#and it’s so hard to make connections because you’ve spent so long hiding yourself and you don’t know how to stop

[takemetodragonstone]

thinking about my future, all i really want out of life is financial stability, a life-partner to build a home with, and a close-knit community of friends. when i try to imagine what happiness would look like for me, it’s a warm, crowded room full of laughter and people i love and trust. that’s it. seems so simple. so why does it feel so far out of reach?

[antiwhores]

The rubble smells underneath this building. The smell of dirt, dust, and suit. It’s intoxicating, almost. What’s more intoxicating? Katsuki Bakugou’s scent as you straddle him.

About 2 minutes ago, a building started to fall down right in Bakugou’s path. You were both fighting a villain with a quirk thats almost as destructive as Bakugou’s.

The villain went down but the villain decided that so would you guys. So in one last petty move, he dropped a building when Bakugou was distracted.

You dove towards him, scared to see your agency leader die. Especially since you harbored feelings for him ever since you met him 5 years ago.

You knew that you couldnt make it out in time so in quick thinking you threw yourself on top of him and redirected yourself to an area where you didn’t think that I’d fall on you guys.

It was a close call because it was a tight enough space just to fit the both of you.

“HEY!”

Who the hell is he yelling at?

“Wake up, dumbass! Shit, shit, shit… please be alive.”

You forced your eyes, that you didn’t even know were closed, open. You’re straddled on top of him, with your head on his chest. He’s against a wall, looking down at you with a look that you’ve never seen on him before. It quickly turned to relief.

“Holy shit,” he tightened the hands around your waist, “if you would have died I’d have fucking killed you.”

You moved the get off of him but he stopped you. “Theres no room, you’ll bump your head.”

You groaned at the situation, “Fuck.”

“Ex- fucking - actly, this shit sucks.”

As your brain begins to unfog, you start to digest the situation. Panic runs through your body as you wiggle your body.

“What the hell? Stop panicking.” He attempts to still you but you continue to flail.

“Im fucking claustrophobic! I’m gonna loose my shit!”

Tears well up in your eyes when your back hits against the concrete rock behind you for the 10th time.

“Fuck, you’re gonna- fucking stop!”

You only stop when you hear a grunt escape his lips. You blush as the realization comes to you. You’d been grinding against him while trying to get out. He blushes back, grabbing your head and forcing it on his chest.

“God, here- just lay your head down. You’re right on my dick doing that shit.”

Your heart is beating out of your chest. You cant tell if it’s from the fact that your boss is hard against your clothed regions or the situation of being stuck for god knows how long.

“Im sorry, I-“

“It’s fine, it’ll go away. Just stop moving.”

But will it? The way he’s feeling right now with your tits pressed against him and his dick against your crotch doesn’t seem to be fading. He can practically feel the heat radiating from your pussy.

After 5 minutes of silence, he thinks he’s gonna go crazy. His dick is still hard and you’re still on top of him trying your best to not move. The pressure of you against him is unfortunately enough to keep it hard and its driving him nuts.

You both speak at the same time.

“Fuck, can you-“

“What if I help?”

You bury your face deeper into his chest trying to hide your entirely red face.

“What?”

He waits for you to speak, wanting to confirm that you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. You mumble something so low he almost didn’t hear it.

“I wanna help make it go away. If you wanna.”

Bakugou doesn’t speak for what felt like an eternity. Sure, he wanted to take you out on a date. But he thought he could at least wine and dine you before you start getting intimate. His brain is foggy as he thinks about all the late nights he’s spent looking at press photos of you while he strokes himself.

“You don’t have to-“ “But I want to.”

Neither of you say a word as Bakugou tightens his hold on your hips. He pulls you down hard against his cock. You both suck in a breath.

Bakugou curses as he repeats the motion. You begin to grind with him, angling your body so your clit rubs against where you connect.

Its a back and forth effort. You both work towards chasing your highs. One hand leaves your hips and pulls at your hair. He pulls you back to where your neck is exposed to him.

He latches onto your neck, licking and sucking marks into you between groans.

You put a hand over your mouth. The moans that are coming out are getting progressively louder.

“Move your hand.” He demands.

You shake your head. It’s too embarrassing the way you’re moaning like a bitch in heat.

Your eyes almost roll back at a particular harsh thrust. He rips your hand off while you’re distracted. He puts it at your side. “Move it and i’ll bite you.”

You pull at your hero costume. It’s so damn hot.

He takes it as an invitation to pull up your shirt and grab at your tits. He pulls your bra up, “Fuckkk, your tits are so perfect.”

You borderline whine when he sucks on your tit while playing with the other. All while grinding up onto you.

You feel yourself reaching the edge, “Katsuki- Im gonna.”

“Cum for me then.”

Your whole body shakes as your orgasm runs through your body. You shove your mouth against his. The kiss is hurried and hungry.

He only breaks it when his orgasm practically punches him in the face. He grips onto you so hard that theres no way he’s not leaving bruises. He bites into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. He bites so hard that you cry out.

His eyes roll back and a long grown forces itself out.

After you both come down you look each other in the eyes as you breathe heavily.

You’re the first one to break the silence.

“Your eyes are really pretty up close.”

He chuckles, “Go on a date with me and I’ll let you see them even closer.”

[walpu]

Hi, it’s me again!! >_<

When I tell you I gobbled that headcannon post up, I went down on two knees and howled /hj

Anyways, do you think you can do some headcannons on Aventurine with Bodyguard! Reader if you have the time? But this time, with a twist :3

See, reader does care for Aven, you truly do, but before that, you were tasked by Everflame mansion and by Duke inferno himself to kill Aventurine. But you can’t bring yourself to, no, not when you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

When reader does become Aven’s bodyguard, you maintain that serious, no nonsense demeanor, but if he looks closely enough, he’ll see the lovestruck puppy hiding under the hardened shell that they’ve put on.

But the guilt catches up. One day, at least a few months after reader’s betrayal to Duke Inferno, you catch sight of an assassin sent to finish the job they couldn’t do. And so, the secret is finally revealed.

Personally, I think Aventurine would be betrayed, like very, how could he not be? He’s always kept people at an arm’s length away, and when he finally lets you in his walls, and starts falling for thier charm, this secret of yours comes out. He fires you almost immediately, but the way he stares after you with misty eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

The next months were absolute hell. Reader found a new job as a barista, and is quite enjoying the quaint and simply life it provides, even if you do miss Aventuirne. He’s probably still seething at you, right?.

Wrong. Because you’ve gone MIA, Aventurine been scouring all over the place, trying so hard to find you. He’s loosing sleep, forgetting to eat, all things that you would chide him about. Aeons, he misses you so much.

And when he does find you, he’s overjoyed, and when the two finally reunite, the first thing you do is to apologize deceiving him. But he forgave your silly ass a long time ago, why else would he have spent the last months trying to find you?

Long story short, it’s a happy ending, Aventurine couldn’t be more grateful he has you to be his bodyguard, his closest confidant, and most importantly, his lover <33

I’m so sorry if I went on a ramble, but this idea’s been plaguing me so bad I literally can’t focus on anything else 😭😭

I'VE BEEN LOOKING FORWAR TO WRITIG FOR THIS REQUEST SINCE THE MOMENT I SAW IT I ADORE YOUR BODYGUARD!READER x AVEN SERIES btw thank you for sharing the c.ai bot

I feel like the only thing I do with each post is apologize for taking so long but right now I like from work trip to work trip so I'm actually really really sorry this madness should end soon 😭😭😭😭 Hope you'll enjoy this post, it was my goal to finish it before version 2.1

bodyguard/assassin!reader x Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes- gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, no beta

It was not a fast prosses for the both of to form a genuine connection. Moreover, you know goddamn well you shouldn't get attached to him.

And at first it seems easy, like yeah another rich playboy, no big deal, you've delt with people like him before, right? Right??????????????

Yeah until suddenly he's not just a rich playboy.

The more you notice how deeply lonely and unhappy he is, the more your heart softens towards him. And the more your heart softens, the more he relaxes around you, seeing behind your cold exterior.

He's not used to people caring about him. And yes, of course he knows it's your job but still, for a man who never had a real friend before, he surely can appreciate having someone who not only won't leave him but also will listen to him and look after him.

And the part about you being paid to do it? Oh well. It's the same guy who offers you to use him as you wish and who's greeting line is "I can play a role of a friend :)"

Mf is FRIENDLESS, LONELY and PATHETIC /affectionally

He'll take what he can get okay.

But goddamn. Don't think he doesn't notice how you started going out of your ways to take care of him. How you make him eat, tend to his small injuries ("my, my, you're my bodyguard, not a doctor. perhaps someone wants a raise, hm?~"), how you drag him out of casino or his office when it's too late.

It drives him crazy. It's not beneficial for you, right? The w h y.

He won't ask. Instead he will watch and slowly fold.

You are probably suffering tho lol. You should just kill him already, you've had so many opportunities to end him. Instead you spoon feed him soup because he claims he has a hangover after a night in the casino. And this little brat looks so smug about it too!!!!

Sometimes he feels like it's too good to be true: you being here, taking care of him, looking after him. The line between professional relationship, friendship and... something more is way too blurry already, and he knows it's dangerous but it just feels so good. Too good.

Duke inferno gets tired eventually. He sends someone to remind you of your mission. To remind you who you really work for.

Well, the duke receives a warning of his own. The dead body of his little messenger.

You know, of course, that the Everflame mansion thugs are not easily intimidated. They will be back. So you better warn Aventurine and tell him everything.

You can't keep lying to him, can you?

Well. It's surprisingly not as easy as you thought. After all, even if they will send someone, you'll just protect Aven like you always do, right? He doesn't have to know. Not about your past, not about your original mission. He keeps his secrets too, so why can't you?

You know goddamn well why tho. You know and yet you still can't bring yourself to tell him the truth.

It goes on like that for several months and Aventurine notices that something is clearly off, something is bothering his darling protector. He tries to pry, to tease, to cling, to pester you. Something to make you open up. Or, at least, get distracted. He can't help but feel anxious. Why are you suddenly so reversed? Do you want to leave his side? Does he not pay you enough? Does he bother you too much? It eats him alive while he tries to mask it by pestering you even more. As if to test you. As if to make sure that it's not the case.

All the hell breaks loose one day when you discover that Duke inferno has sent another assassin to finish the job.

I you spare the details but yeah, your secret was unraveled. And it wasn't pretty at all.

You have never seen emotions so vivid on Aven's face. Part of you always wanted to see him more vulnerable, more open with you. But not like this. Not this look of utter betrayal.

He collects himself quick enough, hiding behind the mask of mock disappointment.

"Hm, well, I recall mentioning that treachery is just another tool of the trade. But it seems like our little deal is not paying off for me anymore" he says with a cold chuckle, shaking his head a little. "After all, you have very little to offer outside of your dog-like loyalty. But seems like this dog bit both hands that fed it".

You were expecting him to call for your arrest but instead he just fires you. It hurts nevertheless.

What hurts even more is that look he gives you when you part ways. It's like his pretty eyes are even more lifeless now.

At first he feels this overwhelming emptiness. It truly feels like the fate is mocking him. One time, just one time, he allowed himself to relax around someone. Just this one time, with this one person who took care of him, who listened to him, who looked out for him. And this person was supposed to kill him.

Then his stupid brain finds another way to torture him. He keeps thinking about the way you have always protected him, the way you took the hit even during the last attack, when Duke Inferno's new assassin tried to get to him. You were ready to leave your past life behind to stay by his side, weren't you?

As soon as he realizes it he goes frantic. Of course he tries to find you asap but of course someone as competent as you would be able to disappear without a trace in no time. You were an assassin, after all. A skilled one too, since he never even suspected you.

This connection the two of you had, this realization that you really cared enough to betray your client, all of this makes him realize that he needs you so, so much. He needs to feel this care again, he need to look at you again, to know that you're here by his side.

He misses you so much. Your nagging, your reassurance, your touch. He's like an addict who felt what it feels like to love and beloved in return for the first time and now he can't live without it.

He doesn't eat or sleep properly, his head plagued by the thoughts about you. What if you forgot all about him? What if you're wounded? Where are you even? His fingers itch to trace your face and your scars.

He thinks about how you would scold him for not taking proper care of himself and it makes him miss you even more.

Aven finds you after a few months. It was honestly a coincidence, one of his subordinates saw you in the coffee shop you were working at.

He though that finding you will calm him down but seeing you from afar, looking somewhat peaceful and cozy, having a regular job... it's too much. And what if you really don't need him anymore? Maybe you never did? After all, he's painfully aware that he probably needs you much more than you need him.

And yet, he decides to take this risk. He's a gambler, after all.

"Somehow I'm not surprised you're good even at that. How come you have never made me coffee before, hm?"

You literally freeze on the spot after hearing this familiar voice next to you.

When you finally get to talk, you can see he's really trying to look calm and collected but how can he? His hands are shaky and his voice cracks. It breaks your heart.

He doesn't even let you finish your apology, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Hush, darling. All is forgiven. In fact, I even have an interesting proposal. I'm can be a generous man after all".

He can't fool you. Not with this shaky soft voice. And he knows it as well.

Please hug that fool and kiss him. Swear that you won't ever leave him again. Swear that you want to be by his side. As his bodyguard, as his friend, as something more. So much more. That's all he really need to feel like he's at home.

[whoredmode]

On Johnny and Anteros

like i was saying. i’ve been working on something.

There's something inside Johnny and Anteros’ dynamic that has plagued me for the longest time, an element of their relationship that I just haven’t been able to put into words. It, to an extent, can be said of Anteros and his dynamics with other men from SR1 (Dex and Troy), but the key difference here is that Johnny and Anteros never develop any sort of romantic feelings for each other. That, despite everything, the love itself is rooted in friendship. Perhaps something almost fraternal. This feeling being the expression of love and masculinity. 

As I said, this feeling can be seen in Anteros’ relationships with Dex and Troy in SR1/SR2. The walls begin to crumble between the respective partners because of mutual romantic feelings, though each held back by particular hurdles of the time (for Dex, period-typical homophobia and his own closeted feelings keep the two from being as open as they could be, instead left to love each other behind closed doors. Not to mention Dex’s growing feelings of envy towards Anteros for becoming what is essentially Julius’ favorite, a title he’d long been working for and felt most deserving of. For Troy, his own feelings of guilt and inadequacy, as well as fear that Anteros does not reciprocate keeps him from initially moving forward, only reaching their climax after a particular practice fight in the abandoned theater lot. Perhaps the fights were only a means to touch him). But I'll be here all day if I sit down and dissect those two dynamics (though I'd happily do so if anyone wanted to hear about that).

This is about Johnny and Anteros. This is about a man open about his love for other men, his love for his friends, his own relationship with masculinity and femininity. This is about a man who introduces himself by describing his cock, a man who channels his feelings into violence, a man who will never get over the death of his wife (of which he blames himself and the Saints for). 

What do you do when you have all these feelings but no outlet for them? When faced with the one person you wanna confide in, you instead find yourself held back by your own self-doubt and adherence to masculine social norms? In the most basic sense, Johnny and Anteros do not speak the same language. The “I love yous” are only ever said when the other isn’t listening, when the other cannot understand. They do not and maybe will never express their love for each other in a way that makes sense to the other. 

So instead Johnny and Anteros will find themselves in a constant push and pull. They fumble through the motions, doing what they can and hoping the vague conversations can get across what they mean. Johnny’s outlet for his feelings is violence; he struggles to be emotionally open like Anteros is. Violence will give you an end result. Talking about things, as far as he can tell, won’t change anything. He can’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Anteros can. In the same vein, Anteros can’t hide his feelings no matter how hard he might try. He will tell his life story to a stranger. 

The Boss and Johnny Gat are mirrors of each other. And when they look into that mirror, when they look within that reflection, they become more aware of their own faults. 

“The Saints failed me. They failed Aisha. I failed her.” 

“How could I be the leader of the Saints? I’m just some stripper who walked on the wrong street corner.” 

How do you express that when you’ve spent your whole life putting up the mask of machismo, of being the indestructible magnet of power that is Johnny Gat? As Anteros, how do you express that to the one person whose opinion you want most of all, to the person who’s been by your side the longest yet still feels a million miles away? The connections they make will always be fragile. Anyone could die tomorrow. Both understand this well. But neither wants to be alone.

Perhaps the great irony, the echo to Johnny’s toughness, is that Anteros fears appearing weak to Johnny. He needs to be the boss for the Saints. He needs to be the boss for Johnny. 

In many ways, at one point in time, Johnny and Anteros were each other’s last friend in the world. Close enough to comfort. And to hurt. 

We see how Anteros’ decisions weigh down on Johnny as time goes on. During the events and ending of the LoP Story and through the beginnings of SRTT, we see how Anteros changes and how it impacts the people around him. None more so than Johnny. Shaundi and Pierce can adapt. Johnny cannot—in this way once again mirroring Anteros as we knew him in SR2. They are men both haunted by their respective pasts, unable to let go of certain events and people and times. What do you do when you can’t express that to your only friend left in the world? How do you tell him he’s changed? What do you say when the reflection in the mirror is unrecognizable? So many of their actions are rooted in this desire to reach out to the other in the only way they know how, trying to prove to each other that they are what’s worth fighting for, worth loving, that they know they need each other. Johnny is more than capable of showing love. Anteros is more than capable of showing his strength. But they’ve locked themselves in this stalemate, this impasse in which showing vulnerability, insecurity to the other is unthinkable. They need to be strong for the other’s sake. Failure for Johnny manifests as guilt and aggression. Failure for Anteros manifests as humiliation and grief. 

Maybe there isn’t one grand conclusion to it all. As the years go on, as they experience more tragedy and joy together, perhaps the barriers begin to fall gradually. As they hit their 40s in the modern day, I find myself thinking about how similar they’ve grown to be by that point, both bored by the lack of excitement in their lives now that the Saints have a steady hold over Stilwater. In recent years, they’ve found themselves genuinely confiding in each other about that, spending more time together one-on-one, reenergizing the friendship and brotherhood that started all those years ago in 2006. 

I just find it interesting is all. Examining male friendships and love under the expectations of manhood, comparing it to the expression of feelings in romantic relationships. How it impacts them both.

Johnny and Anteros need each other in a way so uniquely theirs that I’ve found it so hard to explain for so long. Maybe I’ve gotten those feelings across. Maybe not—the latter being the more apt answer, ironically.

[snappydragon14]

Part Two

Previous page~

Soar's eyes never left Mictlan's, even as the weight of the silence stretched between them. Her expression remained calm, unflinching, as if she had infinite patience. When she finally spoke again, her words were measured, deliberate, as though she was choosing each one with care.

"I don't expect you to understand everything I’m saying right now," Soar began, her voice soft but steady. "And that's okay. It's not about understanding everything all at once. It's about finding a way forward, even if that path looks different for each of us."

Mictlan blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you saying?"

Soar took a deep breath, her gaze shifting slightly as if she were organizing her thoughts in a methodical, careful manner. "I guess… what I’m trying to say is that I notice patterns, connections that others might miss. Sometimes it makes things clearer, other times it’s overwhelming." She paused, her eyes flickering with a hint of vulnerability before she composed herself again. "But it helps me understand."

Mictlan watched her, something about her tone—her way of thinking—unsettling him, but not in a bad way. "You talk like…" he hesitated, unsure how to put it. "Like you don’t fit in."

Soar gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I’ve never really fit into heaven anyway. I’ve always felt like I was outside looking in. When I see people, I don’t just see their actions—I see why they do what they do, even if they don’t realize it themselves." Her gaze met his again, piercing but gentle. "I see what’s driving you, Mictlan. The hurt, the rage, the isolation. It’s so loud I can’t ignore it."

