#but i'm still bitter about everything else

[eskir]

pining from a glided cage - sunday x reader

he watches you with a dull ache in his chest and handcuffs to duty - unrequited love on sunday's part

wc: 808 a/n talks: soft sunday w/angst :D got the idea from @eternity-death and i vibed with it a lot. also i'm proud of my first tag (please say yes)

Penacony can only be called the land of dreams, for the sole reason that it is in ones dreams. It will never be the land of fulfilled dreams, never the land where wishes come to fruition. Because even as life slumbers, nightmares run amok and bitter pieces of reality infest dreams, leaving the conscious person choking and gasping for breath.

But Sunday cannot awaken from the dream, so he is left watching you with an impassive face and hidden heart pains from a glided view. He loves you. He cannot say the words that dare to burst from his traitorous lips, nor can he express the sweet pains that reside in his chest. He is an administrator, the head of the Oak family, and he is bound by decorum, order, and the rules imposed upon him by the Dreammaster. He lacks control, so he craves it in everything he can hold in the palm of his insignificant hand. He is bound to Penacony, and he realizes that Robin, his dear sister, spoke uncomfortably bitter truth.

"Brother, I am leaving Penacony. A lavish yet empty cage that I have to leave, but I will miss it nevertheless. I hope you make it out of there, or at the very least, walk in reality."

But he cannot bear to leave Penacony, not when so much is expected of him as the head, not when the Dreammaster oversees almost every move of his, not when you reside in the place he can only call a home because of you.

For if you were no longer in Penacony, he would have nothing joyous holding him back. He would languish apathetically for all the Golden Hours, unable to pursue his dreams. So he makes sure to cherish the moments he has with you, knowing that you could leave at any moment like Robin did.

(he'll hold onto you with a tight desperate grip that he knows is unacceptable. he doesn't want to lose anyone else that's important to him. and even though robin is still alive, she is too far away and the presence of her letters only tears his heart up more.)

So whenever you visit him, bringing sweet treats that you know he'll like, talking about parts of your life, Sunday will listen. He always listens with that soft gaze that could almost make you believe that he is in love with you. He is, but that is a point you'll never acknowledge or realize. Sunday knows that, he can tell when you talk about someone you are clearly enamored with.

He's listened to you for a long enough time that he knows your tells. So when you talk about someone else that isn't him in a romantic light, he freezes. His smile becomes a little more forced, and he closes his eyes to hide the uncomfortable emotions that are swirling in them. In those moments, he misses you. Even though you are right in front of him, he aches for the old you and for Robin. You three would just run throughout the Dreamscape with no worries as children. He misses you even though you're right in front of him. He aches to reach out for your face and kiss your forehead gently.

But he can't, he has to restrain himself from any action that could be misconstrued as affectionate. He cannot do anything but drown in his emotions because that is what the Dreammaster ordered of him. The Dreammaster disapproves of him acting on his feelings because he must 'act accordingly' and 'not be distracted from his duties'. It's suffocating that he cannot reach out for your hand or your kind touch.

(he just craves you. he craves your presence and smile. he'd never have either of the two if you weren't close friends, but the proximity to you just makes his heart ache even more. he lets you touch his wings, even though he knows you only love him as a friend. he lets you, enjoys it even, with you play with his hair, commenting on how soft it is. he wishes that it was because you truly did love him, but it's just how you are, naturally affectionate. so he feigns the neutrality of a long term friend.)

So he smiles whenever you met up. His eyes always light up when you bring new sweet treats and you always laugh at his expression good-naturedly. It's a comfortable relationship that the two of you have, and when night falls, he'll always wish for your happiness.

(he just wishes that you'll never fall in love with anyone but him. he wishes that you won't fall in love with him because he cannot love you back and he doesn't want to reject you.)

Just like Robin, you are a star that he revolves around, never getting closer or further away.

[gelly-fsh]

Doing that Dr. Who scene but with Jegulus because I remembered I have hands and free will

TW: mentions of torture

___________________/////___________________

When James was suddenly captured while finishing an errand for the Order, he knew he was going to die.

It was a bitter truth, but a truth nonetheless. The Order of the Phoenix didn't do rescue missions, they did not have the enough manpower to even consider it, so even if his friends and family begged Dumbledore on their knees, he knew it would be futile, so now the only thing he could do was to wait for his demise.

It was strange, if he thinks about it. The errand was an insignificant one, he was not supposed to encounter any Death Eaters because he just needed to take some documents to the Ministry, but before he could put a foot in the building, someone stunned him from behind, and then everything went black for a while.

Now that he's awake, confused about how much time has passed, he is trying to make sense of where he was left in. It was clearly a study, but it was pulsating constantly with the dark magic that came off all the cursed objects that were neatly piled in the shelfs beside him. The body bind he was still on didn't let him see much, but he had little time to wonder about anything else as he heard multiple footsteps entering the room.

"Finally, it seems you're awake now" even if he couldn't see him, James recognized the haughty and embarrassingly nasal voice of one if his captors.

"Snivellius, I'm not glad to see you" James replied

"The sentiment is mutual, believe me"

"Lets get this started Severus" a man said, and when he stood in front of James, he could identify him as Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Who are you?" Rodolphus asked

"Go fuck yourself" James replied fiercely. Rodolphus remained unfazed, but when he looked at someone behind James, he felt the hairs of his neck stand in alert, and then he felt it.

"Crucio!"

The pain was blinding. Sirius and even Regulus once told him how it felt to withstand the pain of this unforgivable, how you feel like you have been stabbed and electrocuted in all places at the same time, but no amount of descriptions would have prepared him for the real thing.

It was like that for a while. James refused to answer questions, and the crucioed him, until Rodolphus apparently grew bored of his suffering and just ordered Snape to make him chug down a clear liquid.

"Your name" Rodolphus asked again

"James Potter" he said easily, way too easily, and that when it hit him. Veritaserum.

"Where is Regulus Black now?" Now that question was weird, because Regulus? Why would they inquire specifically about his whereabouts? He is on their side no?

"I haven't the faintest idea" he gritted out, his voice a bit raw from his screaming

"Is that credible?"

"Well, it's true isn't it?" James answered plainly

"Did he leave any objects with you recently?" Snape asked next

"No he didn't" he replied easily again, did Regulus robbed this people or something?

"You're the man he loves no?" Now that questions hurted a lot

"No I'm not" saying it now is not easier than saying it a year ago, when the realization was still fresh, but instead of a bleeding cut, James just feels a throbbing pain that he has become accostumed between the space of his ribs, constant but familiar.

"He is lying!" Snape snarled, looking at Rodolphus, as if he was trying to wordlessly explain his mistake

"Regulus Black does not, and has never, loved me" James was almost glad for the Veritaserum, as it made all the information come out more easily, his mind unable to keep up with the truths his tongue spilled.

It doesn't mean the echoes of his truth didn't scratch the scab that was slowly covering his heart, leaving the wound bleeding and raw, just the exact same way Regulus left it the night he left his life for good.

"You know I'm not lying, you know I am incapable to do so right now" James doesn't know how wise it is to talk back this much to his captors, but he knew he was getting killed anyways, so he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cower.

"This is some kind of trick then, there is no way"

"There is no trick" James replied

"My information is correct. I know for a fact you are the man who loves Regulus Black"

"Yes I am, I've never denied it" James said simply, because even after everything, that was one of the only parts James knew he would never change about himself, no matter how hard he tried "But who told you he ever loved me back Snape?" He breathed, and he loved Regulus. He would die soon, loving him still.

"He is Regulus Black" James knew he was getting overworked over this, but this would be the last chance he had to talk about this, so he decided to take it "He doesn't go around falling in love with people. And if you think he would fall so low to be swayed for something like that, you are never getting whatever he took from you back"

"Sir, I assure you he is the perfect bait! If Black finds out he is in danger, he will come to his aid" Snape started to ramble, but James was started to get tired of all this charade.

"Oh, you are but a bloody moron" James sneered "He will not come, you're wasting your time"

"I can assure you Sir, that perhaps he is inside the mansion right now, looking for an opportunity to strike" Snape added

"Well go on and scan the whole bloody mansion then!" James raged "you will find nothing because he is not here"

"Merlin knows where he is right now. But I promise you, he is doing whatever the hell he planned and not giving a single damn about me!" James words flowed out like a stream of water, it flooded his senses, his emotions, he was drowning in the love he had for Regulus that he didnt want to receive or to give back, and everything just felt too much all over again.

