#but i only register compliments in my brain when i feel like i should be getting them and it turns out

[ledians]

still thinking about last night on call when i told my bf (does not like fortnite) that i got 11 kills one round recently and i was like "that's pretty good isn't it?" and he half heartedly replied "yea" and i excitedly said "yay thank you!!!!" and was gonna move on

then he's silent for a second and goes "you really just accepted a 'yeah' as a good enough compliment and thanked me" and then started talking about other stuff. but i couldn't pay attention cuz i was still processing what he just said because goddamn i really did just do that didn't i. what the fuck. anyway I'm still thinking about it

[telvess]

Pizza delivery girl

higuruma hiromi x reader fic, a bit of smut content (nothing extreme, only kissing, touching and inappropriate dialogues). 🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

wc: 3,390

Big thanks to my @teatreeoilll for correct spelling and supporting me the entire time. You're the best 💕 This fic would never have been written without you!

He doesn’t even like pizza.

And yet every time he has to do overtime in the dull room he calls an office, all while working cases and overwhelming his mind to the point where he just wants to see the bed, he finds himself thinking of you - the pizza delivery girl - and wondering if he should order another damn pizza. You slip to his mind unannounced once the tiredness takes over and his brain needs stimulation.

Higuruma Hiromi never took himself for a daydreamer, but here he is - imagining scenarios that will never happen with a woman he barely knows.

Ding dong!

Hiromi feels his co-workers' eyes on him when he gets up from his desk, their gazes follow him all the way to the door. As he walks there’s a new spring in his step. It's that time of day.

He opens the door and sees you, the woman who rules his irrational side. You smile at him, freckles clear on your fair skin.

“We meet again,” Hiromi welcomes you, looking at your peach colored hoodie with a print on it that he assumes is the cover of some band’s album.

“I’m starting to think that there’s hidden reason you order from the same place almost every day,” you point out with a smirk. Hiromi likes the way your voice changed over the last few meetings - how it became partly coy and… seductive.

“Well, I'm starting to wonder what are the odds that you're always the one who delivers my orders,” he bites back.

Your smile deepens and with slight shrug you mutter, “Touché.” You hand him over the pizza. “But don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just worried about you”— and your voice lowers to a whisper as you lean closer—“a little birdie told me you’re living here, Higuruma-san.”

Hiromi enjoys the softness in your voice, but for the love of God, don't use this tone when you say his name. You straighten up with a contented smile when you notice him swallow.

“You’re looking more tired every day,” you admit.

It’s not that you're innocent in all this.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” As you nod the brown hair in your pigtail sways.

“You should take care of yourself before helping others.”

“Tough case,” he tries to shrug it off.

“Yeah, I heard.” Hiromi looks up to see genuine concern in your eyes. Before he can ask, you continue, “I read the papers. You did good job.”

Hiromi wants to say the case it’s far from over, but instead he decides not to; he accepts the compliment with a nod.

“Work goes better on a full stomach,” he says, raising the pizza box to light up the mood. You snort and bite your lower lip.

“Well I’m sure it could go even better if you relieved the pressure here and there.” You massage your shoulders and move them as if you were exhausted. You catch Hiromi a bit off guard with that.

“Well, I”—He rubs his hand over his two-day stubble—“Heh…” He smiles and can’t force himself to look you into eyes, feeling annoying heat spreading over his cheeks.

“No comeback, huh?” He hears you barely holding your laugher. Soon both of you laugh, more or less openly. For a moment Hiromi forgets he's at his office. The burden that weighed upon his mind lately suddenly becomes bearable.

“You know, I was wondering…” He scratches his cheek with a finger. His head is still full of doubts, but the timing feels so right that Hiromi gives in spontaneous impulse.

“About what?” you tilt your head.

“I—” “Excuse me, is this the defense attorney’s office?”

That’s not the right question.

For split of a second Hiromi doesn’t register the man appearing by your side. Then he notices a patch on the man's jacket with the symbol of the courier company.

“Yes, it is,” you say.

“Mr. Higuruma Hiromi?” The man asks and Hiromi confirms with a nod. His eyes are still on you, observing how you smile with what he hopes is some sort of disappointment. You shrug, then wave at him and finally turn away.

Hiromi watches over man’s shoulder how you go down the stairs. One last peek at your ass before the disappointment in his chest slowly builds up. He takes the package, closes the doors and comes back to his desk, too pensive to feel his co-worker's eyes on himself.

“Oh enough already!” Hiromi flinches at the woman's voice. It doesn’t happen often for her to be this angry, especially not at him and not about matters that aren’t work related.

“Why won’t you ask her out already?” She asks, crossing her hands over her chest.

If there’s one thing that Hiromi is grateful for, it’s definitely the ability to keep his cool in stressful situations. Professional habit.

“Why would I?” His voice is drier than when he was thanking the courier for his service.

His co-worker takes a deep breath, then asserts, “Because every time she turns her back you stare at her ass with those sad puppy eyes of yours.”

Is this how criminals feel when they speak to him through the glass windows in the visiting room? Because he definitely feels like one of them caught red-handed.

“There are no puppy eyes. And besides,” he pauses, lacking a counter-argument, “I don’t stare.” It takes one long skeptical gaze to break his façade. “Fine. But I wouldn’t call it staring.”

The co-worker raises her brows.

“Then how would you call it?”

“Admiring?” he mumbles, hoping she doesn’t hear it. His co-worker chuckles from behind her desk. He sighs as he looks at her, and puts the package and pizza box on his desk.

“I don’t think she would decline though.” It was naive of him to assume the conversation was over.

“Don't you have work to do?” He tries to separate himself from her by breaking the line of sight with a book. His tie starts to irritate him, but loosening it up means giving more opening to his co-worker so he lets it choke him.

He hears how her heels knock on the floor as she comes to his desk and lean over to reach the pizza box.

“It’s very unusual to see you like this. I’ve always thought you were a robot when it comes to your personal life,” she takes a piece of margarita.

Hiromi raises eyebrows. The book in his hands drops down.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

She shrugs.

“You know… very, hmm… economical?”

“Nice save,” he mumbles.

Economical was the last word Hiromi would have used describing his personal life. Not after wasting so much money for a food he never eats.

“So, are you going to ask her out?”

“No,” he says but sounds very disappointed. Damn courier.

“Why not?” She frown.

“It’s complicated—”

“Rubbish! You could sell me that crap at the beginning when the both of you were acting like teenagers. Now”— she snorts—“you basically flirt like normal people do on the third date!” she waves her hands, as if trying to convince an invisible witness. “Except you never went out once and it seems that the two of you would rather die than change that…”

His co-worker takes a bite and looks at him, but this time Hiromi’s facade doesn’t break that easy. He only shrugs.

“Ugh! What’s the matter with you?” she snaps at him. “Have made it a mission to complicate everything in your life?”

“Guilty,” he admits without a blink. There’s no point in denying this. “And you can’t do anything about it. We aren’t at court.”

Hiromi watches as she chew in silence.

“You can have all of it.” He moves the box towards her.

“I know,” she answers. “It isn’t the pizza that’s on your mind.” She takes the box and walks back to her desk. Hiromi knows what she's about to say before she opens her mouth, “But with that attitude you never gonna taste that in your lifespan.”

How vulgar…

Hiromi sits on the couch in his dull living room, with a glass in one hand and a remote in another. He flips through channels, staring at the TV without a hint of interest. When exactly did he become the person who comes back to home and has absolutely no idea what to do with himself? Everything feels like an empty time filler at this point.

Click, click, click…

Hiromi maintains a fast pace, his eyes on the screen, but mind barely present. Drama show, reality talk, an okonomiyaki advertisment… “Our national pizza!” Says a lady with her mouth full. Not the best marketing gimmick, he thinks. But yeah… He could go for a pizza. Today someone has interrupted his little tête-à-tête with you, but maybe it isn’t too late to fix it?

Before he can think it through, his hand reaches for the phone and opens the food app on its own. The pizzeria you work at is marked with a star as the only one in his favorites. Hiromi chooses a margarita, pays in advance, and hopes that your boss has forced you to work overtime today.

And then… what remains to be done? Just wait. But this time sitting in his dull living room doesn’t feel awfully boring. Hiromi finally finds a comfortable spot on his couch. He leans back and puts his feet up on the table, feeling strangely relaxed. As if he has found the missing piece of the puzzle. The advertising marathon has finishes and he watches the beginning of unknown romantic comedy. A pleasant drowsiness slowly befuddles him…

Knock knock!

Oh? Is it already time?

Hiromi gets up from the couch, his body feels dizzy at first but with each step towards the doors it gets more and more tense. Dozens of thoughts run through his head as his hand reaches for the door handle. Will that be you? What should he say? He haven’t thought of any opening line… Now, that’s the lawyer everybody needs, right?

Very slowly he presses down onto the handle and opens the door.

“Hello, your pizza- Oh! Hi, Higuruma-san! What a surprise!” Your expression changes from weary to genuinely happy; Hiromi feels your smile deep in his chest. “So you don’t really live in your office, huh?” You try to take a peek over his shoulder.

“I have to come here from time to time. Otherwise they will start imposing rent at my workplace,” he answers, shrugging.

Your whole chest trembles as you laugh, you have the same hoodie you had afternoon with faces of some band on it. Hiromi catches himself at staring for too long at your chest. It draws your attention.

“Do you like this band?” you ask, pulling the hoodie to stretch the fabric, which reveals a bit of your neckline.

Hiromi finally raises his eyes to meet yours.

“I don’t know them,” he says honestly and, given the cheerfulness in your eyes, you seem to be content with this answer.

“Ah, I see,” you slowly nod. “That’s not what interested you.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?”

He doesn’t feel too embarrassed when you smile like this at him. Maybe his sad puppy eyes come in handy…

“Now that I caught you red-handed I won’t feel bad telling you something like this -” You smirked, “Don’t be upset, but you don’t look like a guy who likes pizza.”

You would think, huh?

“That’s a bit judgmental,” Hiromi says with unusual sensitivity in his voice that immediately puts you in defensive mode.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry!” You raise your hand in apologetic gesture. “It’s just”—you eye him up and down—“I don’t know, I guess it’s the suit. It makes you look…”

“Pompous?” he slips watching you struggle to find the right word.

“No!” you quickly deny. Too quickly. “I mean… well, kinda.” You gave up.

“Ouch.”

Hiromi has never heard you giggle before, but he could definitely get used to it. He couldn’t explain the phenomenon that makes him seek for your reaction - any reactions, really - but the idea of closing the doors right now and not getting more out of you seemed awful.

“Do you ever take it off?” you ask pointing at his loosened tie and wrinkled dress shirt.

I could for you, he thinks to his own surprise.

“Well, I was waiting for the pizza,” he reminds.

“Right. Can’t collect your order in pyjamas.” And you laugh again, which causes a rush of heat in his belly and bellow. Cursed thoughts suddenly take him to very inappropriate places where you tell him about the band printed on your hoodie as you take it off. He wonders what color of bra you wear. The white one would suit you - in his modest opinion.

“You weren’t wrong though.” He breaks himself out of the trance. “I don’t like pizza." After all the orders he made for the past few weeks.

You blink at his words, definitely not as surprised as he thought you were going to be. In fact, your reaction tells him that you knew and have played along this entire time.

“Then why did you order so many of them?” you ask, a soft smile forming on your lips.

“I was ordering you,” he finds himself saying. The moment the first word left his lips, Hiromi felt in his guts it was a bad idea, but the rest of the sentence left his lips anyway, leaving sweet-sour flavor on the top of his tongue.

He watches your eyes widen for a second, and your lips part - then close - then open again as you try to say something back, but your mind can’t find the right words.

Well, this is it then…

A lonely “oh” slips quietly out of your mouth.

Oh?

“Well, you are my last stop today.” Your rosy cheeks rise up as you smile. “Why don’t you invite me in?”

For a moment the world stops.

“Are you sure?” The lower parts of Hiromi call him an idiot, but the lower parts have never been in charge. Biting his tongue wasn’t an option.

Sudden embarrassment takes over as you look sideways and as both of you wonder about the simple “should I or should I not?” You smile and Hiromi smiles as well.

“Do you think my boss can sue me once he finds out that I’ve made him lose a regular customer?” You break the silence. Hiromi watches at the corners of your lips twitch, then raises his eyes at yours.

“Why do you assume I won’t order any more pizza in the future?” You shrug.

“Why would you if you can just call me instead?”

“So you can have nice break at work,” he answers. This is enough to make you burst out laughing.

“I see you've thought everything through carefully.”

“I only try to keep you here as long as I can.”

You make a step towards him, standing on the threshold. Much, much, much closer than usually. Hiromi could smell your perfume, but he mostly focuses on the soft smile you give him.

“Well, can’t deny it isn’t working. Lemme in,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of his dress shirt as you speak.

Once Hiromi opens the doors wide for you to come in and you cross the threshold, letting the pizza box fall on the ground, making you giggle again. Hiromi presses you against the doors, his hands finally on your waists, fingers tightened to feel you under the fabric of hoodie.

You are the one who closes the gap between your lips. Your smell stupefies Hiromi as you kiss him without hesitation, shamelessly penetrating his mouth with your tongue. Your fingers slide right under his collar, slowly moving around his nape, tickling his skin and sending shivers down his spine. Hiromi feels dizzy from the excess of stimuli.

“Tell me about this band,” he says once you two break away to catch a breath.

“I know only one song…” you mutter, too focused on undoing buttons of his dress shirt to give the song name. “It was an accident. I spotted the hoodie on the sale. L—Liked the color. Later found out it’s them,” you babble.

The feeling of your fingers exploring his bare chest and belly is blend of disconcerting relief and irritation. He waited for this moment for so long that now, when he finally has you, the touch of fingers isn’t enough to meet his expectations.

You place a kiss on his chin but before you can reach higher, Hiromi’s mouth is on your neck. One hand wraps around your waists, pulling you closer to him, yet still not close enough in his opinion. He wishes he could absorb you. He wants to feel the heat coming from your skin and your heartbeat quickening.

The other hand finds your buttcheek and squeezes it hard. The moan that escapes your lips is like long-awaited music in his ear. Hiromi can’t help himself and bites your earlobe to get more reactions out of you. And when that stops being enough, he starts sucking your neck and giving you hickeys while his hands roam freely all over your body, finding their way under the hoodie.

Considering how your fingers have made big mess out of his haircut and how now they dig deep into his shoulders, he assumes he's doing a good job so far.

“These damn legs of yours,” he mumbles into your ear while lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

Hiromi carries you to the couch where he takes off your hoodie together with the work uniform underneath it. Your sports bra is black, and nicely molds itself to your breasts. He can see your perky nipples through the fabric at which his erection grows larger.

You pull him towards you by tugging on his tie. Very soon your bra ends up on the floor as well when Hiromi places himself above you. The way he cups his hands around your breasts, squeezing your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, puts your dirty needs to another level.

“I’ve been waited for so long to feel them,” Hiromi whispers right before your face, a hair's length away from touching your lips. His voice is so quiet you have a problem hearing him. “You’re blushing,” he notices, making you look away and mutter an embarrassed “shatap”.

“Better hurry up and suck them,” you pout at him, you have hard time talking at this point, your throat dry and voice distorted by hoarseness.

Hiromi’s smirk gets bigger.

“It’s nice to know you want it as bad as I do,” he says before leaning over.

DING DONG.

Hiromi opens his eyes. At first he doesn’t even recognize his own apartment, the view from the couch is downright unrealistic. With his swollen eyes he looks for any sign of yours presence, because even if he knows you weren’t here, his mind doesn’t want to give up. Not yet. He can’t help it, his professional tendency to hope for the best and be ready for the worst speaks through him.

But the longer he stares at his empty apartment and the longer he can’t find any part of the clothes that he just took off of you, the more and more the disappointing reality seeps through his mind.

Ding dong…

Oh, right - the doorbell. He looks at the door, then at the bulge in his pants, sighing at the bitter unfinished business. What one pizza delivery girl can do to a man who doesn’t even like pizza…

He slowly gets up, massaging his sore nape that the couch header have gave him as he approaches the door. A doubtful thought on the back on his head whispers to him that he may see you behind it - with your high-tied ponytail, a hoodie and unearthly legs - and that his dream have been prelude to the main event.

Hiromi opens the door and sees the most average looking stranger.

Yeah, he thinks, taking the pizza and mumbling thanks, life isn’t that pretty, is it? He doesn't think about covering himself or even feel embarrassed about it. There’s just pure disappointed in his heart and an annoying tightness in his boxers.

