#and since it’s been so warm the trees think it’s fucking SPRING…not likely gonna get The Mirror Effect + Seasonal Coziness any time soon

[void-tiger]

Oxytocin low. Send hugs.

[esilher]

Collaborative December klaine challenge 2023 between @esilher and @mynonah

Tiny Friends in the Neighborhood by @mynonah

"Blaine? What are you doing?"

"Feeding Theodore."

"Excuse me?"

"Theodore, this is my fiancé, Kurt." Blaine says, gesturing theatrically between the window and Kurt, "Kurt, this is—"

"It's a squirrel." Kurt interrupts.

"That was rude. Yes, it's a squirrel. Well, there are two of them, but it's early, I think Francesca's still asleep."

Kurt looks at Blaine as if he's suddenly grown a second head. "Okay, while I try to process this... may I ask what he is doing on our ledge? This is how you teach them to keep coming back, Blaine. And one day, they’ll come into the apartment. What are squirrels doing in this tree anyway?"

"The same thing you do inside the building. They live there."

"No." Kurt shakes his head wildly. "They don't belong here. Squirrels inhabit forests. Or at least... wooded areas. Here it's all concrete and people and bustle."

"They probably moved here from Central Park. But they build their nests in trees and that, in front of our window, is a tree. So it seems to me that they are at home, just like us."

"How do they get food here?"

"They are wild animals, they know how to get food. Besides... we are here for them," Blaine adds with a grin. "I looked up what they eat. Would you like to try?"

"Feeding him? No way! What if he bites?"

"Give him food, not your finger. With your palm open. Come on, Kurt, I'm right behind you. You'll love it and Theodore is hungry!"

Kurt rolls his eyes, but steps closer to the window and carefully holds out his hand to the squirrel.

"Oh," he giggles. "He's cute."

"I know, right? Look, there's a little hole. That's where they nest."

"Uh. That can't be too warm..."

"They live in the wild, Kurt. Don't worry about them."

"But winter is coming, Blaine. Theo and Fran need a more secure home than this. Wait, you were gonna make a bird feeder in the spring, remember? Let's do it now," Kurt says excitedly. "Well, mostly you, but I’ll decorate it. Just make it a little bigger. I'll go see what we need to buy and we can go in 20 minutes." Kurt announces with the same enthusiasm, then turns on his heel and hurries back to the living room.

"Wait… Are you serious now?"

"Mhm."

"Five minutes ago you didn't care about them at all and now you want to build them a house."

"It's your fault. You named them, Blaine!"

"Whoa... Okay. Understandable. Maybe I should have named the spiders you found in the bathroom yesterday."

"Ugh... have you killed them yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Then do it. Please."

"I don't know... It's a moral issue, Kurt. A whole family!"

"What? You're such a dork."

"And they're high up..."

"That's not a family."

"Okay. Not a family. Just two random spiders and two random half-sized spiders who happened to meet in the corner of the bathroom and have been hanging out together ever since."

Kurt narrows his eyes at Blaine. "Something like that."

"Hm. I still think they’re a family, though. I'll give them names."

"Don't you dare!"

"Everyone deserves a name, Kurt. Don't be cruel."

"Stop it!"

"Hmm... How about Lucas and... Frederick..."

"Blaine, stop it!"

"...and the kids are Charlotte and... ah, Samuel!"

"Shit! I hate you."

"You love me. Very much. So, are you starting to think they're cute?"

"No! They're spiders, for God’s sake. ...Lucas and Frederick?"

"Yep," Blaine says proudly, grinning from ear to ear. "They're gay. Spider family, Kurt. With two dads. And even if the kids manage to escape in time... A lot of little feet need a lot of little shoes, and you want to murder their parents. But of course, as you wish... I just..."

"Fuck!" Kurt exclaims, throwing his phone on the other side of the couch so suddenly, that he almost falls over.

"What’s wrong? Are you okay? Why did you... Whoa! Oh, my God. You actually googled ‘spiders + pets + feeding’?!"

Kurt holds both hands over his eyes frantically, and Blaine can't help but laugh. "You're cute."

"Could you just... Could you just... Just do something!"

"Should I close this and clear the search history?"

"No! Just... just type ‘TINY’... at the beginning of the text. Please. Tiny spiders. Like Charlotte. Thank you."

"I love you so much."

[jonkentt]

a little Sambucky~

Sam found Bucky in the middle of the backyard. Could have been the open expanse of grass and tall surrounding trees, or the way Bucky was curled in on himself, hugging his knees, but he looked small out there. As if his childhood wasn’t a century behind him. Sam could imagine Bucky like this as a kid on the roof of his building in Brooklyn or on the pier, watching cargo ships float by instead of fireflies. There were a lot of them tonight. Bucky followed their lazy loops through the air in blips of yellow and green.

Bucky turned when he heard Sam cross the lawn. Smiled when Sam sat beside him. Murmured “hey, Sam” in that way he did now, soft and warm like he was happy to say Sam’s name. That look in his eye that hadn’t gone away since the afternoon Bucky’d called them partners. That easy grin and casual way he leant into Sam’s space, all loose and content. So different from how he’d been.

When Bucky decided to turn up in Sam’s life again, he was a spring coiled too tight. Every nerve in his body tense and focused on finding somewhere to put his hurt. Putting most of it on Sam. Putting so much effort into keeping the distance between them. Closer had always been easier for them. It was easy now.

Sam shifted to press their backs together, tilted his head back. With Bucky’s shoulder as a pillow, Sam gazed at the stars starting to appear. They sat like that for a long time, mostly in comfortable silence. Bucky talked a little and his voice was soft at the edges, wrapping Sam in a blanket of words.

Bucky was no good at hiding, really. Didn’t hide his remorse in his long overdue apology. Didn’t hide his nightmares when Sam asked for his vulnerability. They deserved that, after all this time, to not hide from each other. To not hurt.

Sam breathed in the night air that smelled like home. He felt the heat of Bucky’s back leeching through their clothes. He felt a pang in his heart for wanting to hold onto this and never let it go.

“You’re not gonna have a nightmare tonight.”

Bucky huffed. “Gee, thanks, Sam. It just works that way? You can just wish me a full night’s sleep?”

“Mmhm.”

“S’nice. Wish I could do that. I’d wish you one too.”

They lapsed back into silence. The sky darkened, the stars shone, and the fireflies slowly disappeared into trees and bushes to sleep. Sam had slumped on Bucky’s shoulder some time ago, trading his view of the stars to listen to Bucky’s heartbeat.

“Sam? You awake?”

Sam yawned and stretched. “Not much longer.”

“C’mon.” Bucky grinned and pulled Sam to his feet. “Cap’s bedtime.”

Sam wrinkled his nose in his ‘what the fuck’ face and Bucky laughed, leading them into Sarah’s house with a warm hand on Sam’s back. Inside, Bucky started for the couch but Sam caught his hand and laced their fingers together.

“Share my bed?”

Sam led Bucky upstairs, they got ready for bed, undressed, and curled into each other on top of the sheets. Bucky’s eyes were wide with something, hope or disbelief. They moved closer, Sam slotted their thighs together, Bucky’s breath tickled his nose. Bucky kept staring. Sam’s eyelids grew heavy, and as they slipped closed he remembered something he’d said, you get used to it. That made him snicker. Because Sam had gotten used to it, liked it even, hoped Bucky would keep looking for the secrets of the universe in Sam’s eyes.

“…Sam?”

“Mm.”

“This isn’t… we’re not… just a couple of guys?”

Sam snorted, and if he weren’t so tired he’d love to see the baffled expression on Bucky’s face.

“No, Buck,” he mumbled sleepily. “Think we’re past couple’a guys.”

“Oh, thank god.”

Sam almost burst out laughing at the immense relief in Bucky’s voice. But then Bucky’s hand was cupping Sam’s cheek, and Bucky’s kiss was on Sam’s lips so so tenderly. Again. And again. Sam pulled himself together enough to stop grinning and kiss Bucky back.

for @thatmexisaurusrex <3

[marcos-scorpion]

Forever Yours - Eddie Munson x Reader

hello my lovelies! this is vaguely self indulgent- aka reader is alternative (no descriptions of body type/skin colour etc just style) because ive read loads of eddie x cheerleader reader stuff and its mega cute, but my little rockstar gf aesthetic heart needed this. i’m saying this now, as a warning. there will be no happy ending here for eddie and our dear reader. this is just sad. more stuff based from my best (and worst) relationship, like my Adrian Chase x reader from a few months ago. i have a few ideas for part two, but as i said, it wont be a happy ending. i’m at a place in my life where fluff is all i read but I cannot write it. lemme know what you think, and send me any requests ! Xoxo, moth

word count- 2880

warnings- angst !!! (!!!!!), smoking (weed and cigarettes), blood (mega brief), very light sexual hints (like one line lmao), reader is sad, eddie is sad, everyone is sad (if you guys spot more warning lemme know)

~~~

My boots crunched heavily against the foliage as I walked through the woods towards my favourite smoke spot, partially hoping my boyfriend would already be there. Well, he won’t be my boyfriend for much longer. I stomped harder at the thought, scowl deepening. This was the fourth time this week alone that Eddie fucking Munson had left me waiting for a date or planned meet-up. You’d think after almost three years together, he’d know how angry this would make me. Apparently fucking not, as he once again disappeared before our plans to skip the rest of the day and go smoke by Lover’s lake. Our standard Friday, as always. I waited by his van for twenty goddamn minutes until I couldn’t take it anymore, if he wasn’t gonna show, I was gonna go smoke on my own instead. 

I was almost at the bench when I heard his voice. What the fuck? Oh I was going to kill him. I get a little closer, peering through the trees. 

“…the queen of Hawkins High.” I freeze. He can’t be with her. He is not hanging out with Chrissy fucking Cunningham. I stand, motionless behind a tree, watching him pull out all his cute, flirty theatrics, in the same place he’d used them on me all those years ago. Watched him stumble back from the bench, watched him smile and jump around, pull the collar of his shirt down to show her a tattoo I HAD DESIGNED for him. Oh this man has a deathwish. When he invited her to see his band, I felt my heart drop to my stomach. The anger in my chest dissipated, and my breath caught in my throat as I listened to the rest of their conversation. For so long, I had been the only one going to support his shows, the only one cheering him on, driving him to band practice. I watched her smile and giggle, totally enthralled by my Eddie. He was like that, ever the charmer, always entertaining. I could see that in the way she was looking at him, but what hurt was the way he was looking at her. It had been weeks, months even, since he’d looked at me like that. 

I zoned out for the rest of their conversation, stepping back further into the foliage when I realised she was standing to leave. I watched the blush rise on his cheeks as she walked away. I knew I had been losing the love of my life for a few weeks now, but this cemented it. He wasn’t mine anymore. 

I had always thought that me and Eds were perfect for each other. We had the same taste in music, a similar style, and the same interests, as nerdy as they may be. The rockstar, and the rockstar’s girlfriend, in every way possible. 

I was freezing cold, despite the warm spring air, and my fishnets and little dress were doing nothing to cover the goosebumps rising on my skin. I watch Chrissy scamper down the little path that leads back to the football field, heart hammering in my chest as Eddie groans, standing as well. 

Once I was sure he was gone, I sat at the bench myself, starting to roll a joint before I even realised I was crying. Shit. I was not going to cry over anyone, let alone a man. Running my nails over the chains piled across my neck, I easily found the one with the big letter E. As I tightened my fingers around it, sharp edges drawing little lines of blood, I began to sob. 

I lit my joint with shaking hands, sobbing harder when I realised my nails were painted to match his oh so precious guitar. Letting the weed cloud my brain was easy, but losing the image of Chrissy and Eddie was proving more difficult. 

~~~

I’m not sure exactly how long I sat on that bench, long enough for the joint to turn to ash, along with most of my pack of cigarettes. The walk back to my house was long, having chosen to walk to school in the morning presuming I would be crashing at Eddie’s, another of our Friday traditions. No one was home when I got back, but they weren’t expecting me back either. My family had long since stopped trying to control my whereabouts, and they actually quite liked Eddie once they got to know him. 

Quickly changing into my pyjamas, I began taking off my painstakingly applied eyeliner. I’d been trying to look nice for Eddie, maybe catch his attention the way I used to. His eyes would light up from across the room at just a glimpse of me.  Not anymore. 

As I sat moping, Metallica playing softly from the beat up mixtape Eddie made me so long ago, I decided I couldn’t do this any longer. Leaving would hurt, but nothing hurt more than watching the way the love of my life was staring at Chrissy. 

I understood why he would look at her like that. Even if she had (accidentally or not) stolen my boyfriend, I couldn’t bring myself to hate her. I doubt anyone could hate her. Chrissy Cunningham. She was everything I wasn’t. Athletic, friendly, endlessly beautiful. The clean, preppy girl aesthetic was so cute, and she was too kind of a person to genuinely dislike. 

It was final nail in the coffin for me, watching the cutesy interaction in the woods. And, with a few more tears smudging the leftover eyeliner I could never quite fully remove, I began removing all traces of Eddie’s presence in my room. 

~~~

Driving to school in my own car felt weird on Monday, but after not speaking to Eddie all weekend, it was something I would have to become accustomed to, despite desperately hoping to open my front door to the site of Eddie’s van waiting for me. The Doc Martens shoe box in my passenger seat was glaringly obvious in the corner of my eye, filled with the memory, and remnants, of my loving relationship. Polaroids and notes were littered across a few neatly folded items of clothing, freshly washed and devoid of any of my perfume, including two Hellfire shirts, and a custom Corroded Coffin crop top I had made to surprise him on our two year anniversary. There was a guitar pick somewhere in the box, carved with my initials, thrown from the dingy stage to me, amongst the crowds of drunks. The worst was my favourite necklace. A gift from so long ago, the E pendant, having been switched from chain to chain as they broke from eager hands pulling me for a kiss, held painfully taut as he replaced it with his hand, deepening the kiss, had been a permanent and prominent part of the stack of jewellery I wore every day. A screaming reminder of love we held, of who I belonged to, whether in a dingy bar or the busy hallways of Hawkins High. 

There were other small, but painfully meaningful, items in the box. A ticket from the first gig we went to as a couple, the pressed corsage from the only dance I had managed to convince Eddie to go to, the beer bottle top from the night of our first kiss, high and hazy under the stars, and a mug that had been a gift from Wayne, the man taking a liking to me almost instantly. 

“You gotta marry this girl Eds, you ain’t gonna get better than this.” Had been his uncle’s words the night I first met him. I had shown up at the Munson trailer, dark painted lips pulled between my teeth as I presented Wayne with a tub of homemade chilli, a smaller tub of cookies balanced on top. I hadn’t wanted to go empty-handed, but I had doubted the older man would’ve been thankful for flowers the way my mother had been when meeting Eddie. I wasn’t a great cook, but as I was to spend the weekend at the trailer, I didn’t want to eat his food and live in Wayne’s space without at least something. I’d left after that weekend with one of the mugs from his prized collection, and a deal I would cook for him again. 

I had held so much anger for my lost love, it almost bubbling over at the sight of Eddie in the woods with another girl. But it faded when he invited her to see his band, and it had been completely replaced with a hollow empty sensation as I began removing any trace of Eddie Munson from my life. 

The likelihood of Eddie actually being at school on a Monday, either on time or at all, wasn’t high, but it honestly would be easier to leave the box in his locker than to actually face him. Luck, however, wasn’t on my side, as I approached where his locker was, if the small crowd of freshmen gathered was anything to go by. 

I knew these kids, had spent hours supervising D&D sessions, driving them home, making sure they were safe in the hellscape of high school. Max stood out in the group of boys, being the only one not in a Hellfire shirt. I had grown close to the girl, starting with just driving her places after the loss of her brother, but developing into teaching her how to do her eyeliner and gifting her old band shirts as she began to develop her own little ‘skater girl’ style. My breakup with Eddie was going to put a rift between me and the kids I’d grown to care about, the boys would inevitably choose their precious dungeon master, but I at least hoped Max would still speak to me. 

“Kiddos,” I began, startling the group with their backs to me, “Where’s your leader?” I was praying they would say he wasn’t here, that he hadn’t shown up but they were waiting for him just in case. I did not expect Dustin to look at me sadly before nodding over his shoulder. None of them spoke, but the way they were all staring at me settled dread deep in my heart. Peering past Mike and Lucas, there he was. 

Stood next to Chrissy at her locker. I was surprised that he hadn’t been jumped by the basketball team yet. 

At this point, I had nothing left in me but a sigh at the sight. I mustered up a sad grin for the kids still staring at me, before holding out the box towards them. 

“Will one of you give him this please, tell him to make sure he reads the letter first, but not till he’s home?” None of them moved, so I pushed the box lightly into Dustin’s chest. They’d been watching Eddie fall out of love with me the same way I was, but they were more prepared for the end than me. 

As Dustin took the box, he spoke. “I’m sorry Y/N, he must’ve lost his mind.” I offered them one more shaky smile before turning on my heel, walking away towards my first class. 

I didn’t see him for the first half of the day, being in the highest set for my classes, but I knew lunch would be difficult. I had too much pride to not sit at the same table I had for all those years, with our friends. 

He cornered me before I even made it into the lunch hall at my usual smoke spot just outside the edge of campus. He had the shoebox tucked under his arm, but I could see the tape holding it shut was still in place. He hadn’t opened it yet. He hadn’t read the letter yet. 

“Wanna explain what this is sweetheart?” The pet name held no love, the kindness from his voice completely missing. There was no anger there, but the lack of emotion burned worse. I shrugged, dropping the last of my cigarette before stomping it out a little too aggressively. 

“Some of your stuff back, thought you might miss it.” I had nothing to say, everything I wanted was written in that letter, the tear smudged ink spilled everything I had felt for these last months. I was taking the cowards way out, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to vocalise everything without breaking down. 

I turned to walk away, but he fell into step beside me as we walked to lunch together for the last time. 