"He will not come for me, and I'm fine with that" he sighed, feeling exhausted and defeated, the crucios and the thought of Regulus slowly draining all the fight and bravado he had left

"When you love Regulus, it's like loving the stars themselves! You don't expect a sunset to admire you back" he growled furiously, with hot tears threatening to spill off his eyes "And if I happened to find myself in danger like now, let me tell you Regulus is not stupid enough or sentimental enough-" he needed to take a breath, or a hundred "and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me!"

"This has gotten utterly ridiculous. Snape, you will be punished later for waisting my time, but right now let's just put an end to this quickly, ge doesnt know anything and he admitted to being useless" James could see Rodolphus' distaste in his eyes, how they scanned James as if he were a dirty bug "Dolohov, raise him a little, let's finish this quickly"

He was easily manhandled into the correct position so his whole chest was exposed, James didn't even fight it, afraid that if he did they would not let him die peacefully otherwise.

Even with all the mental preparation, James was not ready to die. At that moment he realized how young and truly inexperienced he really was, a pawn in in a war he didn't cause that was deprived of all the things he should have rightfully lived before, all all the things he had still to live but wouldn't be able to anymore.

Even after everything, even while knowing that Regulus' lack of love for him was part of the reason his life was gonna get cut short, James did not had in within himself to regret it, to regret him.

A million years or just one second could pass, and James would never regret loving that boy.

With him mind set and his conscience at peace, he set his chin high and threw a challenging stare at Rodolphus Lestrange, not moving an inch but quickly closing his eyes afterwards.

"Im sorry" he whispered, and he didnt know to who he was apologizing at all.

His last thought would be Regulus smile.

"Avada -" Suddlenly, Rodolphus started to make a gargled sound before it stopped, and James heard a loud thud falling in the carpet that made him open his eyes in pure astonishment.

Before him was Rodolphus, and he was dead.

"What in Salazar's name-" Dolohov started, just to quickly start doing the same frantic noises Rodolphus made before dropping on the floor too. Snape had a terrified expression while he looked behind James, almost like he had seen a ghost for the first time.

"Please, spare me, Re-" Snape couldn't even finish his begging, because suddenly his head was turned in a funny angle before falling on the floor too.

James didn't want to see, even if a part of him felt a sense of vindictive justice over the fact that his captors were all dead, he didnt know who the culprit was, so James just prepared himself to be murdered by a different hand now.

Until he heard a voice

"Hello, Mon Soleil"

Mon Soleil, that was a nickname he hasn't heard in a while, more than a year if he wanted to be more precise. That nickname took him back to happier times, to happier memories, and it inevitably took him back to the boy that was the reason for it. James opened his eyes at last.

"What are you doing here?" James asked, feeling a bit breathless at the sight of Regulus crouched in front of him "You're not supposed to be here"

"You were in danger, so I came" Regulus was raising his hand, seemingly to cup James face, but even if James yearned to feel Regulus touch against his skin, the piercing pain in his heart and his whole body made him flinch away from his hand

"Why would you do that?" James was not understanding anything at the moment, everything was a blurry of emotions and Veritaserum and so so much confusion that he was sure he sounded pathetic. Nonetheless, Regulus' gaze turned into something softer, and to James surprise, something filled with regret.

"You would never do that, at least certainly not for me" James followed, his whole body was trembling between the pain of the curses and the heartbreak. "I was thinking about you before I died, so maybe I did die and youre just here to make afterlife easier" James muttered, trembling, trembling, trembling.

"James, look at me." The Regulus-thats-not-Regulus said, expression pained "It is me. I came here for you, just for you mon Soleil" it was too much, and nothing was making any sense at all

"STOP!" James screamed "don't use that name. He used to call me that. Don't use that name. Don't-"

"Jamie, I'm so sorry" Regulus said desperately "I'm so so sorry, I will answer all of your questions when we are safe, but we need to leave right now, we need to go"

James eyes tried to concentrate on this Regulus' face, on the soft curls he threaded his hands on multipletimes, the eyes that he lost himself in, the freckles that marred his porcelain skin, everything he could. He knew he looked crazy, but he was trying to absorb all of Regulus that he missed the year they were apart. Even if common sense told him to not go with him, that there was no way Regulus was actually there, all sense of reason always left him whenever he was near, so he slowly reached to take Regulus extended hand, and when their palms united, James felt complete again after so long of being left half empty.

Regulus took his palm with a softness that felt familiar and foreign at the same time as he slowly rised it to him lips, kissing his knuckles softly with a heartfelt "Im sorry" to accompany it.

"Im going to need more than that" James said, his whole arm burned but his mind was clearing from the panicked fog by the second "but that shall wait, let's go"

They had a lot to talk about, Regulus had a lot to explain, but they had to get out of here first.

[spideysensings]

this is officially a najma hate club. killing aisha. leaving kamran behind. repeatedly attacking kamala. trying to destroy the world. yes i know it's complicated but this is still officially a najma hate club.

[countess-of-edessa]

the world is so fucked up and i can't help but think the damage is irreparable when i see people talking about how unusual and prudish it is to wait six to ten dates before having sex with someone. ten dates??? roughly like twenty five hours of interaction????? ten old timer burgers and mango iced teas from chilis equals sex?????? the possibility of pregnancy, STDs, emotional devastation, lifelong consequences, not to mention just straight up the possibility of getting murdered, with a STRANGER you have hung out with for maybe like two months???? and that's a LONG TIME???? and if you feel weird about that and don't want to do that that makes you NOT HETEROSEXUAL????? THATS AN ORIENTATION???? BECAUSE ITS SO OUTSIDE OF THE NORM OF HUMAN BEHAVIOR ????? i hate all of you i hate you i hate you i hate you every day i hate and I hate and I hate you

[astrangergivingthestrangewelcome]

1930s newspaper editor voice: Sorry kid Arthur Holmwood just don't sell fanfictions

[jennyandvastraflint]

Oh wow. Disney cancelled Willow. Y'know. The. Butch4butch lesbians. Knight and Princess. Fucking amazing rep, brilliant fantasy setting. Fabulous storytelling.

Yeah. I'm not surprised..... I remember seeing a clip weeks before I started it and immediately wondering how long it'd take zo have the confirmation it's cancelled. I'm just so tired. Every. Time. And I mean EVERY time we have sapphic representation on a show, it gets cancelled, censored, or receives massive backlash. I can't name a SINGLE wlw rep (centric!!!) show that wasn't cancelled. Doctor Who, maybe. Wow. One.

I can name at least ten shows that were cancelled off the top of my head. In the last year. I'm tired.

Fuck Disney. Fuck Netflix. Fuck every single person who cancels wlw rep. We constantly hear that our stories don't want to be heard. Thanks. Apparently queer women only matter as a fetishised form of entertainment for men or as a background and side character. Thanks. Definitely does GREAT things for people's self-worth.

Representation matters!

[running-in-the-dark]

had one very short interaction with my mother-in-law and once again I think I won't get through living here until the end of March :)

[tiger-moran]

You know it's extremely (further) alienating when you see stuff that says basically

nobody actually feels like they're trapped in the wrong body and that's just shit made up by the medical profession

and thousands and thousands of people are agreeing with that and saying yeah that's totally their experience of being trans

when I literally am trapped in the wrong body and I'm never going to be seen as the gender I actually am and I'm never going to be able to do things I could have done if I had been born with the right body and I'm never going to not hate this body or not see it as wrong, and this kills me

[vanteguccir]

Speak Now | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where it's Y/N's wedding day, but Matt isn't the groom. During the ceremony, an act of impulse on the boy's part changes the fate of everything.

Warning: Slightly angst, but with a happy ending!

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The cool orange color of the corner lamp lightly illuminated the walls of Matt's room, painting the room with a serene aura. He was still in his bed, mentally preparing himself to get up and start the day slowly, his thoughts still hazy from sleep, a low voice reminding him of the tasks he had to do - writing the script for the next video, answering emails, and posting his collaboration with Prada.