He closes the door. What a shame it wasn’t you.

there is a possibility that a second part will be written. thanks for reading!

[mariana-oconnor]

The Mazarin Stone pt 1

I have no idea who Billy is, but sure. Guest speaker number 2.

It was pleasant to Dr. Watson to find himself once more in the untidy room of the first floor in Baker Street which had been the starting-point of so many remarkable adventures.

So Billy is doing 3rd person POV where he knows Watson's feelings. Cool. coolcool.

Finally, his eyes came round to the fresh and smiling face of Billy, the young but very wise and tactful page...

Lolol. Okay Billy.

“It all seems very unchanged, Billy. You don't change, either."

Billy is an immortal! Confirmed.

"It's this case of the Crown diamond.” “What—the hundred-thousand-pound burglary?”

Ooh, diamonds.

A hundred thousand in 1903 would be over £10million today. So that's a hefty rock.

"Why, we had the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary both sitting on that very sofa. Mr. Holmes was very nice to them."

I like to think if I had the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary sitting on my sofa I would not be very nice to them. I would in fact ask them a lot of questions they did not want to answer. I might even be said to interrogate them.

But each to their own, I guess.

"I can get along with the Prime Minister, and I've nothing against the Home Secretary, who seemed a civil, obliging sort of man, but I can't stand his Lordship."

A civil, obliging sort of man? How times have changed! I guess politicians back then didn't use the word "shithole" - at least not in public.

I think you really should contemplate your life choices when one of the only compliments people give you is 'at least you're not Suella Braverman'.

I'll stop talking about current British politics now, I swear.

I didn't even mention the Prime Minister.

"I say, Billy, what is that curtain for across the window?” “Mr. Holmes had it put up there three days ago. We've got something funny behind it.”

Funny ha ha or funny peculiar?

Dr. Watson could not restrain a cry of amazement. There was a facsimile of his old friend, dressing-gown and all, the face turned three-quarters towards the window and downward, as though reading an invisible book, while the body was sunk deep in an armchair. Billy detached the head and held it in the air.

Three things:

Thing the first: This is not the first time you've seen a duplicate of Holmes, Watson. This should barely even register on your weirdometer.

Thing the second: I need a window seat like this.

Thing the third: I was not expecting that gif I just used to be so apt.

“We used something of the sort once before.”

That's what I just said. I suppose suddenly being presented with a wax effigy of your best friend might be a little surprising. But if you've seen it before, I wouldn't call it amazing. But maybe I am cynical.

"I'm expecting something this evening.” “Expecting what?” “To be murdered, Watson.”

Oh, cool. I'm glad murder scheduled an appointment.

“But why not eat?” “Because the faculties become refined when you starve them."

Super not true. Couldn't be less true. Starvation absolutely does not help you think better. Unless it's thoughts about how hungry you are. The brain in fact, eventually starts eating itself. You might have a brief period of clarity, but no.

Just no.

"I am a brain, Watson. The rest of me is a mere appendix."

"...in case it should come off, it would perhaps be as well that you should burden your memory with the name and address of the murderer. You can give it to Scotland Yard, with my love and a parting blessing."

Imagining Lestrade just getting a message saying 'Hello, I have been murdered by -------. Hopefully with this information you'll be able to catch them, but given the state of Scotland Yard, I don't hold out much hope. Love and best wishes! Sherlock Holmes!'

"You bear every sign of the busy medical man, with calls on him every hour.”

When has Watson ever in all this time cared more about his patients than anything else in the world. This man will ditch his responsibilities at the drop of a stethoscope. He does not give a flying fuck about his doctoring, Holmes. I suppose he doesn't have his very accommodating nextdoor neighbour anymore to look after his practice for him, but even so.

He took one more glance round to see that there were no witnesses, and then, on tiptoe, his thick stick half raised, he approached the silent figure.

What is the plan here? Say 'oh, Mr Policeman, sir, he was like that when I found him.' At least have an alibi... or don't have witnesses who can put you at the scene of the crime.

“I, too, wished to have some words with you, Holmes. That is why I am here. I won't deny that I intended to assault you just now.”

I get that he was caught in the act, but this is very direct. Seriously?

“If I had known, you might never—” “Have seen this humble home again."

He's not even vaguely pretending that he doesn't want to kill him. Not even the thinnest veneer of subterfuge.

"Here is the forged check in the same year on the Credit Lyonnais.” “No; you're wrong there.” “Then I am right on the others!"

This guy is just 'I'm absolutely going to kill you, but I'm not going to admit to any other crimes! Why would I do that?'

Mixed messages here, my man.

"I have Ikey Sanders, who refused to cut it up for you. Ikey has peached, and the game is up.”

Welp, he's dead.

"But if you hand it over—well, I'll compound a felony."

Holmes, this guy is clearly a danger to people. I'm not sure this is a situation in which you should just let him go. Please tell me you're bluffing here.

The Count had risen from his chair, and his hand was behind his back. Holmes held something half protruding from the pocket of his dressing-gown. “You won't die in your bed, Holmes.” “I have often had the same idea. Does it matter very much? After all, Count, your own exit is more likely to be perpendicular than horizontal. But these anticipations of the future are morbid. Why not give ourselves up to the unrestrained enjoyment of the present?”

I know they're threatening each other, but that does sound a lot like Holmes is hitting on him at the end there, right? That's not just me?

Why not give ourselves up to the unrestrained enjoyment of the present?

That's definitely a chat up line.

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. ��Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

��I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (2)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SMUT FOR THIS CHAPTER. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, mentions of illnesses, momentary fluff, bit of angst care of Bucky, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, rejection, bullying, heartbreak, character death

A/N: I couldn’t resist not posting this early. Here you go. Next ones will probably take a while coz I have to be an actual adult for a bit. 

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:2 Dark Chocolate

A few days of rest was required to recover from a super soldier's punch. The doctors had said that you were lucky Steve hadn't punched you with full strength or else you would probably have a whole cracked rib cage. You were anxious to jump back in to training, not used to being idle for very long.

You were given some painkillers at the clinic and ordered to stay there for the rest of the afternoon for monitoring. When you woke up, it was early evening and a blonde super soldier was napping on a steel chair next to your bed. He jumped when you moved to sit up, his heightened senses alarmed and disoriented for a second before he quickly switched to repeatedly apologizing to you. You laughed out loud. It was just a little ridiculous to you to see such a commanding presence in the field so charmingly boyish and adorably embarrassed.

Steve was a comforting presence but to be honest you were hoping to see Bucky. You didn't get a chance to thank him since he left immediately after the doctors had ushered you into the examination room. Once you were cleared to return to training, you caught sight of his long brunette hair and the bright smile on your face couldn't be stopped. It was the glare he pinned you with that made you halt your approach.

He was back to his disapproval of your very existence.

You had to admit that it stung. You thought that you were getting somewhere with him after he helped you. At least somewhere outside of the realm of outward disdain. And maybe you were hoping just a little bit that it could lead down the road to him feeling the same about you.

The timing was perfect when you were assigned to your first official mission with the Avengers. It was a chance to prove your worth to the team and to Bucky in particular. A chance to maybe make him see you as more than just a troublesome recruit.

You came back from the mission with your head held high and absolutely glowing with confidence at the kudos from Sam and Natasha. The great Natasha Romanoff had complimented your sniping skills, picking off enemies in her area even before she could aim her own gun at them.

The first thing you wanted to do after getting back to the Compound was to tell Bucky. You wanted to brag a little bit and maybe even thank him for the mentoring. If he hadn’t been so hard on you then you wouldn’t have pushed yourself to be at this level. You were skipping down the halls of the Compound in search for him, clutching the bullet casing from your first official Avenger kill.

FRIDAY had informed you that he was in the training area and you were bouncing on your feet with excitement. As you entered though the place was empty, the rest of the agents having retired to the mess halls. You ventured further in, trusting FRIDAY’s intel until you heard some noises coming from the adjacent armory. You smiled, he must be cleaning his guns again.

As you got closer, the noise began to get louder until you could make out what was undeniably pleasured moaning, one low and gravelly while the other more high pitched. You should have turned away, if only for the privacy of the couple who was wrapped up in their passion, but your curiosity pushed you to come closer and peak through the small crack in the door.

The brief image that you saw made you instantly draw back, a shaking hand pressed to your mouth to silence the shocked gasp. You backed away slowly, your mind struggling to process what you had just seen, then your flight response kicked in and you ran like hell out of there. The scene was burning a hole in your brain and caused your skin to grow cold. Sergeant Barnes rutting hard against a woman wrapped around his waist, his glinting eyes locked with yours, and a cocky sneer on his face.

You didn’t go to dinner that night or to the team celebration for a successful first mission. You chose instead to lay in your bunk with tears burning in your eyes and trying to erase the memory of your discovery. Of course he was already dating someone. A man of his caliber was sure to have a line-up of gorgeous eager women at his disposal. He probably had no interest in boring recruits like yourself. The woman he was throwing into bliss must be some supermodel or high ranking spy. How did you even end up deluding yourself that you could possibly catch his eye?

The rest of your roommates filtered in after a few hours, chatting away noisily about the party. Anna had come to sit on the edge of your bed and ran a comforting hand along your arm, concern clearly etched on her face.

“I’m fine. Just tired. The mission really wore me out,” you muttered with a small smile. You weren't ready to talk about it yet.

“Personally I think I had better success today than all of you,” Kim’s shrill voice cut through the good natured conversations in the room.

She wasn’t part of the group taken on the mission, claiming beforehand that she was ill. A chorus of curious why’s rang out through the group and she preened at once again being the center of attention.

“Well I just had the fuck of a lifetime from none other than Sergeant James Barnes.”

The room of women burst into chaos; squeals of disbelief, rapid fire questions on how big he was and how good of a lay was he, were they dating now or was this a fuck buddy situation. Of course Kim was more than happy to entertain each question.

You tuned all of it out, the noise turning into an annoying ringing in your ear. You turned around to face the wall as the silent tears that refused to be contained any longer fell to wet your pillow. You barely registered Anna squeezing your shoulder or the words that Kim threw your way.

“Sorry, Y/N. I guess I was just more Bucky’s type.”

You curled yourself into a tighter ball as the pain in your chest radiated across your whole body. You had assumed wrong about Bucky. It seemed that he wasn’t opposed to dating new recruits.

He was just opposed to you.

The taunting from Kim continued on and you just couldn't take it any longer. You brushed the tears away, grabbed your sweater, and marched yourself to the door. You needed to get some air. You needed to get away. Anywhere but there. You wrenched open the door and almost came crashing straight toward a solid chest. Your eyes travelled up to lock with the kind blue gaze of Captain America. You wondered why Steve was standing at the doors of your bunkers holding a pack of beer in his hand.

"Good evening, ladies," he said to the room of now suddenly speechless females. "I'm just going to borrow Y/N for a bit."

The crowd remained in shocked silence while you stared at him in confusion as he smiled sweetly down at you. He had gone looking for you when he didn't see you at the celebration after Natasha and Sam had sang your praises to him at your performance. He wanted to congratulate you and bring you a drink for a job well done.

"Come on. I know a good spot," he said, placing a hand on your back and guiding you out.

Steve brought you to the top of an observatory in the Compound. It was quiet, peaceful, and offered a great view. He cracked open a bottle for you and the conversation just flowed naturally. He kept making you laugh until your sides hurt with stories about his time as a performer in the military and all the unfortunate videos that came with it. You were crying with pure joy when he relented and re-enacted his buy military bonds act, your earlier darkened mood forgotten for the moment.

Steve felt like he did something right when your glassy eyes and defeated expression was replaced with clear amusement. Even if it was at his expense. He wouldn't ask what the reason was, but he felt happy he made you feel better.

"Thank you, Steve," you muttered before you parted ways. Somehow both of you understood that it was more than just for the drink.

You promised yourself then that you would give yourself tonight to weep over your unfortunate romantic feelings. Only for tonight. Come morning you would focus all your energy on what you actually came here to do; become an Avenger. You slept fitfully that night, the shell casing from your first mission still gripped in your hand.

You made a conscious effort after that day to limit your interactions with Bucky and Kim to polite clipped conversations. At first Bucky had been surprised at your change in attitude, your blank expression and sparse words causing a momentary guilt to flash in his eyes. You had chosen instead to spend more time with Steve and the twins, your mood obviously brighter around them.

You were sitting now in a large conference room for a briefing on the next mission with a handful of other recruits when Sam Wilson sent you out to fetch the rest of the Avengers who were running late and not responding.

"Can you get them for me, sweetheart?" he chuckled, knowing that you blushed uncontrollably each time he used a nickname on you.

FRIDAY had directed you to the private common room exclusive for their use. You were about to knock on the door when you heard your name in the middle of what sounded like a heated argument. Against your better judgement, you leaned in closer.

"I don't think Y/N's cut out to be part of this team."

Your heart dropped. The conviction in Bucky's voice was clear. It was one thing for your infatuation with him to be forcefully thrown back at your face, but for him to explicitly state to a set of people that you held at such high esteem that you were not good enough was a whole other vicious heartbreak.

Lily was wrong. This time you should have known when to quit.

You forced yourself to crack the door wider and step inside, clearing your throat to announce your presence. You didn't see the startled look on their faces or the guilty one that followed when they realized that you had heard. One look at your sad glistening eyes that refused to look up confirmed it. Natasha and Steve both threw Bucky a deadly glare.

"Sam wants you all at a briefing. I was sent to come get you."

Your voice was so small and unsteady, none of the easy happiness and optimistic determination that it usually carried. Bucky felt the shame burn through him, the guilt drowning him in an instant. You weren't supposed to hear that. He took a step towards you, instinct driving him to do anything to wipe that defeated look off your face, but a threatening look from the twins pinned him in place.

"We'll walk back with you, little star," Pietro said softly, appearing beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Wanda came on the other side, looping your arm with hers.

For the rest of the briefing, you strained with the effort of focusing on Sam while blatantly ignoring Bucky. You knew he was staring a hole at the back of your head, but you couldn't allow yourself to give him any satisfaction by looking back. You were soon assigned your tasks, you being placed on sniper duty again having performed well the last time.

It was supposed to be a run of the mill mission for intel and taking out a criminal base, but with the expectation of more hostiles so a slightly bigger team was necessary. You practically flew out of the room when you were dismissed, not giving anyone a chance to talk to you. A decision was solid in your mind now for when you got back.

This would be your last mission.

The ride on the jet to the location was spent with you cleaning your gear and checking your weapons. You were sliding a few knives in place when Bucky came in front of you holding out another set of knives for you to take.

"You know if you tilt the hilt to the left you can fit more in one holster," he said.

It was odd hearing him with almost warmth in his tone toward you. If it had happened yesterday, you probably would be celebrating this fact. You nodded at him, but didn't say a word.

"Remember to keep your head low and stay on your post. Okay, doll?"

You nodded wordlessly again. Because you made a point not to look at his face, you missed the way he was struggling to say more to you and the disheartened look when you obviously weren't going to answer him. You ignored him for the rest of the ride, choosing to focus on reviewing the intel.

As far as bad intel could go, this had to be the worst. You were perched up on a densely covered hill a good distance away from the base that the rest of the team were storming. You were picking off as many hostiles coming out of the base as quick as your hands would allow. Your fingers were starting to ache from the constant reloading, your eyes stung from the gunpowder, and your lip was already bleeding from biting down on it.

The noise in the comms was pure mayhem. Each team member trying to ask for help, for backup, for a plan. You had all come expecting a fight but not an army prepared to defend. You were certainly not expecting HYDRA.

"They have Bucky."

Three words spoken that sent a cold dread to wash over all of you. HYDRA couldn't be allowed to take Bucky. You abandoned your post without a second thought and sprinted down toward the base, pistols at the ready for anyone coming your way.

"Last location," you asked urgently as you slipped into the building shooting down two agents immediately.

"West wing. Near the last corridor," Steve grunted, clearly having a hard time on his end. "Y/N, do not engage!"

"I'm the closest one, Cap."

"I'm close too. Just a little busy," Natasha huffed. "I'll follow, Y/N. Steve, we need to get the hell out of here."

Steve had reluctantly agreed, seeing that there was no other choice. He quickly barked orders and commanded you to keep safe. You nodded although he couldn't see it as you wove through the corridors at full speed in search of your teammate. The moment you barged into that last room, your eyes found an unconscious Bucky immediately.