~~~

I knew he was heading straight home after school, he always did on Mondays, as he reserved the evening to practising new songs on his guitar. I used to sit with him, gentle encouragement along with small acknowledgment every time there was a wrong chord or missed note. 

And when I returned home that afternoon, and sat on the edge of my bed, I realised how empty my room was without his presence, be it his belongings or his body stretched across my bed. I won’t say how much I cried that day, but my chest burned as I fell asleep, face still wet.

I would never have assumed, across town, Eddie would go to sleep in a similar way. 

~~~

He respected my wishes, confused as to why he couldn’t open the box sooner, and as to why I had apparently written him a letter. Somewhere in his brain, he knew something wasn’t right, but he pushed it aside. 

For the first time in memory, Eddie broke his Monday routine. He didn’t even greet his guitar as he walked into his room, the shoebox taking up all of his mind. He lifted the letter out first, not really paying attention to the contents. Unfolding the yellow paper, his hands shook as he began reading. 

Eddie my love, 

I truly never thought it would come to this. I never expected to have to write to you in this way. Oh Eds, I hate to say this, but I know. I know you don’t love me anymore. It’s ok, I understand. I’m not upset. Well, I am, but not because of that. I’m upset because I should have realised sooner, should have said something, fought harder for our love. But if its not me you want, I can’t argue that. I want the best for you, and if that’s not me, I can accept that. It burns, knowing I’m not enough, but I could never be upset at you for that. I don’t think I can ever be upset or angry at you for long, no matter how hard I try. You were, and still are, my everything, my rockstar, but I can’t sit alongside you in silence anymore. I don’t remember the last time you looked at me with any real emotion, the last time we spent time together, just us. I don’t remember the last time you told me you loved me, when you last kissed me. I was your favourite girl, but I know now that I’m not anymore. I’m gonna miss you Eds, but as much as it hurts to let go, I can’t stand by as your girlfriend as you fall in love with someone else. All I ask of you my love, is that you take care of yourself, that you’re happy, but that you take care of her too, don’t let this happen to her, because no one deserves to feel this pain. And please, don’t make this harder than it already is, don’t try and win me back, convince me of what I already know isn’t true. You will always have a piece of my heart Eddie, don’t destroy it by trying to come back. I hope you know you’ll always be my favourite boy. 

Forever yours, 

Y/N 

He could feel the tears at his lash line build as he read, his heart sinking with every syllable. Gently smoothing the paper, he ran his fingers over the black lipstick mark next to my name. He wouldn’t cry, he had caused this, and he had to live with it. 

His attempt not to cry was made more difficult as he removed each item from the box, thumb swiping over my face in every photo. He lifted each piece of clothing to his face, but the tears built more as he realised they smelled too clean. He frowned as he lifted Wayne’s mug. The man was going to be so disappointed, not only at the loss of a girl he genuinely liked, but at how his nephew had caused all of this. 

The dam finally burst as cool metal met his fingers. The last thing in the box. The necklace. His tears dripped onto the pile of papers and fabric on his lap, which he quickly moved, not wanting to risk ruining any of the last pieces of me he could hold on to. Gently wrapping the chain around his fingers, the true meaning of this loss hit him. 

I had let him go, like he was so sure he had wanted. I had given him permission to love Chrissy. But now, with the metal slowly warming in his palm, he realised the only thing he would ever want was me. 

And he realised he was too late. 

[thisultraviolet]

omg i love your reasons so much 🥹 they really capture the essence of each season!! for me it’s:

fall: the changing colors of the trees

winter: SNOW and just being warm and cozy and the holidays

spring: the flowers and those days where it’s really nice and you can have an iced coffee

summer: the good weather and sun and sense of adventure that comes with it

the last few years i haven’t done much for halloween but i always like the candy and using it as a treat to have some since i don’t eat it a lot during the year.

anyway how was your week? any fun plans for the weekend? what’re you studying in school? 👻👻

I love your reasons too omg. Sometimes I wish I lived somewhere it snowed but realistically I don't think I could handle the cold, or at least my dog would definitely hate it!

My week has been good! Working and at uni a lot but I got to see the Eras movie last night and it was incredible of course, plus I have the day off tomorrow to get caught up on everything. Also the latest OFMD episodes have completely taken over my brain I love those silly pirates so much. Tomorrow I'm gonna try and make time to watch the new StarKid musical Nerdy Prudes Must Die bc the pro-shot finally is on YouTube! I bought the digital ticket when it was running at the start of the year but I'm so excited to be able to watch it properly now! What has been your favourite thing you did recently or something you have coming up? Also your favourite part of the movie if you've been able to see it yet?

I'm studying screenwriting at uni! Only 1 week of actual classes left for the year but I still have a few assignments to finish up including a comedy script and an essay on basically whatever we wanted so I'm doing the history of queer rep in movie musicals! I literally get to write about Glee, I love my course so fucking much ugh.

Hope you're having a wonderful week!

[scawch]

I wake up at an untimely time that I really don’t wanna be awake at, because my brother is a fucking buffoon who can’t hear our dad knocking on the door so I’m just hear I’m so asleep it’s so nice and boom KNOCK a and I’m like WOW well there’s TWO other people in this house right now SURELY SOMEONE ELSE CAN GET THE DAMN DOOR. TWO KNOCK. and I’m more conscious now and thinking about what I heard last night, specifically that dad said he come by around 8 to pick my brother up and I’m thinking hee these knocks sure sound like my dad. SURELY MY BROTHER, WHO KNOWS DAD IS COMING TO PICK HIM UP, AND SLEEPS IN THE LIVING ROOM, WHERE THE FRONT DOOR THAT IS CURRENTLY BEING KNOCKED ON IS, CAN HEAR AND WILL ANSWER THE DOOR SHORTLY.

that however would be an incorrect assumption. it’s been less than a minute since the first knock, and I am waiting for the third. alas, no third knock, but general meddling can be heard instead because curse this godforsaken house and it’s thin walls because I can. hear. everything. so I, who went to bed at 5am, and has no obligations to do anything ever and therefore has absolutely no reason to be up at 8:30 in the goddamn mornin if I don’t wanna be, am getting up out of my warm comfy bed to let my fuckin dad in the house to wake my fuckin brother up to go to fuckin school despiTE THE FACT IT IS SPRING BREAK AND SURRREEEEELY HE DIDNT HAVE TO GO.

and then I return to my warm comfy bed to HOPEFULLY drift peacefully back to sleep, HOWEVER THAT WAS NOT TO HAPPEN…. because I can hear the waking up of my brother and the why aren’t you awake and then oh shit I know we were supposed to go like ten minutes ago but I’m gonna take a shower.

so now my dad is gonna be waiting around for like ten minutes for no damn reason and I can hear him fiddling with the ducking door again and at this point I know I ain’t goin back to bed so I get up again and I’m like what the heck are you doing idr what he said anymore but I’m just fuckin awake now so I go check on my sweet precious popsicles I bought like two weeks ago, lookin to store some away secretly SO NO ONE STEALS TYEM…. HOWEVER… when I check the fuckibg fridge. it’s broken. the light isn’t on and I’m like well that’s weird and I reach for the popsicles and they. are. melted.

and I’m furious because I’ve already been woken up at LEAST two hours earlier than I wanna be and now my sweet precious popsicles that I can only get at one fuckin dollar tree and are annoying to get are melted. auaughdhskojwkausoahskebwoajabkdsbkajwm

[rinhoes]

﹙⸻ leah’s 500 follower event ﹚WEEK THREE :: DAY ONE — UZUI TENGEN ⸻ "𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆"

IF YOU WERE TO ASK TENGEN what initially attracted him to Y/N, he’d probably get all flustered and start stumbling over his words, embarrassed by how unflashy it was of him. But when he managed to get the words out, he’d say something along the lines of, “she’s a very flamboyant woman with an amiable personality, beautiful dark skin—not to mention a pair of tits I find quite enjoyable.” For him, there were too many words to describe the woman he’d fallen for; he fell so quickly—he immediately told his wives about her, and of course, them being so supportive and loving they pushed him to pursue her.

For Y/N, the courting process was like no other. No matter the occasion, Tengen spared nothing; she experienced everything she wanted and ever desired. He was soft with her, treating her skin ever so delicately—but she knew he was holding back, maybe it’s because he wanted to be polite and impress her, but Y/N—such a clever one—she wanted to see if she could push him a little further. Tengen picked the perfect spot for them, in a secluded corner of his estate, shielded by tall cherry blossom trees and various plants. “You know Tengen—I was thinking—maybe we should take this a step further.” Since they’ve been together, the most Tengen has done was give gentle kisses on her cheek; but that wasn't enough. She heard things about him—about how strong and dominant he was. Y/N wanted to experience that, even if it was just a little taste before the ceremony.

However, she might have bitten off more than she could chew. It wasn't long until she found herself in such a lewd position; her face pressed onto the soft quilt with her plump ass in the air. The warm spring winds blew against her bare cunt. She was soaked, and he barely touched her. The way he slammed into her made her stomach turn in excitement. Y/N couldn't form a coherent sentence—not when Tengen’s fat cock was stretching her insides. The only thing she could muster up was the whiney mewls spilling from her lips. “Is this what you wanted, princess?” Tengen groaned over the sound of their constant skin slapping; it’s a good thing they were in this secluded part of the estate; imagine how embarrassed she'd be if she knew his other wives were gleefully watching in the bushes just a few feet away.

It was such an obscene sight; by now, she stopped counting the number of times she came, Tengen's heavy balls slapping her swollen clit while her juices dripped onto the blanket below. “I’m gonna pull out, princess. I won’t properly breed you until the ceremony is over.” Tengen knew it wasn’t proper to fuck her before the wedding ceremony, but he couldn’t fight it anyway longer. Deep grunts echoed through the spring air. He was close, and there was nothing more he wanted than to cum inside her. “Turn over love, I’m gonna come on those pretty tits of yours.” Pulling her kimono down, Tengen threw his head back in utter bliss as thick white ropes decorated her chest. Y/N let out a girlish giggle as Tengen smeared his cum across her brown nipples.

“Is it possible to move the ceremony closer to—this weekend?” Y/N asked as she caressed his broad back. Makio, Suna, and Hina remained in the bushes attempting to hold in their giggles, red faces still hot from what they witnessed.

leah’s taglist 💌 :: @misss-chrisss | @dejwrites | @gabzlovesu | @angwritez | @hotblkbimbo | @luffysthickwaifu | @iwascrybaby | @black-girl-anime-lover | @seyawrld | @thicksimpx | @pervysenpaix | @waytoohornez

welcome to week three, i hope y'all enjoyed

[todoscript]

you receive a love letter in your shoe locker from an anonymous admirer

characters: bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff. very slight angst.

word count: 3.2k+ total, 400-700 per character

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, feelings of doubt (mostly all fluff though)

author’s note: i’ve been on spring break so i found some time to write this! i absolutely love writing for these six (not like they’re my faves or anything pshhhhh—)

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

he’s already fuming the moment you open your locker and hold out the pastel pink card, sealed by a shiny heart sticker with your name written in smooth calligraphy.

it doesn’t take much for him to realize some other dunce head is trying to make moves on his girl.

and he absolutely won’t stand for it.

he stomps over to you and snatches the letter right out of your hands as you’re reading it.

your complaints go ignored behind him while he inspects the writing with the most livid expression.

you know that ugly face he makes when it comes to his over-exaggerated anger? the one with his eyes all squinted and the corners sharpened upward?

that’s his face as he continues reading, growing more twisted at every mushy sentence this anonymous admirer had the gall to say to you.

at one point, he can’t stand to read it anymore so he crumbles the letter in his fist before igniting it into crisps.

you scold him for causing such a scene and letting his anger get the best of him, but bakugou is still annoyed about it regardless.

“tch, who the hell does this shithead think they are, trying to make moves on you when we’re already together?! i’m gonna kill them when i find out who it is!” he exclaims, hands instinctively sparking with heat that scares off the other students walking by.

you mentally facepalm at this. still, you go about reassuring him that you won’t be swayed and take his hand to walk to the dorms together.

“katsu, you know it’s going to take more than a love letter to make me leave you, right?”

“heh, damn right, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more that’s for fucking sure,” he sneers, a confident smirk on his face as he knows everyone else never had a chance with you to begin with. they can keep sending those letters and he’d make sure to burn them before they could even reach your hand.

on the way back to the dorms, he makes a conscious effort at pda—arm wrapped around your waist while his eyes glare daggers at any extra that even so much as looks at you the wrong way—asserting his claim over you.

meanwhile, having bared witness to that whole scene, your secret admirer is trembling in the corner. they make note to never send you another letter again unless they want their life to flash before their eyes in a fiery explosion.

KAMINARI DENKI

surprisingly enough, kaminari takes the whole situation more positively than most people expected.

in fact, he’s actually prideful about it.

just as he’s about to head over to your locker so you two could walk to class together, sero pokes his shoulder.

“hey, did you see all those written love confessions in y/n’s locker?” sero whispers behind his cupped hand near kaminari’s ear.

the blond scrunches his nose, confused. “no. what love confessions?”

“the letters that were stuffed in your girlfriend’s locker.”

again, kaminari is still puzzled at this. he realizes there’s only one way to understand what sero means.

when he glances in your direction he’s met with you fumbling around with a pile of letters balanced in your arms. his vision zeroes in on the envelopes, deciphering the fancy stationary and pretty embroidery.

oh. they’re love letters.

“other people are trying to make moves on your girl. what are you going to do about it, kaminari?” sero chimes in with an important question and honestly, kaminari can’t exactly make out a solution. or rather, he feels he doesn’t need to.

sure, he should be a little annoyed over the fact that others are disregarding your relationship.

yet could he really blame them for taking such a liking to you?

you’re pretty, smart, nice—the whole damn package.

he’d be more shocked if you didn’t have any secret admirers lurking around.

kaminari decides to leave his friend’s question relatively unanswered and continues his trek to your locker.

“hey, pretty girl! whatcha got there?”

taken off guard by his appearance, you nearly drop all the letters in your arms.

“denki, you scared me!” you exclaim. “these? they’re just some love letters some anonymous person placed in my locker. don’t worry though! i don’t plan on returning their feelings.”

smiling at how quickly you reassure him, he crosses his arms behind his head. “nah i’m not worried, babe. i don’t feel threatened or anything. it only makes sense that my girl is popular after all!”

you’re pleasantly surprised by how rationally he reacts to the scenario. though, knowing his character, he can’t just seem to leave it at that.

“yep, seems like we’re quite the popular couple!” he grabs your hand, wanting to show each other off as you make your way to class.

the bakusquad sees this as another opportunity to egg him on.

“and just how many love letters have you received since the beginning of the school year, kaminari?”

the blond freezes at the question. kaminari bites back words, but begrudgingly answers.

“...zero.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

“heya, babe!” kirishima enthusiastically calls to you, approaching your shoe locker. “ready to go back to the dorms?”

“yeah! in just a second though!” you reply.

as kirishima comes closer, he sees you occupied with some envelopes in your hand.

“what’re all those?” he asks, pointing at the refined stationary curiously.

“ah some letters gifted to me from an anonymous admirer. something about wanting to make their feelings finally known, but i’m not interested in them,” you say, clearing up everything before a misunderstanding could arise.

“oh, that’s cool.”

you quirk a brow at how relatively chill he is at this revelation. you were expecting a bigger reaction at this, but kirishima just simply smiles his genuine, care-free smile.

you don’t think much of it though. shoving the letters in your bag to dispose of later, you walk side-by-side with him to the dormitories.

little do you realize that kirishima actually mistakens this as pure, platonic admiration rather than infatuation.

to him, if they had really wanted to profess their love to you, they’d do it in person where you could see and hear them. not behind fancy penmanship and some pretty paper.

after all, that’s what a true man would do!

but as the days continue to roll by, he’s starting to have second thoughts.

“y/n, i’m telling you, with the amount of letters you keep receiving from them, you gotta find out who this person is!” he overhears mina lecturing you at your desk, going through another pile of notes that were left in your locker from that morning. lately, you’ve been greeted by an astounding number of these things each time you visited your locker.

“mina, there’s definitely no need for me to go out of my way to find this person.”

“aw, but look at all the sweet things they said about you!” mina recites a line from one of many letters. she muses about how the writer sentimentally compares your aura to that of a dandelion wisp in the wind—free and lighthearted yet fleeting and out of reach.

“how romantic!”

you roll your eyes, indifferent, but one side-glance at kirishima from your desk tells you that he’s beginning to interpret the situation differently.

the redhead has to admit that all those things that anonymous admirer said to you were… pretty sweet.

kirishima has always been a man of action—an passionate believer that actions spoke volumes compared to words alone. however, after hearing all of that, he’s wondering how he’s able to compete in that aspect.

he seeks you out during lunch and asks you something beneath a lonely corner of trees.

“y/n, do those kinds of things make you happy..?”

you tilt your head, curious about what he’s exactly referring to. one glimpse back at his demeanor in the classroom earlier with mina gives you an idea.

“do you mean all those letters i keep getting?”

kirishima nods slowly.

“well… i have to admit, it is nice to know that i’m ‘liked’ by other people,” you phrase delicately. “but all those pretty letters and sweet words don’t mean anything to me if they aren’t coming from you. besides, i always thought it’s better to let your actions speak for you, don’t you think?”

hearing your answer, kirishima’s face lights up immediately. before you can properly react, a pair of lips meet your cheek.

you rub the warm skin where his lips touched, flustered for a moment. kirishima grabs your hand, walking you two back to the lunchroom with a newfound surge of conviction in his steps.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

“ooh, look midoriya, seems like someone else has a crush on your girl.”

as midoriya’s tidying up his red shoes and bringing out his slippers for class, his male classmates inform him of the pink envelope held in your hands.

midoriya looks over in your direction. he watches as you peel the letter out of the envelope and begin reading its contents.

he doesn’t miss the slight flustered look on your features, observing how you scan through the writing while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing over your shoulder as if your secret admirer was peering at you from behind.

“you better hold onto her tightly if you don’t want her stolen from you,” one of the boys warns, more so as a joke, but midoriya doesn’t take their banter lightly.

“knock it off, guys. just because someone else likes her doesn’t mean she’s going to leave me or anything,” he says this with as much confidence as he can muster, but his demeanor betrays him.

when he goes past your desk in the classroom later, he can’t seem to meet your eyes.

“good morning, izuku!” you greet him mirthfully. however, midoriya fails to return the greeting with the same enthusiasm.