For a moment, he allowed himself to bask in the feeling of tranquility, but that peace was abruptly interrupted when the sound of his bedroom door slamming open echoed through the walls.

Matt turned abruptly to the source of the sound, frowning and opening his mouth to curse whoever had barged into his room so suddenly, but the words caught in his throat when he saw Nick standing there, his eyes wide and his hand holding an envelope tightly.

"Nick, what the fuck?" Matt's voice sounded hoarse and rough from lack of use as his eyes traveled from Nick's face to the envelope and back again.

"Matt... It's from Y/N." Nick muttered apprehensively.

The boy sat down abruptly on the mattress when he heard his ex name, watching Nick slowly approaching and leaving the envelope on the crumpled comforter that covered the younger boy's legs.

"I don't know what it's about, I just found it on the floor in front of the front door."

Matt took the paper delicately, a feeling of apprehension growing in his chest as he recognized Y/N's elegant handwriting on the sender, his own name, and his brother's in the recipient field. His mind wondered why she had sent that, who even sends letters through mail in 2024?

With shaking hands, he tore open the envelope and removed the paper inside, barely noticing Nick's silent exit. His heart sank when he noticed that it wasn't just any paper. It was an invitation... a wedding invitation.

The words printed in embossed letters and in gold color on high quality paper, announcing the day she would become the wife of her current boyfriend, or rather, fiancé.

An overwhelming mix of emotions hit him head-on. Matt gasped, holding the invitation as if it were a precious artifact, but also a knife that pierced his heart. He could feel the bitter taste of regret filling his mouth as his memories with Y/N ​​flooded his mind.

He found himself transported back to the happy days when they were together, each moment shining in vivid colors before his eyes. The shared laughter, the hugs on cold or hot nights, the whispered promises of eternal love... Everything seemed so close, and yet so far away.

Tears threatened to flood his eyes as he struggled to process the magnitude of the situation. He bitterly regretted letting Y/N go, letting his insecurities and fears ruin what they shared. He knew he had no one else to blame but himself for his own loneliness.

A violent internal struggle unfolded within the boy. A part of him wanted to throw the invitation through the window, refuse to witness the ceremony that would tear him up even more inside. But another part, a stubborn and masochistic part, insisted on attending, as if seeing Y/N unite with another man was the punishment he deserved for his failures.

Matt clutched the invitation tightly in his hand, lightly crumpling the expensive paper, feeling fragile and broken. Every beat of his heart echoed with the weight of a decision he didn't know if he was capable of making. He felt the weight of loss pressing down on his shoulders, the pain of a wound that never seemed to heal.

Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as he fought his emotions in turmoil. He loved Y/N more than anything in this world, and even though he had already lost her the day he saw her walk through his bedroom door for the last time, he still held on to the narrow thread of hope he had in him, but now he was in danger of losing her forever, and it tormented him to the core of his soul.

With an anguished sigh, Matt finally let out a choked sob, pressing his hand against his mouth to muffle the ugly sounds, quickly glancing at the door left ajar by Nick. The last thing he wanted was to worry his brothers.

He knew he had no choice but to face the painful reality that Y/N would move on without him. He wished, with all his being, that things could have been different, that he could go back in time and right the wrongs he had made.

But now, all he could do was accept the invitation he held in his trembling hand and prepare to witness the love of his life being given to someone else.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt took a deep breath as he, along with his brothers, entered the imposing church where Y/N's wedding was about to take place. The decor details seemed to jump out, a lush fusion of fresh flowers - Y/N's favorite - and delicate fabrics, creating a fairytale atmosphere, exactly as he and Y/N had fantasized about for so many nights.

The rows of chairs were lined up precisely, each adorned with a floral arrangement. Matt watched the carefully planned details, feeling a pang in his heart.

As he rotated his gaze around the space, his eyes met Y/N's parents accompanied by her fiancé, who was already looking back at the triplets. Matt's eyes widened slightly when he noticed the man open a gentle smile towards him, a strange feeling of resignation and envy flooding him almost automatically.

Victor, who he saw so much of only through Y/N's social media, was tall, with slightly curly brown hair that shone in the light, and vibrant blue eyes that seemed to reflect genuine joy. Matt couldn't help but notice how he perfectly fit the stereotype of the type of man Y/N always seemed to prefer - an observation that left a sour taste in his mouth.

The boy wondered if Y/N really had a specific type or if it was just a coincidence that he and her fiancé shared similar characteristics.

He forced himself to look away, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions and his heart screaming that he should just turn around and go back home. With a resigned sigh, Matt followed his brothers as they found their assigned seats.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt's heart was in turmoil as he anxiously awaited the long-awaited moment of the bride's entrance. His eyes darted nervously around the church, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to control the flood of thoughts that threatened to consume him.

And then, as if time had slowed down, soft music filled the air, announcing Y/N's arrival. His breath seemed to catch as he saw her appear in the aisle, a glimpse of ethereal beauty in her stunning wedding dress. His heart was filled with a mix of joy and pain when he saw her so perfect.

Matt thought he would only see her in a wedding dress on their own wedding day.

Tears threatened to blur his vision as he fought to hold them back. He wanted to scream from the rooftops and release all his pent-up anger, but his words were lost in the void of his silent anguish.

"Matt, are you okay?" Chris asked beside him in an almost muted whisper, only receiving a short nod in return.

As she approached the altar, Matt felt his leg begin to bounce involuntarily in a mixture of anxiety and hesitation. Every step she took seemed to sound like an echo in his own broken heart, a constant reminder of what could have been but would never be.

He had to do something.

When Y/N finally reached the foot of the altar, Matt clenched his right hand into a fist tightly, his teeth biting his thumbnail in a desperate attempt to contain whatever was wanting to come out. He watched with a lump in his throat as she and Victor turned face-to-face, everything sounding muffled against his ears.

He had to.

Every word spoken was like a knife in his heart. He wondered if Y/N could feel the intensity of his emotions, if she could see the love and sadness mixed in his eyes as her own eyes circled the room momentarily, carrying a mix of nervousness and anxiety.

Silence hung in the church, heavy and dense, as the priest finished his solemn last words.

"If anyone has anything to say against this union, speak now or forever remain silent." Finally came the phrase so feared and long awaited.

The priest's voice echoed through the sacred space, resounding off the walls as the guests held their breath. Matt felt his heart hammer in his chest, almost hearing it in his ears, a tumultuous mix of fear and determination swirling in his mind.

He needed to.

And then, before he could think twice, before he could stop the urge that welled up inside him, Matt stood up. His body acted on instinct, his chair scraping with a harsh sound against the floor at the abrupt movement of his body.

The loud sound cut through the silence like a knife, causing the guests to turn to his figure in shock, eyes wide in horror. The priest raised his eyebrows in surprise, his words frozen on his lips as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes.

Victor, Y/N's fiancé, looked at Matt with flaming hatred in his eyes, a completely different expression than the one he displayed moments before the ceremony. He knew who Matt was, and he knew Matt would mean trouble for him.

But Matt ignored all of this. At that moment, all that mattered was Y/N. His blue eyes brimming with fear and love looked intensely into Y/N's shocked ones, who seemed frozen in place.

"I-I..." Y/N began, clearing her throat and turning to face the sea of ​​guests. "I need a moment."

And then, without waiting for a response or further intervention, Y/N got down from the altar and turned around, starting to run towards the back of the church. Her footsteps echoed in the silence with the click of her high heels against the floor, each beat of her heart matching the frantic pace of her run.

"Matt!" Nick called through gritted teeth, quickly glancing at the people around him as he raised his right hand, holding Matt's wrist tightly. "Sit down, now."

Matt barely had time to process what was happening before his instincts took over again, pulling his wrist from Nick's grip quickly. He ignored the confused murmurs of the guests accompanying him as he ran after Y/N.

He had to reach her, had to find a way to explain himself, to convince her to listen. He couldn't let her go without a fight, not after everything he had risked.

Matt's feet pounded the church floor as he ran, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He barely noticed Victor's screams echoing behind him, barely noticed the dirty looks that glared at his back as he chased the only love he'd ever had. All that mattered was reaching Y/N, holding her hand, and never letting it go again.

Matt pushed open the back doors of the church hard, his mind spinning in a whirlwind as he prepared to face whatever was on the other side.