Seeing him in that chair horrified you; shirt ripped, bleeding in several areas, skin pale and cold with sweat, chest rising and falling far too rapidly, and eyes that were unresponsive. You were so distracted by the jarring image that you failed to notice the operatives across the room until the bullets were burning through your soft flesh.

You screamed from the pain, but raised your gun and fired back until you heard their bodies thud heavily on the floor. You clutched at your side, the amount of wet blood pouring out was alarming. You pushed your own welfare aside and hurriedly undid Bucky's restraints. It was a struggle to sit up a semi-conscious super soldier and when you took his weight on your shoulders, you collapsed to the floor at the intense pain in your arm. You hadn't realized that you had multiple shots there too.

You gritted your teeth and groaned at the effort of lifting you both up, your blood soaking through your gear as well as Bucky's. You huffed painfully with each step but you just had to get him out of there. You could have kissed Natasha square in the mouth when you saw her come barreling towards you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!" she winced at your state before taking Bucky's other side. Apparently you looked as bad as you felt. "We gotta move fast. I hear more of them coming up this way. This path is clear."

Having Natasha's help in carrying Bucky alleviated some of the burden from you and made you all move faster, but the blood loss was already starting to make your vision blurry and the adrenaline was wearing off. Through the haze, you could also hear the rapidly approaching footsteps. Soon you would be basically useless and you knew there was no way Natasha could carry you both out while fighting off a hoard of enemies.

"Natasha," you said quietly, your steps faltering.

"No. Keep going goddamn it!" Natasha cried.

She knew what you were thinking. She had assessed the situation too and come to the same miserable conclusion. You smiled sadly at her angry eyes and shaking head as you let go of your hold on Bucky. Her eyes widened further as you limped toward the doors behind you and locked them tight before raising your guns to aim right at anyone who would come through them.

She didn't miss how your hands were shaking and your shot arm could barely hold up, the way you scowled deeper in pain with each movement, or how your uniform was soaked in your own blood and slowly forming a pool at your feet. Ghastly as you looked, you turned your head and tossed her another gentle smile. You were basically going to use yourself as a human shield for them and yet you were comforting her. You were reassuring her.

"Check on my sister for me, yeah?"

Natasha wanted to insist on another plan. Anything other than leave you behind to hold off the nearing enemy units. Shouting and gunfire from the other side of the door forced her to make a decision. She cursed sharply under her breath and dragged Bucky away with her, the regret heavy on her heart for having to leave you behind.

You stepped further back and supported your weak body against the wall after Natasha had thankfully left. The enemy was trying their hardest to barge through the door, ramming into it and shooting their guns at the locks. It wouldn't be long now before they manage to breach it.

You took a moment to spare a thought for your sister. A part of you was saddened to think of her grief after she finds out that you had done the most heroic thing anyone could ever do.

Sacrifice.

Another part of you was relieved knowing that she had Jill and she wouldn't be alone in that grief. When you decided this morning that this would be your last mission, you didn't necessarily expect it to be in this way.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Natasha managed to get Bucky back to the jet where the rest of the team were all converging, still fighting off operatives chasing after them. There just didn't seem to be any end to them.

"I'm going back for Y/N!" she yelled to the team as she dropped Bucky on the floor of the jet. There was no time to be gentle, she had to hurry back to help you out.

"What do you mean? Where the hell is Y/N, Nat?" Steve shouted as he grabbed her arm.

"She stayed behind to hold off the ones chasing us so we could get out. I have to go back!"

"I will go. I can get her out," Pietro volunteered at once but he doubled over immediately from the extensive wounds on his torso.

Natasha was already sprinting back into the compound, not willing to waste another minute. She made it only a few feet before the entire facility exploded into a fiery inferno that quickly ravaged it and threw her farther back.

The entire team watched in horror as the explosions continued on several parts of the structure. The area was quickly getting engulfed by the flames and smoke. Steve had to force everyone onto the jet and bodily carry a shell shocked Natasha.

No one could have possibly survived that.

------------------------------

Natasha steadied her breath as she quietly landed on a perch high above in the rafters of a seedy warehouse. Wanda joined her seconds later, weaving her magic to better cloak them. The other twin was running a lap around the perimeter and would join them later.

She was assigned weird missions all the time. Missions that had very little to doubtful intel was common. This mission though was by far the strangest she's ever gotten. There was a very small list of vague things that were told to them; the time and location, not to intervene, to remain unseen until the target was ready, bring the target to the Compound.

She was slightly annoyed, but she complied anyway. She was curious too as the mission was given in secret to only the three of them. A million questions was speeding through her mind as she observed the activity below. It looked like a regular run of the mill drug den filled with busy workers and roving guards.

"How many, Wanda?" Natasha whispered.

"I sense more than 25 of them. All armed, but with much fear."

A gust of wind signaled the return of the other twin. He had a frown on his face and a concerned look in his eyes. "There is another one, but this one does not seem to be with them."

Natasha was starting to sincerely doubt this mission when a fast movement from the shadows caught her eye. By the way the twins perked up too, they surely had seen it. They followed the figure as it slipped through the darkness, almost losing track if they hadn't noticed that the guards were quickly dwindling in number. Natasha was growing worried, this was surely a highly skilled group of assassins. Pietro must have been mistaken. They were clean and efficient too.

All of a sudden a gunfight broke out below them. A figure completely clad in black, strolled casually out from the shadows with a pistol in each hand firing precisely at their targets. They confidently charged closer, unfazed as they greeted the gunfire. They continued to tear viciously through the crowd with a deadly mix of combat, bullets, and blades. 

The workers had drawn their weapons by now as well, but they were quickly killed off with barbaric aggression. It did not take long for the floor below to become a sea of blood and lifeless bodies. One person remained barely alive, hanging on to his middle to keep his internal organs from spilling out from the wide gash. The attacker came to him, nonchalantly stepping over decimated bodies. They couldn't hear what was exchanged from this distance, only the choked scream that followed as he was stabbed straight through the throat. His blood spurting out like a broken faucet.

Natasha had been in this profession for a while, but she has never seen this level of unrestrained violence.

One person.

One single person had cleared out a base of approximately 30 people. Natasha was growing more and more worried. Clearly this person was at the very least an enhanced and even with the twins with her, they were not prepared to face someone powered.

What kind of bloodthirsty lunatic does this?

"You can come down now."

All three of them froze in place. Looking down, the attacker was staring right at them with cloaked eyes. Reluctantly and very slowly, Wanda used her powers to float them down carefully keeping a good distance from this murderer.

From this close they could now see that they were in full military tactical gear in what was originally all matte black, but now had an explosion of dripping red. Combat boots, fitted cargo pants, a long sleeved shirt underneath a tight bulletproof vest, gloves, a loose hood over their head, and a cloth mask around the lower half of their face.

"Should have known something was up when my team mentioned seeing a really fast man."

The shivers that travelled through every expanse of skin on Natasha, was a reaction to that voice. It sounded strangely familiar yet unknown, but something in her mind was denying her from piecing it together. The moment the hood was dropped to reveal their eyes was when she spiraled into a complete icy shock. They were eyes that had haunted her for the past ten years. Haunted all of them. The only difference was that the eyes in her memories were smiling warmly.

The bloodied face mask was lowered to reveal a face they mourned, unmistakable and yet completely different. White raised scars branched out like weaving vines from the right side of the neck to just above the jaw and the ears. They were obviously old and healed but still raised and prominent, adding an even more dangerous edge to the menacing look on their face.

Your face.

"Hello, Natasha. Pietro. Wanda."

10 years after they had watched you tragically perish in a burning HYDRA facility, you stood before three of a group of people you had unknowingly tormented all these years.

The earpiece you wore crackled to life. "Blackbird to Hedwig. I have a visual. Should I shoot them?"

You smirked. There was no need for that. At least not right now.

"Hey, Blackbird. Tell Raven I'll be late for dinner. I have a reunion to get to."

------------------------------

A/N: Tell me which pairing or combination in this harem you’re most looking forward to. Smut or otherwise. I’m still rearranging scenes and working out smut. There is a long list of kinks. I need help.

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[scfrozenover]

Time to grab a cup of cocoa and find yourself a spot by the fire, because Schitt’s Creek has frozen over! According to the forecast, the freeze will last for the next 8 days, so get yourself ready for 8 days of delightful winter-themed fanworks!

Want to track what you’ve read? We have a Google Sheet for you. We’ll add each day’s reveals to it. Feel free to use the “make a copy�� function to copy the spreadsheet to your own Google Drive (or download it if you want to use different spreadsheet software), and come back each day to copy the new fics into your personal copy.

We'll also be releasing a charity bingo card on the final day of reveals, and will be sharing more information about how that will work as the days go on!

*

DAY 1 REVEALS

Weathering the Storm

[David/Patrick - E - 22,111]

David is... less than pleased to learn the team building retreat is mandatory.

He's even more annoyed when the bus that shows up to take them there looks like it should have been decommissioned in the 70s.

When he learns his roommate for the trip is the accountant who's been bothering him since he joined the company? He doesn't know how he's going to get through this.

Why couldn't Stevie have just faked a broken leg?

*

Mrs Schaeffer's Stationery & Paper Crafts

[David/Patrick - T - 9,405]

David shares a happy memory of winter in New York and Patrick plots to transplant it to Schitt's Creek.

*

On This Winter’s Night With You

[David/Patrick, Stevie & David - T - 6,618]

Stevie corrals David into Somme vulgar, drunken caroling they land at Patrick’s house. That’s all you get. :)

*

something in the way she comes gliding (makes me need to fix up my hair)

[Alexis/Twyla - T - 6,399]

Twyla’s fierce love for competitive hockey only extends to watching and rooting for the Canadiens. As a player, she’ll try hard, sure, but there’s no one in town she really wants to crush in the annual winter league.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d be willing to admit that this year is a little different.

Title borrowed from the appropriately wintry, cold, and Canadian “My Boots” by Lights.

*

Knits by Twyla

[Stevie/Twyla - T - 4,732]

"Did you ever think of selling this stuff?" She nods to the knitting in Twyla's hands instead of ordering anything.

"Oh, I don't think so," Twyla says easily with a shrug, attention still on her project. The needles in her fingers are quick with the stitches and it looks effortless. As Stevie watches, it becomes clear she is knitting a scarf with some kind of plaid pattern. She's reminded of the many scarves Twyla knit during Cabaret rehearsals and wonders if she gives them out to all the underdressed Schitt's Creeks denizens.

--

Twyla keeps gifting Stevie hand-knit winter wear.

*

I Just Want You For My Own

[Alexis/Twyla - T - 4,578]

In an extremely embarrassing turn of events, Alexis tunelessly sings "All I Want for Christmas is You" to Twyla at karaoke, and means it.

*

I'd rather cuddle you than die! That's a compliment!

[David/Patrick - M - 4,064]

Patrick opens his mouth a sliver, but his brain comes up with nothing. David’s hands rest on his biceps, dark eyes gazing intently at him. Patrick swears he saw David’s eyes flick down to his lips and back up, but before he can even consider acting on it, there’s a horrifying crack from outside and the room goes dark.

“Patrick?” David’s voice shakes, his grip like a vice where he still grasps Patrick’s arms.

“I’m here, David. We’re going to be okay. We just lost power."

-----

Two employees of Christmas World (who are totally, definitely not pining for each other) end up trapped together at the store on a snowy Christmas Eve.

*

If I Could Melt Your Heart

[David/Patrick - T - 2,357]

David had just completed the combination spin Ronnie had wanted him to work on, when he registered a low whistle from across the rink. He wobbled for a moment looking around to try to find where the unwelcome interruption had come from. David narrowed his eyes when he spotted someone at the far entrance.

*

Care (package) For Me

[David/Patrick - NR - 2,122]

He couldn't believe that Marcy, that dear kind wonderful mother-in-law of David's, had sent along a winter care package only a few days after David had been complaining to her on the phone about feeling the chill and how he disliked the winter.

*

[podfic] Frozen Fingers

[David/Patrick, Alexis & David - G - 48 min]

Forever cold, David Rose can control winter at the palm of his hands. But can the boy with the sun in his eyes melt David's frozen heart?

*

CREATORS: If your works were released today, please don't forget to update your posting date!

[genshinwriter]

Xiao Reacts to You Wearing Shorts ft. Thigh Highs (Modern!AU)

Pairing: Xiao/GN!Reader Genre: Light fluff, modern!AU Word count: 732 words Spoilers: No Warning(s): It’s implied that the reader regularly wears dresses. Clothing is genderless, but just wanted to let you know :) Summary: “It’s unfair to spring that on your boyfriend.” “My boyfriend is fun to tease.” Post date: August 14, 2021

The agreed-upon time was 6:30 PM, but Xiao had been standing next to the train station exit for 20 minutes, and the clock hadn’t even struck six yet. He even had time to go home and change, slipping on a black windbreaker to hopefully block the sudden chill that signaled the end of summer.

Some of his friends would have called him a simp. Not that he cared. He hadn’t seen you in two weeks, and very sparsely even before then. When his music career took off, he had to give up many things, make compromises. Had to move twelve stations away from where he (and you) used to live.

You were—of course—excluded from all of that.

His eyes kept on glancing sideways, hoping to catch sight of one of your many sundresses, even though it was still too early for you to show up. He looked at the sea of people in a daze, the flow of the crowd almost hypnotizing. He didn’t even register that someone was calling his name until he received a tap on the shoulder.

“Hi!” 

And there you were, beaming rays of sunshine as you always did.

“I told you ‘exit 3,’” he sighed. “Also, why are you so early?”

“I kinda lost track of all the arrows—it’s such a big place!—but I found exit 4 and I thought it was good enough. Then I saw you across the street and ran over. I’m early ‘cause I took an earlier train just in case. It’s my first time here, after all.”

He watched as you marveled at the scenery around you with googly eyes. Sure, the train station back home and its connected commercial district had a few shops and famous chain restaurants, but it was nothing like this. He had always thought that the two McDonald’s, just hundreds of meters apart, were a bit excessive.

You stepped away from him to look around the corner of a building, amazed by the rows of stores and cafés even beyond the main road. It was only then his brain registered what you were wearing.

“Oh.” The sound came out involuntarily, and he quickly covered his mouth with his sleeve. Too late. You had already looked over your shoulder to find out what caused it. He knew you had figured it out when you followed his gaze and your right eyebrow shot up.

You retraced your steps and stood beside him, making sure that he was the only one who would be able to hear what you had to say next. “Pervert.”

He choked. “I am not a—”

“I’m wearing thigh highs! You can’t see anything!”

“No, that makes it worse!”

“Oho. So you’re like that huh, Xiao?”

“Like what?!” He could almost feel his ears steaming and had a strong urge to cover them up, though he had a feeling it would result in more teasing from you. Thankfully, you decided that he had had enough torture.

“Jokes aside though…how do you think I look?”

You were wearing a flowy white blouse with tails on either side that framed your thighs well. Your shorts were a nice light blue, and both items of clothing matched the colors of the flower pin on your head. He thought you were beautiful—you had always been—and that the change in wardrobe was a welcome one. His brain was full of praises for you.

His mouth, however, refused to cooperate. “You look—You’re…You have…long legs.”

“…yes, that’s why I started dating you. Your amazing compliments made me swoon,” you deadpanned.

“It’s unfair to spring that on your boyfriend.” He should have chosen lighter clothing. The level of his embarrassment alone was a more-than-sufficient heat source.

You giggled at his reaction; it was everything you had hoped for and more. “My boyfriend is fun to tease,” you grinned. “I’m pretty hungry. Let’s eat then go to an arcade!”

Despite being unfamiliar with the place, your arm looped around his and you started dragging him around with zero hesitation. He let you do as you pleased; maybe it was guilt from not being able to spend as much time with you anymore, maybe it was infatuation, but whatever it was still led him to lending you his jacket when you started shivering, and him offering you to stay the night after both of you lost track of time in the arcade.