Mictlan stiffened at her words, the rawness of them hitting too close to home. "And what makes you think that means anything? You seeing things differently doesn’t change what I am."

"It’s not about changing what you are," Soar said, her tone unwavering. "It’s about acknowledging that there’s more to you than the role you’ve forced yourself into. I don’t need you to fit into any neat category, Mictlan. You’re allowed to be complicated. You’re allowed to be contradictory."

There was a pause, and Soar’s gaze shifted again, as if she was analyzing her own thoughts with the same careful precision she applied to everything else. "I know I see the world in a way that’s hard for others to understand. I notice details, I read between the lines, and sometimes… it’s too much. But when it comes to you," her voice softened, "it’s what allows me to see past the war and the violence. To see the person underneath."

Mictlan’s fists unclenched slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he absorbed her words. There was something disarming about how candid she was—how she laid her own struggles bare without hesitation, as if that was just part of who she was.

"I don’t know how to deal with that," Mictlan admitted quietly, almost to himself.

Soar’s lips twitched into a faint smile, not of amusement, but understanding. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. You don’t have to be perfect or even know where to start. Just... let yourself be. No masks, no walls. Just you."

The simplicity of her statement, the lack of expectation, stirred something in Mictlan—something almost like relief. He had spent so long pretending, hiding behind the persona of the God of War, that he had forgotten what it felt like to simply exist without the weight of that identity.

He looked at Soar, his voice rough but quieter than before. "You’re… Wierd."

Soar gave a slight nod. "I’ve been told that before." There was no hint of apology in her tone, only acceptance. "But being different doesn’t mean wrong. It just means I see things from a unique angle. And that’s why I’m still here, Mictlan. Because I see you, not just the warlord everyone else sees."

Her words lingered in the air, a strange comfort settling between them. For once, Mictlan didn’t feel the need to push her away, to reject her words. Maybe, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t have to.

Soar’s eyes lingered on Ike's unconscious form. her breath escaping in a soft sigh as she walked over and crouched down to pick up the once—delirious demon. Her muscles strained slightly as she hoisted him up into a princess carry. Her expression, however, remained unreadable—neutral, perhaps, with a trace of weariness.

Behind her, Mictlan stood, watching with crossed arms, his battle-worn face a mask of satisfaction. The remnants of a victorious sneer played across his lips, Wondering if Ike was actually dead or not. But Soar’s gaze, sharp and calculating, suddenly shifted to his belt.

“Mictlan,” she said, her voice laced with suspicion, “is that one of my feathers around your belt?”

The warlord stiffened, every muscle in his body going taut as his eyes flicked downward. There, dangling from the leather strap around his waist, was a single cream-colored feather—Soar’s feather. It swayed gently in the faint breeze, as if mocking his attempt to conceal it.

Mictlan's usually fierce, commanding eyes widened slightly in panic, betraying a moment of vulnerability he rarely showed. He felt his pulse quicken as his fingers instinctively curled around the feather, his hand moving in one fluid motion to snatch it from sight. He hid it behind his back with an exaggerated flourish, as if that alone would erase the evidence of his act.

“What!? Don’t be foolish!” he barked, his tone a bit too sharp, too defensive. His voice cracked under the weight of his hastily spun lie, and for a second, he appeared more like a child caught in a mischievous act than the hardened warlord he was known to be.

Soar’s narrowed eyes told him she wasn’t buying it.

[alyjojo]

February 🌠 2024 Monthly - Taurus

Preshuffle: Sneaky relationship, sneaky love, sneaky love. Or feelings? Could be that, hiding feelings. It was repeated throughout the whole preshuffle, with no excuses, or no choice.

Meditation: Every meditation is underwater or involving water this month it seems. But you opened your door and I was put into an air bubble, like a balloon 🎈 going up up up, out of the water, a whole new world I could see. But I kept going up, and was taken away by the wind, afraid of what would happen when the bubble pops, impending doom.

Main energy: The Empress

Okay, that’s your energy, and it’s a beautiful expression of nurturing, possible pregnancy, growth in any form, art, beauty, and there’s a celebration clarifying this. Very positive news coming in for you, I do see someone with romantic interest, The Tower at the bottom shows someone is going to shock you with happiness, because whatever’s been going on has been plans that don’t work out, bad cycles, nothing is working. Until all of the sudden, it is ❤️ Strength & 5 Swords came out separately to tell you to chill on any impulses to bite back or get pissy, you could definitely question whatever this is, it seems sudden. Maybe someone just likes you. Maybe they’re kind of an asshole so it’s hard telling? Or they have been before this point.

What’s going on in February:

The Hanged Man:

You’re definitely reconnecting with someone, or maybe meeting/seeing them for the first time (in this way), this could’ve been a long distance or online connection first. If you’ve had plans to get together before, they fell through. I’m seeing you’re under the understanding of something being done, you’ve moved on or gotten over any disappointment, and then The Tower shakes your world like “wait just a minute!” I’m getting surprise, Page of Cups at the end here is a surprise, there’s a fish in their cup, and someone has cute crush feelings for you, but you think there’s no progress, possibility, based on whatever has happened. You may have even stopped talking to this person, or you’re both just busy doing your own thing like okay, that’s not happening, back to life now. Not everyone is romantic, it could be a distant family member/friend surprising you for some.

The World:

With The Tower again, It keeps showing up at the bottom of every row. You had to abandon something for reasons outside of yourself, or they did. The World is bringing things to a close, that’s how it had to be, or someone didn’t have money/circimstances to travel to you, if long distance. There’s an acceptance with this, you didn’t get what you want but there’s nothing you can do about it. 9 Cups at the bottom does show this being what you want. Something good is happening with this, it’s going somewhere.

3 Pentacles:

You’ve been cooperating with each other, or if you’ve spent time apart by choice or not, you’ve both been working on whatever needs to be worked on. They could need your help with something or want your cooperation with whatever they’ve got going on. Temperance shows patience, it may have taken *awhile* for someone to get on their feet after a Tower, which could describe any sort of sudden shocking disaster type of situation. So you’ve both been working and putting effort into life, bills, whatever, you show up as Queen of Pentacles, showing you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and a lot of responsibility you manage just fine. I don’t see any hard feelings here, just difficult circumstances.

King of Cups:

This one makes me chuckle. Someone, I assume this person something didn’t work with, is rushing towards you all passionately, spontaneously, sexy like and heated 🔥 But Spirit shows them as King of Cups, so they are emotionally mature, and they have genuine feelings for you, they’re just wanting to act on them NOW. 9 Cups follows, let’s do this. They could be asking you out, 3 Cups can be a date or a celebration. You’re at the bottom with 50 warning flags 🚩 going up like “ohhhh no you don’t”, you’re not having any romantical, over idealistic love bubble bs, this person better be real with you or you’re going to bite back 😆 Thus the message to restrain your impulse to get suspicious of intentions and pull out a sword Taurus.

They come in peace 👽 At least that I can see. If not romantic, someone wanting to get together & take you out, plan an event, something fun. I don’t think you see it coming.

Page of Cups:

This is cute. Small, but cute. A flirty message, a crush, maybe asking you out, butterflies in the stomach, there’s going to be communication with this person, and Spirit wants you in your feminine, Empress, energy, regardless of gender. Receptive. Just be yourself, no swords ⚔️ required. Accept a compliment, or whatever they’re offering with grace, it’s not suspicious. Either they didn’t know what you wanted, you didn’t know what they wanted, or there hasn’t been any communication up to a certain point and you (probably) were clueless to what this person was planning. Page of Cups can be a happy surprise! It can also be a pregnancy with The Empress so that’s possible, take precautions if you don’t want that. This row can literally be saying that too, have fun buuuut, maybe this person has baby making powers or something. They could be pregnant. For some, it’s just someone that wants to be around you, talk, flirt, catch up, etc. It’s good news no matter what 😊 You could be celebrating the good news and growth of someone else, you just didn’t expect it.

Signs you may be dealing wit the non th:

Pisces, Capricorn, Taurus, Sagittarius & Libra

Oracle: ✨

29 Changes 🍁

Like ripples from the smallest drop of water in a pond, the smallest of changes in one’s life can bring about the greatest rewards. Think about changes you can make in your life. These do not have to be grand, sweeping changes. Judicious, small changes can add up to life changes after time. Think about small changes you can make now to add to your quality of life: clean out clutter, commit to walking every night after dinner, cut out processed food from your life. Alternately - big changes are coming your way.

We enter into February as:

Charmaine Chartreuse 🗣

“I never met a person I didn’t like.”

Charmaine Chartreuse suggests you begin finding the good in others. So much is lost when we do not appreciate those around us, for we lose the wonderful gifts of who they are. Appreciating differences will enrich your present situation. This can be a warning that you’ll lose a valued relationship if you do not appreciate what you have. Thinking the best of another person is more powerful than putting them down. Do not attempt to choose sides. Getting others to agree with you that someone else is wrong will also backfire, you may find yourself alone if you are not thoughtful. Wasting energy focusing on something you shouldn’t is also denoted here. Gossip is an indication you’re not focusing on your own life. What we think may not be the truth of the matter. Be aware now of how you speak of another, for the things you say will come back to you at this time. “Doing your own thing” may leave you lonely, and an aloof attitude may lead others to believe you don’t like them, when that isn’t true. If you’re feeling cut-off, consider that others may be waiting for you, and take a cue from Charmaine, being kind is called for from you, even if others are behaving in an inappropriate way.

What is to be learned in February:

Silver Cloud ☁️:

“Every silver lining has a cloud.”

If confusion is a familiar state for you, then you already know Silver Cloud. Clarity is only available by journeying with him for awhile. Through a willingness to be in confusion, we find clarity. You are to slow down, meditate, contemplate, rest. If you were to know what lies ahead, you might not take on the next task willingly. You’re not supposed to know, you will when it’s time. Bide your time in gratitude and know that clarity will come along the way.

Silver may be a lucky color 🩶

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Long Oneshots (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

2009x2015 Phan (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne)

Summary: A series of interactions between 2009!Phil and 2015!Dan, and 2009!Dan and 2015!Phil. Probably going to result in some smut, and have a very loose plot.

A Human Heart (ao3) - andthenshesaid-write (ladyknight1512)

Summary: Phil's mother has always said that there are creatures in the forest and Phil has always thought they were just stories. Then one day he runs into the forest looking for somewhere to hide and meets Dan, a man with antlers and the ability to talk to trees. Phil's world opens up but there are dangers in the forest that he can't even begin to imagine.

All That You Are is All That I'll Ever Need (ao3) - ficslesters (sohmaskyos), starrywrite

Summary: Dan Howell is just ordinary, but his boyfriend Phil is Amazing(Phil from YouTube). Or, AU in which Dan isn’t a YouTuber.

Before We Turn Into a Monster (With Two Heads) (ao3)- blueshirt

Summary: “Once this case is over, I’m getting a new job. Maybe one where I just sit in my bedroom and make videos about my life. That would be nice,” Dan muses dreamily to himself—or rather, mumbles indistinctly to himself, because it’s a little hard to articulate when you’ve been shoved into the trunk of a moving car, bound, and gagged.

begin and never cease (ao3) - palomeheart

Summary: Dan is a grumpy second year law student living with reclusive, perpetual grad student named Phil. When the holiday season brings out a side of Phil that Dan’s never seen before, Meanwhile, when Phil finds out Dan hates all things festive, he makes it his goal to change Dan’s mind before Christmas. And also to find the perfect mince pie.

I'm Half Doomed And You're Semi-Sweet (ao3) - The_Blonde

Summary: When he was eleven Dan wished for Phil to help with a family curse that there’s no hope of breaking. Fifteen years later he’s stationed in coastal Wales, working the late shift in a supermarket while secretly protecting a whole village from various supernatural beings. Everything is going fine(ish) until Phil, impossibly, shows up.

it's no good (unless it's real) (ao3) - blueshirt

Summary: (Or, the one where Dan accidentally starts reverse-dating Phil in the midst of executing a foreign tour, sharing the world's tiniest mattress, and generally failing at Amish table-making.)

Just the Beat of My Own Heart - howellhaze

Summary: Dan and Phil are rivals in every sense of the word. The problem is that they’re already madly in love. Or, where Dan and Phil fall in love on tumblr, unaware that the person they’re talking to online is the person they hate in real life. A “You’ve Got Mail” AU.

like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere) (ao3) - palomeheart

Summary: Dan is in his second year of uni studying law– or he would be if he hadn’t failed his resits. After being talked into a semester-long leave of absence to get his life in order, he takes a job at the café of a local botanic garden through a flatmate’s family connection. Or so he thinks.

super soul (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: Phil has spent his whole life believing that meeting his soulmate will give his life the meaning he’s been looking for.

Then he meets Dan.

The Future Starts Slow (ao3) - frihed_liberty

Summary: Dan is acting strange and Phil wants to know why. But then he sees something that can’t be unseen and things will never be the same again…

Tried to do headstands for you (every time I fell on you) (ao3) - popsongnation

Summary: “I’m not always this clumsy and accident prone, I swear,” Dan says, and maybe he’s lying, but Phil doesn’t have to know that. How hard can it be not to injure yourself at a coffee shop? He just needs to remember which way the doors open, and buy new shoes. He’ll be fine.

Or: coffee shop/uni AU in which Dan keeps injuring himself in increasingly ridiculous ways, Phil regularly has to patch him up, and it’s Christmas time.

when i sing, you sing harmonies (ao3) - The_Blonde

Summary: Witch Phils and the Piano Playing Dans that they just want to make happy (with a sprinkling of magic).

Wrestle With Your Demons So You Can Be Left Alone (ao3) - starrywrite

Summary: Dan learns the hard way that not everyone understands no means no.

You Can’t Tackle Your Demons on Your Own (ao3) - Merrydith

Summary: Dan is obsessed with a series of books by the amazing author, Phil Lester. He spends his time at the coffee shop he works at reading the books over and over again in the closet. When he meets a new co-worker who is also named Phil, they go on a date. Little does Dan know, he’s sharing a cup of coffee with the author he’s considered his best friend for years.

As he gets to know Phil, he finds that Phil is housing a destructive secret. Why did Phil apply to work at The Brew Bean in the first place and what happens when Phil starts breaking away, piece by piece? Can Dan save his beloved author or is Phil going to fall slowly and hopelessly into loneliness and despair? All the while, Dan is falling in love.

You’ll Find Me Waiting Here For You (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: Walking down the streets of London is like walking down a ghost town, missing people posters filled the streets along with trash and cars. They’ve had many discussions of relocating somewhere safer, somewhere with more possibilities of food and other resources, but it’s hard letting go of the place that shaped you. or Dan and Phil (+ two lesbians) vs. a post apocalyptic world.

Zoe’s Café - six-foot-two-phanchild

Summary: Dan works with his two friends at the coffee shop one of them own. He meets someone there who takes him on a journey he’d never imagined before.

[landoncrris]

I had an idea about a mason fic where reader and mase have only been dating for a few mknths but are visibly so in love. One of his family jokingly asks ‘so whens the weddinrg’ and reader is jokingly like ‘ wedding? What wedding. Im only here for the free summer holiDay and im out’ mason replies ‘thats a shame because i might be in love with you’ and reader is like ‘well i guess i could stay long enough for a free world cup trip’ and its all fluff

hope you guys don’t mind that i connected these two requests with each other,, anyways thank you very much for requesting it i hope you like it 🫶🏻

in love with you - mason mount x reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN // MASTERLIST

word count: 3.2k

gif by @chelsclub

You were just currently at the airport with Mason’s family waiting for your flight to join him in LA. You had decided to take the earliest flight at 4am so that hopefully you would get there at the time he wakes up. However, he didn’t know any of this, his family had talked to him about coming to see him and watch one of the pre-season games, but they had never said when they were going to do it. And most importantly, they didn’t mention that they would take you with them.

He had only been gone for six days, but you missed him like crazy. So much that you thought you were going crazy, especially as your relationship was still quite new. You had only been dating for a few months. But you already spent almost his entire summer break together and went on two of your dream holidays that he had planned for you without you knowing anything. Making you the happiest girl in the world for sure. Mason also took you on his family holiday, which allowed you to meet them all for the first time, and luckily he said they all love you already.

Honestly, it would normally have been way too early for you to meet your partner’s family so soon. But with him it just felt right, nothing seemed rushed and you were sure that you had never had such strong feelings for anyone before him. After those wonderful weeks on holiday when you were basically inseparable, you slept at his place the night before he left for LA. Ending with you not wanting to let him go at all the next morning. You may even have shed a few tears at the thought of him being gone for three weeks. So, when his parents asked you if you wanted to spontaneously fly to LA with them, you immediately said yes.

“Oh sh—” you said, but quickly interrupted yourself with a hum as you remembered that Mason’s niece Summer was sitting right next to you, her head on your lap as she took a nap. And it warmed your heart how quickly she trusted and liked you, as her parents said she was usually very shy at first.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten something.” Mason’s mother laughed, as she had already had to go back because Lewis had forgotten his passport. But luckily you were still early enough not to miss your flight.

“No no, don’t worry. Mason’s only calling me on facetime.” you sighed, wondering what to do, because it was pretty hard to hide the fact that you were at an airport when you’re talking on Facetime. Of course you loved seeing his face, but in this situation you would definitely prefer a normal phone call.

“He calls you at four in the morning? I feel sorry for you.” Lewis snorted and rolled his eyes before they went back to being glued to the magazine in his lap. Which he had been staring at for the whole twenty minutes you were now waiting here.

“Yeah, just don’t answer it, and if he asks you about it, you tell him you were asleep.” his mother said, which sounded like the perfect idea. But before you could think about it further, he had already hung up. The moment you saw his picture disappear from your phone screen, you desperately wanted to talk to him. Especially because you would be on a plane in the next eleven to twelve hours and it already had been a while since you had spoken to him. So now that he had hung up, you figured you could just call him without Facetime. Hoping that there would be no background noise that he would overhear.

“Hi baby, sorry if I woke you up, I didn’t think about it.” he said as he answered the call, his voice resonating a little. From which you deduced that he must be on the floor of their hotel, because he and the rest of the team usually went out for a few hours in the evening.

“Well, I’m awake now,” you lied, wanting to make it sound convincing, “how are you?”

“Missing you. How are you?”

“The same.” you replied, both sulking at the thought of each other. Although you felt a little better knowing that you would see him soon. You just couldn’t bear to be away from him anymore, which you would have to get used too unfortunately because of his job.

“Listen, love, I just called to say goodnight already because we’re going to lunch now, okay? I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I wake up. So, get some more sleep.” he mumbled, smiling as he thought about how you always wanted to know every detail of his day. As he could talk for hours about what he had eaten while you just wondered how the hell you got so lucky.

“Okay, have fun,” you said, the three words that had been on the tip of your tongue for days almost leaving you. You always had to hold back from saying them because it felt so natural, but neither of you had said them before. And you weren’t sure if he felt the same way, so you figured you should at least wait and tell him when you saw him in person again. Not knowing that he felt exactly the same.

“Good night.” you added, clearing your throat. After he returned it, you hung up the phone with a big smile on your face, which you tried to hide by looking out of the big windows. But everyone has already noticed it, more than happy that Mason has found someone like you.

*

Once landing in LA, you checked into your hotel, which was only a few streets away from the Chelsea team’s accommodation. You then immediately made your way there, where Kai was waiting for you in the lobby as planned and led you to Mason’s room.

“So, Y/N, you’re going to stay on the side for a while so it’s even more of a surprise that you’re here, yeah?” asked Jaz, though you had already planned it on the plane, so you just nodded. There wasn’t a corner nearby or anything, so you just hoped he wouldn’t see you standing against the wall next to his door. Your heart started to beat nervously when his father knocked on the door, because it was only now that you really realized that you could finally be close to him again soon.

He had to knock a few times, telling you all that he was probably still asleep, as breakfast wouldn’t start for another hour. A tired groan came from his room and his feet carried him to the door, although he just wanted to ignore it at first. But as he opened the door, his face brightened, a broad smile appearing on his face as he froze, thinking that he was still dreaming. But unfortunately, from where you stood, you couldn’t see him, only hear his voice. Which was enough to release butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh my— What are you guys doing here?” he laughed incredulously, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand to see if he wasn’t imagining things. But he quickly found out that he wasn’t when he heard his niece Summer call out for him. Her arms wrapped around his leg as Jaz set her down on the floor. Causing him to lift her up, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck.

“Hi princess, my god you look so pretty don’t you?” he smiled, only seeing her back and not her face, but he saw that she was wearing a full new Chelsea kit which he gave her as soon as he got his hands on it. Mason pressed a kiss to the top of her head before walking over to the others to hug them with the arm that wasn’t holding his niece. While he greeted everyone, he never took a foot out the door, lucky for you as he didn’t see you that way.

“Come on, sweetie, back to Mummy.” said Jaz and took her daughter out of Mason’s arms again, who just looked at her frowning. Just like Summer, who wanted to stay with her uncle.

“No, let me keep her, you want to stay with me, don’t you Summer?” he whined, smiling triumphantly as she nodded and reached for him with her hands. But Jaz still shook her head and followed everyone else into the room, making the excuse that she was tired and needed a nap.

“She can take a nap on my chest.” you heard their voices quieten down, and just before he was about to close the door, you stepped in front of it and held it open. He frowned and opened the door wide again to see what or who it was. But he certainly didn’t expect you to be standing there.

“Hi, Mase.” you mumbled, your voice sounding a little high pitched because you smiled so brightly when you finally saw his face in person again. He blinked a few times, confused as to why you were here too, though his stomach immediately swarmed with butterflies, all he wanted now was to be even closer to you. So in one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as he could, while lifting you into the air. At which you both giggled. He then put you back on your feet, detaching himself from you for a second and instead caressing your face with his hands on both sides, taking in all your features.

“I get that you’re happy to see me?”

“You have no idea.” he laughed, pulling your face closer to press his lips to yours. His hands moved back down to your waist, pulling you as close as he could while yours connected behind his neck. The kiss was messy, mostly your teeth clashing as neither of you could stop smiling. But neither of you cared either, because you were far too absorbed in the feel of each other, and finally being able to touch the other person again. You felt his heart beating fiercely against your own chest while the warmth of his bare chest spread to you as well.

“I missed you so much, Y/N.” he pulled his lips away from yours and rested his forehead against yours instead. When he opened his eyes and looked directly into yours, his stomach tingled, almost trembling at the intensity, “Thank you so much for coming.” he was about to press another kiss to your lips when you heard his brother calling from his room.

“Alright, wrap it up lovebirds.”

“Let them.” his mother said, slapping him on the arm with the restaurant card she was holding, wanting to see if it was a good place. That made you and Mason laugh, he pressed one last brief but meaningful kiss to your lips before leading you to the hotel room as well.

*

While Mason was at training, you went to breakfast with his family. Though you spent most of the time helping Summer draw, which you didn’t mind as you couldn’t say no to her anyway. Right after Mason finished lunch, you met him outside the hotel again, as he had a few hours off. You spent those going to Venice Beach, as most of you hadn’t been to Los Angeles yet, so you wanted to see the most popular places first. There you all sat down on some towels in the sand to enjoy the good weather and hopefully get a bit of a tan.

However, now that she had her favourite uncle back, Mason was the one who had to do everything with Summer. You mostly watched them build sandcastles or draw different things in the sand, which seemed to be more fun for Mason than for Summer, to be honest. He even wrote some cheesy pick-up lines in the sand and showed them to you, chuckling sweetly every time he saw you roll your eyes.

On the way to the restaurant his mother had chosen, you and Mason were inseparable again. He had his arm around your shoulder the whole time, while your hands were intertwined and your head rested against his side. You’d walked like that for the whole twenty minutes as you talked about anything, especially details he hadn’t told you yet about his week here. But he also kept asking you to sneak into his room with him because he just wanted to spend a little more time with you. After all, you were leaving for your flight back the next day right after the game. And as much as you would have liked to say yes so you could fall asleep and wake up next to him again, you were too scared that someone would find out and you’d get kicked out or something. So you said no each time, which meant you spent the rest of the evening with a sulking Mason by your side.

*

The game the next day had been fantastic, ending in a 4-0 win for Chelsea, with Mason scoring two of those goals. And even though it wasn’t an important game, you were more than proud of him. Afterwards, as planned, you and his family went to the front seats so you could say goodbye to him before you left for London again. The thought of leaving him again made you quite anxious because the two days you were here were certainly not enough and you were already missing him even though you were still with him. At this point you were oblivious to most of the conversations his family was having until Jaz tapped you on the shoulder, nodding over to Mason who was walking towards you.

Immediately a broad grin broke out on your face. He had visibly taken off his jersey, now his upper body only dressed in the undershirt he was wearing, while he held the jersey in his hand. He hugged everyone else first before he walked over to you and hugged you as well. His face nestled against your neck as one of your hands moved to his head. Your nails scratching his scalp in a way you knew by now that he loved.

“You did amazing, I’m so proud of you.” you murmured, feeling him smile against your neck before he took a step back and released his arms from you, making you frown.

“I want you to have this.” he said, holding out the jersey he had worn during the game and handing it to you with a smile. The sight of you already wearing one of his jerseys warmed his heart, but the second the game ended, he knew he wanted to give this one to you.

“You give her your sweaty, dirty jersey? How romantic!” his brother scoffed, earning a nasty look from Mason. But you thought it was sweet, just the thought of him thinking of you and wanting to give it to you made you happy. And it would probably be something you could walk around your house in, so you would miss him less. You put it in your bag before thanking him, putting your hands on the back of his neck and pulling him closer to you to press a kiss to his lips. But just as you were about to pull away again, he whined and wrapped his arms tightly around you so you couldn’t leave while he continued to kiss you.

“I bet if we left now they wouldn’t even notice.” you both ignored the comment from behind you, too absorbed in the feel of his tongue sliding over yours. But you ended the kiss soon as the urge to just hug him and enjoy these last moments with him became too strong. So you turned in his arms and leaned your head against his shoulder as he joined in the conversation of his siblings. But his attention was still mostly on you, his hand running up and down your stomach while he pressed an occasional kiss to the top of your head, not able to get enough of touching and kissing you.

“So when’s the wedding?” his mother asked, to which Mason laughed sheepishly and tried to hide his face in your hair. From the moment he met you, he knew he wanted to marry you one day, but the conversation hadn’t come up yet, so he didn’t know if it was something you could imagine with him too.

“Wedding? I’m only here for another expensive summer holiday and then I’m off.” you joked, his family laughing with you. Everyone knew you weren’t serious, the way you looked at each other clearly told everyone around you that you were in love with each other. Only you two being oblivious to it.

“That’s a shame,” Mason whispered, the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks now desperately wanting to get off his chest. Especially since he saw you with his family again and how open you were already around them. He took a deep breath before going with his gut feeling, “Because I might be in love with you.” he whispered into your hair, to which you looked up at him, trying to hide the smile on your face even though it was impossible. While he watched the sparkle in your eyes that always appeared when you were excited or happy about something.

“You might?”

“I definitely am.” he smiled now too, which brought a blush to your face. You tried to hide it by averting your eyes from him, but that only made it more endearing to him. “Well, I guess I could stay long enough for a free World Cup trip too.” you shrugged, turning your head to look at him again so as not to miss his reaction. The blush on his cheeks prompted you to get closer to him, but as your lips touched, you heard someone call his name. When you both looked in that direction, you realised that it was Tuchel calling him over, as he was the last player on the pitch.

“Don’t go.” you whined, turning in his arms again, holding both of his hands now, wishing he could stay a little longer. “I wish I didn’t have to, love.” he said, pressing a slow kiss to your lips, wanting to drag it out as long as possible. Mason pressed another kiss to your forehead, then quickly hugged his family goodbye. He planned to just turn around and not kiss you again because he knew he wouldn’t want to stop.

“Wait,” you pulled him back by the hand and stood on tiptoe to be as close to his lips as possible, “I love you.” you whispered against them, aa you had to say those words properly now before he had to leave. Immediately a big smile returned to his face and he kissed you one last time as he really had to go.

“I love you too.”

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Hi! Uh, I’m generally new to your Tumblr blog but I’m a big fan of your Sent From Above story 👉👈 and I was wondering if you could maybe do something with Devil and a fallen Angel turned Demon reader if you have the time.

A/N: So remember that post I made regarding how I'm going to try out a crisper, shorter style? Ngl, I had this request in mind because. gotdamn. The drabble I had written out exploded in length with only a dash of Devil in there. So I made sure to include a bunch of hcs to hopefully make up for it __φ(．．;)

If you're unhappy with this, be sure to shoot me a message so I can redo 'em!

(Read more placed due to lengthiness! CW: Minor descriptions of gore/blood in the drabble portion)

The Devil w/ a Fallen Angel s/o Hcs:

When his imps had first discovered your crumpled, broken form, you earned the intrigue of Hell’s king. It had been a long time since an angel had fallen– rebelled– from Heaven. Centuries, even.

Yet, as he took in the state of you– halo shattered and wings completely stripped away from you– remnants of a phantom pain he had tried so hard to bury ghosted over his spine.

He had spent a long time silently staring at you that night, slowly taking in each and every feature your smaller form had to offer; ignoring any and all concerned prodding from the imps at his side.

You stared up at him with wide, glass-like eyes filled with a kaleidoscope of emotions, your face bearing them all as you’re struggling to stomach the hysterical cocktail you’re experiencing. Fear, misery, bitterness– all of them shined within unshed tears as you fought to keep a stiff upper lip.

A pang of pity tightens his chest. The Devil moves his gaze away from you towards the bright lights of the casino in the distance; avoiding you as he clicks his tongue.

That night, you’re taken by the larger demon and put to work as one of the casino staff as a cocktail/cigarette server. It’s not glamorous by any means, but it allows the Devil to watch over you closely from the indoor balcony.

Your relationship, at first, is distant. You had regarded the demon as the man who had so graciously taken you in after your banishment from Heaven. While a part of you is grateful for a chance to start anew, you couldn’t deny feeling unnerved in his presence. Still, you fell into your new role with ease; dutifully taking orders and avoiding the wandering hands of drunken patrons.

Every now and then, you are tasked with bringing the Devil a carton of thick, luxury-brand cigars to his office. He’d quietly take one from the tray you brought him, motioning for you to light it for him, before waving you away.

The demon doesn’t say so much as a word to you, but you can feel his eyes follow after you as you leave the room.

For a while, this was the most interaction you’ve had with him. That is until the pain in your back– where your wings once sat– began to flare up intensely.

You had tried to hide the pain as best you could, and, for the most part, it worked. Most of your coworkers figured you had slept on your back wrong. However, most of the demons you crossed paths with during the day knew better. Though, it’s not like they ever did anything to help other than a shrug.

So when you had entered the Devil’s office to hand him a tray of scotch, he took one look at your knitted brows and strained smile, and it didn’t take him very long to connect the dots. The moment you placed down the alcohol, without a word, he poured two glasses.

You had looked at him, brows and nose scrunched and strained smile falling open into a small “o”. The demon merely rolled his eyes and pushed a glass towards you.

“Don’t give me that doe-eyed look. It’s not a cure for your little ailment, but at least you’re numb and drunk instead of miserable.”

After that encounter, you’ll find yourself called up to the Devil’s quarters much more frequently– with or without his usual cigar or hooch. It’s… awkward, at first. You still couldn’t get a good read on the demon’s intentions, and the Devil seems to have a bit of a staring problem when it comes to you.

Though rare, he’ll offer you a puff at the cigar he’s been smoking in the middle of his paperwork. The moment you do accept and wrap your lips around the thick tobacco, the demon purrs in approval— earning him a flustered look and a small puff of smoke for his efforts.

A romantic relationship just kinda… happened. There was never any date or spoken interest on either one of your ends. And though the Devil is far from the warmest of souls or the most romantic, it doesn’t mean he’s completely devoid of love.

When the two of you embrace, he’s gentle when nearing the puckered scars on your back. The demon is mindful of his talons as he idly traces a finger up and down the old marks, silently relishing in the way you shiver each time.

Though the Devil is a lot more refined compared to his lackeys, he’s still quite ferocious from spending centuries in Hell. In other words, he’ll try to make you feel more welcome to your new lifestyle with him by “grooming” you. Which is really just him attempting to lick you while you try batting him away like an angry cat. Don’t be rude, he’s trying to clean you >:(

While it’s not always an absolute outcome, many of the angels that did fall from grace ended up transforming to the demons they were now. And though he doesn’t mind you’re still human-looking in appearance, the Devil would think you’d look quite nice with a pair of horns and tail…

You two share a silent agreement to avoid mentioning Heaven as much as possible. It brings up too many painful memories and it just makes him angry.

—------------------------------ (Bonus Drabble: “The First Fall”)--------------------------------------

It had all happened so quickly.

One moment, you were wrapped in the soft, mellow glow of Heaven’s light, the cool mist of clouds lapping at your bare ankles; surrounded by the downcast stares of your fellow angels as you’re forced onto your knees. The next, an agonizing pain– white-hot like molten silver flowing through your veins– fills your being.

A shrill scream pierces the air. A few of the other angels around you– former friends, some coworkers– look away. Some closed their eyes, their faces twisted into ugly grimaces.

One of the spectators began to sob. They’re quick to be shushed, though that does little to deter the offender. The anguished cries are stopped with a harsh slap that rang out through the air, and sobs die down to muffled whimpers.

No one moved to shush them, nor did anyone move to offer comfort.

The screaming doesn’t stop. It only grew louder with each passing second; the flames under your skin burning fiercer, threatening to burn you alive. The salty, coppery taste of blood fills your mouth, and the wails— your wails— grow wet with coughs.

Fat, heavy tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the cold, impassive sea of faces as you fought back violent hacks and wheezes.

You tried to raise your hands to your mouth, desperate to hide your agony to your unmoved voyeurs, but a metallic clank filled your ear. The jagged metal bit into your wrist, and you looked down to see rusted shackles.

Dread filled your breast, and you pulled at your chains. You pulled and pulled, filling the air with harsh, desperate clanks as you clawed and yanked; eyes wide and teeth bared as sweat and tears flowed down your cheeks.

Rust tore and scraped away the raw, red flesh of your wrists, and a yowl was torn from your lips as jagged metal shaved off a strip of skin. Blood dripped down towards the clouds beneath your battered knees, tainting the pure white ground with a bright red.

In a moment of instinct– a knee-jerk reaction, every sense screaming at you to flee– you threw yourself forward. The crowd starts with a collective gasp as you unfurl your wings, casting a looming shade over your former peers as you flapped with all your might. You felt your feet rise from the ground, wrist wet with boiling blood, and hope sings in your chest–

Only for you to come crashing down.

You slammed into the ground with a scream. A flurry of feathers followed in your wake, and you watched on in horror as they slowly came falling. Pure white plumage shifted into a burnt, ashen black before they crumbled into dust. Soon after, burning pain consumed your back, and you felt a force grab onto your wings.

Like the resounding echoes of a church bell, the loud, jutting snaps of bones breaking filled the air. A furious painful flame lapped at every sinew in your back as the force pulled and pulled until flesh tore like wet paper. Severed wings thumped in front of you, the limbs broken and bare; bone and membrane resembling your father’s failed doll creations more than something that was once a part of you.

Before you could look back towards the crowd, your world was enshrouded in darkness. A gag forced itself inside your mouth, muffling your panicked shrieks. The shackles around your wrists were roughly tugged off, replaced by a rough, gloved hand. Leather-clad fingers press themselves onto your open wounds, your captor silently forcing you up onto shaky legs. Another hand clapped itself onto the small of your back, no doubt growing wet with your blood, and the hand around your wrist migrated towards your neck.

“Please…” you choked out through your gag, your voice falling into another muffled sob.

The angel beside you remained silent, their hand clenching tighter around your neck. Without a word, they pushed you forward, forcing you into a blind walk. The cold wetness of the clouds beneath bit into your bare feet as the two of you silently trudged along; the low whistling of the wind serving as your sole companion.

Moments passed before your captor abruptly stopped, leaving you to fumble with a dampened squeak. The wind’s low whistles whipped itself into a howling frenzy as the hand on your back moved to your shoulder. You felt the side of your face grow hot as the angel lowered their lips to your ear.

“Fall.”

………….

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? Days? Whatever the case was, it no longer mattered. The realm of consciousness soon allows you back in your sorry state, and the first thing you do is groan. You felt like utter shit.

Both your wrists and back ached fiercely. You shift for a moment and quickly come to regret it. Dirt and sharp rock dug their foul edges into your back, burrowing themselves like ticks.

Reflexively, you try to flex your wings. A pit forms in your stomach when you feel nothing, and you softly utter a curse under your breath. A tiny, delusional part of you had hoped that this was all a horrible nightmare. The phantom pains and the rocks lodged in your still open wounds shut that part up instantly.

Gingerly, you move to sit up; your eyes tightly shut as your head throbs.

The first thing you note is how unbearingly warm the air was. It was thankfully nowhere near the burning you felt back home- Heaven. Back up in Heaven, but it was enough to coax a thin sweat along your brow. Tentatively, you ease your eyes open, your chest heavy and hands faintly shaking.

A haze of oranges, reds, and blacks fills your eyes as a thin, gray haze hangs before you like a smoggy curtain. The smell of soot and coal fire fills your nose, and the bitter and smoky taste of ash floods your mouth; practically punching a coughing fit from your lungs. You frantically bat away falling cinder, unease tightening inside your chest.

You’re met with the sight of great, towering pillars of flames that held up a bloody sky. Burgundy and rust-red fill the horizon with jagged rocks, building up to mountains that scrape at the skyline; streams of lava flowing like wine from a barrel keg. Shrieks and howls can be heard faintly in the distance— Who they belonged to, you didn’t know. Nor did you want to know.

A gaggle of imps suddenly crow nearby, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You whip your head behind you to the sight of the tiny demons flying overhead. One of them glances down for a moment, coal-black eyes meeting yours.

Before you could even blink, they sharply whistle, immediately grabbing the attention of their companions. They point a clawed finger towards you. Three pairs of slitted pupils lock onto you. You gulp, nervous sweat breaking out against your brow.

Neither one of you move for a moment. The air grows thick with anticipation, your heart pounding against your chest as you tightly clench your hands. Your eyes flit from them towards your surroundings. You need to act fast. Look for a weapon, an exit, anything-

“Don’t just gawk like a couple o’ mooks! Get ‘em!”

They dived down in a blur of movement. Their claws outstretched and teeth bared like wild dogs. You move to dive away, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. One demonic body slams onto the ground beside you, eyes brimming with unbridled annoyance. You freeze for a moment, giving another imp just enough time to slam into you.

Rocks and ash are sent flying as your bodies hit the ground. Pain violently explodes along the back of your skull, ripping a yowl from your lips as you reflexively push at the body on top of you. Another body slams into the dirt beside you, sending pebble and dirt into your eyes.

You hiss, tears filling your vision, and a spindly hand pins down your arm before you could try to swipe again. Almost immediately, another pair of hands pin your other arm. Hot, rancid breath– rich with the scent of spirits and tobacco– fans against your nose. They stare down at you with slitted pupils, mouth opened wide to show off a beartrap-like maw. Warm ribbons of saliva drip down onto your cheek, coating your face in a slimy film.

