. Your lips meet and streams of love radiate between the two of you, creating the only peace Kaz has felt since the fire-pox had plagued the city and stolen his family from him.

However, each vision of you was cut short just as he was finally kissing you, your eyes would gloss over, and your lifeless body would be pressed directly against his. Panic attacks always ensued, but Kaz was unsure of how long this could continue for. His body was weakening with lack of use, bones weighing him down with every movement.

By now the others were gathering downstairs to eat dinner, the sound of Jesper’s laugh signaling his recovery was flowing smoothly. Before his mind could register his bodies actions, he hauled himself up, grabbed his cane, and discreetly made his way up to his office.

To see you.

Every nerve in his body set alight at the sight of you, frozen in time as your chest barely rose with each shallow breath. Yet Kaz pushed through the terror threatening to root him to the floor, forcing himself to pull a chair close to you, knuckles whitening as he clutched his cane to ground himself.

When you didn’t start morphing into Jordie, his mind declared that it was safe enough to remain where he was, albeit on the very edge of his seat, waves smashing into his chest with each breath.

In order to stay with you, he needed to focus on the signs that you were at least somewhat there. Scanning your body, he fixated on the whisps of air escaping your parted lips, the rise and fall of the blankets which engulfed you, the tint on your cheeks from the fire glowing nearby.

You were alive, and it was enough reason for Kaz to stay.

For a long while, he sat silently, an undecipherable gaze glued to your form, thoughts racing through his mind but his body frozen. It was evident enough that the crows thought he could be the one to wake you up, in the same way Wylan had done for Jesper. The thought alone made Kaz outwardly scoff, not only was the idea of a ‘fairy-tale’ kiss as the sole remedy absurd, but the fact they believed you could love him enough for it to work.

Yes, you spent hours helping him through mountains of paperwork, bringing him sustenance when forgets to eat, clearing up his room when he is too engrossed in his work to notice, or even keeping him company with a book so he can rest peacefully. But you were kind, too kind for the Barrels harsh realities he thought, although it only rarely stole your spark. Your extra care for Kaz was likely due to concern, how could it be out of anything like love?

The evening drew closer, light fading as twilight enshrouded the city, the chatter from downstairs becoming quieter as the group parted ways to rest. Knowing his time was running out, Kaz Brekker did something he never thought he could.

Kaz Brekker lent down and kissed you.

Immediately sparks ignited within him, lighting him on fire in a way he had never experienced before, however the flames were extinguished quickly, as the freezing waves crashed against him.

They rose exceedingly swiftly, signaling him to retreat into his isolation, awkwardly stumbling out of the office and slamming the door to his room, body shaking violently at the action he had accomplished.

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The moment the door to his office shut, your eyes fluttered open, light scorching them from lack of use, head throbbing but the sensation of being conscious offering you some relief. Your lips tingled, a phantom feeling of something brushing against them consuming your thoughts.

Although you were slipping from the waking world constantly, the sight of your weeping friends and their grateful smiles in the intervals where you awoke granted you enough strength to recover quickly.

One face was unsurprisingly absent throughout your healing, the cold façade of the boss only gracing you once the others were gone, keeping you company in a strange but not unwelcomed silence. With each day you regained your radiant energy, even walking short distances with the aid of Kaz’s cane.

Once you had fully returned, you grew curious as to how you had awoken, startled at the revelation that Wylan saved Jesper with his love. There was no way the person you held affections for would ever do the same.

Could he?

Throwing a sly grin towards you, Nina stated, “Well we don’t truly know what brought you back, but I did catch a certain gang leader looking ever so shaky as he fled from the room. It just so happened that when I saw you next you were awake. What an odd thing,” using a dramatically exasperated tone, the mischievous spark in her eye confirming your suspicions.

Turning every shade of red, you buried your face in your hands, only peeking out from a small gap between your fingers. Just as a compass finds its bearings, your gaze gravitated straight towards Kaz.

As you peered up, you noticed he was positioned directly opposite on the far side of the Crow club, noting the pink tint that dusted his cheeks, just illuminated enough for you to catch. His gaze was unreadable but uncommonly gentle, and moments passed before you recognised what he was staring at.

He was fixated on you

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Kaz Brekker taglist: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ell0ra-br3kk3r @swhisperer @sleepynightchild @atlasiiae @kaiinohh @sannunah28 @at-the-chateau @withbeautyandragendrage @animalistic00 @whos6claire @any-corrie (please comment if you would like to be added to the Kaz Brekker taglist)

[sturniolos-blog]

Panic Attack - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n oneshot

warnings - kissing, fluff, panic attack

requested by anon ‼️

—————————

6:37pm

I was laying down in my house, watching the triplets new video before my phone rang, it was nick.

“Hey nick! What’s up?” I said cheery into the phone.

“Y/n, you need to come here now, Matt’s been in a bad mood all day and he keeps telling us to fuck off.” Nick says, i sit up already starting to get ready.

“Where is he right now, nick?” I asked.

“In his room, he’s being an ass and you better get over here before i smack the sense back into him.” Nick scoffs.

I let out a laugh, “I’m on my way.” I then hang up the phone.

———————————

6:43pm

I walked into their house after Nick called me.

I start to hear some yelling,

“Well why don’t you fucking leave me alone!?” I hear come from Matt.

“You’re being a complete asshole!” I start to walk towards the voices, it sounds like chris.

“Yeah, Matt the fucks your problem dude?” I hear Nick chime in.

“You guys all need to fuck off-”

“Matt?” I said, they were all in the living room, yelling at each other.

Matt sighs and runs his hand through his hair, “What are you doing here?” He says, his voice lower now.

Nick clears his throat, “I called her.” He says, looking down.

Chris’s face is red with anger. “Yeah, you need her to fucking relax.” He says.

Matt shoved Chris harshly.

“Matt!” I yelled, going in between them as Chris shoved Matt back.

“Stop! The fuck is wrong with you guys!?” I scolded, Matt scoffing and running to his room.

“Seriously?” I sighed to chris.

“Sorry..” He whispered.

“I got him.” Nick adds in, sitting down on the couch with chris now.

I nodded and walked to Matt’s room, walking in without knocking.

“Get the fuck out.” Matt snaps, he was sitting on his bed his face in his hand.

I shut the door, “Okay you can sit here and pout but you are not going to disrespect me and treat me how you just treated your family. Sorry but that’s not happening.” I said, sitting down on the bed.

Matt stays silent.

“Talk to me, baby..” I sighed, putting my hand on his back.

He shooks his head and took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Okay, we can sit in silence.” I made myself comfortable against his head bored, my legs straight out. “Or…you can come here and give me a hug.” I said, arms out for him.

Matts head turned and looked at me before turning back and looking at his hands, fiddling with them.

“I know you wanna..” I urged, my hand tugging on his shoulder.

He let out one of his anxiety breaths and climbed on top of me, his head going on my chest and his body in between my legs, one of my hands went through his hair while the other rubbed his back.

“Oh baby..” I whisper.

“Everything’s been so hard and overwhelming lately, i feel like i’m not enough and that i should be doing more like in videos because everyone flames me for not talkin’ so much but i just have no motivation and i can’t-” Matt’s breaths pick up.

“You can’t what, baby?” I ask him as he sits up, sitting next to me, resting his back against the headboard.

He puts his hand on his chest, his breathing a lot quicker.

“Matt?” I ask him, my hand going to his cheek.

“I can’t- i can’t-” He struggles, “I can’t breathe.” He breathes out, huffing and puffing. Hot tears now streaming down his face.