Note:

I never thought I would get any reader at all for any of my work. I know my writing is halfway decent at best and that there are tons of things I have to work on. Though there aren’t many of you, I hope you all know that you’re greatly appreciated! :D Have a nice day, stay safe, and I wish you luck on all future pulls <3

[booppooo]

Prompt 10 and 14 with Abby and reader please

Friends with Benefits

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader Headcannon

AN: pronouns and layout weren't specified so I'll be using an afab!reader pronouns and this will be a headcannon :)

Warnings: oral (reader receiving), unestablished relationship, swearing

Word Count: 1300

-

You and Abby had been close since Salt Lake City

So when you joined the WLF your two were practical inseparable

Both of you did everything together from training to missions to patrols

A lot of people suspected you two were secretly sleeping together because of Abby's flirtatious tendencies

She was also incredibly romantic but assured she was just being a good friend

That is if you consider finding you flowers and calling you gorgeous constantly being a good friend

You didn't mind of course, it never bothered you, if anything you always looked forward to her compliments which were always paired with a smirk and some little trinket or growth she always managed to scrounge up for you

And in return you'd always hug her tight and remind her how much you truly appreciated her, sometimes even finding coins for her :)

One time she came back from a patrol (one of the rare ones where you two weren't partnered up) with a hand made flower crown

"How the hell did you find the time to make this?"

"I have my ways." she smirked.

Then she gently set it on your head with a proud smile

But before she could step back to admire you, you took advantage of your closeness and brushed your lips over her's

At first it didn't register between you both considering your affectionate past and you both were smiling like normal

Eventually it hit you two like a ton of bricks

But neither of you moved

And the air between you two wasn't awkward just...tense

You could see how she struggled to find words or if she should speak at all, meanwhile you were debating if you should go in for a second kiss

The longer you took to think things through the more time you could spend kissing her

So you cupped her cheeks and brought her in for a proper (and long overdue) kiss

And you'll never forget how she just melted into it, her hands finding your body with ease

She kicked the door to your bunk shut and tugged at your thighs, and you happily complied by hopping into her hold with your ankles locked around her hips

With the same delicacy she had used to make the flower crown, she laid you on the bed and continued to swirl her tongue around yours

You stopped just for a moment to set the crown aside because it really was well crafted (you'd have to ask her how to make one later)

Her lips came down to your exposed neck and worked at leaving pretty purple marks against your skin while her knee had found a home between your thighs

"Fuck..." you breathed, "I've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly."

And it was true, because you never recalled a heat building between your legs so fast and aching this intensely

Abby was in the same boat because she quite literally could not keep her hands off of you, squeezing at your hips and daringly brushing her fingertips over your clothed chest

She chuckled against your collar bone as she nibbled at the taught skin because of course she'd never admit she was feeling the same way

You had had enough of the foreplay (though it was endearing and Abby was taking wonderful care of you) and sped up the process by hastily fumbling with her belt

"Jesus Y/n..." she giggled and smacked away your hands to undo her pants

The favor was returned and your pants soon joined her's on the floor

Before you knew it Abby was between your legs leaving soft kisses along your thighs and purposefully ignoring the searing warmth at your core

You groaned her name and tugged at her neat braid which only encouraged her to tease you more

Before you could begin to whine and protest she pushed aside your damped panties and her eyes lit up - you really were gorgeous

And like she was starving she started her work on you and the sudden attack had your nails digging into her scalp, her hands pressing your thighs apart

Your head lulled back as your eyes rolled back into your head, "Please don't stop."

Abby had never thought about it in a million years because you tasted immaculate and the little whimpers and whines slipping past your lips made her brain fry

Needless to say you wouldn't imagine running to anyone else for a quick fix again because Abby had stolen first place

As time went on you two talked about your interests and we're always very vocal about what you did and didn't like in the bedroom

In terms of your relationship...it was more fun staying friends but both of you knew at the end of the day you were head over heels for each other (or in each other's beds)

[chaos-burst]

questions and answers

He had meant to be rude. And it had not worked even a little bit. Eodwulf is sure that anyone else would have been offended. Hell, he’s even sure that the other members of this weird group were absolutely offended on behalf of their friend. But Eodwulf can’t say he has ever met a person like this.

There was no malice, no ill intent, no anger.

When you work with Trent you have to be aware of every little shift in the mood. The slightest twitch of an eyebrow can mean the weather is about to turn foul. Eodwulf knows what to look out for. It had been his intent to rev this weirdo up and it had backfired spectacularly.

Damn.

No meat. No booze. And balls of steel, apparently. Eodwulf had never seen anyone talk to Trent like that. And while Bren‘s—Caleb‘s—words of wanting to kill Trent outright had been more than Eodwulf would ever admit to his mentor, it somehow felt less crazily reckless than to call Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence for the Cerberus Assembly and one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, a fucking fool.

To his face. With a smile. In a complete sincere manner.

Eodwulf doesn’t want to replay the words in his head over and over again but his dumb brain has latched onto them and he can’t stop. Only this time it’s not one of Trent’s lessons that forces him to obsessively repeat something until you have internalized it to the point where you can cite it in your sleep.

No.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people.“

Eodwulf has it on repeat in his head the whole way back to the tower and it is still going when he lies down hours later to sleep.

“What are you“ had not been meant as a serious question when Eodwulf had asked it. But by the time he finally falls asleep he feels like it has become a very vital question indeed, because who or what would dare to speak to Master Trent Ikithon in a way like this with an honest smile on their face.

*

Because for some reason his thoughts have decided to betray him, Eodwulf’s brain makes his tongue and lips form the words again when they see the Mighty Nein the next time. This time, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited to dinner—Trent has very specifically not been invited, you could say he was uninvited with quite a few flowery words in a strange accent.

And as soon as Eodwulf sees Caduceus he remembers the weirdly polite scratching of a chair, the wide smile that indicates that this is a person Eodwulf possibly can not force to lose their composure through careful placed rudeness. And his mouth betrays him.

“So. What are you, really?“

Caduceus blinks mildly surprised before his unfamiliar features shift into a warm smile that has Eodwulf feel quite a lot of inappropriate things he didn’t expect to find in a place like this.

“Gardener. Maker of fine tea. A decent cook. Keeper of graves“, Caduceus lists of and he uses his long fingers to count the things that are important to him about himself.

“Very powerful cleric“, Jester chimes in from the right. She has Astrid next to her in a chair and Eodwulf is pretty sure that Jester has started to put flowers in Astrid’s hair. But surely he must be mistaken. Who in the Nine Hells are these crazy people?

“Oh, yeah. Well, that too, I suppose“, Caduceus says, his smile still warm like honeyed wine.

“Huh“, Eodwulf says because he can’t for the life of him think of something else to say. But Caduceus is yet again pulling out a chair for him so Eodwulf straightens his shoulders and sits down next to Caduceus. Across the table from him the angry one throws herself into a chair and stares at him.

There’s no fear there either, but she can be easily angered, something Eodwulf is good at. He gives her a canine smile and she holds up her middle finger.

This group is full of people with an enormous lack of self preservation.

And they are so loud.

Eodwulf almost doesn’t hear it when Caduceus turns to him to ask him a question.

“Huh?“, he says again, like a fool.

“And what are you, was what I wanted to know“, Caduceus says, his lazy grin open and honest. There is no malice in his words. He actually wants to know.

Eodwulf thinks “Murderer, wizard, protégé, spy“ but he doesn’t say any of these things. “Maker of graves“ comes to mind, but it seems like too dark of a joke to make.

“Enthusiastic about both meat and booze“, he says in the end and Caduceus laughs.

“Yeah, as are most of my friends.“

The implication these words bring is probably only in Eodwulf’s mind but it makes him swallow and look away to find Astrid’s eyes. But Astrid now has pink flowers in her hair and a look of absolute confusion on her face as Jester rattles of compliment after compliment about various of Astrid’s features.

Eodwulf can’t help but look at Bre—Caleb. And he sees that there is a soft, barely noticeable smile on his old friend’s face as he watches the scene unfold.

What am I, indeed, he thinks.

*

Trent’s orders have been clear. Get close to the group called the Mighty Nein to find out what they are working on with Lady Vess DeRogna.

Eodwulf allows himself to think that Caduceus might have been right. Maybe Master Ikithon is indeed a fool.

Because being in the presence of these people is like nothing Eodwulf has ever experienced and it makes him think, wonder, question—

“Here we are again“, Caduceus says after, yet again, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited for dinner. Eodwulf wonders if this group just wants to make it very easy to spy on them, or if they have an agenda of their own—but it’s hard to believe that there might be any coherent agenda behind anything these people do.

He has watched the buff one called Yasha try and play what looked like a harp made of bone and when the angry one, Beau, told her that she looked hot playing the harp Yasha had torn two of the strings which had led to a whole scene of apologies and various tries to fix the harp.

Jester has drawn dicks on pretty much every surface this magical mansion has and she delights in the fact that Caleb brings the dicks to life in various colors. At some point he made glowing sparkles shoot out of one of the dicks Jester had drawn and Jester had laughed as if this was the best joke she had ever witnessed.

Eodwulf notices Astrid’s eyes on Jester.

Eodwulf also notices that while there seems to be no agenda or efficiency behind anything, they are still being watched.

Beau and Fjord look at them. And Eodwulf is pretty sure Caduceus watches everything as well, but he does it without crossing his arms and glaring so much.

“Looks like it”, he answers. Caduceus offers him tea and Eodwulf’s first instinct is to decline, but then he remembers that “maker of fine tea” had been very high on the list of descriptors so he takes the cup he is offered while somewhere in the background people start screaming something that sounds like “FLUFFERNUTTER”.

Eodwulf tries the tea. He’s not a fan of tea, but this tea is absolutely delicious and he finds himself impressed.

“I believe this one comes from the Hollburns’ graves. Those remains made the tea grow quite fast, it was impressive.”

Eodwulf blinks at his tea and then at Caduceus. For a second his brain wonders if this statement should register as a threat, but it had been delivered with such honest delight and a sense of pride that Eodwulf discards that feeling.

“What?”, he asks. Caduceus points at the tea.

“Oh, well, my family grows tea on those graves we’re keeping. In case you wanted to ask me again what I am. Or—hm, I think I already mentioned that I am a keeper of graves?”

Caduceus trails off and looks thoughtful and Eodwulf stares at him.

“Keeper of Graves. That make you a follower of the Matron?”, he asks.

Caduceus looks at him and smiles.

“Not quite. My family serves Melora. But we are descended from a champion of the Raven Queen.”

Eodwulf can’t help but wonder if this was some kind of weird joke. But his goddess usually isn’t one for joking.

Eodwulf considers for a second, then he pulls out the raven feather pendant from under his cloak.

Caduceus nods. “So”, he says and smiles widely. “What are you?”

Eodwulf snorts.

“For real?”, he says.

Caduceus’ smile widens.

“For real.”

*

It feels like this has become a sort of game.

“What are you?”

“Moral compass. Middle sibling. Eccentric. Amateur flute player.”

Eodwulf finds that through this question he himself posed the first time, he’s been forced to think more about himself than he feels comfortable with.

“What are you?”

“Decent chess player. Dog person. Sportsman. Only child.”, are the things he says out loud.

“Self-made orphan. Patriot. Volstrucker. Torturer.”, are the things he thinks to himself.

Eodwulf has the impression that Caduceus is somehow aware of the things he doesn’t say.

*

“So. This is the crew you’re running with now?”, Eodwulf asks Bre—Caleb one night before the Mighty Nein will leave with Vess DeRogna to who-knows-where. Neither Astrid nor Eodwulf did get very far with their planned infiltration work. Eodwulf is not even sure how hard they even tried.

It’s very easy to get swept away by the chaos and the weirdness and the complete lack of fear that the group displays when it comes to him and Astrid. They are dangerous people in a lot of ways.

The Mighty Nein are also dangerous people in a very different way. A way that Eodwulf doesn’t know anything about.

“This is my family, ja.”

He says it, just like that, without looking at Eodwulf.

Family.

The word tastes bitter in Eodwulf’s mouth as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Weird people”, he says. Caleb huffs.

“You can say that, yes. But they grow on you very quickly”, he answers quietly and with a small, fond smile that makes something inside Eodwulf ache. For a long time Eodwulf pitied Bren for breaking, for not making it, for failing, for being locked away and discarded. Now he realizes that maybe, in a very macabre sort of way, Bren becoming Caleb through failure was the better end of the bargain.

It feels blasphemous to think that.

“The pink one is especially weird”, Eodwulf finds himself saying and he takes a big swig of whiskey from his flask before handing it to Caleb.

“Ja, I noticed that you seem to have a... uh... particular kind of interest in him. And, if I may add, he in you.”

Eodwulf takes the flask back after Caleb drinks. He contemplates the different sorts of feelings inside his gut as the words sink in. Then he tucks it all away very carefully, just as he learned through many years of being in Trent’s presence.

“Still don’t know what he is”, Eodwulf says. Caleb snorts and shakes his head.

“His people are called Firbolg”, he provides.

“Not sure that’s what I mean. Not anymore, at least.”

It seems dangerous to admit that. Caleb turns his head and looks at Eodwulf with a shimmer in his eyes that Eodwulf can’t read. Many years ago he was able to read Bren like an open book, but Caleb is another book entirely.

“You deserve to have some nice things, you know. You deserve friends. A chance of—hm. A chance of peace. A chance for redemption, if you want it.”

Eodwulf gets up and tugs away his flask.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people. Pain is inconsequential, it’s love that saves them.”

Eodwulf understands the truth in these words now. Bren was broken, Caleb is being healed. Eodwulf doesn’t think that there’s anything left in him that can be saved. Or should be saved.

“Good luck on your journey tomorrow. Don’t die”, Eodwulf says and he leaves Caleb behind.

What are you, he thinks. A sentimental fool.

*

Astrid sits next to him on one of the balconies of her house and looks up at the stars above them. The Mighty Nein have been gone for six days and it has been very quiet.

They sit in silence and share a bottle of whiskey, passing it back and forth instead of words. It’s been like this for many many years that they’ve allowed themselves to just be. Today though, Astrid breaks the silence.

“I’m going to be the one who kills him.”

She says it quietly, without remorse, without indicating that this is a scandalous statement. She says it just how other people would say “I’ll go to bed soon.”.

Eodwulf stops breathing for just a moment. Then he inhales the cool night air and turns his head to look at her.

“Could kill you for treason”, he says. She looks at him and cocks her head slightly, the analyzing gaze of a murderous spy meets its equal in silence.

“I’d love to see you try”, she says. Eodwulf grins. It feels reckless.

“Don’t die”, he says, the same thing he’s said to Caleb before. Astrid regards him for a long moment and Eodwulf takes another sip. “Will you help me or try to stop me?”

Eodwulf considers this for a moment. Would he try to stop Astrid should she try to kill Trent? No. Would he help her? He doesn’t know that either.

“Can’t you just wait for Bren to do it for you?”

“I won’t lose to him again.”

Eodwulf snorts.

Always so competitive.

“That’s some fucked up shit, Astrid.”

“Shut up, Arschloch.”

Eodwulf grins before getting up to stretch. He puts his hands on the railing of Astrid’s balcony and wonders what Caleb’s new family is up to.

Making a new family never came to mind before. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale. While he contemplates the question whether he would help Astrid kill Trent Ikithon, a slow, familiar voice pops up in his head.

“Hey. Uh—Jester told me to send you an update. We’re still alive. Hope you’re good. Got  a new question for you. What will you become?”

The rustling of Astrid’s clothes as she stands up as well somehow tells him that she received a message in her head as well. She steps beside him and puts her hands on the railing next to his.

“They’re persistent”, she says quietly.

Eodwulf nods and inhales.

He doesn’t know what he will become. He didn’t even know that was a question to be asked. The path is clear. It always was.

Pain doesn’t make people.

“Not going to answer?”, she wants to know.

“Don’t have an answer yet.”

It’s unclear to him whether she means her own question or the message Caduceus just sent him.

He answers the sending spell with a simple “I don’t know.”. It takes a few minutes before another message comes in.

“That’s good. Uncertainty is good. It’s the first step in a better direction. I’m going to kill a dragon now. Wish me luck. Good night.”

“I’ll keep you posted on the answer to that question of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow”, he says and leaves Astrid behind on the balcony. Eodwulf thinks about something he hasn’t thought about in a very long time. A priestess in his Matron’s temple once told him: “Death is the only certainty in life.”.

He thinks that Caduceus would agree.

And Eodwulf hopes that the next time he sees that weird, reckless man, he’ll have an answer for him.

[warmblanketwhump]

!

!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms

It takes everything in A's power to keep their eyes open at their desk. Their head is pounding, and their vision swims and creates a sickly swirl of nauseating color. Their computer screen might as well have hieroglyphics on it, and they groan and weakly rub their eyes.

Just 4 more hours. Then it's the weekend, and you can go home and lay down for 48 hours straight.