They inch towards you, razor-sharp teeth ready to rip and tear. Just as you can feel a forked tongue ghost over your neck, one of the imps suddenly intervenes. They roughly slap your aggressor upside the head, their yellow eyes wide with panic.

“Stop that, ya numbskull! Now ain’t the time to blow your wig! That’s the one the boss is lookin’ for!” the other imp grabs their companion by the scruff of their neck, dragging the offender off you.

Their lips pull back into a tense grimace, bearing their crooked teeth at the smaller imp in their hands as their eyes bulge out. Slitted pupils dart from the demon in their hands towards you, and their grimace morphs into a desperate smile.

“The boss was gettin’ antsy about this. We gotta skedaddle now before he-”

“Before I do what, boy?”

A deep, rich voice– smooth like velvet and hot like the burn of a gulp of whiskey– interrupts. The imp speaking releases a yelp, eyes practically flying from their skull as they drop their companion. Tiny hands instantly release you, throwing themselves off like you had burned them. Quick as you can blink, the demons rush to form a neat line, backs ramrod straight and tails between their legs. You follow their gaze– towards the voice- and your breath catches in your throat.

Towering above you and the imps stood a man– a beast– with skin as black as midnight. Tall horns with tips sharp enough to poke your eyes out sat at the crown of his skull, his body cloaked in a thick coat of wild fur. You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat as blood-red eyes practically stare into your soul.

Thin lips spread into a wolf’s grin, though the smile doesn’t reach the man’s eyes.

“Another reject joins the flock,” he grouses, his smile twitching faintly.

[missluckycharms]

What about nobody knows their secretly dating, but they’re always flirting. So one day all of their Friends are at a club and y/n gets on the dance floor and starts twerking and Harry comes up behind her and starts grinding and tapping her ass and all there friends are whistling.

This Little Secret Of Ours.

A/N: hiii! I made this into a best friends brother! Harry blurb and I also changed a few things. I hope you don’t mind! Enjoyyy !!

**I will be getting around to all your requests in the next few days, please be patient !! Thank you !! **

Warnings: suggestive content, mature language, alcohol consumption, Harry is a cheeky lil shit.

It started when Y/N was nineteen and Harry was turning twenty one. It was never meant to happen, but what could she do? She was attracted to him, and he was to her.

They have a connection that you cannot look past no matter how hard it would be for them to be together, they needed to make it work.

And they did, they’ve hid it from everyone for nearly two years now. No one even suspects the pair is together, they never leave anyone have any suspicion on if they might be together. They even go as far as having some little fake argument just to keep up the “we hate one another” image in front of all of their friends — Y/N’s best friend being in that friend group, Harry’s sister.

The only way that this works between the two, is because Harry has his own flat, he bought it recently and Y/N as basically moved in, she’s rarely at her shared flat with her other best friend — always saying she was visiting family for days at a time, but she was really hiding out in Harry’s small one bedroom studio apartment together, cuddled up under blankets away from the world.

Every Friday their friend group has a tradition: they all meet up at the local night club and catch up on their lives, talk about their week, have some drinks and just have fun. As they’re older, their lives are getting more hectic and they have less time together, so this little meet up each week gives them the chance to feel like teens again.

Today is like every other Friday, Y/N is in Harry’s getting ready, the pair fighting over the one bathroom, Harry running in ahead of her for a shower as she “takes too long” and she “has to shave her bits and bobs!” And it “takes for ages!” Y/N always fires back with her usual response: “you’ve long hair too! You don’t see me complaining when you take ten years to apply your hair masks and then give two washes of it all!”

That small argument happened nearly an hour ago, Harry laughed back and slammed the bathroom door in her face as she stands in only his bath robe, her towels in hand along with a new packet of razors she picked up on her way over here. She rolls her eyes and huffs turning around to head back into his bedroom.

“Might want to give it twenty minutes m’love, I used up all the hot water” Harry says calmly, walking out of the steamy bathroom in only a towel slung around his waist and another towel drying the ends of his long curls. Y/N looks up from her phone, her eyes narrow as they only have three hours to get to the club.

“This is why I go first!” She yells out, flopping down onto the bed in annoyance at her boyfriend who’s laughing while running some curl cream through his wet locks, his eyes focused on himself in the mirror.

“Gives you twenty minutes to have some Harry time!” He says wiping the residue of curl cream into his towel, his smile wide as she looks at him from where she’s laying on his bed, her lips in a pout and her brows furrowed in anger.

“I had plenty of Harry time this week, you were like a kid! Barely got any time to even pee!” She yells as Harry just laughs at her angry self, loving how cute she looks when her lips pout and her eyes roll with her pretty eyelashes framing them. He adores her, all of her.

The twenty minutes is spent by Y/N being tickled by Harry as she yelled and laughed loudly while he teased her for being ticklish, her body squirming on the bed as he hovered above her with his fingers tickling her ribcage causing her to loose control of her whole body and melt into a puddle of flailing limbs and loud screeches. Harry eventually let up his tickling, allowing Y/N to finally shower and start to get ready. He’s currently sat on his bed, ready to go in his black and white silk button up, black skinny jeans and some black leather boots. Y/N is currently curling her hair and applying some makeup as she stands in her outfit: a simple black silk dress with black heels.

“Look so beautiful m’heart, love the sparkly straps on your shoes” he points out when she’s finally ready, Harry sliding his phone into his back pocket to get a closer look at his girl, his hands snaked around her waist as he pulls back to rake his eyes up and down her body carefully, his lip between his teeth as he observes her.

“Thank you H, you don’t look too bad yourself. New shirt?” She asks reaching up and tugging on the collar a little, only three buttons done up on the whole shirt leaving his tattooed chest to show through with his many necklaces — what was more eye catching was how sheer the fabric was, allowing his butterfly and other tattoos to be visible when light is shined onto him.

“Bought it last week, more sheer than I thought but hey, who doesn’t want a front row seat to the nipple show? Huh?” He asks shaking his chest at Y/N, her eyes rolling as she slaps his chest playfully as he pulls her in for a kiss.

“Can’t kiss you until we’re back here, which won’t be for like, God knows how many hours” He mumbles against her lips as they kiss one another passionately and slowly, their hands roaming one another’s bodies as they take in every detail of each other.

“You always take me into the bathroom for a quick fuck or a make out session, don’t act like you don’t do that” she fires back with a tug to his bottom lip with her own teeth, a groans escaping his chest at her action, his hands squeezing her ass a little as he pulls her more into him.

“Keep talking like that and we aren’t going anywhere baby” he says lowly, his tongue licking over her bottom lip as she smiles against his lips, her hands roaming his chest, then his stomach and then down to his crotch, giving him a tight squeeze when she feels how hard he’s getting, Harry lets out an involuntary moan at the feeling, his hips pushing into her palm as she licks over his bottom lip slowly as she goes.

“Come on big boy, we have somewhere to be” she says pulling away, fixing her dress and wiping her lipgloss from Harry’s lips, her eyes looking at him innocently as if she didn’t just tease him and get him hard two seconds ago. He groans as she grabs her handbag, throwing a wink over her shoulder at him as she trots towards the front door of the apartment.

“You coming?”

“Unfortunately no” he says sighing, looking down at his erection in his tight skinny jeans, Y/N rolling her eyes at what he means.

“Harry, get out into the cab” she says tapping her foot against the floors, her phone buzzing with messages from the Uber driver that he’s outside and not waiting any longer than five minutes.

“Fine” he sighs, grabbing his house keys and sulking his way towards the cab, Y/N apologising for the delay and Harry just pouting like a toddler beside her as they head off to their night out with all their friends.

—

The night has gone smoothly, Harry and Y/N sitting at opposite ends of the table they’re all sharing in the booth, their eyes catching one another’s every few minutes but their slight eye fucking flies under the radar due to how dull it is in the club. Their friends are chatting, laughing and singing as they all sip their drinks and talk about nonsense, Y/N being dragged into conversation about how her job as a florist is going by her best friend Jada, while Harry is dragged into a conversation by their friend Chase about nonsense due to his drunken state — Chase loves to pre drink and now he’s drunk as fuck.

Harry is nodding and smiling along to Chase’s words, his fingers fiddling with his beer coaster in boredom, all he wants to do is have drunken chats with Y/N about nonsense like they usually do when they drink at Harry’s place, the pair having a bottle of wine each as they dish out random facts and stories from their childhoods and Harry’s one year long college experience — he dropped out because he couldn’t handle not being around Y/N, she was too far away from him and plus, his dorm mate was a nightmare.

He’s brought out of his small daydream of half listening to Chase while also mumbling along to the words of the song that’s blasting through the speakers in the packed nightclub, by his phone buzzing in his back pocket, he takes it out and keeps it under the table on his lap, looking down to see a notification from Y/N. He doesn’t look up as he opens it, his eyes widen at what the message says.

Y/N: mind if I shake my ass on the dance floor?

Harry: don’t you dare, your ass is mine and mine only. Don’t think about it baby love.

He looks up to see her looking at him, her lip between her teeth as she locks her phone, him mirroring their actions as they stop their small conversation. Her eyes are dark with lust, a tug pulling at the corners of her lips as she leans over to whisper into Jada’s ear. Harry watches her like a hawk, legs spread under the table, arms crossed over his chest and his head thrown back against the wall of the booth as he narrows his eyes at his girlfriend, her own challenging smile getting thrown back right at him.

Jada is the first to move, then Lola and then Y/N, leaving Harry at the other side being sandwiched between Chase and Niall, Niall is currently on the phone trying to speak to his landlord about a busted pipe in his house, but instead of going outside he insists to stay in here, he has a massive fear of missing out. That’s Niall for you. Harry watches Y/N like a hawk, his eyes never leaving her body as she holds onto both Jada and Lola’s hands, their smiles wide and they mouth along to the words of the song,

Her eyes are on him every now and then, her hips swaying as she dances with her friends, others around them dancing aswell as Harry doesn’t take his eyes off his girl on the floor, the lights flashing about and illuminating her every now and then as she moves to the beat of the song.

Harry’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets when he sees her bend over and begin to shake her hips, causing her ass to jiggle about as Lola and Jada spur her on, slapping her ass a little as she laughs loudly, looking over to Harry who’s now stalking his way to the dance floor, pushing past the crowd of people. Jada nearly slaps Harry when he picks Y/N up by her waist, flinging her over his shoulder as she laughs loudly, Harry shaking her head as barely anyone on the floor recognises what’s happening due to how dark it is, Jada and Lola following hot on Harry’s heels as he carries their best friend like a sack of potatoes back to the booth.

“What was that for?!” Jada yells slapping her brothers chest and bicep, her brows furrowed in anger as Harry now holds Y/N close to him his hands around her waist as they both look at Jada with small smiles.

“She was showing off what’s mine” Harry says with a smile, looking down at Y/N who scrunches up her nose with laughter, pecking his lips lightly as they both finally get to show love to another in public, in front of everyone.

“I knew it!” Niall yells nearly falling over the table, Chase whistling and clapping as he nearly passes out due to how much he’s moving right now.

“Only because I told you!” Lola fires at Niall who rolls his eyes looking at them all, Jada stood beside the pair not knowing what to say.

“We all had a feeling, we were just waiting for you both to say something; there’s only so many times we’ll believe your bra just some how ended up in Harry’s car” Jada says rolling her eyes with a smile, Y/N burying her face in Harrys chest in embarrassment over the story.

Jada hugs the two, immediately running up to order a round of shots in celebration of the new couple — well, not that new, but now they’re officially together in the eyes of everyone else. They couldn’t be happier and they couldn’t be more grateful that Jada didn’t lose her shit.

“Guess this little secret of ours is out, huh?” He whispers to her, her smile wide as she looks up at him with her arms slung around his neck holding him close.

“I guess so, boyfriend”

[lady-literature]

Found Family

holy shit did this one get way out of hand. Don’t expect them all to be this long because hot damn this is a monster compared to literally everything else but it just wouldn’t stop

(should I have expected this? probably. we all know how I am about found family.)

anyway enjoy 4.5k words ig

based on this post | @maribatmarch-2k21 | find more here

***

When Marinette had been chosen to intern with Monsieur Wayne’s PA, she hadn’t been expecting anything special. Sure, the Waynes were an odd breed and generally considered strange, but Marinette hadn’t actually expected to have much contact with them—if any at all.

She was here to earn credit for her business degree.

Instead, she has… well. She thinks she’s been somehow inducted into the Wayne family, mostly on accident and kind of as a joke.

That is, until it very much wasn’t.

***

Her first mistake, she supposes, was being too good at her job.

Marinette is an old hand at keeping track of multiple moving parts and riding herd on stubborn people who’d otherwise be too distracted or goofing off. (She was the Court’s leader for more than just being the latest in a long line of Ladybugs, after all.)

After the first two days shadowing Selina—“please, darling. Ms Kyle is so formal”—and learning the broad strokes of the job, Marinette felt confident enough to dig her nails in and get to work. Selina spent most of her time dedicated to international tasks and arranging Monsieur Waynes’ private affairs—all of which was highly classified and not discussed with Marinette—so she turned her attention to inter-company affairs.

Her first order of business was personally meeting with as many people in managerial positions as she could get. Not a requirement for the job per se, but these were people she’d have to interact with often and Maman had always stressed the importance of building connections in the workplace.

“People,” she would say, “are far more willing to do what you want them to when you’ve endeared yourself to them.”

So Marinette takes that advice and spends her breaks and lunches charming employees and giving baked goods to security guards and learning the names of the cleaning crew. She doesn’t speak to the department heads, because Selina handles their correspondences, but everyone else is free game as far as she’s concerned.

She becomes a well-recognized face astoundingly quickly.

***

Marinette probably should’ve seen the rumors coming.

It’s common practice in not only the Wayne family, but in most business conglomerates, for the children to quickly rise through the ranks of their company—if not just handed a high position right off the bat.

It took barely a month before the eldest was all but running Human Resources, and the second was placed as Head of Security practically out of nowhere. Monsieur Drake is the youngest (and most terrifyingly calculated) CEO to ever hold Wayne Enterprises, even if he does share the title with his father.

The other three are still too young or have yet to express an interest in the company, but people say it’s only a matter of time.

The track record speaks for itself, even if Marinette wishes it didn’t.

As a girl who’d come mostly out of nowhere and found herself with far more divisive sway in the company than she had any right to, it’s no wonder everyone thinks she’s some sort of secret Wayne finally coming out of hiding.

Marinette had nearly choked on her coffee when Selina dropped the bomb of that particular tidbit of company gossip.

“Most think you’ve been unofficially adopted,” Selina tells her, looking far too amused for Marinette’s liking. “Seeing as you’re too old for official avenues now.”

Marinette looks up warily from the schedule she’s rearranging. Selina had all but shoved the thing at her a month ago when she started suggesting more efficient ways of managing the CEOs’ valuable time.

“Only most? Does that mean the rest have common sense?”

Selina’s grin widens even further, if that’s possible, and Marinette regrets her question even before the older woman starts speaking.

“Oh, of course not!” she laughs delightedly. “The rest are hoping to hear news of wedding bells. It’s high time someone swept a Wayne off the market, don’t you think?”

***

“So you’re the new little sister I keep hearing about.”

Marinette stares up through narrowed eyes at the brightly smiling Dick Grayson. In her stomach, there are already the beginnings of resignation starting to form. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you!”

This man is going to bring her nothing but trouble. She can tell.

***

Dick takes a liking to her. And she, against her better judgment, finds herself doing the same to him.

It’s a little hard not to, if she’s being honest. He’s bright and bubbly and brings her bagels during his morning break without her ever having asked.

It takes practically no time at all before Marinette considers him a friend, relaxing when he’s near and laughing openly at his ridiculous jokes. Despite being the head of HR, he’s not great at the whole ‘professional’ thing and often employees will walk by to find him draped across a chair or balancing precariously on the edge of her desk while she tries and fails to get some work done while he’s around.

It really doesn't help all of the ‘Marinette is a Wayne’ rumors running around. Especially when Dick starts pointedly calling her every variation of ‘little sister’ that he can think of just to annoy her (and, she knows, because he thinks the entire situation hilarious).

***

Three weeks after befriending Dick, Selina all but shoves her into Monsieur Drake’s office and, in no uncertain words, says, “He’s your problem now.”

Marinette blinks at what she can describe as nothing other than a disaster area and just… sighs.

Tim blinks back at her.

The motion is somehow both completely blank and filled with an uncomfortable amount of knowing at the same time. There is also, she notices, a frankly ludicrous amount of concealer caked beneath his eyes and more coffee cups scattered on every flat surface than Marinette has ever seen in her life.

She knows his schedule like the back of her hand seeing as she spends hours of her day pouring over it to make sure everything runs smoothly. He has no prior engagements for the next three hours.

“You’re not going to take a nap just because I ask, are you?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not.”

She nods, having expected the answer; her phone was already at her ear before he even finished speaking. “Hey, Dick!” she greets, sounding brighter than she feels at the moment, and watches as Tim stiffens in front of her. “Yeah, no. I was just wondering if you’re busy right now.” She pauses. “Oh, good! Can you come up to Tim’s office for me? Yeah, I need you to knock him out so I can fix his dumpster fire of an office.”

Tim has since started waving his hands frantically at her, panic setting in behind his eyes.

Marinette stares at him, unmoved. “Thanks, Dick! You’re the best!”

The silence after she hangs up is deafening.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed by the ease you’re manipulating me or pissed off that you’re doing it in the first place.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Does your decision have any bearing on my future employment?”

His eyes squint. “…No.”

Marinette shrugs, mind already whirling with what she’ll need to get done first and calculating how long she’ll likely have to get it done. “Then I think you should skip right over both of those and land on resignation as quickly as possible, Monsieur, because you’re going to have to get used to it regardless.”

It’s silent for a long moment, and she worries for just a second that she’s severely crossed some sort of line. Then Tim bursts out laughing instead of, you know, firing her like he probably should have.

“Oh, yeah. You’re going to fit right in here.”

Marinette doesn’t ask where the ‘here’ is. She’s pretty sure she already knows.

***

It takes ten days for Marinette to wrangle Tim’s life into something resembling order. His office is clean and organized to his liking. She’s developed a system of filing so that all paperwork goes through her and is quickly sorted into ‘can be handled by Marinette’, ‘forge his signature and tell him about it later’, and ‘actually important enough to have Tim read through’.

His schedule is the most efficient it’s ever been and Marinette is quickly honing the skill of getting him properly dressed and out of his office in under thirty minutes. (Dick is, thankfully, a great teacher and has little to no qualms about giving her the key to all his little brother’s weaknesses.)

Selina stares at her when Marinette all but drags Tim from his office, a folder tucked neatly under his arm and the sugary monstrosity of a caffeinated beverage she’s bribed him with in her own, with a whole ten minutes to spare before his meeting with the Board.

“My dear,” she says solemnly, “you are positively magic.”

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s simultaneously wrangling Tim’s hair into submission and laying his tie down flat. “You have no idea.”

***

She knows Tim is capable of professionality. She’s seen the cool facade he pulls up in front of the Board members and the kind but impersonal smile he uses on the employees of Wayne Enterprises. (He is not the Ice Prince of the Wayne family, but Marinette believes he should have some equally ruthless sounding title.) He is aloof and sharp and every inch the businessman people praise him to be.

She’s seen it. And yet… 

“Monsieur. Why are all the Lexcorp contracts I gave you done in crayon?”

Tim doesn’t stop messing with his Rubix cube or even look up at her when he says, “Cause deadbeat fathers don’t deserve the respect of a pen.”

Marinette is very tired. She does not have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“Lex is a bitchass absentee dad and I live to inconvenience him.”

“What about inconveniencing me?” she all but whines. “I can’t hand him these!”

That does make Tim look up at her, eyes wide with false innocence and mouth pouting up at her. “But sister dearest, I’m your little brother. It’s my job to inconvenience you.”

