#and I got chastised for saying i want to buy a new fridge because i hate the one i have. i need to says my dad

[lavender---sunshine]

💖 Had my first car cry today besties 💖

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

❥ Bakugou / Fem Reader / Todoroki

❥ Everyone involved in this is 18+/aged up.

Warnings; angst/comfort, cursing, vaginal sex, anal sex (double penetration), pussy eating, blow jobs, squirting

Note; This is my first time writing for this pairing and I’ve wanted to for so long.

It’s normal when you and Katsuki argue. It’s normal when Shouto and Katsuki argue. What isn’t normal, are the fights you and Shouto get into.

It only occurs once in a while, but when it does — you end the night miserably with a lump in your throat and an icy chill that shreds and rearranges your stomach.

Unfortunately, despite doing your damndest to avoid arguing with Shouto, this past week has had you itching to chew him out.

Shouto’s assured you and Katsuki at least three times this week that he was going to be home from work to eat dinner with you. Yet each time he’s shown up so late that Katsuki has put the leftovers in the fridge and you two went to sleep.

And this is not even remotely the first time you’ve dealt with this.

It’s not as if you don’t all understand that being a hero will never be a job where you have the privilege of scheduled hours. Shit happens, and it happens often. And Shouto’s not the only one who gets the short end of the stick.

This wouldn’t even get under your skin so badly if he at least could’ve let either of you know he wasn’t going to make it. He hasn’t even done that. He’s been letting his phone die and not bothering to charge it.

“Pick up the fucking phone, Shouto.” You know you have a bitchy attitude, but you’re speaking to his voicemail again.

You exhale a drawn out sigh through your nose and shift in place to unstick your thighs from the leather material of the bar stool you’re currently occupying.

Your kitchen smells amazing because of Katsuki’s cooking and you get even more pissed about all the effort the blonde is putting into this just for Shouto to disregard it.

You set your phone down too harshly, not realizing until you hear an ominous crack of glass that makes you wince. Gingerly you pick it back up and only notice a few hairline cracks, thank god.

“I’m not buying you another new fucking phone,” Katsuki pipes up, sounding much too amused from where he’s stirring something at the stove.

You glare at his back, scoffing in response.

“Well if a certain someone would answer their damn phone I wouldn’t be breaking this one!”

Katsuki is aware of how upset this situation has been making you. He’s been encouraging you not to worry about it because “Shouto has always been an air-headed idiot.” You chastise the blonde when he makes those remarks but you somewhat agree.

He’s so intelligent when it comes to hero work, but relationships have always been….. alien to him.

“So strawberry shortcake’s blowing us off again?” Katsuki asks with no small amount of annoyance.

Your gaze flickers to the blonde’s broad back, studying the way his muscles roll and flex along the edges of his black tank top as he stirs fried rice.

Your brows pull together, scowling as you drum your fingers on the counter top.

“I guess so,” you murmur, sounding and feeling defeated. The sting in your eyes that signals oncoming tears is no surprise. Shouto’s recent behavior has been weighing heavily on your heart. You sniffle as quietly as you can.

Does he even want to be with us anymore?? Does he love me?

You realize you may be overreacting but you can’t help it.

Katsuki has got to be a mind reader — or he most likely heard you sniffling. His palms start crackling as he notices you’re about to cry. He pauses, turning the stove off just to be cautious, and wipes the sweat from his hands on his sweatpants.

He pivots in place and strides over to you with a scowl on his face, taking in the steady stream of tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.

“Look at me, idiot,” he says affectionately, crossing his arms over his chest as he comes to a stop. You stubbornly refuse to turn your chair his direction.

He makes a frustrated noise and grips the back of your chair, physically swiveling you to face him. He steps in between your thighs and you tilt your head downwards, still refusing to meet his gaze. You obnoxiously sniffle. Katsuki scoffs, reaching a hand out to grip your chin.

His thumb and pointer fingers cradle your chin, gently guiding your head up. His sharp expression softens as scarlet eyes flit across your face, taking in how heartbroken you truly look.

A new wave of tears track down your cheeks, a small sob escaping and shaking your shoulders.

“I — I just don’t understand Kat. Why doesn’t Shouto want to come home?” You cry, voice cracking pitifully. You use the backs of his hands to wipe away the never ending tears.

Katsuki can’t stand seeing you this way. He wraps his arms around your head and shoves your face into his chest, smoothing a hand over your upper back in hopes of providing some sort of comfort.

Eagerly, you return his embrace. The warmth of his skin bleeding through the material of his tank top as it catches your sorrow.

“Baby,” he whispers lowly, soothingly. “Shouto‘s not doing this on purpose. I know you know that. His cocksucker of a father is working him to the bone.”

It does little to quell the ache in your chest even if he’s right.

You don’t respond, the build up of frustration and grief from the past couple weeks spilling out of you and onto Katsuki. He kisses the top of your head, resting his cheek there and allowing you to cry until you start to get lightheaded and empty.

Eventually your sobbing subsides and you release the death grip you had on your boyfriend’s shirt. He frees you as you lean backwards slightly, staring up at him with a pout. Your eyes are swollen and heavy, but you feel lighter.

Katsuki gives you a half smile, using his thumbs to tenderly wipe away the excess tears under your eyes.

“I’ll still kick his ass if you want,” Katsuki jokes halfheartedly. You laugh softly, the corners of your mouth tilting upwards involuntarily.

He grins fully at you, bending down to press your foreheads together. He places his big hands on your thighs and plants a chaste kiss on your lips.

You respond enthusiastically, sliding your hands up his chest and slipping them around his neck as your lips connect over and over.

He smiles into the kiss and tilts his head minutely, biting playfully on your bottom lip until you open up for him. The glide of his tongue against yours has arousal burning desperately in your lower belly.

You let out a breathy moan and Katsuki’s fingers tighten on your legs before he breaks the rapidly blazing kiss.

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, catching a whiff of fried rice that reminds you Katsuki had been cooking. The blonde retreats to his full height.

“Kat,” you say reluctantly, grabbing his attention. “I’m not sure I can eat anything right now. I just want to go to bed.” You chew on your bottom lip, fiddling with your thumbs.

He frames your face with his hands, a smirk worming its way onto his mouth.

“Then let me take your ass to bed so you can be my pillow princess for the night,” he says confidently, winking when your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

A pleasant flush travels through your entire body, cheeks feverish as you let out a startled laugh.

Once you nod in agreement Katsuki slips his hands under your thighs and hefts you up out of your seat. You laugh brightly, embracing his waist with your legs and holding onto his neck.

Within a few moments Katsuki’s got you both naked and he’s slipping under the sheets of your bed. Your legs part for him easily, tugging him up and over you until he fits like a puzzle.

When his cock pushes inside of you it’s everything you weren’t aware you needed that night. He rolls his hips sweet and slow until your spine’s bowing off the mattress and you’re crying out his name, being sure to leave scratches on his back.

Later on Katsuki ventures back to the kitchen to put away the food from earlier. He decides he’s going to wait for the dumbass and give him a piece of his mind when he returns home.

Katsuki waits…and waits until he’s sitting up straight and nodding off on the couch.

He uses his fists to rub his eyes and checks the time on his phone only to see that it’s past midnight. Katsuki’s temper flares and he swiftly has to remove his hands from the couch cushions for fear of blasting it to smithereens.

He leaves Shouto a colorful message on a sticky note and promptly goes back to the warmth of the bed and snuggles into your chest until he passes out.

It’s after 1:00 am when a chilly arm circles your waist and tugs you back into a toned chest. Your brain is sluggish in your barely there consciousness but you’re able to recognize that it’s Shouto’s presence behind you. Katsuki’s on your other side, leaving you in the middle.

It’s become somewhat of a habit between the three of you to welcome each other with a few kisses when someone arrives home late. So when you don’t flip over you’re sure Shouto’s confused.

Your chest hurts when you think about facing your boyfriend. Ignoring him is probably hurting him, yet you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

When it’s clear that you won’t be speaking to him as you pull the blanket up over your shoulder, Shouto tightens his arm and tickles the nape of your neck with a soft exhale.

You don’t speak to Shouto for about two days. The man tries to talk to you, truly he does, but you keep him at arms length.

The first night you return home from patrol, battered and bruised with a headache from hell as you stumble in the front door.

You’d been messaging Katsuki throughout the day, the blonde hero keeping you up to date on Shouto.

He did fail to mention they must’ve had their own argument about the situation, if the recently acquired burn marks on the wall have anything to say about it.

When you make it to your bedroom, it seems they must’ve made up. They’re entangled and naked in the sheets so that solves that mystery. The soft light from the bathroom night illuminates them enough that you can see Shouto’s head pillowed on his chest.

Your stomach drops at the sight, the dull ache of betrayal surprising you as it tries to carve a hole in your chest.

At any other time, you’d love seeing them together. However you and Shouto are still caught up in this ridiculous fight that seems to be more one sided than anything.

With a quiet groan you move into the bathroom, stripping off your filthy clothing and stepping into the shower.

You stand under the scalding water and scrub off the layer of grime you picked up during your shift. As you run the wash cloth over your skin you imagine you’re chipping at the depressing emotions you’re riddled with as well, willing them to go down the drain.

Once you’ve managed to get clean and dressed in one of Katsuki’s oversized T-shirt’s, you find yourself standing unsettled at the edge of your bed. Staring as you contemplate what to do.

An uneasy sensation worms under your skin, lurking as you weigh the options of staying or not. Ultimately you decide to go sleep on the couch.

You make haste with quiet footsteps until Shouto murmurs something unintelligible in his sleep. Your pulse stutters as you still, waiting to see what he does.

He says nothing more and you release the breath you weren’t aware you were holding, sneaking out to the living room.

You settle in on the couch, curling up in a ball underneath multiple throw blankets. Your chest squeezes while you wrestle with your mind until you convince yourself you have to reconcile with Shouto tomorrow.

Shouto wakes the next morning sporting a gray cloud overhead when his alarm goes off. He’s staring intensely at Katsuki’s side profile, admiring how handsome he is. The breeze from the fan brushes over his back and his brows scrunch together in confusion at the absence of your body heat.

He rolls over, eyes widening as he begins to panic when he doesn’t see you there.

Shouto’s heart jumps to his throat as he tumbles out of bed, snagging the blanket around his ankle and jostling Katsuki awake as he goes.

“Oi, idiot! What the fuck are you doing?” Katsuki rasps at an ear splitting volume. He sits up ramrod straight and wears a furious scowl. His gaze narrows as it lands on Shouto who freezes under the heavy glare.

Shouto says your name, glancing at the door as he fidgets in place.

“Where is she? Why isn’t she in bed?” Shouto’s low voice asks, an anxious edge marring it.

Katsuki’s lip curls and his cheeks flush a rosy pink as he rises from the bed. It forces Shouto to take a step back in bewilderment as he’s met with the blonde’s rage.

“You idiot,” Katsuki snarls venomously, shoving a finger into his boyfriend’s chest. “She is here, but she’s sleeping on the couch. You’ve been fucking us off as if we mean nothing to you for the past two weeks and you wonder why she doesn’t want to be in the same bed as you?” Katsuki laughs meanly, pushing Shouto out of his pathway with a lone finger before moving to his dresser. “I thought you were smarter than that,” he sneers, chin raising defiantly.

“I didn’t —,”

Katsuki cuts Shouto off, the muscle in his jaw twitching as his fists curl.

“Don’t you even fucking dare say you didn’t mean to. I don’t give a shit. Fix it Shouto, or I’ll take you on in a fight you won’t win.”

He slams the door to their bathroom shut so hard the frame rattles.

Shouto sinks down onto the edge of the mattress as if Katsuki knocked his knees out from under him. He was too stunned to even get a word in edgewise.

Shouto… knew you were upset, but he wasn’t aware it was this bad.

He stands on wobbly legs, stomach rolling painfully as he robotically gets ready for his shift. He can’t recall the last time he felt so numb.

The second you hear Shouto leave is when you finally open your eyes. You had heard the pair fighting and pretended to be asleep, not wanting a blow out fight to erupt between the three of you.

You feel so guilty, hoping and praying Shouto doesn’t get distracted by this entire ordeal while he’s out on patrol.

This fight isn’t worth risking his life over.

You have to make up with him tonight, it’s gone on far too long.

Shouto’s one of your soulmates, and you’ve loved every second you’ve had the privilege of being a part of his life.

Your footsteps are quiet as you shuffle to your now deserted bed, flopping down and crawling under the covers to wait for Katsuki’s return.

It’s not too late into the evening when the front door finally opens. You’d been mentally preparing yourself for the conversation the three of you would be having tonight.

You’d been nervously biting your nails and lounging on the couch with your feet tucked under you while Katsuki was, to nobody’s surprise, cooking something once again.

You spring out of your seat as Shouto locks the front door, striding to stand a few feet in front of him with a sheepish smile.

His expressions brightens like the sun when he sees you and you don’t even try to stop the grin that tugs at your lips.

In the next moment he’s hugging you, burying his face into your neck as he lifts you off the floor by your waist. Relief unfurls warmly behind your rib cage as you return the affectionate embrace, securing your legs around his waist.

He smells clean as he always does, something similar to a note of cinnamon tickling your nose in the addictive cologne that he wears.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto whispers tenderly, shifting so his forehead rests against your temple when he speaks. He noses at your cheek when you nod, repeating the same phrase so he knows you are too.

“You fuckers just gonna stand here all night?” Katsuki complains with no real heat behind it. You didn’t even hear him approach. You laugh, unwinding yourself from Shouto as he places you back on your feet.

Katsuki’s standing with his hands on his hips, wearing a soft smile that makes him look five years younger.

You tease him and Shouto joins in until the blonde is blushing and cursing you both to hell.

After what feels like the longest conversation of your life, you find yourself on your knees and elbows between Katsuki’s spread thighs. Your ass is high in the air for Shouto who’s settled behind you.

Katsuki’s rock hard, propped up by a couple pillows. He strokes his cock leisurely, biting the tip of his tongue as he leers down at you. You wink up at him and he grins coyly.

Shouto grips your ass and spreads you open. The cool air on your pussy makes your breath hitch.

You moan lowly, nails sinking into Katsuki’s thighs and forehead coming to rest on the blonde’s belly when Shouto’s tongue flicks at your clit. Dragging it up through your lips and swirling it over your rim.

You push yourself up, bracing a hand on either side of Katsuki’s hips as Shouto teases your rim with a slick finger. The blonde smirks when your jaw drops.

“Look at you baby girl, all fucked out and Sho’s barely touched your pussy,” he coos meanly, fisting his cock a little faster.

You attempt to respond but Shouto’s a shit who chooses that exact moment to slide a finger in your ass all the way to his knuckle.

“Shouto,” you choke out. “Keep going, give me another finger,” you plead, rocking back towards him. Shouto obeys, pushing in a second finger with ease and you whine. Your head drops between your shoulders and it gives you the view of Katsuki’s cock twitching in his grip when you let out more noises.

Katsuki notices your stare.

“Yeah? Wanna suck on my cock baby?” Katsuki asks with a lilt to his voice as though he’s offering someone an irresistible treat, cradling your cheek with his free hand and rubbing under your eye with his thumb.

“I do,” you confirm with an eager nod. You bend down to do just that but Katsuki’s shakes his head with a tsk and halts you with a hand around your throat. You glance up at him confused. He ignores you and levels Shouto with a look.

“Whatcha think, Shouto? Should I let the princess suck me off till you stretch her out?”

Shouto keeps thrusting his fingers, scissoring them a bit as he hums in agreement.

“I think so, yes,” Shouto affirms, something playful in his tone.

Katsuki grins wolfishly at you, placing a hand on the back of your head and pushing until you open your mouth and swallow half the cock pointed up at you in one go. You moan at the feel of his thick shaft on your tongue, bobbing your head slowly and chasing Katsuki when his hips jerk upwards.

“Jesus Christ baby, you have a velvet mouth,” Katsuki praises, husky moans filling the air.

You let Katsuki distract you as Shouto slips a third finger inside your ass, placing his thumb on your clit and rubbing tight circles to balance out the pain and pleasure.

Only a couple minutes later and Katsuki is starting to fidget in place.

“Think you can deep throat me?” Katsuki pants, eyelids fluttering as he waits for your answer. You hum which is the best you can do to say yes, even if your jaw is aching.

The pressure on the back of your skull increases and you relax your throat as his tip pushes past the muscle. You panic only briefly when your airway is cutoff, but hearing the way Katsuki cries out with a high pitched moan as he fills out your throat is worth it. You squeeze your eyes shut as tears gather at your lash line.

“You’re so goddamn hot. Look at those pretty lips stretched so filthy around me. You love sucking cock don’t you?” Katsuki taunts, head tilting backwards with a breathy moan when you whine in response.

He keeps you choking on his dick with a firm hold for at least ten seconds. Until you’re starting to claw at his thighs, until you’re starting to resist, and then suddenly you’re being pulled off him. Your lungs burn, coughing and swallowing air as Shouto takes his fingers from you.

You’re spun around and sat on Katsuki’s lap faster than you can blink as the blonde sits up straighter, saliva covered cock sliding between your ass. Your eyes open wide as you meet Shouto’s yearning mismatched gaze and he gives you a half smile.

Katsuki bends his knees and plants his feet so you’re cradled in his lap, thrusting so his cock catches briefly on your rim before sliding upwards.

“I want you baby,” Shouto tells you sincerely, running his knuckles over your cheekbone. You grin adoringly at him in return, lids fluttering as Katsuki rolls his hips against you once more.

“Someone’s impatient,” you try to tease, but it comes out partially strangled. “I want you too Shouto.”

Katsuki snorts behind you, patting your ass to get you to rise up a bit. You do so automatically.

“Well fuck me then, right?” Katsuki teases as he grips his shaft and lines himself up with you. Shouto rolls his eyes playfully.

“Well she is about to sit on your cock,” Shouto deadpans. You try to cover a laugh by slapping a hand over your mouth.

“You’re a fucking comedian aren’t ya Sho?” Katsuki says with a strained voice as you start to sink down on him. You gasp loudly when he pushes past your tight, slick rim and he moans.

Shouto stays silent, keeping his eyes locked with yours while you take in the blonde’s cock until you’re sitting completely in his lap. It aches, a dull throb as you shift around to get comfortable. Desperate for the pain to go away you start to rise up and down on the cock splitting you open, bracing your weight on Katsuki’s knees.

Shouto squeezes the base of his shaft, twitching in his own grip because the sight of you riding Katsuki, tits bouncing inches from his face is making him want to cum. Now.

The blonde holds your hips, biceps flexing as he helps you move, impatiently working for the pleasure you know is near by. Soon enough, the pain starts to fade and a warm shiver takes it place at the base of your spine, slithering through your veins unabashedly.

You stare at Shouto with half lidded eyes, studying the way his skin flushes as he watches the two of you silently, fisting his cock teasingly. The other hero shuffles closer, leaning forward as you begin slowing to a crawling pace when he gets in your personal space. Katsuki, surprisingly, holds his tongue when you do.

Shouto kisses you then, slightly chapped lips meeting yours. You bring your arms up to play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, scratching at his scalp and humming against his mouth.

When you can’t breathe any longer you break away, tongue poking out to run over your bottom lip. Shouto peers over your shoulder at Katsuki.

“Can I be inside her now?” He asks restlessly and you practically hear Katsuki’s eye roll.

“So fucking needy,” Katsuki mutters. “Lean back on my chest baby, I’m gonna cum if we stay like this anyways.”

You press one more kiss to Shouto’s mouth and recline until your back hits a solid, warm chest. Katsuki grips under your knees and pulls your thighs back towards you.

You steady yourself by hanging onto to the blonde’s forearms, biting your tongue when Shouto crawls forward. He settles on his knees, stroking his cock as he tilts his head and gawks at the place Katsuki disappears inside you. Gaze flickering over your pussy on display just for him.

“C’mon Shouto, what’re you waiting for?” You encourage him, the anticipation racing down your spine. You involuntarily clench around Katsuki and the blonde hisses when he speaks.

“God, Shouto hurry the fuck up.”

Shouto does hurry the fuck up.

He steadies his cock head against your pussy and begins a leisure press, sliding in in in until you’re completely filled.

They both allow you time to adjust, whispering praise and toe curling, filthy sweet nothings into your ears.

Katsuki is unable to move in his position underneath you both, so Shouto takes control. He helps the blonde support your thighs and essentially fucks you both with deliberate and brain melting thrusts until Katsuki cums first with a choked off cry of Shouto’s name.

Shouto tells him how pretty he is like that and the blonde buries his face in the back of your shoulder.

You’re quick to follow when Shouto curls his hips just right and then your pussy’s suffocating him. You’re scratching at his toned chest and arching your back, leaving angry red lines near his collarbone.

Shouto falls over the edge just knowing he pushed you both to your peak.

As you all soak in the hazy afterglow, you try to catch your breath, leaning your entire weight on Katsuki’s chest as Shouto gingerly pulls his cock out.

“Get the hell off me, my legs are falling asleep,” Katsuki complains playfully. You smack his thigh sharply in retaliation and he laughs.

“Fuck off, I’m going.” Delicately you sit up and rise off him, rolling to the side and flopping onto your stomach with a wariness about how sore you’ll be tomorrow.

You’re unsure what happens next, drifting off until you wake up later in the night clean and with an oversized shirt on again.

You recognize this one as Shouto’s.

Grinning to yourself you turn and check on both men to find them out like lights.

You settle back down between them right where you belong and sleep better than you have for weeks.

[hansolmates]

remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae​ / @eerieedits​ for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

if u like this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share💕💕💕💕

“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room. 

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides. 

“For fuck’s sake—” 

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals. 

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you. 

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure. 

Speaking of pleasure. 

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm. 

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely. 

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning. 

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch! 

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u 

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook. 

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor. 

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat. 

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.) 

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest. 

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back. 

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour. 

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!” 

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately. 

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed. 

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone. 

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.” 

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out. 

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging. 

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!” 

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud. 

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.” 

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment. 

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you. 

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.” 

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.” 

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy. 

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision. 

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.” 

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily. 

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response. 

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s  your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura. 

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.” 

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide. 

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.” 

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.” 

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour. 

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed. 

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—” 

“You’re deflecting.” 

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.” 

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?” 

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely. 

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand. 

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—” 

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.” 

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.” 

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?” 

Fuck. 

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties. 

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?” 

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.” 

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand. 

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.” 

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.” 

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.” 

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex. 

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles. 

“I want to hear you say it, doll.” 

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.” 

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.” 

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest. 

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app. 

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt. 

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?” 

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness. 

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.” 

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?” 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?” 

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait? 

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about? 

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices. 

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch. 

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time 

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go. 

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on. 

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—” 

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice. 

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech. 

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?” 

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.” 

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?” 

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.” 

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.” 

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake. 

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.” 

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says. 

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual. 

“What?” 

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.” 

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.” 

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices. 

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch. 

“It’s in,” you reply softly. 

“Good.” 

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable! 

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer. 

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm. 

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line. 

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?” 

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here. 

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?” 

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly. 

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting. 

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…” 

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!” 

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.” 

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips. 

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?” 

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.” 

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.” 

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking. 

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?” 

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.” 

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?” 

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!” 

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?” 

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—” 

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you. 

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice. 

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass. 

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.” 

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking. 

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours. 

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of. 

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.” 

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot. 

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator. 

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—” 

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.” 

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?” 

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.” 

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.” 

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later. 

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval. 

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts. 

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.” 

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply. 

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.” 

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent. 

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out. 

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.” 

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!” 

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you. 

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands. 

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?” 

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.” 

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.” 

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.” 

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication. 

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.” 

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.” 

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery. 

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest. 

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.” 

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated. 

[memeadonna]

Anything for You, Baby

Hello everyone! This is a short little thirst story I wrote for @sendhelpimstupid featuring Sugar Baby Kirishima. The stunning art can be found here. Please visit her page and show her some love! 

This story is 18+. Minors DNI 

Warnings: Sugar Baby/Sugar Mommy Relationship, Premature Ejaculation, Cross-Dressing, Sub Kirishima, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Mild Choking, Scratching and Biting Mentioned, Vaginal Intercourse, I wrote this in like 3 hours sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes

Word Count: 2,562

Of all the things you were thankful for in life, people were always surprised when you mentioned Kirishima's expensive taste. Your entire relationship had started because he hadn't noticed how much money he'd been spending until one day he was overdrawn. He hadn't added up the totals of his expenses in his head, hadn't realized every time he swiped his card that money left his account. He liked the finer things in life, and how was he supposed to know that his bank account was meant to last him all of his first semester? His parents had told him "figure it out", so he couldn't even ask them for help. 