It was a nice plan in theory. Unfortunately, their theory didn't count on three other team members deciding that today would be a good day to get sick, too. Which meant that they were currently staring at an enormous pile of paperwork that had to be done by the end of the day, and their shaking hands could barely hold a pen.

“Planning to kill an entire forest before the weekend, A?" B, another manager in their department (and endless thorn in their side) leans on the doorway, impish smile tugging at the corner of their lips. A is in no mood for it.

"Lay off, B. I'll save the trees next week." They chafe their arms and suppress a shiver, eyes searching their office for their jacket. “Why is it always so damn cold in this building?”

"You feeling alright, A?" The smile stays, but a flash of concern flits across B's face.

"Peachy. It's just chilly in here.” And in the conference room, and in the break room. And there’s only so many times you can go warm up your hands under hot water before they completely dry up and you can’t type anymore.

“Heard the flu was going around in our department. Just didn’t know if you were next on its hit list.”

A rubs their itching eyes again, aggravating the sensitive, swollen skin beneath them. “Don't you and your team have some big project to finish?"

"Deadline got pushed to next week. Figure I'd make the rounds and see if anyone else was slacking off like us."

"Stellar. Well, some of us have work to do, so if you don't mind….”

A moves to usher B out of their office, but they sway as they stand and grab the edge of their desk. A chill floods their body from head to toe, making every hair on their arms stand up, and the angles of the room suddenly don’t conform to the laws of geometry.

“A, the color of your face just went from technicolor to silent film. Seriously, sit down.”

A motions to step toward B and shove them out of their office, but their feet don’t quite get the memo. They take one stuttering step that's more like a lunge and open their mouth, but no sound comes out, and they’re falling, falling…

The last thing that registers with their brain before losing consciousness is a feeling of being caught.

When they come to, they’re horizontal on the small couch in their office. Their shoulders are draped with their own jacket, while their legs are covered with an unfamiliar blazer.

“Where….where’d you find this?” A mumbles, pulling their precious jacket tighter around their shoulders.

“Your jacket? In the break room. Where all good jackets go to die.” B’s seated at A’s desk, sleeves rolled up, making steady progress on the stack of files in front of them. “You were shaking like a leaf for a minute there, so I figured I’d contribute mine to the cause, too.”

A’s head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and they try to make sense of what they’re seeing and where things left off before they fainted. “B….I gotta get up. Those files, they need-“

“-to be taken care of by someone who doesn’t have the plague. I pulled a few willing volunteers from my team, and we should have this done in an hour or so.”

Tears prickle at the corner of A’s eyes. Of all the people they’d expect to come through for them, B had been the last person on their mind. But it's B. There has to be some ulterior motive. So they do the only thing they know how to do – shoot back.

“Calling a ceasefire on your mission to bug me to death, then?”

“A, if you were paying any attention, you’d know that was never my goal. But seeing as how you’re nearly oblivious with fever, I’ll let it slide.”

A blinked twice, slowly, information trickling like molten lava into their brain. None of this made any sense.

“What...what do you mean?”

“A, it’s not that deep.”

“But I don’t get-“

“I’m trying to be your friend.” It comes out exasperated, but A can see the slight blush of embarrassment. “All you see me as is your nemesis. And if that’s all I get, then fine. But just know I'm open to more than just fighting with you."

B stops short and turns back to their paperwork, suddenly aware that they've said more than they intended.

A’s suddenly seeing their coworker in a whole new light - all the harmless jabs become veiled compliments, all the “stolen work” that got taken off their plate right when they were stretched to the limit, and the pranks never really hurt them - just made them laugh. Their throat tightens. What had they missed all this time?

"B?" A's voice is barely above a strained whisper. B looks up again.

"Will you...take me home? After work? I don't think I can drive."

B smiles softly. "Of course I will."

"And B?"

"Rest your voice, A"

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Although if you do want to be friends, can we solidify it before I inevitably get this flu? I'm gonna need some help when that happens."

A snuggles deeper beneath the jackets, a smile tugging at their lips. "Consider it a done deal, then."

[daenqyu]

heather | kaminari denki

— gif isn’t mine !! credits go to @misakachan

pairing: kaminari x fem!reader | platonic!kirishima x fem!reader

genre: LOTS of angst, some comfort(?)

summary: kaminari had been oblivious to your feelings for years now, and at first it was okay, you didn’t mind hiding them. until you noticed the way he looked at her and suddenly, it wasn’t okay anymore.

warnings: swearing

word count: 5.6k

a/n: this is my first time writing and posting for a bnha character so i really hope you guys like it <3 i usually don’t write angst, but i couldn’t stop thinking about this and decided to write it down and i’m very happy with how it turned out.

« i still remember third of december

me in your sweater, you said it looked better

on me, than it did you, only if you knew

how much i liked you »

YOUR whole body trembled thanks to the coldness surrounding you, the snow decorating the floor and trees being a clear sign that winter had already begun in japan. you hugged your arms in a poor attempt to provide yourself some kind of heath, only to be met with the feeling of your cold hands. out of all the days you could’ve forgotten your jacket, it had to be on one of the coldest days of december. profanities fell from your lips as you tried your best to endure the pain until the bus came, but you were sure you would pass out by then. or maybe you were exaggerating.

the bus stop wasn’t that far away from your house, maybe if you ran you could get your jacket and get back on time to catch the bus. you checked your phone to see the time, a groan leaving your lips as you realized that was going to be practically impossible. if you left now, by the time you came back the bus would be long gone. dammit, why do i have to forget everything?

“well well, look who we have here.” your ears perked up as soon as you heard the male’s voice, a small smile making its way to your lips.

kaminari made his way over to you, both hands on his pockets as he returned the smile, making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. the smile didn't falter until he took note of your current state. his eyes widened with concern and his hands worked fast to take his jacket off.

“denki, what are you doing?” confusion was evident on your face, but that didn’t stop the blonde from wrapping you up in the warm material.

you blushed from the sudden proximity, his face just inches away as he finished zipping up the piece of clothing. it didn’t take long before his cologne filled your nostrils and you basked in the comfort it gave you; it smelled like home. kaminari’s smile returned to his face when he saw your body visibly relax at the newfound heath, even though goosebumps began to form on his skin by the sudden change of temperature. he could handle being cold for a few hours.

“there, now you won’t die of hypothermia.”

“but what about you?”

he shrugged, tilting his head to the side before answering, “it’s fine, it looks better on you anyways.”

you knew he probably meant it in a friendly way, but you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat at the compliment. suddenly you felt all warm inside, and it wasn’t because of the jacket. but rather the effect your best friend had on you.

right.

the smile slowly disappeared from your face, replaced with a hurt expression instead.

that’s all we are.

realization dawned upon you quickly and you scolded yourself for almost believing something so irrational and overall stupid. but as he nudged your arm with his elbow and started talking to you about a new video game that had come out that exact same day, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he did so, you allowed yourself to hold on to that fantasy a little longer. after all, dreaming didn’t hurt anyone right?

and so, you spent the whole ride to school envisioning an universe in which kaminari returned your feelings for him. an universe in which he loved you just as much as you loved him and you didn’t have to worry about anything, because at least you had him. an universe in which you didn’t have to overthink every little thing he did, wondering whether or not he actually meant it or if he was being his usual flirty self. an universe in which you were able to call him yours.

when school ended and you found yourself at the bus station once again, with kaminari next to you, you began to take off the jacket, having it worn all day and deciding it was time to give it back. but kaminari’s hands stopped you, hovering on top of yours, before you could finish unzipping it. you looked at him questioningly, trying your best to ignore the erratic beating of your heart and the electricity you felt right where your hands were touching.

“you can keep it.” his words confused you even more.

“what? no. it’s your jacket, you’ll get cold and besides it’s-”

“oh please don’t act like you don’t love wearing my clothes.” his tone was teasing, yet knowingly eyes scanned your face and you looked away, a hint of blush across your cheeks.

“whatever, but don’t expect to get it back.” kaminari laughed, his hands leaving your own and you had to hold back from taking it and interlacing your fingers together.

as you parted ways, walking in opposite directions to head back to your houses after a long day at school, you hugged yourself for the second time that day. this time, actually being able to feel warm. both inside and out.

—

« but I watch your eyes

as she walks by

what a sight for sore eyes

brighter than the blue sky

she’s got you mesmerized

while I die »

YOU and kaminari told each other everything, well at least most things. so it didn’t surprise you when he started rambling about yet another girl. don’t get me wrong, you loved him to death, but you had to admit that the boy could be quite unlucky with the ladies, much to own your luck that is. but this time was different and you both knew it. you noticed it in the way he smiled whenever he talked about her, how he was able to light up from just hearing her name, and most importantly, the way he looked at her. and you immediately knew. because it was the same way you looked at him.

she was your classmate and friend, and you could totally understand why kaminari was so smitten with her. she was funny, smart, caring, beautiful; in other words everything you weren’t. and while it’s true you knew it was bad to be envious of people, specially your friends, you simply couldn’t not wish to be her. i mean come on, not only did she have an awesome quirk you had no chance of competing against, she also had the boy you loved wrapped around her finger and she wasn’t even aware of it.

“and then when he was about to- denki, are you even listening?” he wasn’t, but you didn’t want to admit that.

“hm? oh sorry! what were you saying?” his pretty amber eyes looked at you for only a split second, before going back to admire the dark purpled haired girl.

jirou stood a few feet away from you guys, talking and laughing with sero and mina. you could feel your heart slowly breaking as you saw kaminari’s lips curl into a small smile when she briefly looked at him, waving at him in the process. and of course you didn’t miss the way she blushed.

“ah it’s nothing important anyways.”

“hey y/n, do you think i should ask jirou out?”

oh.

you were pretty certain you stopped breathing once your brain registered his words. how could he be so oblivious?! you had been friends since fucking middle school and you were supposed to believe that he never once noticed how hopelessly in love you were with him? did you not show it enough? were you that bad at displaying your love for people? or was he just ridiculously dumb? you desperately hoped it was the latter, because deep down a part of you still believed that there was a possibility for you two. that an us could be possible if you just showed him how serious you were about him.

but the rational part of you was screaming at you to stop being so damn stupid, to finally open your eyes and realize kaminari didn’t and would never reciprocate your feelings. that you were hoping for the impossible to happen, that you were preparing yourself for absolute heartbreak if you thought for a second he would choose you over her. and while you wanted nothing more than to yell at him for being so dense, for not seeing that you were right there, you simply couldn’t. so you went with the safer option.

“y-yeah, you should. i’m sure she’ll say yes.” you were able to muster a smile, and despite the lump in your throat, you feel happiness surge through you as he turns around and gives you a big smile.

“you think so? but what if she says no?”

“any girl would be lucky to have you, denki. you’re sweet, cool, and funny. what more could a girl ask for?” you were only half joking, but of course he didn’t notice.

“well if you say it like that it just sounds like you have a crush on me.” he winked at you and you swore you were about to pass out. not only because of the wink, but because of his sudden implication. (which was a fact)

“you wish,” you snort to make it seem more real, and it seems to work because kaminari’s now pouting at you. “now go get em’ tiger.”

“please don’t say that again.”

“wow okay, cold.”

he stood up, taking a deep breath before walking over to jirou, starting off with a joke as he leaned down on her desk and, as much as she tried to stifle it, a loud laugh escaped her. apparently kaminari’s charm didn’t only work on you. but oh how you wished it did because that way you would be the one getting asked out right now, not her. quite frankly, you would give anything to have him look at you the way he was looking at her right now, as if she was some mystical creature. or better yet, as if he was under some kind of love spell that made him unable to look at anyone else like that.

from the other corner of the classroom, a certain red haired guy looked at you with pity in his eyes, but also concern. he made his way to you, sitting down in kaminari’s previous spot. you sent him a, clearly fake, smile when you noticed it was none other than kirishima, one of your best friends. but he saw right through that.

“hey,” his voice was soft and low, he didn’t exactly want the whole class to know about what was going on. “are you okay?”

you gulped, but still nodded. “of course, why wouldn’t i be?” another fake smile.

“don’t give me that bullshit y/n. you don’t need to lie to me.” that was all you needed to hear before dropping the act, your smile quickly being replaced with a frown and kirishima’s heart hurt for you.

“this sucks,” you say under your breath, looking away towards their direction only to see kaminari playing with one of jirou’s earphone jacks, which obviously made the pain in your chest worsen. “i just want him to look at me the same way he looks at her,” tears began to sting at the corners of your eyes. “is that too much to ask for?” you asked no one in particular as you looked up to kirishima.

“it’s not, but you’ll be okay,” without thinking it twice, he hugged you and you didn’t fight back, instead welcoming the warmth his chest provided you and resting your head against one of his shoulders. “you know he doesn’t know y/n, if he did i’m sure things would be different.”

“i know, but it’s fine. i just want him to be happy.”

even if it’s not with me.

but you don’t say that, preferring to just stay on kirishima’s arms a little longer while trying to ignore the two love birds giggling behind you, your heart breaking more and more each time you heard kaminari’s sweet words. because they weren’t for you, they were for her.

—

« why would you ever kiss me?

i’m not even half as pretty

you gave her your sweater

it’s just polyester

but you like her better

wish i were heather »

HIDING your emotions was something you mastered pretty well by now. you spent years keeping your feelings for kaminari to yourself and you didn’t mind at all; you had come to terms with the fact that this crush was probably one sided a long time ago. so, why did you suddenly felt the need to tell him? it never bothered you, but now, after having to see him every day making heart eyes at her and hear him talk about how cool she was, you thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. you just wanted him to have the option; he deserved to know right? or maybe you were just hoping that he would choose you over her. just like you would choose him over anyone in a heartbeat.

but to be honest, you didn’t know what you would do with yourself if he didn’t. if he chose her over you while knowing you loved him too. what if she meant more to him than you did? what if he thought you were outright weird and things became awkward? what if your friendship wasn’t as special as you thought it was? you shook your head, hands coming up to your temples to try and get rid of some of the tension. no, that couldn’t be. you knew he loved you...at least as a friend.

it had been 2 months already since kaminari and jirou started talking. they weren’t oficial yet, but you accidentally overheard her conversation with yaoyorozu a few days ago and heard her complaining about how she wished he finally made a move on her. that somehow relieved you because at least they hadn’t gotten physical yet, but at the same time you wondered if you were being a bad friend by thinking that. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help it. i mean you liked the boy for fucks sake, it was understandable that you weren’t exactly hoping for them to pounce on each other.

“where’s denki?” kirishima asked as he caught up with you in the hallway, both of you making your way to the new dorms.

“don’t know, he left before i could even ask him.” you tried your best to sound neutral, but you knew you didn’t do a good job when you heard kirishima sighing. however, much to your liking, he stayed quiet and didn’t say anything about it, changing the topic to today’s events.

you were grateful to have him; he was the only one who knew about your crush on kaminari and the only one who was able to take your mind off things even for just a little while. soon enough you found yourself laughing by his side as he talked about bakugou’s weird antics and how hot-headed he could be at times, which you had experienced firsthand.

“he was all like ‘hey shitty hair, if you’re not gonna do a good work then fuck off!’ like man calm down, i didn’t even do anything.” you giggled at his accurate impersonation of the angry blonde. shaking your head as you looked up, noticing you were already at the dorms building.

you squinted your eyes when you saw two people standing right in front of the main entrance, but couldn’t make out their faces thanks to the long distance. yet the closer you got, the better you could see them. and once your eyes focused on the couple completely, everything stopped.

it was them.

they were kissing.

right in front of you.

his arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him as if he never wanted to let her go, and her own were wrapped around his neck, caressing his soft blonde hair which you loved to ruffle whenever he laid down on your lap.

they looked so beautiful, straight out of a cheesy romcom movie. the sun was beginning to set and its rays reflected on their skin perfectly, making them look golden. and in that precise moment you realized just how beautiful jirou was and how much she complimented kaminari in every sense of the word. could it be that they were made for each other?

before you knew it, a single tear rolled down your cheek, and you weakly smiled at kirishima when he opened his mouth to try and comfort you, yet no words seemed to come out. because he knew that no matter what he said, the damage was already done. the couple hadn’t even noticed you two, too immersed in their own little world as they giggled and made their way inside, all while holding each other’s hands.

“they make a good couple, don’t they?” you fixed your eyes on your shoes, holding back the sobs that desperately wanted to escape you.