Growling in frustration is probably an inappropriate reaction to the situation.

But, Marinette thinks, so is the fact that both of the Waynes she associates with regularly seem hellbent on convincing the world that she too, is a Wayne, so.

(Is this how Alya felt dealing with the twins? Cause if so, Marinette takes back every joke she ever made—little siblings are a bitch.)

***

She meets Damian without warning.

Honestly, she never really expected to meet him at all but, well.

She finds him in Monsieur Wayne’s office, sitting at his father’s desk and doing something that she thinks is vaguely illegal, but she’s not about to tell her Boss a dozen times over how to parent his children.

Damian is a near-perfect copy of his father with darker skin and calculating green eyes. There’s also a more potent aura of danger around the child than there is around his father, like Damian hasn’t yet learned how to hide behind his public persona as his father had.

Or, Marinette looks at the teen thoughtfully, perhaps he just chooses not to.

“Monsieur Wayne,” she greets. Children like to be treated like adults, she knows, and Marinette doesn’t think this one is any different. “Selina hadn’t told me you’d be in the office today.”

“I don’t run my schedule by her,” he says flatly. A response she expected considering Dick’s stories.

“Of course not,” she agrees.

He finally deigns to look up at her and something flits across his expression, too fast for her to pick up on it. “Are those for Father? Bring them here, I’ll deal with them in his absence.”

Marinette raises her eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s wise Monsieur.”

Damian scowls and sticks his hand out. “I’m perfectly capable of forging Father’s signature. Give them here.”

She does not move and, instead, lets her lips quirk up into the smile she’s been fighting since she stepped in here.

“I don’t doubt it,” she tells him, and she doesn't. Forgery seems exactly like the kind of skill a child who broke into the CEO’s office of a multi-billion dollar company would have. “But you’ll find that all forging of signatures has been finished for the day and that these,” she shakes the sheaf of papers lightly, “actually require your father’s attention.”

He snorts disbelievingly and it says a lot about Marinette’s life up until now that the blatant display of disrespect doesn’t piss her off but instead reminds her of Chloé and of the fact that she still needs to reschedule their spa day. It's been too long since they spent time together in person.

“Well,” she pauses and eyes the papers thoughtfully. “‘Requires’ in the sense that its information needed to trounce the Board when they start spouting off greedy bullshit about cutting corners on our humanitarian efforts. I’m not sure how much of it is actually useful for anything besides that.” She shrugs. “But homework is homework, yes?”

That gets her a thoughtful once-over. His hand lowers and he then turns back to whatever he’s messing with on his father’s computers.

“Very well,” he concedes. “Father will be back in approximately thirteen minutes. You can leave the papers and I’ll inform him of their… importance.” He smirks, but it’s more like he’s letting her in on a joke than anything else.

Marinette smiles back as she sets the folder on the desk, feeling, oddly, like she’s passed some sort of test.

***

The day after, both Dick and Tim are waiting for her with what looks like an entire bakery laid out in her workspace.

“Uh,” she says eloquently, setting her purse down on her chair because there’s not a single open space on her desk not filled with some kind of pastry. “What’s all this?”

She looks up to find neither Dick nor Tim has stopped staring at her since she walked in. “We heard you met Damian yesterday,” Dick starts warily, like he’s scared of her reaction.

The response does not abate her confusion. 

“Yes, I did,” she says slowly. “That does not explain all… this.” She waves a hand, trying to encompass them as well as the state her desk is in.

The two brothers share a look.

“It’s a bribe,” Tim tells her simply and Marinette is taken aback for all of a second before her eyes suddenly narrow.

Dick cuts in hastily before she can say anything. “It’s more of an apology, really. For Damian’s behavior.”

But Marinette is confused and frustrated and just a bit offended by the apparent not-bribe at this point. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but it only does so much.

“Damain’s behavior was fine,” she tells them with measured neutrality. “You two, on the other hand, are being weird and it’s freaking me out.” She crosses her arms expectantly. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Appearing from out of nowhere, Selina drapes herself along Marinette’s shoulders and snags a raspberry scone. “I do believe,” she says as if sharing a secret, “That they are trying to keep you from quitting, kitten.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Why would I quit? I like this job.”

She also likes the Waynes (in general, if not right then) and she likes Selina. The woman was a good mentor who didn’t shy away from the dirtier parts of the job and taught Marinette all she knew. (Even the bits, she noticed, that had little to nothing to do with being a personal assistant and were more likely to be found in the repertoire of a thief.

But, Marinette is in possession of her own sticky fingers and knows how to not ask questions, so. You know—curiosity killed the cat and all.)

She doesn’t voice any of that, but Selina, at least, knows it anyway. Marinette isn’t quiet about her gratitude after all.

“First meetings with the youngest Wayne don’t often go well,” Selina tells her. “In fact, I think he has a habit of making the interns cry.”

Dick makes some kind of offended noise. “Hey! He hasn’t done that since he was twelve!”

Tim elbows him in the ribs and Marinette makes a vaguely skeptical face at all three of them before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She has actual work to get done today and pastries to get rid of before she can even start.

She pats affectionately at Selina’s hand before grabbing as many boxes as she can hold. “Come on you two,” she says to the brothers. “You’re going to help me hand these out to the rest of the company.”

Dick immediately starts doing as told but Tim hesitates, humming thoughtfully. “You know that’s not going to help your whole ‘I’m not actually a Wayne’ thing, right?”

She glares at him. It doesn’t stop Tim from grinning like the utterly unrepentant little shit he is.

***

Things are quiet after the Damian Incident for a whole two weeks. It’s the longest lull Marinette has had since she first started and became somehow involved with the Waynes.

It ends because Dick finds out about the crush Marinette has been nursing on the Head of Security for three months now.

The Head of Security who is Jason Todd: second eldest Wayne sibling and Dick’s brother.

He takes it better than expected.

(Almost, she thinks later, a little too well.)

***

Despite her friendship with Dick and Tim—or perhaps because of it?—Jason had never seemed very interested in her. At first, Marinette had shrugged and counted it as a win; there was one Wayne, at least, who neither found her situation funny nor used it to poke fun at her.

They were on friendly terms, she supposed. Security has always been one of her more regular stops in the building, so she’d spoken to him often enough. He liked complaining that she spoiled his team rotten with all her treats.

But she also noticed that he likes her cherry danishes, so.

And then she noticed how crooked his grin was when he smiled. And how he seemed to have an arsenal of nicknames for everyone he knew. And the small collection of classic romance novels filled with sticky notes he tries and fails to hide in his desk. And, and, and.

It was around the time she began unconsciously memorizing his schedule based on when he was and was not there for her pastry deliveries, that she realized she may have made a misstep somewhere.

Jason was stubborn and passionate and flipped between overly proper and crass light a damn light switch. He was also, as stated, very much not interested in her.

Not that she would’ve pursued him anyway. He was a coworker as well as her friends’ brother.

Now if only one of said brothers could understand that.

“You should ask him out,” Dick suggests not for the first time and Marinette sighs, also not for the first time.

She loves Dick—she truly does—but he has been an aggravating level of unhelpful since he found out about Marinette’s latest romantic disaster.

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

Dick groans, like she’s being the unreasonable one. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because I don’t like embarrassing myself?” she asks rhetorically. “Not everyone can have a fairy tale romance like you and Wally.”

He throws his coffee stirrer at her. “We are not a fairy tale.”

She shoots him a flat look. She’s heard Dick talk about Wally and Tim’s told her all the stories and she was there when he and Wally finally got their shit together. Dick was unbearable for an entire week with his gooey, lovestruck new lease on life.

“You two are the definition of fairy tale. You two make fairy tales look like trashy romance novels.”

He opens his mouth to argue the point before forcibly cutting himself off. “No. Stop distracting me. We’re not talking about that; we’re talking about you and Jason.”

“There is no ‘me and Jason’,” she reminds him through her clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” he says optimistically. Like it’s a fact, like he knows something she doesn’t.

He makes her want to slam her face into a wall. Truly, he does.

***

Dick stops running his HR papers up to her office. Instead, he’s somehow convinced Jason to play errand boy for him even though he literally never looks happy about it. What used to be a flimsy excuse for Dick to slack off for a few minutes and gossip with her has now turned into awkward silence as Jason drops off the papers and leaves without even a ‘hello’.

During their shared breaks, Dick takes to orchestrating ‘chance encounters’ between her and Jason, all but shoving them into each other (and even actually shoving that one time).  She catches Jason shooting dark looks at Dick every time he does it, and if she’d been holding any iota of hope at this point, it’s been smashed to dust. Jason obviously knows of his brother’s meddling and isn’t happy about it.

But Dick just can’t take the hint.

Every failed plan of his makes him steadily worse about it all—more frantic and frustrated and like he wants to strangle her for her stubbornness. (The last feeling being more than mutual.)

Dick’s meddling starts to make her and Jason’s previously friendly, if distant, relationship awkward and embarrassing. With every pointed comment, she gets closer to just punching Dick in the face. Or, maybe, she’ll just tell Wally who really ate all the chocolate strawberry macaroons she made; it’d certainly be more devastating.

***

It all comes to head on a Thursday, after most employees have left for the day. 

They run into each other in a breakroom, and she watches as Jason suddenly goes stiff, eyes flicking over her shoulder to no doubt scan for Dick. That single action makes her expression sour and she slams her empty mug down with more force than was necessary.

For Kwamis sake, he looks like a cornered animal. An image not helped by the way he jumps a foot in the air and stares at her like he’s worried she’ll suddenly lunge at him.

“Can we agree this is ridiculous?” she says abruptly. “I don’t know what Dick is trying to accomplish with his wingman schtick, but we both know it’s not going to work. Can we just… agree that he’s an idiot?”

A complicated look crosses Jason’s face before he snorts wryly. “Yeah, we can agree on that. Dickie-boy has always been a few sandwiches short a picnic.”

“I know things have been awkward between us lately, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope we can keep being friends?” she says hopefully.

“What in the world do you have to be sorry about?” he asks before she can start catastrophizing about the bewildered expression he makes at her words. “It’s not your fault.”

The smile she shoots him is rueful and she shakes her hand in an ‘ehh’ type gesture. “Kinda is. And I understand if the-” she makes a vague gesture between them that she hopes properly conveys ‘my giant, stupid crush on you’, “you know, is too much for you. Just say the word I’ll try and keep out of your way.”

She’s trying to be comforting or understanding or something like that, but all her words seem to do is make him upset. “Absolutely not,” he insists. “Sunshine, you are not going to change your routine just to make me feel better.”

Marinette crosses her arms, frowning up at him. “Why shouldn’t I? If I’m making you uncomfortable-”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Uncomfort- Marinette. ” She jolts a bit at the use of her name. She doesn’t think he’s used it since her second week at W.E. “I’m not sure who made you think otherwise—and if it was Dick just tell me cause I’ll kick his ass —but barring the fact that I still enjoy your friendship regardless of any… feelings-” Marinette concentrates very hard on not showing emotion when he says that, “-it’s not your responsibility to deal with it.”

Okay, but… that makes no sense. Of course her feelings were her responsibility, that’s the whole point of them being hers.

“If it’s not mine, then whose responsibility is it then?” she asks, wondering where the hell his train of thought is running.

“Mine, obviously.”

She gives him a look, complete with narrowed eyes and thinly veiled judgment. “What? Is this some kind of gentleman’s martyr complex? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Jason huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “If me taking responsibility for my own damn feelings is a martyr complex then sure,” he snarks, not unkindly. More like he’s trying to protect himself by retreating behind a sour attitude.

Her mouth is halfway around a retort when his words catch up to her brain and she freezes.

“Your feelings?” she repeats. “Your feelings for… me?”

His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “Those would be the ones.”

Her mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You like me? Seriously?”

His face spasms at the question, starting at anger before he properly looks at her and the surprised expression on her face. He pales.

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” she squeaks, something she hasn’t done since she was fifteen. “Well Dick said but I didn’t believe him!”

And fuck, she thinks. This means Dick knew the whole damn time, didn’t he? Oh, she is so going to kill him the second she gets the chance.

Jason runs a hand down his face, covering his mouth as he gathers his bearings. Suddenly, his eyes shoot back open and land on her. “Wait. If you didn't know, then what the hell were you talking about just now?”

She blushes to the tips of her ears and buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look at him. It was easy when she thought he’d figured it out himself. It’s harder now that she has to tell him. “I- I was talking about my crush on you.”

He’s quiet for so long that she gets antsy and peeks out from behind her fingers to see his expression. He’s still looking at her, but now there’s a wide, crooked smile on his face. The expression softens something in her chest and she lowers her hands.

“Really?” he asks, leaning closer.

Marinette nods, feeling a small smile spread across her lips.

He jolts forward, hands reaching for her before suddenly stopping just shy of touching. She startles a bit at the motion but doesn’t move away.

Jason licks his lips, smile smaller but no less bright. “I- can I?”

She blinks. “Can you what?”

“Kiss you.”

The blush returns full force, but with it also comes a smile, giddy and bright. She nods and no sooner than she does, is he swooping down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. His hands cup her face with a tenderness that makes her smile, makes her giddy, and it’s not long before they’re both smiling too wide to actually kiss and are forced to break apart.

His hands fall to her back, practically engulfing her, and his chin drops onto her head. It’s warm and cozy and she thinks she could so very easily get used to this.

Later, they’re going to have to deal with Dick and Tim and Selina and the teasing they’ll no doubt have to endure—not to mention how much worse the rumors are going to get—but right now? Right now Marinette pulls Jason back down for another kiss and very pointedly doesn’t think about it.

[breadqueen95]

Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier. 

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt. 

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him 

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

“I’m pretty sure every single person would be able to tell I spend my days in tactical gear. God, I’m not sure I even know how to walk in heels this high!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Natasha threw her phone down and looked at you in the mirror. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was giving you her usual ‘don’t give me that shit’ look. It nearly had you shaking in your very strappy black heels.

“Are you kidding me, y/n? I’ve seen you strut in enough fancy parties during undercover missions to know that you’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Wanda scoffed as she took a sip of red wine from her glass, “all she’s nervous about is what Bucky will think.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide how much that sentence affected you.

“C’mon, Wanda. You know Bucky and I are just friends.”

“Do friends undress each other with their eyes whenever they’re in the same room?”

Damn it. Damn Wanda and her stupid perceptiveness.

“You’re reading too much into it, Wanda.” She just laughed at you, acting like she knew so much better.

What you knew and wasn’t ready to admit to your two best friends, was that she was right on the money.

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, your favorite person in the entire world, was now your boyfriend. He had been for a few weeks now. The two of you were insanely private people. Hell, it had been years before the two of you had finally learned everything about each other. Once you had gotten past the walls the other had so carefully crafted, well…

At that point you were in love.

But the others didn’t need to know that, not yet at least. The Avengers were a family, your family. They were really the only true family you’d ever had. But Bucky…Bucky was finally yours. And you were his. You didn’t think it was crazy to just want to enjoy that, just the two of you, without everyone else sharing their jokes and opinions just yet. They did it out of love, you both knew that, but you just wanted him all to yourself.

As you looked back at your reflection in the mirror, you took a minute to really consider what Bucky’s reaction might be. He had the best poker face in the room no matter who he was with, but you knew him well enough to know how he was feeling just based on his eyes. He’d always said how much he loved red on you, and he adored every and any excuse to touch your skin. Those steel blue eyes of his would absolutely burn once he saw you in this dress.

And fuck, that was something you really wanted to see.

“Well, if you aren’t going to wear that dress, you better pick something else,” Nat said, jerking you from your fantasies, “we need to be there in twenty minutes, and we all need to touch up our makeup.”

“Actually…I think I’ll wear it,” you said confidently, trying to hide your grin as you ran your hands down the silky fabric.

What you didn’t see was Natasha and Wanda sharing a secret smirk behind you, like they’d known what you’d do the whole time.

***

Six weeks ago, everything had changed for you and Bucky.

You’d known how you felt for a long time. Bucky Barnes, despite his past, was the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. He was sincere, kind, generous, witty…everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. He had been your best friend for even longer.

It had been a long time before you could even admit your feelings to yourself, let alone to him. After everything the two of you had been through, who had the time and mental capacity for romance? It just didn’t seem important. You just chalked up your feelings to being such close friends. All you wanted was to be near him, even if you just sat in silence doing different things. Just being in the same room as Bucky brought you a sort of peace you’d never had before. Whenever he touched you, even if it was just a brief hug or brushing your back to get past you, your skin erupted into goosebumps. But that was just because physical touch was still foreign to you, right?

And his smile. God, his wonderful smile…

Bucky didn’t smile much. He hid behind a mask of stoicism, a remnant from the trauma of his horrible history as the Winter Soldier. Showing any sort of emotion, especially happiness, was hard for him. But when he finally let himself smile? It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever see.        

It took several sleepless nights wrestling with those confusing feelings to figure it out. You didn’t just see Bucky as your best friend. You had it bad. Not just “oh my god he’s so handsome” bad, like the “I would take a bullet for you I’m so in love” bad. That revelation? It left you euphoric. It also left you scared.

Because you were so sure Bucky didn’t feel the same. And that thought was like a knife to the heart every time it flashed through your mind.

So you kept it to yourself. You tried to keep things as normal as possible, but your heart kept fluttering whenever he walked into a room. Being so close to Bucky meant you confided in each other about pretty much everything, and he knew you well enough to know you were hiding something.

It all exploded on a Tuesday night in the compound.

Tuesdays were your movie nights. Bucky had a lot of pop culture to catch up on, so on this night every week he would come by your room to watch a movie. It was a weekly tradition that kind of started by accident. You were shocked he still hadn’t made time to watch Lord of the Rings, so you forced him onto your couch with popcorn and The Fellowship of the Ring. He loved it so much, and immediately asked if you guys could watch The Two Towers the next week. How could you say no to him?

Tonight, you were watching 13 Going on 30. It was your all-time favorite romcom, and you figured you could both use a break from all the action and fantasy movies you’d been cycling through. Something with a happy ending was worth indulging in.

“Does that Matt guy look like Banner to you? Or is it just me?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Heh, maybe a little,” you said, “Give or take a few years.” He laughed at that, and you forced yourself to laugh quietly. You wanted to blurt out your feelings every time you looked at Bucky, so you’d gotten quieter and quieter every time you spent time with him. It was an awful reaction, and you knew he noticed. But it was better than losing his friendship, right?

After that awful and painfully obvious forced laugh, Bucky let out a huge sigh and paused the movie. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then turned to face you. Exasperation and hurt glimmered in his eyes.

“Y/n, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that,” he said sharply, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact there’s something you’re not telling me. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, god no!” You exclaimed.

“Well it must be something I did, because you’ve never been this quiet around me and it keeps getting worse. I hate it, and I want to know what I did so I can fix it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious, it’s nothing you did—”

“Then why? Why are you shutting me out?” He cut you off angrily, arms thrown wide. “You’re my best friend, I just don’t get why—”

“I don’t want you like a best friend, Bucky!” Your eyes went wide as the words flew from your lips. In the most comical way, you clapped your hand over your mouth as if you could stop the words that had already been said. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Oh fuck. He didn’t get it. Curse him and his old man ways.

“What does that even mean, Y/n? Are you saying you don’t want me around anymore?”

“Bucky, of course not. God, I would never want that. Never in a million years.”

“Then you better explain, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m over 100 years old. I need a little help here.”

“It means, uh…um,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together. “Is there any chance we can just forget I said that?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

“It means…it means that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

His entire face seemed to crinkle as he processed that. If you weren’t freaking out, you’d be obsessing over how damn cute it made him look. Then his eyes got wide as he began to make the connection. Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass as his eyes lifted again to meet yours.