“g-good morning, y/n…”

it’s hard for you not to notice that something is up by the way he heads straight to his desk afterward without another word.

throughout class, midoriya finds it a challenge to concentrate on anything but that letter you received that morning. his mind stumbles into the hole of bad possibilities—ones of you leaving him, those sweet words from your anonymous admirer making your heart flutter more than he ever has.

“—zuku… ‘zuku… izuku!”

he gets pulled out from his thoughts by your voice and turns to see the concerned look on your face.

“you okay? you haven’t touched your pork cutlet bowl this entire time.”

he stares down at his food, untouched since he sat down. “oh sorry, i guess something’s just been on my mind today.”

your brows knit together. “it’s about the letter i got today, isn’t it?”

midoriya stares at you, debating whether to deny your statement, but knows it’s pointless to try when it must have been obvious.

you take his silence as confirmation and grasp his hand that lays flat on the table.

“izuku, look at me,” you tell him and watch as his eyes slowly trail to you. “you know i wouldn’t leave you over some silly letter, right? no amount of words they can say to me could ever make me think differently about you.”

at this, a comforted smile spreads on midoriya’s face. he nods and squeezes your hand as a sign he took your words to heart before chowing down on his food, the uncertainty inside him disappearing.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

“another one?” you inquire to yourself in disbelief, opening your shoe locker to discover a rose-colored envelope waiting for you atop your slippers.

“dang, y/n, that’s like the fourth one this week!” uraraka comments, peeking over your shoulder.

“ooh! i wanna see what they wrote for you this time!” mina approaches from behind. you allow her to grab the delicate letter from your fingertips.

she over-exaggeratedly clears her throat, unwrinkling the paper by pinching at the sides. “‘you are the one who brought me sunshine when i only saw rain.’”

“aw! how sweet!” uraraka clasps her hands above her heart, seeming almost moved.

though the girls are all smitten by the love poem, you bite your tongue, hoping to suppress the urge to gag in front of them.

your boyfriend shinsou is on equal wavelength as you, witnessing the scene unfolding so early in the morning. he’s grown tired of replaying this spectacle for the past four days now.

his eyes navigate to the note and envelope in mina’s hand. by the script and the use of the same stationary, shinsou can tell the love letters you’ve been receiving are all from the same person.

“damn dude, you got some serious competition.” overhearing the girls, kaminari jabs at shinsou’s sides teasingly. “so, you gonna do anything about that mysterious guy trying to go after your girl?”

the violet-haired boy shrugs. “why should i? it’s not like i feel threatened.”

kaminari whistles at his confidence.

shinsou says he doesn’t care about it, putting on a level-headed and indifferent facade. but that was honestly far from the truth.

in actuality, he’s a bit pissed.

what kind of person goes around sending anonymous love messages to someone who’s already in a relationship? what the hell do they hope to gain out of doing this?

shinsou more than trusts you won’t be swayed by them, no matter how many times those notes discourteously greet you every morning.

you never bring up the topic of the letters whenever you two are alone, not wanting shinsou to be bothered over it and create a hassle. all in all, he’s grateful for this, and also for the fact that you make a point of never taking any of those letters seriously and dump them into the trash bin whenever the chance arises.

however, he can tell by your body language that the whole situation bothers you and makes you uneasy.

so, during one incredibly early morning, he decides to do some scouting.

he plays off his odd punctuality by saying he left something in the classroom yesterday and wants to get there early to look for it.

lo and behold, he finds a male student hovering around the lockers—suspiciously darting his head back and forth to be on the lookout for any other students.

little does he realize he’s already been caught red-handed.

“hey you.” shinsou abruptly calls out to him and the boy nearly jumps. “what are you doing here?”

the boy panics at his question, fumbling with his answer while hiding something behind his back—what shinsou presumes to be another one of those cheesy letters.

“u-um, just want to get to class early!” he sputters.

“is there any special reason you’re standing in front of my girlfriend’s locker then? ’cause last i checked, the lockers for general education students were located on the opposite side.” shinsou emphasizes his words with a bite of malice, arms crossed.

“i just lost my way is all–” the student suddenly stops mid-speech, his words and actions forcibly coming to a halt. all thoughts are overturned in the presence of shinsou’s quirk.

“i’m going to make this quick and easy for you to understand. not only are you going to forget about this conversation, but you’re also going to stop handing my girlfriend those love letters.” shinsou bends down to the boy’s height, staring at the abyss in his expression.

“and i’d also appreciate it if you kept your eyes off what’s mine.”

it’s safe to say, your influx of letters had been effectively cut off after that day.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

todoroki is no stranger to finding love letters from avid admirers and fans in his shoe locker before and after classes.

in fact, an unprecedented number of them had begun taking up all the space there after his impressive performance at the sports festival.

when he started dating you, however, he had made a clear declaration that he wouldn’t be accepting anymore of them.

but to be on the opposite end of having to watch you unlatch the door of your locker to have letters and notes practically tumbling out, todoroki wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this feeling that made his stomach twist into knots.

he notices the alarming amount of them and concludes they’re all from various students in different grades and departments.

“y/n, you’re getting pretty popular,” uraraka says, eyeing the stack of envelopes. “must be your dance performance from the culture festival! i remember you did get a lot of cheers in the crowd.”

“guess all those cheers came with a lot of fanboys, huh?” the invisible girl, hagakure, teases.

you jokingly nudge at them to stop with the teasing, but pause when your eyes cross todoroki’s. he’s giving you a look you can’t decipher—one that edges between troubled and apathetic yet you can’t tell which it is.

you send him a nod, silently acknowledging his presence as he waits for you to finish your business so you could head back to the dorms together.

watching you dispose of the various piles of letters has todoroki contemplating about what uraraka and hagakure commented on. about how popular you were getting and how your admirers have been bold enough to profess their reverence for you despite your relationship status.

todoroki’s not entirely sure what to make of this information. he doesn’t linger on it for long though when you finally approach him, your sneakers slipped on and your backpack securely hanging off your shoulders.

“ready to head home?”

a smile finds his lips at your appearance. he softly utters his response.

during the small distance to the dormitories, todoroki reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers together. as seemingly minor the gesture is at this point of your relationship, it’s a detail you mentally take note of.

usually, when it came to publicly displaying physical forms of affection, you were the one to initiate it. you have to admit, seeing the assertive side of todoroki is like a small breath of fresh air.

as you continue your short journey home, a couple of male students walking by greet you enthusiastically. though you wave back to kindly acknowledge them, you feel the grip on your hand tighten, followed by a slight tug closer to todoroki’s side.

that alone is enough for you to realize something is definitely troubling him.

“sho, is there something wrong?” you ask, steps still walking in tandem with him.

todoroki’s voice doesn’t waver in the slightest as he replies, “no, why would you think that?”

“you’ve been awfully possessive all of a sudden,” you note, “is this because of those letters from earlier?”

“...maybe.”

you quirk a brow, amused. “is that a yes or a no?”

now todoroki is silent. your steps come to a halt. not parting your laced hands from his, you turn to look him in the eye.

“sho?”

“it’s just… when i realize that there are other people looking at you the same way i do, i get… uneasy.” his gaze drops to the ground as he confesses this, hand squeezing yours. the uncomfortable churning in his stomach settles a bit now that the words are out, but he finds it hard to ease the atmosphere.

this is where you picked up from where he left off. your hand goes to his cheek, gently cupping it so you can tilt his head up at you.

“oh shouto, you have to know that you’re the only one for me and i don’t plan on looking at anyone else but you,” you assure him. todoroki stares into your eyes, and in them, he can’t find any hesitance or flutter of doubt.

at this, he lifts your twined hands and grazes your knuckles ever so softly against his lips, wondering whatever troubled him so much to begin with.

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist  |   Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl 

[katyasrussianaccent]

you're so golden (corpse x reader)

Summary: You're a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?

Author's Note: Don't hate me! This was gonna be a cute chapter but then I decided against that. Credit to @moontwinkles for the spilling scene idea. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

The sound of your alarm wakes you from your slumber with a suddenness. Bleary-eyed, you roll over to turn it off, letting out a small sigh as your body and brain start to awaken. You’re going to meet Corpse. You’re going to meet Corpse. It bares repeating in your mind; the prospect still not quite registering.

You haven’t had the greatest sleep, your mind racing most of the night; skittish little thoughts that had you tapping your toes on the mattress in agitation as you struggled to turn them off. Sunlight streams through the cracks in your blinds, a warm glow painted in stripes on your wall. It was going to be a good day, tiredness be damned.

You get up, stretching your arms out as wide as possible and relishing in the relief as your muscles unclench themselves. There’s a little spring in your step as you walk to the bathroom, to wash your face and brush your teeth. You aren’t nervous as you pick out your favourite outfit, instead you feel excited. It’s funny how little scraps of fabric and thread can impact your mood so much, but you smile at your reflection, the feeling of confidence is nice, albeit rare.

The rumbling in your stomach signals that you need to eat something before you leave. Nothing too fancy, just some toast and a glass of juice. You can feel the nerves start to grow a little, the food sits heavy on your tongue, forcing you to swallow it. You grab your phone, scrolling as you chew. You go onto Corpse’s twitter, smiling at the picture he’s posted.

Out of curiosity, you go onto his likes. You always find his likes interesting; the random things he’s added gives you more of an insight to his thoughts and feelings. You chew the inside of your cheek as you scroll down past girls with perfect skin and bodies; your previous confidence now feels a little misplaced.

Deciding against letting it ruin your mood, you close the tab and go to grab your bag before locking your door and heading to your car. You text Rae to let her know you’re leaving and she replies almost immediately to wish you luck. Sitting in front of the steering wheel, you exhale as you start the engine and begin to drive. This was really happening. When Corpse had asked to meet, you were shocked. While you had discussed it, you had been under the assumption it would be a while before it happened. You just hope you don’t make an idiot of yourself; a tendency you had when you were nervous.

While you love the city, there’s something about driving on the open road. No noise, just the sound of tires on concrete. The scenery remains the same; nothing but trees and the occasional house far in the horizon. You’re meeting him in Santa Barbara; a place you’ve been to once in your life, so it might as well be brand new. It’s halfway between both of you, and while it’s still a few hours drive, you’ve got good music and some sunshine to keep you happy.

The drive flies in and before you know it, you’ve arrived. You’re meeting at a cafe that sells bubble tea; it was Corpse’s recommendation. It’s a charming little place, with white table and chairs on a cobbled patio area. The building itself is white brick, plant pots decorate the window sills and there’s a small crowd of people waiting in line. You turn off the engine, and grab the perfume out your bag, the smell of peaches invading your nostrils. With one last look at yourself, you exit your car and make your way to the cafe.

You’re not sure how you’ll find him, being faceless and all. A quick scan of the people around you, your eyes zero in on a figure dressed all in black, leaning against a wall that’s slightly in the shade. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you look at him from afar, your feet apparently unable to move on their own accord. He stands out amongst the brightly coloured outfits of everyone else, and you can see the sun glint against the chains on his jeans.

“Hi,” you greet, your hand going up to half-wave at him. He’s handsome; pale skin and cheekbones that disappear under the fabric of his mask. A mop of black curls are atop his head, falling out in different directions, and he brushes one off his forehead as he looks at you.

“Hey,” he replies and you smile a little. There’s a thick fog of awkwardness between you as you both take each other in, though trying not to look so obvious about it. You feel under scrutiny as his eyes move over you, and you meet his gaze before you both look down at the ground, a faint blush on your cheeks.

“How was the drive?,” you ask at the same time he does, causing you both to laugh. “Oh. Uh yeah it was good, thanks, how was yours?”

“Yeah it was good,” he replies, his eyes still on the ground.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

You scream internally as your eyes dart around, looking for something, anything to break this awkwardness. It shouldn’t be like this, you have such great chemistry on the phone and online, but there’s nothing right now. Is it you? There’s a niggling in your brain that says he was fine until now; until he saw you.

“We could go, uh, into the cafe? Get some food?” he suggests, breaking you from your self deprecating thoughts. You nod and you follow him to the door. He opens it and you dodge out the way as it narrowly escapes hitting you in the face. Corpse mutters an apology as he walks in, his eyes glued to the ground.

You order together; you get yourself a boba tea and a burger and Corpse does the same. He pays without saying anything to you, and while the day’s isn’t going quite as you pictured, the gesture makes your cheeks warm. You desperately hope it gets better. Maybe you’ve misread the situation and the chemistry you felt you had was just friendship on his part. Friends flirt all the time, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

Your food arrives and you sit in relative silence as you eat. The times you do speak is stilted, full of one word answers and obvious observations. You go to reach for your boba as Corpse goes to grab salt, and the movement of his hand plus the crampedness of the table pushes your own hand back towards you, knocking the cup all over your neck and chest. Corpse shoots up in a speed that shouldn’t be human, his hand full of napkins as he comes towards you. The liquid is cold against your skin, and you look down to see your outfit now ruined, the fabric sticking to you in wet patches.

“I’m such a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry,” Corpse says, his tone panicky as he dabs at your neck. He continues to dab, his hands pressing at the neckline of your top and if this was another time, you’d feel all fluttery at his hands on your skin. But it’s not, you’re uncomfortable and the day has sucked so far and all you want to do is go home. He discards the napkin onto the table and grabs another, his fingers warm against your collarbone as he presses the tissue. He doesn’t realise that he’s travelling downwards to your chest before he presses once, twice, before retracting his hand back like he’s been burned, the napkin falling to the floor. “Uh fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I - “

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’ve always wanted apple scented boobs, guess I can check that off my bucket list.” It’s a failed joke but humour is a defence mechanism for you, even if it’s not very funny. Corpse widens his eyes a little, his gaze fixed on the napkin that’s on the floor.

He hands you some more napkins and you clean up a little more. Your skin feels sticky, and you smell of artificial apple; but the apple isn’t sweet, it’s bitter and slightly unpleasant.

“Uh, I should probably go home and get a shower, I feel like I fell into a vat of sugar,” you say, standing up and grabbing your bag.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so clumsy,” Corpse replies. You can tell he feels awful, and while you sympathise, he’s not the one that’s just had almost a full cup of boba spilled on him.

You shake your head, “It’s fine, really. I just feel really gross. Don’t worry about it.” You smile in what you hope comes across as reassurance.

“Let me walk you back to your car,” he says. You nod and walk out together in silence; something you had gotten used to throughout the day.

“Have a safe drive back,” you say as you get to your car.

“I will. Let me know when you get home?” he asks, and you nod.

“Shall do. Goodbye Corpse,” you say, opening the door and waving at him through the window. He waves back and you watch him through the rearview mirror as he disappears out of sight. You feel like an idiot for believing this was going to be good, like you ever had a chance with him. You’d been saying it since the start; that it wouldn’t work, you had nothing in common, nothing to talk about. And you were right. Sometimes you hated being right.

You turn the engine on and sit there for a second, your head pressing against the steering wheel. What a waste of time this was. Grabbing your phone, you tweet quickly.

“Oh well, let’s go wallow in self pity,” you whisper before driving off.

Taglist: @genshinglitter @fanworrior @cherry-piee @mirahg @clara-bee @clubfairy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @more-like-reyna @boiled-onionrings @moneybagmgk @brendalopez99 @delicateavenuenacho @dreamsofficialwife @hydrate-tion @oi-itsemily @letsloveimagines @softforqiankun @evilunicorns4minions @captain-willowwitch @afuckingunicornn @theroyalbrownbarbie @buttersnitzle @officiallyunofficialperson @aha-red @frostbitelokii @butterfly-skinnylegend @sofianunes10 @ghostfacefricker6969 @alienvarmint @helena-way07 @woah2pointo @jasmine2042003 @youhyakuya @adore-holland @hyunjinhugs @finahja @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker @only-corpse-hands @remugoodgirl @gowhiteboygo-poggers @open-minded-chip-101 @daveedfanfics @justakpopstans @majasophieanna @mxjetlagcity @strawberrydonkey @meowtella @lizzylynch1 @chesca-791 @anescapefromtheworld @unded-bride @majasophieanna @adorkably @lost--in--the--moon @euphoricseokjin

[donald4spiderman]

Ok hear me out. Spencer is dating Reader and she’s always hated that she’s been more chubby/curvy. And one night in the middle of a case she calls him crying and Spencer just gets really soft and calms her down after a bad nightmare. And his heart breaks cause his loving girlfriend hates her body. So Spencer plans this elaborate date and proposes maybe? You can decide if the team have met her or not. I’d like it to be the original team but if you wanna combine the original and new teams together that’s cool too!

no bc my body image issues have been rampant lately so this is personal as hell to me. I work out a lot and i’m fit but i’ve never been SKINNY like i have thick legs and muscular arms andnnfnfjndjnffn so this is personal.

I modified this a bit but it’s still the same premises hope you like it! ***BTW IN THIS UNIVERSE THE S3-7 CAST EXISTS FOR THE ENTIRE SHOW— SO THE LATER SEASONS HAVE MORGAN AND HOTCH.

also sorry this is a long

TW: body image issues, discussions of food & weight, insecurity, crying, kissing

WC: 1.5k

-

You know, pragmatically, that you have nothing to worry about. Spencer chose you. And for the past four years, Spencer has worshipped you every day— again and again. He is the most loving, considerate, and tender partner you could ever wish for. He is near perfection.

You’ve met Spencer's friends many times. You’re not close with either of your parents, so the team of profilers welcomed you into their arms with grace and care. Each and every one of them is beautifully amazing and exceptionally brilliant.

Spencer‘s friends are not only badass, but they’re also gorgeous. JJ, Emily, and Garcia are national treasures— so visually stunning it’s almost sickening.

You knew he used to have a crush on JJ way before he met you. You’ve also heard the tale of Lila Archer, the celebrity actress who made out with your boyfriend in a pool. Spencer’s had an eventful life, full of beautiful, sweet, magnificent women— so why does he choose you?