“y/n…” kirishima’s tone was sad, mostly because he didn’t know what to do, but also because he understood perfectly the pain you were going through. he had been experiencing it for a while now.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, kiri.” you sent him another smile, but right when you started walking towards the entrance he managed to see the tears falling down your cheeks as you bit down on your lower lip.

and somehow, that kiss proved to you that you could never beat her, that she had won over kaminari’s heart. something you could never do.

—

« watch as she stands with her holding your hand

put your arm 'round her shoulder, 

now I'm getting colder

but how could I hate her? 

she’s such an angel

but then again, kinda wish she were dead »

PEOPLE often say one’s happiness shouldn’t relay on others and you had always been a firm believer of that, knowing that people were unpredictable and that they could change at any moment given. so it was only reasonable that you made yourself happy, without needing to depend on other people, yet that didn’t really add up with your current situation. it made you look like a hypocrite.

ever since jirou and kaminari started dating, you had been spending less and less time together. the only time you could have him all to yourself was when you occasionally paired up during training and even then you didn’t really talk much. you were happy everything had worked out for them, and you loved to see kaminari happy, but it hurt you. it hurt so much, to the point that sometimes it was hard to get out of bed. 

you missed your best friend. and you knew it was selfish, but did it even matter at this point? did he he notice how you talked less and less? how you barely smiled anymore? of course he didn’t. he was too busy looking at her anyways, too busy going on dates and learning how to play the guitar just for her. his girlfriend. 

and as much as you wanted to hate them both, you didn’t have it in you. why would you? because they were happy and in love? you weren’t that desperate. but sometimes, as you watched her throw her head back while she laughed at something kaminari said, you wished he had never met her. you wished you never came to UA in the first place, that way they wouldn’t have met and you would probably still have your best friend by your side. no. even if he hadn’t met her, you knew he would never go for a girl like you.

these past few months had been hell for you, you barely left your room unless it was for school, your eating habits couldn’t have gotten any worse, and you weren’t getting any sleep, too busy crying your eyes out as you wondered what the hell you did wrong. and you knew what you were doing wasn’t healthy, but a part of you wished that something really bad happened to you just so kaminari would pay attention to you again. but he didn’t.

today was one of those days, you didn’t feel like getting up your bed just to watch a dumb movie with your classmates, and possible have to witness jirou and kaminari being all lovey dovey right in front of you. the thought alone was enough to make you roll your eyes, scoffing at how much the pair loved PDA. 

“come on y/n! it’ll be so fun.” kirishima was currently trying to convince you to go watch a movie with the rest of class 1-A in the common room, but as expected you denied his invitation. “even bakugou is going!” 

“then you’ll be more than fine without me.” 

“i’ll miss you tho.” he gave you puppy eyes and you groaned, placing your pillow over your face.

“since when are you so cheesy?”

“stop trying to change the subject,” a frustrated sigh left his lips, and you lowered your pillow to look at him. he was sitting down on the floor with his legs crossed, a frown evident on his face. “i know you don’t wanna talk about it, but you can’t keep on like this y/n.” you flinched slightly at his serious tone.

“i know,” this time it was you who sighed, weighing your options in your head. you knew kirishima was right and he was trying his best to make you feel better, so the least you could do was make him some company. “okay fine,” his head turned in your direction, looking at you hopefully. “i’ll go, but it better be a good movie.” 

“yes! you won’t regret it, i promise. and if at some point you wanna leave, then we’ll leave, but you have to at least try.” your heart swelled at his consideration; he was too sweet to you and you didn’t deserve it at all.

“you don’t have to do that, kiri.”

“but i want to. i know it’s not easy, so i’m proud of you for doing this.” his words made a lump appear in your throat. maybe you were being overly sensitive, but hearing him say that meant a lot.

it wasn’t long before the clock striked 9PM and everyone started making their way to the common room, chatting happily as they sat down and got everything ready for the night. you watched as people started to take a seat, whether it was on the couches or on the floor, and you started to get a bit anxious when you noticed kaminari walking down the stairs, but jirou was nowhere to be seen. thankfully.

as much as you tried to not let him have an effect on you, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you saw him. it was truly inevitable, but what you hated the most was knowing you had no effect on him whatsoever. 

before you could look away and hide from his view, kaminari spotted you. he sent you a big smile, waving his hand before walking over to where you stood. ok, calm down act normal. it’s just denki. you tried to calm yourself down, but your breath hitched in your throat when you suddenly felt his arms engulf you in a tight hug, your arms slowly coming up to his neck to return the gesture. you would be lying if you said you hadn’t miss this feeling. the feeling of being home again. 

but it ended way too fast for your liking.

“hey you! we haven’t hung out in a while, i miss you.” 

because you’re too busy with your girlfriend, asshole. 

“yeah sorry about that, i’ve been kinda busy i guess.” your tone was off and he noticed, but he brushed it off. maybe she’s tired.

“then what are you doing tomorrow? we can go to the mall or wherever you want to.” your head quickly shot up, looking at him with nothing but hope in your eyes.

“really?”

“of course! we need to have some bestie time.” the wink he sent you was playful, but your lips still curved into a smile from hearing him saying he wanted to spend time with you.

“then maybe we can go to this new-”

“hey babe i saved you a seat,” out of the blue, jirou appeared right next to kaminari, slipping her hand into his. and your heart clenched when you noticed he held it back tightly. “oh, hi y/n!” she sent you a warm, genuine smile, and you felt so bad for wanting her to feel your pain. 

“hi jirou.” 

“i was just telling y/n about how we should hang out.” you frowned at him, is he inviting her? 

“oh? where did you plan on going?” 

“i told her she should pick.”

“well that sounds even more fun, any ideas?”

“actually i just remembered i got some homework to finish.” it was a lie, but you didn’t have it in you to third wheel on what was supposed to be a date with your best friend.

“what?” kaminari asked you, not understanding you sudden change in attitude.

“yeah, maybe next time tho.” he wanted to ask what was wrong, but as he opened his mouth to do so, you saw kirishima walking towards the common room with bakugou and took that as your cue to leave the awkward encounter. 

“well that was weird.” he mumbled to himself and jirou looked at him questioningly, wondering what he meant.

“hm? what was that babe?” the blonde shook his head, convincing himself he was probably overthinking things. he placed his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder before walking over to one of the couches. to be more precise, the couch in front of yours. 

you sat beside kirishima, your leg bouncing up and down anxiously as you waited for iida to finally play the goddamn movie so you had something else to pay attention to instead of them. kirishima quickly noticed the unusual movement and was about to ask you what was wrong, but once he saw where your gaze was locked on, it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. 

he knew better than to ask you in front of everyone if you were okay, so he just gave your knee a light squeeze, which you highly appreciated and let him know so by smiling at him. after a few minutes that felt like eternity, iida played the movie and told everyone to not make any unnecessary noises and be considerate of your classmates which made you scoff slightly. 

twenty minutes into the movie and everything was going great so far. you had actually managed to get immersed in the plot and found yourself leaning your head against kirishima’s shoulder to get a better view, but also because the effect of not having a stable sleeping schedule was dawning on you. however, just when you thought you were about to fall asleep on your friend’s comfortable shoulder, you heard some giggles. you opened your eyes slowly, frowning when you saw kaminari leaving small kisses on jirou’s neck. your heart felt like it was being stabbed for the hundredth time and you tried to ignore them and just focus on the tv screen. you really tried to remain calm, to keep up your act just as you had done all this months, but you lost it when you heard those three damn words leave his lips.

“i love you.”

it was low, barely even audible, but you heard it. you heard it loud and clear. and just like that, with your heart losing every last bit of hope it had, you stood up from your seat abruptly, making everyone look at you, before making your way upstairs without saying another word. all of your classmates looked between them, not only confused, but also concerned. 

“oi shitty hair,” bakugou spoke from his place next to kirishima, who looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “go check up on her.” he muttered and kirishima only nodded before walking upstairs to follow you.

bakugou’s words worried kaminari even more, was there something going on with you that he didn’t know about? was that why you were acting so weird earlier? no way, you told him everything. you were best friends after all...right? and with that question on his mind, he couldn’t focus on the movie or his girlfriend anymore.

you walked towards your room silently, even though you wanted nothing more than to scream and fight someone. you wanted, no, needed to let all of your pent up frustration out. you had been patient enough, putting his happiness before your own for years now, and while you knew it wasn’t his fault at all, you wanted to be mad at him about something. you wanted him to understand that this wasn’t fair, that you could be good for him if he gave you the chance, that you wouldn’t be a waste of his time, but the only thing that was coming out of you were tears.

angry tears stained your face as they furiously ran down your cheeks, reminding you of all the sleepless nights you spent alone, crying your heart out to no one but yourself. you stood in front of your room, hand reaching out to the door’s knob to open it and spend yet another night wondering why the hell you weren’t enough. but a hand stopped you.

kirishima’s grip on your forearm was gentle, but firm enough to let you know he wasn’t going anywhere, and somehow, his touch made you want to cry even more. you tried to push him away, telling him that you were perfectly fine, yet your bloodshot eyes told a whole different story. and as much as you kicked and screamed, kirishima knew the last thing you needed was to be alone.

“let go!” seeing that holding your arms had no effect on you whatsoever, he tried a different approach. his strong arms hugged you to his chest, and, as much as you wanted to deny it, you found comfort in them. “i said let me go, kirishima.” 

“no. y/n listen to me. you need to stop bottling all your feelings up, nothing good will come out of that,” you finally started to relax, breathing heavily as you listened to his words. “it doesn’t matter if you talk, cry, or scream, but you need to voice out how you feel. if it’s not to him, then tell me. i’m always ready to listen.” his voice was so gentle, so soft, yet it held so much emotion and honesty. 

more tears fell down your cheeks as you gripped kirishima’s shirt tightly against your fingers, your face hiding comfortably on his chest. 

“i can’t take this anymore kiri,” you started talking and kirishima was quick to hug you a little tighter, one of his hands rubbing small circles on the small of your back. “i miss him so much, i miss my best friend. and i want him to be happy, i really do, but why must his happiness cause me so much pain?” a sob racked through your whole body after hearing yourself say those words, the ones you never thought you’d voice out to someone. “at first it was fine and i didn’t mind that much, but now? we barely even talk anymore, and when we do it’s always small talk. and we used to talk for hours about everything and anything, we would never get bored when we were together. now it’s like i don’t even exist to him except for when he seems to have some time to spare. did our friendship meant shit to him? because fuck i wasted years of my life loving someone who can’t even notice how much i’ve been struggling.” 

by this point your tears had stained kirishima’s shirt almost completely, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck about that. all that mattered was you and only you. the only thought on his mind was how he was gonna make you feel better. so he held you in his arms a little longer, hoping that somehow his actions could express everything he felt. his free hand came up to caress your hair while he shushed you softly, rocking you two back and forth. 

that’s how the night ended. 

you, with your heart broken in a million pieces, longing for the person who made you feel this way. because you knew you would always love him, maybe even more than you loved yourself. you knew that no matter how much you tried to hate him, you could never even get close to feeling anything but pure adoration for the boy. and if having him in your life implied having to handle all this heartache and hurt, then maybe you could endure it. because for him it was all worth it. 

and a certain redhead with all his feelings caught in his throat. he wanted nothing more than to scream at you for not noticing he understood completely how you felt, way more than you imagined, yet he knew that you would always only have eyes for him. but perhaps that was okay. if the only way to be close to you was comforting you because you loved a guy who was too dense to see what he had in front of him, then so be it. in the end it was all worth it for you.

[nessaxc]

___________________________________

Every Part Of You || Oikawa Tooru

You feel self-conscious about your stretch marks, and Oikawa shows you just how much he loves you and your stretch marks.

~ Rating: Explicit, 18+

~ Words: 1.9k

~ Tags: Smut, Fluff, Comfort Sex, Cunnilingus, Lap Sex, Praise Kink, Pet name

___________________________________

You walked down the stairs with a frown on your face. Ten minutes earlier you were staring in the mirror at your reflection, gazing at the new marks stretching across the skin on your stomach. Running your fingertips over the raised scars lightly as your eyebrows creased at the silver streak running across your abdomen. You already had stretch marks that were smaller and easier to conceal, but these were out in the open. Huffing slightly, you pulled the long shirt back down to cover your body and unlocked the bathroom door. With each step down the steps leading into the living room where Oikawa was, a new inquisition leapt to the forefront of your mind. What if Oikawa finds it ugly? What if he hates them?

The questions were flooding your brain as you finally reached the bottom of the steps, your nerves shooting through the roof as you looked over at Oikawa who was searching for a movie to watch. Deep down you knew he wouldn’t mind your scars at all, he was always so supportive with anything you approached him with, no matter how ridiculous it was. Every time you walked downstairs, dressed up and ready for your date night, Oikawa could never stop the compliments. But a tiny part of you was always hesitant over talking to him about your insecurities.

“Hey, Y/N. You alright?” Oikawa concerning tone pulled you from your thoughts and you blinked out of your daze, realising you had been stood unmoving at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, just lost my train of thought for a second,” you smile at him, walking over to the sofa and flopping down next to him.

“You figured out what we’re watching yet?” Side-eyeing him, you saw on his face that he had no luck in choosing a movie, the defeat slowly becoming evident in his features. It took about twenty minutes to finally find something to watch, twenty long minutes of playful arguing over movie choices like children. Oikawa’s hand snaked around your waist as you cuddled into him. He played with the hem of your shirt, lifting it slightly to brush his fingertips along the skin of your hip causing you to tense at his touch slightly. Oikawa looked over at you, his brows furrowing in confusion at your ministrations.

“Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” You met his eyes, his soft, chocolately orbs gazing into yours.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked, shuffling slightly to face him properly. “Anything,” he responded, his hand that was on your waist shifting to run up and down your thigh.

You fiddle with your fingers and, Oikawa notices your nervous tick. “You love me, right?” His eyebrows shot up at the question. He wasn’t expecting that query to come out of your mouth.

“Baby, of course I love you. Where’s this coming from?” He covered his hand with yours, rubbing soothing circles.

“I just-I wanna know if you’d still love me if I had…body imperfections or something.” You chewed your lip as he pulled back slightly, startled.

“Y/N, you have no imperfections.”

You chuckled slightly, “Tooru, everyone has imperfections.” But he wasn’t having any of it. “Nope,” he claimed, “babygirl you are the most perfect woman in the world.”

You giggled, shaking your head slightly as you gave him a half-smile. Cupping your face with his hands, he looked into your eyes, trying to decipher what was going on. “I would love you no matter what. But, you gotta tell me, is there something specific that’s bothering you?"

Your eyes dropped slightly as you continued to bite at your lip, "I found some stretch marks on my stomach and I didn’t know how you’d react.” Oikawa’s head tilted slightly as he registered your words. “Oh, sweetheart, I love you, I love every part of you. Your stretch marks are beautiful, and I love them just the same.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, filled with compassion and sincerity. “You do?” Your whisper was barely audible as you forced it out. Oikawa nodded, his palms dropping from your cheeks to bring your hands up to his face, kissing your knuckles. “Baby, everything about you is perfect. You should never feel uncomfortable telling me about this stuff. I’ll never think any different of you. Never."

Oikawa leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours in a sweet, comforting kiss. You felt his hands travel down your body, one to your waist and one to your thigh. Within seconds you were led on your back whilst he hovered over you, your breath mingling with his from how close he was. His hands found the bottom of your long shirt, pulling slightly and looking into your eyes for any uncertainty. When you didn’t stop him, Oikawa lifted your shirt over your head, tossing it over the television that was still playing the movie you had put on earlier. You looked up at him, expecting him to lean down and kiss you, but he did the opposite. He leaned back on his haunches and looked at you. Observing you.

"What?” You questioned his actions, confused as to what he was doing exactly.

He shook his head, cocking it to the side as his eyes raked over your body. “I just don’t understand how you don’t realise how flawless you are.”

Your heart jumped at those words. Your face broke into a small smile as Oikawa leaned down, kissing you deeply, tongue tracing along your bottom lip. Almost upon instinct, your lips parted and his tongue slipped inside your mouth, licking at each tooth and into each crevice. You could feel him hardening against your thigh as his hips slotted between your legs, his jeans rubbing against your bare skin. Oikawa’s lips left your own, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before trailing wet kisses down your jaw to your neck, and sucking at your pulse point. Your back arched at the sensation as your fingers entangled themselves in his hair.

“Tooru”, you moaned as his lips trailed lower, eventually resting against your lower stomach.