“I…I think I know what you’re saying,” he nearly whispered, “I just need you to get real specific real fast, because I’m not about to say anything until I know exactly what you mean.”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” You burst out. Even through your mortification, there was a sudden sense of relief. A secret as big as that had definitely been weighing you down. Now that it was out there, that was one less thing you had to worry about.

His eyes grew even wider. How that was possible, you didn’t even know. That beautiful mouth of his began to turn up into a small smile as he gazed softly at you.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked, his smile getting wider with each passing second.

“What, you need it carved into stone or something?” You couldn’t help but sass him. Did you fucking stutter?

“No, it’s just…I never thought you’d feel that way about me.”

“Well, clearly I do. So you – wait, you mean you’ve thought about this before?”

“Of course I have,” he said as he shrugged, “I’ve been in love with you for two years now, how could I not think about it?”

You were instantly filled with warmth and pure bliss. In all your obsessing over your own feelings, you’d never allowed yourself to consider that he might feel the same about you. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out, holding a hand up, “you’re telling me you’ve been into me for two years and didn’t say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He shot back, inching closer to you.

“Because you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid feelings I have.”

“But…I have those same ‘stupid feelings’ for you. So can we just cut the whole act and get on with it?” Bucky brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin so gently.

“Uh…um…get on with what?”

“Well I’d kinda like to kiss you, if you’re cool with it.”

“Bucky Barnes did you just use current slang to ask if you could kiss me?” You didn’t move an inch as his face moved right in front of yours, breath intermingling as you gazed into each other’s eyes. God, was this really happening?

“Yeah, guess your lessons worked,” he murmured.

“Well you better kiss me, then.”

As soon as your lips met, it was like coming home.

***

That memory, your favorite memory, replayed in your head as the three of you stepped into the elevator. Nat and Wanda were happily chatting about who would be there, what kind of antics Tony would cook up tonight, if there would be music we could actually dance to. You know, normal party things.

All you could think about was how long you had to stay until you could sneak off with your boyfriend.

You were so happy Wanda and Natasha had convinced you to wear this dress. When you’d first put it on, the difference from your normal look was so jarring that it took you a few minutes to get used to it. But now that you had, now that you felt the silky fabric shifting against your skin as you moved, now that you saw how dangerously long your legs looked in these heels…

Damn, you felt sexy.

And that sexy feeling? It made you want Bucky’s hands all over you.

But this was a party. A party thrown by Tony Stark, one of the most perceptive and observant people you’d ever met. If you left too soon, if he thought you weren’t “having enough fun”, he’d be more than a little upset. So you had to stay, drink, mingle, maybe dance a little…and then, maybe later, you could go do what you actually wanted.

The elevator pinged, indicating you had reached the topmost floor of the compound. This floor was home to a huge communal space, often used for just hanging out with the team. But on nights like tonight, Tony went all out and turned the space into something that resembled…a club?

The three of you stepped out into the massive room, upbeat music already blasting from the speakers. Typical Tony – he never really outgrew his love for dancing and parties. The bass thrummed through your body, making you want to move to the music. The lights were dim, but you could still tell who was around. It looked like you were some of the last members of the team to arrive. There was a huge bar off to the side, and Natasha headed that way right away. You turned to ask Wanda if she wanted to follow Nat, but she was already making a beeline for Vision. Smiling, you just turned right back around to follow Natasha. A drink sounded pretty good right now.

As you made your way to the bar, you felt more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you walked. You sneakily looked around as you went, noticing men and women watching you with admiration, and dare you say it, longing. As someone whose job was to blend in with the background all the time, this was a different and slightly addictive feeling. You leaned on the bar next to Nat right as the bartender slid her drink over to her.

“Straight whiskey tonight? Damn, going hard.” You quipped.

“Hey now, you know I can handle my liquor. It’s you we need to watch out for, you lightweight.”

Laughing, you scanned the party guests, looking for the one person you wanted to see. Tony had had arm around Pepper’s waist, both laughing at something Rhodey had said. Bruce lingered around them, drink in hand and looking a little nervous, but still happy to be included. Wanda and Vision were sitting quietly on one of the couches, both looking absolutely smitten with each other. Scott Lang, one of the newest additions, was busting some moves, while Peter Parker laughed as he watched. Thor, who was visiting from Asgard, laughed boisterously as he watched various guests try to lift his hammer. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face. You loved these people so much.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky was with Sam and Steve, as usual. But even as Sam and Steve were talking animatedly next to him, those gorgeous blue eyes of his were glued to you. There was a kind of intensity in them you hadn’t seen before. Your breath whooshed from you body as he grinned at you. Trying to maintain the suggestive image your dress gave you, you managed to send a flirtatious smile his way, then turned back around to face the bar. Leaning against the counter, you knew he’d get an eyeful of your bare back. God, this was fun.

The bartender finally made his way over to you, and you ordered two tequila shots.

Nat turned to you, one eyebrow arched in surprise as she asked, “And you say I’m going hard? You can’t just down two shots right away, babe.”

“I’m not doing two shots; you think I’m stupid?” The bartender slid the shots over to you along with two lime wedges. “One is clearly for you.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Natasha put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her side as she said, “Why the fuck not, let’s do it.” The two of you went through the process: salt, shot, lime. You couldn’t help but wince as you downed the harsh liquor. Of all the shots in the world, tequila probably tasted the worst. The only reason you kept going for it was the warmth it traced down your body, and you felt your muscles begin to loosen up.

“Two more,” you called over to the bartender.

“Uh, no,” Natasha shot at you, grabbing her whiskey, and pushing off the bar, “I’m good with my top shelf shit, you keep going after that gasoline if you want but I’m out.”

“C’mon, Nat,” you called out, “what am I gonna do with two shots?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else, babe.” She said with a wave over her shoulder.

Sighing, you turned back to the ridiculously pretty bar (seriously, how much had Tony paid for this thing?). Who else would help you look cool and sexy at a bar for your secret boyfriend?

Okay, that was the cringiest thought you’d ever had. Gross.

As the bartender slid the tequila in front of you, you steeled yourself for the nastiness that was about to happen.

“Fuck, I didn’t think this through,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, you tend to do that,” a deep voice answered on your right. Instead of being the slightest bit surprised, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Something I can do for you, Barnes?” You looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got an extra shot there. Thought I could bail you out.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky shifted so that your arms were just barely touching. His hand was right next to yours, and you reached out with your pinky to lightly brush his.

“Doll, you have the gall to show up in that dress and ask what I want as if you don’t already know?”

“Sorry Buck, I’m a little slow, must be the tequila. You should probably be a little clearer.”

Putting on quite the show of reaching for one of the shots, his mouth somehow ended up right next to your ear.

“I want you.”

It was lucky everyone was so distracted and couldn’t see how you shuddered at his words. Trying to maintain brain function, you managed to take the shot with him. You were now fully facing each other. He was wearing the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen, one that would put Tony Stark to shame. You couldn’t help but respond with that same energy despite the jitteriness his three little words had reduced you to.

“Well why don’t you—”

“Hello, my friends!” A booming voice sounded between you as Thor threw a huge arm over each of you. Bucky, with his stupid super soldier strength, didn’t really have a reaction to it. You, on the other hand, stumbled a little under the weight and force of it. “It’s so good to be back with you tiny humans.”

Was…was he slurring his words?

“Thor…are you drunk right now?”

He simply laughed in response. Well, that answered that.

“Of course I am, tiny person! It can’t be a party without good Asgardian wine.”

“Wait…you have literal god wine?” Bucky, who had a look of vague irritation on his face up to this point, now looked interested. Maybe even a little excited?

“Of course, metal appendage.”

“Dude, you can’t just call Bucky ‘metal appendage’—”

“He can if he lets me have some,” Bucky interrupted.

“We have a bargain!” Thor slapped Bucky on the back before scurrying back over to where he had come from, probably to get the wine he had promised.

“Bucky, you can’t even get drunk,” you hissed, “what exactly is the point of this?”

“Since everything happened, I haven’t found any alcohol strong enough to get me drunk. I figure god wine is worth a shot.”

“Bucky—”

“When I kiss you against a wall later, I wanna be a little tipsy,” he whispered in your ear, “that cool with you?”

Unable to keep yourself from smiling again, you nodded as Thor sauntered back over. Ever since that moment a few weeks ago, right before he kissed you for the first time, asking “is that cool with you?” had become your thing.

And the idea of Bucky kissing you against a wall? Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

As it turns out, Asgardian wine is just as potent as Thor had promised.

For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was certifiably drunk. It made him feel like the Bucky from all those years ago, and it was the most incredible thing. Here he was, over 100 years old, partying, and all his favorite people were here.

Including his ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Even as they both flitted around the party, Bucky and y/n still found each other’s eyes, even from across the room. They would send winks, smiles, even funny faces. All he wanted to do was be right next to her, talk and dance with her all night…

But they had agreed. They wanted to keep their relationship a secret for now, keep the attention off of them for a bit while they got to know each other in this new way.

But god damn, that dress.

Y/n in red was…indescribable. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But in red? In this dress?

She was breathtaking.

“Buck, you breathing?”

A hand waved in front of his face, snapping Bucky’s attention back to the people around him from Y/n’s back. He had been imagining putting his hands all over that back later and had gotten more than a little mesmerized. He managed to get his eyes to refocus, finding a drunk Sam smirking right next to him and an even drunker Steve dancing next to him. But what Steve was doing couldn’t really be called ‘dancing’ per say…more like an aggressive wiggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?” Of all the things he could’ve said to get Sam’s attention off of him, that wasn’t it.

“Uh, probably because the girl you’re in love with decided to show up and show off tonight? Pretty sure you’re drooling, man.”

Despite himself, Bucky slapped a hand across his mouth, only reducing Sam to wheezing laughter. Knowing he had been caught, he rolled his eyes and grimaced a little. Of all the people to catch him, he wished it hadn’t been Sam.

“I wasn’t…staring… at y/n, I just never see her dressed up is all.”

“I never said anything about the girl being y/n.”

“…fuck.”

“LANGUAGE,” Steve yelled out, pointing a finger at his two friends before returning to his shimmying.

Turning back to him, Sam added, “Just go be with her, Buck. You’re not fooling anyone, and neither is she.”

“We’re that obvious?”

“A few weeks ago you’d at least try to hide it. Now I’m surprised you’re not jumping each other’s bones right here right now.”

“Point taken,” Bucky said, lightly slapping Sam’s shoulder before power walking over to his girl.

***

“Nat, if you don’t stop asking about Bucky and I’s relationship, I’m going to kick you,” you called over the music before taking another swig from your glass. It was no Asgardian wine, but the human stuff wasn’t half bad in your opinion. It wasn’t like you could drink the god shit, anyway. If you had even one sip, you’d be swinging from the ceiling like Miley fucking Cyrus. You were pretty drunk as it was.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug as she took a sip of her whiskey, still as calm and collected as ever. “You’re almost as drunk as he is, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

“Oh? Is that your spy master plan?”

Natasha was still looking as unbothered as ever, but as she looked across the room over your shoulder, her face split into a savage grin.

“It was, but it looks like I might not need it.”

“What do you me—”

Your words were cut off as a large, warm hand enclosed around yours. Whirling around, you were suddenly face to face with the man himself. Bucky was clearly having a good time. His mouth was relaxed into the cutest smile you’d ever seen him wear, and he moved without his normal stiffness and intensity. He threaded your fingers together, smiling down at you with so much love it was a wonder Nat hadn’t said anything yet.

Looking back in front of you, ready to explain yourself, you only found empty air. Guess she’d seen all she needed to, but honestly, you really didn’t care. All you’d wanted the whole night was to be exactly where you were right now; hand in hand with the man you loved.

“We’re just kidding ourselves, doll,” Bucky called next to your ear, “Sam said we’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Nat said the same,” you answered with a sheepish smile, “kind of hard to keep my face under control when you’ve got that leather jacket on.”

“You’re blaming me?” He asked with mock indignation. “You’re the one who looks,” he gestured wildly to your whole body, “like that!”

Trying ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks, you shot back, “Like what?”

“Like the most…” he screwed his face up in the most adorable way as he searched for words, “like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” As the last few words tumbled out of his mouth, he gazed at you with such a softness you almost melted right into the floor.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked, finally giving up the game. It was pointless, really. Now, all you wanted to do was for your boyfriend to keep his promise and kiss you against a wall.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he answered, “Absolutely.” Without looking at a single soul, the two of you began walking as quickly as you could for the exit. You and Bucky were both leaning on each other a bit, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway, you blinked as your eyes adjusted after the dark room you’d spent the last few hours in. Bucky led you until you were right in front of the elevator, and he lazily pressed the button to go up. There was tension in the air between you, like a thread that was being pulled. Biting your lip, you stared at the doors in front of you. You knew if you so much as looked at the man next to you, you’d jump him right then and there.

The shining doors slid open, and the pair of you walked in, his strong arm still around your waist. His grip wasn’t loose in any sense of the word. Bucky kept you right next to him, even as your legs wanted to drift all over the place. You pressed the button for the residential floor.

As soon as those doors slid shut, that thread of tension snapped.

Bucky whirled you to face him, then walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall of the elevator.

“I promised I’d kiss you against the wall, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even wait for a response. His mouth was on yours in an instant, lips moving together like a dance. The kiss was slow and unhurried. You tried to bring him closer, linking your hands behind his neck and pressing yourself to him. Instead of responding in kind, he unwound your arms from around him and pinned them above your head.

Oh damn.

Okay.

No complaints here.

“You’ve been teasin’ me all night just by wearing that dress, sweetheart,” he murmured in between the kisses he trailed down your jaw, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Would it change your mind knowing I only wore this dress so you could take it off?”

The heat that bloomed in those blue eyes of his was unmistakable. As the doors opened on your floor, he swept you up into his arms and began to walk purposefully to his apartment. All the while, he kept that signature cocky smirk of his you’d come to adore.

“Bucky?” You asked once he’d walked into his unit.

“That sentence was the single most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” he murmured as he set you down. Even still, he kept you pressed against him. “But nah, I’m a patient guy. I think I’ll take my time.” He followed this by resuming his slow and sensual kisses, and you couldn’t help but melt into them.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that, doll. I love you too.”

***

[plus-size-reader]

Domestic

Natasha Romanoff x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2000 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Nat has a super cute wifey who likes to have mass dinners for all the avengers at their home

—————————————————————————————————

The arrangement that Clint had for Laura and the kids had worked for him.

By all accounts, most people didn’t even know that they existed, which in this life, certainly helped to keep them alive.

Having people that you loved made you vulnerable, and it also put all of their lives in danger. Clint knew that all too well, and made sure that no one would know who or where they were in order to protect them.

It was a good plan, a smart plan, and when you and Natasha got married, she wanted the same thing for you.

You were the love of her life, and one of the only people in the world she truly cared for. She had spent her entire life sure that she would never fall in love, or get too close to anyone, but you had easily broken down all those walls.

That made you more valuable than gold to her.

You were her everything, and if hiding you away was what she’d have to do to keep you safe, no one would need to know about you. It had been easy for Clint, and others like him, so there was no reason it couldn’t work for her too.

Fury understood that Natasha wasn’t taking this issue lightly, so he and Colson took special precautions to make sure that no one would ever be able to find you unless they had high enough clearance and couldn’t be registered as a threat.

After all, Nat had no shortage of enemies and getting ahold of you would be all they would be after.

You were valuable to them too, for a much different reason.

Getting to you would put Natasha in quite the predicament. Using you as leverage, there was virtually nothing they couldn’t find out, which meant it was in S.H.I.E.L.Ds best interest to keep you hidden too.

They had too many secrets to keep, and Natasha held the key to most of them.

So, she kept you hidden away.

It was safer for the two of you to just keep the love you shared under wraps and you didn’t mind that. You understood that there could be real danger if you weren’t careful.

It was just something you had to do if you wanted to be with her, and you certainly did. Quite frankly, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her, even if it meant uprooting your whole life and practically going into witness protection.

However, staying there forever wasn’t an option either.

As with all things, nothing could stay a secret forever. At some point, the secret was bound to get out to someone; though, it wasn’t as detrimental as you had always assumed it would be when it finally came to light.

The visitors you had were more than welcome.

The knock at your door wasn’t one you had been expecting, but when you opened it, you were anything but worried.

Standing there, entirely unannounced, was the woman you’d married and all of the avengers.

“What are you doing here?” you gasped, throwing your arms around her shoulders before she could so much as say hello. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be so open right away, but you didn’t care.

You hadn’t seen Natasha in months, and you weren’t sure you could hold back much longer with her right in front of you.

Living out here, while safe, was lonely.

Still, Natasha with as much as she missed you was paranoid by nature. Even this much, out in the open, made her nervous.

“Inside honey” she reminded gently, gingerly walking you back until you were safely within the confines of your home. It was only when the door was closed and locked with all of you inside that Nat visibly relaxed.

Understandably, she was uneasy about this whole thing.

Not only was she telling them all about you and the secret she’d been hiding for years at this point, but she was also gathering all the people she cared about in one place.

With a past like hers, it was a little stressful.

Though, she also found some amount of comfort in getting to see you again after all this time. The recent events had made it hard to sneak off and visit you without attracting suspicious or unwanted attention.

There was silence for a moment or two as the waiting crowd tried to figure out what was going on, or what about this place made it Natasha’s very important stop. She had been very clear that they couldn’t go anywhere until they came here.

There had to be a reason it was so important.

Natasha had never done anything like this before, and until this moment, they were sure that she didn’t have any personal connections to anything or anywhere. A woman like her, doing what she did, didn’t get that luxury.

...or, at least, they didn’t think so.

Almost immediately, of course, Tony connected the dots.

There was just something about the way she looked at you, and the way you looked back at her in turn, he’d seen it a million times before. He’d seen it in his own parents on the rare occasions they weren’t fighting.

You were in love.

The fact that he didn’t know you existed until today, or the fact that she’d hidden so much from him didn’t bother Tony in the least. In the lives they lived, everyone had their secrets, no one more so than Natasha.

If anything, he was glad she’d chosen to share with them now.

“This is your special lady, isn’t it?” he teased, doing his best not to be as awkward as he was sure it was coming across. Natasha was just so cagey about the things in her life, especially her love life, and this was news to him.

Good news, but news none-the-less.

You weren’t entirely sure what to say at first, taking your place at Natasha’s side. You knew who they were, of course, and you’d heard a lot about them but you had never had the privilege of meeting any of them before.

You didn’t get to meet many new people ever, for that matter. You were a little concerned that your people skills had gotten rusty.

It was impossible to know who was dangerous or not, and you didn’t want to risk running into the wrong kind. Being on high alert made it really hard to connect with people, even when you were sure they were safe.

It was new for you.

“This is my wife, Y/N” Natasha hummed, practically beaming as she finally said those words out loud. She had never had the privilege before, but this seemed like the perfect place to finally make it happen.

This was safe.

These people were safe, and even with as nervous as you were to be meeting them, you knew that Nat would never bring anyone even remotely dangerous to meet you.

The fact that she trusted them enough to bring them to your home meant that she trusted them, and if she trusted them, you could too. So, rather than hide behind your beautiful wife all night, you stood up a little straighter and decided to just give this thing a try.

“Hello, you must be the avengers” you tried, ignoring how strange the sentence sounded falling from your lips. It was hardly a normal thing to say, and hardly the most smooth delivery you’d ever given but it wasn’t the worst.

...And no one seemed too offended by it.

All in all, it was an okay icebreaker, and before too long, conversation was swelling all around you. You had gotten ready to start dinner when they arrived, so it seemed like the perfect thing to busy yourself with while they talked and checked out your home.

It was a cute little place, one Nat had practically fallen in love with, partially because of the close family floorplan and mostly because of the isolation.

The two of you sometimes talked about getting a bigger place, or moving somewhere far away from here, but for the pair of you, this house was just fine. It was decorated nicely, your way of having some agency over the situation you’d been put in with pictures and artwork everywhere.

“So, you’ve just been living here? Isn’t that a little difficult?” Steve asked, sitting down across from the island where you were stirring a bowl of what looked to be pasta salad.

This whole thing was blowing his mind.

In general, most everyone else had come to accept the arrangement you two shared as just part of being married to a spy but Captain America was less used to this whole thing, even now. The idea of hiding away your life partner was blowing his mind, even for safety's sake.

It seemed like it would be hard.

“It isn’t easy, but it’s just what we have to do. Nat’s made a lot of enemies over the years” you shrugged, doing your very best to explain the situation in the same way you did with everyone else.

It was just how it was.

You sometimes dreamed of what it would be like if you didn’t have to live like this. If you and Natasha could just go strolling down the street, hand in hand, without the fear of being kidnapped and tortured in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately though, that fear was justified. There were people everywhere who would have gladly gotten their hands on you, in this country, and all over the world.

“Well, you’ve got some allies in your corner now too” he smiled, finishing what was left of his glass of juice and then going to look through your wedding album with the others on the couch.

Clint had snatched it from the shelf as soon as he came in, after giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead as he always did, and insisted on showing it to the others. Your wedding pictures were some of his favorites, especially because he’d been the only other person in attendance to the event.

You hoped that for your sake, Steve was right. You had grown so accustomed to seeing everyone else in the world as a threat that it would be nice to know that you had some friends in this world as well.

“You forgot to stir the noodles, honey” Nat grinned, gliding past you to the stove where the pot was bubbling away. You had a habit of getting a little far off, especially in a kitchen setting, with a million thoughts swirling around in your head.

It was something you hated, but couldn't seem to get a handle on, but Natasha found it endearing.

It reminded her of the first time you’d offered to make her dinner and ended up burning most of the spaghetti to the bottom of the pan.

It reminded her of why she’d fallen in love with you in the first place.

~

Eventually, with the quick rescue of the spaghetti from Nat, dinner was ready which meant that your small, meant for two dining room, was full to the brim with assassins, super soldiers, and avengers of all varieties.

It wasn’t exactly how you saw tonight going, but as everyone crowded around the dining room table, you were anything but upset about that.

This was what you’d always wanted. A house full of guests, a warm dinner spread out over the entire table, and the love of your life at your side.

It was absolutely perfect.

You didn’t get to experience things like this very often, but you had a feeling that now that it had happened, this was going to be an ongoing occurrence for you and Natasha, who enjoyed these things much more than she’d ever admit.

After all, this group was her family, and it wasn’t going to kill her to be a little domestic from time to time.

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS IV | MATTHEW GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 3.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Love Affair - UMI

Debt - Eliza McLamb

Sometimes Sunshine - Seasalt

A nonstop flight, from New York City to Los Angeles, is three hours long. On a good day. And May 16 was supposed to be a good day. A great day. The best day of Matthew’s life. He tries not to think about it, not to reminisce too often. About the way he walked through the airport with a little jog, a little pep in his step. And the way he smiled through security, and constantly checked behind him as if you would magically appear. The roses he bought for you in a gift shop near the terminal.

See, a nonstop flight from New York City to Los Angeles is three hours long. On a good day. But Matthew wasn’t looking for three hours. He wasn’t asking you for a few hours of your time, or even a good day. He was asking you for a lifetime.

And that day, he had booked you two a connecting flight that totaled over six hours, with a two hour layover in Colorado. There was a little ice cream shop in the Denver airport, and they served blueberry ice cream. Matthew remembered it was your favorite, and saved just enough money to get your tickets and an entire pint. He couldn’t shake the thought of flying across the country with you, seeing a few small parts of it at a time. A few small parts at a time, until someday, you two had seen the whole world together.

He bought a blanket for you and, while waiting at the terminal, he sat it in the seat beside him, keeping it warm for when you would arrive. He had a little itinerary written in his notes app, and so far everything was going to plan. He had a bouquet of roses in his lap, and he killed time by looking up engagement rings online.

He didn’t start to worry until maybe, an hour, an hour and a half before the plane was set to depart. He called you, just to check in, and it went straight to voicemail. But he was still hopeful. There was very little that could destroy his peace that day. His hope. His happiness.

He tries not to think about it. The way the seconds inched by like a caterpillar moving across the limb of a tree. Slowly, painfully. The way his hope dwindled, and dwindled, and the insane amount of times he heard,

Hey, it’s [y/n]! Leave a message!

He can’t think about it anymore. The way he spents those six hours alone. Bawling his way through flight after flight, and eating a pint of blueberry ice cream by himself. He spent hours on his own. And weeks, months, hell, he spent years thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would find your way back to him.That the universe would magically correct itself.

And you’d come home.

Fifteen.

It took him fifteen years to find you again. It took fifteen years for the universe to bring you back together, and Matthew spent the first five thinking it was all some really shitty nightmare. It took him fifteen years to get close to you, to hear you say his name again, to get inside of you again.

And he managed to fuck it all up in a matter of twenty-four hours.

His body is paralyzed. His mind is moving a mile a minute, and he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. He knows he should not feel sorry for himself. That he, alone, is responsible for this wreck. But he can’t seem to shake it. He can’t seem to move.

“What the hell did I do?”

A knock at your door wakes you up. You don’t remember falling asleep, you don’t know how you were able to. But now, it’s all you want to do. You want to stay in the bed, in a state of unconsciousness and dreariness where you can’t remember your mistakes. But someone is knocking. Incessantly, loudly. And they won’t stop.

You roll out of bed, and drag your body across the floor. Zombie like, your shoulders are slouched, your eyes are hooded. Your feet shuffle along the floor like they’re weighted to the hardwood. Your footsteps are slow, hesitant. You don’t know what you’ll do if Matthew is on the other side of that door. You just . . . you don’t know. The very thought of it is making your stomach churn, and you suddenly feel very, very nauseous. The banging continues, and it’s as someone is using all their force. Like they’d break the door down if they could.

“[y/n]!”

You instantly relax at the sound of her voice. You speed up, hurry to the door, “[y/n] [y/l/n]! I know you can hear me! Open up!”

The door swings open and you catch her with her fist in the air, ready to strike the door once again. She’s pissed, doesn’t try to hide it, couldn’t hide it even if she tried.

“Good morning,” you rasp.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” she corrects you, pushing her way into your home.

“Please,” you say, shutting the door behind her. “Come on in.”

“Y’know,” Everest starts, clasping her hands in front of her as a wild look graces her face. “You’ve always been one of the good ones . . . hell, you’ve been . . . great, if that’s the word. You’re better than the others. The ones that really write my checks. But, um, you’re testing me, [y/n].”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Now, if there’s is some magical relationship blooming, or a monumental disaster about to strike, then you need to tell me now, so I can fix it. I’m a fixer, you know, that’s what I do. So, why are you making this so hard for me?”

“If it . . .” you clear your throat, cross your arms as you stare at her feet. “If it makes you feel any better, um, this is hard for me, too.” You attempt to joke. But you just sound sad.

“Yeah?” she raises her eyebrows. “So hard that you come out of his hotel in tears? And what the hell were you doing over there anyway? Was there a plan? Did he call you to come over?”

“I don’t see how any of this matters.”

“It matters because I woke up at seven in the morning — on a saturday — to all sorts of choas and speculation, and picture evidence of you doing exactly what I told you not to do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a idiot. Don’t worry, that’s been established.”

“The internet is undefeated. Okay? People are . . . great at making up stories, making assumptions. And as your publicist, I need to know the whole story, the real story, before it gets twisted even further.”

You sigh, and walk over to the couch. As you sit down, you pull a pillow into your lap for just a little bit of comfort. “What do you mean the whole story?”

“Wrong choice of words,” Everest says. “The important parts of the whole story. Like are you dating him? Are you fucking him? If so, how long has this been going on?”

You can’t make eye contact as you speak, “I . . . fucked . . . him . . . a few times, a long time ago . . .”

She nods. She motions at you to continue, “. . . And?”

“And . . .” you breathe out. “I fucked him, again. Recently.”

“Last night? At the hotel?”

“Last night . . . not at the hotel.”

“Sooo, when? — Oh, my God,” she lowers her eyebrows at you, purses her lips. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you nod. It’s a shameful nod. “You know they say there’s no sex like sex in a dressing room.”

“They also say polka dots are making a comeback, you believe everything you hear?”

“Sorry.”

“So you fuck him in the dressing room, and?”

“And . . . we go our seperate ways . . . again. And, then I realize that’s a lot easier said then done, so I . . . I go for him. I go for him . . .” Everest can hear the way your voice is cracking, the way the weight on your shoulder is slowly pushing the air out of your lungs. “And, uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it didn’t work out. Hence the . . . photos of me crying, I guess.”

“Mm,” she nods, crosses her arms. “And the other girl?”

You freeze, cut your head up at her. “What other girl?”

“What do you mean? The girls that came out right behind you. Same sad face? Kinda got a Natalie Portman look to her?”

“I . . .” you shake your head. “I didn’t know she came out after me, I must have left by then.”

“Who is she?”

You give her a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“His girlfriend?”

You huff, “Guess so.”

“Ah, so, some people online actually got it right. Huh, look at that.”

“Look, if the point of all of this is to keep me away from him, you can stop now. I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

The doorbell rings, as if on queue, and Everest instantly gives you a look. “What?” you ask. “I don’t know who it is. Your guess is as good as mine.”

She scoffs at you, and turns around, marching towards the door with a certain determination. She pulls it open, and immediately puts her hand on her hip. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh,” Matthew gasps. “Uh, oh . . . fuck . . . sorry, I must — I must have the wrong house.”

“You sure do, Romeo.”

You stand from the couch, your face laced with shock and anger and confusion, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t engage, [y/n], what the hell?” Everest interjects.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you find my house?” you direct at Matthew.

“Oh, what?” he scoffs. “Like you’re the only one around here who can play stalker?”

“Go home, Matthew.”

“Five minutes. I’m asking you for five minutes. You can time me if you want.”

“Go back to California, Matthew.”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know, but —“

“Do you?” you snap. You take slow, calculated steps towards the front door, and your voice is lowering to a rumble. “Do you know that you fucked up? Because, if you did, if you truly knew just how badly you fucked up, then you would leave. You would get on a fucking plane and leave, and you would never come back!”

The way Matthew is looking at you right now.Like he can’t fathom what’s happening. Like he is trying his very best not to feel defeated. “Can I . . . can I just —“

“No.” Everest says. “You heard her. Fuck off, string bean.”

You walk away, retiring to your kitchen. You try to keep yourself busy, but you’re trembling like mad and you can barely breathe.

Matthew leaves. You know because you hear the door close. Everest comes into the kitchen, and you feel stuck. Frozen to the spot and position you’re in. Your back is to her, and you can’t begin to imagine or guess what look is on her face right now.

She’s quiet for a moment, eyeing you with her arms crossed at her chest. She leans against the entryway and sighs, “Tell me more.”

Ramona walks up your driveway, and it isn’t until she looks up from her phone that she sees Matthew. She notices him, and he notices her, and Ramona tries to act like it didn’t happen, But when Matthew opens his mouth to speak, she blows past him, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know,” he says instantly. He is well aware, but it doesn’t stop him from running in front of her, blocking her from your front door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but . . . please, can you give this [y/n]?”

Matthew holds out an envelope. It’s bright red, your name is printed on the front of it in his handwriting.

Ramona glances at it, but she quickly glances back up, “Do I look like a mailman to you?”

“She won’t take it from me. She won’t talk to me. She might take it from you.”

“Yeah, or she might fire me for even taking it from you in the first place.”

“[y/n] wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s usually pretty amazing, except for when you’re around, or when you’re brought up, or when you’re fucking with her head. You make her a different person, dude. I want no part of it.”

He nods, looks down, “Fair enough . . . I’ll put it in her mailbox.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” She shrugs, and she continues on by him.

“Damn . . .” Everest says. “You ghosted the guy at the airport?”

“Basically,” you shrug.

“Well, fuck,” she scoffs. “That is some serious great gatsby shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

The doorbell rings, and you both turn your heads sharply towards the entrance. “You don’t think he would come back, do you?” Everest asks as she walks to the door.

“Well, he never listens much to anything I say, but he’s probably a little scared of you.”

She laughs, and when she opens the door, she tells you it’s only Ramona, who walks in quickly, looking for you. She gives you a soft smile, and joins you in the kitchen as Everest follows close behind.

“So,” Ramona pips. “What’s the game plan?”

“You and [y/n] come to my office in the city and we’ll figure it out. Hey, did you pass him on your way out?” Everest asks her.

“Uh, who?”

“Matthew,” you tell her. “He was just here, you didn’t see him?”

“He was here?” Ramona questions, putting on a look of bewilderment. “When?”

“Just now. He left right before you got here.” Everest explains.

“Holy shit,” Ramona says. “What’d he want?”

“[y/n].”

“So,” you interrupt. “Your office? Now? We can go ahead and get going.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everest stops you in your tracks, throwing her hands up. “Not so fast, you . . . you need to shower first.”

You look down at your outfit. You’re still dressed in Claire’s clothes and they’re completely disheveled. You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth since the last time you had sex, and the very thought makes you feel dirty. You look exactly how you feel. You sigh, “Fair enough.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Everest nods, and motions to Ramona to follow her.

“What are we gonna do with her?” she says to Ramona as soon as they’re out of the house and walking down the driveway.

“I don’t know, she’s my boss . . . I can only help so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known [y/n] for a long time now, and she’s never needed saving. But, something tells me we’re going to have to keep her away from this one.”

“From Matthew?” Ramona stops in her tracks.

“Well,” Everest stops, turns around to look at her. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll do what she wants. But, that zombie in there,” she motions to the house. “Who walks around the city in her pajamas for a man, is not [y/n]. Atleast, not the world’s [y/n]. People love her. She’s one of the few celebrities that’s kind and passionate and isn’t problematic. I’m just being proactive here.”

“Proactive?”

“She says she’s done with him. She told him she’s done with him. Now, we will just keep her on that path. Few months later, she and the rest of the world forget this ever happened and everything is back to normal.”

“You sound very sure of all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I like my schedules and I happen to like [y/n] so I better be sure. Come on, our ride’s further down the driveway,” Everest continues walking. While Ramona is stuck in place.

“Hey! Uh,” Ramona stutters, suddenly, loudly, causing Everest to turn around once again. “I think I left my water bottle in the house. I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Okay,” Everest eyes her. “It’s just around the corner. And tell [y/n] to hurry up.”

“I will!”

Ramona waits for Everest to continue down the driveway, and when she’s just far enough, Ramona turns around and acts as if she’s walking back up to your front door. When she’s positive Everest has made it to the car, she runs over to your mailbox. She opens it slowly, so it doesn’t creak as loud. The bright red envelope is the only thing in there, and she takes it out quickly. She looks at it for a moment, asks herself what the hell she’s doing. But she doesn’t have time to think right now, you could walk out at any moment. She closes your mailbox, shoves the envelope in her bag, and walks down the driveway.

Matthew Gubler, himself, is a disruption in the space-time continuum.

When you start tallying up the days, it just doesn’t make sense. Some days, every second feels like it’s crawling by. You’ll be in class, at the head of the class, and you’re surprised when your lesson plan ends atleast ten minutes early. And some days, time moves too fast. You find yourself running late for things, events, important people or things, which isn’t like you.

You call it Matthew Brain, and you keep that term to yourself. It happened fifteen years ago. And it’s happening now. It’s a slow, steady descent back to earth, back to reality. Time isn’t real with him, and you think that’s the reason you can’t remember much of your senior year. It’s a rush, a high to even be near him, and it’s the ultimate collapse when he’s gone. Really gone. Out of the life, for the second time.

Time has reset.

And what feels like one month with Matthew Gubler, only turns out to be four days.

You’re on a journey back to earth, and you haven’t even reached the bottom yet. It’s coming, but not now, you thought. You have time to prepare. And this time you’ll be ready. Ready to hit rock bottom, and spend another fifteen years digging yourself out. You have time, you’re sure of it.

Then Ramona comes into your office. She notices you crying, and you have to twirl around in your chair while you wipe the tears away. “Shit, Ro,” you try to laugh. “What’s up?”

“Uh, your afternoon class?” she reminds you. “With the girls at the community center? . . . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

A lot. Not anything that you can really talk to Ramona about. And each day is something different. Like today, you’re feeling like a fucking idiot. You feel unbelievably stupid and lost and question why anyone in their right mind would choose to learn anything from you. You feel defeated, and you can’t get the look on that girl’s face out of your head.

You turn to Ramona with a soft smile, “I’m fine. I forgot about the class, thank you for reminding me. I just have to grab a few things before I go.”

“Well,” she sets her bag down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She takes a seat in the other, “You’ve got some time, I haven’t even called the ride yet.”

You eye her, suspicious furrowing your eyebrows, “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she seems genuinely confused.

“Sit there and feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity. I’m alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry before . . . I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate that, kid, I really do. But you don’t have to be, alright?”

“. . . okay.” she shrugs.

“Anyways,” you change the subject. “How much time do I have until I’ve gotta be out of here?”

“Um, I can call you a ride now, it should be here in about, ten minutes?” Ramona pulls her phone from her pocket, and holds it up as she dials the number.

“Sounds good,” you nod.

She leaves the room to make the call, and when she closes the door, you release a big sigh. As if you’d been holding it in the whole time she was here. You get up from your chair, and walk around the desk. Not paying attention, you stub your toe into the adjacent chair, so hard that the chair falls to the ground.

“Ow! Son of a b—“ your yelp is cut off by a painful groan, and your reach down to hold your foot. You look out in front of you, and Ramona’s entire bag has spilled out across the floor. “Fuck,” you mumble and instantly begin to clean it up.

It’s bright red. And it sticks out like a sore thumb. You reach over to grab it, but only because you recognized his hand writing. You run your fingers over your name, and your head is starting to hurt from the amount of pure confusion.

The door swings open, “Okay, they’ll be here in fifteen, but you have some wiggle room —“ Ramona stops when she sees the item in your hand.

You stand up straight, look her in the eye. She’s shaking. She’s trembling, and there are already tears in her eyes.

“I . . . can explain,” she says.

“Then explain.”

“Matthew . . . wanted me to — to give that to you.”

“When?”

“When, um, when he was at your house on Saturday.”

“You said you didn’t see him. You acted like you didn’t even know he had been there. You took this from him?” your voice goes up at slight octave. Not by much, but it stills cuts Ramona like a knife.

“No! No, I didn’t take it from him. I told him to put it in the mailbox. Which he did, but then I . . .”

“You? You what? Went into my mailbox and took it? Are you kidding?”

“It was crazy! I know! It was absolutely insane of me! But—But Everest was saying all these things about protecting your image, and being proactive, I just wanted to help. I thought —“

“Everest? Everest knew about this?”

“No. No. I took it when she wasn’t looking, and I just, I thought maybe if you didn’t know about the letter, you would be able to move on, y’know? Heal.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

“I know. [y/n], I’m so sorry. I can’t — I can’t even begin —“

“You’re right,” you interrupt her. “You can’t.”

You look down at the envelope in your hands, and shake your head. “God, Ro, I can barely look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

You nod.

“I’ll . . . go wait for the car,” she nods, sadly and apologetically exiting the room.

You close the door behind her, and press your back against it. You slide to the floor, and bring the evelope close to your face. The day is not over, and you may need all night to take this in. You are not mentally prepared for whatever is in your hands, but, you rip it open anyway.