You view yourself as bland in comparison. What do you have to offer Spencer that he can’t find elsewhere? You don’t have toned abs, slim hips, and slender arms. You’re not striking in any way.

Spencer calls you every night when he’s away on a case. He’s never missed a call, even when he got shot in the neck and kidnapped by a murderous cult. He’s reliable and consistent, and that eases your worries a little bit.

It’s eleven pm in D.C. and your phone rings right as your getting in bed.

“Hi, my love,” Spencer says breathily, his voice slightly muffled by the phone. He’s away in Ohio for a case.

“Hey.” You reply, the sweetness in his voice soured by your mood. “How’s the case going?”

“Good. JJ and I are about to pass out in our beds— we’re so tired.”

You can’t help the way your face drops. “Oh. Well, get rest.”

Your about to hang up before he interjects. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” You know better than to lie to your boyfriend, who happens to be an expert on human behavior.

“Okay, I know a lie when I hear one. (Y/N), baby, what’s wrong?” He pleads.

You can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry. I just miss you so much. You always know what to do when I’m feeling like shit.”

Spencer knows how much you struggle with self and bodily acceptance. He hates the world for making you feel anything less than incredible, both inside and out.

“I miss you too, so much, (Y/N).” His voice is thick as if he’s going to start crying too. “I love you so much, so fucking much. You have no idea how beautiful and amazing you are.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He laughs through a sob that wrecks his body. “You deserve everything in this world. I promise to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You are the love of my life.”

You wipe the tears from underneath your eyes. “Sorry for keeping you up. You must be tired.”

“Never, if it means I get to talk to you.”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than you’ll ever know.”

-

Spencer wakes up the next day with a newfound determination. The team solves the case as fast as possible, and by the end of the night, they’ve boarded the jet back home.

Spencer has more than enough hours to think about you and how much you mean to him. Hotch is seated directly across from him, rereading the case files.

“Hotch?” The wiser man looks up from his files, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer pauses for a moment. Maybe he’d be better asking Morgan or JJ for advice, considering Hotch’s tragic circumstances regarding Haley.

But no one loves like Hotch does-- sincerely, passionately-- stronger than anything else in the world. Spencer decides there’s no one better to ask.

“How uh did you know that Haley was the one?”

Hotch’s eyes soften for a bit. He clears his throat. “I knew since the day I met her that I would love her for the rest of my life unconditionally. She makes me complete. Do you feel that (Y/N) makes you complete?”

He already knows why Spencer is asking for his advice, steering the conversation in that direction.

“Yes. She’s my world.” Spencer whispers.

“Then it’s simple, really. Love doesn’t need to be complicated and precise. It’s what you do with it that matters.”

“I want to marry her, Hotch. I want to be with her for the rest of my life.”

Hotch smiles, “Then do it.”

Spencer feels the rush of excitement as he gathers everyone on the jet, including the prior sleeping passengers, filling them in on his big plans.

“I need all of your guys’ help.”

-

There’s a firm knock on your door at four in the morning. You know it isn’t Spencer because he has a key, but who could it be?

You take a cautious look out of your peephole to find Penelope, Emily, and JJ outside.

“What are you guys doing here?” You yawn. “For god's sake, it’s four am.”

“We know, and we’re sorry.” Penelope smiles.

“Is Spencer alright?” You ask, wondering if things suddenly went wrong during the case.

But by the joyous look on their face, you know nothing somber occurred.

“Spencer’s completely fine. But, we need to you to get changed and come with us. FBI’s orders.” JJ chuckles.

You change into warmer clothes in minutes, and the BAU ladies usher you into Emily’s car as fast as possible.

“So, no ones gonna tell me what’s going on?”

They shake their heads, “We’re just... running a quick errand.”

After a few more minutes of driving, Emily parks on the side of a dimly lit street.

“I need you to put this on.” She says, holding up a blindfold.

“Are you guys gonna murder me?” You joke, slipping the fabric over your eyes with little resistance.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” You don’t have time to think about what Penelope means before you’re being yanked out of the car.

You walk, guided by JJ, for four minutes. The grass beneath you crushes below your boots, and the hushed whispers of Emily and Penelope behind you do nothing to calm your nerves.

“Okay,” JJ says, halting to a stop. “You can take off your blindfold now.”

You hesitantly slip the blindfold off, revealing a brightly lit table in the middle of a secluded field. Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi are standing off to the sides.

Suddenly, Spencer emerges from behind a tree, dusting the leaves and dirt off his adorable sweater.

“Hi?” You laugh, utterly confused by this situation. “What’s going on?”

His hands are shaking, and he has to swallow a few times before he can speak. “I-I uh got y-you apple pie— uh your favorite.”

Spencer walks you towards the table, where a small slice of warm pie sits lonely on the table.

“Y-you should um... eat it.” He urges, pointing at the knife and fork next to it.

You glance around, trying to gauge the emotions of everyone around you, but fail. Stupid profilers and their poker faces.

Your fork cuts into the heavenly smelling pie, and you scoop up a bite into your mouth.

“It’s... good? I’ll pretty much eat any pie you give me, Spencer.”

He smiles, “I know that. But t-this is a special pie.”

“Okay...”

“You should t-take a closer look— at the pie.”

You inspect the dessert, completely puzzled until a glinting piece of silver catches your eye. Spencer notices the shock in your face and catches the plate that almost falls out of your hand.

Morgan hands him a napkin, and when Spencer pulls an apple-covered ring from the slice of pie, you almost faint.

“No way.” You gasp; tears spring to your eyes as Spencer wipes the ring clean.

He holds it tightly between two fingers, bending to kneel on one knee.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), I knew from the moment I met you that you were the most special woman I’d have the pleasure of meeting. A month later, you asked me out for our first date, and I couldn’t believe that someone as gorgeous and amazing as you would settle for someone like me.” You scoff at his humility.

“I spend every moment loving every part of you, (Y/N). None of my love will ever stop— ever. I promise to share my heart with you until the very end. There is absolutely no one I would rather be bonded to for the rest of my life. You are better than my dream girl because you’re real. You’re here, and you chose to love me every day— the good, the bad, and the ugly. (Y/N), will you do me the honor and great privilege of allowing me to become your husband?” You silently sob.

“Please say yes.” Spencer smiles.

“Yes!” You exclaim, pulling him up to hug him. “How could I say anything but!”

The dam breaks, and the entire team begins to cry as you and Spencer share a passionate kiss, almost collapsing down onto the grass from the sheer force of your love. He slips the ring onto your finger; it belongs there.

“I choose you, (Y/N).” He repeats.

“I choose you, Spencer, always.” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

Nothing’s ever felt so right.

[gukyi]

in the frosty air | a jjk drabble

summary: two weeks ago you and your roommate slept together. which would be fine, if you knew you both felt the same about each other. but you don’t. and now it’s christmas, and jungkook is still gorgeous and gentle and wonderful and here, and and you don’t really know what to do about that.

{college!au, roommates!au}

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: this is just an angst train tbh, but it has a happy ending! word count: 1.6k warnings: mentions of past alcohol consumption, this centers around everyone’s favorite capitalist holiday, being sad in the wintertime a/n: OHHHHHHHHHH *internet breaks* anyway yeah i’m back baby!!! here’s a little drabble to celebrate because i can’t help myself when it comes to jungkook. love me or we both go down coming soon!

“This Christmas is pretty fucking lame, isn’t it?”

You whip around at the sound of his voice. “Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I figured,” Jungkook chuckles, bending his head down as he crawls through the open window to join you on the fire escape. The temperature is freezing and the wind is stinging your skin, but it didn’t really feel right to be spending tonight inside. “Saw the window open. Thought you might be here.”

“Yeah. I was probably gonna head inside soon, though.” In the hopes that you would be curled up in your bedroom before Jungkook even got home. Seeing him lately has been hard. “How did your final go?”

“It was alright.” You don’t have to keep looking at him to feel Jungkook taking a seat next to you, crossing his legs over each other as he stares out into the city below you. It snowed a few days ago, and the sidewalks are still covered in that dirty slush that always lingers, wet and cold and black from car tires. Just being beside you makes your heart race, makes your chest tighten. “I was pretty stressed out about it, but then I just sort of remembered that I did my best and that was all I could do, you know?”

“That’s good.” You wish you had that mindset. You spend days studying for an exam and once it’s over, you spend days dwelling on all the things you might have gotten wrong. It’s a philosophy you apply to most aspects of your life. Why you did the thing you did. Why doing the thing you did was the worst thing you could have done. How you will recover from it. If you even will. 

Jungkook sighs. You turn to look at him, just briefly, glance at his side figure, and notice he’s wearing nothing but a giant zip-up hoodie. Isn’t he cold? “It doesn’t really feel like Christmas.”

“Yeah.” You don’t have anything else to say to that. It doesn’t. Which is a damn shame, because you and Jungkook spent the entire beginning of this month turning your tiny, two-bedroom apartment into a winter wonderland. You got a tree to put up next to your TV and decorated with the weirdest ornaments you could find. You hung up those dangly white Christmas lights on the balcony of your fire escape, the ones meant to look like icicles dripping from the metal railing. The radio has been playing nothing but Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey. And yet.

It’s not hard to wonder why this Christmas is such shit. Your spring internship fell through a week ago. Your parents rented a lake house and assumed you wouldn’t be coming with. All of your other friends have gone home already. And Jungkook, perhaps the last person in this whole goddamn city you would have wanted to spend time with, you can’t even bear to look at. 

“How did your finals go?” Jungkook asks, trying to keep the conversation going. 

“They were fine.” At least that torture is over. But living with Jungkook, seeing him every day and knowing that what you have done you can never undo--it’s endless. 

There’s silence. It’s like the two of you simultaneously have no idea and know exactly what to say. Like the words are lingering on the tips of your tongues but your lips are sealed shut. Opening them won’t be like a can of worms. It will be a dam, a waterfall of I’m sorrys and What nows. One week ago, in the heat of the night and in the haze of drink after drink, you and Jungkook made the worst mistake two roommates could ever make. 

“Are you going home this break?” You blurt out the words before you can stop yourself. 

Jungkook sighs. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s okay if you want to.” I get it. I’m not sure if I’d want to hang around and see me either. 

He shrugs. “I just haven’t decided yet.”

He knows that you’re staying. The two of you were so looking forward to spending Christmas together. Now look at you. Jungkook was the perfect roommate. Then everything changed. 

“Okay.” He’s probably just trying to figure out a way to let you down easy. 

Next to you, Jungkook rustles a hand through his pocket. “By the way, uh--I just remembered. I got you something.”

You don’t even have time to object before Jungkook is placing a small fabric box into your open palm, resting on your lap. You look down at the item, at the way your hand seems to envelop it. 

“You didn’t have to--”

“I wanted to.” Jungkook is firm in his response. “Besides, I got it a while ago. Figured now is as good a time as any to give it to you.”

There’s not really anything else to do except open it. Carefully, with trembling fingers, you pull off the lid. Inside sits a dainty silver locket resting amongst a pile of folded tissue paper. You gasp, your breath coming out in smoke in the cold winter air. 

“Oh my God, I--”

“I overheard you talking on the phone saying you wanted one,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. “I wanted to give it to you before I forgot.”

Fingers shaking from the cold, you pull the locket from the box. It dangles from its chain, a delicate little thing, barely the size of a fingerprint. Even on this hazy winter evening, it still catches the light.

For the first time tonight, you look up at him. His eyes are a swirling brown, a deep chocolate. They are unreadable. He offers a small, guarded smile your way, lips pink in the chilly air. “Thank you,” you tell him honestly. This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for you. 

You can’t accept this without returning the favor. Wordlessly, you get up from the fire escape, rushing indoors for a moment as you grab your gift from your bedroom. It’s been sitting in there for at least two weeks now. You hold your hand behind your back as you make your way back to the fire escape, sitting down next to him once more. 

With a small flourish, you reveal your own present. They’re drumsticks. 

“For you,” you tell him, that same small grin on your face. “Since you’re always drumming on everything. Thought you could use something to do that with.”

Jungkook looks positively starstruck. He takes the sticks in his hands, feels the wood with his fingers, tracing over the logo at the bottom. You aren’t very well versed in the world of drum equipment, but your friend in the orchestra told you it was a good brand. 

“Wow, Y/N,” he says, mouth agape. “This is... this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever gotten me. Thank you.”

“Always.”

And that’s the truth, isn’t it? No matter what you do, no matter what you say, you will always be there to give Jungkook what he deserves. To make his life just the tiniest bit better. Doing thoughtful things for him has never required effort on your part. There is just a part of you that will do them, because he deserves it. Because he is so gentle, and loving, and kind, and wonderful. 

You sit there for a little while longer, relishing in the brief respite of your gift exchange. It’s softened the ice, warmed the air, broken the tension. Even if only a little. But it’s enough to keep you out here, sitting next to him. It’s enough to keep you from drifting away. 

“I don’t regret that night.”

The words feel like biting wind. 

“What?” You turn to him. 

“I don’t. I’d do it again. A thousand times over.” Jungkook is resolute. He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed in determination. 

“Jungkook, what happened that night--”

“Is something I’ll never forget,” he finishes. “Do you know how fucking long I had been waiting to do that? To hold you? Kiss you? To spend the night with you?”

Each syllable presses deeper into your chest, imprinting themselves on your heart. You stare back at him, too shocked to say anything at all. 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” Jungkook adds on, quickly backtracking. “I sort of... got that message when I woke up that morning and you were gone. But I just wanted you to know that that night didn’t change anything about how I feel about you.”

Jungkook’s got it all wrong. You were the one who fucked up. You were the one whose feelings won’t change. “I thought you were the one who didn’t feel the same.”

Jungkook chuckles, this sad, forced cough. “Are you kidding? I’d do anything to relive that night. You’re my favorite person in this whole world, Y/N.”

If the weather were just a little bit warmer, if the wind wasn’t as dry, perhaps tears would fall. But instead, you blink back at him and it feels at once like your heart weighs a million pounds and nothing at all. “Me too,” you choke out. “I never want to be without you.”

Your fire escape is barely big enough for one person, let alone two, but that doesn’t stop Jungkook from reaching over and pulling you in, pressing a chilly kiss to your frozen lips, the heat of his mouth warming you up from the inside out. It’s cold tonight, yes. But Jungkook makes you feel like it’s summer all year long. 

You smile against his lips. They feel like home. They taste like peppermint lip balm and coffee and ice. 

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks. As if he was even thinking about going home anyway. 

“Yes,” you whisper back. 

It feels a lot more like Christmas now. 

“Then I’ll stay.”

↳ don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback! i missed you guys!

[sugawara-sweetheart]

parasite | part ii (m)

❥oikawa x fem!reader x kunimi x kindaichi | seijoh x fem!reader 

❥warnings: mentions/descriptions of somnophilia, public sex, rough sex, biting | minor implication of cheating | Stockholm syndrome, manipulation | noncon, heavy degradation, humiliation, spitting, voyeurism, nipple play, dacryphilia, handjob, choking, slapping, cock-slapping, facial + creampie

❥word count: 5.4k

hell has always been depicted one way. crimson fire and blood sweeping across, anguished face melting into skulls, darkness plaguing. but that’s wrong.

this is hell.

being oikawa tōru’s dirty little cumslut is hell.

you thought it would’ve gotten better after almost three years of finishing high school had passed but it’s the same. you wake with a heavy heart, stinging tears building in your eyes and oikawa’s cock forced its way into your aching cunt, his lips pressed to your throat, staining fresh bruises over the old ones. it was foolish to think the day you folded up your aoba johsai uniform for the last time ever that you were free of your dirty time at the school, but you were so wrong.

and it isn’t just oikawa. it isn’t unusual for iwaizumi to turn up at the door of oikawa’s doorstep, not just to see his best friend because the two are still inseparably close, but to demand you.

“come on, you’ve been hogging her for too long, making her into your slut. stop being greedy and learn to share, shittykawa.” is all he spits, tugging you away roughly by the arm whilst oikawa merely laughs.

“play nice, iwa-chan!” is all he calls, waving you away.

sometimes iwaizumi just can’t wait. more often than not he’s fucked you in his car, the cold windows steaming up as he grunts in your ear, hips snapping into yours till his hot white cum spills all over your clothes, clinging to the fabric. and then when you finally return back to his apartment it happens all over again. you can’t find it in yourself to cry anymore but maybe iwaizumi’s more careful than oikawa; there’s always a tenderness in his eyes when he brushes your hair out of your sweating face, asking you if you’re okay. but what are you supposed to say? tell him no, you’re fucking done with this shit, as if they’d ever let you go?

even makki and mattsun hadn’t fully let go. the two may have moved away to tokyo for university but they still return often, sometimes together, sometimes alone. too many assignments. close deadline. girlfriend is pissing him off. and all oikawa does is laugh cheerily, swinging his arm around his shoulder, a suggestive gleam in his crinkled eyes.

“need some stress relief?” and you’re whoever’s for the night to use as they wish.

maybe if you had applied to another high school or another club or you weren’t so outgoing, things would’ve been different.

but instead you’re oikawa’s little toy to be passed around as he wishes, and he’d always been a good senpai to his underclassmen, a good captain to his former teammates even to this day.

yahaba gets you first after he graduates. you don’t know what happened to the sweet, charming boy who always went out of his way to treat you like a delicate angel because the way his hand strikes your cheek burns with a sting as he drives his cock into your cunt relentlessly, spitting about what a dirty slut you are, how you’re only good to get fucked, the only thing you can do is take cock. but he isn’t as bad as kyōtani. you were sure you were lucky to be alive, after his hands locked around your throat too hard, squeezing your airways tight till black spots began to appear in your teary vision.

even iwaizumi and oikawa had been stunned when you’d returned. deep bruises stained your arms and bite marks etched into your legs, handprints on your throat and welts on your cheeks, pink cum clinging to your panties. neither of them had been able to say anything but there was a deep crease between iwaizumi’s brows as he rubbed the ointment carefully onto you.

“gonna kill him.” he hissed to himself when you winced with the pain and flinch at his movements. but they still didn’t refuse the next time kyōtani came around asking for a go.

but even after everything- even after he lets you be used, be spat on and slapped, have your hair pulled till strands are ripped from your burning scalp and there’s bite marks bruising your skin- the only time you feel cathartic calmness wash over you is when you’re in oikawa’s arms, his fingers brushing through your hair, his clean scent filling your nose.