Being at a hero school was tough already – he could barely even enjoy the city nightlife since he was stuck at the dorms between classes doing homework. He didn't even have enough time to get a job outside of school hours. Maybe he wasn't cut out for university, let alone at a prestigious hero school. 

You had noticed Kirishima's state of panic, and when he confessed to everyone in the dorm that he was out of money, people (Bakugou and his other friends) had made fun of him. Uraraka and Iida had stepped in immediately, chastising them for mocking him. He tried to play it off as no big deal, that he'd figure it out, and the conversation shifted elsewhere. 

You'd been born into a wealthy family like Iida and Momo, and on top of that you'd had your own job throughout high school, so you'd saved up lots of money already.  "I could hire you," you told him after everyone had left for the night. "Pay you to do things for me." 

"I don't need your charity," he'd snapped back. "Did Bakugou put you up to this?" 

"I just thought I'd offer to help you since we're friends," you answered calmly, before getting up and heading to your dorm. That night you'd sat up late regretting ever asking him if he needed help. 

Early the next morning he was at your door. "What kind of things?" was the first thing he asked, as you rubbed your eyes and blinked up at him blearily. You made him repeat himself twice because the words didn't stick in your brain this early. 

"Clean my room, do my laundry," you'd finally told him, offering what you hoped was a kind smile. "Other things when I want them." The blush he gave you at those words more than made up for his harshness last night. 

You'd started slowly, of course. You gave him rewards for handing in assignments on time, taken him out to dinner when he got good grades, and little treats for random things. "Do I always need a reason, baby?" you'd asked him one night as he examined the concert tickets, you'd just given him. You'd been delighted to accept the ticket he gave back to you and had secretly smiled to yourself as Denki had whined and complained that Kirishima had promised to take him! But that was back when Kirishima was spending his money on everything. Now he was just spending it on himself. 

One day, half-joking, you'd gifted him a French Maid outfit to clean your room in. It was just a little too tight for him (he couldn't even do the zipper up!), but it was the creamy white stockings and cute little heels you were interested in. He tried his hardest to clean your room, but after the third time he rolled his ankle, he ended up with you in his lap, and let's just say that your relationship changed from there. 

You'd pushed him back into your bed and felt him up beneath the skirts and ruffles. You left a smattering of dark hickies over his neck and collarbones, moving down his body with clear intent. He was beet red, sitting up and panting as he watched you with wide eyes. Your hands slipped below his skirts and trailed up his legs, and you watched him squirm. "Aw," you teased, revelling in your victory. "What's wrong, does the baby like getting dressed up all cute and ravaged?" 

He stammered with a reply for a moment, but you dipped under his skirt and the breathy gasp he let out as you began to kiss up his thighs was more than worth it. A part of you wanted to pull back out and apply lipstick so you could leave more evidence of your kisses, but there was no way in hell you were going to back down now. You settled for more hickies and a few bites, and by the time you reached your prize, he was hard and throbbing. 

You were the only person with a dorm on your floor (luck of the draw), so you didn't dare tell him he should quiet down his moaning, especially not as you slid the lacy panties reverently down his thighs. 

It was clearly his first time, and he was squirming in your grip as you gave him a teasing lick. A part of you wanted to pull back and tease him some more, but this was too good to pass up. He threw an arm over his eyes and slipped his other hand into your hair. He arched his back as you raked your nails down his thighs, and let out the sweetest noise you'd ever heard, blowing his load directly in your face before you could even get him into your mouth. After you'd finished laughing and wiped his spunk off of your face, you'd given him the sweetest kiss on the cheek. He'd gone beet red as you laughed, and hadn't said no when you promised him a shopping spree because he was just so good for you. 

The sales lady at the lingered store had been surprisingly accommodating when you'd asked her if they carried up to a 3X. 

He'd been your sugar baby for all of first year, even after he got his own allowance from his parents. He'd been your boyfriend the rest of your university career (of course, you still liked to treat your spoiled baby), and a few years out of school he'd asked you to marry him, with that same sweet expression he always had when he told you he loved you. 

The world saw Red Riot as a strong, manly hero that took shit from nobody. They also saw him as hopelessly in love with you (or with Dynamight, depending on which magazine you read). He was a real Man's Man, always on the covers of fitness magazines or advertising sports drinks and protein powders. He advocated for always being chivalrous and brave, but that Manly Men also took the time to be vulnerable and compassionate. 

One thing that hadn't changed since your days in university was the fact that your Eijirou loved to be spoiled. Shopping sprees, private chefs, weekends away… his eyes always lit up no matter what you surprised him with. You were both similarly ranked in the charts, and both made a lot of money, but he secretly adored the fact that you had a bank account you filled up every month just for him. He'd buy whatever he wanted with it, whether it was designer clothes or handbags (for either of you), or any number of things (he particularly liked buying new gym equipment that the two of you most certainly didn't need). 

Today had been a hard day. You'd been overusing your quirk and your muscles were sore, not to mention you'd been working with one Lord Explosion Murder God which meant that you'd been ordered around all day.

When you got home, a note from your husband was laying on the counter. Eijirou would be home a little late, and you could order whatever for dinner. Grumbling to yourself, you refused to take yet another order from yet another person and reheated leftovers in the fridge. Take that, loving husband! 

You ate standing at the counter in your uniform, and after you'd put the dishes away you marched up to your bedroom, already peeling your costume off. You left it on the bathroom floor as you hopped into the shower, and just let the hot water scald your aching muscles. You used Eijirou's body wash because you missed his smell, and changed into your pyjamas while you combed your hair. 

You crawled under the covers and scrolled on your phone for a while, wishing your husband would just hurry up and come home already. You wanted to fall asleep in his arms, hear him tell you all about how he would protect you from the bad things in the world. 

The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs woke you from a restless sleep, and you sat up in bed. How long were you asleep? Was that your Eiji? 

The door opened, and what greeted you took your breath away. Your husband stood in the doorway with a sheer robe, trimmed with red faux fur. It was tied with a ribbon around his waist and accentuated his hips beautifully. He was wearing red lacy thigh highs and nothing else beneath the robe. He completed the look with a set of Louis Vuitton stilettos, which you noticed in passing due to the stunning everything else the Adonis before you was showing off. 

"Hey," he purred. "Heard you had a rough day." He smirked at you as your eyes trailed up and down his body. "Can I make it better?" he took a few steps into the room, undoing the ribbon around his waist teasingly slowly. He opened the robe, letting it fall off his shoulders and rest at his elbows. He had filled out a lot since university, and he was a healthy 7'6 and twice as wide as you. He could lift you with one arm and toss you like a football if he wanted, but as he dropped his robe to the floor and elegantly clicked his way across the room towards you, he had no intention of tossing you around tonight. That thought made sparks dance around your core, and you felt your panties starting to soak. 

You sat up on your knees for a better look at him. He ran his hands over his body, shamelessly showing off for you. His dick stood proud and tall and was already leaking for you. You smiled at him as you slipped into your role. "Did you buy that to look pretty for me?" you asked ever so sweetly. "Sounds like you want a reward." 

He walked right up to the side of the bed with a breathy "Yes,". You leaned up for a kiss and enjoyed the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he took his time with you. 

His hands gently explored your curves, squeezing the plush of your thighs and the soft skin beneath your breasts, and as you pulled back to lick your lips at him, "Anything for you, Baby," felt like the most natural thing to say. 

He crawled into bed, careful not to kick you with his knife-shoes, and placed his wrists at the headboard. You attached the restraints with all the care in the world, and ran your hands over your baby's chest, admiring all of the scars that years of hero work had marked him with. "You're beautiful," you told him, leaning down for another kiss. 

You painted his chest with kisses and hickies, not caring if they'd be visible the next day. Let people stare. Let people know who your man belonged to. 

"I love these too," you ran your hand over his new stockings. "You know lace is my favourite." 

"Always the best for mommy," he purred back, pleased with himself as you explored his body. It had become familiar to you; you knew everywhere he was sensitive. You knew how to get him going, how to slow him down, and how to drive him wild. You shrugged off your own pyjamas and he let out a noise of approval, eyes taking in your curves. "You're stunning." He offered, looking absolutely awestruck. If his hands were free, they'd be all over you, but now was not his turn for control. 

You slid off your panties and tossed them off the bed, eyeing his body up with increasing lust, before suddenly straddling him and sinking down onto him with a small noise of discomfort. He let out a sharp noise of concern and pleasure, gasping. "You've gotta prep yourself!" He hissed, half-drunk on the tight squeeze. 

"Shut up," you answered, and picked up a brutal pace. He let out a strangled noise and arched up into your touch, gasping and whining and looking up at you with eyes clouded by lust as he gave harsh thrusts up into your welcoming body. His hands hardened and unhardened within their restraints, along with a line along his forehead. You wrapped your hands around his throat, and he tilted his head back to bare it to you. His moans crescendoed as you began to put pressure on him, canting your hips faster and faster. 

He was drunk off the lust singing in his veins and bent one of his knees to give you better leverage. You freed one of his hands from its restraint and it immediately flew to your hip to help you ride. His tongue was lolling out of his mouth, and his breath came in desperate gasps. "Gonna cum!" he whined, blinking desperately up at you. "Please mommy! Please let me fucking cum I want to cum so bad!" he babbled, blinking his pretty crimson eyes up at you. 

You gently caressed his face and smiled down at him. You leaned in closer, giving him a deep kiss. "So do it," you growled. "Knock me up." 

His hips faltered and the absolute roar he let out at your challenge sent a pleased shiver through you. He ripped the other restraint right off of the bedframe (along with a chunk of the frame itself) and flipped you onto your back, all without pulling out of you. He kissed you ravenously, his hands squeezing every inch of you. He grabbed one of your tits in one hand as he reached his other down to play with your clit. He threw you over the edge, and as you came around him, his thrusts changed. They were sharp and purposeful as he poured everything he had into your body. 

"Mine," he growled out, sinking his fangs into the tender meat of your shoulder. He didn't dare move as the two of you came down from your highs but rolled the two of you back over so he didn't crush you. You laughed a little and cuddled into his chest, enjoying the warmth of a womb full of his cum and the delicious stretch of him inside of you, not to mention the feeling of utter safety that having his arms around you brought. "I love you." He purred, giving your forehead a kiss.  

"I love you too," you answered back, smiling up at him with tenderness. 

"Did you really mean it?" he traced his hands over your back, massaging your tender shoulders. "You want to start a family?" 

"Mhm," you nodded tiredly, before looking back up at him once again, echoing your earlier promise: "Anything for you, Baby." 

Taglist: @malicealieness (If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send me an ask requesting it)

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: Julie and the Phantoms are on tour and Juke are dating, one stop on tour Luke gets sick  (woke up with fever, swollen glands, sore throat etc) and the doctor diagnoses him with strep and an ear infection and Julie takes care his stubborn butt back to the hotel because he doesn't like to let down the fans since they have to cancel few shows.

Anonymous requested: alive guys, out of school in the real world, now all living in an apartment together. The 5 Times Luke Was Sick, and The 5 Times Julie Cured Him and maybe add in the 1 time Luke returns the favour of taking care of Julie.

Anonymous requested: Luke and Julie are married and have a daughter (Rose, 3). Rose and Luke end up waking up sick with the flu and Julie takes care of them, and she gets worn down from doing everything and caring for them. And even with him being sick in bed he lays with Rose when Julie’s beat and cuddles her when she feels sick even though he feels the same. Cute family fluff basically.

We Will Fight To Shine Together

The entire week had been hectic. Julie – along with her boys, Luke, Alex, and Reggie – had finally got the keys to their new apartment and had spent the whole of the previous two days hauling their belongings there from their respective homes. Ray Molina, protective as always, had been breathing down their necks in a frantic and worried attempt to help them out, the presence of Willie and Flynn had resulted in less unpacking and more Cardboard Box Wars, and most of their things were strewn about in unlikely places after the chaos of unpacking; just that morning Julie had found Alex’s drumsticks in the fridge.

But they were finally there, they were finally home, and there was nothing to worry about. Everything in the apartment seemed to be in order, they weren’t set to go on tour for another six months so the stress of that was still a way off, and the band’s new-found sense of freedom and independence hung over them like a rainbow. There was nothing that could have gone wrong. Nothing except–

“Dude, you look sick! And not in the good way.”

Julie had been sat atop the kitchen counter, watching Alex prepare their breakfast, but she looked towards the door when she heard Reggie’s exclamation. Stood in the doorway, bundled in about four hoodies, his eyes bloodshot and his nose running, was Luke. Reggie was right – he looked as if he were about to keel over and die. His puppy dog eyes were wide and watery and he looked utterly dreadful.

“Luke,” Julie said, hopping off the counter and heading over to him. “Are you feeling alright?”

He shook his head and sniffled pathetically. “I’m sick,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, you look it,” Julie said. She took his hand and gently led him towards a kitchen chair. He collapsed into it with a relieved sigh as if he couldn’t have bared standing any longer.

To Julie’s surprise (and slight annoyance) Alex and Reggie were laughing.

“You must have the weakest immune system known to man,” Alex joked as he put the group’s breakfast onto plates.

“On the bright side, Willie owes me ten dollars,” Reggie said with a beam. “I bet him you wouldn’t last two weeks before getting sick.”

Julie put her hands on her hips and glared at the two boys who immediately ceased their laughter. She knew she could be quite terrifying when she wanted to and she didn’t like abusing that power too much, but this was a situation she felt called for it.

“You two are seriously lacking compassion,” she scolded, pointing to and from Alex and Reggie. “Your friend is ill and all you can do is laugh at him. It’s mean – he has it difficult enough right now.”

Luke, pouting pathetically, nodded in agreement.

Alex and Reggie, both looking suitably chastised, muttered, “Sorry Julie.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t apologise to me.”

“Sorry Luke.”

“That’s better,” she said. Julie took herself out of Mother Mode and returned to Supportive Girlfriend. She gently ran her fingers through Luke’s hair – he relaxed a little as her touch. “I’m going to take you back to bed, you’re going to get some rest while I look up your symptoms, and then I’m going to take care of you.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “It’s probably just a cold. You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, but I’m going to. Come on.”

Julie sent one more cutting glare to Reggie and Alex before helping Luke stand and leading him back through their little apartment to their shared bedroom. She eased him back into the bed, helped him make a half-nest-half-fort with the pillows and duvet, then grabbed her laptop and set up YouTube for him. Then, she pulled up a tab on her phone and sat beside him on the bed.

“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?” she asked.

Luke shook his head.

“Are you feeling dizzy at all?”

“A little bit,” he croaked.

She smiled knowingly. “Sore throat too?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

Julie asked him more questions, then determined that because of the stress of moving his immune system had utterly crashed and some nasty bug had seized the opportunity. According to the internet, he needed plenty of bed rest, he should have been kept warm, he needed a lot of water, and most of all he simply needed to not do anything for a while.

“But we’re supposed to go to the studio tomorrow to record a bunch of songs,” Luke protested when Julie told him. He sat up abruptly, but eased himself back down, a hand rested against his forehead, wincing.

“You’re not going anywhere like that,” Julie told him. “I’ll call the studio and let them know we’ll have to record your parts a different time. Don’t say anything,” she commanded as he opened his mouth to argue again. “I’m not changing my mind.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear but assumed was something childishly rude – it had certainly sounded as if he’d been mocking her voice. She ignored him and instead headed back out to the kitchen. Julie grabbed painkillers and a large glass of water and took them back to Luke who had started a long YouTube playlist of Bondi Rescue videos.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be sitting in front of a screen if you’re dizzy,” Julie contemplated, handing him the tablets and the drink. Luke looked up at her with a mixture of sadness and fury in his eyes.

“I’ve already lost my health, I can’t lose Bondi Rescue too,” he said.

She breathed a laugh and sat back down beside him. He immediately melted into her side, his head rested against her abdomen. She stroked her fingers through his hair and felt him sigh at the touch.

He was asleep within minutes.

*

Julie and the Phantoms were on tour. It was a moment they had all been anticipating ever since they’d inducted Julie into the band. The four of them had saved up enough money to buy their own tour bus emblazoned with their faces and the band’s logo and were spending nine months driving across the United States and Canada to perform their show to sold-out crowds. Julie could hardly believe it was happening.

Right that moment, part of her wished it weren’t happening.

Julie had been led to understand that before she joined the band and became the responsible one, Alex was the ‘parental figure’ who had kept Luke and Reggie (both far more boisterous by nature) in check. If anyone had told her that on the second leg of their tour, she would not have believed it for a moment. Alex was sat in the passenger seat beside her, but was leaning over the back of it to swat at Reggie who was kicking the back of his seat. Both were calling each other childish names and their hands were flapping about like they were having a catfight. Julie had given up trying to stop them about two hundred miles ago.

Looking after them sometimes felt like having a pair of toddlers. Though more often it was like having three toddlers because Luke would find a way to join in on the shenanigans. But right then, in the backseat beside Reggie, he was oddly quiet.

“Luke,” Julie called over Alex and Reggie’s squabbling, readjusting the mirror so she could see Luke behind her. “You okay?”

Luke nodded then tried to clear his throat. “Yeah,” he said, voice gravelly. “Sore throat, that’s all.”

Julie frowned. “Are you sure? You don’t sound good. Will you be able to sing for tomorrow’s show?”

His eyes widened frantically at the mention of the performance. “Of course! I’ll be fine, it’s just a sore throat.”

It was, unfortunately, very clearly not just a sore throat.

Julie pulled the tour bus into the parking lot of their hotel and the gang all headed to their rooms. Julie and Luke were sharing, partially to save money and partially because they wanted to. Before they went to sleep, Julie checked again with Luke to see if he was alright and again he told her in that rough voice that he was fine.

However, when they woke up Luke seemed distinctly worse for wear. He was radiating heat like the sun but shivering as if he were in the arctic, he was complaining of pain in his right ear, and when Julie looked down his throat she saw that his tonsils were swollen and covered in white spots.

“You’re not going on stage like this,” she said, shaking her head. “No way. I’m calling a doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” Luke insisted, attempting to hoist himself into a sitting position but giving up quickly. “It’s just a sore throat.”

“You can try telling me that again when you can swallow more than a drop of water,” Julie said before picking up her phone and calling the nearest doctor.

Luckily, the doctor was able to come out to the hotel so Luke didn’t have to even get out of bed. The doctor took one look at his symptoms, then turned to Julie.

“Looks like strep throat,” they said, snapping their latex gloves off. “The pain in the ear is because of an ear infection that came after the bacteria travelled from the throat to the middle ear. I’m going to prescribe him a course of antibiotics, he’ll need to take them all otherwise the infection will come back stronger. I recommend he doesn’t perform for at least another month to give the infection ample time to heal.”

“A month?” Luke tried to yell, but it came out as an outraged breathy whisper.

“Yes,” the doctor said, looking down at him over their glasses. “Your infection is particularly severe, Mr Patterson, and if you want to finish your tour then I suggest you take my advice.”

“We can’t cancel shows,” Luke protested weakly. “Think of how excited everyone’s been…”

Julie smiled to the doctor and saw them out of the room. “Thank you very much,” she said. “I’ll make sure he gets those antibiotics and plenty of rest.”

Once the doctor was gone, Julie called Flynn, the official manager for Julie and the Phantoms and Julie’s lifelong best friend. “Cancel every show for the next month,” she instructed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Are you alright, Jules?” Flynn said, immediately sounding concerned. “I can come over and take care of you, whatever you need, I’ll book a flight right now–”

“I’m fine, Flynn,” Julie assured her. “It’s Luke. He’s got strep.”

“Oh no.” Flynn’s worry morphed into something akin to disappointment. “He’s literally the worst one of you guys to get ill right now.”

“Tell me about it. He’s furious that we’ve even suggested cancelling the shows.”

“He gets it’s for his own good, right?” Flynn asked.

Julie shook her head even though Flynn couldn’t see her. “He knows that but he doesn’t want to let everyone down. He’s been more excited for the tour than the fans have – he doesn’t want any of it to go wrong and this is about as wrong as it could go.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it once the ‘get well soon’ messages start arriving,” Flynn said.

“I think that’ll just make it worse,” Julie countered. “Anyway, it’s fine. There’s nothing we can do. Just make sure everyone knows the next shows are cancelled.”

“You got it, boss. Good luck with Luke.”

“I’ll need it.”

Julie hung up on Flynn and headed back towards Luke. He was still sat up in the bed, looking very sorry for himself as he pouted with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, crouching down next to his side of the bed. “I’m going to make you some hot honey and lemon water – my mom always made it for me when I got a sore throat. It’ll help, I promise. Is there anything else you want?”

“I want to do the shows,” he said petulantly.

Julie shook her head firmly. “You heard the doctor – none of us are going on any stage for another month. Flynn’s cancelling the shows as we speak.”

Luke looked aghast. “No!”

“Yes. You’re sick, Luke. And think about it; if this were me or Alex or Reggie in your position, what would you say to do?”

“I’d say we should cancel the shows until you got better,” he said as if the answer were obvious, then he seemed to hear his own words and deflated a little. “Fine. I suppose this is for the best. I… I just feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

Julie intertwined their fingers and held his hand tightly. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “You aren’t letting anybody down, Luke. It’s not your fault that you’re sick and there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. All that can be done is for you to rest and take your meds so that the next shows we do are as good as they can be. Okay?”

He rolled his eyes sighed, but there was the tiniest smile playing about his lips. “Okay.”

*

Julie had said it was a bad idea from the very beginning, but the boys had insisted that they’d done it before and it was perfectly safe.

It felt good to be proven right, but less good to be vomited on.

The first problem was that there was definitely not enough room anywhere in their tiny apartment for three grown men to attempt the famous lift from Dirty Dancing. Julie had pointed that out. She had pointed it out almost a dozen times. Every time, Reggie had told her that they didn’t actually need a lot of space, trust me.

The second problem was that their heights simply didn’t add up to a safe lift. Luke and Reggie were of a similar build, but Alex was much taller and there wasn’t really anywhere for him to go – if he held up one of the guys, they’d be held at an angle; if he were the one on top, he would likely crush the other two.

The third and final problem was that none of the boys were dancers and had no training or experience, therefore none of them knew how to do the lift properly and safely. Julie had stretched this argument to its breaking point but the three idiots had not heeded her warning.

And so they had done the lift.

It had started out strong. They had decided that Alex would be the one in the air, so Luke and Reggie had got into position with their hands outstretched and Alex had taken a great running start and leapt at them. To their credit, the boys held Alex in the air for a solid three seconds before Reggie lost his balance and Luke’s grip slipped, and the three of them went tumbling to the ground.

Julie watched in unsurprised horror as Alex fell flat on top of Reggie and scrambled to get off him, while Luke dropped far too close to the dining table and whacked his head on its corner with a grotesque thud.

He was out cold.

Julie muttered a curse and hurried towards him. Alex and Reggie gathered around slowly too, warily looking down at Luke, clearly feeling guilty.

“Luke?” Julie said to the unconscious lump in her lap. He was heavier than he looked – she privately understood why they had decided to lift Alex instead. “Can you hear me, sweetie?”

After a few more minutes, Luke came to, groaning and cradling his head.

“Hey,” Alex said, smiling brightly. “You’re awake! Sorry about that, we–”

Alex didn’t get to finish his sentence because Luke interrupted him by loudly and violently throwing up on Alex’s shoes. A little bit hit Julie’s dress and she quickly yanked the fabric out of the way.

Alex looked at his shoes disappointedly. After a long while he said, “I am going to the bathroom. Either to shower or be sick, I’m not sure yet,” and then disappeared.

Reggie was a deathly shade of green, staring at Luke and the vomit.

“If you don’t like it you can go, Reggie,” Julie said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Reggie nodded and followed Alex out of the room, wide-eyed.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” Julie said. Luke nodded vaguely, his eyes far away, and she led him through the apartment to their bedroom. She only just managed to get him into bed before he started slipping into unconsciousness again.

It was plain as day that Luke had a nasty concussion. Julie tucked him into bed, then switched off the lights and drew the curtains so that it was almost pitch black. She got him an enormous glass of water and readied all the painkillers she could find, as well as grabbing a large bowl so that he didn’t have to run to the bathroom if he needed to be sick again. Then she looked up concussion on her phone – it said that if he’d woken up after being knocked out then he needed to go to hospital; she wasn’t sure how she was meant to get him there now that he was unconscious again.

Julie decided to wait until he woke up again. She laid down beside him on the bed and pressed the gentlest of kisses to his forehead.

“You’re such an idiot,” she whispered. “I love you.”

*

Julie loved her boys usually, but sometimes she really believed they lacked the common sense necessary for general survival.

“You did what?!”

Luke, Alex, and Reggie looked between each other frantically, stuttering for excuses.

“Uuuuhhhh…”

“Nothing really out of the ordinary, I don’t think.”