He was expecting the worst - a furious face, eyes full of rage, cutting words thrown his way. But what he found was the complete opposite of that.

Y/N's figure was there, just a few feet away. She held her heels in one of her hands, her veil was lying on the floor next to her bare feet, and her beautiful dress was rumpled, but there was a huge smile on her face, and her eyes showed an intense relief.

Matt frowned in confusion, his own mind in turmoil as he tried to process what was happening. The boy expected her to confront him, to blame him for interrupting her perfect day, for destroying her dreams. But not that.

Before he could do anything, Y/N dropped her heels onto the delicate veil before running towards him, her steps quick and purposeful. She stopped before Matt, her eyes shining with an intensity that left him speechless.

Without hesitation, the girl raised her hands towards his face, cupping his red, hot cheeks, her fingers touching his skin with a tenderness that made him shiver. And then, so suddenly, she pulled him towards her, her lips meeting his in a deep, desperate kiss.

Matt felt the world disappear around him as he gave himself over to the gesture, all his questions slipping from his mind, his hands finding their place around Y/N's waist almost automatically, as if it was marked into his soul.

He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the soft touch of her lips against his own, and Matt had never, until that moment, truly understood how much he missed that.

Matt's lips gently parted from Y/N's seconds later, his eyes remained fixed on her face, as if trying to decipher a complex riddle. He felt the euphoria of the moment still pulsing through his veins, but a sense of confusion was still mixed with the intensity of it all.

"I... I don't understand." The boy murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to find the right words to express the whirlwind of thoughts that assaulted him.

Y/N shook her head, a soft smile still playing on his lips. She pulled away slightly, maintaining eye contact with Matt.

"I know this is all very confusing." She began, her voice soft and comforting. "But I'm so happy, Matt. So happy and relieved that you're here."

Matt's confusion deepened even further as he took in her words. He couldn't understand how she could be so serene and happy after everything that happened and what he did with her special date.

The boy felt a weight on his shoulders and an immense desire to look behind his shoulders towards the door, feeling as if someone would open it at any moment and expose them to the public.

"When I sent the invitation." Y/N continued. "I felt scared. Scared that you wouldn't show up, that you would choose not to be here. But deep down, I knew you would come. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Her words hit the brunette like a wave of comforting heat. He watched her intensely, his racing heart overflowing with love as goosebumps ran through his whole body.

"Don't get me wrong, Victor is an amazing guy, but... Matt, he's not you. He never was. No one will ever be you." She unbuttoned her lace sleeves before rolling them up, ripping off the flower that was attached to the fake belt at her waist and throwing it over her heels.

She really was something.

"Y/N-"

"Run away with me?

Y/N's suggestion left Matt speechless. His body remained static as his eyes stared at her, his orbs filled with shock and disbelief. He never imagined that she could suggest something so radical.

"Matt, please, we have to go. Run away with me."

A smirk slowly grew onto Matt's face before he took her right hand in his, pulling her close tightly and picking her up in one quick movement, his right arm supporting her back and his hand gripping her waist tightly, while his left arm held her legs beneath her knees, pressing her against his body.

A squeal escaped Y/N's throat, who wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her hands on the back of his head tightly, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder, a loud laughter passing through her lips.

"You're unbelievable, pretty girl... Come on, let's go."

So glad you were around when they said: Speak Now.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

[moonstruckme]

Olá, adorei sua escrita, peço desculpas por quaisquer erros de digitação (inglês não é minha primeira língua).

Gostaria de solicitar algo com poly!marauders reagindo a eles no meio de alguma discussão, e quando levantam a voz ou fazem alguma movimento repentino ela apenas se encolhe de medo

(só escreva se você se sentir confortável com isso, peço desculpas se for um assunto delicado)

No worries, sweetness! I worry I don't communicate this very well on my requests page, but so long as any abuse is in the past and not still happening while the story takes place, I'm totally good! Thank you so much for requesting, hope you enjoy it <3

cw: implied past abuse

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Your face is burning hot, and you’re hoping no one can tell it’s from how hard you’re working to hold back tears. 

“I’m telling you,” James says with a severity that doesn’t suit him, “they’re not good for you. You need to stop hanging around them.” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” You wave him off, relieved that your voice comes out as even as it does. “They’re my friends.” 

“They don’t fucking act like your friends.” Sirius is looking at you like you’re stupid, and you try not to tremble in the face of his anger. Every muscle in your body had tensed at the first show of frustration, an exasperated huff from Remus nearly ten minutes ago, and it’s only gotten worse since. You know, logically, that this situation doesn’t call for fight-or-flight, but there’s no telling your nervous system that. “They left you drunk and completely alone in the middle of the night. They’re assholes.” 

“What, just because you don't like them?” You glower at Sirius from across the room, and James shakes his head disappointedly from the couch. “You don’t get to dictate who I hang out with!”

“You’re completely blind to it!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“That’s enough!” Remus roars, and everything else ceases to matter. 

Your shoulders hunch in to protect your middle, one hand coming up in front of your face instinctively as your eyes squeeze shut. 

It’s only an instant of terror, shooting through your nerves like a lightning strike, and then your heart starts beating again, now at double time. You raise your head to find Remus looking cracked open, mouth parted in silent shock and anguish. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, holding up your hands as if to ward off the effects of what you’ve just done. You’re trembling all over. “I’m sorry, that was—I didn’t mean to.” 

“Sweetheart.” James starts to reach for you, then stops, wrapping his arms around his torso like he’ll lunge for you if not restrained. His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it over your own heartbeat. “Don’t apologize, please. Are you okay?” 

You nod, fighting the urge to shake out the adrenaline still working its way through your body. “Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to react like that. It wasn’t you guys, I’m sorry.” A traitorous tear skids down your face. You brush it away. 

“No.” The word sounds like it’s hooked from inside Remus’ throat and scraped forcibly out. “I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m so sorry.” He looks at you, eyes imploring. “Do you wanna sit down?”

“I’m fine,” you say again. 

“Angel.” James’ eyebrows come together in pity. “You’re shaking all over. Come sit, we don’t have to fight anymore.” 

You blow out a frustrated breath, ignoring the warm wetness on your cheeks as more tears escape. “I’m not—I don’t want to stop fighting just because of this. I feel like I’m manipulating you,” you say, tone edged with bitterness. “I’m not trying to, though. Can we just forget that happened?”

“Hey,” Sirius says, uncharacteristically firm, “stop that.” You’d been afraid to make eye contact with him before, but now you turn to find he’s looking at you like you’ve clawed his heart right out. You’re all the more miserable for it, for the pain you know you’re dredging up for him. You both have experience with raised voices and forceful gesturing. Both harbor old and unreliable notions about what those lead to, instincts you can’t shed. “You can’t manipulate us by accident, understand? You don’t always have control over reactions to things like that. Just…” His forehead creases with a helplessness you recognize. “Just take a breath.” 

He waits, eyes boring into yours, until you do. It shakes on the way out, but it feels good. 

“Okay. Do you want a hug?”

Your throat clogs so no words can pass through, but you nod, and Sirius steps toward you. His arms come around you slow but solid, feeling out how much you want. You press your face the juncture of his shoulder and his neck, hands clutching at his back, and he tightens his grip on you. Under your hand, you can feel his heart beating almost as desperately as yours. 

Sirius doesn’t quite release you as he walks the both of you to the couch, folding you into his lap, but you pull away once your tremors ease. James looks miserable with worry, and you take his hand, squeezing reassuringly. “I didn’t mean to scare you guys,” you say. It’s as close to an apology as you expect they’ll allow you. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Remus insists. “I mean it, I shouldn’t have raised my voice that way. Regardless of your history, it was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.” 

You give him the best smile you can offer at the moment. “It’s okay, really.” 

“You’re not manipulating anyone,” Sirius says, hand still tight around your waist, “but let’s save the rest of that conversation for another time, yeah?”

You nod reluctantly, and James gives Sirius a pleading look until he lets you go, nudging you into James' side. “I’m fine,” you insist again as he presses his lips to the top of your head, rubbing your upper arm. “Don’t worry about me.” 

He scoffs lightly, kissing downward to your forehead, the tip of your nose. “I always worry about you. Nothing you can do about that.” 