“oh, you’re such a cute, little slut. a good girl.” he hums, nuzzling his face against your cheek with a smile on his face. if it had been different, you’d have looked like an adorable couple perhaps. but this was anything but.

one night when you’d been lying next to oikawa, staring up at the dark ceiling, fantasies began to paint in your mind. what if your innocent teenage crush on oikawa had been reciprocated differently? maybe you’d be lying beside him optionally, that you would choose to kiss him and let him touch you and he wouldn’t laugh at you and mock you for sobbing even though your wetness is drooling from your tight, slutty hole- and even if he did, it’d be okay because it’d just be a fantasy and you know he’d love you. or what if you had refused that night what feels like so many years ago? what if you had pushed him away, asked him to leave, if you hadn’t given in to the heavy sense of not wanting to disappoint weighing down on you?

“what you thinking about?” you start slightly at oikawa’s saccharine voice purring in your ear as he shifts, pressing his body against yours and resting his hand over your waist. you try not to tense too much- he always hates it when you do. “don’t you trust me, y/n-chan? you know i’d never hurt you- why would you think i would?” he’d pout, scandalised and hurt by the idea of you being scared of him, even though you know he doesn’t really care. in fact, you’re sure he likes the fear.

“i’m just thinking.” you breathe. you can feel his eyes piercing into you, even in the darkness as your eyes flutter shut. that fantasy of being free is so beautiful. “tōru, would you ever let me go?”

“let you go?” he laughs but you feel his arm tighten around your waist. “where would you go?” you don’t reply but his legs tangle with yours and he pulls you into his hold, resting his lips against your ear. “i care for you here. i give you a home, food, clothes- anything you want i give you. you wouldn’t have anyone else like that in the world.” he sounds hurt, voice mocking and it makes your chest twinge. he wasn’t wrong; he was busy practising and playing volleyball, heading towards his dream of being a pro-athlete and competing at the very top nationwide- worldwide even perhaps- but he still always came home to you. he still always had time for you. “why would you want to go?” there’s a heavy pregnant pause and your throat feels tight before you can mumble out an apology, shaking your head to dispel the fantasies you crave. the tension washes away and you can feel his lips stretch into a smile as you curl into him. “that’s right, sweetie. you’d never want to leave me.”

spring used to be your favourite time of year. cherry blossom always looked so beautiful and there was nothing as exhilarating as finishing the long, strenuous academic year and getting to admire the beautiful pink blossom decorating the trees, drifting in the light airy breeze. before you would celebrate- it used to be sweet, happy memories to be sipping peach tea under the cherry blossom trees as the warm, spring air carried your laughter with your friends: oikawa, iwaizumi, hanamaki and matsukawa. oikawa still takes you to see it, but now pink blossom bleeds into scarlet with his fingers gripped around your wrist, a bitter taste weighs heavy on your tongue.

one spring night oikawa invites kunimi and kindaichi round. their cheeks are flushed pink with tipsy joy in the warm living room as they sip cold beers, laughing over old memories with the sounds of a volleyball game on television playing in the background. it’s supposed to be a nice thing- a senpai, a captain, treating his underclassmen for finally graduating, but your stomach still churns with anxiety, cold sweat dampening your skin even when you shuffle closer to oikawa. the soft scent of his cologne doesn’t calm you now and your glass of juice weighs heavy in your hand. you’re sure if you even try to open your mouth you’ll be sick.

but you don’t mind.

it’s better to feel ignored as you sink into the couch, staring at the blue and yellow striped ball flashing on the television than to acknowledge kunimi and kindaichi’s eyes boring into you. something about them makes your skin crawl- it’s been a few years since you’d left high school but it feels different now. back then they had adored you- you were their manager, their senpai who always gave them the coldest water bottles first, who defended them from the other senpais, who always cheered them on and offered to buy them ramen and meat buns after practise. and now you can’t say exactly what it is but they look at you differently.

“another beer?” oikawa asks and the two dark-haired boys nod. you try to swallow the thick lump in your throat when he gets up from beside you on the couch, prising his arm away from you even if you try to cling to his sleeve and the living room door snapping shut behind him makes all the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. you try not to look at them, staring at the television screen but it’s hard to focus when the bright light stings and bleeds out into white lines from the hot tears building in your orbs. there’s a flash of movement. your heart drops as you sink into the couch, horrified to find kindaichi has moved from the other end closer, kunimi standing from the armchair and towering over you.

“you guys okay?” your voice wavers and you grip the hem of your shirt tight, hoping it’ll mask how your hands tremble but you can’t even meet their eyes piercing into you.

“we’re not stupid, you know.” kindaichi spits first. you can see it now, hear it- the disgust laced in his tone, in his narrowed eyes. “we want our turn.”

“w-what?” kunimi scoffs next, shaking his head as a somewhat amused smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“don’t play dumb, y/n. we know you’ve been their little fucktoy for years now. and now it’s our turn to use you too.”

an iciness strikes through your chest as you stare at the two boys, cowering as you sink into the couch, shaking your head furiously.

“n-no! it’s not like that!”

“really?” there’s a harsh mocking to kindaichi’s tone, his eyes widened in faux disbelief. “are you saying yahaba and kyōtani were both lying? that your cunt was the tightest little hole they’d ever fucked? that you weren’t so good at taking dick right now down that little throat?” you gasp, spluttering  on your words as you try to protest. they edge closer as fear rises in you, and a desperate squeal falls from your lips when kindaichi’s heavy hand grips your shoulders, pushing you flat against the  couch.

you cry out as his fingers fumble for the buttons of your shirt, your hands clawing at his and legs flailing, and he grunts when your foot strikes into his stomach.

“you fucking bitch.” kunimi hisses, grabbing your hands as kindaichi clambers over your legs, his sheer weight feeling like it’s crushing your bones.

“stay still, dumb whore- do you think anyone’s going to help you?” the buttons come falling off your shirt as kindaichi rips it open and your scream is lost when kunimi sticks his fingers into your mouth, your throat closing up on the drool that spills from your lips.

but then the door opens and oikawa stands in the doorway, mouth hanging open and three beers in his hand.

“what’s going on?” you sob heavily when kunimi pulls his fingers from your mouth and releases your wrists, your hands immediately falling to your chest to cover yourself up and neither kindaichi nor kunimi try to stop you when you scramble away from them, hurrying to oikawa. he lets you fall into his arms as he places the beers down on the coffee table, holding you and swaying you gently with gentle shushes.

“t-tōru, t-they-” you shake as you cling to him, wet tears staining your cheeks as you bury your head in his chest and he coos as he cups the back of your head.

“oh, it’s okay, sweetie. don’t worry, i’m here now.” his voice is so gentle. but then he chuckles. his chest vibrates against your head as you tense in his hold. it doesn’t feel like safety anymore.

“you guys couldn’t wait, huh?” tuts oikawa, lifting a brow as he stares at kindaichi and kunimi, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips.

“everyone else got a go on her.” says kunimi. “so why can’t we fuck the slut too?” you flinch at his words, clinging to oikawa’s t-shirt tighter as he merely laughs.

“you can- i’m not saying you can’t. but do you even know how to fuck a woman?” you shake as he pulls you away from him, cupping your face and tilting it up so his eyes can lock with yours. he always scrutinises you, taking in your watery eyes that waver with fear, your trembling lips that whispered begs fall from.

“what was that, sweetheart? i can’t hear you.” the only sound in the room other than the ignored television is your heavy pants as you can barely gasp for air. blood rings in your ears and your heart pounds, knees feeling weak as you cling to oikawa.

“p-please, tōru- d-don’t let them.”

“aw, baby.” your eyes clench shut as he grips your face, swiping his thumb messily over your cheeks, rubbing your tears into your flushed skin roughly enough that it hurts. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.” you groan when his hand suddenly reaches under your skirt, grabbing your clothed cunt as you squirm but he’s too strong, pressing his fingers against your clothed clit and rubbing it through the fabric as kindaichi and kunimi stare hungrily.

“tōru, stop it!”

“oh, don’t act like you don’t want it.” you struggle as he spins you around, forcing you to face the two men with your back pressed to his chest. one of his large hands easily grip both your wrists and the other rubbing your pussy through your panties. it’s humiliating, how they both stare at you like you’re nothing more than a piece of meat, darkened eyes lustful and hard outlines of their cocks pressing against the tight restraints of their jeans. “you were such a good manager to them too- it’s only fair you let them watch. besides,” you shudder as he presses a kiss to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “they might pick up one or two things for when i'm not here.”

“please-” you try to turn your head to face him, pleading eyes wide. you’d been used so many times before. you’re exhausted by now. and now, there’s more of them to use you? would there be any end to this? “tōru, i-i’ll do anything else, just-” fresh tears build in your eyes as you try to wrestle his grip around your hands. it starts to feel warm between your legs, your panties growing damper. your toes are almost starting to curl in your socks as oikawa’s fingertips rub swirls on your swelling clit. “j-just not like this.”

“aw, that’s rude to our guests, y/n-chan.” you hate the feeling of his hot breath dancing on your skin between the open-mouthed kisses he presses to your neck and jaw, still damp with the tears that stream down your cheeks. “besides, you’re getting so wet. are you sure you don’t like this?”

“bet she loves it, the slut.” kindaichi scoffs, voice permeated with a groan as he palms himself through his jeans.

“oh, you bet.” oikawa smiles. his hands are forceful when they shove you onto the couch, making you groan as your back hits it harshly, but you have nowhere to run as he cages you in. his large hands grip your thighs, spreading them out with his nails piercing into the bare flesh of your thighs and you’re horribly aware of the little wet patch in the centre of your panties, clinging to your folds, when he tugs down your skirt, letting it pool at your ankles. your half-torn shirt comes off next, your bare nipples pebbling in the cold air.

“tōru-” it’s a pathetic pleading whine as you try to cover yourself up, try to push your legs together but you can’t, not with oikawa between them. “don’t want to.” it’s humiliating, it always has been every time you’ve been stripped bare and shared between a group of men you thought were your friends, but time has desensitised you to that. but now it’s different, it’s new yet nightmarish images flash in your mind. you had been so young then, so young and scared and feeble. and you’re falling back into that. or maybe you never left it.

“oh, don’t whine, baby.” he pouts, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

a gasp falls from your lips when he leans to your chest, his tongue flicking and swirling around your pebbled nipples, making your eyes flutter shut as you squirm below him. you don’t want the whines to fall from your lips but they’re hard to control. “she’s really sensitive here. look.” he rolls his fingers against the little buds, causing you to jerk and your toes to curl in your socks but hurt is etched all over your face, making oikawa simply laugh as he continues to flick his fingertips along your sensitive buds. “cute, right?”

“i bet she’s so wet.” sneers kunimi, his eyes flickering up from your chest to your face. through the hot tears brimming in your eyes you can clearly see the coldness he stares at you with. you’re nothing. there’s no mercy for the girl he’d respected as his senpai, his sweet manager-chan who he’d let ruffle his hair and tease him for being so lazy. you’re nothing but a mere- “slut.”

“look at her still struggling.” you whine at kindaichi’s snarl, but it bleeds out into a breathy gasp as oikawa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and lapping as he chuckles against your skin, kunimi scoffing with agreement.

“she does this a lot.” oikawa smiles when he releases your nipple with a wet pop. you feel like a little doll on display, there to be used for entertainment. and even though you’re not new to it, it still hurts all the same. more possibly. “but once you keep going,” his grip around your wrists tighten as he sits on your kicking legs, making you groan at the pain of his weight, and his other hand grabs your jaw forcefully, fingertips pressing into your cheek roughly. “she starts to like it.” the manic grin on his face sends shivers running through you that you fall frozen. all you can see is oikawa blaring in your mind like a horrible hallucination. “like the horny bitch in heat she is. she’s an insatiable cockslut.”

he prises your mouth open with his fingertips squeezing your cheeks and you flinch when he spits, a cold globule landing on your tongue. the horrible sensation makes you cringe but you’ve been conditioned, almost like a dog, that your pussy clenches.

“messy bitch.” you barely even get to process kindaichi’s words before oikawa’s shoving his fingers into your mouth, weighing down heavy on your salivating tongue. they edge towards the back of your throat, your throat tightening as you gag and you jerk under his weight, making them laugh sneeringly and stinging tears well in your eyes.  how pathetic.

“she really is.” oikawa smiles, his eyes flickering between kindaichi and kunimi. “and she’s good with her mouth too. because she’s a good little slut, aren’t you?” he nods his head slowly, almost like he’s urging a toddler to speak and you can only glower at him through your tears with his fingers forced in your mouth. “go on, say it.” kunimi and kindaichi watch with keen interest, horrible smirks plastered on their faces and you can clearly see the way they’re palming themselves so eagerly. how is it all the men you’d trusted, the same men you considered good enough to be family, were all so depraved?

“y/n-chan…” you try to force the humiliating words out but  it’s pathetic with drool bubbling from the corners of your lips, making you slobber all over oikawa’s hand and your own chin. your chest wrenches with the deep grunt kindaichi releases, the buckle of his belt clicking and a fresh wave of hot tears arise in your eyes again. this is embarrassing. worse than embarrassing.

“look at her crying.” says kunimi with a twisted smile on his face. “cry some more, bitch.” and you feel pathetic when you do, your face crumpling as hot tears run down your cheeks, your sobs muffled by oikawa’s fingers in your mouth. he groans as he slowly rocks his hips into you, grinding his erection against your body whilst kindaichi slowly strokes his cock.

“she looks pretty when she cries, right?” oikawa smiles.

you gasp for air, your throat feeling tight, when he finally rips his fingers from your mouth. strings of saliva break and splatter over your messy chin and he coos at the drool glistening off his fingers.

“messy girl. but it works as the best lube for your sloppy pussy, doesn’t it?” he releases your wrists and immediately you bury your sobbing face into your trembling hands, the tears running into the drool as oikawa spreads your legs wider.

“tōru, please- this is enough.”

“we’ve not even started yet, stupid bitch.” kindaichi growl cuts through harshly and you flinch when he grabs your hands, yanking it towards his cock. “just shut up and take it.” you recoil at the sight of his dick, slapped against his clothed stomach. he’s thick, the bulbous head leaking beads of precum and the prominent veins lacing along, but you don’t have a choice when his strength easily overpowers yours, grabbing your hand and spitting into the palm of it. his saliva feels horrible on your skin but it’s surely worse when he forces your fingers around his length.

“you’re a natural, kindaichi.” laughs oikawa. “do you like that, y/n-chan? do you like his cock in your hand?” you hate it. you hate the warm weight you’re forced to squeeze as kindaichi exhales heavily- but you barely get to cry out any protest before oikawa shoves his fingers into you.

it burns- three fingers already stretching you out with sharp scissoring motions that makes you gasp, your hand tightening around kindaichi’s cock and you hate the moan it draws out for him. oikawa isn’t usually like this- he’s rougher with his sharp fingerfucks against your spongy walls, your saliva mixing with the squelching wetness that fills the room.

“oh, she’s so tight just around my fingers.” oikawa hums. “just imagine how tight you’ll be around my cock.”

“and so wet too.” kunimi’s eyes are widened slightly as he watches how your pussy sucks in oikawa’s fingers, drenched in a thick sheen of your glistening slick. “fuck.” he groans under the sound of his zipper being undone and you cringe as you see him pull out his cock from the corner of your eye. it’s too much- warm pleasure begins to swirl in you, your toes curling at the rush as the pressure builds in the pit of your stomach, oikawa’s hips grinding his hard cock into your leg, kindaichi forcing you to stroke his length and kunimi jacking off right by your face. it’s horrible. it’s suffocating and you feel like you’re drowning-

a heavy moan falls from your lips and your hips jerk at the sudden hot flash of pleasure that rushes through you. a bright grin spreads across oikawa’s lips as his fingers stutter, and then he does it again. and again. his fingers rub against that sensitive spot that has the pleasure surging so much faster through you. your moans are harder to hold back, even though you hate them, but wetness drools from your cunt so much more.

“she likes that.” oikawa chuckles. “didn’t you say you didn’t want this? now look at you, soaking my hand and moaning like a whore.” you groan as he puckers his lips, spitting directly onto your glistening folds as slick dribbles down between your spread thighs.

“her cunt is so messy.” kindaichi murmurs.

“yeah.” oikawa exhales. “it’s this spot right here when you curl your fingers. it’ll make her cum so hard, just like a dumb whore she is. won’t it?” his voice sounds distant but his mocking tone is harsh as blood pounds in your ears and pleasure builds higher and higher. your skin feels hot and you’re so wet, walls gripping his fingers tighter. “you’re going to cum, right? cum now.”

your orgasm rushes through you, heavy and forceful as a string of moans fall from your lips. wetness gushes from your cunt, soaking oikawa’s hand in your release as your hips buck up into his hand, your own tightening around kindaichi’s cock. he and kunimi stare hungrily, entranced by the strings of slick that cling to oikawa’s fingers as he smiles proudly.

“wasn’t that nice?” you feel so fucked out. your mind is cloudy, blood pounding and heart racing as you stare at oikawa, dazed and breathless.

“she’s so fucked out.” kindaichi says and you don’t even flinch as he taps your cheek harshly, his fingertips stinging against your hot skin. “already?” oikawa hums in response as he unbuckles his belt, a happy smile painted on his face.

“oh yeah. it makes her a whole lot better to fuck when she’s a dumb, fucked out slut.”

he groans as his wet fingers close around his cock, spreading the slick over the veiny skin as his head falls back. he strokes himself slowly, squeezing the head and  chuckling at the precum that oozes from the flushed slit.

“oh, this cunt is going to feel so good.” his cock is heavy as he slaps it against your swollen clit, making you jerk with the sensitivity but his hand pins your hip in place with a bruising grip as he slides his cock into your wet hole. with the amount of wetness pooling below you the sting is minimal but you hate his deep, pleasured groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as your walls cling to his length.

“t-tōru-” his name falls softly from your lips and you want to push away at his hips, stop him from filling you up any further with his thick cock as the sensitivity makes you shudder. “t-too big.”

“take it, y/n-chan.” he grunts through gritted teeth. his hips are sharper as he pushes into you, making you gasp as it takes.

“that’s what you’re here for.” kunimi hisses. “you’re just a cockslut.” you flinch at his words, your face crumpling as tears stain your cheeks once more but this time it makes oikawa groan louder, his hands circling your throat as he bottoms out in you.

“oh, you look so pretty when you cry.” you hate the feeling of his wet tongue on your cheeks, lapping at your tears with his fingers around your throat, but it ends quickly when he quickly pulls away, frowning at kunimi. “you can use her hand, you know.”

the younger man doesn’t hesitate to snatch your hand, dragging it towards his cock and you shudder as he licks your clammy hand, his wet saliva coating your skin before he forces it around the base of his cock. he’s thicker than kindaichi, longer too, and a deep breathy moan escapes him as he forces your hand along his length, just like kindaichi.

“now watch.”

a cry escapes you and your head fall back as oikawa starts to pound into you. he’s rough and fast, cockhead almost slamming against your cervix and hipbones snapping into yours.

“h-hurts. please.”

“i said take it.” oikawa’s voice is a deep, primal growl, rumbling deep from his throat as his fingers tighten around your neck, squeezing the air out of you. your walls clench tighter, body tensing but it just seems to make it hurt more as your eyes clench shut, pain pulsating through you as he pounds into your cunt for his own pleasure. “or cry. i don’t care, it just turns me on more. right, guys?” a breathy laugh, half a moan, falls from his lips as kunimi and kindaichi chuckle in agreement.

“she looks like such a slut right now.” the latter breathes. his hips buck up into your hand faster as he watches oikawa’s cock drive into your cunt. “getting railed with two dicks in her hands.”

“well, she’s taken more than this.” oikawa smiles. “you know back when we were in third year, we could pull her into the locker room before a game and she’d jack all four of us off. a real cumdump.” he taps your cheek mockingly as you glower through your tears whilst kunimi and kindaichi both moan at the lewd idea, their hands around yours forcing you to pump their throbbing cocks faster.

“when we get her, i’m gonna ruin her.”

oikawa laughs at the idea, releasing your throat to cup your face as he continues to drive his cock into you. your wetness drools all over his length, squelching lewdly as he smiles sadistically.

“pretty when you’re get fucked, aren’t you?’ his sweet lips press against the corners of your mouth, soft and tender. but the palm that strikes your cheek moments after isn’t- your head swinging limply to the side with your tender skin burning. “she likes it rough, you know? anything goes really”

“oh yeah? this too?” your scalp burns when kindaichi tugs you and you flinch when he grips the base of his cock, slapping the warm weight against your wet lips and cheek. and you hate how it makes oikawa and kunimi groan, the former fucking you faster whilst the latter bucks his hips up into your hole, forcing your fingers into a hole for him to fuck his cock in.

“oh, i think she likes that, kindaichi. she’s squeezing so much tighter.” oikawa laughs as he finds your clit, swirling it slowly as he tugs your face back to him. you can tell he’s taking you in carefully with his sadistically gleaming eyes- he likes seeing your wrecked makeup, your tears and drool, the hurt and pain. “do you want to cum? i’ll make you cum now, baby. you’ve been so good for us tonight after all.”

it used to be a trap. he’s said it plenty of times before- but it didn’t stop until he wants it to. or iwaizumi, or whoever the fuck is using you.

so you have to take it- you take oikawa’s cock pounding into your tight hole, him spitting onto your drooling cunt and swirling your thumb whilst kindaichi and kunimi use your hands, bucking their hips up into your fingers. you don’t know how many times you cum, time blurring but you’re exhausted and your throbbing cunt aches as oikawa’s thrusts become sloppy, his fingers squeezing around your throat again.

“i’m going to cum.” he groans. “going to cum in this tight little cunt. oh, you’re going to take it, won’t you? you’ll take my cum just like the perfect little cumdump-” he breaks off with a loud string of moans, cock twitching and warm spurts shoot into your cunt, flooding your warm walls. and kindaichi and kunimi aren’t far behind- their cocks hang in your face as they jack off with fast pumps, deep moans and breathy swears falling from their lips as you’re forced to watch them till hot ropes of sticky cum shoot from the flushed slits, splattering all over you. it’s everywhere- clinging to the skin of your chest, your tear-stained face, your hair whilst oikawa’s loads drips from your abused hole.

“what a fucking mess she looks.” kindaichi mutters. he looks disgusted.

“a proper cumslut.” oikawa just simply laughs, brown eyes crinkling with sheer amusement.

“well, at least you guys know how to have a fun time so make sure you show her that next week. i’ll be angry at you kouhais if they don’t.”

[xmint-conditionx]

tongue tied | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader, f2l

w/c: 3.5k

summary: you've been best friends with yoongi for almost a decade, and you're hopelessly in love with him. he's the most important person in your life, and you don't want to mess that up, so you can never be anything more... right?

written as a response to a request from the old blog -- the requestor was @yoongi--enthusiast; thanks again for your request, i loved doing it!!! "I had an idea... something based off of the song “tongue tied” with yoongi. I feel like it would be super soft with soft smut... I just think it would be nice to read so can you please wright it 🥺👉👈"

tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, outdoor sex, overall a little angsty but super cute too

a/n: i did not know that there was a song called tongue tied by marshmello before i wrote this so... i hope the person who requested this didn’t mean that song because I wrote this drabble over the grouplove song lmaooo but anyway, here goes! thanks luv, enjoy! also reposted from the old blog!!

Yoongi’s laugh is so beautiful. It’s rare, so when you see it, you soak up everything you can about it. The way his eyes crinkle up into crescent moons, the way his lips curl back putting his gummy smile on bright display. You can swear you see his eyes sparkle.

You are in love with him. You are in love with your best friend.

He makes loving him such an easy thing to do; bringing you into his inner world, showing you the sweet and warm center he conceals from everyone else. The way he looks at you, the way he says your name, the way he pouts when he wants a back scratch, all of those little things that make him who he is only deepen your infatuation with him.

You’re with him again this Friday night, making the drive to Bom’s house. It’s been a long week for the both of you; he’s been wrapped up in producing a track and you’ve been nose deep in college textbooks. His track is completed, and your exams are over. It’s safe to say that you both could use a good break.

It’s the end of the spring semester and the weather is going to be gorgeous tonight. The racing summer breeze coming through the open car windows is exhilarating. The sun is setting, and the warm evening light on Yoongi’s dewy skin makes him appear absolutely radiant as he navigates the highway.

You’re just listening to fun little summer jams as you speed off toward the city’s suburbs. Ones with funky little basslines that are easy to groove and sing along to. Ones that make you shout and laugh into the rushing wind. Ones that make you drink in the moment you’re having with Yoongi; ones that make you soak up all of his joy.

And when he steals a sly look your way, one hand still on the top of the steering wheel, you can swear your heart stops.

You’ve loved him as long as you can remember really knowing him. Since you were both 12, bonding over games of tag and basketball and the spilling of secrets to each other. You’d sit beneath the big tree in his backyard and share the snacks you’d bought at the corner store. He’d always let you have the last chocolate.

The only secret you’ve ever kept from Yoongi is the matter of your infatuation, and you are pretty resolute in keeping it that way.

He is the single most important person in your life. He had been there with you through it all; when your parents split up at 13, when your dad got you your first car at 15, when your long time boyfriend cheated on you at 16, when your dream college denied you at 17, when you got a full ride scholarship to a smaller university outside of the city right after that, when you were drugged at a house party at 20, when you were diagnosed with depression at 21, and when you were accepted into your masters program at 22.

You needed him, and because of that, you could never tell him.

You pull into the gates that surround Bom’s neighborhood. Her parents are pretty wealthy, so they live on a golf course. As you pull up into the driveway, you see some other students milling about, catching Frisbee. There’s Eunha, Ireum, Ji-Ah, and Miyeun that you recognize from some of your classes, but there are a few more that you’ve never met.

After a few rounds of drinks and a few lost games of flip cup, you all head outside to the back patio with all of your schoolwork from the year. Bom turns on the bluetooth speaker and sets it on the railing. You take in the night air and gaze up at the sky, wishing there was a shooting star to wish upon.

“Alright, everyone,” Bom begins, “essays and lab reports first, then tests, then miscellaneous homework.” Yoongi helps you dig through your stack to fish out the cursed papers. You all toss the stapled packages into the fire pit, one by one, each hitting with a soft thud. Once everyone has thrown their woes into the pit, Bom tops it with actual firewood and unceremoniously sets the whole lot of it on fire. You gaze into the center of the flame, watching your entire year catch fire. All the hours you spent doing that research project, all the disappointment when your group members wouldn’t follow through. Gone, like it never existed.

Yoongi’s holding your hand in his, and he’s busy drawing little circles with his thumb on your palm. Your head rests soundly on his shoulder, and you sigh into him, comfortable in where you are. The whole group piles in more papers, as you lament about the shitty professors and the shitty group projects and the shitty caf’ food and the shitty grades. Yoongi turns into you and nuzzles gently on your forehead. You feel his soft lips graze your temple, breath warm on your skin, tingles rising through your body, and you’re right where you want to be. Under the moon’s gaze with the person you love.

Before long, the breeze sends a chill through you that even the fire won’t remedy. Yoongi feels your shiver and unceremoniously removes his hoodie and puts it on over you, pulling up the hood and kissing your forehead. You always love when you wear his jackets; they surround you in his warmth, his smell. A smile plays across your lips until you notice Yoongi’s goosebumps.

“Hey,” you pout, “I don't wanna wear this if you’re gonna be cold.”

“I don’t wanna wear it if you’re gonna be cold,” he snaps back, smiling.

“Here,” you say, standing up from your deck chair. You take the step to get you to Yoongi’s chair, and sit in his lap. “This way we can both be warm, yeah?”

It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms firmly around you again, mumbling a “yeah, that’s fine” when you glance at him over your shoulder.

Your attention is called back to the group with Bom asks if you’re going to the Summer Romance Festival by the river next weekend. She’s been pushing you to get yourself out there more. The last time you were in a real relationship was high school, after all.

“I’d love to go; I hear they have the most beautiful fireworks display,” you start, “but I don’t think I will this year.”

“Well,” Bom says, “Why not?!”

“Because I don’t have a date, Bom!” you say, covering your face in the sweater paws you’ve made from Yoongi’s hoodie. “I don’t think I could find one in enough time.”

“Ya, just get Yoongi to go with you! You already do everything together anyway,” Eunha quips.

You notice that the steady rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest has stopped.

“Hey, you know we’re just friends, right Yoongi?” you look to him for backup.

The man nods, looking down and to the left.

“Okay,” Ireum speaks up, “In that case, do you want to go with me?”

“Wait, what?” you say.

“Do you want to go to the Summer Romance Festival with me? As a date?”

Yoongi tenses beneath you.

“Oh, I don’t know…” you breathe, “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. We can even get dinner before we go. Not too much, though. I’ll want to get us a treat from one of the dessert stalls.” Ireum says with a soft smile.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling back at him, “Okay. We’ll go together.”

Yoongi stirs beneath you. “Hey, can you get off of me?”

“What, why?” you pout.

“I said get off.”

“Yoongi, wh--”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish before he abruptly stands up, forcing you to catch yourself. When you look back at him, he’s walking toward the French doors that lead back into the house.

“Ya! What was that about?”

He keeps walking. You storm after him and slam the door, trapping you both inside.

“Yoongi, I’m talking to you! What’s your fucking problem?”

He whirs around.

“Oh, I have a problem?”

“Well, it sure seems like it.” you spit back, hands on your hips.

“Why don’t you go talk about it with your date, huh?” he says, gesturing out the window to Ireum. “Don’t you have some details to work out? He gonna pick you up? You gonna let him hold your hand? On your nice little extra special romantic date? I guess I’ll just fuck right off and leave you two alone, yeah? That’s what you want, cause we’re just friends and all.”

“Yoongi, we… are friends! You’re my best friend!”

“Did you ever for a second think that I could want more?”

“What?!”

“I fucking love you, Y/N! Isn’t it obvious?! I’ve loved you since the 7th grade. You remember when we played spin the bottle at Ha-joon’s house? Do you remember when you kissed me?”

“Yoongi…”

“No, let me finish. Do you remember the frat party we crashed junior year? Remember when we got up onto the roof and made out until we fell asleep? And then you weren't there when I woke up so I walked back to my dorm and then we just pretended it never happened? What the fuck was that, Y/N?!”

You reach for his arm, but he backs up, flinching away from you.

“I am so in love with you it hurts!”

“Yoongi.”

“But I guess if that guy can make you happy, then whatever,” he sighs.

“Yoongi.”

“Go on your little date and have fun and I’ll just go write some more goddamn songs about you--”

“Yoongi!”

He stills, pain flashing through his eyes.

“Yoongi,” you say quietly, easing toward him, “I had no idea. I left the roof to go inside and get you some water. When I came back, you were gone. You had been drinking a lot that night… and I felt really bad because… I thought I had taken advantage of you… Ever since I first kissed you at Ha-joon’s house, I wanted to do it again. And again. And, you looked so good that night and up on the roof when you were laughing about the quarterback I just… I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I thought surely you didn’t want to actually be kissing me.”

“Why the fuck would I have kissed you back, then?”

“You were drunk, and I--” you’re cut off when he grabs your wrist.“I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you since you first kissed me,” he says, glancing down at your lips. ”I want to kiss you right now.”

You take no time in closing the distance between the two of you, your lips crashing desperately. You’ve tasted his kiss before, but this time feels different. His hands are winding through your hair, pulling you deeper into his kiss. You moan against his mouth, and he responds with his tongue teasing your lips, asking for entry. You grant it, and he explores. One of his hands holds your jaw, the other still intertwined with your hair. His tongue runs along your bottom lip before he sucks it in, drawing out a small whimper from you. Taking his hand from your jaw, he runs it down your neck and décolleté and then down over your stomach and latches it on your hip, sinking his fingers into your skin. He gives your hair a small tug, just enough to break the kiss and expose your neck. He breaks off and trails kisses up your jawline and then onto your neck, speaking in between kisses.

“You have… no idea how… much I’ve… wanted to tell… you everything,” he breathes onto your neck, and you feel a heat pooling in your panties.

“Please, Yoongi…” you say as you begin to run one hand under his shirt. He stops kissing and looks up at you with the softest expression.

“What is it?” he asks as he grabs both of your hands in his, bringing one of them up to his mouth to sprinkle kisses along your fingers.

“You…” you begin and sigh, “you have no idea how much I want you.”

He stills.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, I’m sorry, I just…” he trails off, eyes getting lost in the way his jacket is draped on your figure.

Him eyeing you up doesn’t make it any better.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” you say, eyes pleading up at him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

After a beat, he sighs.

“Neither of us are waiting another minute,” he says, landing a quick peck on your lips and going across the room to the couch, grabbing the throw blanket that rests on the arm.

“Come on, I have an idea,” he says, grabbing your arm and leading you out of the front door, across the street, through someone’s back yard until you reach the top of a hill on the side of a fairway. You watch as he scans the area, holding the blanket tight. His gaze lingers on two hills near the green of whatever hole this is, where there are a few more trees and hills to block you from the sightline of those second story windows. He looks at you, eyes asking the question. You smile and nod, and that’s all he needs.

He tugs your hand and you both go running down the fairway, laughing along the way. Once you reach your spot, he quickly puts down the blanket and lays on it. You’re still standing at his feet, hands fiddling with the ends of the jacket sleeves.

He smiles up at you and holds his arms up in your direction and says, “come here, beautiful,” while doing little grabby hands.

You slowly walk up to where he’s laying and sit on top of his hips, feeling how hard he already is. His hand rests on your hip underneath the fabric of his jacket, the other holding the side of your face.

“Let me see you,” he says with a tinge of whine in his voice, and that gives you an idea.

You reach under the still zipped jacket and fiddle around. Yoongi looks up at you befuddled, the corners of his lips turning down slightly as he tries to figure out what’s going on. When your hands emerge, one is holding your strapless bra and the other is holding the halter top you had been wearing. You can’t believe you managed to unzip the back by yourself.

You throw the garments to the side, and watch as understanding hits his face. His eyes glaze over and he licks his lips, clearly shaken up by your little trick.

He carefully dips his fingers below the waistband of your shorts and eases them down. You put your weight on him and give him a few kisses as he continues to move them down your legs. Once they too have been tossed to the side, you sit back up, lips red and swollen from the kiss.

He gently reaches up to the zipper of the jacket and begins to slowly pull it down, letting the cool night air in. You feel your nipples harden at the exposure to both the night air and Yoongi’s hungry eyes. He swallows and licks his lips as he runs his eyes over every new inch of you that is revealed. Memorizing your form, your perked nipples, the way your chest rises with each anxious breath.

He reaches back up to the collar and eases one shoulder of fabric off. You move to take the rest off despite the cold, but he stills your hand with his.

“Keep it on, please. I love seeing you wear my clothes,” Yoongi says, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing them against his knuckles as you slowly grind your still covered core on his length. He groans in frustration, his pants getting tighter. You let go of his hand and run your fingers up beneath his white cotton v-neck, his ab muscles flinching under your touch. You help him remove his shirt, taking in the way his pale skin shines under the moonlight.

Seeing you look at him makes his cock twitch in his pants, and you think it’s time to provide him some relief.

You scoot back and start to undo his belt, getting low and staring up at him through your lashes. His breath hitches when you make eye contact with him, and then it starts to pick up as you undo the button and zipper. You shimmy down the denim, but leave his black boxer-briefs where they are.

You come back up to the waistband after releasing his jeans, and you take the elastic in between your teeth. You tug them down with your teeth while your hands pull them on the sides. His erection springs free, and he sucks in a fast breath when his cock meets the cool air. You take the opportunity to let your warm breath ghost over his throbbing cock, coaxing a deep groan from Yoongi. He puts his hand to your cheek, and you look up to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think I can last if you put me in your mouth, baby girl. We can do head next time,” Yoongi says, and your heart soars at the pet name. You ease back up so that you’re straddling him once more, and reflexively start to grind on him again.

“Please let me take care of you. Look how wet you are,” he says, running his fingers over your clothed slit, dipping one finger in to collect a bit of slick. He tastes his finger and says. “Yeah, we’re definitely going to need to do head next time.”

You blush at the thought of him buried between your thighs, vulgarly slurping up everything you have to give him. You clench just thinking about it, and Yoongi notices. He pulls your panties to the side, takes the head of his cock and presses it to your clit, teasing your entrance. His precum mixes with your wetness, and you can’t resist him any more. You’ve resisted him for years, and you’re done.