“I got you baby. Look so beautiful.” His skin tickled your sensitive skin as he kissed over your marks, taking care to give attention to each scar ample affection to each and every one, never leaving one feeling neglected. “So lucky to have you in my life baby. So pretty.”

Oikawa’s fingers hooked around your panties and pulled them down your legs, flinging them over the back of the sofa. His kisses travelled lower until you could feel his breath against your slick heat. “So ready for me. Could stay between your thighs forever, babygirl.” His words alone were such a turn-on. He always knew what to say to make you writhe under him, make you wetter than pansy petals after rain. Before you could respond, Oikawa licked a stripe up the middle of your slick. Your mouth fell open as one of your hands gripped his hair, the other hand grabbing the sofa as your hips involuntarily bucked into him, desperate for his touch. He chuckled against your skin, the reverberating feeling going straight to your core. “Easy baby. I wanna take my time with you this time. Show you how perfect you are.” And with that, he delved back into your pussy, licking and sucking in all the right places to make you fall apart beneath his touches. His tongue dipped into your aching core, pulling a throaty groan from your mouth, one unrecognisable to you. “Taste so good. Would have you for every meal if I could.”

“Fu-fuck Tooru. I’m gonna-” you were cut off by Oikawa sucking harshly at your clit, expertly working his tongue on it. The feeling pulling you to the familiar warm sensation only Oikawa could make you feel. Your back arched off the sofa and your grip in his hair tightened as a warmth flooded through your body, making your whole body shudder with pleasure as Oikawa lapped up your juices. “Love hearing those pretty little moans of yours. Got any more in you?"

He stayed buried in your folds until it became too much, only pulling away when you forced his head away from you with the little strength you had left. His mustache was coated in your slick, his eyes hungry for you. Pulling his own shirt off, he kissed his way back up your body, leaving a trail of your release in his wake. After what felt like a lifetime, he reached your lips, kissing you deeply as you tasted yourself against his mouth. Oikawa’s arms wrapped around your back and leaned back, pulling you up onto his lap.

"I want you to ride me, baby. You look so beautiful when you ride your man. So pretty bouncing on my cock.” God, how could you refuse this man?

Your hands snaked between the two of you to release his sweetpants. After his sweetpants and underwear were discarded somewhere in the living room (you were gonna have a hard time finding your clothes later), you rose on your knees, lining his cock up with your entrance. Oikawa fused his lips to yours as you slowly sank onto his cock, his tongue licking into your mouth. Once fully seated inside you, Oikawa’s hands drifted down to grip your ass, holding and kneading at the flesh with his fingertips. “So gorgeous, baby. Looking so damn perfect, up on your man.”

You smiled, moving your hips slowly as you adjusted to his length, the tip scraping deliciously against the aching spot inside you. His hands gripped your hips while your palms laid on his chest, heart thumping rapidly in his chest as you rode him at a slow, aching pace. Your hips sped up as you felt your second orgasm approaching fast and hard. Like a tsunami building up inside you, threatening to spill over at any point. Oikawa’s thumb found its way to your clit, rubbing circles as your head fell back in pleasure, mouth open as you moaned his name.

“Oh god, Tooru, gonna cum,” you managed to breathe out, nails digging into his bare chest, most likely leaving indented half-crescent shapes in his skin.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Soak me like I know you can.” Oikawa’s words pushed you over the edge, your orgasm flooding you, pleasure searing through your veins as you clenched your walls around him. “Goddamn babygirl, always look so gorgeous when you cum for me. Like a goddess. I don’t deserve you sometimes,” Oikawa’s strained the last couple of words as you clenched harder around him, drowning his cock in your cum. Triggering his own release, you felt as he coated your walls, warm ropes of cum painting your insides. Panting heavily, you collapsed onto Oikawa’s sweat-slicked chest, fingertips trailing patterns across his chest. His hands ran up and down your spine, trailing along the ticklish spots on your hips.

“Thank you, baby,” you mumbled, tipping your head up to kiss his jaw. He chuckled, tilting to look down at you.

“Baby, you don’t need to thank me. I’ll happily do that any time you want. But you’re perfect, and I’ll tell you that every minute of every day if I have to.” Oikawa kissed the top of your head as his arms around you tightened. “I love you Y/N, all of you.”

“I love you too, Tooru.”

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to your man’s lips as the movie credits rolled, visible on the part of the screen that your discarded clothes weren’t covering.

___________________________________

[anika-ann]

Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series 

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move. 

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings:  alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.  

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face.  And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.  

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

[storiesforallfandoms]

childhood secrets ~ hannibal lecter;hannibal

word count: 1711

request?: yes!

shady80smusicsingercolor “Hey! Can i request something

Hannibal l x reader

The reader kept her childhood a secret from everyone,until she was watching news about a teen getting bullied,she remembers her childhood and just cries.Hannibal notices and goes run up to her,ask what's wrong.She explain what happen,that her childhood friends used make fun of her,or calling her weirdo.Hannibal comforts her

Hope is okay❤”

description: after hearing the story of a teenager’s tragic passing, unwanted memories are brought back to her

pairing: hannibal lecter x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, mentions of bullying

masterlist

“Did you hear about the Thompson girl?” Zeller asked as we examined some DNA for a case.

“Who’s the Thompson girl, first and foremost?” I asked.

“She was friends with Abigail Hobbs when she was sent to that psychiatric facility,” Price explained. “They were room neighbors I think.”

“Oh! That Hannah girl! What happened to her?”

“Her parents found her dead in her room. Suicide.”

I was so shocked at the response that I dropped the tool in my hand. Both of them looked at me for a moment as I just looked down at my hands. I was trying to calm the growing PTSD rising in me.

“The poor thing,” I finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Price said. “I think she was in the facility because of mental illness. Her parents put her in there after her first attempt.”

Zeller shook his head. “Poor thing. They shouldn’t have let her check out so soon. (Y/N), are you okay?”

I was still staring down at my hands. They were shaking and it was getting hard to breathe. I could barley register the fact that Zeller had asked me something. They were both looking at me, expectantly.

“What? Yes, I’m fine,” I responded. “I gotta get some fresh air.”

I threw my coat and gloves on a nearby table and quickly raced for the exit. I had to wait for the elevator to take me to the ground floor, but the wait was antagonizing. My chest and throat felt tight, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

When the elevator door opened, I was faced with Jack Crawford, Will Graham, and Hannibal Lecter.

“(Y/N),” Crawford said. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t respond this time. I had to get out, I had to be away from there.

The breathe of fresh air in my lungs was just what I needed, but I was still feeling panicked. Flashbacks were running through my head, things I had repressed for all those years coming back all at once, hitting me like a freight train. I sat down on the sidewalk, trying to calm my breathing enough to go back inside.

“Miss. (Y/L/N)?”

I looked up to see Hannibal stood behind me.

“I’m fine, Dr. Lecter,” I told him. “You don’t have to check on me.”

“You’re very obviously not okay. You’re breathing is abnormal and you look as though you’ve been crying.”

I felt my cheek and was shocked to find that Hannibal was right, I had been crying. I hadn’t even realized it before.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, but the crack in my voice gave me away.

Hannibal sat next to me. I tried not to let him see my face, but I knew there was no turning back now. He had seen me in the elevator, he saw how unhappy I was at that moment. Any other person would just think I was overwhelmed from work, or maybe one of our discoveries had upset me, but Hannibal was a talented psychiatrist. He probably already knew what was wrong with me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I chuckled. “How often does that one work?”

“Enough times to keep me employed.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Zeller and Price were telling me about a girl that used to be friends with Abigail, Hannah Thompson. She...she...”

“I know,” Hannibal finished for me, luckily. Just thinking about having to finish that sentence made my throat tight again. “I wasn’t aware you knew her so well.”

“I didn’t, but I know...the feeling. Like you’re trapped in your own mind and there’s only one way out of it.”

Hannibal was looking at me, waiting for me to continue but not pushing me to go any further than I felt comfortable with. I wouldn’t have to go any further with my explanation if I didn’t want to, I knew he wouldn’t force me. We could’ve dropped it right then and there.

But my mouth moved before my mind could comprehend what I was sating, “I was the weird girl in school. While other girls wanted to be princesses or astronauts, I wanted to be a forensic scientist. I always had a fascination with crime and forensics and such. At first, I was just an outcast with no friends, until a group of girls took me in and added me to their group in high school. They weren’t super popular girls, but they also weren’t my level of outcast or anything, so, understandably, I was excited.”

“I’d assume it wasn’t as ideal of a situation as you were led to believe.”

I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes again. “They only befriended me so I could be their verbal punching bag. It started mild at first, just some friendly jokes that I could throw back at them. Then they started calling me the weird girl, the freak who liked death and murder. They’d make fun of me for reading stuff about unsolved murders, or even just murder mystery novels. They told me I’d probably grow up to be one of the unfound murderers in those stories. They put me down at every chance they got, but they were the only friends I had so I just...I dealt with it. I even gave up the opportunity to shadow at a police department during my senior year because I was afraid of them making fun of me more.”

“What was the tipping point?” Hannibal asked. “Obviously they are no longer around. I assume either you got rid of them or...they left themselves.”

“A bit of both really,” I responded. “One day, their bullying just got too much for me. My parents never liked the group, so I felt like I couldn’t go to them because they’d just tell me ‘I told you so’ - not because that’s how my parents are but because that was my irrational fear - and the teachers and guidance councilors and principals at school were garbage. They did nothing unless they actually witnessed the bullying first hand, and even then it was always a slap on the wrist punishment. So, I thought...I thought I only had one way out.”

I was still half conscious when my parents found me. My mother’s screams were permanently etched in my head, her sobs breaking through the otherwise muffled sounds I was hearing. Even when I blacked out, all I could hear in my head was my mother.

“They sent me to the same hospital Abigail was in,” I continued, skipping over the nasty parts that I couldn’t bare to relive. “My parents said I needed actual, medical help, that they couldn’t ignore my mental health issues anymore. I was there for months. I met people just like me, people who understood what I was going through. I made friends with a lot of them, and they’re all still in my life right now. My high school friend group came to visit me at one point. They seemed genuine enough with their apologies, saying they didn’t realize how much I took their words to heart and how they didn’t know how dark of a place I was in mentally. I don’t know how true any of that was, but they put on a good act. When they finished their groveling, I told them to go fuck themselves and to never contact me again. They were...offended, to say the least. Apparently they spread rumors about me at school, but I finished my senior year at a different school so it didn’t really matter to me. Went off to do forensic science in college and...here I am.”

For a moment, a look of pride passed over Hannibal’s face, as if the end of my story made him feel proud for me. I guess it made me feel proud, too, but sometimes I kicked myself for sticking around with that toxic friend group for far too long.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” I admitted. “Not anyone who didn’t know me at the time, anyways. I tried to keep it repressed, but hearing about Hannah Thompson...it brought all those memories back for me. Maybe I’m not over it like I think I am.”

“Mental trauma when your brain is still developing is not something one can easily get over,” Hannibal said. “It takes years, and even then those painful memories could follow you to your grave.”

I winced at the thought of having to battle with those memories until the day I died. Part of me was still worried that they would be the reason I would eventually die.

“But it is important to know that your old friend group was wrong,” he continued. “There is nothing wrong with being interested in something that the masses aren’t interested in. I’d argue that being interested in murder and police work is much better than wanting to grow up and be a princess or an astronaut. Your job helps the police to find serial killers and to save innocent people from being their victims. There’s nothing weird about that, not in my eyes.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter. I think I just needed to hear that when I was younger and...no one really said it to me before.”

“I’m saying it now,” he said. “If you ever feel overcome with those memories again, please do not hesitate to call me. A beautiful and brilliant mind such as yourself should not be worrying over what irrelevant people have to say about you.”

I felt myself blush, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the reassurance Hannibal was giving me, or if it was from the compliment.

“I want to sit out here for a little while longer,” I told him. “I still need some air, and to come down from what happened back there. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I don’t have to, but I will,” he decided. “I want to make sure you’re okay before I join my collegues again.”

I smiled at him again. I definitely wasn’t about to fight him on staying there with me. Quite the opposite, actually. If there was anyone I wanted with me in that moment, it was Hannibal.

[itjazzbicch]

2-0

Pairing:  Matt Jackson x Fem Reader

Summary: Based off Surging Waves:

The reader and Matt have a wonderful first date that ended with some spice and created a strong bond between them. With a busy schedule, the reader tries to make some time for them and they do find time in the ring, learning their ring chemistry and then some...

Warnings:  SMUT! (18+ ONLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Requested by:  No one (But I hope you all enjoy!)

Word Count:  2043

Tag List: @demonqueen29​ @jessiebean00​ @new-zealand-chic​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @justamess44​ @thatpanpal​ @hungmanhorsecarriage​ @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​  @linziland13​ @xxx-jazz-xxx​ @writtingrose​

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF

[Hey Matt, I know we’ve both been busy lately, but here in the city, I have my own ring. Wanna hang out and get some training in? Here’s the address if you decide to come]

A true connection was established during my first date with Matt, that connection making my heart ache a little every time he was away.

It had been a little over a week since we had time to ourselves because of how filled our schedules were but with a day between shows in the same city, I figured this would be the perfect opportunity.

I was hoping I didn’t come off as clingy or desperate by that message. Not receiving a response was a bad sign in my eyes.

An hour had passed when I gave up. Matt wasn’t coming. With a tense, angry hand, I snatched my sweat towel, ready to exit the ring, but then I heard knocking on the door.

“It’s open!” My voice echoed throughout the room, eyes exploding with happiness and relief at the sight of Matt walking through the door with a gym bay.

“Nice ring!” Matt complimented, finding the apron and jumping up, getting a good feel of the ropes, “Man, I don’t think our crew even does this good!”

“Thanks,” I appreciated, “I put a lot into this ring.”

Matt always knew how to make my eyes lock onto him, adoring his tye-dye t-shirt, but enjoying the show much more when he revealed his bare chest, his abs built and tone, tossing his shirt off.

I was enraptured by his every move but also distracted and just able to roll out of the way when he jumped off the top rope and into the ring, coming at me.

A sharp wheeze made my chest seize, exhaling deeply in the corner, stressing, “What was that about?”

“I told you, next time we’re in a ring, we’re having a match,” Matt recalled, “Remember?”

That was during our first kiss and I remembered, clear as day.

A fiendish, playful smile was my response; nodding my head when I stood up in the corner across from him, smiling, “Oh, I remember. Remember what I told you? Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

It was hard not to laugh when Matt turned away, as if there was a timekeeper's area, yelling, “Ring the bell! Ding! Ding! Ding!”

The first thing we did was get into a lock-up and this time, I actually had to use a good bit of strength. Matt was a lot strong than I anticipated, but I was able to keep up.

I tried keeping it simple with some chain wrestling, but our pace picked up a lot, especially since I was a high flyer. I was so used to moving so fast.

Lucha rolls, jumping off the ropes, dropkicks, arm drags, cross bodies; If we were on Dynamite, the fans would eat it up. We were basically wrestling a real match and it was astonishing how evenly matched we were.

All that fast-paced wrestling was wearing me down, so I decided to go for a pin. Matt and I’s hands were interlocked, trying to overpower one another, but I swept out his leg, then jumped on top of him.

With my head pressed hard against his shoulder, pinning him down to the mat, I called out, “One! Two!”

He kicked out and I tried again, pushing my head against his other shoulder, yelling, “One! Two!”

Matt was truly proving his strength, almost breaking my hold, trying to throw me off with a thrust of his hips upwards, but with a loud groan, I pushed them back down, keeping mine pinned against his.

Silence fell between us, a desirous look in his eyes when our eyes met, both of our chests heaving.

“Got damn it, I can’t take it anymore,” He heaved, breaking my hold and sitting up, cradling my face with both hands, powerful zealousness in his lips when they met mine.

His passion was so strong and stirring, small trembles radiating through his body, tensed up muscles that made his arms latch around my waist, keeping me in a warm embrace.

All those feelings flowing between us continued to grow stronger as my reaction was to return an even more spirituous kiss, my hands now cradling his face.

We probably could’ve kissed each other to the point where we stopped breathing and collapsed, but the sound of our lips popping free echoed in the room, the look of lust being shared between us.

“God, have I missed that,” Matt confessed, taking the moment to catch his breath.

“Really?” I whispered shyly; swimming in those deep brown eyes made me a little nervous. Everything about him was so striking, anything he did made my heart flutter and that intensified the second I felt his lips against mine.