Some of the tension clears from Remus’ countenance as he watches you. “I agree, let’s pick that discussion back up when we all have clearer heads. Dovey, can I make you some tea?”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” you argue as James moves his attentions to your cheek. 

“Oh, let him,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes, “it’ll make him feel better. You can make me some tea, Moony.” 

“I’ll take some, too,” James says. “If it’ll help, of course. Actually, do we have any biscuits?” 

You laugh as Remus sets off happily for the kitchen.

[slushycoookie]

My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt. 2

Pt.1 - Pt.2

Relationship: Symbiote! Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: Smut, p in v, vaginal fingering, Miguel gets choked, Reader can't go ten minutes without being railed, MINORS DNI!

Summary: You try to have a serious conversation about the symbiote Miguel has, but it doesn't really work.

A/N: I'm having so much fun with this, don't mind me. Also, you guys really liked the first part, so here's some more!

After the most wonderful sex you had in your life, you had to get a grip.

It couldn't happen again. Having sex with an alien that your husband bonded with. You were still trying to understand why using a symbiote was the best action out of everything else. You all could try the normal way. Without taking extreme measures. Or, in your case, out-of-this-world ones. That's what you decided to do getting up this morning.

You took your time putting on clothes, your legs wobbling as you stood. You smelled the strong scent of coffee while traversing to the kitchen. Only to get a view of your husband's gorgeous back. 

“Good morning.” Miguel handed you a cup of coffee as a peace offering. As you took it, you tried not to get distracted by his hairy chest and arms. Or how his sweatpants hung low around his waist. 

“Good morning.” You smiled against your cup, “Sleep well?”

He nodded, matching your smile. “Did you?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes darted around his form. No clear view of his new symbiote. Unless he put it in a bottle. “Where is it? Or them?”

Miguel rubbed the back of his neck, “They're still here.” Just then, his new best friend appeared. Only its head, sporting your partner's signature blue and red colors. Its smile and tongue gave you flashbacks of how that was on your lower half last night. Taking exceptionally good care of you. You squeezed your thighs again to ignore the arousal.

“Pretty thing.” A weird form of greeting they uttered before disappearing.

“We should definitely talk about that. In-depth.” You settled your cup down.

Miguel did the same, standing beside you. “What's more to talk about? I told you why I got one.”

“And I understood that.” You sighed, “But that can't happen again. We should try like normal people. Go see a doctor, try more sex positions…”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you close. “We're not normal people.”

“I know.” You let out a slight laugh, “But I think it's best to-”

“Did you not enjoy last night?” 

Your heartbeat picked up. His eyes were lowered, gazing at you with an emotion you knew all too well. It didn't help that he smelled so good. Hints of ginger mixed with the fresh coffee hugged your senses. Or the way his rugged arms held you up last night while thrusting into you. “I did-”

He stole a kiss. Stopping you from regretting anything that occurred last night. You started making out in the kitchen, absorbed in the bitter coffee taste. Which somehow turned into you getting destroyed from behind. Miguel's symbiote form pressed against your back, body rutting into you. His ginormous hands covered the countertops. Little cracks formed with each thrust he took. You couldn't be upset about the destruction of your kitchen. You didn't want him to stop.

“You deserve to have our children…” That deep voice resonated in the room, causing you to shiver. 

“Don’t say that…” You whimpered, pressing your ass back against him. A territorial growl emitted from behind and he went harder. Pounding into you until you screamed his name.

Everything was a mess. 

The countertops were damaged, coffee spilled on the floor along with the broken pieces from your mugs. And a sticky, warm substance was sliding down your thighs. Miguel’s normal hand reached down and scooped up whatever was coming out. Pushing it back in to make sure it didn't go to waste. All while he kissed your head.

You couldn't even talk to him about the symbiote in the room. Whenever you tried to bring up getting rid of it, somehow you were on your back, side, bent over or on top. Taking your partner's cock like a champ. Getting full of his seed. And at the end of it, feeling completely satisfied. 

You ranted to MJ and Jess when you all went out for lunch at a café. It's been a week of Miguel using you like his own sex toy.

“All I heard is that you've been getting some.” Jess remarked while sipping on her drink. “And you're complaining about it.”

“Because he's distracting me! So I don't tell him to get rid of it!” You buried your face in your hands.

“Well…how big is it?” Mj asked, eyes wide with genuine curiosity. 

You raised a brow as your cheeks turned dark. “I shouldn't tell you that.”

“You look the way you did when you came back from your honeymoon.” Jess noticed your body practically glowing from all the sex you were having. “We gotta know how good it is.”

The table they were sitting at was rectangular in shape. Long enough for you to show them how big Miguel was with his symbiote. Which was almost half of the table. 

“Whoa.” Mj gawked at the description. “And tell me why you're complaining again.”

You rolled your eyes, “Symbiotes are dangerous! I don't want him to get obsessed with it all because of a problem I have.” You turned to Jess, “Shouldn't you be agreeing with me here? Didn't you have a symbiote?”

Jess waved you away, “No, because I'm too smart not to put myself through that.” You purse your lips as the Spider-Woman kept going. “They are dangerous, but only if they don't have a decent relationship with who they're attached to.”

“Yeah, Peter was very different when he had it.” Mj explained, twirling her drink around with a straw. “First he was energized and then snippy. He couldn’t part with it until he had a wake-up call that it was destroying our relationship. It was scary.”

That's what you were worried about. Your partner turning into someone you couldn't recognize. You weren't scared of him but for him.

“You know you can say no, right?” Jess said before getting a mischievous glint in her eye. “But you don't want to. The sex is that good, huh?”

You gasped at her accusation, “You are…absolutely right.” Your friends sympathized with you, “But we need to talk…”

You had to come up with a plan. A way so you could talk without having his cock buried inside you. You decided to visit him at HQ, trying to look as unattractive as possible with a hoodie and sweatpants. Being married to the leader of Spider Society had its perks. One of them was looking into mission distribution. You noticed the teen dream, which you called Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Hobie, and Margo, going to report to Miguel that day. You couldn't barge in when he spoke to Peter. He'd have Mayday with him, adding more fuel to the fire. Or any reports with Ben because Miguel would get jealous and sex would ensue. A bunch of teens on the other hand was perfect.

You approached the group as they were about to make their way into his lab.

“Hey!” Miles greeted with open arms, “What brings you here?”

“Oh, I need to talk to Miguel about something.” You waved it off, not deeming it as important. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Hobie said with a smirk, causing you to shake your head.

“No, no. It's just about the symbiote. You guys think it's weird, right? That he's using it?”

“Actually,” Gwen took over, “some of our people have had success stories in using it. Like me, for example.”

You stared at the girl, surprised. “What? You had a good relationship with one of those things?”

“Yeah. It's no big deal.” Gwen shrugged it off. The entire time they were slowly making their way inside his lab. Going past his equipment in the darkness.

Pavitr jumped on her back, “She says it's no big deal. Like a boss.”

“That's Gwendy for ya.” Hobie winked at her.

“Guys, it really isn't a big deal. Symbiote relationships can be symbiotic. It depends on the person and who they connect with. It could make them better or worse.” 

Everyone blinked at Gwen's explanation. Your knowledge of her connection with the alien made you pause. Was it possible for Miguel to have a healthy relationship with the thing? Were you stressing yourself out worrying about him?

“Miguel has been getting better lately.” Miles cut in.

“Yeah, at first he was moody, but then he gave me the day off so I could play a new game that came out.” Margo added. “He never lets me take the day off for video games.”

You hummed. Sure, his mood was getting better, but they still had to talk. You didn't want to assume everything was okay until they at least spoke about it.

Inside the lab, the teens gave their report to Miguel. The entire time he stood high on his platform, nodding to everything they were saying. Once in a while, he’d glance at you, a trace of intrigue, like he wanted to talk. Or breed you before getting back to work. You couldn’t relax seeing him in his typical suit. The symbiote was still attached to him, just not present. 

“Good work.” Miguel complimented, “Now, my partner needs to speak to me about something.”

You perked up, shaking your head. “They can stay, it’s not that important-”

“I’d rather they didn’t.” His stare shot through your body. It was hard but yet filled with increasing lust. All you did was walk in the room. 

The teens walked past you, shooting apologizing looks. Hobie’s face was amused, giving a reassuring pat on the back before whispering in your ear. “Don’t rough ‘im up too much.”

Miguel called you to his platform. You made your way across, trying to devise a quick game plan as your current one backfired. You placed yourself on the other side to create as much distance as possible. You heard him command Lyla to lock the lab so no one could get in. You took a deep breath to stabilize your beating heart. 

“Why are you over there?”

You shot him a glare, “You know why.”

“Do I?” Miguel tilted his head in question. A rumbling chuckle filled your body when you tsked. He stood on the other end, not making any moves to get closer. Yet his eyes were trailing down your covered body. Picturing himself peeling every layer off of you. “I like your outfit today.”

You saw him take one step closer and you had to straighten yourself. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Another step and you cleared your throat. You could see yourself being bent over that console if the conversation kept up like this. 

“Look, we really need to talk about this symbiote.” Miguel hummed, partially listening. As he took another step, you pressed yourself back against the console. Realizing you couldn’t get further back, you raised a harsh pointer finger towards him. “Miguel.”

“I’m listening, preciosa.” He paused, that same look of hunger in his eyes. 

“Are you? Do you see yourself right now?” You watched him take another step. 

Miguel snorted, “Do you see yourself right now? You’re so sexy. I can’t believe I married you.” 

He closed the gap, one hand on the console behind you. You placed your hands on his chest. At first, it was to try to create some distance, but the hardened muscle under your palms made you reconsider. Those same pectorals you've always felt and pressed up against. Your hands had a mind of their own, running along them. The corner of Miguel’s lips curled up in amusement. 

“You still wanna talk?” He picked you up and placed you on the console. His other hand placed against your lower back, pressing your entire body against his chest. Your resolve was dwindling as he gazed at you. “Or do you want to be bred?”

That’s how you ended up the way you were now. Clothes removed, thrown who knows where in his lab. Legs spread while his gigantic finger pumped into and out of you. Miguel’s symbiote form took over, drooling while watching you take him in easily. You whined while clutching his arm. Small sopping sounds fill your ears. 

A gasp escaped your lips when a second digit entered you. Your back arching at the beautiful friction. How his fingers knew where to touch inside. A satisfied growl erupted from Miguel, mouth wide as his tongue glided across your pleasure-fixed face. 

“Pretty thing. So obedient…” His thumb pressed against your clit. Your nails dug into his sticky skin at the additional sensation. Not wanting him to stop for a second as that familiar burning feeling started to rise. It pooled in your stomach before spreading up and over your body. Miguel didn’t care when you screamed for him in his lab, letting all the spiders know he was pleasing his partner. 

You panted, leaning back a little on the console when his fingers were gone. The familiar sight of his large cock came into view, ready to go in. A rush of clarity filled your mind as you stopped him. He gave you a look in question.

“Lemme be on top.”

Miguel grinned, eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Oh? Pretty little thing wants to bounce?” 

Before you could nod in confirmation, he sat down. Back pressed along the console. Goosebumps formed, feeling the cool steel amongst your feet. You licked your lips, watching your partner observe you. Dark blue cock aching to be inside. You hovered over him, stabilizing yourself by touching his shoulders. Before sinking down. 

Each time Miguel’s cock entered you, it was always as if it was the first time. After a couple of thrusts, You always lost your ability to think straight. Only taking what Miguel gave you. This time was going to be different. 

A moan escaped you, getting used to the feeling before raising your hips again. Before slamming back down on him. His eyes lowered at the sight of his partner fucking yourself on his shaft. Even though Miguel took over most of the time during sex, You had your moments of being the one to make him quiver under your touch. While fucking the symbiote, it was still affected by things that made regular Miguel whine. So you went slow, sliding up and down at an antagonizing pace. Even for you. But you needed to get your point across. Miguel’s hands hovered by your hips, ready to have you pick up the pace. Only for you to use one hand to grip his thick throat. 

His eyes went wide at the sudden action, your tiny hand doing your best to choke him out. “Pretty thing wants to get rough?”

“You like it rough.” You quipped back, still rolling your hips on him. Miguel growled at the sensation before latching his hand on his arm.

“We do.”

It happened in an instant, the symbiote tendrils curling around the lower half of your arm, coating it the signature blue. You felt stronger. Enough to grip his neck tighter. You also picked up the pace, bouncing in a way to drive him crazy. If you could see Miguel’s face, you knew his eyes would be rolled back, while his hips thrusted up in unison with your bounces. 

“L-Let me…speak to him…”

“You are.” The symbiote’s chest heaved, almost succumbing to the intoxicating sensation. 

You shook your head, a whimper coming out as you hit a spot that was too good. “No. I wanna…see him…” Miguel’s face appeared, pleasure permeating his dazed face. If there were any other moment, you wouldn’t stop, help him chase his fucked out high. But not right now. You slowed down, earning a cry from Miguel. 

“N-No. Don’t stop, mi amor.” 

“Listen to me first…” Your pace was torture as you sunk down enough to provide pleasure still. In this position, Miguel was susceptible to agree to anything as long as he made sure he released inside you. “We’re gonna have a conversation about this thing.”

“Okay, okay. We will. Now let’s-” A strangled moan escaped him when you squeezed his neck.

“I’m serious, Miguel. If we end up like this again without talking, you’re not coming back home.” You stared right into his eyes, serious while clouded with pleasure. Miguel stared right back, taking in that you meant every word. You didn’t like it had to come to this, but it would put you at ease if you two talked about it. 

He nodded, taking your words to heart. “Okay.”

With that, your pace picked up again. You bounced on his cock with vigor, hand removed from his throat and back to his shoulders. Miguel’s hands were on your hips as he fucked up into you to meet your own. Both were extraordinarily loud in the lab. Neither cared as they went to chase the high together. A mix of grunts and moans spread amongst the atmosphere. 

Then, a comfortable silence took its place.

[antiquarianfics]

The Best Things Take Time

Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

----

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.

The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.

Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.

Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.

Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.

Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.

Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.

—

“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.

“You get used to it,” Sam replies.

You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.

“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.

You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.

—

It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.

Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.

Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.

Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.

—

“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”

He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.

Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.

“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.

“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.

Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.

—

Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.

He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.

“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.

The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.

“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.

“Oh.”

“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”

You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.

“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.

Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.

“Okay.”

He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.

Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.

“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.

“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widened and you blushed.

“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.

She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.

“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”

She turned to Bucky then.

“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”

With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.

“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.

And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.

“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”

You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.

—

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.

"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.

"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.

"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.

"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

A New Beginning - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

Summary: The birth of your daughter with Lucifer brings some of his fears to the surface as he meets her for the first time, but you're there to help him.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Fluff, some angst, but mostly fluff

The moment she came into the world you knew you'd always love her. Your sweet baby girl looked a lot like her father, and while she had gotten your eyes, everything else seemed to have come from Lucifer. She had the most stunning golden hair you had ever seen, and the lighter streaks of blonde running through it only added to her beauty. Her chubby little cheeks were the most adorable shade of a bright, rosy red, and when she smiled you felt a happiness stronger than you had ever experienced before.

She was perfect.

"God, she looks so much like Charlie when she was born." Gently leaning over, Lucifer held out a finger, and your daughter grabbed onto it, curious eyes looking up at him. "Hi, my baby," he cooed, gently taking her from you, and holding her in his arms. "You're so precious."

You melted at the sight, a warmth filling you as you watched the scene in front of you. He was being careful with her, almost as if he was afraid she'd break at any moment, and the soft way he spoke to her made you fall in love with him all over again. You had always thought you made the right choice all those months ago when you asked him to have a baby with you, and your belief only grew as you looked at them.

"Darling?" Lucifer asked you. "Are you crying?"

You sniffled, nodding in response. It was beautiful. The two loves of your life in front of you had brought you to tears of joy. You loved them so, so much. "I'm just so happy, Lucifer. You're such a great dad."

Your husband looked away, avoiding your gaze, smiling sadly. "I'm not—I could've–" He sighed, unable to find the words. He handed her back to you, and you tilted your head slightly in confusion as he took a few steps back and began to nervously fidget with his cane.

"I could've done better with Charlie." He looked at your baby, the same sad, pained smile on his face. "I'm probably going to fuck up with this one, too." He let out a small, humorless, bitter laugh. You frowned.