“Pretty sure it was actually you who did something they shouldn’t have.”

Julie raised her hands and the boys silenced. She glared at them, half furious and half exasperated.

“Are you seriously telling me – or rather not telling me – that after all the times I specifically told you it would be a bad idea, you went and got hotdogs that were being sold out of the back of an Oldsmobile?”

“In our defence,” Reggie piped up, raising his hand like a kid answering a question in class, “they smelled really good.”

“Wish they’d tasted as good as they smelled,” Luke grumbled. Alex hit him.

“I have never met anyone with less common sense!” Julie yelled, waving her arms. “What is wrong with you? What made you think it’d be a good idea? How did you not think that it was the dodgiest set up for any fast food ever?”

“Relax,” Reggie said, “street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

The highly questionable hotdogs did not, in fact, kill them. However, the next day all three boys were overcome with food poisoning so horrible that Julie simply could not take care of them all by herself.

That morning she sent a quick text to Willie to offload Alex to him: Come and get your dumb boyfriend, he and his idiot friends ate bad hotdogs and got sick, you can take one. Twenty minutes later, Willie showed up to take Alex back to his apartment, an ungodly amount of blankets in his hands when he arrived at the apartment.

Reggie was the least ill – he could pretty much take care of himself and at the very least he wasn’t throwing up everywhere. He stayed on the couch, watching some cartoon on repeat. Julie let him be.

Luke, on the other hand, was quite the task. He was feeling and looking absolutely dreadful, unable to move himself from his bed and being sick whenever he tried to do so much as drink a glass of water. Julie truly had her hands full trying to take care of him.

Despite his protests, she called the studio and cancelled their appointment with Luke today. He was in no fit state to record any hit songs right then; he could hardly even open his mouth without sick coming out of it.

Feeling particularly frazzled, Julie finally allowed herself a little break from rushing around after Luke to relax, just for a moment. She settled herself comfortably onto the bed beside Luke once his sickness had calmed down a bit and fired up Netflix. She could feel his doleful eyes on her as she selected a movie and let it play.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

“Are you apologising for being sick or for eating those hotdogs even though I told you not to?” she questioned.

Luke had the good grace to look a little ashamed. “Both.”

Julie shifted a little to wrap her arms around Luke’s midriff. “Don’t apologise for being sick. It is your fault, but don’t say sorry for it. I will accept your apology for disobeying me though.”

Luke rested his head against Julie’s shoulders, shuffling further into the covers. “We should have listened to you, I know. But if you could have just smelled those hotdogs…”

“Yeah, I’m sure they smelled great mingling with the stench of petrol,” Julie deadpanned. “I’m starting to think you three need constant adult supervision.”

“We are adults.”

“That’s why I’m so worried.”

Luke huffed a laugh, but then frowned. “I feel bad. You’re always the one taking care of me. Just once I want to take care of you.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want me to get sick?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” he said hurriedly, even though Julie had been joking. “I just meant that you do such a good job with this every time. I want to give you a break.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Julie assured him. “But… if I ever do get sick, I’ll make sure to come straight to you and you can take care of me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Luke said with a soft smile.

*

It had been many years since Luke had been really sick. Julie had naively thought that maybe they’d get lucky and he’d never be sick again. Maybe his laughable immune system had finally caught up and had strengthened itself against what most people could avoid easily.

Wishful thinking.

Flu season was set to ruin Julie’s life. She had woken up one Monday morning and followed her usual routine, heading to her daughter’s bedroom to wake her up for preschool. She had shaken little Rose awake, but the three-year-old had been extremely hot.

“Oh, sweetie,” Julie had said gently. “Are you feeling sick?”

Rose, rubbing her teary tired eyes, had nodded and cried very quietly.

Julie had pulled her into a hug. “Okay, honey. You go back to sleep. It’s alright.”

She laid Rose back down, tucked her back in, and encouraged her to sleep. It took a long time and a lot of tears from Rose, but eventually the little girl drifted back into a fitful slumber. Feeling like all she wanted to do was go to sleep herself, Julie headed back to her own bedroom and shook Luke awake.

“Luke,” she whispered. “Rose is sick. I’m going to call the preschool and tell them she won’t be in, but then I’ve got to get to the studio. You think you can take care of her today?”

Luke sleepily opened his eyes and groaned as he shifted into a sitting position. He held a hand to his head – it looked far too similar to him steadying his balance for Julie’s liking.

She sighed. “Please don’t tell me you’re sick as well?”

Luke tried for a smile. “No, no, I’m alright. I’ll take care of Rose, don’t worry.”

He tried to swing himself out of bed, but Julie didn’t miss the way that the sudden movement made him wince. That and the fact that he clapped a hand to his mouth, the other held over his stomach. Unsteadily, he got to his feet and headed to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back to the bedroom looking sheepish.

“I’m sick too,” he said quietly.

Julie sighed haggardly and looked to the alarm clock on her bedside table. She needed to be at the studio to start her recording session in half an hour, but no part of her was willing to leave her husband and daughter alone while both of them were seeming awfully ill. She quickly made her decision.

“You get back to bed,” she said gently to Luke, taking his hand and leading him back to the bed.

“No, I need to get Rose,” he said, but he grudgingly followed her.

“I’m going to get Rose,” Julie told him as she sat him down and tucked him in. “I’ll bring her here and you can stay snuggled up together. I’ll call the preschool, run some errands, and I’ll check on you both later, okay?”

Luke nodded and lifted Julie’s hand to his lips as if to kiss it, then seemed to think better of it and dropped it. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Julie went back to Rose’s room. The little girl was fast asleep, wriggling around a little as she dreamt, her black curls that were the same as her mother’s spread out over her pillow. Gently, Julie picked her up and held her tightly to her chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as she carried her to her own bedroom.

Luke smiled as Julie entered the room with Rose cradled in her arms. He lifted up the duvet so that Julie could lay Rose down beside him. As she put Rose down, the little girl woke up. She looked around, seeming surprised to have been moved. Then she began to cry very, very quietly.

“Dada,” she wailed, tiny fists clutching at Luke’s pyjama top. “Mama!”

Julie was exhausted. She could see a long day ahead of her, looking after both of the most important people in her life as they battled this disgusting illness. But as she looked at them – tearful little Rose snuggled up with Luke, who had his arms around her tightly, stroking her back soothingly as he whispered shushes – she felt a little bit of that exhaustion melt away, replaced with love.

She perched herself on the bed. “Rosie,” she whispered, tucking one of Rose’s stray hairs behind her ear. “If you quiet down, Mama will sing you a lullaby.”

Luke’s eyes widened. Behind the bloodshot sickness, Julie could see the love and admiration he had for her in them. She beamed at him, and he smiled back as if in awe of her. She felt her heart swell with love.

Rose hushed a little and Julie began the lullaby that her own mother had sung to her when she was little. It was a traditional little rhyme, simple and easy, but the beautiful melismatic notes strung together like bunting made the rising melodies sound ethereally pretty. It had always been one of Julie’s favourite songs.

Rose fell back asleep, huddled in Luke’s arms. Luke reached his hand out of took Julie’s hand.

“You’re perfect,” he mouthed, trying not to wake Rose.

Julie smiled, gently kissed his hand, and finally got up to phone the preschool.

*

Julie never got sick. It wasn’t in her nature. It just didn’t happen.

Except for that one time.

Julie woke up with the highest temperature the thermometer had ever recorded, her head was spinning like she was on a rollercoaster, and her muscles felt so fatigued that she couldn’t get out of bed.

And yet, she said to Luke, “I swear I’m fine.”

Luke, in a rare moment of knowledge and common sense, didn’t take her word for it. He seemed almost excited for her sickness – Julie wasn’t sure how to feel about that – and he pulled her into a tight hug.

“No,” he said firmly, “you’re sick. I’m going to take care of you.”

And he did. The very next thing Luke did was make Julie up a hot water bottle and bring it to her to help combat her chills, then he brought her three boxes of paracetamol and an entire pitcher of water. He called the doctor’s office for advice, then dragged the entire television set up to his and Julie’s room from downstairs. He got Rose ready for school and before he left the house he assured Julie that he would be back soon and she didn’t need to worry and, “If you need anything, just call me and I’ll come straight back.”

Julie couldn’t help but smile despite her tiredness and awful feeling. “I’ll be fine, Luke. Get Rose to school before she’s late.”

“I love you,” Luke said.

Rose, stood at the end of Julie’s bed, said, “Love you, Mama!”

“I love you, Rosie. Have a good day.”

Julie watched the love of her life and her perfect daughter leave the room and listened to their footsteps heading downstairs. Maybe she felt absolutely terrible and perhaps like she was going to be sick, but when she had someone like Luke looking after her it didn’t feel quite so dreadful.

[sunsetinmyvein]

You Better Keep Your Mouth Shut

A fic for someone other than Matty? Miraculous, I know. Thanks for adding some diversity to the mix @robinrunsfiction​ with your request from the prompt list. :P

Why were family events so awkward and stifled? Was it just a prerequisite of getting together with extended family that by default there had to be repeated pleasantries, uncomfortable questions and weird plus ones? Or was that just my family? Thanksgiving was never fun for this exact reason. The food was nice, but having to mentally prepare for at least three days prior for my aunt’s annoying speeches about what she had already accomplished by the time she was my age was not. But it was only once a year. I only had to grin and bear this for just twelve hours, once a year. I could do that. The best bit of this whole weird gathering was that my sister had decided she required a plus one this year. Apparently, she was fed up of the berating from our grandparents about when she was going to get a stable boyfriend, so she had dragged some poor outsider into this mess. However, that outsider happened to be someone that I already knew. Instead of choosing someone from her own social circle (she thought our parents might get suspicious if it was someone that they had already met), she chose someone from mine. Spencer was my best friend, and she had decided to “date” one of his good friends, Ryan.  

 It was pretty obvious that they weren’t actually dating. They were overdoing it. The constant hand holding, the sappy remarks, the sweet smiles - it was sickening. Anyone who was paying attention would be able to notice that all of this intimacy was entirely surface level. There were no stories about how they met, no retelling of funny dates, no actual kisses exchanged. My family seemed to buy it, but I wasn’t. I knew full well Spencer would’ve told me if Ryan started dating my sister. But it definitely gave the extended family something new to discuss and fuss over. I’d only met this guy a handful of times in passing over the years and he seemed fairly reserved from what I had seen. Spencer usually talked highly of him. But here he was, fake dating my sister and trying to charm a family that wasn’t his own. The whole charade was leaving a bitter taste. My family were shitty to deal with, sure, but it was still pretty underhanded to deceive them like this. I thought better of my sister than to pull a stunt like this, and I thought Spencer kept better friends than this, too. Apparently not.

  “What do you do for work, Ryan?” I heard my dad ask as I tuned back in to the dinner conversation.

“Yes, Ross. Enlighten us.” I chimed in, putting my phone down to hear his answer. I had been texting Spencer to ask if he knew about this or not (he didn’t), and to cross check what Ryan was saying. So far, everything he’d said tonight had been a lie. Where his family lived, what he was studying, he was painting the picture of a perfect boyfriend.

“Is there a reason you never say my first name?” He asked with a frown.

“Well, from the brief time that I’ve known you, I just don’t think that we’re familiar enough to be on a first name basis.” I answered with a fake smile.

“He’s your sister’s boyfriend!” My mother chastised.

“Well, he should act more like it then.” I muttered under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I quickly dismissed. “So?” I asked, turning back to Ryan.

  “I’m an intern at a law firm.” He absolutely was fucking not.

“Oh, that’s good!” My uncle beamed. “Must be lining you up for a good paying job?”

“Yeah, I hope so!” The dark-haired boy laughed nervously.

“What firm are you at?” Now this was going to be interesting.

“Uh…” His wide-eyed floundering made it clear that he hadn’t been prepared with details to support his lie. Thankfully, my sister quickly came to his aid and rattled off some firm that she had heard of. Good save.

“That’s a really good place. They’ll set you up well to take care my little niece here.” He said as he placed an affectionate hand on said niece’s shoulder.

“Only the best for my love.” Gross. I needed to get some air or I was going to throw up all my turkey from how soppy that was.

“I need a drink.” I sighed, excusing myself from the table.

  Sure enough, as soon as I started pouring something into my glass, Ryan walked into the kitchen too. I couldn’t even get one moment of peace this evening. Great. He wandered aimlessly around the room, opening a few cupboards before turning to me.

“Hey, where’s the-”

“You’re not in love with her, are you?” I interrupted.

“I, uh… Yeah, I am.” He tried his best to defend himself, while also vehemently avoiding my gaze.

“No, you’re not.” I said, shaking my head.

He cleared his throat and glanced at the doorway before speaking, “What makes you say that?”

“I know my sister well enough to see when she’s faking it.” I answered simply.

He let out a long sigh, looking torn about whether or not to admit it. “Look, could you just keep this between us?” He said eventually.

“Why would I? What’s in it for me?” I scoffed as I kept making my drink.

  “I dunno. I’ll give you fifty bucks or something.” He said with a shrug.

“You’re trying to bribe me for my silence?” I laughed loudly; Ryan quickly shushed me in response.

“No, I- ugh. What do you want?” He grumbled in frustration. “Can’t you just drop it?”

“Why are you even doing this?” I frowned, dodging his question. “Actually, never mind, do I even want to know?” I added as I placed the tonic water back in the fridge.

“I offered to do it as a favour when she suggested asking someone.” He replied, still looking around the kitchen for whatever he was after.

“You instigated this?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes. To help your sister out.” He said with a nod. Hm. I supposed maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all. “Got it!” He said, proudly holding a jar of relish as he left the kitchen.

  As expected, the silence was short lived. When Ryan left, my mother came in looking like she was on a mission.

“What’ve you got against that boy?” She asked in a stern tone as I poured the gin into my drink.

“I just don’t think he’s good for her, is all.” I answered vaguely.

“Why?” She interrogated. I shrugged, but apparently that answer wasn’t good enough. “Why?” She repeated.

“They don’t seem like they’ll be together long.” I tried my best to dodge her question. She stared at me for a long moment before deciding that was acceptable. And thankfully she dropped the topic before I spoke on it any further.

“Can you bring the pie in with you?” She asked sweetly as she grabbed a stack of dessert plates.

“Sure.” I mumbled as she walked out. Before I even moved to grab the pie, I poured myself a straight shot of the gin. I was going to need something strong to get through this evening.

  By the time I finally came back into the room, Ryan was in the middle of regaling some story to try and get my family to like him more. But it was only a matter of time before he put his foot in it. “I was at practice the other day-”

“Practice?” My dad asked in curiosity.

“Band-” He realised what he’d said as soon as the word left his lips. But he’d said it now, there was no taking it back. “Band practice, yeah.” He admitted sheepishly. I saw my uncle share a look with my dad over this new information. A junior lawyer in a band? They were right to be suspicious.

“You’re in a band?” My sister gawked. She didn’t even know he was in a band with Spencer! What, had they exchanged all of five sentences before tonight?

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I could put you on the guestlist one night, if you’d like?” He offered with a smile.

“I’d like that.” I piped up.

“Oh, I… Yeah… Okay.” He stumbled, looking like he hadn’t expected me to take him up on that. Maybe it was the gin going to my head, but I suspected maybe I could have a little fun with this to make tonight a bit more interesting.

  The drinks did indeed make things much easier. They also made a lot of this funnier. I watched Ryan and my sister fawning over each other during dessert, and it was no longer gross, now it was just humorous. After my dad cleared away the plates, they were exchanging romantic comments and staring at each other wistfully.

“Gosh, when’s that gonna happen for me?” I asked with a faux dreamy expression.

“Huh?” Ryan asked in confusion.

“When will I land myself a boyfriend like you?” I elaborated.

“Maybe if you had kept your last job you might’ve met someone there.” I heard my aunt say. But her passive aggressive comments weren’t going to sway me this time.

“It’s a shame Ryan isn’t single.” I pouted. Ryan choked on his drink as I said it, instantly spluttering all over the table. He excused himself and ducked to the bathroom, leaving me trying very hard to not break into hysterics. I suspected I hadn’t been too far off the mark when I picked him to be quite shy, because it seemed that legitimate flirting (not fake flirting) was something he couldn’t handle.

  It was pretty easy to carry on like that once I got the ball rolling. And by some stroke of dumb luck, my parents saw it as me warming up to Ryan rather than me messing with him. Whenever the night was nearing its end, I kicked Ryan’s shin under the table to catch his attention. He looked over at me with an exasperated expression, obviously fed up of having to tolerate my antics.

I leant in before speaking, making sure I had his full attention, “I really, really want to kiss you right now.” I said quietly.

His eyebrows shot up in shock, his mouth opening and closing a few times while he clearly tried to think of what to respond. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” He eventually settled on. I just shrugged. “Why would you want to?” He questioned.

“To start drama.” I chuckled.

“Do you do this stuff at all of your family events?” He asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Only the boring ones.” I grinned.

“Remind me to never help your sister out again.” He sighed as he turned back to the conversation happening on the other side of the table.

  My fun didn’t last too much longer after that. The sun had well and truly set, and people wanted to get home, which was my cue to leave. I wasn’t going to hang around here longer than I was obligated to. Once everyone had grabbed their leftovers and sorted themselves out, we were left with the awkward goodbyes on the driveway.

“It’s been a great evening.” I said, before grinning in Ryan’s direction.

“It’s been… an evening.” Ryan sighed.

“Aw, you didn’t have fun?” I asked with a laugh.

“Lovely to see you!” My uncle said, cutting my teasing off as he and my aunt exchanged their parting pleasantries.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime.” I said as I opened my car door. Ryan gave me a look like he’d sooner pass out before stepping foot into this house again.

[infinites-chaser]

today, this is the whole universe (and that’s okay) | mlqc | gavin/mc | domestic fluff

Gavin and MC spend a sleepy Sunday together.

The first rays of warm, buttery dawn light are  barely brushing the edges of the half-open blinds when Gavin stirs, eyes blinking open, mouth stretching wide in a quiet yawn, MC still fast  asleep in his arms, her hair like a soft silk blanket across his chest. Carefully, trying his best to not disturb her, he reaches over her head  to grab at the top of the nightstand, where both their phones sit,  charging, hers quiet, his buzzing softly but insistently with his morning alarm.

With an easy, practiced swipe, he silences it, placing it next to hers once more. He brings his hand back to caress her cheek, then begins the slow process of freeing his body by gently shifting her onto the bed itself. At his touch, she murmurs something. Soft and unintelligible as it is, it still manages to bring a small  smile to his face.

For a moment, he lets himself lie there, thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbones, the edge of her lips, lets the warm rise and fall of her chest and the beat of her heart in time with  his complete him— she's the only peace he’ll ever want, the only peace  he thinks he’ll ever need.

Another alarm sets his phone off, and the moment’s over. But as he reaches to silence his phone again, MC stirs, turning her head just the slightest so her lips brush the tip of his thumb.

“What time is it?” comes her sleepy mumble.

“Just past five.”

He  lets his phone fall back onto the nightstand, pulls her close as she wriggles around in his arms to bring her face to his, their noses a breath apart.

“I was about to go on my morning run,” he explains. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. The sun did.”

As  she shakes her head, their noses bump. He laughs, and feels the gentle  tremor of her laughter, too: warmth and light given voice, given music.  He presses a kiss to her forehead and she smiles, eyes curling into little half-moons, then slipping closed.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, stifling another laugh. “You had a late night.”

“Did not.”

Her eyes are still closed, but she’s grinning. He scoffs.

“Did too.”

He’s expecting another, more indignant did not, but a long minute passes, and her breathing evens out, the grin on her face softening to a gentle smile as her head pillows in the crook of his arm.

Good, he thinks, even as he’s trapped by her again. She needs the sleep more than he needs to run.

She’d been up past midnight the night before, despite it being a weekend— the company had wrapped shooting for the next installment of City News late Friday night, but Minor, who was slated to edit the footage, had come down with a cold, and she’d volunteered to do it instead. Twenty-five hours and many a frustrated moment later, she’d finished, with Gavin doing his best to support and not hover the whole while (Though in his defense, even if he hadn’t actually had a case report to work on at the table, too, she’d appreciated the constant supply of coffee he’d provided her, and had eaten the meals he’d tried to make for her).

He’d chastise her for it, a short, well-intentioned lecture about how she really should consider herself and her own health before taking on even  more work and responsibilities, but he’s sure the same could be said  about him, too. And, exhausted as she may be, he knows she’d have been equally stressed had the work gone to someone else, and now she’s  finished, and satisfied with the work she’s done, so really, more than  anything else, he’s proud of her.

Now she has all of Sunday to rest— and even if it means sleeping half the morning away, he’s glad to  be with her while she does it.

The sound of her breathing, slow and even, lulls him back into a light sleep until seven am, when the summer sunlight streaming in through the blinds is blanketing the  bottom half of the bed, too bright for him to ignore. He drops a kiss on  the top of MC’s hair before carefully sliding out from under her, and  this time she’s sleeping so deeply that she doesn’t stir, not even when he settles her head atop a pillow, and pulls the sheets a little more tightly around her to make up for his absent warmth.

Despite how  bright it is outside— too bright, and therefore too hot, he decides, for  a run— the kitchen floor’s cool under his feet, even through the soles of his slippers.

Hot coffee it is, he thinks, filling  up the well-used coffee machine, then poking around in the pantry for  the jar of grounds, only to find it’s nearly empty. There’s enough  coffee for two more cups, maybe three, but he makes a mental note to buy  more the next time they’re out shopping.

While the coffee brews, he crosses the kitchen to open the fridge, then frowns at its contents. Shopping will have to be soon, there’s not much left in it, either, but  for now, it’ll do.

The coffee machine beeps, satisfied after filling the first mug to the brim. He takes it, though the first cup’s  normally for MC, gulps down a few sips with a grimace, then stirs in two sugars— it’s how she likes hers, he’s used to taking his black, but it seems her sweet tooth’s contagious.

In the time it takes her to finally wake up, he manages to prepare brunch with whatever’s left in the fridge. The cornerstone, of course, is the coffee, in the second of their matching mugs, as sweet as she likes it, two sugars, no milk. There’s a blueberry muffin he leaves her, and he fries up a couple  of eggs, puts them on some toast with butter and jam as options for spreads, then adds the last of the strawberries, tries to make the whole thing presentable, or at the very least, vaguely cute, if only because it’ll put the brightest smile on her face when she sees it.

It  does— her sleepy eyes widen as she first takes the sight of the laden tray in, then comprehension lights her whole face up, and her lips stretch into a still-tired, but broad grin.

“Gavin,” she protests even as he slides back into bed next to her, stealing a kiss, “you shouldn’t have!”

He smiles, tapping the rim of his mug to hers as she takes a big sip, then sighs, content.

“It’s only because you went to sleep so late last night. I had to.”

“It wasn’t that late! And it’s only because it was a lot of work that I didn’t wake up ‘til now.”

‘Wasn’t that late’ is two am and ‘now’ is one pm, and he points both out with a chuckle. She pouts, hiding behind another sip of coffee.

“I’ll go to sleep earlier from now on!” She vows.

“How early?”

“Um, one am?”

“That’s not early enough.”

He flicks her forehead and frowns, but she only laughs.

Despite his worry and gentle admonition, though, he can’t say he minds this at all: a weekend afternoon spent in bed, no deadlines or stress to think  of, just her smile, her warm laugh and the bright summer sun in the  window, a universe they’ve created between the folds of the covers, a universe of breakfast smells, soft pillows, and coffee, a universe just for them.

Dinner, a few lazy hours later, is takeout oden hotpot. His excuse is that there’s nothing left in the fridge, and possibly, also the fact that he’s uncertain his cooking skills are  passable enough for a good Sunday dinner, but he’ll take any reason to  treat MC to her favorite, so he does.

Her eyes flick from the familiar logo on the takeout bag up to his when he sets it on the kitchen table. He can read the ‘Gavin, you shouldn’t have,’ in them a heartbeat before she says the words.

“Eat  up while it’s still hot,” is his only reply, and with a smile, he hands her a pair of disposable chopsticks after breaking them apart with a small snap. She looks from him to the steaming pot of food. When he doesn’t move, she picks up a fish cake and a piece of vegetable, and holds it out to him with an answering smile.

“You first. You really like the fish cakes from here, right?”

He nods, fighting another smile and the smallest blush, then takes the bite, gesturing for her to eat, too, as he chews and swallows.

While she’s busy filling her own bowl, he takes his own chopsticks and picks out a few choice pieces, then holds his first bite out to her, too. She takes it without protest, but then tries to give her second bite to him, and he counters by trying to give her both his second and his third—

The hotpot’s finished, in that manner, within the next hour and a half. When the pot’s full of only broth, they take a look at each other, then MC begins to laugh.