“Why can’t i breathe? It hurts, everything’s blurry.” He began to list out,

“You’re stressing yourself out, baby. Stop, okay.” I began to freak out myself, my hand rubbing his back.

“Uh- so today before nick called me, i was watching your new video that came out yesterday. You looked um- so so good.” I laughed, Matt’s breaths weren’t slowing down but he looked at me.

“You’re right, you don’t talk a lot but you bring a lot to the table when you do, and it’s okay you sit there with your pretty face, looking incredibly fine.” I tease, Matt lets out a breathy laugh.

“But you’re more than enough Matt, and you need to stop bottling that all up and taking it out on other people, especially the ones you love because Chris didn’t mean anything he said, he loves you so much and he wants the best for you, but his anger is fast like yours. As well as nicks. So whatever happened in the argument can just be labeled as an ‘in the moment’ thing.” I said softly.

Matt nodded, “Thank you.” He sniffled, “Sorry for being a big baby.” He apologized.

“Don’t apologize, now come here pretty boy, i missed you.” I put my arms out for him, he laughs and gives me a big hug, kissing all over my face as i laugh.

“Say that again.” He said into my neck.

“What?” I laughed.

“Say that again.” He repeated, his soft kisses going to my collarbone.

“say what? pretty boy?” I teased.

“God, that’s hot.” He groaned against me.

“Yeah, you like it pretty boy?” I laughed as he nodded and kissed my lips.

—————————

that was it! hope the anon who requested liked it! enjoyyy ! and mixed signals part two coming whennn ? (i actually have no clue i haven’t started it)

[fadingdaggerr]

Hii!! I hope you've had a great day!!

So, I had this idea and I can't stop thinking about it, it's like rotating in my brain like a Rotisserie Chicken. IDK if you're still taking requests but I just had to send this.

Anyway, Melissa and reader are in someone else's house (R parents or idk some kind of sleepover with the teachers) and for some reason they can't sleep together in the same bed/room, like they're used to, which is concerning R because Melissa doesn't really sleep well alone.

But Mel tries to ease R saying she'll be just fine for one night, and very reluctantly R agrees.

Well, it turns out she can't. R and obviously a few others in the house wake up to Melissa's screaming in the middle of the night and R runs to her, shes is sobbing, shaking and clutching R for dearlife, just absolutely terrified and not even letting R move. R calm her down and take care of her, like with a lot of fluff and comfort.

I'm just obsessed with R taking care of Mel and being really sweet.

Yeah that's it. I love your stories, they are really really good. And I could only think of you when this thing came out of my brain.

+ I absolutely loved what you did in "Know I'm Alive", I was kicking my feet and internally screaming. (I sent that anon 👉👈) So thanks, I enjoyed it a lot, like a lot a lot, like, if I could I would eat that it.

You're really talented!! <3

by the sun, by the moon

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.8k

includes: no pronoun use for r, fluff, hurt/comfort, family play fights/sibling banter, r’s family adores mel, probably ooc!mel oops

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic (short), attempted violence (short), mentions/insinuations of sex, one outdated traditional value, sleep difficulties/nightmares, anxiety/panic attack

note: please feel free to skip the section that discusses the unhealthy relationship dynamic/violence. it begins after the first section divide with the line “for her entire childhood…” those topics are only explicitly stated there and only referenced one other time. please do not feel as tho you need to read triggering material to understand the story, i tried to make it understandable without having to read potentially distressing content :)

Melissa’s head tips back when she hears you coming back downstairs, having been waiting for you since your mom called during The Real Housewives time. The way you’re watching your feet with furrowed brows makes her fully turn until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back to get closer to you.

“Something wrong?” Melissa asks, reaching to grab your hand to pull you closer.

You shake your head, “no, no.” Warm hands rise to cradle the redhead’s face, “how would you feel about spending the night at my parents place Saturday? They’re hosting Jonah’s birthday, wanted our help to set up the night before.”

Her eyes widen, “just Saturday night?”

“Just Saturday,” you reaffirm, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She cautiously nods, barely moving. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know, I know,” she says through her breath, “we’ll stay the night.” The kiss you press to her forehead feels heavier than just a silent thank you.

—☽—

For her entire childhood and through her marriage, Melissa slept like a rock. She slept through Kristen Marie’s and Joe’s snoring, her college girlfriend’s sleep talking, her parents having a screaming match so loud the cops got called. Before starting teaching, she even had to train herself to wake up at the sound of her alarm, knowing that being late to the school was ten times worse than being late to JC Penney.

Two years after she finally left Joe, Melissa met Eric.

Tall, charming, nice-smelling Eric with his salt-and-pepper beard always tidy, a covered up Marine tattoo on his forearm. He’d bought her drink after his friend accidentally knocked hers off the counter of the bar, and two hookups later, she was agreeing to a real date. Three months later, she was his girlfriend and allowed him into her apartment. He got to know where the spare key was hidden after a year.

Eric was everything Joe was not. During arguments, Joe would shut down and leave, only returning when he smells like cheap liquor and some other woman’s perfume. Eric always stayed, told her his point of view, listened to hers, calmly told her when she was overreacting. He was smooth, never raised a hand towards her or threw things at the walls. Melissa always knew when she was in the wrong, but he never made her feel bad about it.

Eric was particular. He liked his shirts folded a certain way, beer only from a glass, and silence when he worked. If she was excited about anything, he only ever allowed her to speak about it until he’d lost interest, almost always by the time she paused to take a breath. When he properly introduced her to his friends, his hand on her knee would tighten when she spoke. Quickly, she learned that the tighter the grip, the less she should speak. Four hours at some sports bar and Melissa had only been able to say a total of six sentences. Eric liked Melissa quiet. Melissa became quiet.

He started to prod about meeting her family, and she shut him down. Again and again. The fourth time, he banged his fist against the table, the end of his fork creating a small dent. Green eyes fixated on the dent as he began to calmly explain that he had introduced her to his family, it was her turn. Mumbling those were your buddies got her stuck on her own couch that night, clutching the blanket Nana made her before she started college.

Two months later, she began to slowly bring back Eric’s clothing to his apartment on the off-chance they went there for a night. Grading her student’s assignments began to take longer and she triple-checked the scores to waste more time, suddenly too tired to have sex or even talk before going to sleep. Otherwise, she listened to his rules, spoke when spoken to, cooked when asked.

The morning he narrowly avoided calling her a moron to her face when she made the eggs over-medium instead over-easy, she officially made her choice. That night, at the Italian restaurant he brought her to, she called it off.

“Why?” Eric asked, eyes stone, unwavering from hers.

She took a deep breath, “you treat me like a pet. Speak when spoken to, move when told, I’m sick of it.” Her grip on the table cloth tightened, “tomorrow, I will put your stuff outside. You’ll pick it up when I tell you to, and then you will leave.”

He sits back in his chair, tongue poking at his bottom lip, “and if I don’t want to break up?”

“Too bad,” she shrugs. Standing from the table, Melissa leaves him with the check and the sad excuse of Italian cuisine on the table.

At work the next day, it takes all morning, lunch, and prep to fully debrief Barbara on everything that had been going on. It made sense to the kindergarten teacher why she had yet to meet this Eric fella, but after hearing this, she knew Melissa wasn’t proud of getting herself in this situation. A promise of a wine weekend and greasy food makes Melissa truly smile. Barbara hadn’t realized how fake every little grin had been until now, she missed her best friend.