"Lucifer, honey." You motioned for him to come closer, and he did, letting you hold his face in one of your hands. "Not all of it's your fault, okay?" You reassured him. He had told you about Lilith, and how she would distance him from Charlie, and how that ultimately helped lead up to his current, rocky father-daughter relationship with her.

He fought back tears. "I–I know you're not Lilith, but–fuck—I'm scared that the same thing's gonna happen, or that I'll screw up some other way. I want to be a good father. I need to be a good father. For her."

"And you will be." You promised. "I can already tell how much you love her, and I know you'll do an amazing job. Think of this as a new beginning for you. A chance to do even better."

He frowned, still filled with self-doubt, but nodded in agreement. This would be a new start for him, and he wouldn't waste his chance. His frown turned into a grin as your daughter reached out her tiny hands towards him, wanting to be held by her father again, and he gladly took her from you.

"Oh!" He said suddenly, letting out a small laugh as he realized something. "We never gave her a name!" He was right. Amid all the emotions, both good and bad, you had both managed to forget about her name.

"What should we—"

"Stella." You decided, cutting him off. She was your little star, your bright light in the darkness, and the cosmic-themed name fit her excellently. A wonderful name for the wonderful little girl you had brought into the world.

"Stella." He said, testing the name out. "I like it." He smiled down at her. "I'll be the best dad you could ever ask for, Stella. I promise."

You knew he wouldn't let her down. She was his new beginning, and he'd stay true to his word.

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[yesimwriting]

oh my god yes i'm very much interested in a drabble about my favourite besties kissing as besties do!!!!!!!!

the one that i really can't stop thinking about is the "i trust you more than anyone else" stuff like it's me and you against the world i'm such a sucker for that!! especially since felix is surrounded by people who wanna be close to him all the time and as easy going and open as he seems with anyone, it's of course on an entirely different level with reader

ugh the intimacy of it all makes me melt i love them😭😭

you get the vision!!

also had to start off a little angstier than usual bc the bestie kiss ™️ is only justifiable if both of them are upset enough to be more focused on being close than anything else, y'know

----

The taste lingers. The bitterness infects all it touches, poisoning you from the inside out as you down the drink that some guy pushed into your hand a few minutes ago.

A familiar warning briefly flashes to the front of your mind. Don't take drinks from strangers...especially not drinks that you didn't see them make. One of a hundred safety rules that you usually adhere to.

You've never really under the self destructive urge after drinking thing. Maybe it's just being tired. Maybe it's just this.

You wipe at your eyes with your palm, only remembering the products you had so carefully applied to your skin a few hours ago after the fact.

"Are you--" A familiar voice cuts through the music. You blink once, but it's not enough to force your eyes to adjust, so you try again. After screwing your eyes shut for a second, you can finally make out the person in front of you. Annabel. "You don't look like you're doing too good."

Your irritation has nothing to do with her, and yet seeing her standing there, effortlessly flawless with a slight edge that just fits here, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. But that's not her fault, so as stabiliy and politely as possible, you answer, "I'm...fine."

She regards you for a moment, eyebrows pinching together in uncertainty. "Why don't we find Felix, yeah?"

Why does everyone always assume that Felix is the solution to all of your problems? "I'm okay," you try again, voice a little more certain, "really."

Annabel still doesn't seem too convinced. She turns her head, scanning the crowded room. It doesn't take long for her to find Felix. It never does.

He's sitting on a loveseat that's been pushed towards the edge of the room. A few people are standing around him, a girl is sitting on the chair's arm, her legs swung over his lap.

"And he seems..." You force your face to remain neutral as your eyes finally land on him. "Busy."

Annabel looks back at you, her lips pressing together. Her expression only adds to your unease. "He wouldn't mind. It's you."

You shake your head, the motion adding to your slight nausea. Usually, you wouldn't think twice about sticking by Felix's side. Especially in this kind of setting, but after the words the two of you exchanged earlier, everything feels off its axis.

You're not used to fighting with Felix. It's such a foreign concept that the strange tension that had you walking away from him earlier probably doesn't even constitute an actual argument. But it's enough to make you feel out of place.

Swallowing once, you force yourself to focus on Annabel. "I think I just need some air." Annabel's still regarding you with uncertainty. "I'll be back in a minute, and if I feel sick or anything, I'll go get Felix." She doesn't move until someone calls her name. "Go. Have fun. I'll see you."

Annabel nods once, giving you a polite smile before leaving.

The door is near where Felix is sitting, which means there's no leaving without walking past him. There's enough of a crowd around him that him not noticing is a likely option, so you feel safe crossing the room.

You push your way through the room, eyes trained on the ground to help your balance. It's also a good excuse to not look at Felix as you reach the door.

There are stragglers--a group of girls chatting and giggling in front of the door, some guys doing shots, a girl in the middle of a phone call that looks painful.

You walk around the side of the house until you find an empty section of the sidewalk. The party feels far away here, even though the only thing dividing you is a few cars, a mailbox, and a streetlight. You sit and let yourself pretend that the bit of distance you've managed to create means something.

You could actually leave. Sure, this is a slightly off campus house party, but it's only a few blocks away from the street that'll take you to your dorm. You did walk here, but that was when you were focused, sober, and you had Felix with you.

But that's--you brought cash. You think. Maybe you should call a cab. It's not the worst idea. You drop your attention to the ground, instinctually searching for your purse.

Ugh. Your purse. Felix. You gave it to Felix.

Okay, you're still an independent person. This is probably for the best. It's never a good idea to leave a party without at least telling the person you came with, and this way it won't be a big deal. You'll ask for your purse so that you can call a cab. He probably won't even care.

You just need a minute to get it together. Then you'll be able to go back in, tap Felix on his shoulder, and get your purse. He won't even have to get that girl off his lap.

It is such a double standard. Felix completely forgetting about you is perfectly fine, but you talk to one person that isn't more Felix's friend than yours at one of these things and that must mean you're trying to replace him as a best friend.

Maybe you've been deluding yourself, convincing yourself that your friendship means more than it actually does. The thought makes it hard to breathe right.

"It's cold out."

Your palms press into asphalt as you snap your head to find the source of the sound. Felix. A lump wedges itself in your throat. "I'm fine." He takes a step forward. "I just wanted some air."

You turn your head, forcing yourself to stare ahead. Soft footsteps, the crunching of asphalt echoes, somehow sharper than the music coming from the house. Felix sits.

He's farther than he usually is.

You lift your hands, taking your time brushing your fingers against your palms to get rid of the debris that indented itself into your skin. "You um--you have my purse, right?" You fold your hands against your lap. "I need my phone. I--I need to call a taxi."

"What?" His voice doesn't come out angry, but there's a flatness there that burrows deep into the pit of your stomach. It almost feels disappointed. "Why?"

You squeeze your hands together, "I want to go home." You still can't look at him. "I want to go back to my room." Your voice starts to crack on the last word. Nails instinctually dig into your knee.

Felix sighs, angling himself towards you, "You don't have to do that." His voice is soft, cautious. "If you want to leave, I'll take you."

"No," you shake your head once, attention still focused forward to keep him from noticing the fact that your eyes are now watering. All of this feels so dumb, so small. Why are you almost crying? "It's okay, you're having fun, I can get back by myself."

He lets out another breath, moving his arm so that his hand sits between both of you. "You're drunk."

"So are you."

A beat of silence that feels like an attempt at admitting that he's more than just drunk. You saw Tyler--or Trevor, or maybe Timothy--wandering the halls. Some guy whose name you can never remember because he only shows up at the end of nights, when you're too out of it to do much more than just be happy. He's known for carrying--and sharing--harder stuff.

Not that you'd know. There's nowhere that Felix won't take you, nothing that he keeps from you. That's part of the beauty of your friendship, the lack of judgement. But Felix isn't fond of you participating in everything all the time.

If you ever show interest in anything on a night that Felix isn't feeling too sure about, he'll offer to get you whatever you want later, when it's just the two of you. Maybe you'd mind his concern if you cared about getting high more.

You can feel Felix's stare, the weight of his full attention. "You don't actually think I'm going to let you go anywhere alone, after drinking, in the middle of the night."

There's a patience there that makes it hard to sit still. You turn your head, finally looking at him, "I'm fine. I can--" You cut yourself off with a slight sniffle.