“My stomach’s stuffed— are you prepared to take responsibility for this crime, Officer Gavin?” she manages, between laughs, trying and failing to put on a pitiful expression as she rubs her belly.

“Only if you start eating proper meals regularly,” he replies after a heartbeat, clearing his throat, and she huffs, but there’s a matching spark of amusement in both their eyes.

They wash the dishes from the day together, MC with the sponge, Gavin behind her, his arms not quite around her, taking each dish and drying it with a towel before putting it to rest on the dish rack. Once the last bowl is scrubbed and shining, nestled firmly in place, they settle together in a comfortable tangle of limbs on the couch.

It’s a gentle sort of quiet for all of five minutes before someone tickles the other— Gavin’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him— and it turns into a full-scale tickle war.

He gets in a few good ones, her breathless laughter mingling with his,  warm and loud and bright, but then her elbow slips, (“it wasn’t on purpose!” she claims later) devious, into his gut.

“Do you surrender?” she asks, perched atop his chest, mischievous glint in her  eyes. He starts to raise his arms, thinks better of it, then settles for a resigned nod.

“You got me,” he replies, then smiles when she leans in to brush her lips against his.

He doesn’t use the opportunity to tickle her again— he’s far more mature than that. He doesn’t.

And if they collapse into giddy giggles later, sides aching, breath spent, the couch pillows strewn across the plush white carpet, the coffee table askew, well, that's both their faults, not just his.

The sun’s long since slipped below the horizon by the time they’ve cleaned up the living room and taken a seat again, tired out. The room's wide windows give them both a glimpse into an otherworldly dimension, one made of night and stars and the soft glow of city lights far below, a universe at their feet, though the only one he cares about is right beside him, chin on his shoulder, the rest of her stretched out on the  sofa while he sits on the floor.

“Play something for me?” she murmurs into his ear as he fiddles with his guitar, the two of them illuminated by the glow of his lamp of stars and the moonlight.

He  lets his fingers dance across the guitar strings until it turns into  music, a soft, warm melody that somehow tugs on the edges of his memory though he’s sure he’s never played it before in his life, and he’s humming along before he even realizes it, the notes familiar, nostalgic, like coming home.

MC’s head tips up, eyes wide, and his fingers slip from the strings. The music stops.

“Play that again?”

He  nods, obliges instinctively, and there’s the melody again, chords like  his life given new meaning, breathed alive in the spaces between the  start of one note and the end of another, slow and quiet at first, then  building, gently lingering.

“Do you know the song?” he asks. “It feels familiar, somehow—”

His voice trails off. The words, once spoken aloud, seem almost silly. It’s more than familiar, it’s something deep, significant, more than he could ever put into words.

She shakes her head with a slight frown. At her silence, he picks through the notes again, humming them, memorizing their sound, their shape, their feel until the snippet’s over again, fading, a song left unfinished, perhaps because its (his, their) story hasn’t yet come to an end.

“I think I’ve heard it before,” she says at last with a small, wistful smile, then leans over the guitar to press a kiss to his lips. Reflected in her eyes, he fancies, is not just the lamplight, but the light of  all the universe, a hundred galaxies, a thousand stars.

“Maybe it was in a dream.”

[stuckonjbbarnes]

Time {One-Shot}

A/N:This is for @sunmoonandbucky’s 5K Challenge. I had no idea what to do with this song...but I love the way it turned out. Congrats on all the followers babes, you deserve every last one of them! Pairing: Platonic!Bucky x Reader, mention of Sam x Reader Warnings: Soft Angst, Jealousy, Broken Plates

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I don't know you but I want you all the more for that." A soft voice fills the cafe, pulling Bucky from his thoughts behind the counter. He knew from the moment they hired you that you were special, he just never knew how special you'd become to him.  1 Year 4 Months Earlier- You came in with your head in a book, waiting to meet the owners after calling about the Help Wanted Sign. At the table you looked from sparkling soft blue eyes into sharp green ones, already cutting into you. But you were quiet and polite and when the two slipped away for a brief meeting, you took the opportunity to continue reading a chapter that had you on the edge of your seat.  Less than twenty minutes later, the pair had hired you.

"Words fall through me and always fool me and I can't react." The out-of-tune piano sounds almost melodic, accompanying Y/N's voice. He remembers that she asked to take a lunch break but he hadn't expected her to stay in the cafe. Listening to her play the only song she really seemed to know, he took in the peaceful atmosphere. Most of the guests were sipping drinks quietly or swaying to the crooning barista. 12 Months Earlier- While you tried your hardest to befriend both owners, Bucky was much more approachable. When you couldn't get the cash register to work, he was the one to show you the trick to making the till open. Someone jammed the espresso machine? Bucky made sure to help you clear it out and he was patient, so patient while you got your bearings in the little cafe. Dot on the other hand was never around and when she was, she would make more messes than actually help out. In just about five months since you started full-time, you could happily say that you and Bucky were friends. Too many times to count, you'd bring him a new baked good to try and a day later, find a book waiting for you. Bucky was good with recommending his favorites and either offering you his copy on loan or buying you a copy outright. He even went so far as to introduce you to his best friend Sam, another book nerd.

"And games that never amount to more than they’re meant will play themselves out."  "That's $9.75 out of $10." Bucky smiles, handing over a quarter and a coffee to the guest. He's only half focused on putting the change in the drawer and chastises himself, when he nearly burns his hand trying to heat up the sandwich his guest ordered. But he was busy. Busy listening to Y/N's soothing voice and wondering just when he started feeling butterflies while looking at her. 10.5 Months Earlier- "It's been a long night." You smiled, finally flipping the sign over to CLOSED. Bucky was counting the register and offered a tired nod without looking up. "Do you want me to make something? I know you didn't take your break." Bucky finally asked, when you finished wiping the tables down and stacking chairs. "I should be making you something." You offered him a small smile, "You saved my ass during that rush." "I needed to come in and do paperwork anyways." He had chuckled. "How about we cook together?" You got him to agree and the two of you had sifted through leftover ingredients in the fridges making some sort of flatbread pizza. "I thought that old lady in the pink was going to lose it when you said we ran out of snickerdoodles." You had laughed, remembering how the old lady had practically turned into a tomato and demanded compensation, which didn't make sense because she didn't buy anything. "People love your cookies, Y/N. Which is why...I want you to keep making them so that we can keep selling them." "I..." "As your boss, I'm telling you that I love those cookies. How can you say no to this face?" He had asked pouting and your heart had fluttered and your widening grin had begun to hurt. That was until Dot showed up and your smile had all but disappeared as she took hold of Bucky's face and practically shoved her tongue down his throat.

"Take this sinking boat and point it home, we've still got time." Bucky really had tried his best to just be friends and a good boss. After all, Dot was nothing but good to him. But there was just something about Y/N. He couldn't keep himself away, as much as he really wanted to. Helping a few more customers, he gestures another barista over to the register, with the intent to restock the baked goods in the display case. But again, like a siren, he's caught in the music. 7 Months Earlier- After that awkward ending to a reasonably nice dinner, you had tried to pretty much keep to yourself. But Bucky wouldn't let you. "Hey! Book Nerd! Quit reading and come talk to me about it." He'd yell on your breaks. You obliged every time, happy to keep him as a friend. Happy to be there, even though he had the perfect girlfriend and the perfect bakery and the perfect life. You figured you could find that eventually, even taking time to hang out with his friend Sam more. Bonding over shared literature tastes and matching affinities for coffee.

"Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice, you've made it now." It wasn't until Quinn said "Yo...Bucky? You gonna restock the cookies or stare a hole into Y/N for the rest of the day?" that Bucky snapped out of his thoughts. "Shut up, you dick." He rolls his eyes, earning a laugh from the younger man. "You think she's into the creepy staring types? Maybe I'll have to start staring too." "Quinn, if you don't shut up, you're fired." "Okay, okay...I'll restock then. You take the register." The barista stalks into the back, pushing along a cart. 5.5 Months Earlier- Then it stopped. Bucky stopped recommending books. He stopped asking you to come talk to him, leaving you to read your books in silence. He stopped asking you to bake for the cafe. And then he stopped working his usual shifts with you. More often than not, you had been working alone. Toughing out the nights that got overly busy because of college students, in need of a caffeine and sugar high. You toughed it out. This had been the best job and the easiest to maintain, while going to school yourself. You couldn't really be mad that your boss had stopped showing signs of friendship, he was your boss.

"Falling slowly, eyes that know me and I can't go back." With nothing better to do, Bucky finds himself walking around the tables, picking up people’s discarded cups and wiping tables. He's unintentionally humming along with Y/N and she sends him a wink, causing all the butterflies in his stomach to flutter. He smiles at her and she goes back to playing, no longer holding him in her bubble of warmth. 4 Months Earlier- You were just finishing up cleaning the kitchen for the night when you heard shouting from the front. A loud crash filled your ears before you could clear the doorway and step out into the storefront. You watched Dot storm to through the front door and she turned to shoot you a daggered glare. You were about to turn back to the kitchen, when you saw Bucky on his knees, picking up the remnants of the plate that had once held your snickerdoodle cookies.

"And moods that take me and erase me and I'm painted black. Well, you have suffered enough and warred with yourself...It's time that you won." Bucky's focus on the butterflies quickly vanish when he notices a line that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The lunch rush... He sighs and quickly takes his spot behind the register and when Y/N tilts her head in question of needing help, Bucky is quick to wave her off, only wanting her to continue the song. Still 4 Months Earlier-"Hey, don't." You chided him, after grabbing the nearby broom. "I can do it!" He had snapped but you had ignored him, playfully kicking until he moved. After sweeping up every last splinter and cookie crumble, the two of you headed back into the kitchen. Noticing blood on his hands, you had taken him by his arm and pulled him to the sink. "I could've gotten it." He mumbles. "Yeah and cut your hands even more. Don't be an idiot." You had carefully run water over his hands, knowing full-well that he could've done it on his own. Satisfied that the small cuts would only require a bandaid and having gotten out the first aid kit, you let Bucky do the rest. "Thank you." He had said in a much softer tone, the anger all but vanished. You had just smiled lightly and began pulling out more ingredients. "What are you doing?" "Baking." "Why?" He had asked and you had laughed lightly. "You need fresh snickerdoodles, nurses orders." It hadn't taken long to mix up a batch and while they baked, you had made quick work of the dishes while Bucky wiped the counters down again. “This is none of my business, so feel free to tell me off or fire me or whatever. But I need to say it." You had stumbled over your words, having his full attention without realizing it. "Tell me." He asked, taking the cookies out once the oven chimed. "I just think that sometimes business partners don't make good love partners. You can have a good relationship or a good business but rarely both." You had shrugged and waited for him to yell. But he had taken a cookie, most likely burning himself in the process, and saluted you with it before digging in.

"Take this sinking boat and point it home, We've still got time." "Yo Bucky, my man. Can I clock out now?" Quinn asks, coming back out from the kitchen. "Let me check your drawer." Bucky sighs, taken away from Y/N and her song yet again. "You ever gonna make a move?" Quinn asks, having been at the cafe just over 3 months and understood the dynamic far better than he should've, in Bucky's opinion. "When the time is right." Bucky mutters, double checking his math and giving Quinn the thumbs up to leave. He watches Quinn wave at Y/N and her nod in turn, still expertly tapping on the keys. 2 Months Ago- "Just take it before I change my mind." Dot was exasperated, you could hear it when you stepped into the cafe for the evening shift. "Why are you throwing your half of this business back at me?" Bucky had asked, voice raising a couple decibels. " I'm not going to stay here and be unhappy. I won't be unhappy." She had snarled, throwing something...a ring? "Zemo is taking me to Paris! I don't need you or this rundown cafe." You could see from the look on Bucky's face he had been partially relieved and partially shaken by her words. Doing what you did best, you went into the bakery display and took a brownie, warming it. Pouring two glasses of milk and scooping up two spoons, you had guided Bucky to a table in the back and sat across from him, splitting the dessert. "I'm here if you need anything." You offered once he had taken a few bites and had some milk. "I think I'm going to need a manager." He groaned and you watched the gears turn in his head. "I'll do my best." Was all you had said before starting your shift.

"Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice. You've made it now. Falling slowly, sing your melody... I'll sing it loud." Bucky knows the song is coming to its end, having practically memorized it. Today's the day he decides, just after Quinn takes off. He checks the kitchen and wipes down the front counter, listening and humming again. When he looks up, he thinks he notices Y/N look away but Bucky can't be sure. As soon as the song ends he mentally notes; That's when he'll take my chance. 3 Weeks Ago- The vacation you had put in for, was extremely needed. You had spent the last month and a half pretty much acting as the general manager of the cafe. The work was tiring but you had promised to try and you were doing pretty okay at it. But three weeks of sun and sand had been just what the doctor ordered. Not only that but it had been a chance to spend time with a friend and catch up on the list of books you hadn't gotten around to. You were sure Bucky and Quinn would be great on their own; your special guys.

"Take it all...I played the cards too late. Now it's gone." Just as Bucky is about to cross over to the piano, he spots his best friend Sam. But before he can even call to his friend, he's making a bee-line for Y/N. Bucky watches Y/N jump up and he freezes as Sam wraps his arm around he waist and pulls her into a hug, kissing her temple. Y/N pulls away, face brighter than Bucky had ever seen it and then she's looking at him. He pastes on a quick smile and he barely hears when she says  "I'm gonna go get food." Bucky manages to wave  and stares as the two giggle and make doe-eyes at each other, his shoulders fall only when they're out of sight. Present- It's fairly new but Sam is wonderful and after a 3 week vacation together, you're determined that he could be everything for you. You know Bucky is single but you also know that he could have anyone; any supermodel that popped in from Soho. It isn't worth the heartbreak of letting him know your feelings. Plus, Sam is kind and he's smart and he likes you. There's nothing to worry about with him and you're sure your feelings for Bucky will disappear...it's only a matter of time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Permanent Taglist:@bitchassbucky @mermaidxatxheart​ @sebbbystaaan​ @valkyriesryde​ @stibbsx​ @donnaintx​ @geeksareunique​ @mypassionsarenysins​ @morsmordrethings​ @my-drowning-in-time​ @mushyjellybeans​ @honeyvbarnes​ @stateoflovinged​ @chloerinebarnes​ @captain-kelli​ @babblingbonky​ @pinknerdpanda​ @supernaturaldean67​

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 132

Chapter Summary -  https://wolfpawn.tumblr.com/post/620199649447428096/i-hate-you-i-love-you-chapter-131

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​​ @nonsensicalobsessions​​ @damalseer​​ @hiddlesbitch1​​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​​ @salempoe​​ @wolfsmom1

‘Hello.’ Diana walked towards her with her arms outstretched, Poppy bounding towards them in excitement with her.

‘’Hey, Mum.’ Tom beamed as he embraced her, Danielle walking to the back of the car to let out the dogs, Poppy sniffing frantically at the boot, seemingly knowing there was company inside.

When Danielle opened the boot, Poppy jumped in, immediately sniffing the two dogs inside, Mac becoming intrigued, Bobby becoming almost as excited, sniffing and wagging his tail at her. ‘One moment, Looper.’ Danielle chastised as she untied Mac, who jumped out of the car, Poppy following, the pair sniffing each other meticulously. Bobby, on the other hand, looked utterly disgusted that he had been forgotten and gave an indignant “yip” at being left behind. It was only when he sat down did Danielle unclip his harness, the pup leaping out of the car and landing gracelessly nearby, before righting himself and rushing over to join the others. ‘Idiot.’ Danielle shook her head as she laughed. ‘Hel...Oof!’ Diana squeezed her tightly. ‘How are you?’

‘All the better for seeing the two of you, how long are you staying?’

‘Until after New Years.’ Diana turned to look at her son, then to Danielle in shock. ‘We’re taking some time here.’

‘Are….Really?’ It was clear how Diana felt at their news.

‘Yes. I have a tonne of paperwork and whatnot, Tom has things to do and we just decided, it’d be nice to be here. We are talking about moving out of the city, so why not enjoy the time we can be out of it?’

‘So you are going to be here?’

‘Yeah, you’re stuck with us.’ Diana merely crushed Danielle in against her again. ‘Help. Me.’ She looked at Tom who was too busy chuckling. ‘I need tea.’

Immediately Diana pulled back, ‘Yes, we all do, come on.’ She turned towards the house.

‘You’re useless,’ she swatted Tom’s arm. ‘She was choking me and all you did was chuckle. I had to convince her of tea to get away.’

‘Wait, you planned that?’

‘Obviously.’ She smiled at him as she walked over to the car again. ‘I will take the food out of the car and put in the fridge, I am not wasting dinner. You make sure those two actually go to the bathroom.’

‘Yes, dear.’ Tom grinned, his tongue sticking between his teeth.

‘’Eejit.’ She laughed as she got the food sorted.

Danielle smiled as she entered the house, she had a woman come and keep it clean every two weeks in her absence and had Diana check on it, but it was clear that it was not the lived-in home it once was. She thought to herself for a moment before putting the food where it needed to go and heading over to Diana’s. When she arrived, she watched as Poppy defended her bed from the two males possessively.

‘She’s showing how spoiled she is.’ Tom commented as he gave Danielle her tea.

‘Well, it must be tough for her, she is used to herself now.’

‘You are not like that.’

‘I am also not a five-month-old Spaniel.’ She countered with a laugh. ‘So, what is the news here?’ She asked as she sat down across from Diana.

*

‘It’s almost weird being here.’ Tom smiled as they readied for bed.

‘Good or bad?’

‘Good, great.’ He smiled. ‘I miss it, the quiet, the space.’

‘The privacy?’

Tom’s face became stern. Ever since people seemed to realise where they walked the dogs, more and more “casual” encounters with fans were becoming far more common and it was becoming less pleasant to walk their pets, so to have a ten-day stint where they would have little or no interruption sounded good. ‘Definitely.’

‘I was thinking earlier,’ He gave a small nod of attention. ‘I was thinking that maybe I should consider selling this place.’ Tom frowned immediately and folded his arms. ‘I am never here, I could actually put something into a house with you and…you don’t think it’s a good idea?’

‘Honestly, no. I like this, I like that we have this house here next to mum’s, that we have enough space that if we are all home, no one is crushed and even if it is just us, we still have space to step back and have privacy, that if we decide to be intimate, we don’t have to worry about my mum hearing us, or walking in….again.’ He explained. ‘If you want to sell, I cannot stop you, but I wouldn’t like you to.’

‘But I…’

‘I know what you are saying, you don’t like the waste of a good home, but when Emma has her baby, if we are all home, and maybe down the road…’

‘We wouldn’t all fit there, especially if she or Sarah has more too.’ Danielle nodded. ‘Not to mention, if we…’

‘Is there a reason financially for you to sell?’

‘I just feel, with us looking at homes…’

‘We talked about this.’ Tom sighed. ‘So much so you calculated how much of your income is needed and what collateral you have. Whatever we buy, it will be something we can afford, together.’

Danielle inhaled deeply. ‘I just don’t…..’

‘You are so proud and independent, and I adore that about you, you want to pay your way, you need me to let you be you, but I do not feel it is the best idea here.’ Danielle looked unsure. ‘How long have you been thinking like this?’

‘Since earlier.’

‘Well, I know you are not a rash person, take some time to think about it.’ He kissed her temple.

‘But you are a “no”?’ She looked at him, the look on his face giving his answer. ‘Okay.’

‘You didn’t even wait for me to answer.’

‘I don’t need to, I can see it on your face. It makes sense, especially in the future.’ She turned and got some nightwear.

‘Are you upset?’ Tom asked. ‘I just wanted to be honest.’

Danielle laughed quietly. ‘Not at all, I would not talk to you about it if I did not want your true opinion. I wanted to ask you because I feel it affects you too. It was an idea toying in my head that I did not know why it was there.’

Tom smiled in return. ‘What is your gut on it, you tend to feel that is a way to judge?’

‘I don't get a buzz from it, besides, I didn’t ask you to get my opinion.’ She stuck out her tongue before wrapping her arms around him. ‘I wanted your thoughts, I wanted your opinion.’

‘We are so domestic.’ He grinned, kissing her.

‘So domestic.’

*

Danielle stretched against as she left the bathroom and made her way back to the bed, Tom still snoring lightly as she did. She smiled as she thought of their discussion the night before, how Tom seemed to have appreciated her asking his input, which she thought only natural, considering that he had done the same with her in London. As she looked at him, she smiled, recalling his comments, how he suggested that in the future, how if Emma or Sarah had more kids, or even…she bit her lips together. Talking about children always made her feel odd, she felt it was something that never really mattered to her or marriage but in the future, if the timing was right, she felt that "maybe" could become a "when", for Tom. she thought of Nacelles question and was forced to admit, yes, if Tom asked her, so long as he was not expecting a next week wedding, she would want to marry him. She truly wanted it all with him.

[atc74]

Watching You - The Epilogue

Square(s) Filled: Michael for @heavenandhellbingo, Character Death for @spngenrebingo

Warnings: Fluff, drinking, a wedding, angst, more angst and some more angst. Major character death

Summary: Almost a year has passed since Y/N learned that her boyfriend’s brother was her stalker. With time comes healing and Y/N and Sam are ready to take the next step. But is anything ever really over?

Pairing:  Coach/Teacher!Sam x Coach!Reader

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Michael Shurley, Dean Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer, Jody Mills, Alex Jones, Rufus Turner, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle (mentioned), Donna Hanscum

Word Count: 6025 (I apologize for nothing)

Written for: @heavenandhellbingo and @spngenrebingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​ with whom I have realized I have an abusive and co-dependent relationship with. As my beta, she makes me a better writer and in turn, I punch her right in the feels but she still loves me, and for this I am forever grateful and love her back. (No, I am not making light of abusive relationships, having been in one, it’s an analogy people).  And to @alleiradayne, for her unwavering support.

A/N: This is the third and FINAL (yes, final) installment of Watching You (CATCH UP NOW). I wasn’t completely satisfied with the original ending. Although I am very proud of it, I just felt it was lacking some finality and @amanda-teaches convinced me to finish it to my liking, because every once in a great while, I crave giving you guys something that is very much ‘not me’ and drawing a new emotion from you is my oxygen! I hope you like it, too!

Looking for the next level fan experience? Check out Sam’s or Dean’s scent now! Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Y/N sat in her office. It was a quiet Friday at the school, for once, and she was taking advantage of the peace. Sam was at a Cross Country meet and wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours, so she had time to prepare for their next volleyball game. 

The first month or two of her relationship with Sam had its ups and downs, especially when it turned out his brother was her stalker and intended to kill her because he believed he would lose Sam to her. Things between her and Sam had been a little touch and go immediately following Dean’s confession. But since the trial, it had been smooth sailing and she had never been happier.

She decided to call it an early day to get home before Sam and needed to make a few stops on her way home. 

Her phone rang as she was loading groceries into her car. “Hello, Handsome.” 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Sam drawled on the other end. “Whatchya up to?” 

“Just leaving the market and heading home. How was the meet?” She smiled, hearing the mischief in his voice. 

“Great! Katie and Josh both finished first!” He exclaimed. “I’m on my way home and I want to celebrate!” 

“I can get on board with that!” she agreed. “See you there.” 

“Bye, beautiful.”

~*~

“So, what’s the occasion?” Y/N asked over a simple dinner of steak and potatoes later that night. 

“Well, my kids won today. Your girls are going to win on Monday,” he explained, pausing. “And, it has been exactly one year since our first date.” 

“Sam,” she gasped. “You remembered?” 

“How could I forget? The most incredible, stunning creature asked out this awkward giant after he admitted he was horrible with the ladies,” Sam smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. 

“Stop,” she giggled, allowing him to pull her up and into his arms. 

“I know our first few months were a little tumultuous, to say the least, but we’re healing, and I have never been happier. Coming home to you each night is the greatest thing in the world,” Sam proclaimed. “If only you could make my next dream come true...” 

Y/N was a sap for Sam and she fell right into his trap. “Baby, I always want to make your dreams come true.” 

“Then marry me,” Sam stated. He held up an impressive antique style solitaire diamond ring. 

Y/N could see he was nervous as the ring shook in his hand, sending prisms sparkling along their dining room walls. She understood how he felt, her own stomach had erupted in a swarm of butterflies. She held out her hand to him. “Yes.”

Sam slipped the gemstone on her finger. 

“Sam, it’s gorgeous,” she whispered.

“Nothing will ever be as beautiful as you are. I promise to always protect you,” he vowed, pulling her in, brushing his lips over hers. The kiss started much like their first, sweet and a little shy, both of them thinking about their future together. But, much like the last year, it quickly morphed into something solid and heated. 

Sam lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, as he carried her to the living room, laying her gently on the sofa. Clothing was stripped and tossed away to be worried about later. Promises of what was to come mingled with their moans and heavy breath. Promises of a family and a future. 