There’s a thin piece of paper inside. You pick it up, and it feels so frail that you worry it might rip. You set it on top of the envelope, and examine it. Your eyes dot over the page, until you realize, it’s not a letter at all.

American Airlines

[y/n] [y/l/n]

Seat: 14A

May Sixteenth, 2002

It’s a plane ticket. From fifteen years ago.

One you’ve never seen.

One you’ve never touched.

And now that it’s in your hands, you wish you never knew it existed.

[raphaelsrightarm]

Love is Cruel

Words: 828

Warnings: mentions of Smut, but it’s mostly just some angst

Love is cruel. 

It takes time, mutual dedication, and communication. Some want ‘love at first sight’. Not the two of you. Easy come easy go, right? But this love you created with Leo did not come at first sight. It came from knowing him. Inside and out. Loving him for all that he is and all that he isn’t.

You had known each other for months before he even expressed interest in any way other than platonic. Never wanting to make you feel uncomfortable.

Always a fucking gentleman. 

It may have led to him avoiding you on some occasions. Not sure he would be able to handle being around you so much while hiding all of this away.

It was cute at first. A lot of his quirks were. He was strong-willed, protective, at times even a bit reserved, only being able to comfortably open up to certain people.

But then the very traits that you adored at first turned into ones that drove you fucking insane. 

His protectiveness turned into him needing to know what was happening in your life at all times. Some of your biggest fights stemming from the brief moments when he didn’t know where you were. His reservedness turns into him closing his emotions off completely. Always leaving you guessing as to what is going on in his head. That stubbornness turned into him never listening to a fucking word you said. Shutting you out completely whenever your opinion differed from his. All the two of you did was argue anymore. You were either silent or you argued. There was no longer a middle ground. 

You wondered why he was staying, if your presence put him on edge yet made him bored at the same time. Maybe he stayed because he knew how co-dependent the two of you once were. Not being able to make it long without talking. Whether over the phone or in person. What if the second you were to leave his life, those feelings had sparked up all over again? And he realized it all just when you were leaving. 

Is it because he feared he wouldn’t find anyone else? He hasn’t met many women in his life, so maybe he was settling with what he had. But wouldn’t it be better to just be alone than to have to force yourself to stomach someone you’ve grown to not be able to stand? 

You thought so. Maybe it was time to put an end to your suffering. Put the both of you out of your misery.

Leo’s begun closing his eyes during sex. Hiding those blue eyes away from yours, worried if he saw you that he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to fuck you. 

Sex was something he saw to be so intimate. But lately intimacy has been drained from the relationship. It was all just physical at this point. No deeper meaning, no connection. Just two people who couldn’t even carry a conversation anymore making each other cum. 

He still chose missionary though. Maybe he was hoping that it would bring back those feelings of intimacy that sex once brought the two of you. But in the end, his eyes were always clenched shut.

It made it hard to focus on the feeling itself. Instead you wondered what he was imagining behind those eyes in order for him to get off. Or who. 

He buried his face in your neck as he came shortly after you did. He pulled out of you slowly, rolling over to lay beside you. He lifted his arm robotically, inviting you to lay on his chest. You slid over to him, his arm softly placed on top of you.

He held you. Tentatively. Not sure if he should even be allowed to do this anymore. You shut your eyes. Enjoying the feeling of having those arms wrapped around you while you still could. You spent the next few minutes thinking of what to say. Deciding that the conversation had to start somehow.

“Leo, should we-” You started, only to be cut up by a desperate plea.

“Don’t. Please. Just don’t.”  His voice wavered on his last two words. Your heart dropped as his reaction. He knew just as well as you did that the second the two of you began to think too much about the situation that the whole thing would unravel. And he wasn’t ready for that yet.

Of course you weren’t either. So what else could you do other than just roll over, unraveling his arm from around your waist. You stared at the wall as he stared at the ceiling; every so often he would glance over at you, worried his response was too harsh. 

You were drained. Physically, mentally. It was all just gone. 

You didn’t sleep that night. Too many uncertainties keep your mind a cluttered mess. 

Though it didn’t bring much comfort, there was one thing you knew for sure.

Love is fucking cruel.

[rocorambles]

Let's Give It A Try

Pairing: Bokuto x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Mafia AU, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Use of Sir, Dirty Talk, Degradation

Summary: Dating a man like Bokuto Koutarou goes against every moral code you’ve learned growing up, but love has a funny way of going against the grain.

Bokuto exhales, sighing as he leans broad shoulders against the rough exterior of the building behind him, cigarette smoke floating in tendrils in front of him. He prides himself on the strength and health of his body, but when he gets in one of his moods after a particularly strenuous week, he can’t help but rely on the way the nicotine mellows out the stress of his job. Closing his eyes, he lets the muffled beat of the music inside the club reverberate through his chest, letting himself let go just a tiny bit. Foolish maybe, considering just how many people want him dead, but he allows himself a moment of lax judgement while on his turf, literally on the ground he owns, surrounded by his men both in and out of the club, under the watchful blue eyes of his right hand man.

Everything will be just fine.

And suddenly everything’s a little bit more than just fine as his curiosity peeks, sharp owl-like eyes scanning you as you come stumbling out of the club, taking deep ragged breaths, completely unaware of your surroundings as you greedily inhale the fresh night air.

He has to bite back the sharp grin that threatens to stretch across his face at your adorable jump and squeak when you finally straighten up and take inventory of who’s around you, quivering like a little mouse when you meet his intense golden gaze. There’s something different about you and he can tell with just a quick glance at you that this isn’t your usual joint, taking in your considerably conservative and casual outfit for the area’s most popular nightclub, the nervous ticks and almost bashful way you curl in on yourself, unused to the hungry look he continues to direct at you.

It takes some coaxing and he almost feels bad at how he swears he can hear your frightened and unsure heartbeat pounding your chest as he approaches you. But his talons are out, wide eyes too curious and intrigued by the prey that’s caught his attention to just let you go off on your merry way. He croons at how you stutter, tripping over your words in your nervousness, licking his own lips for a different reason when he sees your pink muscle dart out to wet your dry ones.

But he can feel his wings furl out to their full span, can feel himself prepare to lunge at you when he finds out that his sweet little mouse came all by herself, trying to get over your recent breakup by having some fun, maybe even finding someone to…

This time he does laugh when you embarrassedly trail off, ending your anxious ramblings, before pinning you down with a wild grin that makes your chest tighten.

“I can be that someone.”

There’s something about the man that leaves you on edge. You can’t deny the fact that he’s handsome, in a wild rugged way that reminds you of a predator. But there’s something...intense about him, something in his eyes, something in his presence, something in his aura that makes you shiver, keeping your suddenly heavy feet rooted to their spot. Not that you’d get very far if he was intent on doing you harm you ascertain as you stare at the muscular and toned figure in front of you.

Yet despite all that, you can’t help but believe that he really does mean you no harm. Maybe it’s what you want to believe. A last hope and faith that not all men are scum like your ex is. Desperate to believe that there are decent men out there, that you can find happiness and maybe even love one day. So going against every ounce of self-defense and common sense that’s been instilled in you all your life, you take this stranger’s hand and let him guide you away, finding comfort in his warm, calloused grip.

Even if you do end up dead after all this, you can’t help but think you’ve made the right decision, your problem more than solved as any thoughts of your ex (and anything else really) fly out your head as soon as you’re dragged into an alarmingly luxurious apartment. He really is more animal than man and you cry out as teeth harshly dig into your neck, possessively and hungrily marking every inch of you, lips greedily wrapping around perky nipples and sucking with a force that makes your eyes roll and your nails dig into his thick biceps. But that only seems to egg him on more and you vaguely wonder if you’re going to cum before he can even get to the main course, body already overwhelmed with arousal and desire as he touches you everywhere except where you need him most.

You’re positively dripping by the time he does make it between your legs, too high strung to even be embarrassed, letting out a high pitched whine instead when he teasingly blows on your sopping wet entrance, pressing your thighs apart, leaving you on full display. And you swear you black out purely from relief when a hot wet tongue finally licks a long line up your slit. So on edge already, it only takes a few flicks and lapping of your aroused clit to have you careening off that pleasurable cliff and you sob, body thrashing and convulsing as you ride out your orgasm while lips and tongue continue to work you over.

You blearily blink as you finally regain control of your body, expecting the man between your legs to take the hint as you try to sit up on your elbows. But you scream, instantly collapsing on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets besides you as two thick fingers suddenly slip inside of you, beginning a relentless pace right from the start, hot tongue still lapping and licking at your sensitive clit. It’s too much, too soon and you writhe, body trying to pry yourself away from the torturous pleasure, but also aching for another release as the coil in you is wound tight. Not that Bokuto leaves you much choice as he easily keeps you pinned down, your legs no match for the strength of his arms and upper body as he continues to feast on you, your pretty cries and screams music to his ears, your delicious juices intoxicating. And before you even realize it, you’re forced to your second peak, creaming and clamping down on the digits still stuffed inside of you, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream.

Surely it’s over and you tell yourself that you’ll just close your eyes for a brief moment, a few seconds at most before paying him back with a blowjob, handjob, whatever he wants in return. Except your companion has very different plans on exactly how you’ll return the favor and your eyes shoot open, pathetic pleading noises spilling past your lips as you feel something hard and thick press against your entrance. But then he’s shoving inside of you, cock splitting your spent hole in two, and your mind blanks, unable to resist, unable to enjoy, only able to take and feel as it drags against your walls, going deeper and deeper.

And that’s how you pass out, one of the last clear memories you have before your mind fades to darkness, exhaustion and bliss rendering you useless as you’re ruthlessly fucked into and used by the man above you as he chases his own end, head empty except for mindless thoughts of cock, cock, cock.

There’s a few more one night flings after that and you try and convince yourself that it’s just that, nothing more, ignoring the pang in your heart when Bokuto sends you a sad face via text when he wakes up to an empty bed, ignoring the guilt resting heavy on your shoulders when you accidentally sleep in longer than you meant to and have to pry yourself from a pouting face and gentle grip on your wrist as gold eyes plead for you to stay.

But Bokuto Koutarou always gets what he wants and you find it harder to wriggle out from his strong arms as the sun’s rays filter through the windows, you find it harder to not sit down at his dining table and stay for a piping hot cup of coffee, you find it harder not to wake up and nuzzle closer to his body, cuddling and sweetly talking with him more than a casual relationship warrants.

And you find it impossible to not say yes when he asks you to officially go out with him one lazy morning as he cradles you in his arms.

Dating Bokuto is an adventure unlike any you’ve been on before and it’s so easy to be swept along in his enthusiasm and energy, giggling like children in one moment before you’re being pounced on in the next, gold eyes darkening in raw hunger and lust. Bokuto is an enigma that you wonder if you’ll ever truly understand, so easily shifting from a cheerful goofball to a dangerous predator and back again. But you don’t mind, finding the multi-faceted personality one of his strong suits...until it isn’t anymore.

You’d always had a feeling that Bokuto was hiding something from you, some things not quite adding up, the outgoing man strangely reticent about certain topics, especially regarding his work life and where his money comes from. But you had chalked it up to your sweet boyfriend being humble, not wanting to delve too much into his enormous wealth, because he must have enormous wealth from the penthouse apartment he lives in, the extravagant vacations he whisks you away on, the luxury gifts he bestows upon you without blinking an eye. And you’re correct, just not in the way you had imagined and you tearily and accusationally glare at him when you accidentally come across the hidden switch in the back of his closet, door opening and revealing crates and crates of a white powdery substance.

You want him to laugh it off like he always does, tell you some bullshit about it being for some prank he’s going to pull on Akaashi or Konoha, that it’s not what you think it is. But he doesn’t and the two of you just silently stare at each other, the pieces connecting all too clearly even without a word being said. And you leave, betrayal and hurt digging their claws into you as you leave behind a man who you thought you had known, who you had loved, but who you realize maybe you don’t really know at all.

It feels eerily familiar, a sense of deja vu flooding you when you take hesitant steps into another nightclub in the area, desperate for another distraction, another fling to fuck you free from thoughts of gold eyes and a muscular body. You tell yourself that there’s nothing similar about the solid build of the stranger you’re grinding up against, that the similarity in appearance is just coincidence as the two of you stumble to his apartment. But then lips and hands are all over you, too gentle, too soft, treating you like glass, words too cautious. Everything’s wrong, wrong, wrong and when he begins a slow careful pace, fucking you like he’s making love, so different from the way a certain man would have broken you down to pieces only to build you back up, you shove him off, uncaring of how rude you’re being.

That night when you return to your own bed, you sob in frustration, toys, dildos, vibrators scattered around you as you seek any relief you can get, looking for even the slightest mimicry of Bokuto’s touch, trying to remember what he sounds like, what he feels like. But memory and imagination can only get you so far, can never live up to the real thing, and you scream into your pillow as an unsatisfying orgasm ripples through you, the realization that Bokuto has ruined your body for anyone else, even yourself, sinking into you.

It’s absolute stupidity to be with someone just for great sex. Absolutely ridiculous. What decent human would go crawling back to their drug-dealing ex just for his good dick game? God knows what other shady underground shit Bokuto’s up to and you know it runs much deeper than a single room full of cocaine.

But maybe you’re not a decent human. Maybe that’s why you still can’t stop thinking of him despite how you try and hold out, despite the multiple flings, nights, and even entire weekends you spend with yourself in bed, spending far too much on sex toys, pussy and clit throbbing, fingers and hands aching from constantly bending to be inside yourself. Yet for all that, you’re never satisfied, every weak orgasm, every disappointing touch from another man only making your need for Bokuto even more pronounced, until you finally break. And a month later you call Bokuto, a scrambled frantic call over the phone with a dildo shoved deep inside you, a vibrator buzzing on your clit, tears streaming down your face when they do nothing to take away the yearning inside of you, begging and pleading for him to come and help you.

It’s humiliating how even just the sight of him skyrockets your arousal to levels you haven’t felt since the two of you dated and you whimper as he casually leans in your doorway, thick arms crossed across his chest, gold eyes raking over your sweating nude figure that’s writhing on top of rumpled bed sheets.

“This is a good look for a desperate slut like you. Couldn’t cum without me? No one, not even your little toys could make you feel good? Maybe I should just leave, just like how you left me. Leave you high and dry. Well I guess maybe not that dry.”

You pant, wide blown out eyes watching as he slowly approaches you, face heating when he bends down to peer at your dripping cunt, mockingly whistling at how you pretty hole is no different than a leaking faucet, inner thighs drenched in your arousal.

“Koutarou, please-”

You scream as fingers harshly twist at your nipples, eyes rolling to the back of your head as just that brutal touch is enough to bring you over the edge you had been hovering around for so long, body convulsing, a dopey grin making its way onto your lips when you finally feel the pleasure you’d been craving for so long.

“Fuck, you came from just that? Who the fuck said you could cum? Who the fuck said you could use my name? Sluts like you don’t deserve to say my name. You know what to address me as.”

You wail, pain melding with the pleasure as he shoves your vibrator away, alternating between pinching and slapping your already overstimulated clit as he enunciates every word he snarls at you, a feral grin stretching across his face at your barely coherent babbles of “sir” and “sorry”.

The constriction in his own pants is painful and he’s quick to strip waist down, slowly palming his aching erection. It takes everything in him to hold back, to not just shove balls deep inside of you in one strong thrust, your absence affecting him just as badly. But that’s not what this is about. This is about making a point, reminding you just how wrong you were for leaving him without a single word, rebuilding what the two of you once had. And as ravenous as he is, he takes his time, willing himself to slow down and rediscover every inch of you, painstakingly exploring your body once again, re-memorizing every sensitive part of you that elicits a little gasp, a tiny mewl.

And he doesn’t stop, pulling the dildo inside of you completely out, using his teeth, tongue, and finger to bring you to the edge over and over again, always backing away just when you’re about to fall off that pleasurable cliff once more, diving back in like a man starved just when you think you have a shaky grasp on your senses. Only when you’re full out sobbing broken cries of his title, a litany of “please, please, please” escaping you does he move on and he groans at how perfectly your legs wrap around his back, urging him inside you as his cock finally makes contact with your gushing cunt, your hands weakly pawing at him in a silent plea for more.

But again he stops, bringing a thumb to wipe away your tears as you begin to wail anew, frustration and denial tearing you to shreds, instinctively leaning into his touch as he gently strokes your cheekbone.

“Tell me who’s the only one who can make you feel good. Who’s the only one who can pleasure you?”

And as you scream his name, he finally slams inside of you, relentlessly pounding in and out of you, gold eyes hungrily taking in how wrecked you look, how broken you look, all because of him, only for him.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to tumble together over that edge, not when both of you are beyond pent up, absence making your hearts grow fonder and your bodies desperate for each other. And you can’t help the content warm surge inside of you when you feel hot thick liquid fill your insides, your body lax and useless in post-coital bliss, heart and mind eager for Bokuto to collapse beside you and pull you into his toned chest like he always does.

Except there is no familiar weight beside you and your head shakes side to side, drool trickling down your face when Bokuto’s softening cock is suddenly replaced by four fingers brutally thrusting in and out of you, curling just right along your still quivering walls.

“We still have a long way to go, little mouse. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t know how many times you’re forced over the edge after that, consciousness fading in and out as he assaults your cunt with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. You even vaguely remember waking up once to a dildo in your ass, Bokuto pounding into your cum-filled pussy, your body more stretched than it’s been in a long time. They all blur together, only tied together by the delirious pleasure that numbs everything else until you’re succumbing to darkness one last time as yet another body shaking orgasm rips through you.

It’s the scent of fresh coffee and bacon that awakens you and you blearily open your eyes, only to immediately wince as soon as you try to move, your body feeling like it had been rammed into by a truck (although you suppose that imagery isn’t too far off from what actually transpired). Sinking back into the plush pillow and mattress, you close your eyes, wondering what’s your next move. Force your aching body out of bed and confront the inevitable, already somewhat dreading having to face Bokuto now that your mind isn’t clouded with lust? Go back to sleep and pray that he’s gone when you wake up again, like a coward?

But Bokuto doesn’t leave you a choice and you shyly cover yourself with the blanket when he comes bounding into the room, a heaping plate of food and a cup of the delicious caffeinated beverage in his hands, heart fluttering when you see the warm and affectionate grin on his face as he approaches you, carefully placing everything on the nightstand before tenderly pecking your forehead and murmuring good morning.

You try to say something, anything, words getting stuck in your throat, but you’re shushed as the coffee mug is carefully placed in your hands, Bokuto’s soothing voice urging you to eat and recover first. And you gladly take the excuse, hunger and thirst from last night’s endurance marathon finally making itself known as you devour everything. But there’s only so long you can avoid the inevitable and with belly full and feeling more yourself, you listen as he gently grabs your hand, letting him entwine his fingers with yours as he tells you everything.

Who he is. What he does. Exactly how he’s affiliated with the Fukurodani Syndicate.

None of it is surprising, a lot of it what you had surmised and guessed yourself. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow knowing just how much he had kept from you, how much he had been planning on keeping from you for who knows how long. At least it’s all out in the open now though, no secrets left between the two of you, and there’s a pause as he continues to rub his thumb on the back of your hand.

“I won’t sugar coat who I am and what my life is. I don’t expect you to come running back with open arms. But if you’re willing to give it a try, I swear that there’ll never be any more secrets, that I’ll protect you, that I’ll love you. I’ll be the damn best boyfriend there ever is.”

You almost giggle at how childish the last sentence is, hope churning in your stomach when you see how genuine and passionate he is, fondness flowing through you when you recognize the man you had fallen in love with beyond the dirt on his hands. And you know it’s arguably foolish, goes against every moral code you’ve grown up with, but love never does seem to follow set equations and rules and you bring that hand to your lips, affectionately kissing your clasped fingers as you meet gold eyes.

“Let’s give it a try.”