That afternoon, Melissa came home to the loose brick that hid her spare key ajar. The blood in her veins runs cold. Opening the unlocked door, glass scratches across the wooden floor, crunching under her heels. Every picture frame, the television, the radio, the coffee table, the stovetop, the tea set from her grandfather, all smashed to pieces. Holes were in nearly every wall, the stair railing broken. The entire first floor was destroyed, only upstairs was left pristine, as if nothing had happened at all. Bat in hand, she checks every closet, under her bed, in the bathtub, everywhere. He was gone.

Leaning against the wall, she slides down and sobs. Melissa is forced to make a choice she didn’t want to make. Opening her phone, she calls Joe.

Joe, despite everything he had done, was at Melissa’s house within the hour. In one hand he held a bag from the hardware store, containing new locks and keys, the other hand had his very own bat, nails pounded through the wood. Like he said when they signed the papers, just because he wasn’t in love with her, doesn’t mean he didn’t care.

Three weeks later, after things had settled and locks were changed, Melissa felt more secure. Still every night, she woke at every sound, wind and the smoke detector quickly became her mortal enemies. Bundled in her soft pajamas and thick comforter one night, she finally fell into a hard, deep sleep forced from pure exhaustion.

Paperclips, a screwdriver, and a small sheet of flexible metal are all someone needs to pick a lock and shift the deadbolt. Eric surely knew that, always the smart man, yet never the brightest. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, bourbon fueling his motions as well as his heavy steps.

A particularly loud thunk wakes Melissa, hand flying under her pillow to the bat Joe had made her promise to keep there. Another thump made her jump out of bed and to the side of her dresser with an iron grip around Edith Houghton. When her door opened, she stayed pressed into the corner, hoping she stayed hidden just long enough for him to leave so she could grab her phone.

Liquor breeds stupidity, worsens it when it is already present, and Eric had left to check the bathroom. Quickly, Melissa called the police, shakily texting Joe as she whispered to the operator. At that point, she didn’t care who got there first. She just wanted to be free of him.

She moved to a new apartment before the month even ended. Barbara insisted on cameras, which Gerald installed. Joe insisted on a nailed up bat, which he made himself. Not a night has gone by since then where she didn’t have it within arms reach of the bed.

It took six years for her to sleep again.

—☽—

The light tracing of nonsensical patterns on her abdomen is what wakes Melissa, eyes cracking open to the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She wishes now, more than ever, that she had agreed to the blackout curtains, groaning into her pillow. With the knowledge she’s now awake, several soft kisses press against her shoulder, traveling to her neck. With a sleepy grin on her face, Melissa turns to face you.

“Morning,'' you mumble against her lips, hand traveling up to her hair to separate the knots that you created. “Sleep good?”

The only response you get is a little huff that almost sounds like yeah, her face burying in your neck to hide from the light. You lay there with her, finishing your detangling mission as Melissa’s nails trace up and down your arm. A final, sound kiss lands on the crown of her head before you shuffle out from underneath her, reaching for your previous discarded university shirt and sweatpants. The redhead watches through droopy eyes, scanning over you before your pajamas cover everything she adores.

“Gotta get up, beautiful,” you say through a yawn as you walk out the room, “we need to be leaving for one.” A tiny groan escapes her lips as she rises from the bed, though a small smile crosses her lips when she sees your sweatshirt thrown over the chair in the corner, just waiting for her.

Not even halfway down the stairs, there’s a clatter from the kitchen and a quiet exclamation of fuck. “You’re not even awake and you want me up,” Melissa says as she walks to the coffee maker. She’s met with a small slap on her ass in return, not even caring to be embarrassed of the girlish giggle she lets out.

Whose fault it is that you’re late leaving, who could tell? Between the forgoing packing and wrapping your cousin’s present last night for a taste of Melissa and her lack of pants this morning, it’s hard to say. Nothing that going a gentle twenty over on the highway can’t mend.

Driving up the dirt road, the dense trees thinned and your parent’s yellow house came into view. Your father’s questionably functional truck sits in the front of the garage, your mom and brother’s cars parked close together on the lawn. Seeing the way your hands tighten on the steering wheel, Melissa slides her hand from your elbow to the free hand on your thigh, playing with your rings to calm you. Being at your parents house was always overwhelming, fun, but overwhelming.

Narrowly avoiding scraping the side, you pull in next to your brother’s car. Looking at each other, you and Melissa give each other a nod of we got this. She’d been over here before, she’d been to three family reunions and almost every birthday party, but never had you two stayed the night, always being some of first to leave to sleep in your own bed.

With a little grunt, you hop out of the car and jog to Melissa’s side to open her door. She gives you a half glare when you tap her hand away from helping carry the bags in, you never let her lift a finger, if you can help it.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

Both you and Melissa jump at your mother’s yell from the porch, bangles clanking together as she widely waves to the both of you. Gravel crunches under her feet as she rushes over to the two of you, immediately pulling Melissa into a hug. Before you were banned from saying it, you used to joke that your parents preferred your girlfriend to their own child. The giant smile on Melissa’s face when she interacts with your family makes it worth it.

Tumbling upstairs, you bring your bags into your childhood bedroom with Melissa close behind. Even with every time she had been here, she loved being in your room. It was a time capsule of your life before college, all the posters of bands and movies still hanging on the walls, trinkets covering every space. She particularly loved the little collection of rocks on your bookshelf, clearly in order from favorite to least favorite.

The bed bobs as you both drop onto the mattress, groaning at the comfort after three hours in the car. You turn your face towards her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder, “I love you.”

Melissa leans in closer, “I love you, too.” She watches your eyes flick to her lips, beating you to the chase and pressing her lips to yours softly. It takes every ounce of effort to not moan at your tongue tracing her lip, her hand coming up to grip your shirt and keep you close. Stomping up the stairs makes you both jump apart, feeling like teenagers getting caught, not that the room was helping.

The door opens to show your dad, boots trekking in dirt that will inevitably get him in trouble with your mom. The hand not on the doorknob is over his eyes, “you two better be decent. Ma has lunch ready downstairs and clothing is probably mandatory.”

“Knock it off,” you mumble as you shuffle towards him so he can give your head a gentle noogie. Neither of you were big on hugs, only really being physically affectionate with your partners, but the love is always clear in every fistbump and hand on your shoulder.

You and Melissa trail behind your father as he goes to the kitchen, both fighting laughs after nearly getting caught by your dad. However, the second your mom peers over at the two of you, you both act like you had been silent the whole time, eyes flicking around in feigned innocence.

Lunch is a mismatch of all the foods your mom made for the birthday party the next day, making you all be her taste testers, even if she only really wants Melissa’s opinion as the other cook in the family. Pasta salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, shortcake, even some chicken with her new lemon pepper recipe. You and your brother fight over who gets first dibs on the pasta salad, ending with his wife taking the serving spoon from your hands and grabbing some for herself.

“Act your age,” Kennedy says to her husband, making you laugh, before she gives you a sharp glance, “that goes for you, too.” Melissa turns away to unsuccessfully hide her own laugh from you.

Lunch ends with your mom and your brother arguing over another serving of macaroni, “we need food for tomorrow! Fuck’s sake, Marcus.”

—☽—

Your father divides everyone into groups to set up the backyard. Your mother takes Melissa and Kennedy to help set up the tables and lights, forcing you and Marcus to help your father with the tent, bonfire pit, and yardgames.

Getting all the yardgames for the little cousins was the easy part, even if it took a while because the three of you had to play a game of cornhole before you could do anything else. None of you got a single one in after two turns, making you all set into defeat, the game was agreed between the three of you to be stupid now. With your father taking a break now, getting the tent together was a doomed venture with you and Marcus.

“If you don’t let me hold it up, it’s gonna keep falling.”

“Fuck off! No, it won’t,” Marcus says with confidence, trying to stand the tent all at once before securing it. Four had already fallen, and a job that should only take twenty minutes was taking nearly an hour.

“How is it gonna stay up if nothing’s holding it, huh? Thought you knew everything?” He flips you off and doesn’t answer, continuing putting the spike in the ground, though without the other end being held up, the weight pulls it down again. Giving up, you walk away and attempt to find your dad for something else to do. You stop in your tracks, just step from the patio.

Watching Melissa with your family always makes butterflies erupt in your chest. She used to be so nervous around them, uncharacteristically quiet and meek, but now she’s almost as carefree with them as she is with her own. The sunlight makes her hair shine, and it’s damn near impossible to look away. It seems you’re of similar mind, her head turning towards you, fighting a grin when she sees the dopey grin on your face.

You almost start to walk towards her, but a strong hand pulls you back. Your dad pushes the hatchet into your hands, “you’re on firewood duty.”

“Bu-”

“Nope, you’re not slinking off to your girl. Go chop the wood, Casanova,” he says as he walks back to help Marcus with the tent.

It’s hours before you even get a chance to see Melissa again, as if your parents were keeping you apart. Which they were, knowing that you’d ignore everything you had to do if it meant you got to just look at Melissa. By the time you got back inside, the button up you’d been wearing was abandoned on a lawn chair and you were out of breath. How much firewood does one bonfire even need?

Walking in the backdoor into the kitchen, Melissa is leaning against the counter, her eye on the mixer filled with what will be cheesecake going to your tanktop clad form as she chats with Kennedy. Creeping up beside her, you wrap an arm around her waist and press a lingering kiss to her cheek, mumbling a greeting into her skin before trudging upstairs to shower the sweat and dirt off.

—☽—

By the end of the night, everyone is half-awake and struggling to keep their eyes open as a TV movie drones on. Neither you or Melissa are paying attention, too wrapped up in one another in the arm chair. Legs dangling over the arm, Melissa is seated on your lap, head tucked into your shoulder as you mindlessly play with her hair. The hand on the back of your neck stops its soft ministrations, her breathing slowing as she fights falling asleep.

You speak quietly for only her to hear, “you ready for bed?” She just nods against you, and you tap her legs to prompt her to move. Her hands hold onto your arm to steady herself, wavering where she stands.

“Alright, we’re calling it. Night guys, we’ll see you in the morning,” you announce into the room as Melissa starts going towards the stairs, not trusting her ability to speak when she’s this tired. You get a quiet chorus of night before you walk to the stairs, but your mother’s voice stops your movements.

“Jellybean, could you do me a favor and take the trash out before you head upstairs?” she asks without taking her eyes off the TV.

You internally groan before nodding, turning to Melissa, “go up, baby. I’ll be right there.”

This catches your mother’s attention, immediately moving to face you, “you mean to say ‘goodnight,’ right?”

“What?”

Her eyebrows rise, “you’re saying goodnight, then going to your room. Right?” Melissa’s blood immediately runs cold, color draining from her face. If she was tired two minutes ago, she was wide awake now.

“No...” you say slowly, confused, “why would Mel not also be in there?” You peak over your shoulder to Melissa, giving her a look before your attention is back on your mother.

“So, you’re staying in the guest room? Or is Melissa?”

Your face screws up, “Neither of us? My room’s got a full, that’s fine for us.”

“No.”

“Hell you mean ‘no,’ Ma? Marcus and Kennedy are sharing a full, it’s not a huge deal,” you hear Melissa step down from the stairs, her shaky hand holding your elbow.

“Marcus and Kennedy are married, unlike you two. I know you live together, but my roof, my rules. You know that,” she says matter-of-factly. The other three people in the room pointedly avoid looking at you, not wanting to get on your mom’s bad side.

You argue back, “that’s fucking ridiculous, Ma. We are grown adults, in a relationship.” The arched brow on your mother’s face tells you that you shouldn’t be arguing, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the panic that is starting to eat away at Melissa’s veins at the sudden thought of sleeping without you, something she hasn’t done once in over three years now.

“No rings, two beds. Don’t think I won’t be checking.”

Not wanting to make more of a scene, Melissa tugs on your arm to gain your attention. Turning to her, you can see the silent plea in her eyes for you to give it up. Shoulders sagging, you let out a grumbled fine. Breaking away from her, you go to the kitchen and roughly pull the trash from the bin. It takes a great deal of effort to not slam the door as you stomp to the garage. When you come back in, you don’t bother saying anything to anyone, just wrapping an arm around Melissa to guide her upstairs.

When you get into your room, you shut the door and lean against it with a huff. The two of you silently change into your pajamas, moving slowly from exhaustion and an attempt to prolong your time together. Melissa turns away to fold her clothes on the bed, and you move to wrap your arms around her waist, propping your chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll stay in here tonight. Not like she can’t ground me anymore.”

Melissa turns in your arms, loosely wrapping her own around your shoulders, “it’s alright, I’ll be fine. I don’t want her mad at you for my sake.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t do that,” she says, though the sigh in her voice gives away her uncertainty, “I’ll be okay, amore.”

Your eyes scan over her face before you nod. Her arms pull you closer, noses brushing before she presses a sound kiss to your lips. Melissa’s arms shift and her hands cup your face, moving your head to press kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and chin, until the sour look on your face disappears.

Tugging her into you, you bury your head into her neck, pressing a long kiss there. From her neck you mumble, “I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“I’ll survive in the guest room, this is your bedroom,” she says, though she doesn’t fully mean it.

“What’s mine is yours. Plus, this one’s more comfortable, you’ll thank me later,” you hug her tighter, “so... I will be next door.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s more for her than you this time. Three years. Three years of falling asleep with you still awake beside her and waking up with you already looking at her.

You walk her back towards the bed, getting in with her, though not under the covers. With everyone, especially your mother, you don’t think it’ll hurt to stay until Melissa falls asleep. Her back presses to your front, hand holding yours to her chest, fast beating heart beneath. In a hushed voice, you speak about little things that don’t matter in hopes that it will calm her enough. Slowly her breath evens out, face burying into the pillow as it always does when you hold her like this.

Carefully, you detangle yourself from her and press a kiss to her hair, “I love you.” Stepping out of the room slowly, you leave the door cracked just a little and eye Melissa before turning. At the top of the stairs is your mother, brows raised.

“You better be going to your own bed,” she says quietly, though her tone is hard.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “I am. Just had to make sure Melissa was asleep first.” You try to go into the room next door, but your mom’s face is silently asking for context, “she doesn’t sleep well. Different place, different sleeping arrangement, it’s difficult.”

You don’t particularly appreciate the dismissive way your mom just nods before walking towards the master bedroom, clearly thinking it was just an excuse, but it’s too late to fight about it. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up and crawl into bed with Melissa before she wakes. You watch the crack in the door and listen for Melissa until sleep comes over you.

—☽—

Something wakes you just past three in the morning, an ear splitting scream coming from next door. At first, you think it’s just your own anxiety, closing your eyes slowly. A second scream, this time of your name, and you’re springing out of bed, throwing the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall and slam shut. Four steps bring you to your childhood bedroom, rapidly swinging the door open to run in, not noticing the others joining you in the hall.

When you get into the room, moonlight illuminates Melissa where she’s sitting up with a hand gripping her shirt as she breathes in quick, panicked pants, eyes flying around the room until they land on you. Before she can even reach for you, you’re practically pouncing on the bed to get in front of her. Your hands go to her shoulders, her own gripping your forearms, her watery eyes darting around your face. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, you motion for Melissa to mimic you, trying to slow her rapid breath and heart.

Short gasps become slow, shaky breaths as panic begins to fade and tears form. A whimper of your name makes you pull her into you, her arms gripping your shirt and she cries into your neck. Between broken sobs, only the words window, knife, and everywhere and mention of a him come through, but you understood. This wasn’t the first time Eric’s actions haunted her at night, though it had been nearly two years since she’d woken up in a sweat.

Peeking over your shoulder, you see your parents and brother in the doorway. The look you give your mother is filled with anger and a raised brow that says I told you to listen. The clear fury makes your father pull her back towards their own room, pushing your brother to his. Some level of courtesy hits your mom, closing the door fully before she gets tugged away.

Attention back on Melissa, you alternate between playing with the ends of her hair and lightly dragging your nails over her back under her shirt. You tuck her hair behind her ear, tacky from tears, “you’re safe, Mel. Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let them.”

Rocking side to side gently, you feel her breathing return to normal, body no longer shaking from tears. Trying not to jostle her, you turn your body to lay down with her, keeping her tucked into your neck with your arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head, you slide an arm down to grab her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just below your ear.

You squeeze her hand, “you never have to apologize for this. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I should have stayed.”

She sniffled, “I’m a grown woman, I should be able to sleep alone.”

“And I should be able to stand up to my mother about sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, yet here we are,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she chuckles, the vibration on your skin making you smile, “so it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” you mumble as you settle into the bed more, relaxing as you feel the redhead relax against you.

In a sudden move, Melissa props herself up over you, hair dangling in your face. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, long and loving. It’s a quiet thanks that she will never owe you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” you whisper back.

It takes half an hour for sleep to creep back in, Melissa’s breathing growing slow where she rests on your chest, your heart beating under her ear. When she eventually falls back asleep against your chest, you stay awake and trace lines on her back. You’ll gladly stand guard if it means she sleeps peacefully, stay awake if it means she’s safe.

note: solaris write a fic under 3k like u planned challenge good lord man. also thank you thank you for the compliment, it’s an honor to be the first person u thought of to write this. i hope i did ur vision justice <3

as always, feedback appreciated <3

[kikixreverie]

Need to know

Best friend!Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary - When your best friend starts acting strange and you're left confused about his feelings, Natasha manages to convince you to try to make him jealous, what could go wrong?

Word count - 5k

Warnings - kind of smut, Dry-humping, slight dirty talk, a lot of kissing, fluff, jealousy

A/n - This was a request from an anon but Tumblr ate the ask... and I don't have it written down, but it was something along the lines of 'Best friend!bucky x reader where she asks him advice about a guy to make him jealous'. I wrote this months ago and it definitely wasn't supposed to be this long but here we are. I have edited it about 50 times now and still feel kinda anxious about it since I haven't posted in a while so I really hope you enjoy!

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

You had always been close with Bucky. Always. Having met in your teenage years and grown up together, you were thick as thieves, he'd been your best friend for now the majority of your life. Someone you'd always go to over anyone else when problems would arise at home or school, and he did the same with you.

He had found you hiding out in the library on your second day at your new school, picking at your food with distaste as you sat alone. You were surprised at the fact that the boy had even talked to you in the first place, offering a small wave of his hand and a kind smile when you first saw him, but when he asked politely if he could sit with you and didn't hesitate to pull his lunch from his backpack and complain as dramatically as possible that there was just 'far too much food in his bag and no way he could eat it all', you remember smiling the most you had in weeks, rolling your eyes as you took the fruit he had offered you wordlessly.

You'd been best friends ever since, and there was always this unspoken understanding between you, one that you never had with Steve, as much as you loved him, or Natasha, as close as you are. It was always different with Bucky, always a different atmosphere between the two of you.

That was also unspoken. You'd mentioned it once to Natasha, explained to her that somehow, just being in the same room as him managed to calm that ever-looming anxiety you tended to feel, and when you'd meet his eyes across the distance, you always knew exactly what he was trying to tell you without any words needing to be spoken, that for weeks after your childhood pet passed away when you were 15, Bucky held your hand every single day because your anxiety had spiked and he had noticed the constant shake to them. That became a hard habit to lose.

Her response was 'the look', almost deadpan, wordlessly saying to you 'I know you're not a fucking idiot, c'mon now'.

You had blushed and changed the subject.

Of course there were times you might've looked at him a bit differently, you met at a fairly young age, and it was after meeting him that your interest in boys grew.

Watching the scrawny boy you'd known since you were 13 get his braces off and grow a sudden foot taller was a lot for your growing heart to handle, and then that Brooklyn-boy charm came in and girls were falling at his feet, not one of them knowing or caring about who he was, just hypnotised by those light blue eyes. You always hoped he was too distracted by those girls to notice how desperately hard you tried not to fall under his spell too.

So yeah sure, there may have been a time during your mid-to-late teens and possibly your early twenties that you might have liked him in a' more than a friend' way.

But that didn't mean anything had to come of it.

However, there's a certain red-headed Russian woman in your life that, for some reason, refuses to let you hide in your dark pit of misery and denial.

You shouldn't have even mentioned it. the one time you willingly brought up the topic of James Barnes with the all-knowing Natasha and she had immediately fed your delusions.

"I'm not saying he was jealous at all, Nat, I'm just saying... he looked kind of upset."

"What kind of upset? Did he look sad? Angry? Were his eyebrows all furrowed? ooh, did his fists clench? I bet his fists clenched. The jaw definitely clenched. He's a jaw clencher for sure-"

"Nat, Stop! He just..." You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically as you leaned against her kitchen counter, "He just seemed off."

"Okay, but did his jaw-"

"Yes! Now can we stop talking about it."

She stopped what she was doing to stare at you, her eyebrows raised, "You do realise you're the one that brought it up right?"

You sighed and pressed your palm to your forehead, before dragging it down your face, and Natasha tutted, wrapping her arms around you in a tight squeeze.

"You're stressing yourself out too much about all this, babe. Why don't you just ask him how he feels."

You pulled back from the comforting embrace quickly, but still stayed in her arms, "Fuck that. No. No way. Then he'd know, he'd know why I asked, or he'd at least ask me why I asked and then I'd either have to run away or lie to him and I've never been able to-"

"Okay, breathe angel. Stop this, you can't do this forever, honey. I know you're scared of losing him but this is what could break your friendship if you let it, half the time you're avoiding him because you are so scared of him knowing how you feel." Said Natasha, before she pulled away to continue with her cooking.

"What do you mean how I feel?" You asked, feeling your cheeks grow hot when she sighed and shook her head, not even looking your way.

"Nope, no, not even gonna get started on that one. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

You opened your mouth to argue but she only gave you another look, and your mouth snapped closed.

It was silent for a moment and you leant your elbows on the counter, holding your face in your hands as you watched her expertly sprinkle different spices into her food, but you knew not to get too comfortable in her silence, Natasha was scheming, and that was definitely something to be frightened of.

You practically jumped out of your skin when she finally broke the silence, "I have an idea, but I need you to have an open mind and actually listen for once, okay?"

You hesitated, struggling to hold the intense eye-contact she was currently giving you. A part of you was ready to say no, tell her to leave it be and let you wither in a pit of sadness, but the rest of you leaned in to her words, wanting, no, needing something to happen, anything after years of this constant stalemate, this strange game of cat and mouse between yourself and your best friend. You were constantly holding your breath around Bucky, waiting for something inevitable to happen. What that would be? You had no idea, but you couldn't do it anymore.

"...go on." You finally said, having made up your mind without realising. Natasha almost seemed surprised, but you weren't sure that was even possible. She nodded and gave you a smile.

"You wanna know if he was jealous? Give him a reason to be and then figure out if he is, that way, you'll have more of an idea of how he's feeling, and when it comes to talking to him about your feelings, you might actually do it this time. Plus, you might get some info on how to get him even more interested."

You thought over her words, still confused as to what her grand plan was, "And how might I do that exactly?"

"Say you've got a date, ask him for advice, play with him a little bit. Works every time, trust me."

She said it like it was no big deal, and you were stuck on the way her smirk widened when she said 'play with him a little bit'.

"I just told you I can't lie to him." You replied.

Natasha simply raised her eyebrow at you, "As if you haven't been lying to him since you were 15."

"Hey, that's not lying, it's just... concealing certain parts of the truth."

She tilted her head in your direction but you ignored her, turning away completely and crossing your arms over your chest with a huff.

"Don't lie then, tell him that your interested in some guy and play it off like your asking for advice. He doesn't have to know that he is said guy and its all a secret ploy to make his jaw clench again."

"Nat." You groaned.

"What?"

"Why would I ask him for advice though? He knows I'd go to you."

Nat sighed this time, frustrated with your excuses, "Tell him you wanted advice from a guy."

"But Steve-"

"Just do it! If he's actually jealous he'll be more focused on the fact that your trying to get into pants that aren't his." She raised her voice, dropping her wooden spoon into the simmering pot to turn to you, that Russian accent peaking through her words.

"Nat, I'm telling you now, he isn't jealous."

She almost started to argue, but then she spotted that dejected look in your eye and stopped herself, taking a deep breath to calm her frustrations and think of a good response, "Are you saying that because you believe it? Or because you want him to be jealous so bad you wish he wasn't, because you're terrified of losing him."

You went silent, staring down at the floor when you realised you had no response for her.

"Thought so." She said before shuffling closer, pulling you in for a hug, "Look babe, you need to stop worrying about what could happen, and just focus on what is happening right now. If you're not ready to tell him how you feel, you don't have to. Trying this won't hurt, and it won't hurt your friendship, okay? Go one step at a time, you're getting too ahead of yourself."

You thought about it for a while as you enjoyed the hug, before you pulled back and nodded, thanking her for the advice and apologising for being difficult, she only chuckled and began to dish up the food.

"No worries honey, I'm used to it."

It's not like you had ever said you'd actually do it, and you never exactly planned to. But Natasha's plan had started to loom over every interaction you had with Bucky, so much so that without realising you had started to avoid him, and that only made you feel worse.

It took a sleepless night of tossing and turning and missing your best friend like crazy when you finally made the decision. You can't do this forever, why not just say fuck it for once.

It started when Bucky had invited you to his place for a movie night, like he did every weekend, like he had the past two weekends where you had declined, but this time you said yes, and decided that this would be the night you tried to make him jealous.

You weren't proud of it, and a part of you felt incredibly guilty as you stood at his door and knocked. No matter how many times Natasha told you this was harmless, you still couldn't believe her.

"Are we knocking now? What happened to 'your place is my place'?" Bucky asked as he opened the front door to let you in, barely moving aside so your arm brushed against his when you walked past him.

"Ha ha. Just didn't know if it was locked or not." You punched his shoulder and he scrunched up his face in mock offense.

"Sure. Go sit down and pick a movie, I'm just getting some snacks ready." Bucky said, nodding to the couch before he turned and walked into the kitchen, black sweatpants so low on his hips you could just about see the waistband of his boxers, wearing a black t-shirt with his hair pulled back into the low bun you'd helped him learn how to do.

You nodded slowly, watching him walk away for a few seconds before rolling your eyes at your own idiotic behaviour and slumping down across Bucky's couch, the remote in your hand as you lazily flicked through Netflix.

"Any particular genre?" You shouted out to Bucky, who came out from the other room to shrug his shoulders at you.

"Like I said, doll, whatever you'd like. Only fair after I made you come with me to see that god-awful movie Pheobe forced me to watch."

You snorted a laugh, frowning when he walked away again, your mind wandering to the last time you went to the movies with Bucky, over a month ago now, when he had forced you to third-wheel his second date with 'Pheobe' for no apparent reason.

It was almost humiliating the way she had pulled you aside in the bathroom.

-

"I seriously don't mean to be rude but... why are you here?" Pheobe whispered, despite the fact that every stall was empty and Bucky was stood outside the building, but your face grew heated as the woman across from you voiced the exact question you'd been asking yourself all night, "Like, at first I thought you were a lesbian, but after that story you told earlier I'm assuming you're not, which is fine, but why are you here? I told Bucky this was a date. Does he really not like me at all?"

You were stumped, opening and closing your mouth like a blank-minded fish, searching for the answer that you didn't have, only coming up empty, "Honestly Phoebe, I have no idea. I'm sure he does like you, maybe he just wanted me to come to..."

"Maybe he just wanted to go on a date with you."

"What?!"

"You heard me. I think I'm the third-wheel here." Her voice went quiet, and you instantly felt bad.

"No, Pheobe. That's absurd, he's my best friend."

"You might want to re-think that."

--

"What did you pick?" Bucky asked, placing the bowl of popcorn in-between you as he sat down and you smiled at him, pushing away the memory.

"Twilight." You replied, sinking back into your seat as you grabbed and handful of popcorn and shovelled it into your mouth.

Bucky nodded as his eyes focused on the screen, his jawline prominent as he chewed, licking his lips of the salty flavouring, a light stubble on his jaw from not shaving in a few days-

"You good?"

You gulped loudly, taking a breath as you met his eyes, embarrassed that you'd been caught staring, "Yup." You said, nodding as you turned to look at the screen again, ignoring his amused chuckle.

Your mind wandered to the conversation you'd had with Natasha only hours ago.

'Don't overthink it, just bring it up when you get the chance, be casual about it'

No overthinking, casual. Easy. Maybe now would be a good time to bring it up, casually, without overthinking anything.

"Actually-" You started, clearing your throat when it immediately closed up and your fight or flight was begging to kick in, your mind instantly wondering to all of the negative repercussions this could-

You were definitely overthinking right now.

"Yes?" Bucky asked, still half watching the movie before he fully turned to face you, sensing that this sounded fairly serious.

Definitely not casual either.

"I wanted to uh, talk to you about something." The temptation to smack yourself on the forehead was growing unbearably stronger by the second, but you imagined that would probably raise some concern. Your hands twitched by your sides instead.

"What is it?"

"Well, it's kind of- I basically, well." You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but sighed instead, just fucking say it, fucking lie to your best friend to find out if he's jealous, "There's this guy."

His eyebrows raised, lips parting, before he quickly snapped his mouth shut and furrowed his eyebrows, taking on a sort of clinical expression as he nodded, motioning for you to continue.

"He's uh... I really- like... him, and... he's..." You took a breath, too many pauses, "different, you know?"

He scrunched his face up, "Different? What does that even mean."

"I don't know I just-" You covered your face with your hands, regretting every decision that had led you to this point. "I really want him to like me."

It was quiet for a moment, and you wanted to peak at him, but couldn't.

Bucky sighed, hands gently taking hold of your wrists to pull your hands away from your face, "Look sweetheart, if he's really a smart guy, he'll already like you. Any person would be lucky to have you, you don't need to change for anyone."

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled nonetheless, "I know Buck, thank you. I just..."  

Don't overthink it.

"I was wondering if maybe, you might give me some advice? I'm seeing him on Monday and I guess I just want to make him want me, you know?"

He paused, still holding onto your wrists, "Want you?"

"Yeah, you know like- I wanna know what guys really like. I want to make sure he'll never forget me. That sort of thing."

"Sweets, I don't know if you should be asking me that. Why don't you just talk to Natasha if it's that important." He said, letting go of your wrists and pulling away.

"Because I want to hear it from a guy, and Steve's far too awkward for this conversation. C'mon Buck, please. I want you to teach me."

"You want me to teach you?" He asked, more than slightly breathless, and you quickly realised that this sounded much less like getting advice for a guy you like and more trying to get info on what Bucky liked sex-wise.

You did not plan for it to go down that route, and you wondered if you should pull it back, change the subject and try this again another time, without getting too explicit, but the way Bucky had almost whispered those words, was driving you insane. You wanted this to go further. "Yeah, I want to give this guy the night of his life."

He clenched his jaw, and tried not to laugh at the situation, almost tempted to text Natasha at that very moment and break the news. 'Jaw has clenched, I repeat, the jaw has clenched'. You managed to keep that temptation under control, still finding the situation slightly humorous before you actually realised what this meant.

Holy fuck, he's jealous.

You knew now was as good a time as any to push further, and with your new-found realisation, came a new-found confidence, the nerves pushed to the back of your mind, the only thing left of them being the fluttering in your chest.

"What do you think I should wear?" You held back a smirk when he leaned forward in his seat, elbows rested on his knees as he dropped his face into his hands. You kept pushing, "Remember that green dress I wore to your birthday last year? Do you think I should wear that one? You'd think he'd like that? Would you like it if it were you?"

"What do you mean if it were me?"

You froze, your cheeks heating up, that heat spreading to your neck as you quickly tried to save yourself whilst keeping this strange relaxed smoothness to your voice. "If you went on a date with Pheobe, and she wore that dress, would you like it?" You asked, before deciding to push it even further. Natasha's voice echoed in your mind 'play with him a little', "Would you think about taking it off her?"

He didn't even hesitate to reply, turning his head to look at you as he continued to sit forward, an almost angered air to his words, "It wouldn't suit her."

"You don't like it? But I thought-"

"Yes, I liked the dress, you looked fucking gorgeous in it. It just would suit her." He urged, the words coming out in one breath, his voice straining over the final word as if it was physically uncomfortable to say, like he held a certain distaste for the word. Her.

You could sense the atmosphere in the room changing, warping with the darker, heavy feeling that radiated off the man you were teasing without him even realising it, and although you knew you should probably stop, that you were getting on his nerves and for some reason this seemed to be a touchy subject, that nagging, red-headed voice was seeping into your thoughts again, telling you to go further, so you continued to push.

"Would he like it do you think?" You asked, tilting your head, keeping that sickly sweet innocent look on your face, he sighed and closed his eyes, his tongue wetting his lips again, teeth biting at the soft skin.

"If he had half a brain he'd fucking love it." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing along the words 'fucking love it' and you knew exactly what he was thinking of, the picture he had in his head.

Your smile faded, watching the way he opened his eyes but kept them trained to his feet. That heat grew in your chest, that weight, that feeling, weaving its way around your heart and seeping into your bloodstream, it carried through your veins, and suddenly you had never felt closer to your teenage self than you did now, like she had pushed the older you aside and taken her place, because she knew this feeling, she was the only version of you to ever fully accept and admit it for what it was, that the reason she blushed so much when her best friend asked her to prom because he'd rather go with you than some random girl he didn't care about, was because you loved him, and of course you still do now, of course you do.

You thought of what Pheobe said that night, you thought of what Natasha was constantly telling you, or that time Steve accidentally slipped that Bucky had a crush on you when you were younger, and you looked at him now, quickly realising that it was never them who warped your idea of Bucky's feelings, it was you.

The feeling had encapsulated your entire being now, the realisation of yours and his feelings and you decided that you had both waited far too long if this is what you wanted.

And you wanted him.

So you continued to play, speaking with a much more serious air this time, you didn't smirk, you just watched him as you spoke.

"I guess that's settled then, I just need to know what to wear under it." You practically whispered it, the warm apartment feeling sweltering now.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself, dropping his head in his hands again, "What are you doing?"

He looked at you from his bent position, almost looking desperate. No, he did look desperate, and you hated and loved it at the same time, for two very different reasons, you understood exactly what he was feeling, having been a victim to his teasing one too many times.

You parted your lips to talk, thinking for a second that you might actually be upsetting him, but then his eyes dropped to watch the movement, staring at your lips as he released a breath.

"I'm asking you for advice, Buck." You said quietly, eyes darkening as you leaned closer, your nose almost touching his and his eyes dropped again, entranced by your lips, "What about kissing?"

His lips parted, eyes darting up to meet yours, but he made no move to go back, in fact, you realised with a feather-light touch of his nose to yours, that he had inched closer to you, "What?"

His eyes were soft as he waited for you to speak, no apprehension to be seen.

"I need to know how to kiss him, how guys like it, you know?" He moved back an inch, that not so subtle disappointment in his eyes, "How do you like to be kissed, Buck?"

He shook his head in a barely there movement, eyes still not leaving yours, swallowing roughly when he caught you looking at his lips.

You moved closer to him, filling that inch that he had put between you, your heart thumping faster in your chest when he did the same, like he was magnetised, he looked at your lips again and you decided to take the chance.

"Like this?" You asked, before filling the gap completely and your pressed your lips to his, kissing him soft and slow, your stomach fluttering when he didn't hesitate to reciprocate, kissing you back the exact way you were guiding him to, but you pulled back before letting it continue for long, his breath fanning out across your lips, you gaze fluttered to his eyes for a moment, "Or like this?"

You kissed him again, this time harder, more urgency in it, your right hand lifting to his shoulder before you slid it to the nape of his neck, a sudden desperate need for his lips on every inch of your skin overcoming your thoughts when his arms wrapped around your waist.

You pulled away again and he tried desperately hard to follow you, eyes opening to voice his frustration when you wouldn't let him.

But you brushed your thumb across his bottom lip, silencing him, "Or maybe like this."

This, this was definitely the one.

You kissed him soft and slow, but this time parted your lips to brush your tongue across his, relishing in the noise that escaped him when you did so, and the way he then did the same to you, parting his lips in a way that breathed hot air into the kiss.

You were so enraptured with the taste of him that you barely even noticed when he pulled you onto his lap, your knees digging into the couch on either side of him. You only realised when his thighs between yours had suddenly stopped your ability to squeeze your thighs together in hopes of relieving that throbbing ache that had formed between them.

This kiss continued much longer than you had planned it to, forgetting what you were going to do next, but you didn't mind much, too caught up in the way his lips were so stupidly soft and his tongue was hot and wet, and his hands were huge and grasping at your clothes with a desperation so similar to the way you pulled his hair.

You pulled away again, much to his dismay as he practically growled and rolled his eyes in frustration. He rested his head back against the couch and licked his kiss swollen lips.

You needed more, barely letting yourself think about the fact that you had just kissed Bucky, The Bucky, Your Bucky.

"What about this, Buck? You like it when a girl does this?" You asked and he frowned, looking up at you in almost annoyed confusion, opening his mouth to speak but then you moved forward on his lap, sitting in a way that your core was pressed against his, his cock twitching in his sweatpants when you rolled those hips of yours, the annoyance and confusion faded and he reached for your hips, eyes fluttering shut when you made the movement again, biting your lip when it stimulated your clit, "Do you think you could come from this, Bucky? Or would you need more? Would you want my hand, or my mouth? Or would you just be begging to fuck me at this point."

He groaned at practically every question, his hands holding your hips as you grinded yourself on him, his cock now achingly hard as his hips started to lift slightly.

"Fuck, sweetheart, what is this? Why are you doing this?" He asked, his voice urgent and needy as he forced himself to stay still under you, gripping your hips tighter to signal for you to stop your movements, much to either of your dismay, "Please tell me this isn't all for some fuckin' guy."

You froze, confused for a second, before realising he still had no idea, and that guilt you had shoved away creeped back in.

Your heart was in your throat as you finally told him the truth, "It is, but he's you Buck. It was always you, it's always been you."

His lips parted, eyes widening slightly at what you had just confessed to him, "I'm the guy you were asking me advice about?"

"Well yeah, who else am I gonna get better advice about what you like from? Better to hear it from the horses mouth, eh?" You smiled sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders as you watched him huff a laugh with a shake of his head.

"Natasha, right?" He asked, raising an eyebrow but you didn't respond, probably looking very guilty of his accusation, "Well, I guess I should tell you that we may have been two-timed by her. She actually gave me the very same advice a few months ago, I just never had the guts to take it as far as you did."

"You talk to Nat about me?" You teased, but he only smiled gently, soft eyes watching you.

"Of course I do, how could I not tell her all about the girl I've been in love with since I was 15." He confessed quietly, blush reddening his cheeks, "God, she must be sick of me talking about you."

You laughed quietly, trying not to settle into the disbelief of it all and instead focus on your excitement, that teenage girl inside of you was screaming with glee and kicking her feet. You didn't let realisation that James Barnes just confessed he'd loved you the whole time you'd loved him be tainted with regret about wasted time.

"She must be sick of us both, I've been doing the same thing ever since I met her."

He smiled at you and you smiled back, pressed your forehead against his.

"What do we do now?" You asked, still very much feeling the physical after-effects of your intense make-out session.

Bucky huffed a laugh, "I'd love to say go to the bedroom, but not yet, I think we should work up to that."

You nodded and smiled, understanding what he meant and feeling thankful he was able to voice it for you, "Agreed."

"We could do this for a while longer though, still got four and a half twilight movies left to go." Bucky joked, his fingers finding their way under your shirt to brush against soft skin.

"Hm, sounds like an excuse to make out with your best friend all night."

"Maybe it is." He whispered back before he kissed you again, using his hand on your back to press you against him.

It felt so natural to the both of you, your bodies fitting together perfectly, no awkwardness or anxiety. You knew you'd both need to talk properly soon, but that could wait a few movies more, for now you could settle with kissing him until you ran out of air.

[nicksbestie]

Hey Pooks, I have another self-indulgent request…

I’m coming up on a year clean of SH, there’s no way I could have gotten this far without my friends. I was curious if you could write a fic about Jake/Johnnie either helping the reader during the healing process or celebrating her accomplishments during recovery.

I’m sure that you have a lot of requests at the moment, but I absolutely adore your work.

-🫠

Recovery - Jake Webber

Summary : Recovery is an incredibly hard process, but your best support system are your friends <3

Pairing : Jake Webber/Reader (platonic)

Warnings : mentions of self harm, read at your own discretion!!!!

Word Count : 829

A/N : this was such a heartwarming request :( i'm so proud of you anon!!! as someone coming up on two years of being sh-free next week, i know firsthand how difficult this can be!! you're doing great, keep going!!! <3 to anyone struggling or needing someone to talk to, my anon box is always open, and so are my dms. you're never alone!!

Addiction is so difficult. It is arguably one of the hardest things that a human can go through. And with that, recovery becomes nearly impossible in a lot of cases. 

You had been struggling with a self harming addiction for a long time, and had finally gotten onto the stable path of recovery. You knew firsthand just how difficult this was, and had fallen into many relapses before you had gotten to the point that you were at right now. If someone had told you a couple of years ago that you would be here, right now, you probably would’ve laughed in their face. 

You knew there was no way that you could’ve gotten to the point that you were at now without your closest friends. They had been your support system through everything, not turning away or ever making you feel bad about it when you had been deep in addiction. They had always been caring and loving, making sure that they were there whenever you needed or asked them to be.

You could think of so many times off of the top of your head when they had genuinely be the best people in your life. Your family wasn’t incredibly supportive, blaming you more than anything else, so that had left you with just your friends. Grateful didn’t even come close to covering how you felt for them. 

There had been a time when you had been relapsing, badly, and trying to hide it, feeling that there was the chance of your friends being upset with you, the anxiety and shame of what you’d done completely clouding your judgment. In your panic, you’d forgotten that Jake was due to be coming over that afternoon, and when he let himself in, you freaked out.

However, instead of the angry reaction that you had been anxiously expecting, Jake had been gentle, kind, and overall more than you had ever hoped for. You’d never had someone sit down with you, letting you cry your feelings out, and help you clean up. He sat in the bathroom with you, keeping gentle pressure on your wounds, halfway hugging you in between adjusting his hold, and making sure that you were sitting steady. He’d gently helped you bandage up the cuts, making sure that all of them were clean.

His hands, despite being large, were incredibly accurate and soft. You didn’t feel any excessive pain, but that may have been due to how out of it you were. You’d stopped crying by this point, but you were now exhausted, and didn’t feel good. Jake cleaned up the blood with no complaints, waving you off when you tried to help him. After that, he had pulled you into another hug, before gently settling you on the couch, cuddling with you for a while and making sure you ate something.

He refused to leave your side for many days after that. He stayed next to you, making sure that you were aways comfortable, had something to eat and drink, and took your meds, because he could tell that you hadn’t been taking them. He ordered food whenever you needed some, and never made you do more than lifting a finger to do anything. He had been your biggest supporter for years, but this week really brought the two of you even closer than you had ever thought you would be.

There had been another time where you had called him over, desperate for someone to distract you, and you swear he had never driven his car faster. He had stayed on the phone with you the entire time, getting there as quickly as possible, and had wrapped his arms around you, sitting with you to make sure you couldn’t do anything drastic. There were a ton of days that you would swear he saved your life, and both of those incidents fell under those days.

So that lead you to now, tears on your waterline, threatening to fall as you stood inside your front door, seeing a large balloon blown up in the shape of a “1” in your kitchen, Jake standing there with a huge smile on his face and a cake. He had promised you months ago that he was going to celebrate your year anniversary of being clean when you got there, but you hadn’t thought you would ever get there. You hadn’t thought that he would remember either, so you were shocked when you walked in to this. 

He immediately hugged you, making sure you didn’t cry, and began to cut the cake. It had “One Year!” written on it in curly red icing, and he passed it to you with a small card. It had his scrawly handwriting on the inside of it.

“I’m so proud of you!! One year down, many to go. You’re incredible.”

You had a huge smile on your face by this point, incredibly proud of yourself as well. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

~ taglist : @jake-and-johnnies-slut @gvf23 @elliem505 @ilydeaky @maryx2xx @oobleoob @aemrsy @blahbel668 @mystic-maniac @maddytheweird @707xn @jasperthefriendlyghostt @camille-1019 @anaavolibila @not-phone-guy

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~ my inbox is open, come chat!! <3