“Yes,” He assured, chuckling like I was speaking nonsense, but the lust came back and kicked in hard, making me even more flustered, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and it feels so good to have what I want.”

Knowing that we were experiencing the same emotions regarding one another made that nervousness fade away, getting what I wanted to, kissing him along with a scruff of his beard.

I fell in deep, getting lost and we began to think unconsciously, our bodies beginning to move together.

“What do you think of turning this match into a submission match, hm?” Matt offered, thrusting his hips into me gently.

“You think you can make me tap out?” I snickered, shaking from arousal when his hands pinned my hips to his, biting at my lower lip and growling:

“I know I can.”

“I’d love to see you try,” I grinned, slowly grinding against him, able to feel how the tension bulging between his thighs, his erect cock creating tight friction against his shorts.

“Oh, I’m going to,” He pledged, swapping positions and slamming me against the mat.

Clothes were flung all over the ring, shoes kicked out to the floor. For a moment, I couldn’t believe I was doing this in my ring, but the emotions between made me careless.

Only focused on Matt, kneeling back down to the canvas, hand giving soft strokes, attending to the length and thickness of his cock.

Stars were spinning around my head already, my brain so pleasurably dazed that I had my own, slow-motion view, but the speed of our movements caught up to me.

Our skin was hot pressed together, stinging steaming trapped and it wasn’t going to get any cooler from here.

His smile against my lips showed his excitement, enjoying the squish of my thighs when he spread them wide.

Sweat was forming and I was filled with heat, moaning against his lips, looking down for a moment to see his cock slowly disappear inside me, inch by inch.

My body showed how hungry I was for this, walls keeping ahold of him and not wanting to ever let go, slicking him so much already.

I could feel him being milked with every thrust, fighting some noise that could be declared sinful, feeling a pinch in my lower core that made me groan, “ugh!”

“You hiding your moans? Don’t act all tough “ He panted, holding my face by the jaw, sloppily kissing, “I know every noise you’ll make will be beautiful.”

“Ugh!” I gasped, still registering that pinch, “M-Matt!”

It made my body tremble, my brain having to process every move he made because it was so overloaded with pleasure and bliss, his pace quickening to satisfy both our needs.

A hand got tangled in his hair, pulling unintentionally, I just needed something, getting the contact I needed when I latched around his body, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“Still not ready to tap yet?” He teased, not ready for the moan that jumped from his chest due to the feeling of my hips beginning to chase his, moving faster this his current pace.

“You should know by now, I don’t go down without a fight,” I growled, pulling at his hair a little again.

“You don’t go down without a fight?” He repeated with a deep grunt, making it tough for me not to fall into a puddle when he went off like a jackhammer, sentence being finished with a rough thrust.

With a tight scrunch of his nose, he sat up to admire his cock pulling back just to be sucked back in so quickly, biting his lips and focusing on the squelching sound being created between us, making an even bigger mess of me.

“G-go-“ I stuttered, a sharp arch forming in my lower back, fingernails scratching at the canvas.

“Spit it out,” He smiled, curious as to what I was going to say, thinking I was ready to tap.

“Got damn you, Matt,” I whined, gasping at the feeling of my sweet spot being hammered, rattling my body like an earthquake and I didn’t know how much my body could take before I became undone.

Matt could always read me well, doubling his efforts, such a sexy but devilish look on his face; hair falling down past his eyes, that look alone had me ready.

His eyebrows raised with expectancy when I became so dazed I could only babble out his name, lips having trouble that I made me drool.

To keep a stabilized flow of pleasure through me, he established a quick, pounding rhythm, balls slapping against my wet skin, raising my legs a little higher with a tight grip of my thighs.

It was as if someone was taking bumps in the ring with the way he was going, feeling every movement vibrate against my back and spine, ricocheting all over the place and making all of the pleasure ping around me and hit hard like a pinball machine.

There was no way I was going to get the chance to turn the tables and I didn’t want to. I wanted this and Matt blew my mind.

“I can’t understand you when you’re babbling like that,” Matt noted, wanting my words to express what was happening to my body.

My core coiled up like a spring, a spring that was ready to snap. It made my back arch harder on its own, almost making me sit up, but my body was also ready to collapse, keeping my shoulders down.

The heat was growing in the air thickly, making me overhear, breaking out in small sweats and with Matt going and going, his stamina showing no end, there was no running from the orgasm that lurked.

The squelching grew louder, deep groans rumbling in his chest from my walls pulsating, but there was no slowing him down.

“Matt!” I cried out loud, frantically grabbing him by the shoulders, needing his body for support, his heart pounding hard against my chest when gushing slick drenched his cock and thighs, making his cock pulsate, not daring to slow him down, delivering deep thrust and continuing to fuck me thoroughly.

There was no denying how good every part of it felt, but with all the heat trapped in my body, how my legs were shaking like hell, a faint ring in my ears when my chest stopped heaving, heartbeat echoing with a pound in my head.

With a faint wrist, I tapped his shoulder, holding his head that fell to my shoulder, kissing it with a smile, pinning his hips against mine to take a moment of his own to breathe.

The ring shook a little when he moved his knees, faintly giggling, “Your winner! Matt Jackson. Undefeated against Y/N!”

He was such a goof sometimes and I loved it, making me laugh hysterically when he added quickly, guilt in his voice, “Also, uhhhh, a new canvas is in this ring’s future.”

“Courtesy of Matt Jackson!” I huffed, mocking his announcer's voice.

He wasn’t done getting moans of out me yet, sharp whines falling from my lips when he sat up, slowly pulling out with a languid thrust, smiling into my eyes, “I think you and I should have more matches like these.”

“Oh yeah,” I grinned, blowing him a kiss, “I’m beating that undefeated streak of yours.”

[writing-in-april]

Cinematic Coincidences

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

(Spencer’s POV)- listen I just love his POV lol

Summary: Spencer can’t bring himself to go on another date that’s been set up for him- so he stands his date up. Spence seemingly can’t catch a break and runs into the date he stood up.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my seventh fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! This one was requested by @andiebeaword (I added a reference for your love of hallmark movies in this hehe)- this is the original request- I tweaked the characters involved just a small bit lol I accidentally end up defaulting to using the people on the dream team lol- im going to start working in later characters in the show into some stuff in upcoming works (I’m also rewatching the later seasons so that’ll help get me inspired) Im always looking for feedback on my fics or really to talk about anything with my followers so feel free to drop into my inbox- here!! Thanks for reading- y’all have been so sweet 🥰 and hope y’all enjoy!!

Warnings: Insecure Spencer, Getting stood up for on a date, Morgan and Garcia (just the team in general) not really understanding Spencer fully, one tiny sexual innuendo- I think that’s it nothing too bad this time around

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.4K

This was not what I wanted to be doing today. Garcia had once again inquired about my love life- along with Morgan of course, wanting to find out about all the juicy details. I didn’t know why they continued to ask when it was obvious that my love life was about as exciting as watching paint dry.

I gave my normal response to these types of inquiries, brushing them off without sounding too hurtful. Unfortunately Garcia would not be satiated by my response, apparently she was now fed up with my dull love life and felt like she needed to be personally involved. Garcia was very near and dear to me, just like Morgan, but I couldn’t deny that this grated my nerves.

“We’ll make you a dating profile too! Maybe you’ll find someone cute to date- or maybe get some?!” Garcia was chipper as usual, with her eyebrows wiggling at her suggestion that I should have a one night stand. All that I felt from her words was dread.

The dangers of online dating swirled in my mind and I tried to protest, it came out more like a stammer though. Morgan then patted me on the back and piped up, giving his own opinion, “Yeah- I think it’ll be good for you, pretty boy.”

Again I wanted to protest, beginning to stammer out another reason why I didn’t think it was a good idea. I sighed heavily when I was cut off again, by Morgan and Garcia already planning on what pictures they were going to upload of me. At least I knew that they had my best interests at heart, they wanted me to be happy with someone- or get some like Garcia had mentioned earlier. Still, it didn’t change the fact that there was no way I’d ever want to go willingly on a date with someone I had met on the internet.

—-

My thoughts had not changed since Morgan and Garcia had set up the dating profile for me. There hadn’t been any person I had been on a date with that had successfully been able to keep me interested beyond a few conversations.

“No luck with the online dating?” Morgan had teased when I had walked in with my head held low. This endeavor was just making me realize how picky and undesirable I was. Why couldn’t I just find someone pretty and be happy with it?

Morgan’s face twisted from a smile into a frown when I didn’t answer him, making my way silently to my desk.

For the rest of the day the team tiptoed around me, sensing my sadness. There was part of me that was angry at them for thinking that I couldn’t handle a few bad dates. But, they were right. I couldn’t handle the sting of rejection or the disappointment of a date that didn’t live up to my expectations.

Emily always seemed to know how to cheer me up, so I did attempt some small conversation in the break room while we were both getting our coffee. She never gave me any pity like the others who just flashed me sad looks, unwilling to make any effort to help- or like Garcia and Morgan, they helped in the wrong way even if their intentions were pure.

Her solution to my problem did make my ears perk up a bit, “Hey- I saw that you’ve been down and that it’s been about the online dating Morgan and Garcia made you get into.” I nodded my head in confirmation then gesturing for her to continue while I poured copious amounts of sugar into my drink. Emily opted for mostly cream instead of sugar, stirring her coffee a little, then continuing her thought,”I wondered how you would feel about being set up on a blind date. It’s someone I know so maybe that would make you feel better about going on it? Instead of having to deal with technology that I know you despise.”

Emily had a way of seeing exactly how I was feeling and not just spitting out facts without solutions like the others. Her solution made me nervous of course, there would probably never be a date that I wouldn’t be nervous for. However, this option made me feel a little bit more hopeful about my prospects in the dating pool. It was someone that she knew and trusted enough to suggest them as a potential match for a coworker. Emily didn’t trust easy, I could trust her judgment on this despite my nerves.

I gulped down a large sip of my overly sweetened coffee, collecting my thoughts before then answering, “Alright- I’ll go.”

—

The date that I was supposed to go on was at a quaint cafe near work. Emily had even made the effort to make sure that I had been there before so I might be more comfortable.

At first I had been extremely excited for the date, even going so far as to pick out my outfit. I would have worn my purple button up, that was the one I got the most compliments in. Emily had told me some stuff that my date was interested in so I made sure to brush up on my knowledge by reading about the topics. I had even called back to the restaurant menu in my mind, preparing myself by picking out what I wanted beforehand. On one of my dates set up through the dating app I had stumbled on my choice for food, making the person unnecessarily snappy. I had to cover all my bases to minimize potential awkwardness on my part.

Self doubt began to creep in after I had gotten fully dressed. I had gotten ready way too early in anticipation for the date, now sitting on my couch tapping my foot impatiently. I looked at my watch that sat over my long sleeves watching the clock tick closer and closed to when I was supposed to leave.

Biting my lip in worry, my mind couldn’t help but wander over into my self doubts. I couldn’t help but ask myself why anyone would want to date someone as tall and lanky as me- or why would someone want to go on a date with someone that couldn’t keep their mouth shut about random topics that no one cared about.

My self doubt swallowed any confidence that I had begun to build up in preparation for the date. I knew Emily would be furious with me tomorrow when I went into work, I didn’t want her to find out through her friend though. Deciding to get it over with I pulled out the phone I never used and texted her, telling her that I wasn’t coming. I told her to give my regrets to my date, who at this point was probably waiting patiently for me at the cafe. Sighing in defeat I then retreated into my bedroom again, crawling under my covers.

——

Emily hadn’t been furious with me- well that was a lie, at first she had stomped up to me the next morning to chew me out. She became more disappointed than anything when she found out my reasonings. She hadn’t mentioned anything about how the person I was supposed to be going on the blind date with felt. Not that I really wanted to hear about it, it would only make me feel worse. All I got from her was a small remark mumbled under her breath, “Idiots- the both of you…”

For the next few weeks I tried in vain to push thoughts of my failed blind date out of my head. I had avoided going in the general direction of the cafe. Luckily I took the metro everyday to work otherwise I’d have to drive by it every day, and I already hated driving.

I was at the bookstore for used booksjust around the corner from the cafe that was supposed to hold my date a few weeks ago. This was the closest I dared to go near it in a while. Since then I hadn’t been able to go there anymore, even though I loved the coffee there. Immense guilt had wormed its way into my brain when I had tried to order something there a week ago. All I had done was stammer at the cashier before bolting out of there, just another addition on the list of embarrassing things that I’ve done in my life.

I was flipping through an old edition of pride and prejudice out of boredom, there hadn’t been anything interesting stocked on the shelves since I had last been here. Then a voice piped up through the air that had a bit of dust flying through it,

“Excuse me, sir- if you’re still looking at that book would you mind if I looked at the ones on the shelf behind you?”

It took me a second before I realized the person was talking to me. I then removed my eyes from the book to blink up at them a few times, then registering what they had said to me and moved out of the way.

Their eyes were still glued to mine, the bookshelf behind me that they had wanted to look at forgotten. An awkward chuckle was all we both could seem to manage as we looked each other up and down. Emily had shown me a picture on her phone of my date so I would have been able to spot them at the restaurant. My cheeks flushed hard once I realized who was standing before me. There was no doubt who this was, the date I had stood up the night before.

Silence then fell between us and not the pleasant kind, it was most definitely awkward. I couldn’t imagine how they must have been feeling after I hadn’t shown up last night. They probably had sat

“Um- hi…” They spoke hesitantly, wringing their fingers in trepidation. My jaw opened and closed a few times, trying to come up with anything to say.

“Hi!” Was all I could manage to squeak out, plus a small wave in their direction.

They wrung their fingers a few more times, seemingly trying to come up with a response. I was surprised they hadn’t hit me with one of the books near them out of anger. It would be a normal response to being stood up for a date, the trepidation and silence just served to unnerve me further. Eventually they spoke again, saving me from anymore awkward silence which in my opinion was worse than awkward conversation, “Um- sorry for um, standing you up uh- a few weeks ago.”

That made my eyes bug out of my head- they had done the exact same thing as I had? Insecurity soon swept in, trying to tell me exactly why they had not shown up without hearing their side of the story. I looked down at the book I was holding, reading a few words for a moment of reprieve. Taking a deep breath I asked quietly, not admitting to my own faults yet, “W-why did you um- not go? If you don’t mind me asking…”

A deep sigh was what I got at first, one that obviously had a lot of stress in it. They then did provide me with an explanation, despite their obvious embarrassment, Well- It had nothing to do with you- a simple explanation would be saying it was my insecurity’s fault.”

Not that I would ever want anyone to feel insecure, but I would admit that them saying that did make my own stress melt away. They had not gone for almost the exact same reasons that me. I decided to be upfront, giving them my own reasoning- though I wasn’t even sure they realized that I hadn’t gone as well. “I don’t know if Emily told you, but I um- stood you up as well. It wasn’t because of anything bad! It was really for the same reason as you.”

They then broke out into giggles after they had processed my words for a second, which were much more relaxed than the awkward ones from before. I didn’t blame them, it was a pretty funny coincidence that we’d both stand each other up only to run into each other not knowing what we had done.

“I feel like we’re in one of those cheesy Hallmark movies right now…” Their comparison only confused me, I had no clue what they were talking about.

“What’s a Hallmark movie?” More giggles came from them at my questioning, though for once I didn’t feel like I was being laughed at. I felt like they were laughing at the whole situation, not at me specifically like so many people had often done. Also, I couldn’t help but admit to myself that their giggle was very cute.

Once their giggles had subsided a little they asked me something that almost no one would ask the person that had stood them up, “Maybe I could tell you over a coffee? If you want to of course- Emily told me about how much sugar you like in it.”

My interest was peaked, making me further regret having stood them up in the first place. Though I tried to push that thought out of the way considering we had both done the same thing. It was time to let that go so I could go on a date with them finally. Seeing them in person and being able to glimpse part of their personality made me want to know more.

“Alright- sure.” I set down the book I had been passively reading, now completely disinterested in it. There was something far more interesting in front of me now compared to a classic book I had read over ten times.

We both walked around the corner, to the cafe that we had originally had our date scheduled at. Conversation flowed easily between us, showing me that Emily had been totally right to set us up initially. Her words now made sense to me, we were both a couple of idiots.

We then got our coffee, which had been much smoother of a transaction compared to the last time I had been here. I took note of how much sugar and cream they liked, just in case we were going to do this again. Sitting down at the closest booth I then asked, “So tell me about Hallmark movies?”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (Message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith 😡😡😡

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey