#I thought about writing a bit of the in between events from his POV

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 21🛌

Without any further ado, here's the second part of that Smoke/Mute fic I posted yesterday! I hope you enjoy 😊 (Rating E, the best combination: explicit + emotional hurt/comfort + fluff, 6.9k words)

.

“Lie down”, comes the quiet request and neither of them lets go, resulting in Smoke half-dragging Mute with him, pondering whether he should awkwardly remove everything covering the bed with one hand or look for an alternative. He still hasn’t decided when Mute reaches around him and simply tosses the blanket aside, sending everything on top flying and replacing it with Smoke himself, pushed down onto the mattress with their connection now severed. He doesn’t get the chance to miss the contact because Mute descends on him immediately, shuffling the both of them further up on the bed until Smoke can rest his head on the pillow, chasing kisses and ‘accidentally’ kneeling on Smoke’s sweatpants, forcing him to partially undress himself.

Mute finishes the job with intoxicating smoothness, palms gliding over Smoke’s legs and brushing off his trousers almost as an afterthought, then pushing his shirt up until it pools around his neck. Their mouths only leave one another to allow for Smoke to take his top off properly, then slot back together for kisses deep enough to sink into entirely. It doesn’t feel like a mistake anymore, not even a tiny one, not like a grey area or anything questionable. It feels like heaven. It feels like something they should’ve been doing all along. Every touch of tongue on tongue is electrifying, the sensation of embracing the strong body above him a desperately needed kind of soothing. He wraps his legs around Mute’s hips to pull him closer until the weight of the other man presses him further into the mattress and he wishes they could stay like this forever.

Alas, they can’t – though the alternative is acceptable too: Mute sits back up to take his own t-shirt off, arms crossed and all, showing off muscles, and Smoke’s body temperature rises with every inch of revealed skin. He remembers vividly how he stared in disbelief when Mute undressed himself last time, exposing his sculpted chest and tan skin, and somehow, it’s even sexier this time. Maybe because he does it more deliberately, returns Smoke’s gaze, holds it as he finally gets rid of the stupid belt, unzips his jeans and good lord. Just the bit of underwear peeking out has Smoke sweating, let alone the way Mute so carelessly tosses his clothes aside like he’s got better things to do. Like the butt-naked Englishman before him.

And Smoke can’t help himself, he marvels at the beauty of Mute’s (largely) unmarred skin and needs to do something about it, he can’t not. Decisively, he yanks the younger man back down to his level and peppers his shoulder with kisses, smiling when Mute shies away with a low chuckle, and sucks on warm skin once it’s clear Mute isn’t going anywhere. They’re moving against each other now, bodies melting together like they were made for it, dancing to the rhythm of Smoke’s muffled moans. Somehow, he manages to drag Mute’s trousers down with his feet, hooks his toes into the waistband or the belt loops, whichever he can reach, and pulls them over toned thighs while his mouth makes Mute squirm delightfully. There’s only a thin layer of fabric separating their erections now and, judging by the noises escaping from his throat, Mute is getting into it again.

Hunger drives them as they start devouring what’s theirs, Mute’s hands squeezing Smoke’s arse, all of his weight half crushing the man under him, but Smoke doesn’t mind, not with his fingers carding through messy hair and his hips rolling against Mute’s, mouth still occupied with biting and suckling and licking whichever part of his lover he can reach. Teeth pull on Mute’s earlobe, forcing out a quiet gasp that shoots straight to his cock, and catching a glimpse of reddened, almost purple skin and bite marks fills him with pride. Regardless of the outcome, Mute will have to live with these mementos, just like the bruise on Smoke’s calf which faded over the course of almost two weeks. Reminding him every time he caught sight of it.

They could fuck like this, a steady transition of more and more insistent touches until Mute is suddenly inside him and they strive towards a mutual orgasm, and Smoke has no doubt it’d be phenomenal, but he’s got something else in mind. With more effort than he’d like to admit, he flips them over so he’s straddling the subject of all his desires and finally gets a better look at him. Mute’s hair is more tousled than usual, wet lips parted and stretched into a dreamy smile, neck covered in love bites (and they flatter him beautifully), breaths deep and measured. He looks like a young god.

It almost hurts to look at him.

“I want to ride you, babe”, Smoke tells him, though he should’ve phrased it as need, not want, and Mute does a content, affirmative nod like that’s what he’d been hoping for anyway, dopey smile still brightening his expression. He obediently lifts his hips as soon as Smoke reaches down to remove the last piece of clothing he’s still wearing, making Smoke rise with the gesture as well with no visible effort and Jesus Christ that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Smoke takes his time on purpose, generously fondles Mute’s tight buttocks, brushes against his rock hard shaft, lets the waistband drag over it while pulling the briefs down and only relents when Mute starts trembling slightly from the exertion. He never once complains, however.

Once the offending piece of fabric is gone, Mute’s lower half sinks back onto the mattress and Smoke is suddenly glad he went for a larger toy earlier. His hand moves on his own, wraps fingers around the velvety-smooth flesh and marvels at the heat of it. Yeah, he needs this inside of him like five minutes ago. Before he can even open his mouth, Mute reads his mind and indicates the bedside table with his chin, muttering a vaguely embarrassed: “Behind the beer, next to the bowls.”

I’m in love with a fucking slob, Smoke thinks and suppresses the immediate flare up of panic upon the realisation that yes, he still does, and never didn’t, and this really isn’t the moment. He manages to grab the bottle in question without causing anything to topple, not even the precariously balanced pile of books, and pours some of the massage oil into his palm to warm it up. “No lube?”, he asks, curious, and earns a shake of the head. “Babe, you gotta stock up.”

“Didn’t have the need so far.”

Smoke raises a brow. “Well now you do.” And if Mute was planning on replying, he’s stopped short by Smoke’s hand encasing his cock and gliding down from the head to the very base, then back up just as slowly to coat it in the slippery liquid. He’s chewing on his lower lip again, visibly holding back a moan which escapes him nonetheless as soon as Smoke’s thumb rubs over his frenulum. He’s so sensitive, eyelids already falling shut as Smoke pumps him lazily – it must’ve been a miracle that he lasted as long as he did last time. “Babe. Talk to me”, he requests, drinking in how Mute blinks up at him in return, gaze unfocused.

The answer is not what he’d expected, delivered in a marvellously hoarse voice, a deadpan: “Get on with it.”

Well. No need to tell him twice. He flashes a quick grin, stomach flipping when it’s met with a mirror image, and lifts his hips, shuffling further up until he’s positioned correctly. The tip of Mute’s penis kisses his hole and has him shudder already, the anticipation killing him. He’s been fantasising about this ever since Mute very nearly fucked him unconscious, and despite the differing circumstances he’s not any less aroused – Mute is gorgeous, and hot, and staring up at him like he hung the stars, which in and of itself makes Smoke’s dick throb as violently as his heart.

When he pushes down slightly, he has to make a conscious effort to relax and is rewarded with the addictive feeling of being opened by Mute’s erection, his ring of muscle stretching to accommodate and twitching once the head finally slips in, aided by generous amounts of oil. Smoke has to pause and breathe, already feeling full yet wanting more, adjusting slowly to the girth. Mute’s facial expression has slipped a tad, disbelief creeping in, and when Smoke eventually buries him a little deeper, Mute’s eyelashes flutter and his mouth forms a silent oh. His eyes flick up and down, not sure whether to focus on the spot where they’re now connected or Smoke’s face, and impatience has his lower half attempt to meet somewhat faster, forcing a whimper out of Smoke as the thick shaft pushes in further.

“Don’t move, babe”, he gasps, pressing down on Mute’s taut stomach muscles as if that’d actually stop him from anything, “wait. Don’t move yet.” It feels so good, having Mute inside at last, but he knows he should go slowly if he wants to enjoy the ride.

Mute draws a shaky breath yet nods, hands coming to rest on Smoke’s thighs, creeping up a bit, and then they push -

“And don’t do that”, Smoke tries to admonish him while swatting his hands away, fighting against the amusement showing on his face, “you’re unbelievable. Don’t touch me. No, don’t – put your arms up. Arms up, babe. Keep them there.” He relaxes once Mute has obeyed and gripped the headboard with both hands, pursing his lips in an adorable pout, and how is he this cute with half his cock up Smoke’s arse?

To ease the slide, Smoke leans back, propping himself up on the mattress next to Mute’s thighs, and allows the rest of Mute’s erection inside with small thrusts, going deeper and deeper until it bottoms out and that’s approximately when Smoke’s brain stops working. He throws his head back as he grinds against the impossibly big cock, still getting accustomed to the feeling of being filled completely, and moans through clenched teeth when it twitches hard against his sweet spot. He’s sleeping with Mute, again, they’re enjoying the same intimacy as before, and it’s not just a spur-of-the-moment thing, Mute wants him and Mute wants him instead of anybody else, and it feels so fucking good he’s getting light-headed.

True to his word, Mute stays perfectly still yet is betrayed by the muscles standing out in his strong arms where he’s holding on to the headboard; he’s trying so hard not to move Smoke takes mercy on him. He rises up and up until the head pushes against the inside of his entrance and then sinks back down, enveloping it in tight heat once again, drawing a pitiful noise out of his lover. The movement is smooth, Mute’s cock going balls deep without any trouble again, throbbing in pleasure. Just to be sure, Smoke repeats the motion, toes curling as Mute reaches deep into his guts, and then he does it again because he likes the helpless look Mute throws him too much.

Normally, he’d go for a witty quip or some more dirty talk (especially since Mute is weak to it), but another vicious throb inside him hits just the right place, so all Smoke grits out before starting to ride Mute in earnest is a quiet, heartfelt oh GOD. And then his world melts together into an onslaught of pleasurable sensations.

Being in full control means he gets to set the pace and the angle, which in turn means he’s slamming his hips down like his life depended on it while grazing his prostate with every downwards motion – he only needs half of Mute’s length for that, though he occasionally buries him all the way inside when he’s forgotten what overstimulation feels like, or when he has to take a momentary break, or simply whenever he wants to hear Mute moan like a whore. The sound alone would be enough for fierce need to pool low in his belly, and coupled with the sensation of impaling himself on Mute’s dick, it’s positively magical.

He relishes it all, Mute’s adorable, adoring glances, feeling the body between his legs tense up in pleasure, his own thrumming lust demanding for more and ever more. Internally, he’s fighting over whether he should draw this out and enjoy it for longer or instead take what he can, hoping for a round two, aim for an orgasm intense enough to knock his socks off. And though he’d initially vowed to make it last (in case this ends up being a one-off, but he’s not thinking that too loudly), he has to admit the latter option seems more tempting.

Mute’s chest is glistening with sweat, the labour of not doing any work clearly getting to him – his entire body is tensing up, muscles tight and dancing on display, abs twitching. The moans he produces are miserable, either it’s too much or not enough for him; Smoke can’t tell because Mute doesn’t tell, though the lack of complaints has to indicate something. Now and then, he rakes his gaze over Smoke’s entire body, head to toe, always getting stuck in the middle where he can watch his own dick disappear inside his fellow teammate, where he can watch Smoke’s own follow his motions, slapping against his belly. Mute’s mouth seems lonely. Smoke idly wonders whether Mute would suck him off if he asked, and whether he’d let him come down his throat. His tongue is certainly skilled enough to coax out a killer climax.

By now, Smoke’s body is protesting against the position, his arms trembling under his weight, so he takes the opportunity to lean forward, lean down and seal Mute’s lips with his own once more. Their kisses start out sloppy and only get worse as Smoke keeps grinding his hips, yet the extra stimulation from playing with Mute’s tongue and rubbing his poor, forgotten erection over Mute’s flawless skin is more than worth the awkward position. The lad snogs him like he needs it to live, all open mouth and thinly-veiled despair, arching his back and needy groans. Smoke enjoys it for a little longer, sucks on his lower lip while letting him go deep, but when he sits back up, it’s his gig again.

He’s steadying himself on Mute’s chest, pressing down on ribs and savouring the resulting shallow, fast breaths, and picks up the pace. It’s not perfect, he can feel the sheer size of Mute’s dick better though the angle doesn’t work as well, yet they’re closer like this, keeping up eye contact, sharing more body heat. It makes Smoke want to tell him, burst out with all the feelings he’s harboured for his friend; his heart is full and threatening to overflow and maybe, just maybe, he can chalk it up to the heat of the moment later. He got away with it last time, didn’t he?

“James”, Mute interrupts his thoughts before he can decide to act on them, “can I touch you? Please?”

And he’s nodded before he fully processed the plea because how could he ever say no to this man?

With a relieved sigh, Mute immediately makes use of the permission and runs his palms over Smoke’s thighs, follows the rolling of his hips and guides them gently before moving on to roam over the rest of his body. Curious fingers seek out all his erogenous zones as if they knew exactly what to aim for: fingertips brush over his throat and press down experimentally, causing Smoke’s breath to hitch and his rhythm to falter momentarily because holy hell how does he know. They push between their legs and stroke over the place where they’ve become one, force Smoke to pause for a moment while they prod at his hole, making him shiver in pleasure. Of course, they play with his nipples, twist throaty moans out of him and have him nearly fold in half at some point, hips stuttering and stomach fluttering.

Eventually, they explore his crotch, wipe up some of the oil from the base of Mute’s own cock to smear it onto Smoke’s, stroke and squeeze and massage even more powerless noises out of him. They adapt to his tempo, sliding up when he bears down onto the delicious piece of flesh, stroking him all the way to the base when he lifts his pelvis again. He can’t see straight anymore, the mixture of Mute’s eagerness to please and his dick hitting all the right places is too much for him, he’s rapidly climbing up towards his climax now. Mute steals his move by massaging the sensitive spot directly below Smoke’s glans and adds an unfair twist to his wrist on the upstrokes and if he keeps this up for just a little longer, Smoke is going to blow his load much sooner than he’d like.

“Babe, I’m getting close”, he warns his lover, “but don’t stop. This feels amazing, you feel so good.” Mute’s focused expression shifts into something Smoke can’t interpret, but what he can interpret is Mute’s hands letting go of his weeping erection to move back to the top of his thighs. “I said don’t sto-oh fuck -”

While he’s still reeling, Mute looks up at him with what can only be described as puppy dog eyes, full of feigned innocence despite knowing he’s being very naughty, probably expecting Smoke to tell him off yet before he can do so, Mute again slams up into him, to the hilt, at the same time pushing Smoke’s hips down to meet his thrust and Smoke’s vision is gone for a second.

This is too much. It’s too deep. He explicitly told Mute not to -

When Mute repeats the motion, one of Smoke’s arms gives in and he’s forced to steady himself on his lower arms instead of just his hands, which brings him much closer to Mute’s face, meaning the bastard can give him a quick, cheeky kiss before rearranging his insides. Again. “Babe”, he starts and whatever else he wanted to add is lost and replaced with a high-pitched whine because now Mute’s changed to a choppy, fast tempo, burying himself completely inside Smoke with each thrust and holding him in place, allowing for no escape. He’s got no choice but to let Mute have his way with him, he’s physically too weak to fight back and mentally too smitten to try – besides, it feels fucking sensational, it’s just – it’s the principle of it, he wanted to be in control this time and -

- and Mute slams right against his sweet spot and Smoke’s cock twitches so hard he worries about pulling a muscle.

Okay. Yeah.

This is fine.

He gives in with an animalistic, guttural groan and lets Mute mercilessly pound into him for the second time in his life. The lad is manipulating his body however he wants it, pushes him up so they can trade some more spit (because this has little to do with kissing anymore), lifts and drops his hips so he can reach as deep as he likes, digs his fingertips into strained thigh muscles to force out more half pained, half appreciative noises. When it becomes clear Mute is too occupied with scratching up Smoke’s sides and groping his backside to pay any attention to his neglected erection, Smoke (literally) takes it into his own hand and starts jerking himself to the erratic tempo of Mute’s movements.

His blood is hot in his veins, intensifying every shock of pleasure until he’s left simply whining into the crook of Mute’s neck, cheek against cheek, their chests pressed together, bodies moving in unison. He’s close, Mute’s ministrations brought him almost to the edge and now he’s hovering near it, pausing his strokes intermittently to not go too far, and their physical proximity is getting to him. Mute is cradling him in his arms, mouthing at and moaning against his skin, sweat-slicked and burning, thrusts getting faster, more desperate. His increasing urgency is contagious and Smoke finds himself babbling, he’s got no control over what comes out of his mouth anymore.

“Come inside me, babe, please”, he begs, probably preaching to the choir, “just tell me when. I love you. God, you feel so good. Don’t stop.”

Mute’s rhythm falters momentarily (and Smoke can guess why), he draws a sharp breath and buries his teeth in Smoke’s shoulder, the brilliant pain somehow amplifying the overwhelming need to come. “Don’t”, Mute mumbles around a mouthful of skin while he continues to bury himself balls deep. “James – don’t.”

There’s no stopping him now. Smoke repeats it, meeting Mute’s thrusts and his own fist with reckless abandon, says it again and again and Mute’s response in the form of a quiet, hopeless whimper is music to his ears. Though he doesn’t trust his own body to support him anymore, not with how wobbly he feels, Smoke lifts himself up with one arm to say it directly to Mute’s pleading, desperate, pleasure-contorted, beautiful face: “Babe. I love you.”

And, without any warning at all, Mute just explodes inside him. He shoves himself as deep as he will go, and comes, lets out a deafening moan that his neighbours probably had no chance not to hear, eyes rolling back, grip impossibly tight on Smoke’s waist. Smoke can feel every single spurt, feels the shaft inside him jump and it’s the most magical thing he’s ever seen, even factoring in the last time they did this – and since his own hand never stopped, kept stroking his own cock, he’s shoved off the edge also as soon as he realises what exactly it was that triggered his lover’s orgasm.

When the first storm front of blinding pleasure rolls through him, he involuntarily clamps down on Mute’s throbbing dick, causing it to twitch even harder, causing Smoke to tense up again, and so they shudder their way through their orgasms, heightening each other’s pleasure as they hold on for dear life. Smoke can hardly bear touching himself with how intense it feels, his cock shooting out white strands all over Mute’s torso as he trembles and pants and wallows in mind-numbing ecstasy; and below him, Mute squirms and moves against him, intent on prolonging this divine feeling even more. They end up riding it out in small motions, teeth gritted and fingers twitching, basking in the intensity of it until it starts to fade gently. Even then, they coast on the aftershocks once the overpowering sensations have mellowed out, puffing out incredulous breaths, eyes closed in bliss.

Eventually, Smoke’s arm does give in and he unceremoniously collapses onto Mute, trapping his too-sensitive dick between their bodies but not finding it in himself to care. Mute withdraws awkwardly, leaves behind an uncomfortable void and it’s a sign Smoke is sobering up that their general stickiness is beginning to bother him. Still, he enjoys the physical contact, the warmth, the all-encompassing exhaustion slowly taking over; his limbs are made of butter and bones no more than a suggestion. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to even slide off without considerable help. Maybe Mute won’t mind sleeping like this. Smoke certainly doesn’t.

He considers driving the point home by repeating himself post-coitus, though he assumes Mute wouldn’t appreciate it – in the heat of the moment, sure, he might interpret it as appropriate teasing, as a way for Smoke to assert what little dominance he can, possibly even a form of dirty talk (and that thought is particularly weird). But now? Now it’d carry weight. It would actually mean something.

And somehow, that prospect terrifies him.

Below him, Mute’s breathing has evened out to a point where it’s becoming suspicious, so Smoke nudges him. “Hey. No sleeping yet.”

The response is a disgruntled hum he recognises as Mute’s universal sign for ‘leave me alone, I’m too tired’. His eyes are closed, his entire body devoid of tension. Yeah, he’s gonna be useless like this, they’d better postpone talking until the next morning.

Groaning in agony, Smoke rolls off the other man, stretching and bending parts of his body so they feel like his own again, and eventually manages to pull the blanket out from all the crap under which it’s still buried. If Mute doesn’t care enough to keep his bedroom clean, surely he won’t mind come stains on his sheets.

He looks peaceful like this, forehead smooth, long eyelashes fanned out on his reddened cheeks, chest rising and falling slowly. While Smoke watches, Mute turns away from him and then backs up until they’re spooning, melts into Smoke’s negative space and shoves him slightly to indicate he wants to cuddle proper, only stops once Smoke has wrapped an arm and a leg around him, pulling him close. It’s adorable. It’s so fucking adorable Smoke presses his nose into Mute’s hair and tries really hard not to tear up.

This is what he wanted. Above all, this is what he’s been wishing for – the sex is nice, sure… well, it’s phenomenal, but really he craves proximity, trust, shared comfort.

He hopes with every fibre of his being that they can clear up whatever went wrong tomorrow.

.

Despite sleeping like the dead, Smoke wakes up first, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling and requiring a few heartbeats to orient himself. They’ve lost most of the blanket overnight, though it’s not like they needed it – Mute is a space heater, radiating comforting warmth like nobody’s business. He’s still pressed against Smoke and taking deep breaths, sleep uninterrupted.

Smoke decides against waking him for now in order to sort his own thoughts and slips out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom to take a leak and a well-deserved shower. The shower gel smells of nothing but Mute and it feels like blasphemy to surround himself with this scent, yet he can’t stop himself. While the too-hot water drums on his skull, he tries to come up with a plan, any sort of… idea of how to untangle this mess. Which questions to ask, which answers to demand. Which topics to avoid, maybe. Which apologies to give first.

It could be the early hour, or the residual tiredness, or the fact that thinking straight while wrapping himself in a towel that also smells like Mute is nigh impossible: his mind is utterly empty. All he can do is exist until Mute perceives him, and then the two of them can decide how to move forward. It feels like he’s stopped grieving for the time being without allowing himself any hope, and the result is vast emptiness. Gone is the dread overshadowing his entire life, but gone is also the pleasant afterglow from last night.

No hope. Not yet. He wouldn’t want the same thing to happen twice.

For a lack of better options, he puts his sweatpants and t-shirt back on, if only to feel vaguely human again, and moves the pile of boxes onto the windowsill so he can sit down on the only chair in the room, slightly behind the bed. He’s got a perfect view of Mute’s sleeping face like this, angelic and unguarded. Choosing not to take a picture with his phone is one of his better decisions, that’s for sure – if it all goes south, he wouldn’t want to be confronted with it again, neither now nor in the future. For various reasons. If this goes well, he’ll be blessed with the view again anyway.

If.

Before he can debate how to wake the sleeping beauty, Mute starts stirring by himself and rolls on his back to stretch, arms spreading and hands moving as if he’s looking for something – but before Smoke can draw attention to himself, Mute sits up abruptly, eyes wide. He glances down the opposite side of the bed from Smoke before hissing out a heartfelt fuck, and then he’s suddenly scrambling to get out of bed, half tripping over everything in the process. He rushes out of the room, still swearing under his breath, and leaves his dumbfounded guest behind.

Smoke blinks.

He can hear Mute race through the apartment, throwing doors open and uttering increasingly desperate curses, and it’s obvious what happened. He’s thinking Smoke left. He must’ve not seen him in his peripheral vision, checked for his clothes only to find them gone, and seems to be unsuccessful in his current search.

What in the world. Unexpected doesn’t cut it, this is bordering on concerning territory. It’s an intense reaction to finding Smoke missing, to say the least, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with it.

A soft vibration by his thigh prompts him to check his phone and, to nobody’s surprise (but everyone’s worry), it’s Mute texting him. And although it’s no more than three words, they reek of desperation, were likely typed with shaky fingers.

Call me, his display shows. Please.

Smoke draws a deep breath and puts his phone down on the bedside table before getting up. He finds Mute in the living room, still naked, kneeling on the floor and clutching his own device in his hands as if it allowed him to breathe. There are scratch marks on his body, love bites all over, his hair a complete mess. And despite knowing their origin, Smoke finds that it all makes Mute look wild, cornered. Hurt.

“What are you doing?”, he asks, making the poor lad nearly jump out of his skin. He stares at him, mouth open, then gets up, a whole bunch of different emotions visible in his expression: confusion, despair, distress, panic, shame. He even tries to hide his nakedness somehow, which serves as a sharp reminder that he must’ve been more intoxicated last night than Smoke realised. This is the Mute he knows, the one who turns into a skittish animal whenever honest feelings are involved, and not the suave fuckboy who doesn’t even ask for permission before ramming -

“Let’s get back to bed”, Smoke suggests, voice gentle, and holds out his hand. He thinks he can see moisture glistening in Mute’s eyes and wonders: what happened to you, darling.

To Mute’s credit, he accepts the offer and interlaces their fingers once more, trails awkwardly behind Smoke and takes the first opportunity to hide most of his body under the blanket. Attempting to even the playing field, Smoke undresses before joining him, though it somehow doesn’t quell the lad’s nervousness. “Please explain”, he demands and now Mute also tries to hide his face.

“Fuck”, he says, eloquently.

Silent, Smoke keeps on holding on to his hand while carding his fingers through Mute’s mane, hoping the gesture helps to slow both their heartbeats. Neither of them utters a word until Mute has ceased his trembling and there’s nothing left but vague horror on his face.

“I’m – oh god, this is awful. I’m awful. I’m such a bloody moron”, he eventually mutters, shaking his head. His ears are crimson: an indication of how incredibly uncomfortable he must be right now. Smoke still understands nothing. “I’m so sorry. James, you don’t understand, and you won’t understand, but I genuinely am sorry. I just – I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to do, and what not to do, and so I did everything wrong -”

“Babe”, Smoke interrupts him, “as much as I enjoy watching you grovel, maybe you should tell me what in all of the fucks is going on.”

All Mute produces in return is something Smoke can only call a pitiful squeak, which clears up exactly fuck all. Alright. Different strategy.

“Then I’ll start. Because I’m sorry too.”

This, at least, penetrates the aura of embarrassment Mute projects probably without realising. “What?!”, he goes, almost indignant, previous terror entirely forgotten.

“I… took advantage of you. You know, last time. Well, yesterday too. You were -”

“No you didn’t.” There’s anger colouring his words now. “Bollocks. I told you to stay that time, didn’t I? You gave me every opportunity – and I initiated. Both times! What are you – don’t tell me that’s actually what you thought.”

Smoke frowns. “You were not in a position to give informed consent.”

“You know, that makes it worse. That makes it so much worse”, Mute muses, sounding fatalistic.

“What makes what worse?”

“Everything.”

They still haven’t moved forward a single step. “Look, why don’t you just… start at the beginning. What happened, why did you start avoiding me, what happened yesterday?”

“Okay.” Mute nods, rubbing over his face likely in the hopes it’ll help him get his brain in order (it doesn’t, Smoke has tried many times himself) and heaves a deep sigh. “Yeah. I suppose. But don’t hate me after this. And don’t laugh! Promise you won’t laugh.”

At this point Smoke would’ve given several toes if it meant he’d get a straight answer out of this idiot in front of him. He’s getting the creeping suspicion that he worried a lot about nothing and that Mute is even worse at communicating than he thought. “Sure. I promise.”

“Alright. Yes. Okay. Well, as you know – of course, you were there – we, um, there was the terrorist lab, and during the mission, I got, uh -”

Jesus fucking Christ. If Smoke wasn’t this tense about finding out what went wrong between them, he’d be a lot more amused about Mute’s waffling, but right now he doesn’t have the nerve to listen to it. “Yeah, yeah, you enthusiastically pounded several loads into my holes. Go on.” Mute fixes him with a unique mix of reproach and embarrassment. His ears are bright red. “Babe, you’ve had your cock all the way down my throat and you can’t even say out loud that we had sex?”

“This is part of the problem”, Mute grits out, sounding strained.

“My filthy mouth?” Smoke suggested it as a joke and did not expect for Mute to answer with a slight nod. “What, seriously? What? How?”

Wordlessly, Mute lifts the blanket and allows Smoke full view of his glorious cock, well on the way towards fully erect and proud.

“Oh”, says Smoke.

Mute drops the blanket again.

They look at each other for a few seconds, unmoving.

Well. There’s only one thing to do, probably. Smoke purses his lips and offers a quiet: “… want me to take care of that?”

.

Five minutes later, after Smoke has wanked his lover to completion, sucked on his nipples and cradled his balls while Mute shuddered and moaned through it all, he finally gets some answers. Mute’s orgasm has tangibly relaxed him, and while he pets Smoke’s head in absent-minded affection, he comes clean.

“I got too much in my own head, I suppose. I’m not normally that… dominant – unless I’m drunk apparently –, and I was worried you’d expect it of me afterwards. And I was sure you’d be disappointed. And then I started wondering whether you even had any interest in me, or whether you just saw it as a one night stand and that was it. Or whether you’d just want me for sex, or whether you would think I would just want you for sex when I suddenly showed an interest after we did it. It was a whole mess, I had myself convinced that we were doomed to fail, that you would laugh at me the next time we slept together, or that rumours would spread, or… something equally stupid. It was stupid. I was stupid, and I knew it, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Moron”, replies Smoke, deadpan, startling a snort out of the other man.

“Yeah. I was. I am. It’s probably the only area in my life where I’m really self conscious.”

“You should be more self conscious about tidying your room.”

“Fuck off.” Despite the blunt reply, Smoke’s light banter has conveyed exactly what it meant to: it’s fine. I still like you. The pained expression on Mute’s face that showed as he talked about the sensitive topic had no time to solidify.

“And you’re aware you could’ve, you know, talked to me, right?”

“No! See? That’s the thing – I couldn’t!”, comes Mute’s emphatic response, and oh boy, this better be good. “I couldn’t talk to you. I tried. I almost did, once or twice, but it just… no.”

“Huh? Did I interrupt you? Or why?” Smoke seeks his gaze, confused, since he doesn’t remember the lad ever seeking him out for a serious conversation – sure, he’d looked at him a few times like he wanted to spill some beans, but nothing ever came out. And again, Mute gives him an almost accusatory stare before gesturing broadly in the direction of his own crotch.

“What?” He suddenly remembers Mute’s earlier remark as well as his… extreme reaction to Smoke’s dirty mouth, and the truth dawns on him. “… what.”

“Yes. I know. Tell me about it.” Mute seems genuinely upset. “I couldn’t. Every time I looked at you, I just remembered… god, it was so bloody hot that I couldn’t think about anything else while you were there. It’s like I suddenly had see-through-clothes-vision – which shouldn’t ever be called x-ray vision, thank you very much – because you might as well not have worn anything at all, ever, because I just… pictured you…”

Smoke’s mouth is wide open. He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“And whenever you looked at me, it was even worse, it was like magnetic attraction or some shite. I couldn’t deal with it, not in public. I just couldn’t. You were too much. And acting on it would’ve been certifiably insane, we only saw each other at work which is an absolute no-go, especially after we’ve already done it on a mission – on a mission! – and the others were always around, and they’d know. Oh you know they’d know. So no chance. Nuh uh. Besides, you probably would’ve thought that all I wanted from you was sex which is not true, and therefore -”

“Wait. Wait, hold up.” It takes Mute several seconds to stop gabbing, he’s talked himself into a rage directed at himself and Smoke needs to take a huge fucking step back here. Because what the actual hell. “Mark. Are you actually telling me that the sole reason you ignored me for weeks, that the explanation for all the mental anguish I went through thinking you genuinely hated me, that I’d done something unforgivable to you, that I’d ruined a friendship and lost the love of my life, that all of that happened… because you got incurably horny around me and couldn’t deal with it like a grown adult?”

A long pause.

Smoke stares.

“I know, I know”, Mute is wincing now, face contorted in regret and shame, “there’s… no redemption there, I agree. But it was just… you called me babe once, I think on accident, and I had a boner for two hours – I had to hold a meeting in front of most of the others and I was adjusting my trousers the whole time, hoping nobody’s gonna say anythingand I know that doesn’t in any way compare to what you -”

“That”, Smoke cuts in, barely able to compose himself, “is so fucking funny.”

Mute blinks. Looks at him, bewildered. “What -”

He needs a moment before he can continue, eyes wide in disbelief and stomach clenching in suppressed amusement. “I – I promised not to laugh, so I’m not laughing. But if you think for even one second that I’d ever let you live this shite down, you’re sorely mistaken.” He can’t help the grin stealing onto his face, betraying the immense relief he feels – he’s giddy, his chest so light it feels like he could float away at any moment. God, what absolute idiots they both are, worrying about nothing when they’ve both wanted the same exact thing this whole time: each other. Hearing Mute say it (imply it, whatever, he said he wanted more than sex, which is good enough for him) leaves him dizzy and breathless and elated. “You can bet your pretty arse that I’ll be exploiting this for years to come. Oh, I’ll call you babe in public when you least expect it. Say goodbye to any kind of decency because I’ll -”

“Does that mean we’re good?”, comes the quiet, meek question which instantly disarms Smoke. His will to keep teasing his lover vanishes entirely, leaving nothing but fierce, helpless affection. Yeah, there’s no way he’s ever going to say no to anything Mute asks of him.

“Yeah. We’re good”, he confirms softly, kissing a dark purple spot on Mute’s shoulder before adding a grumbled: “Fucking gobshite.”

He earns a low chuckle and a tight embrace that feels like heaven. Like finally arriving after a long, arduous journey. Like a reunion at the airport. “I’m sorry”, says Mute again and Smoke has no doubt that he is.

Snuggling up to the light of his life, he mutters: “You do know that you owe me a variety of special favours now, right?”

And though he can’t see it, he’s positive Mute’s ears just turned a shade darker.

[winterarmyy]

Must Be Fate

Prequel to And You're Mine. This is the story of how Y/N first met her cute, chubby alpha!bucky.

Summary: Y/N has been crossing paths with this particularly sweet alpha all day long; this must be fate right?

Note: There was a mention of this event in 《 And You're Mine 》 so, it's only canon for me to write it.

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 4.2k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. fluffy stuff. sort of fated mate themed because... love at first scent(?). instant love. the reader was just smitten without even knowing bucky's name, alpine making her appearance, 99.9% reader's pov because she's the one who fell in love and remembers him. Dialogue? almost little to none (I AM SO SORRY FOR THAT). And I little shout out to one of my favourite book.

P/S: Been busy these few days, i just graduated my bachelor's degree, then went through the whole job hunting process and somehow managed to land an offer (in another state btw), then went on a stressful house hunting journey and managed to get decent place. Yknow, all those "adulting" stuff (that i am not ready to face). But yeah, here's a little something from my wip that I managed to finish. Happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N herself might not notice it, but she had been stealing glances through the pretense of the book she was supposed to be reading for quite some time now. Not that she wanted to be distracted anyway; she was rather enjoying her current read, especially the banter between main characters, Liesel and Rudy.

Yet for some reason, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the particular alpha sitting on the park bench, right across from her.

It seemed that the man was also distracted with his own personal dilemma as his thoughts were lost within the arrangement of peonies in his hand. There was this deep frown decorating his features yet his eyes translates a different type of emotion. More gloomy, more somber. And Y/N knew exactly why.

She never meant to follow Bucky around, in fact, she didn’t. It just happened that his paths were fated to intertwined with hers; and it all started that afternoon.

The bus was packed full, albeit it was Saturday, but thankfully she managed to find herself a seat.

Since Y/N was getting closer to her heat, in about a week or so, and her scent blockers were nearly out. She just got back from a nearby clinic to restock and now she had a full day for herself.

The thing about her pre-heat condition is that she was fortunate to not experience the normally unpleasant symptoms like any omega would; she doesn't get irritated easily and she didn't have to go through those random aches and fever.

However, she had a particular symptom that differs from the other omega; which involve the irregular increase of her scent.

During pre-heat and all throughout the actual heat, Y/N’s scent tripled the amount of a normal omega in heat. And since, she refused to take suppressants, the doctor prescribed her with a high dosage of scent blockers instead; to mask her scent completely during pre-heat.

Besides her own scent thickens and heighten, her sense of smell was also affected. It will become so senstive that she can smell everything and everyone, all at the same time.

Unfortunately for her, there weren’t any medication to combat that issue and the only solution she could do was wearing a mask to lessen affect of other people’s scents. But of course, the mask can only do so much especially when she was in a tight confinement of a bus with – what feels like – 2000 people crammed into it.

Too many potent scents coming from every direction, that her head spun into nausea.

Sure, she might be a little bit exaggerating about the amount of people in the bus, but it felt awfully like it when the bus stopped in every bus stop in its route; she can physically feel the inertia of the force pushing her to lean forward.

Thank god, she was sitting down; she managed to hold on the seat in front of her for support. Often times she would whisper her apologies to the man sitting in front for the sudden push of her hand, And most times he only nodded without looking back.

But at one of those stops, unfortunately, the teenager standing next to her bumped his head right onto the metal pole. Poor thing quickly scurried out of the bus in pain and embarrassment.

The density of people became lesser at that stop, but not enough to empty any seat in the bus. Though it worked well for her that most of the strong scents were fading into a much more bearable capacity for her to endure.

While streams of people exited the bus, only one came aboard; a sweet old lady. The moment Y/N saw her, she was already thinking of giving up her seat, but the man sitting in front of her beat her to it as he swiftly stood on his feet and help the old lady to his seat.

The old lady gushed and thanked the man, dearly patted his cheeks like any grandmother would do to their grandchildren.

And in that brief moment of time, when he moved, Y/N picked up a particularly sweet scent trailing behind him and when he came back, it hits her like a train. At first, she can sense some sort of floral; roses and jasmine but with time the smoky sandalwood and spicy cinnamon seeped through. The combination of sweet and woody notes made such a warm and captivating scent.

She never knew an alpha can smell this good.

Her eyes fluttered close as the alluring scent flooded her brain, letting his scent creates the dreamy images of his fingers lacing between hers as they walk in the rain, or him cuddling her in the heat of the fireplace during the winter, or his body trapping her by the back as she takes his huge delicious kno—whoa.

That was way too vivid and a tad too far.

She was so enthralled by his scent that she forgot to even look at the man’s face. And a mistake it was for her to take a peek because he is absolutely gorgeous. The brown locks on his head was neat and clean that she just wanted to make a mess out of it. His eyes were pretty in steel-blue and his plush lips was simply a sin to look at.

Though some would argue about the lack of shape in his jawline, the same one that was hidden between his chin; she didn’t care at all, rather she was particularly fond of the softness on his chubby cheeks. Shaved so clean and smooth that she couldn't find a single razor cut on his skin.

They look so cute and kissable. She want to kiss his cheeks, his lips, and every part of his ridiculously handsome face. She wanted kiss him so badly.

And those intrusive thoughts made her almost missed her stop.

Y/N panicked when she scurried out of the bus that she didn't even thought to ask him for his name or number; anything.

But then again, she wasn't the type to be so bold in the first place; she knew wouldn't have the courage to even speak a word to him. His scent alone almost pushed her into a frenzy, so imagine if he would look at her with those beautiful eyes of his, smile at her, talk to her?

She'd simply die. She was sure of it.

So, with regrets Y/N walked towards the familiar road right into the local bookstore that she often visits. Thinking that this encounter would probably be forgotten by the end of the day.

Then she spent hours in that shop trying to find the perfect book to put her out of the miserable reading slump she was currently in. While her eyes skim over the covers of the book in display, in the back of her head, Y/N was almost certain of how unlikely it was for her to see the alpha ever again.

Couple of turns later, her footsteps trailed back to the space in between the bookshelves next to the huge glass window of the store. Still glancing absentmindedly at the book covers particular on the historical fiction isle. She halted when she saw it, the book that people had been recommending to her, 'The Book Thief'.

After reading the summary behind the book, she felt drawn to it almost instantly. Thinking that maybe this would be the book that will replenish her interest of reading back to its utmost glory.

But when she lifted her head up, she froze yet again. This time, not because the sight of a book. But it was the silhouette of the alpha she saw in the bus. Instinctively, her feet step closer to the glass window, to have a better look at the man across the road.

The alpha had just exited the flower shop opposite from where she was standing, with a gorgeous bouquet of peonies in his hands. Now that she looked closely, his hands were covered with black leather gloves; it intrigued her and she wondered about the story behind it.

Y/N wasn't that dense; she could see it right away from the way he dressed, to the choice of gift he went for. She knew instantly that the alpha was probably going out on a date.

And that stung her a little bit. How nice it must be to be his date, his girl, his omega.

Funny of her to think so when she never really talked to the guy. Let alone know him well enough to decided whether he's a good alpha or not. But something about him felt right to her.

But, sometimes it'll be like that. Falling in love so strongly, so instantly. And there's nothing wrong with it, as long as you know how to protect yourself; your body, your heart.

When her gaze moved upwards to his face; and her heart almost escaped her body. It was so quick, so faint. But, she saw his smile. It wasn't for her but it was so pretty. Y/N felt like a bow just struck her chest and the cupid was trying to pull it back out.

She knew full well how she probably need to move on from this delusional crush of hers yet her eyes still longingly lingered at his moving figure, walking farther away from her sight.

When she thought that would be the last time she saw him, she was utterly wrong. Now, it felt like devilish cupid was toying with her heart as their path crossed yet again, this time at a nearby cafe.

She didn't notice him at first, at least until she placed her orders and saw him sitting alone at the far corner of the cafe. He seemed to be waiting for his date; the flowers laid perfectly on the seat next to him.

In contrast of the few looks of his that she had witness before, the alpha's demeanour indicates anxiousness.

His heel keeps tapping the floor, causing his knees to jump up and down, as he fiddled with his phone. Occasionally, he would look at the time and put it down. Just to do the same thing over again only seconds later.

And that made her wondered if this was his first date with whomever the person he was supposed to be seeing. She knew those feelings all too well. It was only canon that he felt the jitters on his first date, she'd been there too.

When her drink was served, Y/N decided to stay awhile longer. She didn't know what she was expecting from this but she wanted to make sure he was okay. Or maybe she just wanted to see who was the lucky girl. So she found herself a seat, a little bit discrete yet enough to see him from where she sat.

Pulling out her new purchase, she decided to pass the time with some light reading, maybe getting herself comfortable with the world building in the book and get to know the main characters in the process. In between those moments, Y/N would peek above the book, particularly at the sight of that beautiful stranger from across the room.

Pages upon pages she drowned herself to the words of the author that she didn't notice how time flies passing the half an hour mark; and the cafe started to get more crowded and rowdier. Certainly, the amount of potent scents had were floating around her were slowly getting to her.

Y/N knew if she stayed a longer, she'd surely throw up whatever drink she just had. So, she decided to leave. But not before glancing at the alpha – who was still waiting for his date – for one last time, then she pulled the door open and walked away.

Certainly, that was supposed to be the last time she see him right? Nope. The universe proved her wrong when the man found a seat on the bench opposite her. With the same bouquet of flowers in his hands.

And at this point, she thought that this must be fate. There's no other explanation than this.

When she lowered her book again, she saw a white feline rubbing its head on Bucky's legs. It was too far to hear its voice but considering the amount of time its mouth open, Y/N figured it was meowing at him.

Probably to get his attention, or just wanted to comfort the alpha because just from the look of it, she knew he was stood up by his date. And Y/N was unexpectedly mad about it; maybe it was from personal experience or maybe it was just because she couldn't accept the fact that this fine, gorgeous, sweet alpha was being stood up.

Y/N watched how Bucky put away the flowers and scooped the cat onto his lap. He squinted his eyes at the ball of fur and spoke something. She hadn't had a clue what he said but it was probably along the lines, "Are you lost, little one?" He scratched its chin and neck while trying to see if it has a collar.

After so long of seeing that deep grumpy-looking frown on his face, Bucky finally graced her with another smile when the cat tried to rub its nose on his cheeks. Its whiskers tickled his nose and had trigger a laugh out of him.

God, Y/N had never been so desperate to be a cat in her life. She wanted to be that cat; sitting on his lap like she owns that place, making him smile and laugh like that. She wanted nothing more that to do so; to please him in a way that would make her own heart full.

Her daydream was cut short though, when a heavy scent of cigarettes and rum invaded her space. In fact it was so thick and potent, but considering the lanky alpha was sitting right next to her it was inevitable.

Y/N didn't want to be rude; because if she just walk away to find a different spot to sit at, then it would seem rude to the man. Her heighten sense of smell was to be blamed, not the man who was simply sitting next to her, enjoying the park as much as everybody else does.

So, she stayed.

But in those few minutes that she stayed, she might have re-adjust her mask a few times, as if it would help to lessen the scent. But, she did it anyway. And that was all she did. Yet somehow, it managed to rub the alpha in a wrong way.

"Ya got a problem with my scent, beta?" He snarled, clearly he was drunk. And a drunk alpha in the middle of the day was never a good sign.

Though she was relieved to know that the scent blockers worked just fine. Otherwise, she might push the alpha into a rut if he got even a single whiff of her scent.

The alpha growled as she put some space between them instead of answering his question. "Are you even listening to me?! Answer me, you dumb bitch!" His aggressiveness went from zero to hundred real quick when he yanked her by the hand, pulling her closer towards him.

Y/N's book fell from the force of his strength and she yelped in pain and fear. Though she usually know how to put up a brave face and fight back, but the sudden change of his action and emotion didn't gave her time to prepare her; mentally, physically.

With her omega tendencies on default, her body coward to his force and her voice tremble, "L-let me go!" She tried to twist her hand to escape but his grasp only grew stronger.

He pulled her to stand up, "You think a beta like you can look down on me? You and that omega are the same! Bunch of good for thing bitches. Gonna teach you a good lesson for disrespecting an alpha like me!" He roared with words of his drunken concerns, truth of his wounded ego.

Her blood pumped faster through her veins and her breaths increases behind her mask. When she saw his hand rose, Y/N shut her eyes, whimpering in fear as she turned her head away, waiting for the pain strike her but it never happened.

It between those short heavy breaths, she caught a whiff of Bucky's scent. And surely, it gave her the comfort she needed to calm down, guiding her to open her eyes and witness her saviour stopping the unhinged alpha's strike.

Then what happend next was so fast; the way Bucky forced him to release her, and the way the left of his gloved hand wrapped around the alpha's neck, choking the air out of his wind pipe.

Bucky growled something in the alpha's ear, but Y/N couldn't hear it over her own beating heart. She didn't need to, not when the pale look of the man's face says it all. As soon as Bucky loosen his grip, the other alpha stumbled backwards and made a run for his life.

That does tend to happened when Bucky was literally threatened to tear his limbs apart if he touch the woman ever again.

When the panic didn't die like Y/N hoped for, Bucky quickly came to her side; respectfully close while avoiding any sort of skinship. He whispered words of comfort and sweet nothings, "It's okay, you're okay. You're safe now."

His voice was like magic, especially when it managed to calm her so easily. Y/N can feel herself melting, like a marshmallow hovering over the flames; like an ice cream under the summer sun. She took a deep breath of his sweet scent and exhaled a long sigh, "Thank you. Thank you for that." she said.

Bucky bent down to pick up her book and patted the dust off, "It's no big deal, here." He handed the book. She gladly took it from his hand, gripping it tight to her chest.

Her head was still fuzzy from the rush of adrenaline, she couldn't think of a single coherent thought other than gratitude towards her saviour, "Yeah, thank you." She probably didn't even notice that she was talking to the alpha she was crushing on the whole day.

Looking at her shaken state, Bucky was worried of her, "Are you going to be okay?" He asked.

Y/N's mind didn't process his question fast enough to for a confident reply to form, "Huh? Yeah, of course. I'll be fine. Couple of deep breaths should do the trick."

"Are you sure?" Bucky was sceptical but she quickly assured him, "Absolutely!"

He nodded slowly as if she failed to convince him, yet he didn't want to push her too much, "If you say so..."

She let out a another long sigh and said, "Thank you again, really. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Bucky simply chuckled at her words, "You know, you've said 'thank you' way too many times now, doll. Plus, it is an utmost honor of an alpha to save a damsel in distress." He jest.

Which was quickly agreed by a mewl coming from his chest, "Meow!" Y/N didn't even notice the white cat nestling comfortably in his leather jacket, albeit it was zipped up until only its' head peeking out of the dark fabric.

"See? She agrees." Bucky shrugged as if the cat's opinion was the only valid opinion in this situation.

"I did say it a lot, did I?" Y/N cooed as she pet the cat on its' head, smiling at the softness of its' fur against her skin before looking back at the blue eyes of his, "Sorry." She instinctively apologized. 

Bucky shook his head and reminded her, "Don't be."

That was when Bucky's phone rang, a call from Steve, "Hey, you're here? Where are you? Oh there. Yeah, I can see you, punk. You don't need wave at me like that. Yeah, I'll be right there. Please don't let Sam join you. God stop that is fucking embarrassing." He muttered as he looked over how his friends were literally halfway out of the car window, waving at him like a bunch of kids.

Bucky snuck his phone back into his pocket and said, "I'd offer you a ride but the car's full with dumbasses and I wouldn't recommend a sweet thing like you to associate with them in any way."

He managed to pull a short laugh out of her, "Oh, no need to do so. I live close by. Don't need to worry about me just..." her trails stopped mid way.

Only for Bucky to continue with a question, "...Just??"

"Do you mind giving those to me?" Y/N pointed at the flowers in his hand. She knew he was contemplating to throw it away because he had been glancing at the trash way too many times at the first couple of minutes when he sat on that bench across from her.

Y/N noticed how his expression changed, he looked confused but didn't frown upon the idea. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she waited patiently for his respond. But he just continued to stare at her, almost blankly but not quite lost. It was as if he was mesmerized by something.

The silence was getting louder than the crowds surrounding them so she decided to explain, "You see, I've never received flowers from anybody before. So, I'm curious how it feels like to receive one." She tried to come up with excuses, though she was still telling the truth. No one she dated had ever gave her flower before, probably deeming it as old-fashioned.

But, she loves those old fashioned gesture the most.

Y/N saw how he hesitated when he stared at the bouquet, his face getting tense by the seconds. She recognize that expression, she knew right away he was holding back his feelings.

But it quickly shifted into a gentle smile, "Pretty flowers for the pretty lady." He whispered under his breath. Bucky didn't waste his time hesitating this time and handed the bouquet to her.

Though she was asking for it but she didn't expect him to really give it to her. This was the first time she ever got flowers from a man. An alpha that she was pretty much head over heels for nonetheless.

Letting her emotions unfiltered, "Thank you!" she squealed as she reach out her hand. As she brought the bouquet closer to her face, she pulled down her mask, inhaling the sweet fragrant of the soft pastel peonies.

Even if her lower face hidden behind the flowers, Bucky swore he saw a burst of sparkles beamed from her upon receiving those flowers. It fascinated him because he never knew that someone could be this happy just from getting such small gift, from a complete stranger he might add.

For a second there, he thought that he would've give her a whole garden of flowers just to see her shine like that again. It felt so good and somehow fulfilling to see her happy like this.

Y/N unknowingly smiled as she let herself lost in the intoxicating scent. And when her eyes fluttered open, a deep chuckle distracted her from the trance. Looking up, as he eyes peeking through the blooming flowers, she finally saw that endearing smile that she wanted to see.

But that wonderful fleeting moment didn't last long as she was hoping for when she heard a group of man shouting for the alpha, "Hey, loverboy! We have a birthday party to get to. Natasha would be pissed if we're late. Again!"

As Bucky shouted back his own sassy counter, Y/N's head was filled with thoughts of kissing him. She didn't particularly know why but she had the need to do it.

Why would she ever do this to a man – who probably currently thinking that she was a creep – that she barely knew?

Even with those unconscious questions, she found her body moved on its own.

When he turned around, Y/N was already on her tip toe, her face was so close to his, while her hand softly cupped his chubby cheeks. She pressed a tender kiss on one of the side soft sides and prayed to God that he couldn't hear how her heart was desprete to escape the confinement of her ribcage.

Y/N placed her mask back before pulling away, only to preen at how she managed to stun him into a red mess of shock, "Thank you for saving me, alpha." Her eyes curved as a sign of a smile before she turn around, almost running away.

She certainly didn't give him a chance to at least know her name, let alone get to know her.

Midway through her path, Y/N abruptly stopped and turned around, her eyes met his curious ones and her heart fluttered, "Thank you for the flowers! I love them!" she shouted with a wide smile on her lips and brightest expression of her face, even if it was blocked by the mask.

Though Bucky could probably translate her eagerness and sincerity from how animatedly joyful she was waving at him. He smiled as he watched the girl ran away with her small steps, almost resembling a hopping bunny.

As Y/N skipped her way home, her lips aches for more of the alpha's softness, her heart yearned for his comforting presense and her glands certainly burned for his mark. And even though she went home not knowing his name, or his contact number. She believed that if he was truly her fated mate, then they will surely meet again someday.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for loving this couple as much as I do, guys. I noticed a lot of you have been requesting chubby alpha!bucky ever since I first published the first one. So I hope you enjoyed this one. More to come from them. But meanwhile, drop your thoughts?

[kamaluhkhan]

ours are the moments i play in the dark

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: ANGST (im so sorry in advance...); flashback is from conrad's POV and the rest is from reader's perspective; mentions of sex + losing virginities (nothing too detailed/graphic); reader has an ex who's referred to with gender neutral pronouns; reader and other characters drink alcohol (pomegranate margaritas ;) ); hints of alcoholism (reader's mother); jealous reader who's trying her best; pining conrad who's a bit of a jerk; reader and conrad fight A Lot (they will make up eventually i promise!!)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my conrad series so far! i love these characters and writing their stories, and it means so much that others are enjoying reading my work. there is one more part left and i promise it will be happier so stay tuned :)) i haven't watched the last two episodes of season 2, but i'm planning on writing a bit for that, too!! thank you x infinity ♡

part one | part two

i lost a friend / like keys in a sofa / like a wallet in the backseat / like ice in the summer heat (finneas, "i lost a friend")

now — summer, age 18

“you know, you guys aren’t fooling anyone.”

“and what exactly do you mean by that, steven?” you challenge, taking another sip of your soda. 

it’s the fourth of july and susannah invited you over for her annual celebration. susannah always hosted fun parties, so you were more than happy to accept because it meant eating some good food, listening to an upbeat playlist, watching some fireworks, and just relaxing. essentially, susannah always delivered the best of summer, rolled into a carefully planned event. 

the sun was shining, and everyone was having a good time, including you — at least, until you saw conrad and nicole in the pool, engaging in some serious PDA. you immediately got out of the pool and went to sulk near the drink table, where you were happily alone until steven came over to join you.

“i’m just saying, man. you and con are definitely going out of your way to prove that you’re mad at each other,” steven explains. “but we all know how much you care about each other.”

steven is right about the first part: you and conrad had done your best to avoid each other since the incident at nicole’s party and its fallout. if you and jeremiah had planned to go surfing and he invited conrad, you would always back out at the last minute. if you were over at the fishers helping belly pick out an outfit for a date with cam, conrad would conveniently stay in his room. not to mention, any time the two of you did cross paths — which was rare, but jeremiah and belly were persistent in requesting that all five of you spend time together, like the old days, they would say — it resulted in meaningless, petty arguments. the two of you had always been competitive and very comfortable teasing each other, but the difference was that now, your interactions were no longer good-natured.

you thought steven, belly, and jeremiah hadn’t noticed, but you should have given them more credit. to anyone who knew you, it was pretty obvious that something was up between you and conrad, even if they didn’t know what exactly it was.

“there’s a thin line between love and hate. and right now you guys are that line.”

“thank you for your insight,” you say sarcastically. “be sure to include that in your college essay — i’m sure princeton would love to have you.”

steven rolls his eyes at you, just as nicole arrives at the drink table.

“hey guys,” she greets. she reaches over to grab two cans of peach iced tea before you stop her. 

“conrad’s allergic to peaches,” you say. “so you might wanna get him something else.”

nicole looks at you for a second before nodding and reaching for a can of sprite instead. 

“thanks,” she says as she walks away. 

once she’s gone, steven gives you a pointed look.

“what?” you scoff. 

steven just shakes his head. “love and hate,” he muses, leaving you to join his parents and shayla near the pool. 

you then decide to go inside briefly, where you find belly and jeremiah, pouring vodka into a blender.

“we’re making pomegranate margaritas!” belly exclaims, practically giddy. 

“well, you gotta use the good blender for that.” conrad seems to appear out of nowhere from behind you, instantly reaching for the aforementioned good blender and placing it on the counter.

you were already in a sour mood from seeing him with nicole earlier, but belly looks at you with hopeful eyes, and you remember what steven said earlier, so you mentally promise that you would play nice with conrad. you owe belly and the others that much after being absent for so long: a carefree summer, just like the ones you used to know. 

you imagine that jeremiah sent conrad a similar pleading look because, miraculously, you and conrad don’t argue with each other as you help mix pomegranate margaritas for everyone. you actually engage in playful banter and laugh at the other’s jokes. you even feel sorry for him when his father, who wasn’t supposed to be here, walks in. you can feel the good mood slipping, so you suggest heading to the beach for a change of scenery.

belly had invited cam and a few more girls who are doing the debutante thing with her, and with steven bringing shayla and conrad bringing nicole (which, you are totally fine with, of course, especially after a pomegranate margarita), you had a pretty solid party forming on the beach, away from the adults. 

of all people, belly suggests some drinking games. it’s all a blur of sand, laughter, and vodka spiked fruit juice. once you were all the perfect amount of tired and tipsy, the group settles down, and gigi suggests a different game.

“we should play truth or dare.”

“oh my gosh we should!” belly smiles, tapping your leg enthusiastically. “remember? we used to play it all the time!”

you smile back. “of course i do.” 

when you were kids, you, belly, steven, jeremiah, and conrad would play truth or dare any chance you got. it was never very serious, mostly goofy pranks and harmless questions. you had all grown up since then, and somewhere along the way, truth or dare had become less innocent than it used to be.

“y/n,” one of the debs — dara, if you remembered correctly — turns to you. it was the first time your name had been called, and in all honesty, you were perfectly happy just sitting back in the sun and sipping the rest of your drink. “truth or dare?” 

you choose truth, mostly to avoid having to get up from your very comfortable seat on the sand.

“are you a virgin?”

your mouth suddenly feels dry. you’re not ashamed of your answer, but it doesn’t help that you can see conrad glaring at you from the corner of your eye. you take another sip of your drink before answering. 

“um, not really.” 

“it’s yes or no question,” nicole says. 

“then my answer’s no,” you declare.

“what?” belly screeches. she sits up straighter to turn towards you, and in the process spills some pomegranate margarita on her dress. “i can’t believe you had sex and didn’t tell me? when? with who? what was it like?” her cheeks are slightly flushed. a sober belly would have likely asked you in private, or at the very least, not in front of people you barely knew. in that moment, you almost regret the pomegranate margaritas.

almost. because maybe it’s the silence and everyone’s expectant stares, or the adrenaline you feel from winning most of the drinking games, or the effects of the drinks themselves, but you convince yourself that it’s as good a time as any to tell the story. a sober you would have known to tread more carefully given the context; that would have been about three pomegranate margaritas ago, though. 

“it’s kind of a cliche story, honestly,” you start. “it happened last summer. it was raining that night, so we were hanging out in the back of my teammate’s van, just talking, and one thing led to another….we didn’t plan to do anything, but we got caught in the heat of the moment.” you choose your words carefully, deliberately avoiding eye contact with conrad.

“how was it though?” belly asks, leaning in closer.

you shrug. “a little awkward, i guess? neither of us had sex before then, and we were both figuring stuff out. like, he couldn’t open the condom wrapper because he was so flustered, so i had to help him. it was nice, though,” you admit. “when the rain cleared, we went out to stargaze and fell asleep on the beach.”

belly sighs. “so romantic.”

“you’re right about it being cliche,” steven laughs. he has an arm thrown around shayla, and uses the other to gesture towards conrad. “conrad, man, that sounds almost exactly like your first time.”

you feel your entire body heat up, and it's not because of the sun shining down on you. conrad’s gaze finally meets yours — for a split second only, but it’s enough for steven to notice. 

“holy shit! it all makes sense now!” steven exclaims, suddenly standing up.

jeremiah frowns, looking between you, conrad, and steven. “what makes sense?”

“i’ve been trying to figure out why y/n and conrad have been so weird around each other this summer, but it’s obvious now: they lost their virginities to each other. they had sex!”

nicole stiffens and narrows her eyes at conrad. “you told me you never hooked up with y/n.”

“well, that’s definitely not true.”

“belly,” you warn, looking over to conrad once more. his cheeks are turning red, and you imagine a storm brewing beneath his dark blue eyes. 

“i don’t know about last summer,” belly continues, completely oblivious to the tension building. “but i do know that they kissed at your party.”

“i knew it,” nicole scoffs, pushing away from conrad. “i knew it.” with one last poisonous glare towards conrad, she storms off.

conrad sends you an equally poisonous look before chasing after her. the party dissolves shortly after.

feeling defeated, you lie back in the sand, close your eyes, and let the sun shine down on you once more, taking deep breaths to slow down your heart rate.

call it karma or a cruel twist of fate or just a really shitty coincidence, but you’re finally the one left alone on the beach.

then — summer, age 17

conrad was more than a little surprised to see your name appear on his phone. it wasn't like you were completely off the grid — you texted, though infrequently, and followed each other on socials. he scrolled through his instagram feed and saw the occasional picture of you wearing a costume at a halloween party or sipping hot chocolate on a snowy day. photos that never quite fit the image he had of you in his mind: in cutoff denim shorts and a swimsuit and layers of sunscreen, with sand in your hair and popsicle stains on your lips.

“hey,” he answered after only three rings. 

"hey fisher, any friday night plans?"

he told you he was working on his college essay.

“homework on a friday night in the middle of summer,” you tsked. “i never realized how much of a nerd you are.”

conrad laughed. “i mean, that’s on you for just realizing that.”

 “fair enough,” you hummed, and conrad could practically hear your smile through the phone. “if you’re in the mood for something more fun, look out your window.”

conrad wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but you standing in the driveway of his summer house was pretty low on the list. you waved at him frantically, telling him to hurry up and open his window.

he was still in awe as you climbed through. conrad tried to memorize the image of you then and there, standing in front of him in his bedroom: wearing dolphin shorts and a light jacket, with chipped turquoise nail polish and a bright smile.

"you drove all the way here?" 

"well, they haven't cracked the science behind teleportation yet," you say playfully. "so i didn't have many options."

"i can't believe you're here," conrad smiled, and that’s when you finally hugged him. he held on tightly, afraid you would leave at any moment if he let go. you smelled the same, like chlorine and vanilla sugar.

once you broke away from the hug, you pointed towards something behind him, pinned to his bulletin board. conrad followed your gaze and felt his cheeks heat up.

“i missed you, too, connie,” you teased, eyes lingering on the newspaper clipping of your swim team making it to nationals thanks to your record time. 

“mom showed it to me,” he explained, the smile on your face making his heart beat out of his chest. “she’s so proud of her little mermaid.”

your smile fell, just a bit, but enough for conrad to notice a shift in your mood. you always did a good job at hiding the weight of the world on your shoulders, at least around the others. not so much around him.

you sighed and sat down on his bed. “you know, after that swim meet, my dad lectured me about not being fast enough,” you explained. “winning by only a millisecond apparently wasn’t enough to impress college scouts, at least according to him.”

“your dad’s a jerk,” conrad said instantly. he sat down next to you. “and an idiot, if he can’t see how amazing you are.”

“thanks, connie,” you whispered. it looked like you were going to say more; instead, you picked up his laptop. “wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were working on your college essay. you really are a nerd.”

“shut up,” conrad laughed, nudging you with his shoulder and trying to grab the laptop from you.

you nudged him back. “it’s a compliment! schools go crazy for trust fund nerds.”

“yeah, yeah.” conrad waved you off. “so, you’re in cousins for the summer?”

all you did was smile softly and close the laptop, finally handing it back to him.

conrad’s heart burst with joy. because not only were you there — finally there, after all that time away — but you were staying. his mom would always muse about summers in cousins being magical, but conrad didn’t quite believe her until you were gone and he felt that magic fade away. 

“do you wanna go downstairs? belly’s watching it happened one night with my mom and laurel.”

“as much as i love susannah’s favourite movie,” you started, and conrad’s heart soared again at you remembering his mom’s favourite movie. “i thought maybe it could just be the two of us tonight? maybe we could go for a drive.”

that’s how the two of you ended up at mermaid grove — a secluded stretch of beach about an hour away from your houses. it was near the mall your mothers sometimes went to, and during one of those excursions when you were young, all the kids wandered off and found it. the only time you’d been there was during the day and with jeremiah, belly, steven, and your siblings, so it felt different then, at night with just the two of you.

it started raining on the drive over — which only took 45 minutes without traffic — so you were hanging out in the back of your van. the van actually belonged to one of your teammate’s cousin who was somewhat of a hippie, you said, which explained the smell of weed and bohemian decor — battery powered rainbow fairy lights, colourful pillows, an elaborately patterned tapestry. the space was definitely intimate, or maybe it felt that way because you and conrad were sitting as close as possible to each other, shoulders touching and one of your legs tangled with his. he was scrolling through the pictures on your phone of your last swim meet in california, where you'd gotten the chance to visit stanford, while you were peeling an orange. 

"you would love it there, connie,” you gushed. you dug your fingers into the orange peel, and the smell of citrus started to fill the air. “the beaches are beautiful and the waves are amazing. it’s like, always summer.” 

conrad sometimes felt like summer was the only season of the year that he was truly awake, truly living. everything else felt like a dream, one that he would always describe to you in mundane detail; conrad even kept a small journal throughout the year, writing things down that he needed to tell you once you reunited every june. but one journal had turned to two, almost three, and conrad was trying really hard to not resent you for that.

“anyways, i think i’m going to apply in the fall.”

conrad stopped scrolling through your phone, pausing at a picture you had taken of a lemon tree. “doesn’t your dad have princeton lined up?”

“you make it sound like he bought my way in, when it was actually hours and hours and hours of training to get that scholarship. on the national best swim team.” you mimicked your father’s patronising tone for that last part; conrad hadn’t seen him in years, and he could still recognize it. 

“you’re right, though. my dad would flip his shit. even if i got in with a scholarship, it’s so far away and i have the twins to look after, but a girl can dream, right?”

“i feel that,” conrad assured. you gave him a sad smile, knowing that his dad was as intense about football as yours was about swimming. the worst part was that you both loved your respective sports, until they became a burden. you both had other burdens to deal with, too, when it came to your families. 

“in an ideal world, the two of us wouldn’t have to worry about anything else. we’d live in a place by the beach, surf every day, and hang out in the sun while sipping ice-cold, fresh lemonade.” just like we used to, conrad added in his head.

“in an ideal world,” you agreed. “we’d also adopt four dogs, each named after one of the beatles. you can teach them how to play the guitar.”

conrad laughed. “if i couldn’t teach you, there is no way i can teach one dog, let alone four.”

“well, they wouldn’t get distracted by your dreamy blue eyes like i did.” you winked at conrad, and handed him the freshly peeled orange before he even had time to blush.

“take it,” he protested. “you drove all this way — you should eat something.”

you shook your head and placed the orange in his hand before you pulled out another fruit from your bag. “i picked some of these up on the way here — best peaches on the east coast.” you took a big bite. “remember the summer we found out that you had a mild peach allergy?” you asked, juice dripping down your chin. you wiped it with the sleeve of the varsity jacket you wore.

conrad laughed at the memory. belly and steven had brought back candy from their trip to toronto. conrad practically inhaled an entire bag of fuzzy peaches, and didn’t realize that they weren’t supposed to make your mouth itchy — the “fuzzy” part wasn’t literal. that felt like so long ago, but there you and conrad were, settling back into each other like no time had passed.

as the night grew darker, you and conrad shifted closer to each other. conrad ate orange slice after orange slice as you devoured your peach, all while looking through the photos on your phone. you’d occasionally interject with a short story or comment, and there were still raindrops falling on the roof, but for the most part, there was nothing but a comfortable silence between you. 

you moved to wrap the orange peel and peach pit in a napkin, just as conrad swiped onto a photo of someone kissing your cheek.

“who’s that?”

you leaned over to check. “oh. that’s sam.”

“are you dating?” conrad asked, trying to seem casual about it. just a friend asking another friend about their romantic situation. as a friend. 

“we were,” you explained, sitting back next to him. “they broke up with me a few months ago.”

conrad sighed in relief, which he hoped you didn’t notice. “sorry.”

you shrugged. “it’s fine. apparently i’m emotionally distant.”

that wasn’t much of a surprise to conrad. sam might have been an idiot for breaking up with you, but they were spot on with the emotionally distant part. out of all the time you’d known each other, conrad had only seen you cry once, maybe twice. you were usually the one wiping away tears and putting on a brave face, inadvertently, or maybe purposefully, hiding your own vulnerability. 

still, that wasn’t something conrad was about to stir up.

“what? you?” he joked instead.

“shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes, but the wry smile on your face gave you away. “how about you? broke any hearts this past year?”

conrad thought for a moment. there was aubrey, who his football teammate said had a major crush on him. they had been texting for a while now, and were on the edge of maybe becoming something. but then, there you were, stirring up feelings conrad had long buried — or, at least, tried to. if part of his head was always in summer, then part of his heart always belonged to you. 

“no.”

“got your heart broken?”

he thought back to a few weeks ago, when he ran into your mom at the grocery store, and she said you wouldn’t be coming to cousins again that summer. you hadn’t spoken at all to each other for a month or two before that.

“no,” he lied.

you hummed, and took your phone away from him. 

“wanna hear something trippy?” you asked suddenly. you always had a knack for changing the course of a conversation to where you wanted it to go.

“what?”

“well, since it takes a while for light from space to reach us, when we stargaze, we’re actually looking back in time. like, the star that’s closest to earth — other than the sun — is four light years away. or is it five?” you paused. “anyways, if the sky was clear and we could see that star, it would mean we’d actually be looking at that star from summer, five years ago.”

“very trippy,” conrad agreed. “it’s like a cosmic time machine.”

you hummed. “do you ever wonder what our past selves back then, at like 12 or 13, would think of us now? i think about those summers and how magical they felt.” 

magical. you turned to smile at him softly, and conrad couldn't help but agree.

“i always thought you’d be my first kiss,” you whispered. 

that threw conrad off guard, and it took him a few seconds to regain balance. the van suddenly felt too small and the lingering scent of fruit shared between you two, mixed with the familiar smell of chlorine and vanilla from how close you were sitting to him, became overwhelming. his heart was beating out of his chest — not because he didn’t feel the same way, but because he did.

conrad knew what his 13 year old self would think of him now: he’d be up in arms over his awkward pause, screaming to finally tell you how he felt then, and how those feelings hadn’t really left. how you made him feel safe, excited, confused and angry. how there was a space in his heart just for you, and it was painfully empty when you left, but now that you’re there again —

“sorry,” you said, cutting through the silence. you subtly shifted away from conrad. “i didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“you didn’t,” conrad answered instantly. he registered how you were now slightly hunched over and brought your knees to your chest, how you bit your lip and avoided eye contact — a few hints that you felt uncomfortable, deflated even at his lack of response. 

so, he moved closer to you and gently placed a hand on your knee. 

“you didn’t make things weird,” conrad assured once more. you were brave, he decided: for a lot of things you did, but right then for being so honest, so vulnerable. it inspired him to do the same. “i mean, this might make things weird, but i always thought you’d be my first…you know. at least, ever since i knew what sex even was.”

you finally turned towards him, your lips slightly parted. 

“yeah,” you breathed. “me too.”

conrad’s eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“do you still want to —”

“yes. i - i mean, no pressure, but if you still want to —”

“i do.”

you smiled then and conrad felt himself do the same. 

when you kissed for the first time, it was like rainclouds parted and the stars came out, shining bright in infinite darkness. the two of you became tangled up in each other: you sat in his lap, legs on either side of his waist, your chests pressed together and your fingers tangled in his hair, which drove him crazy. conrad let his hands explore your body, gently grazing the skin under your shirt. his lips tingled from the remnants of peach juice on yours, but he kept kissing you. 

it was awkward and exhilarating at the same time. you asked each other if what you were doing felt good and right and were slightly embarrassed if the answer was no, but still adjusted if needed. at one point, conrad was fumbling with the condom wrapper and you had to open it with your teeth; he jokingly pointed out how you used to do the same with packs of sour patch kids and you giggled before kissing him again.

the two of you lay down on the floor once you were done. your head rested on conrad’s chest and he had his arm around you, idly tracing shapes on your skin with his fingertips. he craned his neck down to look at you.

even in the dim lighting and after years apart, you looked the same. even if you’d never been that close before, at least not in the same way you had just been, you felt familiar. 

you tilted you head towards him and smiled. 

“what?” 

there was something about the way you looked at him that still made him blush, and conrad hoped that with the lack of bright light, you wouldn’t notice. 

“sounds like the rain stopped,” he said. “wanna go stargazing?”

it was slightly chilly, so you let conrad borrow your varsity jacket, even if it didn’t fit perfectly. the sky was clear and full of stars. you spent the rest of the night there together, on the beach. 

in the morning, conrad woke up before you. he watched as you took slow, deep breaths with your eyes still closed. you looked so peaceful — until the sound of your alarm prompted you to wake up.

“shit,” you exhaled, your eyes wide once you noticed the sun had risen. “what time is it?” 

you searched frantically for your phone, only to find it right next to you.

“shit,” you repeated once you checked the time. you stood up right away, sand kicking from underneath your feet. “this is bad.”

“what —”

conrad didn’t have time to even ask you what was wrong because you bolted to the van. he followed you.

“what’s wrong?”

you looked at conrad, brows furrowed. “i have to go. i don’t want to leave you, but i have to go.”

“it’s okay,” conrad reassured. he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your cheek. “i’ll be here when you get back.”

“i’m…” you step away from him. “i’m not coming back.”

“what do you mean?” he tried to steady his voice, but a dangerous mix of hurt and anger threatened to wash over him. conrad’s heart dropped, knowing all too well what was likely coming next, but he hoped, wished, that it wouldn’t be like before.

“i’ve got a swim meet in boston,” you exhaled. “but i can drive you home on my way there.”

“you’ll come back to cousins after,” conrad declared, as if saying it out could change what would happen next. “you said you’d be here for the summer.” 

you shrugged, stumbling over your words. “technically, i didn’t say that. you just assumed and — ”

“and you wanted me to believe it, right?”

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “just — let me drive you home, connie.”

the use of his childhood nickname — the one he secretly despised, except when it came from you — was what made him snap.

“i should have known,” he snarled. “god, i should have known. you don’t care about me, about us. swimming over everything, right?”

“that’s not true.” your eyes opened, but you still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “i do care, but you know the pressure i’m under —”

“fine. you want to talk about pressure?” conrad laughed, bitterly, all his frustration bleeding out and pooling at your feet. “my mom had cancer, and you couldn’t even be there for me. texts and phone calls only do so much when you’re watching the woman who raised you wither away to nothing.”

your eyes softened slightly, finally looking at him. you took a step forward, but conrad took another two back. 

“conrad —”

 “no. don’t,” he snapped, making you stop. “why did you even come here?”

“i was close by and…” you paused. “i guess i just needed to come back, even just for a bit.” 

"figures," conrad scoffed. “you only care when it’s convenient.” 

“that’s not true,” you repeated. 

conrad waited a second for you say something more, but you didn’t. 

“well, i’m really glad you got what you needed,” he mocked. “tell me, does nostalgia and sex help you swim faster? impress college scouts? make daddy proud of you?” 

you stiffened slightly. “don’t be an asshole.”

“no, no. congratulations!” he clapped to emphasize his point. “i’m so glad i could help you! guess you just needed a quick fuck before your big competition for some good luck. hope it works out in your favour.”

there was so much venom laced in his words, and he could tell you noticed. you looked at him like he was a stranger. 

“fuck you,” you finally said. your voice was shaking slightly and it looked like tears were forming in your eyes. “you can walk home, for all i care.” 

without another word, you got into the car and drove away. conrad watched your car become smaller in the distance as he stood alone at the beach, wearing your jacket and replaying every word he said.

now 

it’s hours after susannah’s fourth of july celebration. the adrenaline and alcohol from early wore off, and you’re sitting on your front porch, sipping tea from your favourite mug. you were hoping to relax, but the sight of conrad fisher storming up to you threatens that.

“where do you get off, saying what you did earlier?” 

even under the low light of the porch, you can see that his face is red with anger. he came here to argue, but you’re too tired to really care.

“well, shit, conrad,” you sigh. “don’t blame me. blame — blame truth or dare and pomegranate margaritas and steven for being so goddamn perceptive.” 

“you lied,” he accuses, crossing his arms. “you said you didn’t tell belly about us kissing at nicole’s party.”

“at least i didn’t lie to my girlfriend,” you point out, your voice dull from exhaustion. conrad is momentarily at a loss for words, furrowing his brow even further, so you decide to steer the conversation in another direction — away. “look, i just had to pick up my drunk mother from the bar, so i’m really not in the mood for this conversation.”

you move to leave, but conrad grabs your left wrist before you reach the door. the sudden action startles you, and you release the mug you were holding in your right hand. it falls to the ground, the break clean, and the rest of your tea spills onto the porch. you exhale sharply, turning back to face conrad.

“i don’t care,” he snaps. “you fucked up earlier today. you never should have mentioned that night. talking about it like it actually meant something to you.”

“you know what, conrad? maybe it’s hard for you to believe, but that night actually meant something to me.” you laugh bitterly, feeling more awake than before. “and, yeah, now i’ve spent so much time regretting it. because maybe i hoped that we’d start dating, but even if that didn’t happen, i never expected to lose my best friend.”

conrad rolls his eyes. “i don’t know how you can stand there and call me your best friend. best friends don’t leave each other —”

“fine, i did leave,” you interrupt. your voice is slightly raised, and you can’t help but feel a new rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins. the fact that conrad is standing in front of you, suggesting that you were the one to blame for the hostility between you — that made you frustrated, angry, even. 

“i had other shit going on,” you continue. “and maybe i didn’t handle the situation well at first — that’s on me, sure. but i wasn’t the one who ignored texts and sent calls straight to voicemails. i’m not the one who’s spending the summer avoiding everyone who knows them because they’re too scared of others finding out the truth. i don’t know who you are this summer, but i know the real you, conrad.”

“no, you don’t.”

by now, you’ve walked closer, standing only a few inches in front of him. if you reached out, you’d be able to brush the bangs away from his forehead, but you don’t. 

“i do know you,” you assert. “in fact, i hate how much i know you. i know that “yesterday” by the beatles is your favourite song, and the first one you learned on the guitar. i know that you’re crazy good at chess, but let jeremiah win sometimes when your dad is watching. i know that you love playing football, but hate that you’re expected to play it. i know that i hurt you last year, so you had to ignore me because that was easier than admitting how you really feel because — because you’re scared.” 

“you’re wrong.” conrad stares at you, his gaze heavy on yours. 

you shake your head. “i know that you didn’t tell anyone about what happened between us because it meant something to you. and that really scares you, too.” 

“you’re…you’re wrong.” conrad’s voice wavers a bit, his eyes soften ever so slightly, and you know you’ve struck a chord. 

“i’m not,” you say. “and, honestly? i’m so fucking tired of waiting for you to realize that. i don’t care anymore. whatever was between us during all those summers, it's obviously not here anymore."

“you’re wrong,” he’s like a broken record, stuck on the same lyric. 

"stop blaming me for fucking this up," you continue. "it's your mess, too, conrad. and i’m so fucking tired."

it’s late, and it’s dark, and you can’t bring yourself to stay here anymore. without saying anything else, you step over the broken porcelain of your favourite mug and into your house, leaving conrad alone on your poorly lit porch.

when the sun rises and you go outside in the morning, the pieces are gone. 

[delulustateofmind]

Between Worlds Part III

A/n: Wasn't planning on writing more, but your support changed my mind! The series now has a title. Thanks to all who liked and reblogged the first two fics. You're amazing! Hope you all enjoy the third part :)) I did change the POV to make it flow nicer, had a coworker edit the fic for me too, let me know any thoughts!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five: Coming soon!

Summary: Reader wakes up in ACOTAR a year after the war with Hybern. A bunch of events happen that leads to them waking up in a one night stand with Azriel.

Trigger Warnings: Maybe slightly scary Azriel but none that I can think of besides slight angst.

Word Count: 1.6k

It was supposed to be a simple one-night stand with a handsome stranger, a way to steer clear of the story’s main characters. But, after a few too many drinks—Sake Bombs to be exact—I woke up in the bed of the Night Court’s spymaster, one of Prythian’s most dangerous men. One word stood out to me, echoing in my mind. The shock was clear on my face.

“‘Mate’?” you stammered. A mate bond between us? That was impossible. You weren’t even supposed to be in this world. Was the tightening in your chest from the bond or just your own anxiety?

Azriel chuckled, looking down at you. You could tell that he saw through your pathetic attempt at hiding your feelings. I mean, you could feel the invisible thread pulling you together. You could feel every emotion he was expressing through the bond. Azriel was the spymaster; he was trained to read every emotion and find any information he could get.

“You felt it, didn’t you? The love and affection that I am sending you.” His voice was laced with amusement as he watched you squirm a bit. “You’re not getting out of it that easily you know. Mate bonds are sacred after all.” His expression turned serious as he said this, looking down at you.

“This is going to sound selfish,” he said softly, not meeting your gaze as he looked around the room. “Please, give it a chance. I have been waiting so long to find my mate and here you are.” A soft, breathy laugh escaped his lips. “Who knew I’d meet my mate drunk at a pleasure hall? Never in my five hundred years would I have expected that. The Mother must work in mysterious ways.” He finally met your gaze, his gaze held warmth but seemed to be evaluating your every move.

That’s right, he is around five hundred years old and just had a mate bond snap…which means that he probably wants to have a ceremony as soon as possible. I could feel the anxiety creeping up. I know he can sense and feel every emotion. What would he do, if he found out that I am not even from this world? That I am not his true mate?

You somehow manage to blurt out without stammering, “I…want to form a bargain with you.”

“A bargain?” His expression darkened with curiosity.

You shifted nervously in the bed, a knot had built in your chest, and you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. You needed him to say yes, you needed time to figure out your situation, even if you had to throw a bargain that he would more than likely say no to. A bargain that would make him feel rejected.

His gaze held yours for a moment, the only movement being his eyes as they scanned your every expression. “What would you like to bargain with me about, y/n?”

“First, I want to make sure the ceremony date isn’t for another six months, preferably longer. Second, you cannot use your shadows to spy on me. They cannot access my room or any of my items. Lastly, I need three months before I meet your family or before you can meet mine.” You could feel the anxiety brewing in your stomach. His expression showed a tiny amount of sadness and curiosity. You felt as if he knew you were hiding something but was choosing to ignore it, for now. “Is there anything you would like to add?”

Azriel stared at you incredulously. You had wanted the ceremony to be delayed, and not only did you not want him to access your personal life, but you wanted three months to go by before he saw your family, or you saw his. A few minutes of silence passed as Azriel pondered his next response. His face was expressionless, showing none of his thoughts.

“Three months? Why three months?” The soft amusement was back in his voice as he shifted forward, placing his scarred fingers under your chin so you’d meet his gaze. A gaze that could only belong to someone who was feared among every court in Prythian. A dangerous gaze that spoke volumes. The room was silent, as you couldn’t say another word. Instead, he spoke in a low, soft tone that seemed to taunt a reaction out of you.

“You know I could find any information that I could ever want, right?” Words that were laced with truth, a subtle warning in his tone. 

You felt like your heart was going to burst from the anxiety inside of you, a part of you hoping it would so you could avoid this conversation. “I know you could find any information about me that you could want, I just…I don’t want to move too fast. I mean we just met, you know?”

He chuckled softly as he dragged his scarred thumb across your cheek. In a whisper that seemed laced with something dark. "We did just meet, but I do know one thing about you already." Azriel gave you a warm smile and stared at you as he whispered the words "You're scared and I know you’re hiding something, sweetness."

You took in a deep breath, trying to clear your thoughts. This male was going to be the death of you.

You stammered your sentence for a moment. “I’m not scared, it’s just…I can’t exactly tell you right now. I need to figure out some things first. But, that’s not important right now, do you accept the bargain?”

Azriel frowned as he looked at your face, somehow trying to find information through your expression. After another moment, he finally said, "Fine, you have your bargain. But only if you promise me one thing."

He accepted? That was different than what you were expecting. “What’s your condition?”

Before you knew it, you truly saw the spymaster of the Night Court in action as he moved closer to you. He raised an eyebrow at you, pulling his hand away from your face, and moved them to either side of you. Leaning down close enough to whisper in your ear. "You'll tell me whatever truth you're keeping from me after three months, no games, no bullshit. But only after the three months have passed." He seemed to wait until you could gather your senses to respond. His gaze was harsh but still held some warmth.

“We have a deal,” the words stumbled out, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We have a deal,” Azriel repeated with his voice sending a shiver down your spine with its coldness. He hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly as if wrestling an inner turmoil. Then without warning, a bargain marking materialized on both of your wrists, taking the form of a small star.

Another long period of silence. Nothing in the room moved but his shadows that moved between you like silk. Some of the shadows felt like kisses on your wrist as they slithered over the bargain.

“I suppose I should take you home,” he whispered, his voice coming out rough. As if he wanted to say something more. You gave him a slow nod, and he moved away, climbing off the bed to hand you a simple dress. “I had my shadows bring something, you…ruined yours last night. I’ll save you the embarrassment,” he teased lightly before stepping out of the room to allow you some privacy.

Oh…what did you do in front of this beautiful creature? You are never drinking again if it's what you think it is.

You slipped on the dress; it fit nicely. How he knew your size or his shadows knew was beyond you. You chose to ignore those thoughts as you tied your hair, looking in the mirror. One thing you knew for sure, you needed a bath.

After you stepped out of the room, your eyes fell upon Azriel, already clad in his Illyrian leathers, the blue cobalt siphons shimmering in the morning light that filtered through the window. He looked every bit the formidable warrior, yet there was a softness in his eyes as he reached out his scarred hand to yours. 

In an instant, we were no longer in the confines of the townhouse, but standing at the gates of your parents’ estate. Azriel’s expression softened, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. 

“Y/n, there is one more thing before we go back in there,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken words. 

As he glanced towards the estate, a sense of unease settled over me, knowing what was coming next. "Your secret, whatever it is, will always be safe with me,” Azriel said, his gaze unwaveringly sincere as he met your eyes.  “Whenever you are ready to tell me.”

You met his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension, emotions swirling within you like a storm. "It's not that bad of a secret," you began, your voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt." You paused, gathering your thoughts. "Don't worry, in three months you can introduce me to your family. In six months we can set a date for a ceremony."

Azriel leaned forward, his smile gentle as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His expression was a blend of disappointment and sadness flickering in his eyes. It seemed as though he had something more to say, or perhaps do. After a moment of tense silence, he nodded as if coming to a decision. "See you in three months, my mate," he said softly, before turning away and disappearing with a graceful winnow. Not even leaving a trace of shadows behind. All that was left was his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar. 

Tag list: @mybestfriendmademe, @why4anne, @impossibelle

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 2 (The Bookstore)

1.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You run into a familiar stranger at a bookshop after work.

Warnings: None! All fluff: our meet cute continues in a second location.

A/N: Thank you for the kind words and encouragement on Ch. 1 🥹 This takes place at the end of the day following the events of The Coffeeshop (Series Masterlist).There's a Paz mention (he took over from Din as head of security for the Fett family when Din retired), and a Peli mention too! 😊 I didn't set out to do dual POV, but it veered in that direction a little bit - if you have any tips on writing in this style, please do kindly share! Thank you!

You work late, as usual, and find yourself with just enough time to run across the street to your favourite independent bookstore downtown before heading out to dinner with some friends.  It’s actually such a funny little store to be tucked away amidst all the concrete skyscrapers, but you’re grateful it exists – a friendly, cozy haven that you often find yourself visiting at the end of a long work day.  Today, you’ve come expressly to pick up multiple copies of the latest release in a fantasy series that a few of your dinner friends are reading.  After picking up four copies, you give in to the temptation to look around the shop for something to add to your ever growing TBR pile.

---

Din spots you from his spot in the bookstore window before you even come in.  He’s supposed to be keeping watch for the target in his assigned area, but the truth is he’s been distracted thinking about you all day.  He had noticed you in the coffeeshop this morning even before the kerfuffle with that scrawny punk in the grey suit, but after having spent a little time with you, he hasn't been able to get your pretty smile and sweet voice out of his mind.  He had been touched by the way you took care of an old lady you didn’t even know; but it was after your warmth had radiated to his hand when you had warned him of the sharp porcelain shards, that you truly became unforgettable.  He admired the way you had diffused the situation this morning; not many had the talent to calm and soothe him with a single touch. It was especially striking since he had seen a fiery spark in your eyes when you had admonished that jerk in the grey suit.  The way you could be so sweet, but then tap into such passion at a moment’s notice, had him grinning to himself positive he would not want to get on your bad side. What a woman.

Din watches you bounce into the store and make a beeline for the new releases table.  With amusement, he sees you select multiple copies of the same book, but not before picking up and examining all the copies on the table, and choosing only the ones that pass your careful inspection.  After you disappear between the stacks, Din makes the split second decision to leave his post (he and Paz had planned for multiple sightlines covering each location.  It should be fine.).  Going first to the till to discreetly pay for the books that he saw you pick up, Din then ducks into the back of the store where he saw you wander off to.

He finds you straightening up the piles of books on a table labelled “BookTok Faves” and wonders if you’re organizing a mess you had stumbled upon or one you had created by searching through the copies looking for the “crispiest” covers.  He finds both possibilities to be equally charming.

“Hi.”

You look up, completely taken by surprise to see the handsome Quad Ice stranger from this morning looking at you with an adorable grin, and you can’t help but smile back, “Hi!  It’s you.”

Din chuckles, “Yes, it’s me.”

Right away you think of the events of this morning, “Oh!  Was everything okay with the old lady after I left?”

Din isn’t at all surprised that your first thought is to ask after someone else.  He tells you everything: how he waited with Elizabeth for her cappuccino to be called, how he learned she’s in the city visiting her twin grandchildren (one girl, one boy), and how he saw her to and sat with her at a prime window seat in the coffee shop for a little bit, and that when he left, she was halfway through the delicious coffee cake, which she had insisted he take a bite of.

You delight in these details and you tell him so as you thank him for his thoughtfulness.

“What about you?  How was the rest of your day?”

You note that it’s kind of him to ask and let him know that you had a perfectly lovely day, “…and to think, some spilled coffee on my clothes didn’t make a lick of difference to the people I work with.  Imagine that!”  You have a twinkle in your eye, and Din laughs along with you, not even trying to hide how mesmerized he is by the sound of your giggles.

He points at the stain on your skirt that he remembers seeing this morning and offers, “Well, if you need a good dry cleaner, my friend runs ‘Peli’s Drycleaning’ on 14th.  If you say Din sent you, they might try extra hard not to lose your clothes.”

“Oh!  Thank you!  I have a great relationship with my dry cleaners… I spill a lot,” you joke, “but I appreciate the offer so much …Din.”  You try out his name and find that you love the way it sounds rolling off your tongue; you introduce yourself and give him your hand when he holds out his.  His huge hand completely dwarfs yours, and as he holds your hand for a moment longer than necessary, you feel how strong and rough his palm and thick fingers are and think you might like the feel of his hands even more than the feel of his name.

To snap yourself out of a daydream state that is barreling towards inappropriate thoughts such as where else you might like those hands and fingers, you take the opportunity to thank Din for everything he did this morning.  “Thank you again for all your help this morning; I’m really glad you were there.”

“You look like you had it under control,” Din smiles, but his brow furrows remembering, “but I didn’t like the way that guy spoke to you and Elizabeth.  He was really out of line.  No one should be speaking to anyone else like that.”

“Oh, sadly I feel like that’s more common than it should be around here.  There’s always some puffed up finance guy that thinks he can yell his way to the top,” you roll your eyes.  Over your career you’ve definitely met your fair share of douche bag finance bros; luckily, you’ve also learned that arrogance and false bravado aren’t the only way to get ahead.  You have a feeling that the man standing in front of you is a testament to the fact that strength and authority can come from calm and consideration. “You don’t work around here?” you ask Din.

Din shakes his head, “No, just have a work assignment that has me down here for the day.  I don’t usually come downtown.”  Din light heartedly jokes, “Which is lucky for our coffee-stained friend, you might not be around next time to calm me down if I were to see him again.”

You remember the electricity that had emanated from Din this morning when you had touched his clenched fists and remember the sense of safety you had felt then; you feel it now, just being in his presence.  You give Din a glowing smile, “Well, I hope his meeting went well and that no one noticed his stains, so he was thoroughly ashamed of himself for the rest of the day for the way he acted.”

“You’re much nicer than me.  I have been actively hoping all day that his meeting didn’t go well.”

“Well.  I think you’re very nice,” you look up shyly.

Din smiles back.  How are you so sweet? He is about to ask you if you’re free for dinner, when the phone in his hand buzzes.  He looks down to see a text from Paz that the target has been spotted and the location that everyone needs to converge at now. “Oh.  Shoot. I have to go.  I’m sorry.”

You’re a little surprised by the abrupt end to the conversation, but Din genuinely looks sorry to be leaving, “Of course!  Good luck with.. your thing!  It was nice to see you again.”

“You too.”  Din has already started to move towards the bookstore exit, but he tries to convey his regret at having to leave you with his forlorn expression.  He’s not sure if he will ever see you again, and he swallows the lump in this throat at that thought, doing his best to memorize your pretty face and the sweet way you’re waving goodbye.

After Din leaves you let out a deep sigh.  Would you ever see Din again?  He didn’t work downtown, so your chances of running into him at the coffeeshop or this bookstore again were probably nil. And you didn’t know anything about him other than his first name and the fact that he was kind and funny, with puppy dog eyes you could lost in, and big strong hands that would feel so good around… stop it.  You exhale another melancholy breath and wish you had had a little more time with Din, maybe you could have gotten his number or something.  You resign yourself to having to forget your handsome Quad Ice.

To fill this new emotional void, you add a couple more books to your purchase pile and you make your way over to the cashier.  After she scans your items, she pushes the stack back towards you and says, “It’s all taken care of!”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean?”

“The gentleman who was here earlier paid for your books already.”

Din? “The gentleman?  The one with the dark fluffy hair with greys in it?” You describe what Din was wearing as well, still in disbelief.

“That’s the guy!  He actually gave me a lot more than what’s needed to cover your books, so you can grab some more stuff if you want.  He said to keep paying for people’s books until it ran out, so if there’s anything else you want to get, go ahead.”

“No, that’s ok…I’m sure the next person will appreciate the gesture,” you say, absentmindedly, other thoughts racing through your head, “Wait.. did he leave a number or anything, some way I can contact him to thank him?”

“I actually asked him if wanted to do that, but he said he wouldn’t want you to feel obligated because of the books to call him; he just wants you to enjoy the gift.”  Your breath hitches a little; the cashier notices and says, “I know, right?” She gives you a dreamy look, which you mirror back.

Well so much for forgetting your handsome Quad Ice.

Thank you for reading! First two lines of Ch. 3 (The Drycleaner):

“He bought you books?!?”

“Well technically, he bought us all books.”

[zoros-bandana]

Ok ima be specific about this zoro x a science/inventor reader where she used to nice and clumsy with her inventions and hang around zoro until he got mad at her after thriller bark when she was caring for her and then timeskip then once they get back he wonders why she doesn't talk to him and itll be like a steven and connie scenario where there a big party as the others try to make them talk again but take the wrong way until they forgive each other

Hi lovely, I haven't seen Steven Universe so I had to do some research and I'm hoping you were referring to Kevin's Party? hopefully so since that is what I found to pull inspiration from x This was also really fun to write, putting in little bits from various crew-mates POV so thank you for this request

The Banquet

SFW

Zoro x fem reader

Multiple crew POV

Warning: slight Thriller Bark spoilers, slight Sabaody spoilers, slight Fisherman Island spoilers, mentions of threats (usual Zoro/Sanji banter)

Summary: The crews reunion turned sour once you and Zoro shared the same space. There was obvious tension from when you last spoke, hindering on the bitter tone of his words to you. With the crew sick of the avoidance, Nami and Usopp lead a plan to have you reconnect at the King's Banquet, hopeful the uncomfortable avoidance will be resolved.

Word Count: 3,400

"So you think this is going to work?"

"It has to" Nami insisted, turning her head in search of Usopp. She had strategically put a plan into place, sharing the news with everyone except for you or Zoro; giving the best chance of success. "If I have to watch them both ignore one another for one second longer I'm going to lose it! They can only sulk for so long before it gets under my skin!"

"I think it's making its way under everyone's skin; including theirs"

"Which is why this is going to work"

"Shh" Robin laughed, nudging her friend gently. "She's coming over"

———————

"Y/n" Robin waved, shuffling over to make space for you to sit down. You had gone in search of something to drink, the night still very occupied for the King's Banquet in celebration of your crews assistance to defend Fisherman Island. Along your way you kept a weary eye out for Zoro, shifting ignoring every green coloured object in your way.

"There you are... I thought I lost my way for a while trying to come back over here"

You gracefully sat beside your friend, huddling close as the music throbbed to your right. You held the glass in your hands, keeping it close to act as support, knowing the tension in the air that loomed over you. It was obvious since the crews return of the awkwardness between you and Zoro, almost deafening in a room full of obnoxious activities.

"Uh huh" Nami smiled, taking a sip from her wine. "That sounds like a certain person we know. Say, Y/n, have you had a chance to speak to Zoro tonight?"

You scoffed. "Absolutely not"

"Why not?" Robin question, her tone soft as usual. She didn't pry on such events, her usual kindness and concern for her friends making it easy to succumb to her questions.

"I don't particularly want to talk to him after what he said to me, and how he said it. I know he was hurt but there was still no excuse in how he put me down like that"

"What if he apologised?"

"Now we all know that thick headed idiot doesn't even know how to spell that word, let alone know how to make one"

"Y/n, answer the question"

You sighed, glancing quickly over in his direction, walled behind a few of your friends. You had always thought about it, approaching him first even just to get him to talk to you, but you never saw the point. How would he know he was in the wrong if he didn't initiate conversation first?

"I'm not sure" you looked back over to the girls. They shared the same hopeful face, smiling sweetly, making you feel safe in their company. "Maybe?"

"That's good enough for me..." Nami mumbled under her breath, covering her voice up as she took another sip, her attention shifting to Usopp.

———————

"Wait, what's the plan again?" Luffy scratched his head, tilting to one side.

"I already told you!" Usopp snapped, annoyed having to repeat himself for the sixth time in the last hour. "We get Zoro over to Y/n so they can talk it out and stop ignoring one another"

"Oh yeah!" Luffy laughed, "I remember now"

"Yeah, but for how long..." Usopp mumbled, noting Zoro as he sat in the corner; still from when you had all entered hours ago. He was occupied from the bottles of alcohol that surrounded him, clearly intoxicated by the way he moved, his eyes shutting in show motions.

Continuing his search, Usopp caught the eye of Nami, waving her down with a sly signal, letting her know the operation was in place. She returned the signal, turning back towards yourself and Robin to execute her end of the plan.

"Sanji?"

"Mmm?"

"You sure you want to be the one to do this?"

Sanji clapped his hands together, drunk on the thought of Nami. "Anything to please my sweet Nami-Swan!"

"Alright, sorry I asked..."

Usopp swiftly pushed Sanji into Zoro's direction, bracing himself for a clash to unfold. He was surprised when Sanji had volunteered to help, however, now understanding his willingness to help Nami, it became clear he would set aside his pride to be in her good book for a while.

———————

"Oi, Marimo"

"What the hell do you want, curly brow?" Zoro snapped, opening his eye. As he looked up it was if he had sobered up immediately, not wishing to be caught off guard by someone like Sanji.

Kicking the bottle aimlessly, Sanji ignored looking directly at Zoro, disgusted to be in his presence; but determined to obey Nami's wish. "I can't believe you're still just as drunk and useless as before. Or maybe I can, it is you after all... and I expect nothing but disgusting behaviour from you"

"What the hell did you say?"

"Oh, and you're deaf now too? A wonderful addition for the greatest swordsman you so wish to become"

"You better watch what you say stupid cook or the next thing that will be flying out of your mouth is those teeth"

Sanji laughed, amused by Zoro's attempt to sound tough; knowing he couldn't kick his ass if he was even sober. Lighting up a cigarette Sanji let room for a dramatic pause, building Zoro's anger all the more painful. He wanted to let him sweat, bath in his fury in a wish to escape, hoping the rest of his friends were sticking to their end of the plan; not screwing it up for his beloved navigator.

Taking a long drawn out puff, Sanji soothed the smoke around him, clouding Zoro's view. He was prepared to fight back if things turned sour, Zoro obvious to the script given, widening his stance just a bit more than usual.

"Not if I end up knocking you on your ass first, moss head"

———————

Looking up from your drink you noticed a comfortable laugh, meeting Luffy as he sat opposite you; Usopp sitting to his left. In one hand, Luffy had gathered a flowing bowl of food, unusual to the group as food services has ceased mere hours ago. They easily slid into conversation, Nami and Usopp counteracting off one another as usual; Luffy too busy with the food to chime in.

As Robin's eye slid from the group she noticed a commotion caused by Sanji, drifting her attention to where Zoro sat. She half nudged to you, although spoke loud enough for Luffy to hear.

"Zoro looks rather uncomfortable"

You followed her gaze, alongside Luffy, finding the tufts of green behind the stack of bottles and Sanji's tall figure. It was obvious the two were bickering - as usual - their body language intense and stubborn.

Amused by his friends, Luffy took a moment to finish eating, swallowing the chunk of meat wedged in his mouth. His body turned, already forgetting his mission but proceeding out of the goodness of his heart.

"Oi, Zoro!" Luffy called.

The group shifted their attention, looking over to where Zoro sat, apart from you, the grimace on his face a clear indicator of what everyone was looking for; a clear way for him to come over. Everyone around you exchanged a look, proud as Luffy waved his arms around, catching Zoro's attention.

All it took was Luffy's instructions, a simple obedience from the captains right hand man, and the plan would continue the smooth sailing in place.

"Come over here!"

———————

Intruded by the inviting idea of separation, Zoro quickly left from his spot. He ignored the wobble in his legs, grasping his swords tight as he shoved past Sanji, making his way over to where his captain sat.

From his angle there looked to be four of his friends, laughing and having a better time than what he was experiencing currently. He didn't mind if he had to listen to the nagging voice of Nami as she spoke, mindlessly chatting to Robin, who as usual, looked deep in thought. He would be happy to engage with Luffy when he could, making the top of his list for favourite people in a heartbeat, enjoying the pleasant conversation as he joked with Usopp.

As he crashed down into the circle he caught sight of something he hadn't noticed before, sitting to his left, hidden by the figures of his friends. A crushing stutter caught him in a choke, punching the air from his lungs. His heartbeat was horrifically loud, pounding in his ears, not expecting you to be here, so close to him; smelling so inviting.

"Y/n?"

———————

You could feel the group grow quiet, half expecting you to say something, surprised Zoro even spoke to you at all. It had been years since he attempted any form of conversation, the last time ending a lot differently than his current tone now.

"Hi?" you shrugged, looking away from him back to Robin, ignoring the blistering heat of embarrassment across your face.

Zoro grumbled something, half attempting to get up but remembered Sanji, looking over his shoulder as if to keep him in place. He refused to engage in any looming conversation, as much as they tried to include him, keeping to himself as he fidgeted, agitated of this current predicament.

He was trapped.

Once again Robin nudged you, laughing as you rolled your eyes at her now obvious attempt to get you to talk to Zoro. Her face continued to remain hopeful, even attempting to bring Zoro to join in; which he quickly rejected.

"Stop trying to make it happen..." you mumbled to her, leaning in close so nobody would overhear. "He is clearly not going to make things better between us so there is no point in trying to get us to talk"

Grinning innocently she took a sip from her wine. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Y/n"

"Robin, please!" you begged, hoping someone would back you up here. Everyone knew how much he hurt you, unable to hide your raw emotions after the fight, turning cold and almost frightened at his mere presence. And it stung, seeing all your friends ignorant to your feelings, pushing you to do something uncomfortable.

How come Zoro wasn't getting this treatment?

Why wasn't he being pushed to speak to you?

You stood up, unable to take any more of the growing intolerance between you and Zoro. If something was to happen moving forward you were not going to be the one to break first. "I'm going to grab another drink"

———————

Robin watched as you walked away, an added annoyance in your strut as you quickly chugged the remainder of your drink. She sighed, turning to Nami, afraid the plan was getting out of hand. "Nami..."

Nami held her finger up, stopping Robin from counting further, knowing what she was referring to. "I've got this"

She had noticed Zoro's dazed state, realising your disappearance may have unnoticed to him. Thinking quickly she drunk the remainder of her drink, pinching Robin's out of her hand, before finishing that as well.

"Oi, Zoro, go get us some more drinks" Nami extended her arm out in his direction, drinking glasses twisted through her fingers.

Zoro scoffed. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you would do anything to get some alcohol in that empty hand of yours, and I told you to" Nami pressed her lips into a thin line, handing her glass over to him. "Now go!"

———————

Mumbling under his breath, Zoro trudged back over to the drink table, slamming the glasses down. The table was still flowing with bottles of various alcohol and barrels of beer, which Zoro was sure to swipe of mug off on his quest.

As he fumbled around the bottles of wine he caught a whiff of you, transporting back to moments ago sat by your side. Actually, he never noticed you leave your spot. He wondered where you went, both as of now and after Sabaody. He missed you terribly, forcing his memory of you to be pushed to the back of his mind, too focused to worry about the addition of his friends. He missed everyone - even the presence of Sanji - but nothing hurt him as much as returning to silence.

Zoro missed your chatter, your laughter, having you accompany him with stupid experiments. He missed how you would annoy him with help, both to rest and to assist with various things in the name of science. He enjoyed your stories, babbling on with terms he didn't understand, but the joy in your eyes was enough to get him through.

He missed having you around.

He would do anything to have you back.

As his hand came over to the barrel, there was a slight touch, gentle and cautious, pulling away as soon as you both touched hands. The voice sung a swat apology, Zoro looking over to grunt at the person, annoyed of their close proximity.

Looking up he was quick to meet your eye, looking away just as fast, embarrassed he didn't see you there. Again.

It was a common theme for him tonight, almost overlooking you like a shadow without means. He was confused, hurt, but knew if something were to happen now would be the time to ask. He needed to know why you were ignoring him.

Maybe attempting to smooth things over wouldn't be so bad?

———————

"Beer, huh?"

"Hmm?" you stopped pouring, setting the mug down onto the table; grasping it firmly for comfort. You refused to look over in his direct, feeling his body do the same, unable to meet each other in an eye lock.

"I didn't think you drank that stuff"

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me. A lot can change in two years, you know"

He went quiet to that, skipping a beat.

"You still... doing those experiments?"

You turned your body towards him, cocking an eyebrow at his attempt to small talk; wondering what your friends had said to him. Surely Nami had got to him, assuming Robin was too polite to be forceful and direct him your way.

"Is this your attempt to say sorry to me?"

"What?"

"Are you trying to apologise for your behaviour, Zoro? How you treated me? Or are just going to pretend like that never happened?"

"I-" Zoro fumbled, not entirely sure what to say. "What would I apologise for?"

Zoro could see his response hurt, your face dropping, a slight quiver in your lip. Your hand let go of the mug, balling at your side in rage, turning your knuckles a ghostly shade of white. An inconvenient swear parted your lips, furious he had the nerve to even say that to you.

How could he still be so blind and ignorant?

Brushing past him you made sure to hit him on the way, cementing your frustrations. It wasn't enough to let him mentally paint the picture anymore, waiting for some half-ass apology that had no value to his words; only to stop you behaving in such a sour way. It was tiring, exhausting, wondering if maybe you would come back to him the same as he always used to be, forgetting about how he treated you, resuming your friendship, or if he would take the plunge and own up to his mistake.

And unfortunately neither was an option.

Zoro's head followed you, looking over his shoulder as you walked away from him. There was a drop in his stomach, realising why exactly now you were ignoring him; hurt by his actions. But Zoro had no idea why. Until he remembered the fight.

Your face held a familiar look to how you looked before, back in Sabaody; back when he snapped at you. He could clearly remember the whimper and shake of your lip, almost frightened by how he raised his voice at you.

You were scared of him.

He made you retreat from him - afraid to get hurt again.

Swearing under his breath Zoro realised what he had done, realising there was a reason for your blunt behaviour that he hadn't thought about before. He was so blind to his own selfish goal over the two years it never occurred his actions had consequences on you; or anyone else for that matter.

Leaving the glasses on the table, Zoro followed you, struggling to keep up as you darted out of the banquet. He picked up to a steady jog, the only indicator of you the linger scent that curled his toes to think about. A wash of blame fell over him, never understanding why it took him this long to piece together what he did. He had time. 2 years. 2 years to think about everything but somehow this slipped his mind.

He hoped he could repair what he broke.

"Y/n, wait..."

Zoro continued to follow you outside, a deep hazy blue surrounding you as you stood by the doors of the palace. It was quiet, still, the loss of people still hoarding in the banquet giving an almost apocalyptic feel.

As he lunched to you, Zoro's hand gripped your arm stopping you in your tracks, the amount of force made you turn on your heels, allowing him to face you properly. "Is this why you've been avoiding me?"

You struggled to look up at him, knowing if you did you would cry. His grip was strong, although you knew it would be easy to break away from him if you wanted to, giving you the freedom to disappear again. He just wanted an answer.

"I wasn't trying to ignore you. I was going to speak to you... I thought about it, but it didn't make any sense. I wasn't making any sense. I thought, if we are going to talk then I need to get an apology; something sincere from you. And so I came back and I saw you and you said nothing, and any time we were together, you said nothing. And now we're here and you're still not saying anything to me"

Zoro continued to stay silent, hoping you would explain deeper.

"What you said to me back then, how you handled your emotions and lashed out at me for helping you, it wasn't fair. And now I don't know how to act around you and it isn't fair. I don't know how to feel. I'm angry. I miss you. I feel like I'm out of my mind!"

"No, you're not! I snapped at you when you were just trying to help me, care for me, and you didn't need me doing that to you. I was cruel. And I came back and tried to act like it was no big deal, but it was a big deal! I couldn't stand the thought of you not speaking to me ever again, but then I was also doing it to you! I made a promise to myself and it got in the way of how I treated you, and so I'm sorry! Nakamas?"

You smiled up at him, ignoring the stream of tears that clouded your vision. There was only thing you truely wanted when the crew reunited and now you had it, an apology, a genuine apology from Zoro.

"Nakamas"

Your arms flew around Zoro's middle, pulling yourself to him in an embrace, feeling his body stiffen at the contact. You were aware of his strict dismissal of affection, however you didn't care, leaning into the idea everything was okay between you two. And it was.

Zoro reciprocated the hug, keeping you close, his face leaning down to bury into the tuft go hair atop of your head. His body relaxed, engulfing you tighter into his body, pressing the smell of musk and steel against your skin.

He was happy. For the first time in a long time he was happy. It felt so good, so right to have you like this; speaking to him again. It was if the moment he snapped a part of him went missing, your presence dissolving from his life and also a part of him he wasn't sure he could ever get back. But here he was, completely whole, and he refused to let something like that come between you two again.

"I'm so glad I have you back, Y/n"

[hatingfromacrackedscreen]

One of my favorite things about the Animorphs rotating pov is how you get to see character development happening so subtly but from so many different angles. One of my favorite examples is with Cassie & Marco’s relationship, from when she left the team to the David Arc (books 19-22), and how it explains so much of their dynamic for the rest of the series.

Marco and Cassie have one of the most interesting dynamics out of the Animorphs because of how often they disagree over conflicts/strategy, but also because of the fact that they usually end up being the de facto strategists of the team (They also both are like, in love with Jake, which also leads to really interesting moments but this isn’t about that). Naturally this puts them at odds with each other often, especially during Book #19. Cassie quits the team and voluntarily infests herself so she doesn’t have to kill Karen, something that Marco doesn’t understand and also is upset about, because now he may have to kill Cassie. After book’s end Cassie makes it back to the team and Aftran begins the peace movement. There’s a lot of threads that contribute to spiral from the book, and Cassie and Marco’s relationship is one of the subtler ones. What’s important to note is that the next book, book #20, is a Marco pov. We get to see his thoughts, and all is not forgiven. He reminisces about the recent Cassie-related events, and says something along the lines of “yeah I’m not really chill with her after the shit she pulled with Aftran.” Which I support Cassie fully, but fair enough! Not only did Cassie voluntarily cause their biggest security breach at the moment, but also he thought he, a 14 year old, was now going to have to kill his friend, another 14 year old. I would be pissed too. (Also this is another great subtle narrative thread leading into the David Arc, which derives its most central tension from this same dilemma)

However the culmination of the Cassie Marco tension comes not from either of their own pov, but from the next book, book 21 which is a Jake pov. The Animorphs all morph bugs to break into a hotel that has a Yeerk conspiracy involved, and they come close to the 2 hour limit. They all morph back successfully except Marco (the weakest morpher) who is stuck as a several foot tall giant grotesque flea. Everyone’s freaking out, but it’s Cassie who’s comes forward, places a hand on Marco, and soothingly guides him through his sheer panic, and into demorphing back to his human self. After Marco breaks down and sobs on Cassie, and Jake even notes he’s never seen Marco cry like that. Which is significant since Jake has known Marco grieving through his mother “dying”. Jake doesn’t note it, because it’s a situation he doesn’t even know about, but in this moment Marco forgives Cassie. Marco never gives her shit for the Aftran situation again, either in his narration or in others. And I love that it’s something that’s not explicitly said by Jake in this book, or Marco or Cassie in later ones, but all of the resolution of that tension between them beautify resolves in a book that’s not either of their povs and doesn’t even explicitly mention it.

Not only is that a knack to Animorphs’ character writing, but it sets the foundation for their relationship going forward. It’s why Cassie still goes to talk to Marco in Book #35 through his issues with his dad remarrying, and he ridicules her a bit but hears her out. And then by series end, when Cassie gives the morphing cube away to the Yeerks, and Jake tells everyone. Is Mr. Marco “ruthless bright line from A to B” pissed at her? No he’s over it and back to being chums with her. Because that’s Cassie his bestie now❤️ And I love that no matter how often they’re at conflict later in the series, after the flea incident it never gets as serious in Marcos narration as it was to him before, in book #20. Animorphs’ character writing amongst multiple povs is just so so soo good.

[sofreddie]

Under My Skin

Summary: Dean calls you for help on a case. But when things go sideways, true feelings surface.

Characters: Dean Winchester x Unnamed Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Gunshot Wound/Injury, Smut (Unprotected Sex), Aftercare

DEAN: ENEMIES TO LOVERS (@spndeanbingo)

FLUFF: BLACK TIE EVENT (@anyfandomfluffbingo)

ANGST: GUNSHOT WOUND (@anyfandomangstbingo)

KINK: AFTERCARE (@anyfandomkinkbingo)

WC: 3796

A/N: First time writing Second POV (You). Been sitting on this one a while, trying to get it right. Hope you enjoy! : )

Dean Freaking Winchester.

The man. The myth. The legend.

You couldn't stand him.

You had known the Winchesters for the better part of five years, having crossed paths time and again for various hunts. The truth was you liked hunting alongside the Winchesters. There was never a dull moment and working with the best made you feel like one of the best.

Sam was always a pleasure. You loved fighting beside the massive giant and you loved chilling with a beer after a job well done. Sam was easy to talk to and you had a lot in common. There were times you wished there was some sort of romantic spark between the two of you, but life doesn't always work out that way. You weren't ashamed to admit he was hot either, but again, it just wasn't like that with the two of you. You were grateful for the solid friendship nonetheless.

Dean, however, was another story entirely. Just the sound of his name had you rolling your eyes. Never has anyone ever made you as infuriated as that green-eyed menace. When it came to hunting, Dean was competitive and challenging, always goading you and pushing you to your limits. And off the hunt? Well, that was a whole other matter in itself. The way he'd flirt with anything in a skirt, taking girl after girl back to his motel room, rambling on and on about his skills in the bedroom.

He was the single most irritating person you'd ever met in your life.

So when his name popped up on your caller ID, you were tempted to just ignore it. But you knew Dean wouldn't call unless it was important.

"Winchester," you answered curtly, letting him know off the bat you weren't having any of his usual whatever.

"Hiya, Sweetheart," he crooned and you could hear that damn smirk in his tone. "Miss me?"

"With every shot so far," you sighed into the line, ignoring his annoying chuckle.

"Was hoping you could help me out on a case?"

"Sam's usually the one who calls."

"Yeah, well, Sam's tied up on a different case at the moment and I could use the backup." You couldn't fight the smirk on your face at his words. Dean knew you were a good hunter and you felt a bit of pride at the fact that he trusted you to be his backup. "So, whaddya say? It's a fancy affair."

You thought about it for a second. If Dean said it was fancy, that meant dressing up, and it had been quite a while since you'd had the chance to dress up for anything more than a drink at the bar. If nothing else, you'd get a little glitz and glamour in your evening while working at the same time.

"Send me the address and details," you decided as you packed up your things. You'd need to stop along the way and do a little shopping. "I'll meet you there."

Ending the call you took a deep breath, glancing around the motel room to make sure all your things were packed. Making your way to your car, you threw your bag in the backseat before climbing behind the wheel.

If you just threw yourself into the job, focused on the case at hand, you'd get through it and possibly have a little fun while you're at it. You just hoped Dean wasn't his usual Dean self, especially without Sam there as a buffer.

You thought you were clever. You knew the outfit you bought looked fantastic and you expected to knock Dean back a bit.

You did not expect how good that man wore a suit.

Or how the sight of him in a tuxedo knocked the breath from you and had you staggering on your feet for a second.

When you walked out of the bathroom, dressed for the evening, Dean's eyes bulged out of his head. He knew when he called you that he would see you dressed up - something he'd never witnessed before - but even his wildest imaginings couldn't have produced the stunning image that stood before him.

You had always just been a friend, a fellow hunter, one of the team. Dean and Sam trusted you and knew you were skilled, having been in the life for many years.

The two of you seemed to hit it off right away, or so he thought. At the end of the first case, when celebratory drinks were being had, Dean thought for sure he knew where the night was leading. But then you cooled off at some point during the night, all but ignoring him until you dismissed yourself back to the motel.

Dean had wondered what he'd done wrong. He'd thought over everything again and again and couldn't think of any reason other than you just didn't really want him that way. So he found himself a distraction from it all that night.

From then on, any time you saw each other, you were angry and argumentative. But you were still able to get the job done, better than damn near anyone, and looked incredible while doing so. His feelings from that first night never left or faded. If anything they grew over the years he had known you. But he kept it well hidden, not wanting to embarrass himself when you clearly weren't interested.

The past few times they'd run into you though had Dean feeling differently. He wasn't sure if it was the changes in his life or getting older or something else. But he began to feel like maybe he should say something about feeling like they could be more than just friends.

It was a fleeting thought initially, but it kept popping into his mind, taunting and teasing him with relentless 'what ifs'. So when a case came up and involved some undercover work, he jumped at the chance to see you and work with you again, hoping maybe with just the two of you, he could see if you were feeling that change too.

Though, seeing you eyeing him up much the same as he had to you brought him back to his senses, a knowing smirk on his face. He couldn't help the amused chuckle that passed his lips. You rolled your eyes and sat on the end of the bed, putting on your strapped heels.

"You look absolutely stunning in that dress."

He bit his lip as you stood, slowly sauntering over to him. His eyes trailed over your body, growing darker with every step you took. As you stood before him, tilting your head a little to meet his eyes, he bit his lip.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Winchester."

The tension hung between you for a moment before you shook yourself free. With a small smirk, you walked around him, retrieving your clutch from the table.

"Is that a piece of ice chipping off, Sweetheart?"

You didn't have to see his face to know he stood behind you with that damn infuriating smirk of his. As you turned around, clutch in hand, Dean was standing much closer than you expected.

"You ready for the best night of your life?" Dean teased.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "I bet you say that to all the girls." As you made your way to the door, you missed the slip in his smile and the flash of hurt in his eyes.

As his hand landed on your lower back, guiding you out of the motel room and to the Impala, you couldn't help the smile on your face. He had never been this sweet and attentive in all the time you'd known him. It almost felt like an actual date, the thought making your stomach do summersaults.

Then your mind reminded you that he really did do these things for all the women, all the time. It was just another case, just pretend.

From the moment you arrived at the extremely lavish mansion for the Gala, Dean's hands never left you. Whether on your lower back, or holding your hand, or hooked through your arm, he was always touching you, always right there.

It was comforting and maddening in equal measure.

He was so charming, so insistent on having a good time while they hunted. It was infectious and you found yourself sipping champagne and giggling with the older Winchester as yours eyes scanned the crowd.

You were looking for a Shifter. He would find and kill rich people, hiding the bodies long enough to take on their form and rob them of their riches. Dean had spotted him first, dressed in a tuxedo and the face of his last victim, chatting and charming an elderly widow whom they believed to be his next victim. She was one of the more wealthy patrons present.

You were caught of guard by Dean's sudden extended hand and half-smirk, "Dance with me?"

You glanced a this hand, then back to his eyes, "What? Why?"

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head before grabbing you hand and gently tugging you onto the dance floor.

"Surveillance," he shrugged as he placed your hands on his shoulders before gently holding you waist. "We can keep a closer eye on them and maybe listen in."

You couldn't argue his rationale, but the fact that he was clearly more interested in looking at you then them made you suspicious.

It took you a moment to recognize the song that was playing, I've Got You Under My Skin. You smiled at just how applicable it seemed to you. You definitely had Dean under your skin. You smiled to yourself at the thought.

"See?" Dean smiled down at you. "Not so bad, huh?"

"Didn't know you could dance."

"S'just rockin' side to side," he shrugged, making you giggle and shake your head.

He held your gaze as you swayed to the music. Your heart felt like it was swelling into your throat. His eyes, so intense and beautiful, felt like they were burning into you. You glanced at his mouth as his tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip before biting it. The action made your eyes flash back to his.

Were you about to kiss Dean Winchester?

When he broke eye contact you frowned. Had you misread the situation?

"They're gone," Dean announced, his eyes frantically searching the room. You frowned, scanning the room for yourself and finding the couple nowhere. "Damnit," Dean seethed.

Taking you by the hand, he led you both through the crowd in search of the Shifter. You were angry at yourself for getting distracted, for letting yourself entain thoughts of Dean instead of focusing on the case. You knew better, and you knew thinking of being with him in any sort of way was nothing more than a fantasy.

You were supposed to hate each other.

Making your way out of the back of the mansion, you and Dean looked around the dark night, trying to find any sign of them.

"Dean, there!" You said, pointing straight ahead, two figures barely visible in the distance. "They're headed towards the gardens."

You and Dean took off, readying your guns as you caught up to the sound of their voices. Rounding a corner, hidden behind the shrubbery of the gardens, the Shifter stood with the woman.

"Let her go," Dean demanded, his gun trained on the Shifter. You followed suit, standing a few feet beside Dean, your own gun aimed.

"Hunters," the Shifter growled, his grip on the moan tightening as he held her by the arm beside him.

Dean fired off a shot, hitting the man in the arm and forcing him to release the woman. You rushed towards her while the Shifter was distracted.

"Go," you urged, ushering her towards the path out of the gardens. It didn't take much urging and she was running off as quick as she could back towards the house.

AS you turned around, Dean fired again, the Shifter barely dodging it. Cursing to yourself, you took aim, but the Shifter produced a gun, already aimed at you.

Looking at Dean he growled, knowing there was no way out of this for him. "You cost me my woman, I'll cost you yours."

Without looking away from Dean, the shifter fired and you froze. It was as if time slowed down. You knew the bullet would hit you and you didn't have enough time to react. You saw a blur fly in front of you as another gunshot went off, making you jump and come back to your senses.

It was as if everything sped up once more.

The Shifter lay on the ground, a sizzling bullet hole in his head. You looked down at yourself, your hands frantically wandering your body, searching for the bullet wound. But you couldn't find or feel any wound.

A groan at your feet drew your attention and you saw Dean struggling to sit up as he cradled his arm, a bullet wound in his shoulder steadily bleeding.

"You're bleeding," you whispered, still in shock as you helped Dean to his feet.

"No kidding," Dean grumbled. "What the Hell happened?"

"I-I don't know," you admitted, not understanding it yourself. "I just…froze."

Dean huffed, still cradling his arm as he stomped his way out of the garden, "We need to leave before someone shows up and starts asking questions."

You stood there for a moment, looking over the dead shifter and the small pool of blood from Dean. The Shifter got the jump on you and you should have died, should have been hit by that bullet. But Dean jumped in front of you and took it instead, while he killed the Shifter.

You quickly caught up with Dean, the two of you making your way to the Impala and far away from the scene.

Dean was silently fuming the whole ride back to the motel. You knew he was pissed that you fucked up. He was pissed at being shot. Dean came out of nowhere, diving in front of you like some action hero, taking the bullet in his shoulder as he fired a shot, killing the intended target. You just stood there, frozen in shock knowing that bullet was meant for you and you couldn't do anything about it.

You should have been thankful, and you were. But the overwhelming guilt you felt over fucking up and, more importantly, almost possibly losing Dean had twisted your insides so much.

Dean grunted as you forced him down into the chair in the small motel room with a huff. Digging the first aid kit out of your duffel you came back to the small kitchenette table.

"You shouldn't have done that," you said through gritted teeth, helping Dean remove his ruined jacket and shirt.

He hissed as the material came away from the bleeding wound and you sucked in a breath at the sight of his bare torso. Did he have to be so damn distracting?

"Are you serious?" Dean glared at you as you refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing on patching him up. "I saved your ass back there!"

"You didn't have to take the bullet like that, Dean!" You huffed in anger, Dean growling as you were a little too rough, your emotions getting the better of you.

You knew he was right. Truth was, you were scared. Scared that you almost died. Scared that you could have lost Dean without ever having figured out what this weird thing between you was.

"I'm just supposed to let you die?" he growled, grabbing your wrist when you finished and forcing you to look at him.

Tears began to gather in your eyes and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold them back.

"You could've died too," you responded in a weak whisper, your heart feeling like it might burst as you realized just how much he meant to you. "I could've lost you."

The tears did fall then, a hiccupped sob catching in your throat. Dean's expression changed from anger to surprise. The air between you seemed charged, crackling with the intensity of whatever this thing between you two had always been.

Tugging at your wrist, he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you straddling his thighs. You buried your face in his shoulder as you let the tears fall. Dean cradled you in his arms, holding you close and soothing you as you let it all out.

Once you were calm enough you pulled back to look at him through teary eyes.

"I'm okay," Dean insisted, his voice tender. "I'm right here, I'm okay."

You nodded, feeling like you might start crying again. Instead, you cupped his face, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss, hoping he could feel this crazy flurry of confusing emotions coursing through you. As he eagerly kissed you back, you knew he felt something too.

His hands were frenzied as you allowed yourself to drown in his kisses, the taste of his tongue. In no time at all, he had you stripped of your dress and bra, leaving you in your lacy panties and heels as you ground down against him.

Dean hissed, lifting you enough to hurriedly shove his slacks and boxers down to his knees, gathering you back tightly into his arms. You moaned as your lace-covered folds met his hot and hard length. Pressed between you, the tip grazed your belly. It both scared and thrilled you to take him.

Holding his gaze, you lifted your hips and pulled your panties aside. Catching the tip on your entrance, you slowly lowered yourself on his cock. Dean's hands squeezed your hips, his eyes watching as your pussy slowly swallowed up his length.

By the time your ass was flush with his thighs, you were trembling. Dean was huge, his girth stretching you more than you'd ever felt before. He was so long and hard, the head of his cock pressed firmly against your cervix.

You shifted your hips experimentally, the mix of pain and pleasure making you gasp. Dean smirked, his hands helping to lift you on and off his cock at a slow pace. Before long you were riding his cock in earnest, your face buried in his neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Dean met your every thrust, relishing in the desperate sounds of your moans and gasps, letting you use him how you needed. You felt amazing wrapped around him. You lifted your feet to rest on the side supports of the chair, your heels hooking onto the rails. Using the leverage, you rode Dean harder, your head was thrown back as you lost yourself to the bliss.

Dean leaned forward, your bouncing breasts too much for him to ignore. He wrapped his mouth around one, his hand teasing and pulling at the other, driving you closer and closer to your climax.

Without warning, you came hard, screaming out Dean's name as he rode you through your high. As you were coming down, Dean growled, his grip on you tight as he kicked off his pants and carried you over to the bed.

He laid you down, removing your panties but leaving your heels on as he climbed between your legs. Kissing you deeply he slid his cock back inside you, pressing as deep as he could go.

You moaned and Dean set a harsh pace, his face buried in your neck as he fucked you deep. You wrapped your legs around him, your heels digging into his lower back. He hissed, one hand finding the headboard for leverage, the other holding your hip as he gave all he had, grunting and growling with each thrust. You weren't sure if you were gonna cum or break or both.

Once again, he had you cumming harder than you'd ever felt before, stars swimming behind your eyes. Dean's moans and whines in your ear as he came, the twitching of his cock, the heat of his seed, were delicious and added to your euphoria.

Once calmed, Dean removed himself, plopping down onto the bed beside you with a heavy groan. As your mind cleared, the reality of what had just happened settled into your conscious. You had just had sex, with Dean Winchester. A man you were supposed to hate, who hated you. Right?

Turning your head you looked at Dean, his arm slung over his eyes as he caught his breath, a small smile on his parted lips. You sat up a little to admire him more when your eyes caught sight of the wound on his shoulder bleeding once again.

"Dean, you tore your stitches!" you announced in a panic as you climbed from the bed, throwing on your panties and a discarded flannel, hastily doing up the buttons as you retrieved the first aid kit. Turning back to the bed you saw Dean sitting up against the headboard, having put his boxers back on.

You sat on the bed beside him, cleaning and redressing his wound.

"Worth it," Dean mumbled tiredly with a smile. You couldn't help smiling back at him, shaking your head as you finished treating the wound.

"You need to take it easy or it won't heal," you chastised as you put away the supplies. "Here," you said, coming back with a bottle of water and some painkillers. "Take these, it'll help."

Dean complied, taking the pills and downing half the bottle of water, setting it on the nightstand. He snuggled back down into the bed, closing his eyes and ready for sleep.

You eyed him for a moment, debating if you should take the other bed. After all, it was just a quick, post-hunt, 'I almost lost you' romp, right? And you didn't want to hurt his wound by sharing a bed. With a huff you made your way to the other bed, starting to pull back the covers.

"What're you doin'?" Dean asked, sitting up on one elbow and looking at you like you'd grown a second head.

"I just thought-"

"Lay with me?" he asked and at that moment he looked so sweet and vulnerable.

Your heart clenched a little and you nodded, climbing into bed beside him, careful not to hurt him. Dean was quick to maneuver the two of you so he could hold you, your cheek pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You felt him place a kiss on your forehead and moments later he was asleep.

Your mind and heart were a confusing minefield of emotions, but in the safety and warmth of his embrace, you couldn't bring yourself to care. Deciding that was tomorrow's problem, you let yourself fall asleep.

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

@hobby27

@kazsrm67

@maliburenee

@440mxs-wife

@writercole

@spnbaby-67

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@leigh70

@laycblack

DEAN WINCHESTER:

@slamminmine

@deandreamernp

@awkward-and-indecisive

@akshi8278

[mitsuristoleme]

The Odds Is Gone

Written for @kentopedia ‘s collab event- Love Through The Ages

I present to you my take on the tragic love story of Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII! Except picture Sanemi as Antony and Reader as Cleopatra!

cw: 2.4k words, historical au, fem!Cleopatra!Reader, Mark Antony!Sanemi, angst, smut, praise kink if you squint, they banter just a little bit, mention of Sanemi cheating on his wife, suicide, this one is beta read yall!!!, 18+ minors dni (i swear if i see a minor/ ageless blog interact i will block you)

a/n: The amount of rewriting and research i put into this fic is so fucking unreal i kid you not. I switched between 4 POVs and so MANY plot points to cover or leave out, it made me lose my mind. Also I feel like I need to mention that I hit 2k words right when Sanemi says “I love you” for the first time. So. Do with that what you will. Also this is my first time writing smut, and also angst, please go easy on me.

A hugeeeeee thank you to @forest-hashira for helping me out. Without them, this fic would probably not be what it is. Go show them some love (threat)

This fic switches between the narrative and a bunch of flashback scenes. The flashback scenes are all in italics and I've put in dividers between each one, just so there's no confusion in what's going on.

Caesar intended to keep you as a trophy.

You let out a prideful scoff, sandals clacking loudly as you strode towards the medical wing of your palace. 

Did the man truly think he could bring you, Cleopatra VII of Egypt, as a fucking war trophy, to show off to all of Rome? 

You paused in front of the ornate door, your heart urging you forward, yet your feet frozen in place. 

The door swung open, interrupting your silent debate with your own body. As if the Gods themselves would not force a decision this cruel on you. 

The chief doctor’s eyes widened slightly as she took in your presence. She recovered her composure quick enough, bowing low in respect. 

“My Lady,” she greeted, “I was just about to send a message to you. I suppose the Gods would rather I tell you in person.”

“Kocho,” you dipped your head in acknowledgement.

“Lord Shinazugawa’s body has been embalmed and it is ready for whenever you decide to hold the ritual for his entombment.”

You nodded.

You suspected she would have to do this exact charade with someone else if you carried through with what you were planning. 

“You’re dismissed for the day, Kocho.”

“But My Lady-“ 

Your gaze softened as you met your friend’s worried eyes. 

She seemed to hesitate as she asked, “Are you alright, My Lady?”

“I am, Shinobu,” you nodded reassuringly, “Truly. Thank you for everything. I will come find you later. I would like to see him. In solitude, please.” 

She bowed and left, but not before throwing a worried glance over her shoulder. 

You waited until she had vanished down the corridor to throw open the gold embossed doors to the medical wing. 

As you shut the doors behind you, your gaze landed on him. Sanemi Shinazugawa. Roman Consul. Triumvir of the Second Triumvirate. Mighty warrior. Your lover. Your ‘Nemi.

As you stepped closer, the wound on his chest, where he had stabbed himself with his sword, was glaringly obvious on his alabaster skin. 

You had seen him with scars, memorised every inch of the ones on his chest, his face and his arms. You never thought there would be one that would lead to him, lying lifeless in front of you. 

He did not seem dead. Only as though he was sleeping, as he did every night beside you. He seemed as though any moment, he would wake from his seemingly peaceful slumber and land his adoring lilac gaze on you, his lips curving into that beautiful smile.

Oh, what wouldn’t you sacrifice to have his eyes on you again. You would take every bit of disdain he may have towards you for your betrayals during battle, for faking your death. You would give everything just to have him back.

Every nerve in your body screamed to rudely interrupt his sleep and demand his affection, his hands over your body and his lips on yours. 

But you couldn’t. 

Your lover had taken his life two days ago. He had impaled himself on his own blade because he thought you were dead. 

He had bled out in your arms, on the floor of your chambers as you had wept in regret and heartache. 

Sanemi was dead. And it was all your fault.

“He has vowed to kill you himself, My Lady,” your messenger said.

You couldn’t blame him. Not really. If you’re being truthful, you understand the impetus.

So why did hearing your lover’s declaration (could you even call him that anymore?) coming from your messenger’s mouth feel like a knife being driven into your heart?

The thought that the very man who would spend hours whispering sweet nothings into your ear, making silly jokes that made you double over laughing, the man who made you feel like just a normal woman instead of an Empress equated to a Goddess, had now taken it upon himself to bring about your demise, was agony to your heart.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, ever the picture of grace and composure to your subjects.

“Tell him I have committed suicide.” 

“My- My Lady?”

“You heard me.

You had sent the damned message to protect your life.

But what of your heart?

Your heart that he’d held in his hands. 

The same hands that had held his sword as he fell upon it. The same hands that had held yours, bloodied and broken, but still warm. The same hands that had wiped away your tears as they fell, smearing blood over your face as he whispered his final confession of love towards you, smiling the way he always did.

“We shall meet in another life, my love,” he’d rasped before his hand went limp against your cheek and his body lifeless in your arms.

“SANEMI!”

You lunged forward to grab him from your guards with a piercing cry.

His mouth quivered into a wobbly smile as you clutched onto his broken form with a fierce protectiveness. Or was it a grimace? You sank to the floor, unable to support his weight any longer, resting his back against your raised thigh, holding him by his waist and supporting his head.

You shot a look towards your chamber doors, your guards taking the unspoken order to leave you alone.

“Well hello, dearest,” your lover’s weak voice said, drawing your attention back to him, “It would appear that you’ve lied to me once more.”

How this man found the gall to tease you, even on his deathbed, was admirable.

“Gods, I love you,” you whispered, running your hand along his stubble. It must have grown out during the time you’d been apart. 

He coughed, blood making its way out his mouth, as he clutched at his chest with an agonised groan. As his coughing fit subsided, he grinned at you, showing off his now blood stained teeth, “I love you too.”

You pressed down on his wound the way Shinobu had taught you, looking at him worriedly.

“I shall call for Kocho. You require medical att-”

Sanemi pressed a bloodied hand against your mouth, stopping you from continuing.

“No,” he whispered, “I’m afraid this is where it ends for me. I have decided it does. I fell on my sword because I couldn’t bear to live in a world without you in it. I shall not go back on my decision now.”

You shook your head, eyes pooling with tears, “Yes, but I am here, you fool. I am alive and you must stay with me. How am I to live without you?”

He took a shuddering breath, raising his hand to gently wipe your tears off your face. The metallic sting of iron hit your nose as his hand smeared his blood across your cheeks. His actions did nothing to soothe you, only making you sob more, hugging him tighter to your chest.

You cupped his face and watched as his own tears fell, rivulets of salty water, carving their way through the crusted red near the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice shaky, his hand never having left its task of wiping your tears away. “I love you so much, it hurts more than stabbing myself in my chest.”

Another pained exhale. 

“We shall meet in another life, my love,” he rasped, his hand slipping off your cheek and his head lolling back against your leg.

You hugged his body close to you, sobbing against his shoulder, knowing that his fingers would never comfortingly run through your hair again, that he’d wiped your tears off your face for the last time.

“I miss you ‘Nemi,” you murmured, ghosting your fingers across his now clean face. The memory of his features crusted over with blood had made your mind its home, Sanemi’s final moments coming back to you in your nightmares. 

The night of his death, you had refused to part with his body, laying in bed with his cold corpse, desperately praying to Isis to bring him back. To Ra to give you back the man you loved. 

But such is fate. 

The next morning you woke, feeling horrible, still in your royal robes, your eyes puffy from crying, Sanemi still dead, and Caesar’s declaration to take you as prisoner looming over your head.

An idea formed in your head, a way to escape the loss of your dignity and to be reunited with your lover.

“More,” you near sobbed between kisses, “Sanemi, please, I need more.”

His hands were running over your body, trailing over your sides, grabbing at the fat of your thighs, tweaking your nipple, leaving a trail of blazing need behind his touch. He was everywhere. Except where you needed him and it was driving you crazy.

You could feel his achingly hard dick pressing into your stomach. Just above where you wanted it.

Gods, this man was going to make you go insane.

You let out an almost embarrassingly loud moan into his mouth when his finger brushed against your clit, bucking your hips up, seeking more of his touch. 

“Desperate are we, Your Majesty?” he teased, relenting his attack on your lips to trail hot open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, stopping to suck at your breast, and continuing further down, before suddenly pulling away.

A light smirk played at his lips at your despondent whine. He leaned down, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, hovering his lips above yours.

His lilac gaze darted between your eyes and your lips, “If only Egypt could see the little whore their almighty queen becomes for a filthy Roman, hmm?” 

“If only your wife could see you fucking the Queen of Egypt, hmm?” you bit back, relishing in the way his eyes widened, the scar on his nose crinkling as he grinned at you.

His hand wandered down to rest between your thighs, parting your folds to rub slow circles around your clit, cocky grin never leaving his face. “Don’t you worry, My Queen. I know just what you want.” He brushed his lips along the shell of your ear, before whispering, “And I am going to give it to you.”

With that, he lined himself up with your dripping cunt and gently pushed in, inch- by- inch, drawing it out, making your eyes roll back into your head from the delicious stretch. 

“Alright there?” Sanemi’s voice forced you to open your eyes to meet his concerned gaze. 

Always one to take consent before he obliterated you. 

Letting out a pleased hum, you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to kiss him, your tongue moving languidly against his. “Move, ‘Nemi. Please. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Shh I got you, pretty,” he soothes, pulling his hips back, thrusting back into your pulsing heat, eliciting a wanton moan from your lips. 

He set the pace almost torturously slow, his cock moving in and out of your wet heat with sharp calculated thrusts, kissing your cervix every time he sank into you. 

He shifted slightly, pulling your torso up before settling a pillow he’d taken from the currently unused side of the bed under your lower back, gently setting you back. The change in position had your hips propped up, giving Sanemi a lot more leverage over the speed and depth of his thrusts. 

He gave his hips an experimental roll, his lips curling into a self satisfied smirk when you moaned, your fingers digging into his forearm. 

“So- so deep-“ you gasped.

“Am I now?” he groans as he picks up the pace. “C-can’t help it, darling. This sweet cunt is just sucking me in. Gods, you’re so warm- So wet for me. All f’me, huh?”

“Mh-Mhmm- Only for you, Sanemi, only you,” you whined, your walls clamping around him. Your hands found their way to his back, fingernails digging into the battle hardened skin as you clutched onto him, as he feverishly pounded into you.

“I love you,” Sanemi whispered reverently. “Dear Gods, I love you so much.”

Tears rolling down your cheek snapped you out of your reverie. 

The night he’d said 'I love you' for the first time. 

You’d spent the rest of the night tenderly making love, whispering hushed confessions of love to each other. 

He would never say the words to you again. 

Gods, how you missed him. 

You moved aside your robes to reveal the wicker basket hanging next to your leg. Your hands were shaky as you freed it from the rope tying it to the  inside of your robes.

Setting the sealed basket down on the floor, you turned to your dead lover, running a gentle hand along his jaw, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

“We shall meet once more, my dearest. In another life, you shall be mine for longer. And I shall cherish your smile with the fire of a thousand suns. Thank you. Our time was short, but precious all the same. I love you.”

You opened the basket, revealing the hissing asp. Smiling, you held your hand out towards the poisonous reptile, allowing it to slither onto your arm. 

You shivered at the coldness of the snake’s skin against the warmth of yours, a pained exhale forcing its way out of you when you felt the fangs pierce through the skin of your forearm. 

By no means were the effects to be immediate, you had done enough research to know that. 

You sat on the floor, next to where Sanemi’s embalmed body lay, for the longest hour of your life, watching the flesh of your forearm begin to bruise and swell up, stinging painfully. All the while you pondered if you should get up and find Shinobu. Make up some excuse about the bite. 

Would your people not consider you a coward should you go through with this?

But was it not a bigger disgrace to be paraded around as a trophy of war? 

No. You would not turn back on your decision. Just as Sanemi had not.

Consumed by the urge to see the face of your lover one last time, you pulled yourself off the floor with great effort, only for a wave of intense nausea to hit you, causing you to double over as you vomited your guts out.

Your legs trembled before giving in under your weight. You vaguely registered your ankle twisting, surely causing a sprain, as your senses dulled. Black spots danced around your vision and your mouth started dribbling foam.

The last thing you heard was a panicked shout of “MY LADY!” before giving in to the warm embrace of death.

tagging: @forest-hashira and @wifeyana

please dont repost or copy my work without my permission

reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

check out my masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

I swear, I'm always a day late for this...but that's ok because I was busy working on several things. 😏 First up, I FINALLY got chapter 29 of Destiny & Deliverance started. I admit, I was stalling because I do not want it to end, but I think I have gotten my mojo back. Yesterday, some things happened in my brain that caused plans to change a bit with this chapter...among other things (I'll get to the other things in a minute). No ETA on when it will be done, but just know I am working on it. Since we have had a bit of a D & D drought, I offer a snippet to hold you over:

I was humming along with the radio that was just barely audible through the speakers in the living room and tucking socks into a drawer when a piece of clothing landed on my head. I sighed, pulling it from my face as I turned toward the door. I narrowed my eyes at Dieter, who was standing there in nothing but his black jeans with his arm leaned against the door frame above his head. He eyed me with a flirty smirk on his face.  I scoffed, “What am I now, your dirty laundry basket?” I turned to throw his shirt into the hamper as he made his way over to me with a chuckle. His hands immediately snaked around my waist, pulling me tightly against him while his mouth searched out the spot behind my ear that always got me going. Instinctively, my fingers tangled into his hair. My humming turned into a heavy sigh as my skin broke out in goosebumps from his touch. This felt like a distraction. I managed to gather my thoughts well enough to focus on the news I had anxiously been waiting for. I tightened my grip on his hair, “How did the…ugh…meeting go?”  He groaned, “Eso no es importante en este momento.” Taking a minute to translate that to the best of my ability, I pulled away slightly, tilting his head by his hair to make him look at me. “Por qué?”

These two...are going to be too much. Just sayin...🥰😏 Anyone want to take a stab at guessing what the meeting was about and why he is avoiding talking about it? Ok, so on to the other things...I know some of you caught it already when I posted yesterday, but I did want to share more details. So, I had planned to just do random outtakes for D & D from Dieter's POV as extras. Within about an hours' time, that all changed and now we have this. It will actually be a companion series called Light in the Darkness. It will be from Dieter's POV covering the events that take place in D & D. I already have the outline done and the chapter titles posted. Now, the question is, how well can I channel my inner emotionally unstable man and write his breakdown from his POV. That remains to be seen. I plan to work on this while I work on Closed Position. I figure it may be good to have something less dark to work on at the same time. Otherwise, I may melt into an emotional mess. You will probably notice, the images for the header of this fic (below) contrast from D & D. We are going to get a lot of insight on Dieter's feelings when it comes to Talia. The intimacy and connection between them is something that is on his mind... A LOT. Not necessarily in regard to sex either. It's something he has never experienced, and it is ultimately what changes him. It should be interesting to explore his side of things and see what he was going through when he wasn't with Talia.

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose @annieispunk @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @copperhalfcent @bunniboo0015 @indiegirlunited

[sleepdeprivationbutitsvaruna]

Hey #GreekMythology tumblr, I want ya’lls help on something :).

So, I’ve been thinking about starting this massive project. Like, would take years and years work of writing and research and sheerly finding the time and motivation for. And as I was thinking about the specifics, I thought: why not bring others into it as well? Because as much as I am interested in a lot of Greek Mythology, there are things that are simply not my interests and might cause writers block and my goal for the project would to be as fun as possible. So, here we are.

What is the project exactly? Well, hopefully, it’ll be a long Ao3 series/fic focusing on the individual perspectives of various figures/events in Greek Mythology arranged in (semi/good enough) chronological order. I personally intend to write for Poseidon in his/my version of the Titanomachy and (maybe) some events that follow, if you want a little bit of an idea on what I’m talking about.

The limits on this are almost completely free, all that I ask are that each of your submissions are one POV only (and by that I mean your main subject’s POV). Why do I say this? I say this because that is what I want this project to look like. It doesn’t matter if it’s First, Second, or Third POV along with all the other variants of those three, my main focus is on the individual experiences of these individuals. Kind of like character studies, if you know what I mean. I’m intending for it to be mostly formal but I will absolutely accept crack admissions that I will probably put into its own series to Separate the Vibes for whoever comes by :).

Ultimately, this is a completely open-ended project that has absolutely no deadline. I’m about to go to bed so I can’t go into too much detail, but if you want to DM me or send any asks, I am completely okay with that and we’ll all flesh out the specifics we go :).

What is my overall purpose? Not only is this project made for my own individual purposes of learning more about the gods and other Greek Mythology writers, but it’s also the chance to spread the word of other writers. I know how hard it is to get specific audiences, especially when you’re shy, so this is a chance for your work to be stumbled upon. Each post on the eventual Ao3 fic will include your socials, how to find you, and your other general works on either ao3, tumblr, wattpad, or other :)

Can you participate even without socials or a tumblr page? Yes you absolutely can :). My asks will always be open to anons and I will do my best to give credit when I eventually post everything :). If you want to post multiple submissions or simply just want a trackable (between works) name to your writing, just sign something at the end. It could be a name, it could be a potential username, I don’t mind at all :)).

How do I submit things? Well, the best way would be to DM me :). I have a personal writing email separate from most things that would be perfect to either share a google docs with or to just send a copy-and-pasted copy of it. Otherwise, I take asks. None of them will be posted unless asked or we’re ready to so it’ll be safe to just drop them off in! It’s also where I take questions :).

Any other things to note? I’d really appreciate some other moderators and editors :). There’d only be like two or three of each and we’d have to know each other decently well before officially starting, but some help would be appreciated! Also, I’d like to keep a working ‘spreadsheet’ of who’s working on what just for people to see what’s going on :). Maybe some people can collaborate or it’ll encourage those niche writers to write :). A third thing is that most questionable stuff is accepted. I’d personally rather not handle all those things other than posting it so it might be a while until I can officially accept (consensual and/or graphic) ✨spicy stuff✨ but, other than that, I’ll take any of it (also, it’s Greek Mythology, almost all of it already happened). If someone’s willing to take over the ✨spicy stuff✨ then please DM me so we can work out the details and see if it’s a nice fit :)

Honestly, that all should be it. The main point is that I’m trying to start up a long-term project on Tumblr and Ao3 about what is essentially Greek Mythology character studies that not only allows for mass communication across a wide audience, but also (hopefully) gets some recognition for the smaller writers :). Feel free to DM me or send me asks with questions but for now, I shall sleep

Tagging: @bluebellstudio @thirteen-deaths-later @0lympian-c0uncil @happyk44 @h0bg0blin-meat @sworeontheriverstyx @deathlessathanasia @gotstabbedbyapen. Sorry if I tagged you and you want nothing to do with it, I just wanted to get it out there /pos /gen

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Party

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 3,924

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

Previous Next

Summary: A slow burn Tav and Halsin romance fic about their relationship forming between the major events of Baldur's Gate 3, and probably a little bit after too. Explores Tav's friendships with some of the other companions, but mainly Karlach. Lots of longing and fluff, including plenty of soft Halsin moments.

Tags: Slow burn, hurt/comfort, love confessions, eventual smut, light angst, implied past rape/non-con

A/N: After starting another playthrough specifically to romance Halsin, I decided to write some additional details of how their relationship forms throughout the game. Not sure how many chapters there will be yet...we'll see where the game takes me :) There will be POVs from both Tav and Halsin throughout the fic. Enjoy!

Tav retrieved one of her arrows from the many corpses strewn about the courtyard. The inside of the temple was just as bloody of a sight. Three True Souls had been defeated and the remaining goblins slaughtered at their hands. One of the leaders lingered in her mind – Minthara, the drow. When their minds mingled, Tav saw something in her memories that she couldn’t quite place. She wasn’t sure how many more of these cultists they would be facing, but she had started to feel uneasy during this past battle. It dawned on her that the only difference between her adventuring party and these True Souls was the strange artefact they carried. Had they not been chosen for this mysterious protection, they would be meeting the same fate at the hands of a different group of adventurers.

She looked back around at her companions. Astarion was limping his way between all the bodies, checking their pockets with disturbing efficiency. Gale was sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall while catching his breath and favoring a twisted ankle. Karlach was helping Tav gather arrows and other weapons around them. A golden glow enveloped their bear companion, transforming him back into an elf.

“You did it. You actually did it.” He was smiling at her, his voice full of admiration. “There are no words to thank you for what you have done today, my friend.”

“Think nothing of it, I was happy to help.” She was still out of breath from the fighting, a small trail of blood tickled her cheek.

“It was everything.” One of his large hands rested on her shoulder. “Forgive me, but I must make haste back to the Grove. I can…see to some matters there and we can discuss your next steps further once you’re able to meet me.” He placed his fist across his chest with a small bow of his head.

Tav nodded her reply as he wildshaped into a rat and ran away.

“Let’s do another sweep of the place, make sure there’s nothing useful that we should take.” She suggested, gaining a small whoop of approval from Astarion.

They did a full sweep of the temple, eventually finding a secret entrance into the Underdark. Tav took note of that for later, she thought she had heard a rumor of a passageway from below that led to Moonrise. Only if we have to go there, she thought to herself. She was desperately trying to hide her anxiety from her companions. Halsin had sensed it when they were talking, but she sensed something from him as well. More of a deep sadness than anxiety.

Luckily, they also found plenty of useful items scattered about. Healing potions, weapons, armor, an abundance of camp supplies and no small amount of gold. They loaded Karlach up with as much as she could possibly carry before making the trek back to the Emerald Grove.

Once they arrived, they took the time to sell some of the extra equipment they had found, exchanging for additional potions and elixirs. Tav was being constantly stopped for one tiefling or another to offer their gratitude. She smiled and accepted their thanks, feeling awkward about being in the spotlight. Being alone by choice for so long made it overwhelming to be the center of attention again. As a new pair of hands seemed to touch her with every step she took, a hazy memory rushed forward to the front of her mind.

She was standing in a vast ballroom, wearing a light, elegant gown. The small circlet adorning her temple was light as a feather but weighed heavily on her shoulders that night. The room around her was filled with colorful patrons. All of them dancing and spinning together, slowly getting drunk on the extravagant selection of wines. She was constantly being pushed into one suitor or another, each doing their best to woo her into their arms. Their wandering hands were not as subtle as they thought, and she had to resist the urge to break their fingers on many occasions. If she caused too much of a scene, Father would not be pleased. Just as she thought she would have to headbutt the handsy nobleman groping her ass, her true knight in shining armor came twirling to her rescue.

Tev’aron, her older brother. He slammed his hips into the drunk noble, acting equally as drunk. She couldn’t help but giggle since she knew for a fact he would never partake. He offered multiple slurred apologies before easily taking his dancing position.

“Hello, Ria.” He flashed his mischievous smile at her, his drunken façade gone. “Your suitors this evening are serious lightweights. Father hasn’t even brought out the liquor yet. Best to pass on this batch as well, they’ll never keep up with this family’s drinking.”

“My hero.” She rolled her eyes at him. Tev was her best friend, always swooping in to rescue her when her noble duties got too overwhelming. And by noble duties, she meant being fondled by strange men.

They danced together in silence for a while, Tev earning dirty looks from the men around them. His ivory curls bounced lightly around his face as they moved around the dance floor.

“Tav’ahria…” He said quietly. “Why do you put up with this? You’re more than just a pretty collectible to be paraded about. You could snap the necks of half of the men in here before anyone realized what had happened. Have you thought more on my suggestion?”

It was all she had thought about for the last tenday. Tev’aron was planning on running away to join the Harpers, and he wanted her to come with him.

“I don’t know, Tev. If Father ever caught up with us…” She could see her parents on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with some diplomat from Cormyr.

“He doesn’t care enough about us to have us followed.” Tav’ahria could taste the venom in her brother’s words.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Ria.” He continued, his tone softening. “I can’t bear the thought of leaving you here to be married off to the highest bidder. You deserve more than that.”

She closed her eyes and hugged her brother tightly, desperate to keep a few more moments to herself before she was forced back into her flirtatious mingling.

“Alright, alright. That’s quite enough. The poor woman is bruised to the hells and back, she doesn’t need your extra hands on her.” Astarion’s voice cut through her daydream. Tav snapped back to the present, staring at him in surprise. He was bouncing around her, slapping away hands from her arms and shoulders.

“Astarion? What are you doing?” She asked quietly, still a little disoriented from her thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, nothing I just noticed you were maybe a tad overwhelmed by the affection coming your way. I can’t have all of this attention going to your head, darling.” He smiled sweetly at her, but there was something in his expression that Tav couldn’t quite place. For just a moment, it was like Tev’aron was standing in front of her again, fighting off unwanted advances.

“Of course. Thank you.” She smiled weakly back at him, fighting the tears stinging her eyes.

“Speaking of bruises,” she poked his arm lightly, “we should get back to camp soon. A couple more and you could easily pass for a drow.” He was not amused by her joke, but Karlach was cackling behind them.

“Fine. Let’s find your new lover and head back to camp.” He shot back at her.

“Excuse me?” Tav could feel a blush moving across her face.

“Oh please, Tav. You obviously wanted to climb that brawny druid like the tree he is.” He continued teasing.

“You’re really close to getting those last few bruises my soon-to-be drow friend.” Her gritted teeth were causing her jaw to ache. Astarion thought better of pushing her and turned away with a cheeky smirk.

Tav groaned as she felt her skin getting warmer across her face and chest.

“For what it’s worth, soldier…I think he might have liked you too.” Karlach had walked up beside her, hand hovering supportively above Tav’s shoulder so she wouldn’t get burnt.

“Ugh let’s just wrap up here and get back to camp. We have a party to prepare for after all.” Tav smiled at the large tiefling, surprised by how quickly she had gotten attached to her.

They wandered further into the Grove just in time to see Halsin finishing up a heated conversation with Kagha.

“…you may stay but consider yourself a novice anew.” Halsin’s voice had taken on a much more imposing tone compared to when they spoke in the goblin camp. “You have forgotten the ways of the druids.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, Master Halsin.” Kagha gave a small bow before walking away.

“You’ll have your hands full with her.” Tav called from behind him.

Halsin’s expression immediately softened when he saw her, causing Tav’s heart to skip a beat.

“The understatement of the century, my friend. Misjudgments aside, the Emerald Grove will have need of her. Still, nature prevailed on this day. The Grove stands, and I have you to thank.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to say something to him, but caught Astarion peeking out from behind Halsin, grinning at her. Tav glared back at him.

“So, what happens now? Will you still come with us to Moonrise?” She was trying to keep her voice from sounding too hopeful.

“Yes of course, I’ll join you in your camp for the celebration later and come morning, I will be at your side.” He still had his hand on her shoulder. His smile was making her knees feel weak. Astarion and Karlach could barely contain their giggles at his last statement. Their lips sputtered as they tried, and failed, to hide their laughter. Gale looked between all of them, confused. Halsin walked away with a small nod.

“I can’t help but feel I may have missed something while I was dead.” Gale was searching each of their faces for a way to decode their inside joke. Astarion hopped up next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Let me catch you up, my friend.” He dragged Gale alongside him, Tav just buried her face in her hands.

They wrapped up their business at the Grove, talking to Nettie and Rath who each gave them rewards for their efforts. Tav helped the last few straggling tieflings to pack up their remaining belongings. After a few more heartfelt thanks thrown their way, the four of them started the trek back to camp.

***

The sun was just starting to set as Halsin wandered into the small encampment. He had taken some extra time to say his goodbyes at the Grove. A letter was sent to the High Forest to request his replacement as Archdruid, a decision that brought him more shame than he expected. Not because he was leaving his position, but because of the overwhelming relief he felt after sending the letter. He never coveted that position, it was thrust onto his shoulders, but now he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Like he was abandoning those who had looked up to him for years.

Around the camp, it looked as if most of the refugees had already arrived, but there were some unfamiliar faces as well. He saw a Githyanki woman engrossed in the act of sharpening her sword, the shrill sound cutting through the various conversations. Another man with dark skin stood alone just off the edge of the camp. He looked like another tiefling but something was different about him. There was a young half-elf woman who appeared to be brooding into a glass of wine. From what he could gather, they had to be the other unlucky souls who had been kidnapped alongside Tav. Quite the curious group to be travelling together.

He looked around at the smiling faces, finding a feeling of relief and joy in them that he hadn’t seen in these people since he met them. It had been so long since he had witnessed the kindness of a stranger that he had seen today. His eyes scanned the camp until they found Tav. He watched as she stood next to Zevlor, wine glass in hand, waving her hand slowly in front of her, undoubtedly trying to waive off any praise for her good deeds today. She had changed out of her bloodied armor into a blue, sleeveless outfit. The corset-like shirt accentuated her hips, showing off more of her figure than he could see in the leathers she had been wearing. Her muscular back and arms were highlighted by the warm light of the sunset, not to mention her hair which was now tumbling freely down her back. The color and luster of the strands put the most beautiful of pearls to shame. Desire ached in his chest for the first time in years, a warm feeling that made his heart race. He felt like a lovestruck 60 year old again, he couldn’t stop staring at her, taking in every curve of her body. She suddenly turned around and caught his stare. He could feel his cheeks redden, yet he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. A huge smile spread across her face, making his heart skip a beat.

Oakfather preserve me…

She turned back to Zevlor and said something unintelligible before walking towards him. He shuffled awkwardly in place, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. They tugged nervously at pieces of his clothing as he averted his gaze towards the ground.

Oh, stop it you old fool. Nothing can happen anyway. You must stay focused.

When he looked back up, Tav had been stopped by a few more grateful refugees. He just barely noticed how she flinched at their touches, obviously uncomfortable by the contact. All her injuries from the day seemed to have healed properly, he couldn’t see any trace of bruises or cuts. With each person that reached out to touch her, the smile on her face twisted, no longer reaching her eyes. It looked flat and lifeless, like a mask. Eventually, she broke away again and continued towards him.

“I was starting to worry that you had changed your mind.” She called out once she was close enough.

“Nonsense, I just had a few additional matters to attend to at the Grove. It seems my absence had a larger impact than I had hoped.”

She gave him a curious look.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, I promised you my aid and you shall have it.” He didn’t have the energy to explain himself to her right now.

“Okay, well if you want, I could introduce you to the rest of the camp. I’m sure the others are anxious to meet you.” She held out her hand. He started to reach out for her but thought better of it.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure you have many other pleasantries to dole out this evening. It would be rude of me to keep you for too long.” He tried to smile back at her, but her expression fell slightly and her hand dropped back to her side.

“I uh…I do want to apologize for earlier today.” She ran a hand nervously through her hair.

“Whatever for?” Halsin was racking his brain trying to figure out what she could have done to warrant an apology.

“When we first met, I wasn’t exactly uh…subtle. I can’t help but feel that I made a real ass of myself. I’m not always great with first impressions.” Her face had turned slightly pink, now matching the color of her eyes. Halsin relaxed slightly. “When we were sent to find an all-knowing Archdruid, I was sort of expecting an old man. Not someone young like you.”

He let out a snorting laugh at that.

“Young? You are too kind. It’s not exactly a word I would use to describe my age.”

“Oh please, I put you at hardly middle age for an elf.” She was smiling again, a real smile, the sight caused another wave of warmth to wash over him.

“Regardless, let me put your mind at ease. I judge others based on their actions, and yours have spoken clearly for you. You have nothing to apologize for, my friend.” He placed a reassuring hand on her arm, noticing that she didn’t flinch away from him. “As long as we’re being honest, I was just as shocked to see a lovely noble elf to come to my rescue in a dirty goblin camp.” She blushed again.

“Now go on, enjoy yourself. Don’t waste your evening talking to me. There are many other grateful people who wish to spend time with you.”

“Take your own advice, come have a drink with me. I’d like to get to know you if we’re going to travel together.” She was still smiling sweetly at him as she placed her hand over his.

His heart started to race. How he yearned to feel a sense of companionship again, a luxury he couldn’t afford often in the last century or so.

Careful, Halsin. You cannot tolerate such a distraction now.

“Not unless you want to hear my terrible singing, or a love confession to the first soul that crosses my drunken path.” He chuckled as he slowly removed his hand from her arm, she laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine.

“I fail to see the problem. I grew up in Baldur’s Gate, that was a daily occurrence for me.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” The words escaped his lips before he could stop them, causing his breath to catch. Tav’s expression shifted, a playful smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Well, there’s other things we could do to get to know one another. If you’re not up for talking or drinking.” She chewed on her lower lip as she held his gaze.

No, not subtle at all.

He could barely control the grin threatening to spread across his face. It wasn’t often that potential partners were so forward with him. A small chuckle started in his chest making its way past his lips.

Silvanus give me strength…

“I have no doubt you could think of something. You strike me as extremely…resourceful.” He took a deep breath. “But as I said, there’s many others here who wish to spend time with you. I must not keep you all to myself, as enjoyable as that may be.”

“I understand.” She said with a small smile. “I’d best go claim some of the wine before it runs out, everyone seems particularly thirsty tonight. We’ll talk in the morning?”

“Of course. Oakfather preserve you, friend.” He gave a small bow of his head before she turned away.

If Tav was disappointed, she hid it well. He kept watching her as she strode through the camp accepting handshakes and compliments, as she checked in with each of her companions, and then finally until she went and sat by Karlach holding two large bottles of wine. The rest of the evening was uneventful, he allowed himself an evening of peace watching the happy scene before him. He longed to feel as carefree as those around him, but it would have to wait. For a hundred years he had been seeking favor with Silvanus and he couldn’t lose that focus now, not even for such a sweet temptation as Tav.

***

Tav walked over to the small box containing several bottles of wine. Hopefully her embarrassment wasn’t too obvious to everyone else around her. She couldn’t quite figure Halsin out, he seemed interested in her, but it was like something was holding him back. Two large bottles of firewine caught her attention. She grabbed them both and made her way over to the riverbank where Karlach was sitting.

“Want some company?” Tav asked, the wine held out in front of her.

“As long as one of those is for me.” Karlach smiled up at her and patted the ground next to her. Tav took a seat and handed over one of the bottles.

“What are you doing out here, soldier? I figured you’d be wrapped up in vines tonight or whatever weird stuff druids are into.” She uncorked the bottle with her teeth and took a large drink.

“Eh, he didn’t seem to go for it. I wasn’t exactly delicate either. I guess we were wrong.” Tav lifted the bottle to her lips, the spice of the wine helping to drive away the cool breeze.

“Really? He seemed a bit smitten with you. Nevermind though, let’s find you someone else, my friend. You and Astarion have been awful flirty. I’m sure he’d at least be fun.” Karlach’s suggestion nearly caused Tav to choke on her drink.

“I don’t think he’s quite my type, love. He…reminds me too much of someone.” She took another large swig of the wine.

“Okay then, how about Gale? He’s got gorgeous eyes, and you two seem to be fast friends. You could always add a little something to that friendship.” Karlach batted her eyelashes at her, causing Tav to laugh.

“I don’t think I want to risk an explosion the size of Waterdeep for a night of fun. Besides, I don’t think Gale is the casual relationship kind of man.”

“Fucks’ sake, mate. I’m trying to help you here.” Karlach chuckled into her bottle.

“Well, that still leaves Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart. What do you think my chances are with them?” She leaned back onto her elbows, nestling her wine bottle in the sand.

“I think Lae’zel is still upset with you for stepping in on her ‘interrogation’ so she may be out. Wyll has been moping in a corner since we got back to camp, I don’t think he’s in a fun mood tonight. As for Shadowheart, how are you feeling about her Shar worship?” Karlach gave her a knowing look.

“Okay, looks like you’re stuck with me for the evening.” Tav winked at her.

“Well then, welcome to the club of the touch-starved and sexually frustrated, my friend.” She held up her wine bottle and Tav lifted her own to clink against it.

“Happy to be here, love.” Both of them took long drinks and settled in for the evening. They talked long after the others retired for the night, enjoying their bottles of wine and telling jokes and stories from their pasts. Nothing tragic, even though they both had their share of sob stories. Tonight, they focused on happy memories – tales of foes felled, lovers of their past, their favorite foods from Baldur’s Gate. She recounted her conversation with Halsin, trying to hide her disappointment. Karlach still insisted that she had a chance with him. Tav burned herself twice giving Karlach friendly nudges, her instincts causing her to forget about her fiery skin. But she didn’t mind, the injuries only made them laugh harder. Their words started to slur slightly as their bottles emptied. It was refreshing to sit and laugh with her for so long, Tav didn’t have many people in her long life that she could truly call a friend. But it was easy with Karlach. They ended up falling asleep in the sand, the heat from Karlach keeping Tav warm thought the night as she drifted off into a trance.

[luke-hughes43]

Hey!

So this is my first time writing something and then publishing it so I'd love feedback. All I ask is that you be nice about it pls! Hope you like it!

Background: You and Luke have been best friends since birth and you both are freshman at the University of Michigan. You have had feelings for him since you were 15 and always thought that he didn’t reciprocate them so you never told him. One night, at a party thrown by the hockey team, everything between you and Luke changes.

This is best friends to lovers and there’s a bit of jealous Luke.

Y/N’s POV

So Luke invited me to some party that the upperclassman were throwing to celebrate the win they got tonight. Told me to bring my roommate, Kathryn (I call her Kat),  who has become my best friend. We show up at like 10:45 and quickly find a drink. After that we go off to find Luke.

We find him with a couple of his teammates. I smile when I see him and he returns it. He says, “Y/N/N you made it!”

“I always do when you ask me too. Great game tonight.” I say with a smile. He smiles and pulls me in for a hug. I graciously hug him finding comfort in his arms like always. 

Kat pulls my attention, “Hey, lets go find our girls. I think I saw them in the living room. You can flirt with Luke later.”

“Fine. I’ll see you later moose.” I flash a smile at him. He smiles back and releases his hold on me before I head off with Kat. She asks, “When are you gonna tell him how you feel?”

“I’m not. He’s my best friend. I’m not gonna ruin that.” I say.

She sighs and drops the conversation. She’s been trying to get me to tell him since we got a little too wine drunk one night and I blurted out that I’m in love with him. She drags me over to the rest of our friend group that always gets invited to hockey events. 

We all just start dancing and having a good time together. I volunteer to get everyone new drinks. I grab everyone seltzers and we just keep having a good time. Some guy that I recognize from my econ class comes over, I think his name is nick, and starts flirting with me. 

“Hey gorgeous.” He smiles. I smile back, “Hey. It’s nick right? I think we have econ together.”

“We do. You are the one always asking and answering the questions from the professor. Really smart girl.” He says with a smirk on his face. He puts his hands around my waist and steps a little closer to me. I smile up at him getting a little shy, “Well thank you.”

“You here with Hughes?” He asks.

I shake my head, “No. He invited me but I’m here with my friends. Why?”

“I always see you around with him and everything. I like knowing how tough the competition is.” He says striking at me some more which makes me confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“How about you let me take you out sometime and I show you what I mean?”

“Ok sure.” I say smiling at him. He’s a pretty good looking guy and since Luke isn’t interested I might as well move on. We start having a conversation about our class together as we know that we have it in common. Luke comes over and interrupts, “Hey can I borrow her for a sec? Thanks.”

He doesn’t give either of us time to respond before he’s pulling my by the arm away from Nick. He gets me upstairs and alone. He looks pissed off and angrily says, “What the hell were you doing down there?”

“Talking to Nick?” I say like it’s obvious. He snaps back, “You were flirting with him!”

“Ok and?”

“Do you seriously not see why I’m upset?”

“No. Why should I? All you did was drag me away and get mad about me talking to him. That’s all you’ve done since we got to school Luke, get mad at me for talking to other guys.”

“It’s because I love you Y/N!”

“What?” I say confused. 

“I love you Y/N. I have since were like 14 or something. I never thought that you would feel the same so I never said anything but it’s killing me. I’m in love with you and I have been for years. I can’t keep watching you flirt with guys over and over again.”

“Luke…” I start but he cuts me off, “I get it that you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry that if I just ruined everything but I love you and you deserve to know and…” 

I cut him off by kissing him. It takes a second to register in his head what’s going on but once it does, he’s pulling me close to him. My hands go the back of his neck and I start playing with the ends of his hair.

Eventually we pull away for air and we’re both breathing heavily. I say, “I love you too Luke. I have for a while.”

He smiles and kisses me softly, “well then, I guess that only leaves room for one question. Y/N L/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’d be honored to.” I say with a smile. 

We kiss one last time before going back to the party. He leads me back down while holding my hand. We head over to his friends and I stay tucked into his side as his arm is wrapped around my shoulder holding me close. My eyes scan the room for Kat and she gives me a look that questions what happened.

I smile and nod at her which is all she needs to put the pieces together that I finally told him about my feelings. She smiles back and jumps a little bit which makes me laugh. My attention is pulled back to the guys when I hear Dylan Duke, Luke’s best friend and roommate say, “Looks like hughesy finally made a move. Only took you 4 years.”

The guys all start giving Luke shit about waiting so long and it causes me to blush and hide in Luke’s chest. He tightens his grip on me and says, “alright alright. We get it, I waited a while to tell her. Can we move on please?”

The conversation gets changed and Luke just rubs his hand up and down my back. I stick with him the rest of the night with a smile on my face, finally being with the boy that I’ve loved since I was 15.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part fifty: "The Interview"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re struggling to finish writing an article at The Bulletin when your work day is unexpectedly interrupted.

Or

Those two men clearly aren't chauffeurs and they are definitely not taking you to an interview.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.7k

a/n: This installment beings our descent into the Big Angst arc. Forewarning, there is no comfort in the next handful of installments. Not until you get to "The Aftermath" do you begin to see comfort which is Part fifty-eight. Just a head's up for those who can't handle no comfort without all of the installments posted. We also from now on begin to get occasional Matt POVs! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here, and if you're enjoying it let me know!!

Running your hands through your hair, you stared blankly at your computer monitor. You had almost finished your article, though your word count was just a bit under what you needed it to be for an upcoming issue. Your mind felt like it was turning to mush the longer you stared at the document, willing more thoughts to come to you. With a loud, frustrated groan, you threw your face in your hands. A second later you heard the telltale sound of Katy’s computer chair wheeling back towards your cubicle.

“Struggling still?” she asked.

“Yes,” you whined into your hands. “I can’t think of two hundred more words to say about this upcoming event of which I personally don’t care about.”

“I hear that,” Katy sighed out. “Why don’t you just step away for a bit? No one else is here, Ellison won’t care. Go visit your man or something.”

“Can’t,” you said, sliding your hands down your face. “Court day today. His phone is off and I can’t exactly barge into the courtroom.”

“I mean you could,” Katy replied, shooting you a grin. “Bet he’d have some frustrations of his own to work out, if you know what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing yourself back into your chair. “Katy,” you groaned, “why is it always about sex with you?”

“Have you suddenly gone blind?” she shot back, ignoring the look you sent her at the comment. “Your man is smoking hot. Like sure, he sounds absolutely sweet and smart and wonderful and charming from everything else you’ve told me, but like, don’t tell me you’re not always wanting to bang him when he walks into a room. Because I will not believe you.”

"Okay, you're not entirely wrong," you conceded, "but there's vastly more to that man than sex, Katy."

"Of course there is," she cooed, suddenly adopting a teasing tone. "Because you love him. You want to marry him. You want to fuck his brains out and have an entire horde of fucking beautiful little babies with him."

You snorted out a laugh, shaking your head. "Something along those lines, I suppose," you said with a laugh. You abruptly shot her a stern look as her eyes went wide at your admission, pointing a firm finger at her chest. "But that is strictly between us, Katy. You hear me? I don't need to scare him away."

Katy exaggeratedly rolled her eyes back at you. "Oh please, that man is practically married to you already," she said. "Sending lunches to you, walking you home from the office. Asking you to move in on your terms . Buying you expensive flowers when you have a bad day. Taking long ass road trips to spend the holidays with your family."

Your brows furrowed as you glanced back at your computer monitor. "That…doesn't mean he's thinking about marriage," you said slowly. 

"Doesn't it?" Katy shot back, brows raised. 

"No, it just means–"

Your sentence was cut short when you heard your name called through the office. Both you and Katy exchanged a look before you hesitantly rose to your feet. Two large men in suits were standing by the main office door, one of them with a very noticeable scar along his forehead. Both of them had dark, short cropped hair and stern expressions. Your palms began to sweat at the sight of them, your hands balling into fists at your sides. Even under their dark suits you could see their muscles, and the possible shape of something far more dangerous and deadly. 

"That's me," you answered, trying hard to sound like you weren't quickly becoming nervous. "Can I help you?"

"We were asked to invite you for an interview," the man with the scar told you, a false polite smile flashing at you across the room. 

Your brows furrowed, your heart beginning to race. "Oh? I–I didn't have any interviews scheduled for today," you replied, voice shaking.

"No, but Mr. Backman would very much like to discuss some things with you," Scar Face continued. 

"Uh, well, now is not really the best time," you told them quickly, cold fear shooting through your body. You could feel Katy's eyes burning a hole into the side of your head as you spoke. "I have a deadline I'm trying to meet right now. But I could schedule something for later this week?"

The man beside Scar Face crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his arms becoming more prominent with the gesture. You swallowed hard in response, eyes drawn to his intimidating figure; they were obviously trying to scare you and it was very much working. Your fists curled tighter, nails beginning to bite into your skin.

"Well you see," Not Scar Face said slowly, holding your stare unblinkingly as he spoke, "Mr. Backman sent a car for you to come for an interview now. He doesn't exactly do rescheduling."

"You're uh, sure about that?" you asked weakly. 

"Very sure about that," Scar Face agreed. 

Licking your lips nervously, you tried not to externally show how much you were internally panicking. You didn't seem to have a way out of this. They were currently blocking your only exit, and judging by the strange way their suit coats were fitting them, you were certain there was a gun under at least Scar Face’s jacket. It was currently just you and Katy here at the office, too; no other witnesses or hope for any backup were around. And you doubted you could make a call to police, stall these men long enough for them to get here, and then manage to have any sort of excuse to get these men arrested. And if you somehow did manage that, you were certain more men would come for you. And they’d probably be a lot less pleasant and cordial than these two currently were. Not to mention, if you did the wrong thing here, you could be putting Katy in harm's way.

No, you were going to have to go with them, and if they didn't kill you, Matt certainly would after this. 

"Alright, well, do you mind if I just use the bathroom real quick before we go?" you asked carefully, nails biting further into your sweat-dampened palms. 

Not Scar Face was about to respond, his mouth opening as he managed the first syllable, but Katy popped up in her cubicle beside you and briefly startled the two men. Their attention immediately shifted to her short frame, both of them tensing as they took in the sight of her. You saw Scar Face’s hand inching towards the inside of his suit coat, but Katy’s eyes were only on you when she spoke. 

"You need a new tampon before you go?" she asked loudly, ignoring how the two men pulled faces at her question. Her eyes remained fixed on you as she threw out the question you'd both agreed on in the event one of you were ever in a dangerous situation. 

"Yes, actually,” you told her, shooting her a strained smile. “I could use another.”

“Just make it quick,” Scar Face snapped from across the room. “Mr. Backman doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Your attention focused back on the two men across the room as Katy bent down and rummaged through her purse for an actual tampon. Your hand was searching blindly along your desk for your phone as you held their gaze, trying to come across as inconspicuous as you could. 

“Of course,” you said, forcing the strained smile to remain on your face as your hand finally collided with it. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” you assured them as you slowly slipped the device into your pocket.

You turned, breath feeling like it was catching in your throat and stomach roiling uncomfortably with nerves. You focused on Katy, her eyes still locked only on you as she dramatically held up the tampon so the men across the office could see she was indeed handing you one.

“Here,” she said loudly, crossing the space towards you. As you accepted the tampon from her, she quickly whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “Call the cops when you leave?”

“Ah, thank you!” you said, nodding faintly.

She sent you a tense smile before you turned and tried to walk as casually as you could towards the women’s bathroom just in the hallway near your cubicle. You pushed the door open, fighting the tremor in your hands as you did, and continued all the way to a stall before locking yourself in. Hands still shaking, you took a moment to catch your breath, tossing the tampon on the bathroom floor. 

You needed to call Matt.

Slipping your phone out of your pocket, you pulled up your contacts and immediately dialed his number. You held the phone to your ear, but just as you suspected, it went straight to his voicemail. Because he was in court and he always had his phone turned off when he was in court. Closing your eyes, you whispered a curse into the bathroom stall. He’d already recessed for lunch just over an hour ago, you had no idea when he’d be out of court for the day and see your message. But you had to leave one anyway, hoping that he’d get it. 

At the beep you took a deep, shuddering breath and began your message, trying not to be too loud in case the men were somehow waiting near the bathroom.

“Matt, uh, I have a very big problem,” you began nervously. “There’s two men who just showed up at my office. They’re saying Backman sent a car for me for an interview.” You paused, eyes closing as you tried to keep your breathing even–falling into a panic attack would be a terrible idea right now. “I–I don’t think they’re your usual chauffeurs, though. I’m pretty sure one of them has a gun in their suit coat. And I have no idea where they’re going to take me.” 

Your mouth felt like it was going dry and you swallowed hard, trying to talk faster. You didn’t know how much longer you could pretend you were just using the bathroom. 

“It’s only Katy and I at the office,” you continued in a rush. “She’s calling the cops when I’m gone. I–I don’t see any other options here, Matt. I have to go with them.” You exhaled a shaky breath, the full weight of the situation you were trapped in hitting you hard. “You were right,” you whispered into your phone. “When guys with guns come after me, I’m not the one who knows how to fight back. You are.” 

Chewing your lip, your heart thundering in your chest, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes as a multitude of fears raced frantically through your mind. Would Matt even get this message in time to help? How would he even find where they were taking you? What did Backman even want with you? 

And were you even going to make it out of this alive?

Quickly you brushed away a tear that had slipped down your cheek with the back of your free hand. Fighting down a wave of nausea, you shakily whispered into your phone, “I–I have to go before they realize what I’m doing.” You paused one brief moment, blinking back tears. “I love you, Matt,” you breathed out, voice so quiet even to your own ears.

Pulling the phone from your ear, you hung up. Once again you wiped away the tears that had fallen from your cheeks before you exited the bathroom stall on unsteady legs. You began to slide your phone back into your pocket, but then you briefly paused, pulling it back out and looking down at the little device. They’d surely take your phone from you, probably destroy it so no one could track you with it, right? It’s not like they’d just let you make some calls and shoot some texts with it, so what was the point in bringing it with you? Maybe if you left it behind you’d seem more like a clueless and harmless reporter thinking you were really just going for an interview. Maybe that could work in your favor. 

You could do that. You could play innocent and dumb. So innocent and dumb you didn’t think to grab your phone–because who doesn’t carry their phone? Naive and clueless air-headed people, right? Especially someone who wasn’t thinking they were about to be kidnapped.

With shaking hands, you tossed your phone onto the bathroom counter away from you. Your stomach felt like it was sinking to the floor as you tossed away your only lifeline before walking straight into certain danger. Exhaling one last long breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way out of the bathroom.

Katy spun around on her office chair, her back rigid where she sat. The two men were still standing in front of the exit, arms crossed and looking quite intimidating. Walking towards them felt incredibly wrong, everything in your body screaming not to. You wished you could fight like Matt in this moment, wished you could knock them both out and get you and Katy out of the building–but you weren’t Matt. You weren’t Daredevil. You were just a reporter who’d made a mistake in your investigation and you were about to pay for it.

“Hey, we’re still on for tonight, right?” Katy asked you, her eyes clearly trying to tell you something else.

“Yeah, of course,” you told her, forcing that strained smile back onto your face.

“Good, I got you tonight, alright?” she replied.

“Thank you,” you answered, your eyes also trying to tell her something else.

Forcing your feet to carry you forward, you nervously approached the two burly men who looked irritated and impatient. You tried to wipe your sweaty palms against your dress pants as you stopped in front of them, your heart still wildly thrumming in your chest. 

“Let’s go,” Scar Face grumbled, gesturing with his head down the hall towards the elevator.

You nodded stiffly, fighting to keep your eyes from dropping down to the outline of the gun in his suit coat. He turned and began walking and you followed on trembling legs, Not Scar Face stalking down the hall behind you. As Scar Face hit the elevator call button, you tried to fight down another wave of nervous nausea. You needed to keep your cool, you needed to play a part, and you needed to do it believably. Because it might be your only way out of this.

“So uh,” you began, clearing your throat and trying to fight the waver in your voice, “what exactly is Mr. Backman’s interest in this unexpected interview?”

Not Scar Face’s attention shifted towards you and you refrained from flinching under his stare, his cold eyes studying you. You tried to keep your breathing steady as you held his gaze, very much trying to look like a curious and naive journalist.

“You can ask him yourself soon enough,” Not Scar Face told you.

The elevator doors opened, revealing that familiar empty and small space that now seemed terrifying to you. Scar Face threw out a hand, holding the doors before he glanced back at you, raising his brows expectantly. Forcing that strained smile back onto your face, you stepped in and muttered a polite ‘thank you’ as you did. 

You were just a naive, stupid little journalist after all. Not a threat. 

Both large men stepped in after you, Scar Face pushing the button for the main floor. The doors soon closed, trapping you in the elevator with the pair of them standing directly in front of you. Blocking any chance of you just bolting out of the elevator when the doors opened. Anxiously, your eyes darted up above their heads, your focus on the numbers quickly descending to the first floor. 

A minute later the doors opened, both men stepping out before you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continued to silently follow behind Scar Face as he led you out of the main doors of the building. Your eyes instantly landed on the black SUV parked in front of the building, not even remotely surprised that was where Scar Face was leading you. 

He turned when he reached the back door of the SUV, his eyes falling on you. You stopped when you neared him, refraining from flinching when his hand began moving. He ended up outstretching his palm expectantly towards you, your eyes dropping down towards it.

“Mr. Backman is a very private person,” Scar Face told you. “Your phone, please.”

You almost wanted to laugh out loud; of course they were going to take your phone. It was like Kidnapper 101. You knew they were going to.

You made a show of reaching towards your pocket, wanting to be compliant, and then pretending to be shocked that you didn’t actually grab your phone. Your hands even patted both of your pockets a few times, brows furrowing as you glanced down. Behind you, you heard Not Scar Face sigh in annoyance.

“Shit,” you cursed, glancing up at Scar Face. “I think I left it back at the office.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at you for a moment. You continued to keep that puzzled expression on your face as his hand lowered.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if we just double check, will you?” Not Scar Face snapped from behind you.

Before you could respond, you felt a pair of hands patting you down. Fighting back the urge to grimace at his touch, especially as his hands grabbed you in places you knew weren’t necessary, you tried to focus on taking deep, calming breaths. Eventually his hands left you, probably making some gesture to Scar Face because he nodded in front of you before turning and opening the car door. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for you to get into the car. Heart sinking to your feet, you made your way forward and climbed in. Not Scar Face slammed your door shut, opening the passenger door in front of you, though he hesitated as he waited for Scar Face to get into the driver’s side. The moment he did, Not Scar Face hopped in and the doors locked, the sound causing you to flinch.

As the car pulled out onto the street, the hair on the back of your neck rose. You were locked in this car with these two men. You had no way out. You had no idea where you were going. You had no idea if and when Matt was going to get your message or if the police Katy was surely calling would even find you. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the car for either as they drove. Your eyes tried to memorize the route as you'd sat trapped. In the backseat, you had been nervously chewing your thumbnail and trying to come up with some plan of escape, but none were coming to you. And when the car pulled down a few side streets that looked disturbingly empty, you felt a sense of unease really settling over you. 

Eventually the car came to a stop in a vacant parking lot in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Scar Face cut the engine and a dreadful silence fell over the three of you. The doors unlocked a few seconds later, both men getting out of the car. Not Scar Face immediately opened up your door, stepping aside when Scar Face rounded the vehicle and pointed a gun at you. Your back went rigid in the seat instantly, your eyes dropping down to the barrel of it.

“Get out,” he ordered.

Hands fumbling nervously, you unbuckled your seatbelt and slid out of the back seat. The cold metal of the gun was instantly at the back of your head, sick churning in your stomach at the feel of it.

“Walk,” he ordered next.

You followed behind Not Scar Face as he headed into the abandoned warehouse. Two other armed men were inside already, greeting your two kidnappers with nods of their heads. Eyes shifting behind them, you noticed a metal table and two metal chairs set up. The barrel of the gun dug into the back of your head, urging you forward.

“Sit,” Scar Face demanded.

Nervously you headed towards one of the chairs, your legs feeling like they were about to give out. You slowly sunk into the metal chair, adrenaline and fear coursing through you. Scar Face lowered into the other chair, resting the gun on the table and training it right on your chest. You felt like you could barely breathe.

“Now,” Scar Face began, the three men standing behind him armed with guns and just as intimidating, “I want you to start talking. What do you know about Daredevil? Who is he?”

Your mouth immediately went dry. “What?” you asked, taken aback.

Scar Face leaned forward along the table, eyes narrowing. “Who is Daredevil? We know he protected you once before from Figureroa’s men. We know he has a soft spot for Bulletin journalists. You clearly know him.”

“I–I have no idea who he is,” you said earnestly. “He showed up out of nowhere that night he saved me. I’ve never seen him since, I swear!”

“I’m not buying that,” Scar Face told you. “Now I know you’ve been looking into Wayland. And I know he’s been causing us quite a bit of trouble lately. Clearly the two of you are working together. And Backman would love nothing more than if we brought him his head."

“No, we’re–we’re not working together!” you pushed, eyes wide. 

Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you thought it would give out. You weren't here for an interview with Backman you quickly realized–you were the bait for Matt. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” you urged, panic flooding you knowing Matt would walk in on a trap. "I'm just a journalist!"

“Ugh, come on!” one of the men ground out behind Scar Face. “Just shut her up. We can use her to try to lure that asshole for now. And if he doesn’t show, then we can start with the questions.”

Scar Face’s jaw tightened as he studied you closely. You couldn’t hide the way your body was shaking in the metal chair, especially at the mention of questions–you didn't think they would just be talking to you. Slowly, he lowered the gun to the table, turning and rising up to his feet as he ran his hands over his face. Your eyes immediately dropped down to the loaded gun sitting across the table from you, heart pounding so loud in your own ears you couldn’t hear anything else.

Would it be possible for you to take that gun and try to shoot your way out of here? Was that your way out of this?

________

“Oh man, I could totally use a drink at Josie’s after that,” Foggy complained beside Matt, running a hand over his face. “I mean that witness testimony took four hours!”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, nodding his head. “I’m pretty sure that fried my brain, too, Fog.”

Matt adjusted his briefcase over his shoulder with his free hand, the other holding Foggy’s arm as Foggy led him down the courthouse steps. 

“You want to call your future fiance and see if she wants to come out?” Foggy teased, nudging Matt’s shoulder with his own.

Matt grinned in response, laughing lightly. “I can see if she’s available tonight, yeah,” he agreed.

"Ahh!" Foggy exclaimed loudly, pointing an accusatory finger at Matt. "So you don't deny she may be the future Mrs. Murdock!"

Still laughing lightly and shaking his head, Matt slipped his phone out of his dress pant’s pocket with his free hand. For a moment his finger felt around the edge of the phone before holding down the button to turn it back on. Seconds later he heard the buzz of the device as it kicked back to life.

"Your silence is really saying a lot, man," Foggy pointed out, leading Matt down the sidewalk and back towards the office. 

"Is it?" Matt shot back, shooting Foggy a playful grin.

The vibration and beep of Matt's phone drew his attention back to the device. That notification meant he had a new, unheard voicemail. Brows furrowing, he navigated his phone, pushing the button to bring up his voicemail. He held the phone to his ear as Foggy shot him a curious glance. 

"What's up?" he asked Matt. "You look confused."

"She sent me a voicemail," Matt told him, speaking over the automated voice that was reading off the name that had called and the time the message had been left. "But she knew we had court. She never calls and leaves messages when we do."

"Maybe it was important?" Foggy suggested.

A frown drew across Matt’s mouth the moment the message began to play. There was a nervous breath and a long pause, something you never did when you left messages. You normally began them with your cheerful or hurried tone. Something wasn't right. And his fear was confirmed the moment he heard your scared voice speaking into his ear.

“Matt, uh, I have a very big problem. There’s two men who just showed up at my office. They’re saying Backman sent a car for me for an interview.” 

There was a pause after your words, Matt instantly stopping on the sidewalk at the mention of Backman’s name. Foggy came to a stop, too, shooting Matt a confused look.

"What?" he asked.

But Matt didn't respond, too focused on the sound of your terrified voice.

“I–I don’t think they’re your usual chauffeurs, though. I’m pretty sure one of them has a gun in their suit coat. And I have no idea where they’re going to take me.” 

At the mention of a gun, Matt's hand gripped his phone tighter, his entire body tensing. You were in danger and you'd called for help. You'd called for help two hours ago. And he'd been stuck in court while men with guns had taken you. Anger burned in Matt–a burning white hot rage that was sure to quickly consume him.

“It’s only Katy and I at the office. She’s calling the cops when I’m gone. I–I don’t see any other options here, Matt. I have to go with them.” 

Matt's heart ached at the shaky exhale he heard you make over the message, his jaw tightening. You were terrified and you needed him and he hadn't been there for you. 

“You were right. When guys with guns come after me, I’m not the one who knows how to fight back. You are.”

His heart was thundering in his own ears, almost pounding louder than the sound of your nervous whisper in his ear. 

"I–I have to go before they realize what I’m doing.” There was a brief pause before he heard your voice so quiet one last time. “I love you, Matt.”

Tearing the phone from his ear, he slammed his finger on the button to end the message. Matt ripped his hand from Foggy's arm immediately.

"They took her," Matt snarled, enraged.

"What?" Foggy asked, panic flooding his voice. "Who?"

Matt said your name, his voice breaking on it. "Backman took her."

With a growl Matt tore his briefcase strap from over his head, tossing it roughly at Foggy. He fumbled but managed to catch it.

"Matt, what're you doing?" he asked nervously.

"I'm going to find her," he answered, his tone already darkened by the Devil when he spoke. "And so help me if they hurt her I will tear them apart ."

Spinning on his heel, ignoring Foggy's panicked voice calling after him, Matt darted down an alley. Once out of sight, he clambered up a fire escape towards the roof, racing across Hell's Kitchen towards his apartment for his suit. Spurred on by adrenaline and fear, he leapt from roof to roof without a care for himself, only one thing on his mind–he needed to find you.

[ordin-arily]

I have read all your rottmnt works bc I recently (finally!) got into this amazing show. I love your work!!

If you ever have the time, I'd love to see a Donnie-fic where maybe he gets jealous when his crush wears his brother's colours, and either tries to "sneakily" (clearly not subtle) put them in purple/his clothes/brand, or (if you have enough inspiration to continue the 'mating season' idea) claim them some other way? *wink*

I always hear about possessive turtles (esp from Donnie) but I don't see much of it (esp from Donnie). We like to see some spicy turtles lol

thank you!! i couldn't squeeze anything spicy in this time but i think i managed to get a little bit of that possessive behaviour! :)

Notes: 2nd POV & fem reader for this one

Okay here's your fic! :D

When you walk into the lair wearing red, Donnie’s fists come down against a table. 

You flinch at the sound and turn away from your conversation with Raph to peer at him expectantly. Under your observation, Donnie swipes his hand over the area he’s just hit, pretending to dust something off.

"There was a bug.”

You nod sort of distractedly and return your attention to his brother, who’s continued his dialogue, never one to be particularly bothered by interruptions.

If this were any other day, Donnie might have mulled over whether or not you actually bought his lame attempt at a cover-up. Today, though, he keeps his focus trained on you, straining to hear what you’re saying as he tinkers mindlessly somewhere in the background. 

You.

You... in that little scarlet tank top. 

You, making him chew through several different writing utensils.

He hadn't thought much of it when you showed up wearing the most adorable orange crew neck the other day. He’d barely registered the colour at all. Why study your clothing when you were there, scribbling away in your notebook, the cutest crease between your brows as you paused every so often to punch in something on your calculator... 

It was only when Mikey passed by and playfully bumped you on the side, buoyantly exclaiming something like “hey Y/N, we’re matching!” that Donnie had picked up on it. 

With your head still in math problems, it’d taken you half a second longer to process what his younger brother was saying, but when you did, you broke out in the most award-winning grin. “Oh! Hey, yeah!” 

And then you’d fully stood up to compare hues and textiles, chatting up a storm of delight. 

It was sweet—endearing, even.

But then it happened again...

The next time he saw you, you were in a brilliant cobalt long-sleeve cropped tee. It hugged you in all the right places and brought out your features stunningly.

Donnie would’ve been a fool not to notice, which is probably exactly why Leo did. 

“Ho-ho-ho! Repping me today, Y/N?”

You’d laughed, looking down at yourself like you just now remembered you were wearing his colour, and pointed at him enthusiastically. “Hey! Yeah, I guess I am!”

“I always knew you were a fan,” he’d grinned, throwing his arm around you easily.

You made a show of rolling your eyes and shoved him away jovially. “Keep pushing, Nardo. See where it gets you."

Donnie likes your personality, he does. He likes that you’re charming and witty and that you can keep up with all of them.  

So, why then, had he snapped his pencil in half the moment Leo got close to you and tauntingly asked, “Is that an invitation, Y/L/N?"

He’d wanted to step right between the two of you and spread his arms as far as they would go—pummel his twin into oblivion if the right situation presented itself.

He’d just reached for another pencil instead.

Donnie almost forgot about those events. Whatever you’d worn between then and now must’ve not struck him as anything spectacularly out of the ordinary—maybe you’d worn black or grey or green. He wasn’t sure. But now…

But now.

The red. 

God, it’s like you’re doing it on purpose.

He knows it’s silly to get worked up over something this trivial, but he can’t help it. And when Raph inevitably calls attention to such a discovery? Forget it.

“Hey! Did you wear red for me?” He sounds so excited. Pathetic, Donnie thinks scornfully.

You look down at yourself. “Oh! Y’know, I’d love to say that I did, but just a happy accident I guess.”

In the distance, Donnie narrows his eyes, unconvinced that you’re not doing this just to torture him. He repeats the last part of your sentence under his breath, mocking your voice in an entirely unintelligible grumble.

“What was that, D?” Raph asks genuinely, craning his neck around you to address the boy with steam wafting up off of him.

“Hm? Nothing, just that pesky bug.” He laughs too loudly and hits the table again. “Got it!”

The both of you blink at him and he can nearly feel his cheeks turn the colour of your shirt if they could turn such a colour.

Well, this is certainly a blow to his pride. 

“I shall fetch a tissue!” he announces overzealously, and books it out of the room at lightning speed, taking a sharp turn in the direction of the thermostat. He peeks over his shoulder before cranking it way down. 

If he needs to turn his brothers into turtsicles, so be it. You’ll be asking for a sweater any minute now.

Any… minute…

Yep, that’s what he told himself forty-five minutes ago, just as you settled into his lab, sitting across from him at his high table. 

He glances over every few seconds now, anticipating, and doing his best to suppress some pretty gnarly teeth-chattering.

“Hey, uh, aren’t you a little cold, Y/N? Do you, um, do you want a jacket—I can get you a jacket,” he tells you, breath coming out in a cloud. 

You’re engrossed in yet more school work—this time, a history textbook. “Mm, n-no, thank you,” you respond almost unconsciously, not tearing your eyes away from the open page.

“Oh, okay,” Donnie says and pulls his purple Dragons club jacket out from behind him.

He leaves it on the table between the two of you for a few minutes, pretending to busy himself with a screwdriver and a circuit board... until he can’t take it anymore. You still haven’t looked up from your reading and it’s driving him nuts. 

It’s only once you feel something touch your shoulders that your concentration is sliced clean through. You sit up poker-straight, jolting at the feel of soft fabric being draped over your form. Behind you is a very sheepish-looking Donatello, snaking, slinking, and all but slithering about. 

You put down your pencil. “Okay, I give. What’s going on with you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Those odd little inflections he does have become so normalized to you that the comical stiffness with which he says this doesn’t derail your resolve in the slightest. Shucks.

“You’ve been acting weird all afternoon. Is it my tank top? Does it bother you that much?”

“No!” he rushes out. “I mean, yes, but not for the reason you think!”

It’s difficult not to feel self-conscious with that kind of response, and you pull his jacket on properly, hoping to hide your front a little more if that’s what’s making him so uncomfortable.

The second it’s on though; the second you’re wearing his colour, his attire, his… He completely short-circuits. (Is this what it’s like to be Mikey?) 

You’re looking at him funny and calling his name, but his basic motor functions are as good as gone. (Is he having a stroke right now?

He knew you’d look in purple but… god damn.) 

He’s just regaining his ability to think—forget speak—when his door flies open with a gruff “DONNIE!” 

The dancing sparkles and rose-coloured orbs poof from his vision with a disembodied pop!

“WHY’S it so cold in here?” Raph berates. "We’re all freezing! What’d you do now?!”

“Um,” Donnie punctuates too defensively for the bearings of a guilty man. “First of all, I am deeply wounded by your preposterous implication that I had anything to do with this. And, second of all…” His head falls and his voice gets quiet. “Check the thermostat...”

Raph squints, suspicious and testy, before backing out of the room, mumbling something about the gifted child under his breath. 

Meanwhile, puzzle pieces are starting to fit together in your mind. 

Part of you wants to tease him. You could take off his jacket—claim it’s actually hot in here. You could tell him you’re not really that big a fan of the colour or that the garment is a little scratchy.

The better part of you, however, surmises that, if your friend has gone to such great lengths to see this through, it might be better to attend to this one delicately. 

You double-check to make sure that his brother is indeed no longer in the room before folding your arms and confronting a shamefaced Donatello. 

“You were going to be next, you know?”

His eyes shift from side to side nervously and he feigns ignorance. “W-what are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I didn’t plan it initially, but I thought it might be fun to keep going. Saved the best for last and everything.”

He perks up at that last part, lifting his head to look at you. “You... Really?”

You nod. “Had the cutest little babydoll all ready to go. But… I guess the jacket works too.”

His posture wilts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think jealousy was in my roster of attributes, but here we are.”

“It’s not an attribute,” you insist. “It’s a feeling. You know what those are right?"

He bites back a smile and shakes his head. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be the smartest on the team, you’ve now said that twice in the last minute.”

This time he does smile, but you can tell it’s without his consent. “Gah—fine!” he relents. “I’ve been had! Just put me out of my misery already.”

You let out a hearty chortle at this and figure he’s paid enough. Still, this doesn’t stop you from asking: “So… how do I look?”

He averts his gaze anxiously, eyes flitting back to you erratically like he can’t quite help himself, then clears his throat. “Uh, goo—yeah, um good. You look good.”

“My god, that was painful.” You start to slip the windbreaker off when he stops you.

“N-no. Seriously, um—“ He holds a hand out and swallows harshly. “Keep it on. If-if you want. It looks good on you.”

And now it’s your turn to blush. You wish desperately in these moments that you had some kind of control over it; it’s all fun and games when you’re not the one who’s flustered. 

There’s some kind of shift in his demeanour at your reaction, though—his confidence apparently skyrocketing exponentially because the next words out of his mouth are: “And not just because it’s purple.”

“Oh?”

“It’s also… mine."

(Gone are the nervous gulps and fumbling hands, apparently.)

There are insinuations behind those words too—the kind that make your heart pick up speed in your chest—and you scramble for a witty retort. 

“I’ll have to steal your hoodie next time then.”

(...Mediocre but it’ll have to do.)

Donnie goes stock-still at this response, like he’s conjuring up the mental image. And then he smirks. Like, a full-on, self-satisfied, impish smirk. Jesus.

“Good idea."

Alright—where the hell is this coming from?

Despite your discomfiture, you have to admit the thought of wearing his clothes is unexpectedly... comfortable—about as comfortable as the real deal. You toy with the fabric of the sleeve reflexively, lost to your ruminating.

If you go home that night, accidentally taking his jacket with you and finding, as you finish up your history reading, that it still smells like him… you figure none will be the wiser.

If you rummage around in your closet a little later in the evening, looking for all things violet, amethyst, plum, and lavender... Well, so what?

And if you show up to the next beach day clad in a bright purple two-piece...

Maybe you’re looking forward to the kind of results it might yield.

[magicluckystars]

A not-so-perfect first halloween

Halloween collab with @jade-s-nymph !!

TW: fluff, reader can be Yuu or not, they/them pronouns used, Cater is wearing a skull hairpin, post book 1, reader is mentioned to have hair and a costume, (name) used to mention reader, a lil bit of crack, not edited, (name) has like one line, second person POV, switches between (name) and Riddle randomly

characters: Riddle x reader, honourable mention to Cater, Vil, Jade I added Jade just for you @jade-s-nymph be grateful and Floyd (not shipped)

Not accurate to the Halloween event in-game! This is an au where NRC students set up stalls with challenges and if you win the challenge, you get candy which you can eat or trade in for prizes

I am still an amateur writer so writing may be cringe/out of character! Constructive feedback would be much appreciated!

🌹🌹🌹 Riddle was…Nervous, to say the least. He had experienced Halloween at NRC before, and he’d like to say he enjoyed it. However, this was his first Halloween with someone other than his dorm mates or friends: you. What was your favourite activity on Halloween? Did you like candy? Had you gone trick-or-treating before? Riddle had asked you these questions and more in advance to make sure both of you enjoyed yourselves. He smoothed out his costume—a skeleton with heart embroidery—and straightened his back. I’m going to make sure this is the best first Halloween with them, Riddle told himself. One of the benefits of wearing heels was seeing Heartslabyul students straighten up immediately after hearing the click-clack of Riddle’s heels as he stepped into the dorm lounge. Usually, Riddle would’ve greeted them and even brought up some small talk if he was in a good mood, but it was almost 6:00 in the evening, about time for Riddle to set out to meet you. “Looking good, Housewarden! How about a selfie for Magicam?” Cater winked, taking out his phone. He was wearing a similar outfit to Riddle, only difference being the size and the fact that he had a skull hairpin in his long, ginger hair. Riddle sighed at the tall student in front of him. “Make it quick,” He said, “I am sure you are aware that I am going to meet (name), and it is against the rules to be late.” After snapping a photo with Cater, Riddle set out. You both were to meet in front of the school, on Main Street, and then explore the festival together. It was 6:00 exactly when Riddle arrived at your meeting place. As he waited for you, Riddle couldn’t help but admire the decorations. After all, NRC students always went the full nine yards for Halloween. Candles littered Main Street, all set aglow by Headmage Crowley himself. Pumpkins which had different faces on them—Riddle thought he saw one that looked like him—some in the sky, some on the apple tree branches, candles inside them flickering bright. Small lanterns hung from the now-bare branches of NRC’s historic apple trees, adding a subtle but noticeable glow to the dark brown branches that hung over the statues of the Great Seven. The sky was a cloudy sunset, with gaps in the clouds where remnants of the sunny October day before peeked out for one last chance to glow before the moon came up and night arrived. As the sun set and the moon rose, more and more people started to arrive to participate in the festivities, and soon Riddle found himself smushed between a little girl and who Riddle thought to be her big brother. Great. With this much rush, I doubt I’ll be able to find them. Riddle mentally sighed, and started to search for you among the crowd. Meanwhile, you came running to the decided meeting place and were about to apologize for being late, but as soon as you opened your mouth, you realized you couldn’t see Riddle in the crowd. You guess at some point Vil showed up in his Halloween costume, because people started running and pushing forward, taking their phones out and screaming. Just as you told a guy to watch it and another woman and a few teenagers to please stop pushing, you finally fell to the ground because of the stampede. It left your hair a mess, and your Halloween costume soiled slightly. As the stampede thinned a little bit, you saw a familiar pair of skeleton heels and rose-red hair.

Riddle searched for your face when the crowd thinned. His mind went all sorts of places. What if they didn’t want to come and just forgot to tell me? What if they’re in trouble? I should probably call them… The last place Riddle expected you to be was on the ground.

“(name)..? Is that you? Are you alright?” He questioned, surprised. As you raised your hand in greeting and weakly made a thumbs up, Riddle bent down to offer you a hand, which you gladly accepted.

“Great seven…You can’t go a day without causing trouble for me, can you?” Riddle said as he pulled you to your feet and fixed your clothes and hair. As you opened your mouth to apologize, he stopped you. “…Well, it’s not like I mind.” He mumbled, looking satisfied with his work and nodding. You two walked through the mini-fair, making idle talk about recent events and often stopping to make comments like this booth is decorated beautifully, and oh, let's try this game! Riddle kept a close watch on you. There might be more rush and another stampede, and he didn't want you to get hurt.

Eventually, you came across a stall run by some Octavinelle students, where you had to throw a ball and break glass to win candy. Riddle turned to you. “Do you want to give it a go? I will be here.” As you nodded, Riddle stepped back so the ball wouldn’t accidentally hit him. You threw the ball with all your might, but none of your balls hit. The Octavinelle student at the stand sniggered.

“Sorry, better luck next time, I guess.” The student sneered. (Was it rigged? Were your throws actually horrible? You never know…)

You and Riddle both tried a bunch of games, winning some and losing some. Eventually, your bags were reasonably full with candy, and the night was coming to an end. Guests were starting to leave, but in the darkness the decorations around the school shone yet brighter. Riddle checked his watch. It read 10:34 PM. He looked at you. “We should probably get going. We do have school tomorrow, and if we sleep late we will wake up late for school tomorrow. Let’s go exchange our candy and head back.”

As you two walked to the exchange stall, a familiar—yet unnerving—voice spoke. “Well, look what we have here. Why, it’s the Housewarden of Heartslabyul and his paramour. How are you on this fine night?” Jade Leech peered down to make eye contact with you and Riddle. Behind him was Floyd, energetically giving out and restocking prizes, and the prize wall. The bigger plushies were hung higher on the wall, and the smaller fidgets hung lower, both in price and on the wall. You looked at Riddle, who was conversing with Jade about the candy, and you looked at a hedgehog plushie with a Halloween mask on that you had just enough candy for. It wasn’t too big, but it was freakishly adorable. You interrupted Jade mid-speech to point at the hedgehog you wanted. He looked a bit irritated, but quickly changed to his normal expression. “Ah, that one. I’m assuming you have the candy to pay for it, yes?” He smiled politely, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You nodded as you dumped out your entire sack of candy. Jade reached for the hedgehog hanging mid wall—you couldn’t help but think Riddle would’ve struggled to get that if it were him—and handed it to you. As you and Riddle left, you couldn’t help but notice Floyd suddenly stop his work and going to annoy Jade. In the background, you could hear Jade saying “Now, Floyd. I don’t think Azul will be happy if you leave those customers hanging.” It was almost 11:00 now. The mini-fair closed, only reopening next year. You and Riddle walked in comfortable silence. The fall breeze was crisp but chilly. A lingering scent from the apple pie stall remained, and you could hear the crunches of the leaves beneath your feet as you walked toward the Hall of Mirrors. It really seemed like Halloween was over now, and so was your first date with Riddle.

“…I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” Riddle said, breaking the silence. You nodded and walked in the direction of your dorm. When you finally arrived at the Hall of Mirrors, you smiled and waved goodbye to Riddle, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before you left for your dorm. Riddle’s face turned red like a tomato, but he couldn’t stop thinking about that peck on the cheek. It was a simple but romantic gesture. As he went through the Heartslabyul mirror, Riddle noticed you had forgotten the hedgehog plushie you got at the exchange stall. Riddle pulled out his phone to let you know that you had forgotten it and he would give it to you tomorrow, but he was met with a text from you that read:

(name): dw about the plushie. I know you like hedgehogs so I decided to give it to you. I’ve seen your room. it’s neat, sure, but it’s lacking that personal factor. Keep the hedgehog, take good care of him for me ;)

Riddle sighed and shook his head. This definitely sounded like something you would do. The click-clack of Riddle’s heels could be heard as he stepped into the Heartslabyul lounge. Students still in the lounge didn’t say anything, but they stared at the plushie in their Housewarden’s arms. As Riddle gave them a dirty look and they straightened up and pretended to do something else, he walked up the stairs, replaying the night and its ending in his head over and over. Riddle slept peacefully that night with the plushie in his arms.

fin.

🌹🌹🌹