You slowly ease yourself down on his cock, only making it halfway down before you have to wait for you to adjust. You both look at each other; Yoongi’s jaw is set and his eyebrows are furrowed together. Your mouth drops open as you raise and lower yourself again, feeling the delicious stretch that accompanies it. You bottom out and begin setting a slow and gentle pace.

Your body is rolling steadily, moonlight creating beautiful shadows on your body as you take him in over and over. As many times as you’ve dreamed of this, you still didn’t fathom it being this good or it feeling this right.

Yoongi is everything you had imagined he would be and then some. The way he is looking up at you, the way his soft little moans escape every time you bottom out, the way his eyebrows furrow together at the sight of your dripping heat enveloping him. Perfection.

He takes his hands and trails them up the curve of your waist, stopping just below your breasts. He runs his thumbs over your nipples, making you shudder and arch your back, pushing your chest into his hands. He palms them, kneading little circles around your areolas.

You lean forward, putting your weight on him again, and he meets you eagerly with another kiss. He wraps his arms around your back, keeping himself under the jacket, and you pick up the rhythm. Yoongi scratches his nails all the way down your back. Once he gets to your ass, he cups it, squeezing gently. You place your forehead against his, and your eyes meet.

“Y/N,” he whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you look so beautiful on top of me like this. Please let me see this sight for the rest of my life.” You whimper at the praise, and pick up the pace.

“Please,” he continues, small grunts mixing in with his words, “Don’t wake up tomorrow and pretend like this never happened. Please... don’t break my heart,” he pleads.

“Not a chance, Yoon. I can never let you go. You’re everything to me. You’ve always been.”

“Baby, I am so close. Can I--”

“Come with me, Yoongi. Let’s do it together,” you say. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips and he’s thrusting up into you with an unrelenting pace. At this angle, you can feel his head graze against your cervix with each thrust, sending white spots in your vision.

You both reach your end at the same time, breaths mingling as you come down from your highs. You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat gradually slow. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head and sighs into your hair.

“So…” he begins, “do you wanna go to the festival with me?” Yoongi asks.

“Are you gonna pick me up? Let me hold your hand? Have a nice little special romantic date?” you fire back, trying your best to sound like him. You sit up on your arm, letting your hair hang over to one side, and watch the light dance in his eyes as he laughs.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I might even get us a little snack from one of the desert vendors.”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Neighbors

Summary: After breaking up with your fiancé you find yourself moving back in with your brother and his daughter just outside of the city. Marcus Moreno is his neighbor and he really does take his neighborly duties to heart. Including taking care of mowing the lawn when your brother had to leave for work for a while. 

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: yearning, sexual tension, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, way too many mentions sweat and a lawnmower

A/N: This one goes out to @mouthymandalorian​. I still have no idea how this happened but I am not complaining 😂

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog (you can add or remove yourself by clicking on the link or just ask me and I’ll add you)

The first time you met Marcus Moreno was on the day you moved into your brother's place.

It was autumn when you found yourself in front of your brother’s house. Your fiance and you had decided to end things, which left you temporarily moving into your brother’s place. At least back then you thought it would be temporary. He had bought a house outside the city a couple of years ago and was living with his daughter. He had been divorced a couple of years ago and immediately said yes when you asked him for help.

It was a beautiful and quiet neighborhood.

“And you won’t be safer anywhere but here. The leader of the heroics lives just across the street.” And as if he could hear your brother say those words he was walking over to the moving truck, offering his help. Marcus Moreno. Of course you knew who he was. The whole country probably knew. He had introduced himself, taking one of the boxes you were carrying from you, and followed your brother inside the house. He stayed for dinner that evening, your niece Tara and his daughter Missy having to work on a school project. You learned a couple of things about him that evening. Marcus and your brother were buddies and the only single men in the whole neighborhood.

“Dad is completely oblivious to all the women ogling him every time.” Missy rolled her eyes, making you chuckle and Marcus frowned.

“Nobody’s ogling me, Missy.” She just shook her head and you smiled at her as she left the room to pack her things.

“They are totally checking you out, Marcus.” Your brother teased. “Just like my sister here.” Marcus turned his head to look at you and you turned away to slap your brothers arm.

“Very funny, asshole,” you shook your head with a laugh, almost fleeing out of the kitchen.

The first weeks flew by and sooner than you thought Thanksgiving approached. You were planning on having the best Thanksgiving dinner ever, going a little bit over the top with the groceries.

“You need some help with that?” A voice behind you startled you, making you almost drop the bag full of food. Before it hit the ground someone caught it and you felt yourself blush as you looked into the warm eyes of Marcus Moreno.

“Sorry,” he smiled a little. “Didn’t want to startle you.”

You noticed him more often from that day on. Missy, his daughter, and your niece Tara were close friends.

Marcus was always nice. Always. He offered help where he could. You noticed yourself staring at him more and more and he always smiled back when he noticed you. Nothing could however prepare you for when spring came around.

You were up early going for a run. Your way of dealing with break-ups was eating your feelings and you really needed to get back in shape. With your headphones on you only noticed the unmistakable noise of the lawnmower when you were close to home. Changing to the other side of the street you caught a glimpse of Marcus outside of his house, mowing the lawn. It was still pretty early and a little chilly, yet there he was, dressed in some old jeans and a dark grey shirt, headphones in his ears, oblivious to the outside world. You slowed down, pulling out your headphones as you tried to get a better glimpse, knowing for sure that the way his arms flexed would be a picture you would be thinking about for a while. You were so focused on Marcus you almost ran into a tree, cursing to yourself. When you turned you caught his eyes and he winked, waving at you in greeting. You smiled awkwardly, waving back before you crossed the street to get back into your house, cursing to yourself until you were in the bathroom where you definitely weren’t thinking of how strong his arms would feel around your body.

The more time passed, the more you were sure Marcus Moreno was everything but oblivious to the way people looked at him. Or at least to the way you looked at him. He never made a move, but he made sure to greet you whenever he saw you, offering his help when you had something to carry. And you caught him staring at you across the dinner table more than once when he was over for dinner which seemed to happen more often now that you were cooking. He told you that he was a terrible cook and that your brother wasn’t much better and that this had been the first time since his wife died, that he and Missy were having home-cooked meals regularly.

You remembered the warm feeling that spread in your chest as he opened up to you. That had been the first time you hugged him. And he didn’t let go until you both heard someone breaking something in the living room.

In summer your brother had to leave for this job for a couple of weeks, leaving you and Tara alone. You didn’t mind. You loved her like your own child. And she was growing up so fast.

“Mr. Moreno is coming over tomorrow to take care of the garden,” Tara informed you at dinner on a Friday night.

“Oh?” You asked.

“He said you shouldn’t have to do it on your own just because Dad is gone.” She shrugged, focusing back on the TV.

“That’s nice of him.” You nodded, eating your dinner.

The aspect of Marcus Moreno spending the whole Saturday in the same place as you made it hard for you to sleep. Which was stupid cause the man was living across the street and you saw him almost every day. You were terrified of saying something dumb in front of him, mostly because you were crushing on him, hard. But he had to know that at this point.

More than once you heard Missy complain about the moms at her school when Marcus picked her up.

“The way they look at him? Ugh gross. I’m happy your Aunt is not a lovesick puppy like those moms at school.” She said one day and you chuckled.

“Because I’m a cool aunt.”

“For the most part.” Tara teased and you looked shocked at her before all three of you burst into giggles.

It was supposed to be a hot summer day. You dropped Missy and Tara off at the local outdoor pool before you made your way back home. You stopped on the way to get some groceries, intending to make some fresh lemonade today. You completely forgot about the time, cursing to yourself when you saw Marcus walking over the street as soon as you parked the car.

“Shit. Sorry. I completely forgot the time,” you said as you jumped out of the car.

“No worries. It’s not like I have a long way over here,” Marcus winked. You smiled a little, turning away from him to control your face as you made your way towards the front door.

“You sure you wanna do the lawn today? It’s supposed to be the hottest day of the week.” You asked, putting the bag full of fruits down on the kitchen counter.

“I’m sure. Nothing I can’t handle,” he smiled. You looked at each other, uncertain how to continue and you could swear you saw his eyes wander to your lips before he nodded.

“Okay. I’m gonna start before the sun is gonna melt me.” He took his glasses off to change them to the sunglasses he had brought before he turned around and walked out and into the garage. You definitely weren’t checking out his ass in his jeans until he was out the door.

Ignoring him outside at first you got into making the lemonade and some ice tea. You smiled as you saw the picture Tara and Missy send you, asking if it would be okay if they went for a sleepover at one of their friends' places. The perfect opportunity to go outside and ask Marcus. Maybe it was time to turn up the flirting.

Changing out of your Jeans shorts and Shirt you put on a light summer dress. It wasn’t short, going just over your knees but the neckline and backline were probably a little more revealing than you should be wearing outside of your home. But the front yard still technically was your home. After you changed you stopped at your window and felt yourself growing even hotter. Marcus was just below your window, his white shirt drenched with sweat, clinging to his chest, his hair wet and curling in his neck. You saw his strong tanned arms glistening with sweat as he pushed the mower and you felt your knees getting weak.

“Fuck me…” You whispered to yourself before you made your way downstairs. With a mission.

He didn’t notice you coming out of the house. Carrying two big glasses, one with lemonade, one with ice tea you made your way over to him, smiling to yourself as you caught him humming along to the song he was listening to. You tried to notice the song and were pretty sure it was “Take on me” by A-ha. He looked up when you were close, giving you a small smile as he turned off the mower and pulled out his headphones.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey. I thought you might need something to drink?” you raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe off the sweat from his forehead, giving you a glimpse of his stomach. You swallowed but didn’t look away.

“Lemonade or Ice Tea?” you asked instead, looking into his face as he straightened down his shirt.

“Ice Tea,” he answered and you handed him the glass. His fingers brushed over yours and your smile got a little wider.

“You do know that mowing the lawn in the heat of the sun will kill the lawn at some point?” You asked. He gulped down his Ice Tea, watching you intently. You didn’t hide the way you were ogling him, feeling the sweat slowly drip down between your breasts the longer you stood here in the sun. It really was a hot day.

“I’m almost finished and this isn’t my yard” He handed you the glass back with a smirk and you shook your head. “Thank you.” He smiled, you nodded and turned around to leave.

“Oh before I forget,” you turned around again, catching him staring at your back, his eyes finding yours only slowly. “Tara texted to ask if it would be okay if Missy and her slept at Nicole’s place? Her mom said it was okay, but I’m gonna check in with her.”

“Sounds okay for me. I’m gonna check in with her Mom too when I’m finished here.” He said hoarsely and you nodded.

“You wanna maybe stay for dinner? As a thank you for your hard work,” you added. He smirked. “I won’t say not to that.” He winked before he slowly pulled his shirt off. You were sure your eyes popped out of your head before you turned around and walked into the house, hearing him chuckle behind you.

You were on the phone with Nicole’s mom, leaning on the kitchen island, your head propped up on your hand when you heard the door close behind you. You looked over your shoulder, seeing Marcus enter and smile at you before you turned away again.

“I’m okay with it. Marcus just got in. If he’s okay, it would be great if you pick up their overnight bags when you pick them up from the outdoor pool.” You said.

“Great. Nicole has been dying to camp in the garden for one night, but she’s scared alone. Having Tara and Missy with her would be great.” You listened to her, but almost jumped when you felt Marcus’ hand on your lower back. His hand was warm and you closed your eyes as he leaned closer. You turned on the spot, the phone still in your hand, and looked up at him. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and was still shirtless. You were faintly aware of Nicole’s mom talking on the phone, but didn’t hear a word she was saying.

Marcus leaned with one hand on the kitchen island, his other hand coming up to take the phone out of your hand. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he talked to Nicole’s mom and you felt yourself shiver. He wasn’t touching you, yet it felt like your body was on fire with the way he was looking at you. He ended the call, putting the phone down.

“Nicole’s mom will be picking up the girls in two hours. We gotta pack some stuff for the girls until then.” He whispered, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.

“Why do I think that you are everything but oblivious to the way women look at you?” You asked him. He smiled a little. He was dirty and sweaty and you couldn’t care less with the way he was looking at you.

“I don’t care how women look at me. I do notice how you look at me though.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, slowly running down to your lip.

“And how do I look at you?” You asked.

“Like you wouldn’t say no if I kiss you right now.”

“Even as sweaty and gross as you are right now?” You teased. He chuckled.

“I can go and take a shower first…” You didn’t give him time to finish as you got on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. Surprised he dropped his hand from your face, parting from you for a second before he pulled you close to properly kiss you. It felt better than you would have ever imagined it and you sighed against his lips, your hands wanting nothing more than to run through his soft hair when you giggled, find it damp with sweat.

“Okay, this is kinda gross.” You still giggled and Marcus laughed. “But also kinda sexy,” you teased, looking at him. He smiled a little shy at you.

“I’m gonna take a shower and pack some stuff for Missy and then…”

“‘Then I’m coming over to cook dinner at your place,” you finished his sentence.

“My place?” he asked.

“I really don’t want to have sex in my brother’s house,” you grinned and he laughed.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“Good. Cause I really don’t want to have sex at your brother’s house either,” he leaned down kissing you again.

[cjsinkythoughts]

A History Lesson

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4741

Warnings: Vulgar language, I think that’s it (it’s mainly fluff like Bucky’s)

Summary: You never were fond of history...but if history gives you a man like that? Maybe you could deal with it.

A/N: Here it is! A little later than I had hoped, but my brother is visiting, it was his birthday this week, work’s been a bit hectic, and I ended up writing a little something for Bucky’s birthday on Wednesday, which I didn’t mean to. I got it done, though! First Date with our dear Cap’n Spangles! I have all the First Date ideas for the other Avengers lined up, but I think I’m gonna put this on hiatus for now. I’m gonna try focusing on my College!AU at the moment. If you guys want, I’ll share my First Date plans, though. If I find time, I’ll write the next one. If you haven’t noticed, I have a fondness for collages, so I might do what I’m doing for my College!AU Project and make collages for the other First Dates before writing them. Anyways, enough with my ramblings. Enjoy the date!

You keep checking the clock, waiting for this lecture to be done. You typically enjoy school, but history isn’t a strong suit for you. You try in history, you really do, but all the information - the dates, people, places - it’s too much. You constantly mix things up, no matter how hard you study. And you don’t really get the hype. Who cares what these dead guys did? It happened, it’s done, and it’s time to move on.

“That’s all for today! Don’t forget your papers are due on Monday! You’re dismissed!”

You let out a groan at the mention of the cursed research paper. You had stayed up for hours the previous nights working on it, but so far you have squat. The essay is on the Second World War (more specifically the differences of life between Americans and Europeans at the time), and you know you should’ve done it when it was given a week ago, but your shitty memory makes it difficult to write a paper without five million textbooks in front of you and you don’t have time to go to the library every night between work, friends, and other projects. So, you haven’t done it yet.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, you collect your things and head out of the lecture hall. You pull out your phone to text your friends, telling them you have to work on a paper tonight and you can’t meet up for dinner like you all usually do on Fridays. Deciding to take a breather before working, you start out to the bench overlooking the Potomac River, which you always sat at to relax and just…be. The scenic walk through DC and the sight of the steady river flowing besides the busy city always calms you. 

You sit there for a few moments, letting the slight breeze chill the skin that’s warmed by the sun, listening to it ruffle the trees. The blush pink blossoms that appear when Spring sings her song and chases away Winter flutter to the newly grown, bright green grass below. You enjoy all the seasons, unable to help but love the unique beauty each brings, and Spring is no exception, despite the allergies and tests she brings.

And speaking of tests…

A soft sigh passes your lips as you get out your laptop. You might as well start writing, or at least researching, that paper. You never were good at relaxing when there’s work to be done.

You’re so engrossed in getting the stupid essay done and over with that you don’t notice the jogger who pauses in his run by the very bench you are slaving away on. “Savin’ this seat for anyone?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. Go ahead.” You answer distractedly, not even looking up from your screen as the owner of the deep voice sits besides you.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, before you ruin it with a grumble and delete half the paragraph you just wrote. “That doesn’t make sense.” You change tabs to look over the information on the page you have pulled up again, only to furrow your eyebrows. You’re pretty sure the information is wrong. You may have a shitty memory, but you’re sure that the information given on this page is in contrast to the information given in the book you were reading a couple days ago.

“What’re you workin’ so hard on there, honey?”

You let out a huff, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. “Some dumb research paper for school! It’s on World War Two, and I can’t remember what’s right and what’s wrong and it’s a stupid topic anyways that my stupid teacher assigned! Who fucking cares about a hundred years ago? And how the hell am I supposed to know this? I wasn’t alive! You know what I…”

The words die on your tongue as you finally glance over at the stranger keeping you company.

Blonde hair that seems gold with the way the sun is hitting the strands, which are damp and in slight disarray due to his exercise. Bright blue eyes reflecting the sky above, hidden beneath long lashes that you’re immediately envious of. Pretty pink lips, matching the cherry blossoms on the trees surrounding you, pulling up into an amused sort of smile. The makings of a beard lining his jaw and littering his cheeks.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You just ranted about how stupid history is to Captain fucking America. You just ranted about how you have to write a dumb essay on World War Two to Captain fucking America.