“We should call Bobby and Jody,” she remarked later that evening, Sam wrapped around her from behind, her favorite blanket concealing their nudity. 

“There’s plenty of time for that,” Sam said. “Do you want to set a date first?” 

“As soon as we can,” she chirped, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. 

“A wedding takes planning, Y/N.” 

“No, an event takes planning, Sam. Bobby, Jody and Alex are basically the only family we have. We have a few friends from work, but that’s about it. We could set this up inside a month,” she insisted. 

“Are you pregnant?” Sam blurted out. 

“What? No!” She laughed. “But I don’t want to wait, Sam. Besides, the sooner you make an honest woman out of me, the sooner I can be.” 

“Well, I do think I’ll like that,” Sam moaned in her ear. 

“Later, Romeo. Let’s start making a list and maybe we can knock out a few tasks tomorrow,” she insisted. “But we’re telling Bobby and Jody in the morning.” 

“Fine, but we’re going for a run first thing, then you’re making breakfast,” Sam teased. 

“How about loser makes breakfast?” she taunted.

“I’ll take that bet,” Sam grabbed her, crashing his lips to hers to seal the deal. 

~*~

“A Winchester shows up at my door with a pretty girl and a bag of pastries…” Bobby grumbled. “It sounds like the start of a really bad joke.” 

“How about a pretty girl shows up at your door with a bag of pastries and a Winchester?” Y/N laughed as she hugged Bobby. 

“I like that a lot better,” he replied. “So what do I owe the pleasure so early on a Saturday?”

“Bobby, it’s almost noon,” Sam chastised. 

“And some of us ain’t getting any younger. Plus, I had a job last night,” Bobby yawned, pouring another coffee for himself, plus two for Y/N and Sam. 

“We wanted to ask you something. Well, two somethings,” Y/N started. “Where’s Jody?”

“Right here, honey,” Jody turned the corner, a smile on her face seeing the two of them in her kitchen. “What’s up?” 

“Sam and I are getting married!” Y/N squealed, holding her hand out to show them her ring. 

Jody hugged Y/N tightly, so happy for her young friend. Bobby smacked Sam in the back of the head. “Don’t screw it up, ya idjit.” 

“I won’t, Bobby,” Sam promised, gazing over at his soon to be wife, a smile splitting his face. 

“I wanted to ask if we could hold the wedding in your yard? Jody, your gardens are so beautiful and I couldn’t imagine starting the rest of my life with Sam anywhere else,” Y/N explained, her smile hopeful. 

“Of course you can,” Jody agreed. “I’d be honored.” 

“And, Bobby?” Y/N turned to face the man she had come to admire and love over the last several months. “Would you give me away?” 

“It would be my pleasure, girl,” Bobby smiled for once. “Now come ‘ere.” He stood and wrapped his arms tightly around the girl he had come to love as if she were his own. 

“So, did you set a date yet?” Jody asked.

“September 28,” Y/N replied quietly, turning to Sam. 

“We’ve got a whole year to get the planning done,” Jody started rambling. “Bobby, we can finally add that gazebo and koi pond I’ve wanted…” Jody pondered aloud, taking a sip of coffee. 

“September 28 this year, Jody.”  

Jody nearly choked, coffee sputtering from her mouth as she coughed. “What?!” 

“I’m so sorry!” Y/N stood to grab a towel. 

“That’s in three weeks!” Bobby hollered. 

“Yes, it is. But we talked a lot about this last night. It’s going to be a small affair, less than twenty people. We can easily throw together everything quickly, and we already met with a caterer that can make it work,” Y/N reasoned. 

“”Well, then, let’s go take a look and see what y’all wanna do,” Bobby suggested. 

After walking around the house and yard, Y/N had decided where to set up the altar and, with Jody’s help, the tables and chairs for the reception. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” Alex’s voice carried through the backyard. 

“We’re getting married!” Y/N shouted. Alex ran towards her, hugging her tightly as the women jumped up and down together in the yard. 

“Fools,” Bobby gumbled. 

“I think it’s adorable,” Sam smiled, looking at his fiancee and friend. 

“Yeah, but you’re in love with one of ‘em. I gotta live with the other one,” Bobby clucked.

The girls left to go dress shopping leaving Sam and Bobby to their own devices.

“What’s on your mind, boy?” Bobby asked. 

“You could always read me like a book, Bobby.” Sam laughed. “I got this idea, but I might need your help.” 

“Well, let’s take a look at this idea of yours then,” Bobby stood and walked toward his pole barn. He stopped by an ancient fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to Sam. “Something tells me I’m gonna need this.” 

~*~

Tables had been set up and a dance floor had been constructed in Bobby and Jody’s backyard. From the bedroom window, it looked like a fairy party. Y/N had decided to stay with Bobby and Jody the night before the wedding and Sam would remain at home. She couldn’t wait to marry him. Turning down the bed, she crawled in before calling him to say goodnight, even though they had only parted less than an hour before. She had barely said goodbye before she fell asleep, dreaming of her future with Sam. 

~*~

The smell of coffee and bacon woke her the next morning. Stretching long in her bed, Y/N threw the covers aside and shuffled to the bathroom. She exited a few minutes later, hair in a mess atop her head, and followed her nose to the kitchen. 

“Happy wedding day!” Jody greeted her excitedly with a steaming mug. “Have a seat, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Thanks Jody,” she smiled back at the woman she had grown so fond of over the last year. “Flowers should be here by eleven and the food and cakes about four.” 

“Girl, don’t you worry. I got this handled. Your only job is to get all pretty and show up on time,” Bobby grinned ear to ear at her over his coffee.

“I really can’t thank you guys enough. For, well, everything.” Y/N gave them both knowing looks as Jody set pancakes and bacon on the table. 

“Eat up!” Jody announced. “Big breakfast and we’ll have a light lunch in your room about two while you’re getting ready.” 

“I’m so stoked for today! It’s like that nervous feeling I always get before a big game, but I know everything is going to go my way, ya know?” Y/N laughed, piling food on her plate. 

“Today is going to be a great day!” Alex declared, taking a seat at the table. Breakfast was a  jovial affair as they chatted about the day’s events.

The morning passed quickly as Y/N bathed and pampered herself before Alex returned to do her hair. She sat at the dressing table, rubbing her favorite lotion into her smoothed skin, when a knock sounded at the door. “Come in.” 

“Hey,” Alex greeted her as she rushed across the room, pulling the curtains closed. 

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked suspiciously. 

“Um, Pops made me do it. Just promise you won’t look out the windows. Sam’ll kill me if you do,” Alex pleaded. 

“Is he here? Can I see him?” Y/N stood, rushing to the door. 

“No, he isn’t here. Yet. But just promise, okay? They have a surprise for you, but they’re all hush hush about it. I don’t even know what it is,” Alex revealed, turning to her friend. The doorbell sounded through the house. Alex pulled out her phone to check the security camera. “Oh it’s the florist! I gotta go! Stay here!” 

Y/N laughed and waved Alex off as she ran out of the room and bounded down the stairs. She returned to the dressing table and looked over her supplies, making sure she had everything they needed. Satisfied, she turned her thoughts to Sam. She couldn’t wait to marry him and the next few hours couldn’t pass fast enough for her. 

The sound of heavy footfalls roused her from her thoughts as Alex returned to the room with a curling wand in one hand, two beers in the other and a mile wide smile on her face. “Ready?” 

~*~

The soft rap of knuckles broke through the laughter. “Y/N? Honey, it’s time.” 

Alex opened the door to reveal Bobby on the other side. His hair was combed and he looked rather dashing in his smart, dark gray suit. She turned to Y/N. “I’ll see you guys downstairs.” 

“You clean up nice, Bobby,” Y/N giggled as she walked toward the man that was about to give her away. She laid one hand on his chest, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on the lapel. 

“I dressed down so I don’t steal your thunder, pretty girl,” Bobby jested. “You, you look beautiful, Y/N.” 

“Thank you, Bobby.” She smiled. “Shall we?”

“Let’s get you married, girl. That idjit is driving me crazy, pacing around in my lawn like he is. He’s gonna kill my damn grass!” he grumbled, but Y/N could hear the pride in his voice. 

~*~

Y/N and Sam exchanged their vows under an arbor that Sam and Bobby had built as a surprise for Y/N. It was made from branches and draped with fairy lights hanging from it. Over the top branch, Sam had secured boughs of baby’s breath, adding a feminine touch to the rustic arbor. 

After signing their marriage certificate and celebrating with their guests, Sam and Y/N had headed to Bobby and Jody’s secluded lake cabin for their honeymoon. Jody insisted they would do the cleanup, only Bobby grumped the entire time. “It’s my damn house! Why am I the one picking up all this mess?” 

“Robert Steven Singer!” His wife's voice bellowed out across their yard. “Those kids have had one hell of a year. You will stop your complaining right now. We will clean up while they enjoy their honeymoon in peace!” 

“Yes, dear.” Bobby returned to the task of breaking down the few tables and storing them back in the outbuilding. Truth be told, Bobby was happy as a pig in slop for Sam and Y/N. After what Dean did to them, hosting their wedding was the least he could to help them maintain some normalcy. He glanced over at his wife, beautiful as ever in the morning sun, as she gathered the leftover floral arrangements. What he didn’t expect was to see her face twist into one of worry, bordering on fear. 

“Bobby!” 

For an old man, he ran faster than he had in some years, reaching her side in seconds. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t say anything, only handed him the small card she had plucked from one of the arrangements. He read it a few times, the look on his face matching hers. “Where did this come from?” 

“It was in the flowers that were delivered yesterday. I was just going to bring them to the hospital, and save the cards for them to read when they got back, but,” Jody explained. 

“I’m calling Sam. We don’t want to scare them, but Sam needs to know,” Bobby commanded. 

The conversation was frantic on Bobby’s end as he spoke to Sam. Sam was trying to maintain his composure with his new wife in the same space. He listened carefully as Bobby read him the note and went through his instructions. He knew where the weapons locker was. He knew there was a trap door leading to a cellar in the closet of the master bedroom. A reinforced cellar that locked from the inside. He had never understood before but, after the last year, he silently welcomed Bobby’s paranoid behavior. 

“Rose are red, violets are blue. I’ll come soon after you say I do.”

“My next call is to the warden. Dean should have had all his mail privileges revoked, but I ain’t takin’ any chances here,” Bobby explained. “Alex just left to follow up with the florist to find out where the note originated from.” 

“Thanks, Bobby.” 

“We’ll get this son of a bitch, Sam.” 

“I know you will.” Sam ended the call and ran his hand down his face. 

“Maybe Dean wasn’t working alone. Maybe Shurley was in on it the whole time?” Jody proposed as Bobby dialed the number for the prison. 

“Get Alex on him as soon as she is done with the florist,” Bobby told her. 

Jody shot off a text to Alex as Bobby was on the phone. The agitated look on his face told her what they already knew. It wasn’t Dean.

“Ain’t him,” Bobby confirmed. “Warden said he started a fight, tried to kill a guy over pudding in the mess hall and he has been in solitary for the last month.”

“Pudding?” Jody raised an eyebrow. 

“Apparently they don’t get pie in prison,” Bobby chuckled despite the situation. “Alex get anything?” 

“Not really. The order was placed online with a credit card over a week ago. They’re tracing it now,” Jody informed him. “But, the email is probably a dead end and the card a prepaid debit. She’s headed over to Shurley’s to question him now.” 

“Well, let’s get the rest of this crap stowed so we can come up with a plan,” Bobby suggested, throwing his arm around her waist as they headed back into the yard. 

~*~

Sam thanked the drama classes in high school for helping him conceal the news of the recent threat from Y/N. Three days into their honeymoon and they had barely left the bedroom except to eat and shower. He couldn’t wait to see her glowing with their child and hoped the sheer amount of his ejaculate had done the trick. However, their food supply was low and they would have to head into town if they wanted to eat for the next four days. He would go, but didn’t want to leave her alone. If they went together, at least he would be by her side and could keep her safe if something happened. 

Thankfully, the trip to town was uneventful. Sam whistled while they unpacked groceries, stealing a kiss here and there from Y/N. She was all smiles for him and he didn’t want to ruin it. That however, clearly wasn’t up to him when he heard her scream moments later. Sam ran toward the master bedroom. 

Y/N had pushed herself up against the wall in the far corner of the room, tears streaming down her face when Sam entered the room. She pointed toward the bed where a plan white envelope lay in the middle. 

“Rose are red, violets are blue. I can’t wait to take another life from you.” 

Sam moved to the closet quick as lightning, pulling up on the trap door. “Go. Lock the door and wait for me. I love you.” He kissed her and gently shoved her toward the hidden staircase. Once he confirmed she was inside and he heard the lock catch, he moved to the weapons stash. With deft fingers, he spun the dial until the lock gave. He removed the HK45 and an extra magazine from the shelf. 

Although he was sure no one was still in the cabin besides Y/N and him, he cleared it room by room, just as Bobby and Dean had taught him. He even did a quick perimeter sweep on the property, but found nothing that shouldn’t have been there. There wasn’t even so much as an animal print in the dirt. Frustrated, he pulled out his phone and told Bobby what had transpired. 

“Come home, boy. You’re too far from civilization and, if something does happen, I can’t get to you fast enough,” Bobby stated the obvious. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. We’ll pack up and be on the road in an hour,” Sam agreed. He retreated into the cabin and knocked on the hidden door. “Babe? It’s me. It’s all clear. Please open the door.” He was only met with silence. Not even a sniffle or whimper coming from below. His heart started racing. “Y/N! Open the door. It’s safe to come out. Please?” Sam turned, pacing the room. He stopped dead. There was another note on the bed. He opened it, his fingers trembling as he read the words. 

Roses are red, violets are blue. You’ll scream for her, just like Jessica did for you.

His blood ran cold as he dialed Bobby frantically. “Is there an exit?”

“What are you talking about Sam?” 

“The cellar room, Bobby! Is there a fucking way out besides the closet?” 

“Yes! There is a tunnel that runs out fifty yards, exits in the boat house,” Bobby sighed. 

Sam took off at a full sprint the minute he hit the back door, his long legs carrying him across the lawn to the lake. 

“Sam!” Bobby’s voice came through the phone. 

“The boat’s gone and the door is open. He left another note in the house. How the fuck did he get in?” Sam screamed. “And, why the fuck didn’t we know my brother had a fucking partner?” 

“Sam, Rufus is on his way. Jody is on the phone with the locals. Go back to the house and stay put,” Bobby ordered. 

“I need her, Bobby,” Sam cried into the phone. His perfect life vanishing right before him. 

“I know boy. I know. We’ll get her back.” 

Bobby turned to his wife as she hung up with the sheriff's office. “They’re on their way.” 

“Why didn’t we see something like this coming?” 

“Because Dean confessed. There was no need to investigate further. Let’s go back and take another look at Shurley. Alex said he isn’t home. She talked to his neighbors, they said he left yesterday morning,” Jody relayed. 

“Fuck,” Bobby groaned. “Better make some coffee.” 

For hours, they combed over the original case files from Sam’s college girlfriend, Jessica Moore. There wasn’t much to the case prior to the fire and her death. Michael Shurley had been seen in the vicinity, but he lived in the building. “Sam said he got weird, but there is nothing in his history to suggest he is capable of something like this, Bobby. His background is clean.” Jody stood to pour more coffee and her bones creaked as she stretched.

Rufus had checked in with them earlier. The locals had combed the tunnel and the boat house, but the only sign something was awry was the stolen boat. The cellar door locked from the inside only, same with the exit door. It didn’t make sense to the sheriff as she shared her professional opinion with Bobby’s seasoned investigator. 

“Bobby, I am telling you, this was an inside job!” Rufus struggled to keep his voice down, not wanting to alert Sam. 

“Rufus, I have known this boy damn near his entire life!” Bobby argued. 

“Singer, you’ve known me longer than that boy’s been alive. How many times have you known me to be wrong?” Rufus challenged him. 

“Never,” Bobby conceded. “Balls!” 

“I’m staying here with him for a few days. I called in some backup to keep eyes on him, too.” 

“Who?” Bobby demanded, not wanting to involve anyone else in this mess. 

“Ellen.” 

“Ellen Harvelle? Your ex-wife Ellen?” Bobby gasped.

“Yes, my ex-wife,” Rufus replied. “She’s still in the area and Sam doesn’t know her. She’ll be able to keep tabs on him if he leaves and follow him. I can’t. But she and her daughter can.”

“Best option we got, I guess,” Bobby sighed. “Just keep me posted, huh?”

“Copy that.”

Rufus didn’t have to wait long for Sam to become restless. 

“Rufus, we need to go looking for her!” Sam shouted, breaking the silence in the cabin. 

“Sam, we need to stay here in case she comes back. You need to be here in case he calls you. I can’t trace the call if I don’t know it’s coming in,” Rufus reasoned with him. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Sam resigned. “I’m going to make something to eat. You hungry?”

“I could eat. But you’ve got enough going on right now. I’ll take care of it,” Rufus told him. 

Grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn’t exactly what Sam had in mind for dinner, but, with his wife having been kidnapped by a psychopath, it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was finding her. 

Sam excused himself for the night and retreated to the master bedroom where he tried to sleep, but hopes and dreams of their future morphed into nightmares. 

Rufus drifted off on the sofa, the fireplace and the television lighting the room. But, life as a former military man had made him a very light sleeper and he opened one eye at the sound of an engine starting in the distance. 

He grabbed his phone off the table next to him and dialed Ellen’s number. “I think he’s on the move.” 

“Jo’s at the end of the road on an all terrain. She’ll see him if he leaves,” Ellen informed him. “I’m on the other side of town. Lady called in suspicious activity at the old Novak place.”

“Keep me posted,” Rufus told her as another call rang through to his phone. He answered the incoming call. “Turner.” 

“Lady out on Route 33 called in some suspicious activity and appears there is someone staking out the house.” Sheriff Hanscum filled him in on what he already knew. “Wouldn’t happen to be one of yours, would it?”

“I told you earlier, Sheriff. We take care of our own and we’re all licensed professionals. If that son of a bitch is in there, she’ll see him. But you better hope your men to get to him first, because she ain’t gentle. Trust me, I know. She’s my ex-wife,” Rufus laughed. His long legs carried him through the house and sure enough, Sam’s room was empty, the bed untouched.

Rufus placed another call. “Jody, I need a property records search.” He relayed the address and waited while she accessed the data.

“Huh. Get a load of this. The property is registered to a Chuck and Amara Shurley. So, I did a little digging. Used to be owned by Lucille Novak, who died about twenty years ago. She left the house and surrounding land to her children Chuck and Amara. Chuck has four children, the youngest? One Michael Shurley,” Jody revealed. 

“Son of a bitch,” Rufus marveled at the revelation. “I think Sam is on the move. Jo’s on Sam, Ellen’s watching the house. How soon can you get here?” 

“We’re only about thirty minutes out,” Jody replied. 

“Good, ‘cause this might get ugly,” Rufus admitted and disconnected the call. He put on a fresh pot of coffee and waited. 

~*~

“What do you want with me, Michael?” Y/N screamed for the hundredth time since he had taken her from the cabin. From her husband. Her ears were ringing and her head still throbbed where Michael had struck her on the boat because she wouldn’t stop screaming. 

“It’s what we want with you. Now shut up!” Michael Shurley growled. He had been pacing the dirt floor basement of some old farmhouse for hours. 

“Lucky me, I get two stalkers,” she sassed. She had moved from frightened to annoyed some time ago, after her assailant revealed himself to her. She was also royally pissed as the ropes bit into her wrists behind her back. 

The sound of a door shutting above them snapped Michael’s attention from the floor. “Finally!” He rocketed up the old staircase and slammed the door shut behind him. 

Y/N tested the ropes again without Michael in the room. Damn! They were too tight as she tried to wriggle her wrists, but the rickety chair she was tied to wobbled sideways under weight. She kept moving, her eyes glued to the staircase. She could hear voices upstairs, angry voices as they argued. 

“This wasn’t the plan, fuck nut!” The new voice bellowed. It was definitely male, but old houses were built solidly and she couldn’t recognize the voice with her ears still buzzing.

“Yeah, well maybe I’m not a fan of the plan, douchebag!” Michael retorted. 

There was a scuffle, dirt rained down on her as they moved across the floor. She shook the debris from her hair and continued rocking. On the fourth round, the chair gave way, falling apart beneath her. She muffled her grunt as she hit the hard floor. Y/N managed to disassemble the chair to free her arms. As the voices above her got louder, she quickly scanned the space, looking for an escape route. 

“You and Dean had your fun! Now, it’s my turn! Where is she?” The second man demanded. 

“Downstairs,” Michael disclosed. “But, I’m not done. I didn’t get my turn because he’s a control freak. I want the same time I got with Jessica! She was supposed to mine!”

“You’ll get what I give you, loser.”

Heavy footfalls crossed the floor and Y/N knew she was running out of time. Overwrought, she ran toward the dark corner of the basement behind the stairs, a glint of light garnering her attention. It was a window! She dragged a nearby crate to the wall, using it to reach the ledge. Much to her surprise and good fortune, the window opened with ease. “What a dumb fuck.” Y/N muttered to herself as she lifted herself out the window. 

She took off running as fast as her legs would carry her. They were cramping from being tied to a chair for so long, but she only needed to make it to the road. She could see it in the distance. Just a little farther. She missed the fallen tree hiding in the tall grass and went down, landing hard in the overgrown field. Groaning, she turned her head towards the road when she heard the rumble of an engine. She didn’t dare call out for help if Michael and his partner discovered she was missing. Y/N crawled back to the tree and tried to hide against it as well as she could. 

She looked ahead and saw the grass moving and a flashlight low to the ground. Maybe it was her ears, now ringing louder with the recent fall, but she swore she heard her name. 

“Y/N?” A female voice called out again. 

“I’m here,” she whispered. “Please help me.” 

“Hi, honey. My name is Ellen. I’m friends with Bobby. He sent me to find you,” Ellen held out her hand to help Y/N up. “Now stay low so we can get out of here.” 

Y/N didn’t respond, only nodding her agreement. She couldn’t wait to get back home to Sam and get back to living their new life together. 

They reached Ellen’s car and she helped Y/N inside, shutting the door softly behind her. The car was still running and the heat was on. Y/N wrapped her arms around her in an attempt to get warm. She could see Ellen at the drivers door, she was on her phone but she couldn’t hear the conversation. Ellen nodded sharply and put her phone away before she opened the door. 

Noticing Y/N shivering, Ellen turned up the heater and grabbed a blanket from the backseat, handing it to her. “You okay, honey?”

“No, not really. This is so fucked up,” she murmured. 

“Bobby and Jody’ll be here in a minute and we’ll get you taken care of, okay?” Ellen told her sweetly. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ellen seemingly typing out messages on her phone, while Y/N just stared wide eyed into the night. Her trance was broken as a police cruiser passed them like a bat out of hell, lights flashing. 

“That’s our cue,” Ellen replied, pulling back out on the road, following the squad into a long driveway. 

Y/N started crying when she realized where they were. “No, no, no! I’m not going back. You might as well kill me now!” 

“Oh, honey. It’s okay. The police are gonna get him. You’re safe right here with me,” Ellen assured Y/N as she continued to shake and cry. Ellen turned her attention back towards the house when she saw the sheriff motion her inside. Perfect timing as Bobby’s pick-up rolled in next to her. “They’re here.” 

Y/N looked up and the first thing she saw was Jody’s face. She opened the door and rushed around the car to embrace her. Ellen followed suit, meeting Bobby at the front of his truck. 

“Sheriff wants her inside,” Ellen explained, looking over at Y/N wrapped in Jody’s arms. “Needs her to identify the man that took her.” 

“I don’t like it. Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” Bobby protested, but Ellen just shook her head. “Fine. Y/N, sweetheart? We need to go inside and talk to the sheriff. We’ll stay with you the whole time, okay?” 

“Okay,” she sniffled. “Where’s Sam?”

“We’ll get him for you, okay?” Ellen told her as they headed to the door. 

Ellen stepped inside first, followed by Bobby, Jody and Y/N bringing up the rear as she clung to Jody for dear life. The sheriff greeted each of them before addressing Y/N. 

“Mrs. Winchester, I need you to tell me if you recognize this man,” Sheriff Hanscum said softly, cognizant of the recent trauma she had endured. 

“Yeah, o-okay,” Y/N stammered. Jody helped her into a chair as one of the deputies led a handcuffed man into the room. “That’s Michael Shurley.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Winchester,” Sheriff Hanscum acknowledged, crouching next to her. “My name’s Donna, Y/N. I need a favor, I need you to look at one more. You think you can do that for me?”

She nodded as Donna stood. Her eyes stayed glued to the floor until a man’s shoes came into view. Y/N followed the line of his legs up, her brow furrowing as she reached his face. Her hand flew up, barely concealing the yelp that fell from her mouth. “Sam?”

~*~

Two weeks later, Y/N was sitting at the kitchen table having coffee with Jody. Her days were far from normal now. She resigned from her job at the school and moved in with Bobby and Jody. 

“I want to see it,” Y/N raised her head and looked Jody in the eye. 

“Y/N…” Jody paused, realizing she was referring to Sam’s recorded confession. 

“He wouldn’t talk to me when I went to see him. I deserve an explanation,” Y/N objected. “He owes me that much.” 

“Donna already turned it over. They’re being prosecuted for Jessica’s death. Dean’s still serving his life sentence, but Sam and Michael will get theirs now, too,” Jody empathized. She couldn’t imagine what the poor girl was going through. All she knew was that she needed to take care of her, just like her own daughter. That meant protecting her from the truth. She didn’t need to hear the ugly truth.

The house phone rang, startling them both. “Hello?...Yes, just a moment please. Bobby? Phone call!” 

“Got it!” Bobby answered from his office, Jody hanging up the receiver. 

“Ladies,” Bobby greeted Y/N and his wife as he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, giving them each a kiss on the cheek. 

“Who was on the phone?” Jody inquired, refilling his coffee. 

“That was the warden,” he announced. 

“Oh?” Jody remarked.

“Um, yeah. He called with some news,” Bobby gulped. “Y/N, I don’t even know how to start…”  

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Y/N looked up, tears in her eyes. 

“How-how did you know?” Bobby faltered. 

“Michael said Dean was a control freak. It didn’t go according to plan and I’m still alive. Dean’s gotta be pissed. It just makes sense that he would go after Sam, since he couldn’t finish the job,” Y/N shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Dean’s dead, too. They killed each other,” Bobby elaborated. “And Michael hung himself in his cell.” 

Jody knelt next to Y/N’s chair, a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s over, baby girl.” 

“No, it’s not, Jody. It’ll never be over,” Y/N surmised, looking into Jody’s eyes. “I’m late.” 

~*~*~*~*~

Thank you for reading. Please tell me how you liked it. Did it invoke emotion? Are you mad at me? TELL ME!

~*~*~*~*~

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @seenashwrite @crashdevlin @thoughtslikeaminefield @emoryhemsworth

The Sam Sin-dicate: @mtngirlforever @supernatural-jackles

Some others (based on your comments from part 2): @moosekateer13 @innerpaperexpertcloud @karouwinchester @stusbunker @jbbarnesgirl @bemyqueenofdarkness @delightfullykrispypeach 

[faee-riee]

let me see your soul; pt. I

let me see your soul;

SoulMateAU! OCs

\\ where everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate.

TRIGGER WARNING: A few swears, but other than that, none !

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

     It was depressing, to say the least - to witness people halt in their tracks as they meet eyes with a total stranger then suddenly, sparks fly. It is a monumental moment in every person’s life: they meet their lover, they can start a family with their lover, they can turn grey with their lover. However, they obviously do not know the risks of locking eyes with their lover.

     Elena rested her chin on the palm of her hand as she peeks out the window at the tops of people’s heads, trying to find a subject to illustrate. Her gaze locks onto a couple parting ways, seemingly, for good. The girl walks away as the boy stands dazed. He stares at her shrinking form until she disappears out of his life completely. He looks heartbroken and that is exactly what ignites the fire inside of her. Elena’s brows furrowed together and she gripped her stubby pencil.

     What’s the point in dating another person if you know they are not the one? Were they really soulmates? Is it possible for a soulmate to be unrequited? If so, is this man really heartbroken or is he just going through the notions? Either way, it’s just more wasted time that you could be using to do something more productive. The fact that some people pretend to be, bothers me. They don’t know what heartbreak looks like; and,  they should be elated that they don’t.

     Elena feels her pencil snap from the pressure that has been put on it in the midst of her irritation. She doesn’t need to look down to process what happened, instead she allowed her eyes to close as she sighed in frustration, “You’re kidding me.” She opens her eyes and gets up from her task chair to walk across her studio to where she keeps her graphite pencils. Passing by the door, she glances out to see her dad’s slumped form in his armchair. Elena frowned to herself by continues to open the drawer containing her regular graphite pencils. After tugging at the handle of the drawer, she groans at how light it feels and runs her fingers through her hair before looking inside.

     “Empty. Okay. This is fine,” reaching for the other drawer, “Anything is okay. I’ll make do with whatever I find.”

     She prays that it is filled with graphite sticks, pencils, pens, anything - but, alas, nothing. Deflated, Elena truds back to her seat and rests her head on her desk. Her lips involuntarily assumed a pout as she thinks back to her dad - she’s never seen him look that down before. Minutes pass by before she gets up and heads to her closet. She psychs herself up as she changes to go out to buy another bulk of her art supplies. Usually, she would ask her dad to buy her art supplies when he goes out to buy groceries but he hasn’t been in the mood to go outside. The food stashed at their house has been diminishing slower than normal so they did not need to head out as often. Elena deduced that her father had not been eating properly and chastised herself for not realizing sooner. She makes his favorite foods constantly, but it’s still never enough for him to finish a bowl. At the dinner table, she would look into his eyes and see a piece of his soul missing as each day goes by. His facial expressions lost its warmth: his soft dark hair, his smile, his dimple, his laugh lines. All of them were replaced with short strokes of depression etched onto his skin. Elena hated seeing him like this, and she hated her mother even more for making him like this. She has tried to convince him to go out and meet new people, telling him that maybe there was a mistake but, this would only bring up emotions that she would rather keep subdued.

------

     Her father’s eyes crinkled into slits, “No, listen to me, Elena. Your mother was my only shot. She was my person! My love! She left with all the color! This shouldn’t have happened -- no, this doesn’t happen! Who else has experienced something like this? No one! This is a predestined thing, and you know you fucked up when it turns out that you and your soulmate aren’t meant to be.”

     “But dad! Who says that she was your one shot? Who says that--”

     “No, Elena. Please, hear me out,” his sharp eyes softened considerably as he regarded her tense stance, “Her leaving isn’t the only thing that saddens me. It’s you.. You had to witness this, and you had to adapt to my behavior. I can no longer see the vibrant explosions of your work that you created. Your heart and soul. While you couldn’t see them the way I saw them, I saw you in your artwork. Along with that, I lost the colors of your warm brown eyes, your olive skin, your long black hair. That hurt my heart because all of those colors were you! All of them, painting or appearance.”

     He let Elena process what he said and continued when he saw tears form in her eyes, knowing that she needed to hear this for her own good.

     “I wasn’t able to hide the hurt and, I’ll admit, I let it get the best of me. But seeing you notice and start to use more colorless mediums that I told you about, just so I wouldn’t be sad made me realize that you had hidden yourself for my sake.,” he stood up from his chair and walked over to Elena to embrace her, “I’m sorry I got angry earlier.”

     “Elena hid her face in her father’s chest, “It’s okay, dad, I’m sorry I pushed.”

     “I don’t want you worrying about me like this, honey. Could you do that for me?”

     “I can’t promise you that. I’m sorry.”

     “I know, baby. But please try? I hate seeing you like this more than anything.”

     “I’ll try my best.”

------

     Elena stared at her reflection for a few more minutes and then grabbed her sketchbook before heading out into the kitchen to see which groceries she needed to buy. Okay, potatoes, carrots, chicken broth, what else..? Her dad slowly stood up, “You’re going out?”

     “Yep. Ran out of some art supplies-- well, actually, all of them. But! I thought I’d restock on food while I’m out.”

     Elena turned around and her dad was at the kitchen island, taking note of what was gone in the fridge, “What else do you need?”

     “No, dad. Sit back down,” she pointed back to the chair and threw a playful glare at him, “I’ll be the one getting all the stuff today.”

     Her dad smiled softly, “You don’t need to, I can do it. I know you don’t want to risk going outside.”

     “I never said that you can’t do it,” Elena rolled her eyes, I know that you shouldn’t, “I’ve been in this house the majority of them time, that window really blocks where most of the action happens. So, I had the brilliant idea of actually putting myself in the action for once.”

     She closed the fridge and smiled at him, “I’ll be fine. I’ll be out and back in no time, you wouldn’t have even known I left.”

     “Why are you taking your sketchbook then?”

     Elena walked over to the keyring and grabbed the spare key and put on her sunglasses, “I’ll be in the action this time, remember? I’ll do rough sketches of things and come back home to add more details.”

     She walked up to her dad and stood on her tiptoes to give a kiss on his cheek then headed for the door. Once she stepped out, she realized that she actually truly missed being outdoors. While her parents were together, seeing how in love they were - it made her long to be in a relationship with someone like that. So, as a little girl, she always wanted to be outside staring at random boys around her age until she locked eyes with them. Of course, none of them were the one as she still sees in shades of black and white. Once her mother left them, she refrained from going outside as much as possible for two reasons. First being so she could stay and keep an eye on her dad to the best of her abilities, and second is to not risk ending up like him. She walked down the sidewalk until she turned onto the main road where all the businesses were. Elena waltzed through the doors of her local grocery shop and navigated herself to the vegetables. At times like this, she wondered if seeing in color would really make a difference. Words like Orange, Green, Vibrant, and Dull were just words. She knew basic things like, the sky is blue, grass is green, trees are brown, and clouds are white. But they meant nothing because she couldn’t manifest what she’s never seen. She picked up a carrot that did not look physically deformed and gave it a light squeeze to see if it was spoiled or not. Because she couldn’t rely on color, she depended on her other senses to make sure she was not buying potentially poisonous ingredients. She tossed a few more into the basket before continuing the same process with potatoes.

     Elena rounded the corner into the aisle containing the chicken broth. Okay, a little rectangular carton with a picture of a chicken shouldn’t be that hard to find, right? It was. The relatively short length of the aisle seemed to drag on forever as there were multiple small rectangular boxes with a picture of a chicken. She browsed each row on the self reading the titles since she did not recall any unique features of the one they normally buy. Her walking back and forth in the same row did garner some unwanted attention.

     Things like, “Poor girl, remember when we had to live like that?

     “Colors really change the game.”

     “Isn’t she like, twenty-one? How has she not found her soulmate?”

     “I’m so glad I have you now.”

     “I don’t appreciate color enough!”

     They were poorly whispered around Elena. She heard every single comment, but she carried on with what she was doing until she found what she was looking for. Smiling softly to herself, she placed the chicken broth into the cart and grabbed a few more for good measure so she doesn’t ever have to do that again. She made her way to the self check-out, as she wanted to desperately get away from the eyes of those who saw her earlier, and paid for her items then immediately beelined to the exit.  Elena peered into her bags to recount her items as she went through the doors only to run into a wall, effectively knocking her and her things to the ground.

     A voice appeared, “I’m so sorry! Let me get those for you!”

     Elena’s eyes saw a hand frantically grab for her sunglasses and her gaze couldn’t help but trail up the person’s arm until she met with this person’s eyes.

     “Oh shit.”

     She stared at this man’s face as it slowly started to warp into something unknown to Elena. Something new and scary - but so refresing!

     “Definitely not what I thought my soulmate’s first word to me would be. But that works, too. I’m Adolfo.” He bent down to pick up the other items before he reached his hand out and patiently waited for her.

     Elena’s mind wanted to start a war with her subconscious, but she put it on hold as she processed more colors becoming more saturated. She doesn’t know what she’s seeing, but she wants to see every single bit of it. It started with the color of his eyes, his skin, his hair, then it moved to the color of his shirt all the way to his shoes. Before she knew it, all her surroundings had painted themselves in all the colors known to mankind. She looked up to the sky, blue. Then to the trees, brown - her eyes went to the grass surrounding the base of the tree and jumped back up to the leaves on the tree, and green? A clearing of the throat from behind her made her take his and and jump up, apologizing profusely to the individual who wanted to get past them.

     Her mind clicked and Elena whipped around to face the man who was flipping through her sketchbook, “Oh god. I said that out loud didn’t I?,” she was mortified. 

     He looked up and smiled, “You sure did, cutie. What’s your name?”

     “I’m sorry, it just slipped out of me. I’m.. Elena.”

     He cocked an eyebrow, “And that’s your real name, correct?”

     “Of course! What makes you say that?”

     “You hesitated.” Adolfo shut her carefully shut her sketchbook and handed it to her.

     “Oh...”

     “Well! Nice to meet you Elena, like I said before: I’m Adolfo. Your elated, and less talented, soulmate.”

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

Author’s Note: It’s been awhile. Writing got rusty, but with all this online learning classes, an opportunity to write more stories came up. Revised the first part got tired on the rest :p This is actually supposed to be a short story for my english class, but I think I’ll make it into a series? Who knows. Hopefully through this, I improve some more and get better ideas! 

I hope that you guys are staying safe and calm. If you are struggling with something and just need to vent, I’m here if you’re comfortable with that. I won’t push. In any case, if it’s more serious (because I know that some people are in unfortunate circumstances) please, don’t hesitate to seek help. People are here for you in this time of need, and they care for you.

Below, I’ll list hotlines that you or someone you know may need:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline: (800) 799-7233 The Trevor Project: (866) 488-7386 Crisis Text Line: Text ‘START’ to 741-741 National Runaway Safeline: 800-RUNAWAY (800-786-2929) True Colors United: (212) 461-4401

Stay safe and Take care. -s.

[medea10]

My Review of Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku

[thatfanficstuff]

Netflix. No Chill. - Steve

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: um...the word sex??

A/N: This is for @promarvelfangirl‘s 4K Fall Fluff Challenge. She was kind enough to give me an extension because life. My prompt was Netflix. I really like how this little idea turned out. Hopefully you do too.

***

Your eyes followed Steve as he strolled into the kitchen. When he glanced over and caught your gaze, he sent you a small smile which you returned. Heat flooded your face and you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. You saw the man every day, eventually this crush had to go away. Right?

“I made more of that fruit salad if you want some,” you told him when you noticed him studying the contents of the pantry.

His face lit up. “Thanks, Y/N/N.”

When Steve opened the fridge, you felt a nudge in your side. You glared at Sam who was grinning beside you. “Just ask him out already.”

Your eyes widened as you blinked at him. “What?” The word came out in a strangled gasp and you cleared your throat before repeating it.

“You like him. He likes you. Just ask him out.”

You shot a worried glance in Steve’s direction to make sure he hadn’t overheard. “Shh,” you chastised Sam. “He does not like me. And I can’t just ask him out. It would be too awkward.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Steve doesn’t like you at all,” he said in a flat voice. “And what’s awkward about it? This is the 21st century. Embrace your power. Women ask men out all the time now.”

“Thanks for the women’s power speech, Sammy, but I don’t just work with Steve. I train with him. I live with him. What is not awkward about that?”

“I’ll give you a hundred.” The statement had you and Sam both turning in surprise to where Bucky sat in a chair nearby. He was digging through a bag of sour gummies, picking out his favorite flavors. After a moment, probably when he realized there’d been no response, he looked at the two of you. “What?”

“Did you just say you’d give her a hundred dollars to ask Cap out on a date?” Sam hissed, obviously as surprised by the offer as you were.

A glance toward the kitchen showed Steve deep in conversation with Tony while he ate. You looked back to Buck. “Are you serious?”

Buck nodded and gave a little shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

You stared at him. “Damn it, Barnes,” you said with a sigh.

“What did I do?” he asked with a frown.

“I’d ask out Rumlow for a hundred bucks.” Barnes may have an overabundance of cash, but you were still paying off student loans. Tony had offered to pay them for you, but it was a pride thing.

“Seriously, Y/N?” Sam said, sounding completely disgusted.

You shrugged. You didn’t have to defend yourself. Money was money. Besides, this way you could ask Steve out with no repercussions. If he said no, you’d just tell him you only did it for the money.

Making your way across the room, you slid your hands into the back pockets of your jeans, hoping the casual position would help conceal some of your nervousness. Tony stopped talking and smiled when you reached them which prompted Steve to turn and face you.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

You shuffled your feet and swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to my room tonight around 7 and we could watch a couple of those movies I told you about on Netflix?”

He smiled. “Sure. Wouldn’t it be easier to watch them in the theater room though? Then everyone could come.”

Your face heated again and nervous nausea rolled in your belly. You took a deep breath. You could do this. “Um…I was actually wanting it to be just us? You know. Like a date?” The unsure tone to your words had you holding back a grimace. Why were you so bad at this?

Steve’s smile fell and his eyes went wide. A tinge of red colored his cheeks as he just continued to gape at you.

“I mean if you don’t want to, that’s fine. No hard feelings,” you rushed to add when it seemed like he wasn’t going to respond.

He jerked forward on his seat a little as Tony nudged him in the side. “No,” Steve said hastily. “I mean…” He trailed off and looked down. His shoulders moved as he took a deep breath. When he looked back up, his smile had returned and he had a new light in his eyes. “That sounds fantastic, actually.”

You found yourself mirroring his grin before you could stop yourself. “Really?”

***

A knock sounded at your door at precisely seven o’clock. You’d spent your afternoon making a nest of pillows on your bed so you two could snuggle into them and watch the movies together. Popcorn was popped and a selection of candy you stole from Bucky and Clint littered the top of your desk. One last look around your room told you everything was as good as it was going to get.

You opened the door with a wide smile, enjoying the flutter of butterflies in your stomach. Steve stood in the hall, shifting on his feet. His gaze ran over you and he smiled as he took in your loungers and off the shoulder sweatshirt. “Hey.”

“Hello yourself, Captain,” you said as you stepped aside to let him in. His cheeks flushed again and you couldn’t help a low chuckle.

You grabbed the remote and took your position on the bed before patting the spot beside you. “Get comfy, Steve. Shaun of the Dead awaits you.”

He looked uncertain, but he settled into his spot. You frowned when you noticed he’d left quite a bit of space between the two of you but thought maybe he’d relax after a while. You two always cuddled when watching movies. It was one of the reasons you suggested it. Before long, you found yourself lost in the movie. Your hand found Steve’s thigh as you both laughed at something on the screen.

Steve cleared his throat and shifted away from you. You jerked your hand away. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said. His continued fidgeting told you otherwise. Only a few minutes had passed when he said, “I’m going to sit on the floor if that’s okay.”

Your heart sank a little but you simply nodded. Your eyes followed Steve as he grabbed a pillow from your bed and sat on the floor in front of the TV. He shoved the pillow behind his back and shifted until he was comfortable. As he got distracted by the film once more, you found yourself watching him more than the screen. This so wasn’t how you had imagined this night going.

You bit your lip as you contemplated what to do. Finally, you grabbed one of the pillows and laid on your belly across the bed using it to prop you up. Now at least your head was close him. He glanced over and smiled when he noticed you had moved but his attention quickly returned to the movie.

This situation wasn’t any better. “Popcorn?” you asked.

“Sure.”

You rolled off the bed to grab the bowl. When you turned back toward Steve, you looked between him and the bed. Making a decision, you sat on the floor beside him, pulling your pillow down to rest against. You placed the bowl between you and breathed out a soft sigh of relief when he didn’t move away from you.

Everything seemed to be going well until your fingers brushed against his when you both reached for popcorn at the same time. Steve yanked his hand from the bowl and slid a good foot in the other direction. Tears pricked your eyes as you paused the movie.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, your voice sounding small and unlike you.

Steve hopped to his feet. He raked a hand through his hair while his other hand perched on his hip. “I didn’t understand what you were asking when you invited me tonight. I can’t do this.”

Oh, that hurt. A physical ache deep in your chest. You didn’t look at him as you spoke, afraid he’d read it in your eyes. “I thought it was pretty clear it was date. I told you that you didn’t have to accept. No hard feelings. Why didn’t you just tell me that you don’t like me like that?” Your voice broke in the middle of the last sentence and a tear rolled down your face.

Your hope that Steve didn’t notice was lost when he dropped to his knees beside you and cradled your face in his hand. “Hey. Don’t do that, baby. Don’t cry. You’re killing me here.”

You shook your head and turned away from him. “Don’t call me that.” Your voice was hard though more hot tears trailed down your cheeks.

“But, Y/N—” he started but you cut him off.

“No, Steve.” Your humiliation and hurt was quickly morphing to anger. “I was fine. I mean, yeah, maybe I spent too much time thinking about you or watching you, but I might have gotten over it. Someday. But then you gave me hope. Now it’s so much worse. Why would you do that? Did you feel sorry for me?”

Steve studied you with wild eyed panic. Suddenly, he grasped your face in both hands and crashed his lips into yours. It only took a moment before you returned the gesture. Just before you became completely lost in Steve Rogers, you remembered he still had some questions to answer.

You placed your palms against his chest and pushed him back. “I’m really confused.” You didn’t know what else to say.

He sat on his heels and looked down at where his hands rested on his knees. “I like you, Y/N. I mean, I really like you. I have for a long time.”

You weren’t certain whether to believe him or not. It seemed impossible given how he’d been acting. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Glancing up, he gave you a crooked smile. “I’m the boss. I didn’t want you to feel pressured to be with me.”

Your heart melted a little at that. He was such a good man. “Let’s say I buy that. What is going on here? We cuddle all the time when we watch movies and now you’re acting like I’m diseased or something.”

He looked down and mumbled something you couldn’t understand.

“What was that?”

He heaved a full body sigh. “Tony explained what it really means when someone invites you over to watch Netflix. Netflix and chill, I think he called it?”

Oh. My. God. You were going to kill Tony Stark.

“I care about you too much to make this just about sex, Y/N.”

Painfully and slowly.

“Steve,” you managed to force through your clenched teeth. His head came up. If his widening eyes were any indication, you were doing a poor job of hiding your fury. “Tony is an idiot.”

“You mean…” he trailed off.

You nodded your head. “Candy, popcorn, movies and cuddles were all I had on the agenda.”

His face flared red again and you couldn’t help your smile at the sight. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Let’s start over, huh?” You gestured to the nest you’d made on the bed.

The two of you settled onto the bed. You pressed against Steve’s side and laid your head on his chest. His arm wrapped around you to hold you close. As you continued the film, he pressed the occasional kiss to your head.

“Hey, Steve?” you said after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you should start checking with me before you believe anything Tony tells you,” you suggested.

His chest moved beneath you as he chuckled. “You can count on it, baby.”

***

Marvel:  @evyiione @gabriellewritermua @reblogger-not-a-blogger 

All the Things: @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20

[vennilavee]

golden hour part XI

GOLDEN HOUR MASTERLIST

PAIRING: bucky barnes x reader

SUMMARY: a series of moments when everything sparkles, shines and glitters, just like it’s gold.

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 2374

A/N: this is honestly awful. full transparency- i honestly just wanted to write something for GH because i havent in a while.

Mid October is your favorite time of the year- the seemingly constant smell of autumn, of falling leaves, of Halloween right around the corner, of crisp freshness… You were addicted to the chilly air and the low moon, the sweaters, the boots, the early nights. One of your favorite things is the warmth that comes from being cold.

The warmth that comes in the form of your Bucky. You’re laying on top of him on your couch, his steady heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Several blankets cover both of you, keeping you both humming in happiness into each other’s skin. With your hair tickling his chin and your fingers tracing his collarbones, your legs intertwined with his… He can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be. A movie, a scary one at that, is playing in the background. You watch intently, gasping as the music picks up a little. You shove your face into his neck, still peeking out with one eye.

“For someone who loves horror movies, you scare easy,” Bucky murmurs, pinching your waist.

“Whatever, Barnes,” You scoff, nuzzling into his neck, “You love it.”

Bucky hums in agreement, his hand resting on your cheek. His skin is so deliciously warm, you think you could bask in it forever. Raising your head a little to peer down at him, you offer him a smile. The scent of your sweater weather candle caresses his senses, leaving him with that familiar feeling of home.

You peck his lips as you brush his hair back to kiss his cheeks and his forehead. You’ll never get tired of the way his nose scrunches or his happy sighs when you kiss him. Bucky is so enamoured by the way you look at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever had. He never wants you to stop looking at him like that.

***

Pumpkin patches, breweries and farms have become the norm for the two of you during the autumn, especially when the sun began to dip into the horizon earlier and earlier everyday. The wind curls around your hair during these days, almost as much as Bucky’s own fingers curl in your hair. Bucky’s become so fond of the fall, too- he’s put up a list of farms he wants to go to before it gets too cold on your fridge. He takes to crossing out each venue with an orange Sharpie whenever you two venture out into whatever pumpkin or beer haven you choose for the week.

Today, you’re at a  farm about an hour from the city. The silence that cozies up next to you is a sharp contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city. You could get used to this, and judging from Bucky’s relaxed shoulders, he could, too.

“Baby,” Bucky says next to you. You’re munching on an apple cider donut and tilt your head curiously at him. “Baby, will you touch here? It feels weird.”

He takes your bare fingers and brings them to his neck, his cheeks and around his mouth.

“Feels itchy sometimes,” Bucky comments with a slight wince as your finger gently feels the rough skin. You stifle a chuckle at his curious eyes, instantly knowing why his skin felt so rough to touch.

“Oh, baby. You have dry skin,” You murmur, “Now that it’s getting colder, you gotta stay moisturized, dear.”

“Dry skin? I’ve never had dry skin before,” Bucky muses, “I guess Hydra always kept me moisturized, huh?”

He laughs and you do, too.

“Poor baby, it probably hurts, too. Your lips are kinda cracked as well,” You notice, running your fingers across his mouth, “Damn, how did I not notice…”

You reach into your purse for the lotion you always carry around with you.

“It might sting a little because you haven’t moisturized in a while.”

You squirt a little bit of lotion and apply it gently to his neck, a low hiss coming out of his mouth. The sting turns into instant relief once you start massaging it into his skin. Suddenly, he feels rejuvenated. You take your chapstick and apply several coats to his lips and tell him to smack them.

“How does that feel?”

“Like my skin just took a drink of water.”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. You take some more lotion and rub it into his hands.

“Baby, you are so dry. You’ll have to moisturize often so that you don’t bleed,” You suggest, “We can get some new lotions and things for you later.”

“Yes, darlin’. Whatever you say. Help me become moist,” Bucky says cheekily.

“Ew, don’t say moist,” You crinkle your nose and smack his chest.

“What do you use? Do you get dry skin?” Bucky lifts your hand up and inspects it, feeling the grooves and ridges of your skin with a feather like touch.

“Yes, baby. If I don’t use lotion right after I shower or wash my hands, I feel like my skin is going to fall off. I’ll show you what I like later tonight, we can go buy some things for your ashy ass.”

“Well, wouldn’t you like to know.”

Another playful smack to his chest. You squeeze his thigh with a wink and hold out the remaining portion of the apple cider donut for him. Bucky opens his mouth and you feed him a piece of the donut, grinning at his happy moan.

“Wanna take a picture with me?” You ask softly. The setting sun is the perfect backdrop for Bucky’s stunning blue eyes. Blue swirls with gold sparkles that grow that much more when he nods at you.

“Like a selfie?”

“Oooh, baby, I’m impressed you know what a selfie is.“

You let out a peal of laughter when he squeezes your hip.

“Steve used to call it a selfer,” Bucky giggles, as if letting you in on a secret, “Sam and I didn’t correct him for days.”

“You both are terrible,” You reply, wrapping your arm around his bicep. He kisses your hair as a breeze blows and brings you closer to him when you shiver.

“Where are your gloves, huh?” Bucky tugs your fingers into his and wraps his arm tighter around you.

“It’s only October, I didn’t think I needed them. Besides, you’re cold, too,” You look pointedly at his flushed cheeks and pink nose.

“Don’t sass me.”

“I’ll sass you if I wanna-“

You take your phone out to take pictures with him and wait for the sunlight to hit his eyes in exactly the way you want it to. He’s smiling into the camera as you loop your fingers through his again. Bucky takes his phone out as well to snap some photos of the both of you.

For his phone lock and home screens. That was close to the modern equivalent of having your picture in his wallet, right? He still wants a picture of you for his wallet, though.

For old time’s sake.

***

“This is the lotion I like,” You point at the shelf, “It’s not scented and doesn’t irritate my skin. I do have some scent ones but most of them don’t usually do much for moisturizing.”

“Why not?”

“Because we can’t have good things apparently, honey,” You pat his cheek, amused at the offended look on his face.

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“Let’s try out these for you and see how they react with your skin, baby. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Later, at his apartment when the sun has long gone down and when you’re yawning in his arms, you take out the bottles of lotion for him to test.

Bucky still hasn’t asked you to sleep over his place- it’s usually him who sleeps over at your apartment. You’re not upset or expecting it soon- you know he needs time.

“Can we try this out, honey?” You ask him, sitting on the edge of his bed. You’re wary- you still haven’t seen him shirtless. “I’ll only put it on where you want me to.”

Bucky nods at you and crosses his legs on his bed. You pump the bottle of lotion a few times and beckon him closer to you. He uncurls his legs and drapes them over your lap. You lean over to massage the lotion into his neck gently, feeling the rough edges of his skin start to smooth over.

“I don’t like putting this lotion on my face because it feels greasy. So I got you this facial lotion. It’s lighter than the lotion you put on your body but still as moisturizing,” You explain and take a few lumps of the facial lotion.

Bucky closes his eyes and you rub the facial moisturizer onto the sharp planes of his cheeks, forehead, and chin. His parted, pink lips puff out air against your neck.

“Roll over. I wanna see the backs of your knees. That’s one of the driest places on the body.”

He complies and pulls his black shorts up a little bit over his knees. The skin is ashy and coarse to the touch. Several cuts mar the back of his knees. It looks like his skin has been so dry that it has cracked.

“Oh baby,” You croon, “Baby, baby, baby. You’re so dry here. This might sting.”

But it could never actually hurt, not when you’re touching him so delicately and running your fingers up and down his skin like you’ve been there a million times before. With fingertips gliding across his skin like golden honey, he barely registers the sting of the lotion against his dry skin.

“It hurts in the mornings, doesn’t it?” You murmur, still sliding your hands up and down his calves.

He nods.

“It hurts on my left side the most in the mornings,” Comes his mumbled reply. Of course it does. Near the scars where skin coalesces with metal.

After you’re done lotioning up his calves, you slide up his body and hug him from behind. A surprised yelp leaves him as his face is pushed into his bed. You move aside the hair at his neck and kiss the nape of his neck.

The former Winter Soldier giggles at your kisses. Your arms wrap around his torso, holding him close to your chest. Bucky hums when your fingers begin to trace his collarbones from under his shirt.

“You should put some lotion on before you sleep, baby,” You chastise gently. Bucky easily turns in your grasp, knocking you to the bed with a yelp, He grins sheepishly at your mock glare. He reaches for you and brings you to his side.

He can’t go more than five seconds without touching you.

Bucky wants you to rub lotion into his scars. But what if… what if you think they’re repulsive? What if you can’t look at them without hiding your disgust?

Sometimes, he has a hard time hiding his disgust as well.

No, that’s unlike you. But still, the words are at the edge of his tongue. Hesitant but yearning to leave his lips.

“Will you do my left side?” Bucky finally murmurs. Pleasant surprise shines through your eyes, meeting shy blue. You kiss him quickly in response as Bucky sits up. He lifts you up easily to set you in his lap. Fingers trail his sharp, scruffy jaw. Pushing his long hair back, you take his chin in  your fingers.

Bucky is delirious from your touch, from something as simple as your serene gaze. You press your lips to his, smiling into the kiss. His hands rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing against the exposed skin there.

The way he holds you now is a sharp contrast to how he held you before. Hesitant hands, furtive glances. You’d had to physically move his hands to your waist in guidance. But you never minded. You’re happy he’s taking this next step, next leap, with you.

Bucky’s breath hitches when you grip the hem of his blue shirt with one hand. Your other hand slides into his hair, tugging at his scalp with familiarity.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” You murmur with a kiss to his jaw. Bucky’s nuzzles your neck and clasps your hand with his.

Bucky’s eyes are squeezed shut.

The shirt peels off of him.

You hold back a gasp at the angry scars on his left side, where metal meets flesh. It looks like the metal arm was haphazardly forced onto his flesh, with its angry, red lines. History is written in these scars, with a part of your Bucky embedded in the metal and flesh.

You press your lips to his scars without a second thought. Bucky’s eyes snap open, expecting a different reaction from you. Your lips mold into his scars, into an ugly, violent part of him. Velvet brushes across sharp, jagged edges.

How could someone so beautiful kiss something so ugly?

You notice how Bucky tries to shift his left side away from your gaze, but you’re having none of it. You trail the planes of his chest with flattened palms, not daring to break eye contact with him. He is so handsome, really- soft blue eyes, even softer caresses. From both flesh and metal.

You rub the lotion slowly into his scars. He chances a glance at the spot where your hands meet his shoulder. Precision glides along with tender touches onto his skin. It’s rhythmic- the way you weave your golden thread into his skin. Never piercing. Only nuzzling, nudging, nestling.

Once you’re done, you wrap your arms around his neck. He’s still shyly looking away from you but you tip his chin up to yours. You kiss the dimple in his chin before launching yourself at his plump lips. Bucky falls backwards onto the bed with a soft thump and you grin up at him.

“Bucky baby,” You murmur, “Thank you. For letting me in. I’m proud of you.”

He blushes under your gaze.

“Stay over,” Bucky pleads, “Stay here with me. Let’s have an evening of firsts.”

First time seeing him without his shirt on. First time sleeping over at his place. It’s momentous and it feels monumental to you. You’re already nodding before he finishes speaking and he’s kissing you again, hands roaming your hips, lips skimming your skin, legs tangled with yours.

tags

@coal000 @hottrashformarvel @lesqui @hootyhoobuckaroo @buckyforbreakfast @sergeantbarnescaptainrogers @dracris33  @starfisharchives @ragna-wrecked @pingu89 @cauraphernelia @rogrsnbarnes @bucky-smiles @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @occasionalfics @jitterbuck  @torntrashbag

[sir-pyllero]

Keeping Score

My very first Captive Prince drabble is a silly, mostly dialougue based feel-good Modern!AU in which Auguste is dating Nikandros which leads to Laurent meeting Damen and that means Nicaise might soon have four dads.

”Third date, huh? You going to tell him?”

Auguste glanced at Laurent through the mirror. “You know I will,” he replied and wiped the last of the shaving cream off his face.

“And if he’s not okay with it?”

“Then that’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Laurent.”

“Just making sure.”

Auguste sighed. “If he’s not okay with it then there’s no point, is there?”

“But you like him.”

“I do. Which is why I really hope he’s okay with it.”

Laurent hummed. “Just a t-shirt?” he asked when Auguste picked out a black one.

“Yeah, we’re just going out for coffee.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“He’s seen the house, right?”

“He has.”

“So, he knows you could take him to all the Michelin places in the city without making a dent to your bank account?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Well. He just scored a point,” Laurent said, following Auguste out of the room.

“You’re keeping score?”

“Of course.”

“How many points does he have?”

“2.”

“What’s the other point for?”

Laurent smiled. “You like him.”

--

“I, uh… I have to tell you something.”

They had been sitting the in the corner of the café for about an hour when Auguste finally decided to drop the bomb. It was a shame, really, he had enjoyed this date so far, just as much as the first two. Not only was Nikandros easy on the eyes, he was also easy to have a conversation with.

Auguste really, really hoped that he’d be okay with it.

“You’re married.”

Auguste chuckled. “No.”

“Okay, good. You just sounded so serious. The last two times I was told ‘I have to tell you something’ like that were when Damen first told me he was going to propose to his girlfriend and then called to tell me she fucked his brother and he was going to move in with me.”

“Uh…”

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” Nikandros cleared his throat. “You just really did sound serious. I have a habit of… I don’t know… rambling?”

“It’s okay. So, Damen lives with you?”

“Oh, no, not anymore, all that was about a year ago. His new place is right above mine, though... Might as well have stayed with me, I guess, but it does make dating easier not to have someone much better-looking hanging around your corners.”

“He’s not”

“What?”

“Better looking than you.”

Nikandros huffed. “You’ve met Damen.”

“Yes, I see him almost daily. And I think you underestimate yourself.”

“Are you trying to make me blush? I’m a grown man, I don’t blush.”

“Of course not.”

“Didn’t you have something to tell me?”

For almost 30 seconds, Auguste had forgotten that the fast beating of his heart didn’t have much to do with their playful bantering. He took a deep breath, squeezing his empty coffee cup. “Well. I don’t live alone.”

“The house is huge.”

“Yeah…”

“And?”

“…I share it with my son. And my brother.”

Nikandros blinked. “You have a kid.”

“Yeah. He’s 11.”

“You had a kid when you were 20.” Auguste nodded. “Are you divorced? Not that that matters, I’m just… curious.”

“No, it’s uh… It’s bit of a story, actually,” Auguste admitted.

“I have time,” Nikandros shrugged. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to tell me which is fine, too.”

“It’s not a secret. His mother really wanted a baby. We were good friends and we were young and I… offered my services,” Auguste explained. “I figured I’d be the cool dad, you know? The kind that doesn’t have much responsibilities but has him every other weekend and takes him to Disneyworld and buys him whatever he wants. I practically raised Laurent – my brother,” he clarified when Nikandros looked confused. “– so being the fun parent was going to be easy.”

“But he lives with you now?”

“He does. His mother died in childbirth.”

“Oh… fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. My plans changed a bit after that.”

Nikandros nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything for a while and Auguste didn’t try to interrupt his train of thought. He knew that once Nikandros had processed everything, he’d then decide whether to stay or leave, and Auguste took the quiet moment as an opportunity to get ready for both scenarios.

“Can I just ask you something? Sort of personal?” Nikandros asked, his voice breaking the silence.

“Sure.”

“You are from Vere, right?”

“True.”

“And you have a bas… uh… a - a child out of wedlock?”

“Well… It’s not like we’re royalty,” Auguste joked. “But in all seriousness, yeah, it’s still not… preferred, though the people are not as backwards about it as they used to be. But we moved to the States when Laurent was still a kid and even my parents were too thrilled to have a grandchild to care that I didn’t marry his mother.”

“That’s good.”

“It is. And listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I know I should’ve made it obvious from the get go that I’m a package deal and…”

Nikandros silenced him by putting his hand on top of Auguste’s, catching him off-guard. “Don’t think you have to explain to me why you didn’t tell me about your child. I’m sure you had your reasons and I’m sure they’re perfectly reasonable.”

A warm wash of relief went through Auguste and it came out as a smile. Nikandros smiled, too, and it certainly didn’t look like he was going to bolt out of his chair and run. “Thank you.”

“No need. So, what’s his name?”

--

When Laurent opened the door, he most certainly was not expecting a man the size of a fridge to stand behind it. With a blink, he acknowledged he was an insanely good-looking man the size of a fridge.

“Uh… Am I at the right house?” the man asked, looking from his phone to Laurent.

“That depends,” Laurent said. “Are you delivering Chinese?”

“No?”

“Then I think you might have the wrong house.”

“Huh… Right. I’m looking for Nikandros?”

Laurent’s eyebrows shot up. “Nik’s real name is Nikandros?”

“Oh, this is the right house!”

“Is Nikandros out on a date with Auguste?”

“He is, yes. I have his car, so he asked me to pick him up. I’m a bit early, though. I just wanted to make sure I had the right house because… well, wow! I thought my parents’ house was big, but this is more like a mansion. Anyways, now that I know I’m at the right place, I can go wait in the car. Sorry to have bothered you.”

Laurent let the guy take a few steps before making a split-second decision and calling out: “Wait!” The guy turned around. He was smiling. He had a dimple.

Fuck.

“Auguste texted a while ago that he’s going to be late. He told us to order food. We tend to order way too much so… you’re welcome to share. You’re probably going to have to wait a while.”

The guy frowned and took his phone out of his pocket. “That’s weird, Nik didn’t… Oh. He did. Damn.”

Laurent shrugged. “My offer stands.”

“You’re absolutely sure I wouldn’t be a bother? I can just come back later.”

“It’s fine, come on. The food will be here soon.” He stepped aside to let the guy in. “I’m Laurent.”

“Damen,” the guy said. “Damn, this place is even more impressive on the inside,” he continued. “You live here, too?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Veretian?” Damen asked, nodding at some of the decorations as he followed Laurent to the kitchen.

Damen recognizing Veretian style did not make him any less attractive and Laurent had to bite his cheek not to show how impressed he was. “Originally, yeah. We moved here when I was four, though. Hey! Nicaise, dinner will be here soon!”

Nicaise was sitting on the kitchen isle, feet hanging in air and eating chocolate sauce straight out of the bottle. “I’m having dessert first,” he said with a shrug.

“And I’m sure you’ll want dessert after, too.”

“I’m a growing boy. Who’s the brute?”

“He’s a friend of Nik’s. I invited him to share our dinner since your dad’s going to be late. Oh, and hey, you’ll never guess what Nik’s real name is.”

“Nikoangelo.”

“Better. Nikandros.”

“Nikandros?” Nicaise huffed. “Is he Greek?”

“Close,” Damen said. “Akileon. We both are.”

Nicaise frowned. “Aren’t we supposed to hate them?”

“That’s ancient history and you, smart-ass, don’t even have Veretian passport,” Laurent said. “This is Nicaise, by the way. Auguste’s son.”

“I gathered,” Damen said. “I didn’t know Auguste had a son. Nik didn’t say anything, either.”

“He didn’t know, either. He does now, though, and since they’ll be back late, I guess he didn’t run for the hills. That’s another point for him,” Laurent said, the last part directed at Nicaise.

“He’s got 4 now, then.”

“3.”

“No, Dad says he likes dogs. That’s a point.”

“He likes kids, too,” Damen said. Laurent felt a little stab in his gut but masked it with a curious ‘oh?’ “Yeah, I mean. When he talks about future goals, he wants a family. One of our friends has a little daughter and Nik just turns into pudding when she’s around. So… yeah. Auguste having a kid wouldn’t scare him away.”

Laurent felt the corner of his lip pulling upwards. “Well,” he said. “He hasn’t met him yet.”

“Hey. I am perfectly lovable.”

“Mmhm.”

“You love me.”

“I’m obligated.”

“Fuck you. I’ll get it!” Because at that moment, the doorbell rang. “Where’s your wallet?”

“The desk.”

“He uh… He’s a handful, I’m guessing?” Damen said carefully when Nicaise rushed out of the kitchen.

“He’s better when his dad is home. I’m the cool uncle, I can let a few things slide. Beer?”

“I’m driving.”

“Hm. Well, that’s a point to you,” Laurent said. “Water, coke, root beer?”

“Water’s fine. And why would I need points?”

“You never know.”

“Then I’d like to mention that I absolutely love dogs.”

Laurent’s heart made a delighted little jump. It surprised him enough that he was sure his cheeks flushed red and he turned to the fridge to take out two water bottles and a cola for Nicaise. “So…” he said when he turned back to face Damen. “What do you do? For living?”

“I’m an architect. I work with Auguste, actually. Or, for him,” Damen replied. “That’s how they met. Nik and Auguste.”

“Ah. You’re Damianos.”

“Well, that sounds even sillier than Nikandros,” Nicaise declared before Laurent could explain how he knew Damen’s real name.

“That’s rude,” Laurent chastised. “Was it the cute one?”

“Yup.”

“How much did you tip him?”

“You’ll sleep better if you don’t know.”

“Nicaise…”

“What? He’s a student with a student loan! I did a good deed! When I die, I’ll come back as a noble steed for my good karma!”

Damen laughed out loud at that, causing both Laurent and Nicaise to turn to him. “You can’t argue with that logic.”

Nicaise grinned. “See? Even the brute agrees. Can I eat in the living room?”

“Go ahead.”

Nicaise loaded his plate with a lot more food than he would probably eat and normally Laurent would have told him to leave half of it, and come back if he was still hungry after eating the first half. Now, however, he was strangely glad that Nicaise would most likely stay out of the kitchen for at least half an hour.

”You know about me?” Damen asked when Nicaise was out of sight.

“Auguste has mentioned you, yes.”

“Oh God. He’s complained about me, hasn’t he?”

“As a matter of fact, I think he’s rather impressed with you.”

Damen whooped. Laurent found it quite adorable and for that, he internally shook his head at himself.

“That’s a relief. I thought him not telling me that he has a son was an indication that I was on some sort of a black list,” Damen said.

“That’s not it, trust me. He’s just insanely protective of Nicaise. We both are,” Laurent explained.

“But you invited me in,” Damen pointed out.

“You’re friends with Nik and he’s a good guy so… Yeah, I invited you in.” Not to mention I want to stroke your hair and put my finger in your dimple. Laurent cleared his throat. “Take whatever you want. I like everything.”

Laurent was sure a guy of Damen’s size could eat a whole lot more than what he put on his plate, but he didn’t want to stomp on his subtle way of being polite. They made small talk of Laurent’s history studies and why he hadn’t taken the family route to be an architect. They touched the subject of Damen’s brother taking over their family’s company but Laurent didn’t probe when Damen changed the topic quite quickly. Nicaise appeared at some point to declare he wanted ice cream but was quickly off again with his full bowl to watch what Laurent was quite was not an appropriate movie for a boy for his age.

“I get why you’re fond of him,” Damen said.

“Other than the fact that he’s my nephew?”

“Well, yeah. I know lots of people who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about their nephews.”

“Hm. Me, too.”

“So I think it’s cool, you know. This little family unit that you have going on. You’ve clearly made it work,” Damen said, smiling.

“We have. Which is why we’re very careful about who we let in it,” Laurent said.

“Nik’s a good guy, I swear.”

“I believe you. Are you?”

Damen’s expression changed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you already scored a point since you absolutely adore dogs,” Laurent said, quoting Damen from earlier. “And you’ve managed to score a few more in a very short amount of time, if you’d be interested to… take advantage of that.”

“You’re the younger brother of my boss,” Damen said. “We really should just stay friends.”

“Friends. Is that what you want?”

“I work for your brother, Laurent.”

“He won’t mind. If you really are a decent person, he’ll probably encourage it,” Laurent said. “Just tell me, if Auguste wasn’t your boss, would you hesitate?”

Damen shook his head, no. “I’d have already asked you out.”

“Then ask me out.”

Damen took the tiniest step forward. Laurent’s felt a thrill go through him, and that was a new, exciting feeling that he really wanted to explore.

“Will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” Laurent replied right away. “I just – I don’t have the option to hide my family from you anymore, so to speak. So before a… date? turns into anything more, I have to make absolutely sure that you are in fact a good guy. You’ll have to patient with me. I’m telling this to you now because we’ve known each other for 20 minutes and it’ll be less awkward for you to just decline and walk away. I won’t be easy. In any aspect of dating. Even this – what we’re doing now - is actually foreign ground for me.”

Laurent took a deep breath after his little speech, sure that his cheeks were flaming. Damen was smiling so that his dimple was very visible, and Laurent swore he could drown in those eyes.

“I’ll do my best to make sure you never have to doubt that I’m a good guy. How’s that sound?” he asked.

“That sounds… great. Great.”

“Good. A date, then? Dinner?”

“Yeah, that…”

“I’m home! Where are you, there’s someone I… Oh. Hi, Damen!”

Auguste came into the kitchen then with Nikandros behind him. He paused to take in the two plates on the kitchen counter and raised his eyebrows at Laurent in silent question. Laurent shrugged, but failed to keep the tiny smile off his face.

“Damen didn’t see Nik’s text until he was already here, so I invited him to share the food,” he said, opting for the truth as an explanation. “Nicaise is watching something R-rated in the living room.”

“I’ll throw you under the bus if his teachers complain about his language again.”

“Of course.”

“Anyways, uh… Laurent. Meet Nik. Officially,” Auguste said, stepping aside a little so that Laurent could shake hands with Nikandros. “Nik, this is Laurent.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nikandros said politely.

“Likewise,” Laurent replied. He did smile, but at the same time he hoped his eyes communicated that even though he was the younger brother, he’d have no problem kicking Nikandros’ ass should the need arise. To his benefit, Nikandros seemed to understand, as he offered a little nod as an assurance.

During their silent exchange, Auguste had brought Nicaise back to the kitchen. The boy was still a little small for his age and looked even smaller next to his dad, who competed with Damen in size. Quite a lot of his confidence had been left on the couch, and he pressed himself close to Auguste as Nikandros offered his hand.

“Nicaise, this is Nik. You’re going to see a lot of him from now on,” Auguste said, putting his hand thought Nicaise’s curls.

Nicaise stayed silent for a moment, eyeing Nikandros suspiciously. When he finally spoke, what he said was: “Damen’s real name is sillier than yours.”

Auguste made a sound to probably scold Nicaise, but it died when Nikandros just burst into laughter, which scored him another point in Laurent’s book.

“It is, isn’t it?” (“Hey!”)

“If you ever move in here, can we get a puppy?”

“We’ll make it our mission to make your Dad agree.”

“Okay. Can I go now?” Nicaise asked Auguste.

“Yeah. But you won’t finish that movie!” Auguste called after him as Nicaise disappeared. “He’ll warm up,” he said to Nikandros.

“That’s better than what I dared to hope. I thought he’d lock himself inside his room,” Laurent said.

“It’s a win, then?” Nikandros asked.

“Definitely,” Auguste confirmed. “Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep Damen waiting any longer.”

“There’s still food,” Laurent hurried to say. “You didn’t have dinner, right? You can finish this and we’ll… we’ll give you a little while longer? To… finish… your date?”

Auguste took the hint before Nikandros, who was frowning now, did. “Are you hungry?” he asked, and Nikandros blinked.

“I could eat.”

“Great! We’ll be…” somewhere you can’t see us “…in the garden.”

Laurent only stopped to turn the TV off (which earned him a “oh, come on!) because Nicaise hadn’t obeyed Auguste and led Damen out to the backyard and to the little secluded area behind some rose bushes where he liked to read. The bushes were also conveniently tall so that they could not be seen from the first floor of the house.

“Did you turn their first date into our first date?” Damen asked, amused.

“We’ll call this a pre-date?” Laurent offered. He was a little breathless.

“I’ve never had one. What does it entail?”

“I was thinking… if you don’t mind… a kiss? Because I think I might panic and it’s better to get it out of the way now so that it doesn’t ruin our actual…”

“Why would you panic?”

Laurent paused, realizing that little slip was quite a lot more than what he wanted to reveal to someone who was still practically a stranger.

This once, however, he chose not to turn back and retreat.

“Not now,” he said instead of fleeing. “Maybe… one day, okay?”

“Okay.” Damen pushed a strand of Laurent’s hair behind his ear. It was such a gentle touch, unlike what Laurent would expect of someone of Damen’s stature, and that in itself was strangely assuring. “I’ll kiss you now. Just push if you don’t want it.”

He was tall, so tall, but Laurent didn’t feel any fear as he closed the distance between them, slowly, giving Laurent every chance to change his mind.

Laurent didn’t, and Damen’s lips were so soft he almost moaned.

And that’s the beginning of how Nicaise suddenly had basically four dads.

[theclouddiver]

Cherry-Colored {YouTuber!AU}

Summary: When Jungkook does not give his boyfriend the attention he needs, Taehyung decides to find a new way to make the younger male notice him.

Pairing: BTS Taehyung x Jungkook Genre: Fluff, Smut Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: SMUT Requested by anon. I never noticed how much I enjoy listening to Exo when writing smut.

Finishing the last few touches of his make-up, Taehyung smirked at his own reflection in the mirror. The young male had spent the last 30 minutes in the bathroom drawing what looked like cherry-colored hickeys across his neck and chest. Taehyung was not an expert at make-up, but fortunately, YouTube was out there to help him. After watching a few tutorials, he had successfully mastered eyeshadows and makeup brushes. A wide grin was plastered across Taehyung’s face and a giddy feeling started to rise in the pit of his stomach when he thought about his plan to trick his long-term boyfriend into thinking that he had gotten hickeys from making out with a stranger. Jungkook, whom he had met at a gaming convention a couple of months back, had never been the type to get jealous easily. Not that Taehyung minded; after all, his boyfriend’s laid-back attitude had saved the couple a lot of arguments about irrelevant things and was a symbol of the strong trust that existed between the two boys like an unspoken promise.

But there was something that Taehyung was slightly annoyed about. Jungkook had been a huge fan of the game Overwatch from the beginning of their relationship. This, in itself, did not pose a problem; after all, Taehyung was a professional gamer himself and regularly uploaded Let’s Plays and gaming guides on his personal YouTube channel. Although Taehyung preferred action-adventure games such as Final Fantasy and The Legend of Zelda (when Breath of the Wild came out, Taehyung didn’t leave the house for three consecutive days because he was so into the game), the older boy had spent many hours watching Jungkook play Overwatch, and even joined a few battles every now and then. But recently, Jungkook’s obsession with his favorite game had been too much: the younger male had basically become one with his computer, and at this point Taehyung started to wonder whether he was more important to Jungkook or his gaming equipment.

Of course, Taehyung knew the answer, but he still wanted to test his boyfriend and chastise Jungkook for not spending enough time with him. And that’s where his idea  of doing the hickey prank on Jungkook came from. After days of debating whether his plan would work and a few stressful hours in front of shelves filled with make-up articles which seemed like an enigma to Taehyung, he was finally ready to trick his boyfriend into thinking that he kissed another man. With a last look into the mirror and an excited glint in his eyes, Taehyung turned off the lights in the bathroom and eagerly made his way over to the couch in the living room to wait for Jungkook to return home from buying groceries from the convenience store next door.

Time seemed to test his patience by ticking by at a slower pace. The boy’s fingers tapped against the armrest impatiently as he pulled out his phone from his pocket and started scrolling through his Facebook. Of course, like always when he needed to kill time, his feed was devoid of any interesting posts. Only a few minutes had passed, but Taehyung felt as if he had been sitting in the living room for half an hour already. How long did Jungkook need to get the few things on the shopping list?

Just when Taehyung started debating the likelihood of a kidnapping incident targeting the most handsome person in the grocery store - which, undoubtedly, would target his boyfriend - said person stepped over the threshold of the apartment and closed the front door behind him. “I’m back,” Jungkook briefly announced himself and made his way over to the kitchen. The giddy feeling in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach returned since he knew that the younger boy would have to pass the living room on his way to the kitchen. Finally, Taehyung’s efforts to prepare his little “surprise” for his boyfriend would pay off.  As soon as Jungkook appeared in the doorframe, Taehyung stretched out his arms to welcome the younger boy with a hug. “Kookie, come over here. I’ve missed you.”

With a chuckle, Jungkook came closer and pecked the older boy’s lips, two heavy bags in his hands. Taehyung’s arms automatically wrapped around his boyfriend. “What are you talking about? I was gone for less than an hour. Instead of complaining about how much you’ve missed me, you could have come with me.” “To be the one carrying the heavy stuff and paying for all your snacks? Not going to happen,” Taehyung commented jokingly. He let himself fall on his back, inviting the younger boy to come cuddle with him on the couch. But instead of following Taehyung’s invitation, Jungkook walked straight into the kitchen. “Sorry, Hyung. There are a few things that need to be put into the fridge. Actually, can you come help me? I told my friends that I would join them in this important battle, and the faster I am done with this,” he said while shaking the bags in his hands for emphasis, “the better.” Taehyung rolled his eyes, barely able to suppress an annoyed groan. Of course, the first thing Jungkook wanted to do after coming back was playing Overwatch. Again. With a sigh, the older boy stood up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen counter where Jungkook had placed the two bags filled with groceries. If his boyfriend did not want to cuddle with him, Taehyung mused, he would have to be more obvious about his “surprise”. Jungkook was already in the middle of putting things into cupboards, shelves and the fridge. A pout on his lips, Taehyung snuck his arms around Jungkook’s waist. “Playing that game again? Can’t you wait a little, so that we can do something together first? Maybe we can watch a movie or check out that new shopping mall a few minutes from-“ Jungkook put down the cup of instant noodles in his hands and interrupted the older boy impatiently. “Tae, I told you that this season of battles is really important to me. Just let me play today, and we can do something together on the weekend, okay?” To be honest, Taehyung had not expected to hear anything else. Jungkook always found a way to refute Taehyung in situations like these. But today, Taehyung hoped to get a different reaction from Jungkook. Not wanting to give up, he asked, “Promise?” “Yeah, sure,” Jungkook replied, not paying much attention to Taehyung’s request. “Look into my eyes when you make a promise,” Taehyung whined, tugging at the hem of Jungkook’s shirt. Finally, the Jungkook turned around with a sigh, finding Taehyung’s gleaming eyes. “I promise that I’ll be all yours this weekend and that…,” Jungkook trailed off, distracted by the sight in front of him. Only now he noticed the cherry-colored spots on his boyfriend’s skin, and he was not sure what to make of them. “What are these,” Jungkook asked softly. Taehyung’s heartbeat sped up as soon as he heard these words. Although he wanted to smirk because his plan was finally working, Taehyung reminded himself that his plan had only just started and that everything depended on his acting skills from now on. “Um, nothing,” Taehyung lied while shrugging his shoulders and trying to look unaffected. “I must have bumped into something when I cleaned up our gaming equipment earlier. Seriously, you should put the controllers on the shelf as soon as you stop playing next time.” Jungkook only grunted at Taehyung’s remark and shifted his attention back to the task of putting the groceries away. He got very quiet, trying to decipher the meaning behind his boyfriend’s appearance. Were these red, purple spots really what he thought them to be…? Taehyung could almost feel how the younger boy’s gaze drifted back to his neck every now and then. When the two men had finished sorting the groceries, Jungkook suddenly turned to Taehyung, a blank expression on his face. “Do they hurt,” he demanded to know, nodding towards the red spots on his boyfriend’s neck.

“Just a little,” Taehyung admitted, raising his hand to touch his skin right below his jawline, hoping that he did not smudge any of the eyeshadow in the process.

The younger boy leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at Taehyung. Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, a clear sign that he was starting to feel annoyed. “Are you sure that you got them from cleaning up? They don’t look like bruises to me.” Taehyung shifted his stance uncomfortably, trying to avoid his boyfriend’s piercing eyes. “I don’t know how else I would have gotten them… I didn’t really notice until now.” He wanted to exit the kitchen, when Jungkook held him back.

“Stay here,” Jungkook called, voice calm but a little louder than usually. “What were you doing while I was gone?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung spoke truthfully. “I stayed here and waited for you. What else would I be doing, Kookie?” Taehyung was not prepared when Jungkook reached for his wrist and pulled him closer. Jungkook’s grip was strong, not planning on letting the older male go until Jungkook’s questions were answered. “And you were alone the entire time? You didn’t invite anyone over - say, one of your friends, or Jimin?”

Taehyung frowned, trying to shake off Jungkook’s fingers around his wrist, but failing almost immediately. Then it dawned on him. Was Jungkook suspecting that he had invited their neighbor over to their home while Jungkook was gone?

 Park Jimin had been their neighbor since Jungkook and Taehyung had moved into this apartment to live together a few months ago. The three of them had gotten along well since the very beginning, or so Taehyung had thought. They had invited Jimin over to watch a movie before, and Jimin had also cooked for them on one occasion. Both Jungkook and Taehyung agreed that Jimin was one of the most beautiful men they had ever met - but only now Taehyung realized that Jungkook might be jealous. That would explain why Jungkook pushed Taehyung into their shared apartment whenever they met Jimin in the hallway and why Jungkook had offered to do the groceries lately. With a lot of difficulty, Taehyung suppressed the grin that made the corners of his mouth twitch when a new strategy crossed his mind.

“I might or might not have invited Jimin over - I mean, we are neighbors, after all, what’s wrong with that? I would be bored without you anyway,” Taehyung pretended to admit. Of course, he hadn’t talked to or even seen their neighbor all day today. He just wanted to test how far he could take it before Jungkook would snap.

Jungkook snorted in reply to Taehyung’s comment, getting more upset by the second. Not loosening his grip on Taehyung’s wrist, he tried to extinguish the rising flames of anger licking against his insides like wild beasts waiting for a chance to be released. “And what did the two of you do while I was gone? It doesn’t look like you were bored this time. Answer me,”  Jungkook demanded when Taehyung looked to the ground, clearly growing uncomfortable under Jungkook’s controlling gaze. “It’s nothing, Jungkook. I told you I was cleaning up when something-,“ Taehyung tried to explain, but was cut off by his angry boyfriend before he could even finish his sentence. “Don’t lie to me, Hyung. I am not blind. I can tell hickeys from bruises. And these… things on your neck don’t look like bruises at all. I might be younger than you, but I am not a fool. Now tell me where the fuck you got them from.” Jungkook was no longer trying to control the anger that spilled from his heart like icy waves on a stormy sea. His voice was louder than usually and the neighbors might hear, but the young man didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was finding out the identity of the person who had given Taehyung these ugly-looking spots so that he could either vent his negative feelings on them or Taehyung. Taehyung winced at the sound of his boyfriend’s sharp voice. He had never seen Jungkook so upset before, but under the passionate emotion was also a hint of disappointment. Disappointment at the realization that the man Jungkook had trusted the most might have betrayed him. 

Taehyung did not want to reveal the truth of the situation yet, so he continued to pour fuel on the fire. “I am telling you, it’s nothing. Yes, I invited Jimin over. We ended up trying out that new app I downloaded earlier, the one that’s similar to truth and dare and… um…,” Taehyung trailed off, hoping that Jungkook would take the bait.

Jungkook swallowed hard. “Don’t tell me that kissing was part of the game.” Taehyung bit his lower lip, unfounded guilt apparent on his face. Once more, Taehyung tried to break free from Jungkook’s grip, but the younger male was stronger than him and did not let him escape until he was finished with the conversation. “It’s really not what it looks like, Jungkook. It was just a game, nothing serious. Please, don’t fuss about it.” “Don’t fuss about it? What should I do instead, then? Sitting on the couch pretending to be all fine while my boyfriend makes out with our neighbor? Are you serious, Taehyung?” Finally, Jungkook let go of Taehyung’s wrist, clenching his fists instead. His expression was one of hurt, anger and disappointment. He didn’t want to stay in this stuffy apartment any longer; he needed to get some fresh air and let off his steam. When he tried to exit the kitchen though, Taehyung stepped in his way, desperately trying to hold the younger man back from leaving like this. “Kookie, listen. I am really sorry. I know it should have never happened, and that it’s my fault, but I am really sorry. Please, don’t leave right now. You are so important to me, and there is nobody that I love more than you!” Despite Taehyung’s plea to stay, Jungkook pushed his boyfriend to the side and strode towards the front door, feet hitting the floor angrily with each step. “You should have thought about that before inviting that prick Jimin over. I told you that I am not fine with dating a cheater.” Taehyung ran past Jungkook, blocking the front door to prevent his boyfriend from exiting. But when Jungkook had finished putting on his jacket and shoes and was greeted with the sight of Taehyung, arms spread out and a wide grin on his face, Jungkook’s vexation returned twice as powerful as before. “Is this a joke to you, Kim Taehyung? Are you seriously thinking your stupid smile is just going to fix this?” Jungkook spat out, clenching his teeth to prevent himself from yelling. Taehyung suppressed a giggle, finding the upset figure of his boyfriend amusing, ironically. It was finally time to resolve the tense situation. He jumped forward to give Jungkook a hug, but was pushed away before he could wrap his arms around the younger boy. “Kookie, listen. Of course I am not serious. It’s a prank.” Jungkook was still struggling to get out the door, but before he could push down the handle completely, he paused for a moment, trying to comprehend the meaning of Taehyung’s words. Still worked up from their argument, he could only bring out an irritated “What?!” Taehyung laughed out happily, taking Jungkook’s hand in his. This time, Jungkook did not pull back immediately. “Trust me, it’s not real! It’s just eyeshadow. Look, you can even wipe it away.” He gave a quick demonstration of rubbing over on of the cherry-colored marks and smudging the fake hickey. “See, just like this.” Jungkook did not believe his boyfriend’s words and needed to convince himself of the truth first. He licked his thumb to moisten it with saliva and rubbed over one of the red spots on Taehyung’s neck. As Taehyung had promised, the mark disappeared under his touch. Taehyung tried to turn away, disgust written all over his face. “Stop it, Jungkook. I don’t want to have your saliva all over me.” “Oh, shut up, Hyung,” Jungkook replied, annoyance evident in his voice. He reached for Taehyung’s arm to pull the older male closer and repeated the same motion of moistening his finger and wiping another fake hickey away as a heavy sigh escaped his lips. “You must be kidding me, this is so stupid.” Another laughter was heard when Taehyung managed to free himself from Jungkook. “Well, you are not wrong. I am kidding you right now, and you totally fell for it!” An angry grunt was heard and Taehyung ran away into the living room to escape Jungkook who was following him closely. Countless giggles fell from Taehyung’s lips as he was trying to dodge his boyfriend who was chasing him through the entire apartment. When Taehyung was close to running out of breath, he plopped down onto the couch in the living room, but instead of having the chance to regain his breath, he was pressed down into the soft cushions when Jungkook threw himself onto Taehyung. “Gotcha! Don’t try to run away, I am not done with you yet!” Before Taehyung could protest, Jungkook caught the older boy’s wrists and slid them overhead, pinning Taehyung beneath him. With his free hand, Jungkook poked Taehyung’s side, making him squirm from the ticklish sensation. As much as Taehyung tried to struggle free from his boyfriend’s torturous movements, Jungkook’s many visits to the gym did not go unnoticed, causing the younger man to dominate Taehyung with ease.

“K-kookie, s-stop,” Taehyung tried to argue breathlessly.  

As Taehyung’s chest was rising and falling heavily, small whimpers escaping his innocent lips, Jungkook’s eyes suddenly turned a shade darker. “Don’t tell me what to do, Hyung,” Jungkook reprimanded, a small frown on his face. “You can’t imagine how scared I was just now. I really thought that I would lose you.” “S-sorry,” Taehyung apologized, still struggling to pump enough air into his exhausted lungs. “I didn’t mean to scare you, really. It’s just that you have been so distant to me lately, always playing Overwatch as soon as you come back. I… I didn’t know how else to get your attention.” The last sentence came out no louder than a whisper. Taehyung looked up at Jungkook apologetically, eyes shining with sincerity. Jungkook lifted one of his eyebrows, looking at his Hyung skeptically. “Don’t you think you went a step too far though?” Jungkook bent down to Taehyung’s face, now only millimeters aways from Taehyung’s ear. “Making me believe that you kissed another man… that wasn’t the best way to communicate with me.” A shiver ran down Taehyung’s spine when he felt Jungkook’s hot breath tickling his sensitive skin.

Instead of replying to his boyfriend’s accusation, Taehyung let out a shaky breath, feeling waves of heat spread throughout his body. Seeing Taehyung so fragile beneath him, tired from their little chase, gave Jungkook a lot of satisfaction. In the blink of an eye, Jungkook’s lips attached themselves to Taehyung’s neck, placing hot, needy kisses along Taehyung’s chest and making the older male moan in delight. Jungkook paused for a moment when he reached Taehyung’s collarbone. He pecked the soft kiss right above and suddenly sucked the skin harshly. Taehyung’s hands flew to Jungkook’s head, fingers wrapping around black strands of hair. “You’ve been bad to me,” Jungkook mumbled, continuing to leave hickeys - real ones, this time - across Taehyung’s skin. “I should punish you for your bad behavior.”

“I am sorry, Kookie. I’ll do anything you want,” Taehyung whispered, rocking his hips upward to let Jungkook know just how ready he was to receive his punishment. Even through the fabric of both of their pants, Taehyung could feel Jungkook’s growing bulge. The Overwatch battle Jungkook had been talking about earlier was long forgotten.

Jungkook moved away from Taehyung’s neck and connected their lips in a hungry, passionate kiss. When Taehyung opened his mouth to mutter the younger boy’s name, Jungkook took advantage of the moment and slipped his tongue inside. Taehyung’s face was flushed from both exhaustion and arousal, and he wanted nothing more than to feel  his boyfriend’s touch and body. But when Taehyung tried to sneak one hand under Jungkook’s t-shirt, Jungkook shoved Taehyung’s fingers aside, a low growl falling from his lips. He broke the kiss and sat up slightly to look into Taehyung’s eyes. “From now on you will listen to me, Hyung. I want you to get up from this couch and strip for me, now would you?” Taehyung bit his lower lip and nodded in defeat. Although Jungkook was usually not as commanding, Taehyung enjoyed the change in his boyfriend’s temper, growing more excited to find out what Jungkook’s sudden confidence would lead to. After Jungkook had given Taehyung room to move, the latter got up from the couch slowly. Taehyung knew that although Jungkook seemed to be in control, it was not only the young boy who could tease him.

Jungkook was now sitting in the center of the couch, head leaning against the headrest, legs spread, erection boldly noticeable through the boy’s black jeans. At the delicious sight of his boyfriend spread out like this in front of him, a satisfied smirk appeared on Taehyung’s face. He raised one hand and ran his fingers through his hair after making sure to establish eye contact with Jungkook, lustful gaze meeting desirous eyes. Taehyung’s hand moved lower, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt and pulling it down just a bit, teasing Jungkook who wanted, needed to see more. Taehyung’s grin only widened when he noticed that Jungkook’s hand had wandered to his crotch, palming his growing erection through his pants. Jungkook’s breath quickened when Taehyung’s hands moved even farther down south, now grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head ever so slowly. An impatient growl escaped from Jungkook’s lips when Taehyung took longer than necessary to get rid of the piece of clothing.

Taehyung threw his shirt on the floor, moving on to the hem of his grey sweatpants. As his fingers played with the string at the front of his pants, Taehyung started swaying his hips seductively, to a rhythm that only existed in his head. Instead of removing his pants, Taehyung decided to tease Jungkook a little more by stroking his own cock through the soft, grey fabric. The delicious friction caused Taehyung’s head to fall back, eyes squeezed shut as a shaky moan escaped the man’s lips. “Fuck,” he could hear his boyfriend mutter on the couch, clearly as tuned on as he was himself. “Baby, if you don’t remove your fucking pants this second, you will regret it later.” “Someone’s impatient,” Taehyung chuckled, but obeyed his boyfriend’s demand. The piece of clothing hit the floor and Taehyung looked up to search Jungkook’s eyes, waiting for more instructions. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Come over,” Jungkook grunted, displeased by Taehyung’s teasing. When the older male stood in front of him, he added, “Down on your knees, Hyung. I want you to suck my dick, and I need you to suck me good.”

“With pleasure,” Taehyung murmured in agreement when he dropped to his knees in front of the younger boy. Taehyung unbuttoned his boyfriend’s pants before pulling down the zipper, feeling Jungkook’s growing bulge under his touch. He finally pushed down the black fabric, a pleased smile spreading on Taehyung’s face when he saw the wet spot on the front of Jungkook’s shorts. “Fuck, Jungkook. You’re so ready for me to put my lips around your beautiful cock, aren’t you?”

“S-shut up, Hyung. Just hurry up and suck me off,” Jungkook replied, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Usually, Taehyung was the dominant one when they made love to each other, and even when Jungkook was more commanding than usually, Taehyung made sure to tease his boyfriend as much as he could. But seeing the desperate look on Jungkook’s face sent shivers of arousal down to Taehyung’s core, and he wanted nothing more than to make the man sitting in front of him feel good. Taehyung quickly yanked down Jungkook’s underwear, purring excitedly when he saw Jungkook’s throbbing dick spring free. There were already a few drops of precum shining on the tip and when Taehyung bent forward to lick it off, he could feel just how hard Jungkook was under him. As soon as Taehyung’s tongue wrapped around his dick, Jungkook’s head feel back and hit the headrest. Moans of pleasure fell from his lips as Taehyung worked magic on him. Jungkook clenched his fists next to his sides, trying to control the waves of electricity flowing through his body. But when Taehyung’s tongue wrapped around his shaft, sucking particularly harsh, his pretty eyes looking up to him all dark, Jungkook’s hips bucked upward and his hands flew to Taehyung’s head, gripping his hair and pulling Taehyung closer to where he needed his touch the most. “Ah, fuck,” Jungkook whined, “Stop teasing already, Hyung. I want you to suck me harder.”

Taehyung let his tongue glide over Jungkook’s cock a couple more times, alternating between hollowing his cheeks and sucking harshly to send him over the edge faster. Before Jungkook could grow any more impatient, Taehyung placed his two strong hands on Jungkook’s knees, caressing the soft skin of the young boy as he slowly moved his hands upward. With one hand, he reached for Jungkook’s balls and stroked them playfully with is fingers. Without warning, he suddenly started to suck harder, faster. Taehyung’s name mixed with a variety of curses spilled from Jungkook’s lips as he closed his eyes and gave himself to the pleasure cursing through his veins. He gripped Taehyung’s hair tighter, pushing his head further down. “A-ah, Hyung, I-I’m so close,” Jungkook managed to say, hips bucking upward furiously. Although Taehyung started feeling the gag reflex every time Jungkook’s dick was hitting the back of his throat, he didn’t slow down but instead increased his efforts to drive Jungkook closer to the edge by humming contentedly. Taehyung’s full lips wrapped around his cock, his fingers playing with his balls and the sweet vibrations of Taehyung’s voice were too much for Jungkook. His orgasm hit seconds later, causing the young man to quiver in pleasure and screaming out Taehyung’s name. Taehyung continued sucking  and swallowing every precious drop of Jungkook’s love nectar until his boyfriend twitched under him, sensitive due to overstimulation.

Taehyung removed his lips with a popping sound, staring at the sight in front of him with awe. Jungkook’s chest was rising and falling heavily, his face flushed and eyes full of bliss. The fucked-out look suited him extremely well, Taehyung thought. Taehyung got up from the carpet and bent forward to peck Jungkook on the forehead. “Was I good,” Taehyung asked smugly but gave a loud groan when he felt Jungkook’s fingers wrap around his still erect dick through the fabric of his shorts. Taehyung looked at Jungkook with half-lidded eyes, arousal and pleasure spreading in the pit of his stomach. A smirk was on Jungkook’s face when he spoke. “Don’t think that I forgot about you, babe. It’s your turn now, and I won’t go easy on you.”