Ignoring the way your body heats up, starting in your toes and climbing up your legs, chest, and neck to reach the tips of your ears, a nervous little chuckle is all you can give. You clear your throat, trying to think of how to apologize. “I guess you wouldn’t know what I mean, huh?”

What in the ever loving fuck was that? That was not an apology!

You clear your throat and try again. “I-I mean…sorry. It’s not - I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s fine, sweetheart.” The grin he shoots you makes you glad you aren’t standing up, knowing full well your knees would’ve buckled if you were. You open your mouth to apologize again, but he shakes his head before you can speak. “Really. It’s okay. I get it. I used to be a student too. And you’re right; it was a long time ago and there’s a lot of things that happened. Even I have a hard time keeping track of everything that went down.”

You merely blink at him, nodding slowly. Say something. For the love of God, please just say something. Anything! “Yeah. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning.” Really? You’re sitting besides the one and only Captain America and that’s what you decide to say?

You feel yourself slump your shoulders slightly, trying to shrink down into absolute nothingness. But even that wouldn’t work because he’s got that friend of his that could shrink and he’d find you. It seems that you were destined to be embarrassed in front of one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. Screw the universe.

Instead of teasing you or embarrassing you further, he chuckles and nods in agreement, his eyes lighting up. “You’re not the only one. My pal Clint has got the absolute worst memory. We tease him all the time for it. How he became an agent with the memory of a goldfish, I’ll never know.” You laugh at that, your muscles relaxing and your anxiety easing up.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get through college before I’m in the clear.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Uh…so, a World War Two paper, huh? Need some help? I’m kind of an expert on the topic.”

Breath hitching as he scoots closer, you swallow thickly and shrug. “I don’t want to bother you. You look like you’re in the middle of a run.” You gesture to the tight ass t-shirt hugging his torso that you’re sure is sizes too small for him and the joggers hanging off his hips.

Following your gesture, he looks down, before shaking his head. “Nah. I’ve already ran a few more miles than I was going to today.”

“Are-are you sure?”

There’s that grin again. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive him tutoring you if he keeps  giving you that adorable toothy smile. “Honest. I’ve got the rest of the day. We can go to the library if you want. Or we can stay here. Whatever works best for you. I don’t mind either way.”

You blink again, like an idiot, as you process his words. Whatever works best for you. What a gentleman. “Uhh…I was about to head to the library anyways, but I really don’t want to bother you-”

“Trust me, honey. It’d be my pleasure.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

You let out a soft laugh and nod at his insistence, starting to pack up your things. “Okay. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You stand up as he does and offer your hand.

“Steve. But I guess you figured that out.” Taking your hand, you expect him to shake it, but he squeezes it softly and brings it to his lips instead.

Clearing your throat, you tease him a bit to hide your bashfulness at his actions. “You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a slight smirk, gently dropping your hand and letting it go after another squeeze. “My momma raised nothing less.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud.”

His playful eyes go slightly more somber at that, his smirk morphing into a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Giving no reply, you smile softly and nod your head to the path. He nods back before quickly falling into step besides you, asking you more about your paper as you walk to the library.

* * * * * * * *

Giggling behind your hand to stay quiet, or at least attempt to since you both had already been berated by the librarians for being too loud, your attention is once again diverted to Steve and his stories.

It started out fine; he helped you find reliable books and told you which things were true. But not even half an hour passed before Steve told you a story about the Howling Commandos after something in a book reminded him of it. Your concentration since then has been split between your paper and Steve’s retelling of his past.

“Sorry. I keep distracting you. What’s next?”

You snicker again and shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m almost done anyways. I’ve actually written down a few things you said, if you don’t mind me using them. My professor can’t exactly argue with Captain America, now can he?”

His lips pull up and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “I guess not. Of course I don’t mind. You can quote me anytime. See?” He nudges you with his shoulder playfully. “History isn’t so bad.”

“Not when you’re telling it.” You respond earnestly, grinning up at him.

“Eh, Bucky’s always been a better storyteller than me.” He gives a little shrug and rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head at his modesty. “Well I think you do just fine. You’re the first person to get me interested in history. Hey, can you read this over for me? I just need to finalize this paragraph and do the conclusion.”

When you receive silence as an answer, you look over at the blonde with an eyebrow raised. The ocean eyes scanning over you make you a bit self conscious, so you shift slightly in your seat, making him come back from whatever thoughts overtook his mind. “Sorry. Of course I can, honey. That’s what I’m here for. Let me see.”

He gives you a few pointers on what to add and what to get rid of, before you finally finish, saving your work and closing your laptop with a huff. 

“What a mind workout. I’m sure my brain’s got abs now.”

Heads swivel towards you two as Steve guffaws, a lady a few tables down shushing him. He apologizes, still snickering. “Abs, huh?”

“I mean, not as good as yours but…” You freeze, inwardly facepalming. And you were doing so well.

He gives you a cheeky grin. “I’ve got good abs?”

“Oh don’t give me that!” You hiss out quietly. “You know you have good abs. I’m just stating facts is all.”

Another soft chuckle leaves those pretty lips and he twists in his seat to crack his back before standing to collect the books you both got out. “When’s the paper due again?”

You stand to help him, but you get a case of the butterfingers just as you go to pick the books up, making the pile tumble to the floor. “Ah shit.” Steve smiles gently at you as you huff and give him an exasperated look. “My bad.”

He snickers, bending down to help you despite having his own books to carry, like the gentleman he is. “So? Due date?”

“Monday.” You answer with a sigh, straightening up. You carefully set the books on the table to pile them better. “We should get the grade back by Friday.”

He hums, taking a few more books in those strong arms of his. “Ah, well, you’ll get a good grade. I believe in you.”

You smirk at him as you shift your bag so you could carry books under your arms. “I’m sure I will with your help, Captain.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes at your teasing manner. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Of course. I had a good time.” He sends that stunning smile your way and this time you are standing. Luckily you have a table to lean on casually instead of falling on your face. “Plus, now you’ve got a free weekend.”

“Ugh. I wish.” You shake your head. “This is my final semester before I graduate. There’s loads to do. But this makes it easier.” Heading through the aisles of the library, you catch sight of the time on a clock on the wall and your eyes widen. You’d been there for a little over three hours! “Damn! I’m sorry I took up your Friday, though. I’m sure there’s things you want to do before you have to go back to New York, huh?”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he runs a hand through his golden locks and drops the books he had in his arms on the desk for returns. “Not really. I’m here for the next couple weeks, actually. Meetings and stuff. Plus, it doesn’t even take me an hour to get here, so I can really come whenever I want.”

“That’s nice.” You follow his lead and set your books down, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I wish I could go to New York whenever I want. I’m way too poor for that.”

He chuckles again. You’ll never get tired of the sound of his laughter. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

You shrug half heartedly, not really believing him. You’re barely making it in DC. There’s no way you could make it in the Big Apple. “Sure. Someday. I’m serious, though. I’m sorry you wasted  your time with some stressed out college student instead of enjoying time with your friends.”

“I’m serious too, honey. It’s no problem; I enjoyed it. And it’s not a waste of my time. Not as long as you get a good grade.”

You laugh as the two of you head out of the building, stopping on the steps and facing each other. “How will you know if I get a good grade?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Meet me at the bench next Friday.” He finally said, his eyes sparkling. “Then we’ll see. Until then, Y/N.”

You grin, taking the large hand he offers you, firmly shaking it before he can kiss your knuckles, making him snicker. “Until then, Steve.”

* * * * * * * *

Feet pounding against the concrete, you practically jump when you spot the man already sitting at the bench. “Steve!” You shout happily, waving your paper in the air. The blonde shoots up, a brow raised in curiosity. “I got a 97!”

You come to a halt in front of him, but it’s too quick, so your clumsy feet trip over each other. Before you can fall, he catches you with ease, smiling down at you in amusement. Small pants leave your lips as sweat trickles down your spine. Where’s that breeze when you need it?

“Uhm…oops?” What the hell was that?! That was embarrassing, that’s what it was!

He chuckles, straightening you up. “You were saying?” 

With pride lifting up the corners of your mouth, you shove the paper at his chest, once again grateful that he ignored your blunderings. “97%!”

“I told you you’d be fine. And I knew it wasn’t a waste of my time.” Steve looks up from the paper to give you a toothy grin.

“Thank you again.” You take the paper he hands back to you and shove it in your bag. “I probably would’ve failed the class without this grade. Is there really nothing I can do to pay you back for your time?”

He taps his chin in faux-thought, before tilting his head innocently. “You can loan me some of your time on Sunday.”

You purse your lips, confusion written over your features. “My time? On Sunday? Oh!” You light up, figuring he just needs help with something. “Yeah, duh. Okay. What do you need help with? I can promise I’ll try my hardest, but I might not-”

“No, no. Honey, that’s not-” he laughs, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to make you stop rambling. “I’m askin’ you out.”

“Out?” You pause, registering what that meant. “Like…on a date?” Is he serious? There’s no way he wants to go on a date with you. You pretty much called his life story boring, to his face, and then made him spend three hours on a Friday evening at the library working on a college paper with you.

He snickers with a nod. “Yes, on a date. So whaddya say, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You blurt out without thinking, before you shy back, feeling yourself heat up as you tend to do around this God of a man. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d love to. Sunday. I can do that.”

He beams adorably, like a child being allowed to buy his favorite candy bar. Or a puppy with his favorite toy. Yeah…he reminds you of a puppy. Which only makes him that much cuter.

“Awesome! Meet me here at noon. Does that work?”

You nod vigorously. “That works perfectly.”

“Perfect.” He repeats, before taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips once more.

* * * * * * * *

You’re sitting on the bench, tapping your toes nervously and checking your phone every minute. He said noon and it’s only eleven thirty. It’s a bit inconvenient, to say the least, when the place you go to relax is the place you’re meeting the person making you anxious. You could barely sleep the previous night, too many doubts lingering in your head. You seem to always be making a fool of yourself in front of him, but he was the one who asked you out, so that had to count for something.

You try not to think too hard about it, instead thinking back to last Friday in the library and how his features lifted when he told stories of his childhood and the Howling Commandos and the grin he got when he told you about the things they used to do that would get them in trouble.

“But I’m Captain America, and who’s gonna say no to this face?”

A little giggle leaves your lips as you remember his words, before you’re startled back to reality as a familiar smooth voice sounds besides you.

“Whatcha giggling at, honey?”

You whip over to see Steve grinning in amusement, leaning on the back of the bench. Your eyes drag down his figure. Another too tight t-shirt showing every ridge and curve on his torso, a jacket over his broad shoulders along with a casual pair of jeans. You had seen a meme about Steve having the proportions of a Dorito and, looking at him now, you can see how true it was. It almost makes you laugh again, but you remember what exactly is happening, and you suddenly can’t find anything funny.

“Sweetheart? You alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking and leaning his forearms against the back of the bench next to where you’re sat. “And those adorable little giggles?”

There’s that familiar flush that you’ve learned to ignore, praying to God he didn’t notice your heart skipping a beat. “Uh, I just remembered something. That’s all.”

He gives a little hum, before hopping over the back and landing besides you. “Seems like we both had the same idea. Gettin’ here early.”

“If you must know, I was just…” You shrug. “To be honest, I’m a little anxious.”

“I’m not that scary, am I?” He teases, nudging you gently.

You roll your eyes and give him a look. “I don’t think there’s a bone in your body capable of being scary. I’m just…I’m nervous I’m gonna embarrass myself…again.”

Steve shakes his head, looking at you earnestly. “You’re not gonna embarrass yourself.”

Picking at the hem of your shirt, you scoff, shaking your head. “I already have. The amount of times I’ve tripped or said something stupid or rambled, which I’m doing right now, or-”

“Honey, honey. Slow down.” The blonde chuckles. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find all of those things endearing. Now, the amount of times I’ve seen my teammates slip and fall on their faces while chasing an enemy? That’s embarrassing. Just the other day, Buck tripped on the roof of a car. Sam has it recorded.”

You let out a laugh at that and nod. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all insecure on you-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Steve insists. “Now,” he stands and offers his hand. “Let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

You look at his hand before looking up at him and taking it without hesitation. “Okay.”

* * * * * * * *

After rounds of questions during lunch, Steve took you around the Smithsonian to all the different museums. Just like history, you had never been overly fond of museums. You typically walked around for a little bit, never really reading the information, only enjoying the pictures.

It’s different with Steve. Just like how it was different writing the research paper with him. He makes everything interesting, telling you his own facts and stories. Especially once you get to his exhibit in the Air and Space Museum.

Once you arrive, he puts on a hat and ducks his head, trying not to bring attention to you both while on a date. You tease him a bit, swinging your linked hands as you walk in with a cheeky grin. He nudges you with his elbow, his own smile painted on his lips.

You can’t help but listen and hold onto his every word, as if you’d die if you forget a single sentence. The light in his eyes as he talks about his past, showing you the pictures and plaques excitedly. Like a child during show and tell, he’s practically skipping from exhibit to exhibit, dragging you along behind him.

Giggling at his elation, you eagerly, and with no resistance, let him take you through his story. “They keep updating it.” He explains as you leave the area with World War Two and the Howling Commandos, entering through a corridor with modern pictures of him and the Avengers. “Every couple years or so they call me and tell me they’re adding another thing.”

“Doesn’t that get annoying?” You wonder, reading a wall about the Battle of Manhattan with interest. “Your whole life being put on display for everyone to see?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve never really minded. They don’t put in personal things, so it’s not too bad. You could learn more from the internet about me.”

You nod, knowing how true that really was. “You’ve got a point. Still. It must be a bit weird being a national icon.”

“I’ll admit, people stopping me on the street is getting a little old. I used to wish to be someone who changed the world. Now I have and sometimes I wish I could be normal. But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. Who I am. Not if people can learn from it. Not if I can keep people safe.”

Turning away from the wall to glance at Steve, who has his hands in his pockets studying the wall, you smile and tilt your head. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

He turns to you, his lips pulling up. “That’s all I hope for.” His voice is quiet, earnest, before it becomes lighter as he gestures back to the wall. “You know the first thing we did after winning was go out for shawarma? It was Tony’s idea.”

“No way.” You laugh. “All six of you?”

“Yeah! We go there for every Battle of Manhattan Anniversary, now. I’ll take you some time. It’s a nice place.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smirks at your teasing tone. “Absolutely.”

* * * * * * * *

After your museum hopping, he takes you to Arlington Cemetery to show you a few friends and fellow soldiers he met all those years ago. It’s such a personal intimate thing that he shares, and you think you shouldn’t be there to witness it, but he’s quick to reassure you that’s not the case. That he wouldn’t have anyone else by his side, listening to his stories.

By the time you get back to the city, it’s getting dark, so you two head out for dinner before Steve takes you up the Washington Monument to look at the city lights. He makes sure you have the top all to yourselves; there’s perks of being an Avenger - especially one of the leaders.

“Alright, alright.” Leaning on the rail, you turn to him with a smile. “So maybe history isn’t as bad as I originally thought.”

“Yeah? I convinced you, did I?”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Maybe a bit. But only when you’re telling it. You think there’s any way you could come to history with me?” You joke with a laugh, feeling yourself flush at the chuckle and grin he gives you.

“I wish I could, honey.” He spoke softly, running a thumb over your knuckles. “Unfortunately, I’ve got work to do. I’m heading back to New York tomorrow. I’ll be back on Friday, though. If you would want to-”

You beam and nod energetically. “I’d love to go out again, Stevie.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he beams back. “Fantastic.” He looks back out to the window and gives a little sigh. “It’s gettin’ late and you’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I should probably get going. Do you, I mean, would you mind walking me home?” You blink up at him through your lashes hopefully.

“Of course!” His eyes - which you found throughout the day weren’t entirely blue, but had some green hues to them - lit up as you two start towards the elevator. He tucks you under his strong arm, pulling you close. “You wanna get ice cream or something on the way?”

“You read my mind, Captain.”

* * * * * * * *

By the time you reach your door, you’ve both finished your ice cream and he’s telling yet another story while you laugh, once again swinging your linked hands. 

When it comes time to say goodbye, you can’t help but wish your hand could stay in his for a while longer. Knowing that you’d be saying farewell, you hold on a bit tighter. “Pick me up on Friday?”

He nods, squeezing your hand before letting it go and brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “I’ll call you later too, alright, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” You agree eagerly. “You gonna kiss me goodnight now, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles softly, before gently grabbing your chin. Using his other hand, he pulls you closer by the waist, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet and perfect, just like him, but it ends too quickly for your liking. He pulls back, nudging his nose against yours, and murmuring against your lips. “Sleep well.”

You smile, leaning your forehead against his. “Good night, Stevie.”

Stepping away, he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “G’night.”

You stop him before he could turn all the way. “Steve?” He pauses to look over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. You have a question, and you can’t help but ask it, it having been on your mind for days. “Why’d you stop your run just to sit by me?”

“And leave a beautiful dame like yourself before I could get your name? I may be a super soldier, honey, but I’m still a man. Abyssinia Friday, Y/N.”