You wipe at your face with the side of your palm. Felix's eyebrows are pinched together. You don't know what to make of the way he's watching you. Felix lifts his hand, fingers finding their way against your jaw before you can move. "You're upset."

Pressing your lips together, you try to force yourself to look as neutral as possible. "I'm fine." He doesn't move. "You should go back to your party, Felix."

"The party?" His expression briefly contorts in confusion. "I don't care about the party." Your vision is starting to blur. "There are other parties. You're crying." Felix shifts his hand up your face, his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek.

You try to take a stabilizing breath, "It's not a big deal." You will yourself to move, to rely on him less. "I don't think I'm going to be any fun tonight, you should go, and I--I'll talk you tomorrow."

He frowns. "You don't have to be any fun." Felix shouldn't have to coddle you. Embarrassment and guilt further knot your stomach. "If you want to sit here, we can sit here. If you want to go inside, we can go inside. If you want to go home, we'll go home."

"Earlier," you manage, focusing on keeping your voice as even as possible, "When we--" Tears pool in your eyes, something at the back of your throat constricts. "I didn't--I don't know--"

You're not making sense, forcing out fragments of thoughts that don't work together. Felix seems to understand anyway, his thumb grazing against your cheek. "We don't have to talk about that now." You nod slowly. "If you still want to go home, let me take you."

You attempt a full breath, "But what ab--"

He tilts his head in a way that makes it feel like he's telling you a secret, "If you ask about the party again, I'm calling you delusional."

You roll your eyes. It's a relatively lame threat, but it serves its purpose. The corner of your mouth tugs itself upwards, your lips pressed together to hold in a partial laugh. "Okay."

Felix's hand slips from the side of your face and finds a new place against your shoulder. "Yeah? Let's go then."

He stands first and then extends an arm to help you. His stability makes it easier.

There is no laughter or pausing on sidewalks to try to hold onto each other. The two of you are quiet, but Felix does keep your fingers intertwined the entire way back to his dorm.

You don't think to question where he's taking you until you're in his room. "Felix." The walk had been good for you, the fresh air and time to gather your thoughts providing enough of a reprieve for you to get it together. "I want to go to sleep."

"Yeah," he mumbles, "I know, I'll get you your favorite shirt."

Your eyes focus on the ground. "I think I should sleep in my room tonight."

Felix sighs, turning away from the door. "You're trying to leave again."

The accusation only half makes sense, but there's a quietness to his voice that gets to you. All the nervous, alcohol fueled energy is coming back with a vengeance. "When have I ever left you?"

Felix scoffs, the sound bitter. "You left me tonight." If his voice was any less raspy, any less urging, you likely would have laughed. He's the one that got mad at you. "You just--you walked away from me. Like I didn't even matter to you."

The a thinly veiled sadness there that almost feels nervous. He can't meet your gaze. The pride encouraging you to stand still bleeds from you. Without its heat, its fire, there's not much keeping you stable.

You move forward, footsteps cautious. "Felix." You stretch a hand forward, fingers brushing against his forearm. He doesn't move. "Of course you matter to me. So much." Your fingers bend around his wrist. "You're my best friend."

He turns his arm. Your body tenses, preparing for his rejection. Felix's hand squeezes yours. There's a tension in his hold, but you embrace it all the same. "You walked away from me."

You take another step towards him, freehand finding his arm. "That's why." He sets a hand against you waist. The contact is firm, unforgiving. There's still hurt, but the only thing more unthinkable than holding on is letting go. "What you say means so much to me, because you're my best friend." His fingers press into your side. "And you were upset--and there were so many people--" Tears prick the corner of your eyes. "And I couldn't do that there."

"No." He squeezes your hand. "No, don't--don't cry, we're okay." As if to prove his point, Felix pulls you closer. The movement's too sudden for you to keep your balance on your own. You tighten your hold on Felix's arm. "Still my best girl, yeah?"

This is nowhere near the closest you've ever been to him. He has a hand on your hip, but that's far from the touchiest he's ever been. It shouldn't--he shouldn't be this distracting. It takes you a second too long to remember to nod.

He angles his head downwards, his cheek finding a place against your shoulder. Felix's breath is warm against your neck. "Wouldn't leave me."

You nod, moving your hand to rest against his back. Felix relaxes against you. It's not easy to stay stable with the alcohol still in your system and Felix's weight on you, but you manage.

"No." You mean it so much it almost hurts to get out. You'd never walk away from him. There's nothing like your bond with Felix. You could talk to him, be around him forever without feeling drained. "Of course not."

Felix turns his head, brushing his lips against your neck. "Stay over, then?" The question is soft, fragile. It'd be smart to create distance. If tonight's proven anything, it's that you're too attached to him. "Please?"

You smooth your knuckles against his spine. "Okay." He presses a kiss against your shoulder. "Yeah. I'll stay."

He hugs you even tighter. "No more tears, alright?"

You squeeze him back. "Alright."

For awhile, the two of you stay like that. There's nothing left to say, and that still manages to be comfortable. Silence is never uncomfortable with Felix.

He eventually shifts to place a kiss against the side of your neck. "We should get ready for bed."

You hum once in agreement. Neither of you move. Things are simple when you factor out the rest of the world. Things are easy when it's just you and Felix.

An overwhelming wave of fondness brings you back. As gently as possible, you start the process of untangling limbs. Felix pouts at you, expression drowsier than before.

Your fingers carefully brush his hair out of his face. "I need to change."

Felix fully straightens. His hand finds the back of your head. He pulls you towards him, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Okay."

He lets go of you before walking towards his dresser. Felix opens the top drawer and finds your usual sleep shirt. You take it before entering his bathroom.

Going out outfits are cute, but there's something about the moment you get home that immediately forces every ounce of discomfort to hit all at once. You shed the restrictive layers before pulling Felix's T-shirt over your head.

You swear there's some kind of rich guy secret to keeping clothes this soft. A combination of fabric, fancy detergent, and some third thing that's reserved for those in the know.

You turn on the sink, ready to wash what's left of the night off of your face. Felix has never gotten rid of or moved anything you've left in here. What's left of your buzz has you more emotional than usual, making the evidence of your life in his space heavier than it should be.

The feeling is good and bad all at once. Your attachment to Felix is the kind of thing that can only come from fully understanding someone. But there's an inherent danger in knowing someone like that, carrying about them like that. Especially Felix, who has everyone so he doesn't need anyone.

You splash some more water onto your face, attempting to shake off any lingering angst. You don't want to dissect your friendship until it eventually falls apart into nothingness.

When you finally step back into his room, Felix is sitting on his bed, back pressed against the wall. He's managed to change into pajama pants, but seems to be struggling with everything else. His shirt's half unbuttoned, and his fingers are actively working at undoing the rest of them. Felix's movements are slow and clumsy as he tugs on the fabric.

Wow. Maybe you were right to think he was high. "Hey." He looks up at you, hands still attempting to pull apart his shirt. There's something endearing about the clumsiness. He drops his head back down to refocus."Do you--uh--do you need help?"

He angles his head to one side, a smile playing at his lips. "Are you asking to undress me?"

Heat burns through your chest, leaving you hollow. You approach his dresser, leaving your neatly folded outfit on the wooden surface. "Figure out your own shirt."

"No," his sigh is light, almost a laugh, "'M kidding." Your glare only seems to add to his easygoing mood. He smiles, dropping a hand to pat the space next to him. "Come here."

You give in with a sigh, crossing the room and sitting at the foot of his bed. He reaches forward, briefly squeezing your shoulder before returning to work on his shirt. It's hard to watch him stumble through undoing a single button, just to have to start the process all over again.

You pull your legs onto the bed, turning to fully face him. Your knee is pressed against his thigh.

"Lovie," he hums, as if your presence is some kind of revelation.

"Felix." He grins, hands releasing his shirt in favor of trying to grasp your arm. "Wait--" His fingers wrap around your wrist. "I'm--trying--" He pulls your hand towards him, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You laugh. "I'm trying to help you."

He tugs on your arm. His pull isn't harsh, but the unexpectedness of it paired with your buzz makes it enough to throw off your balance. Your freehand presses against the mattress in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Felix laughs, tugging on you again.

Fighting your own fit of giggles, you instinctually push yourself onto your knees in an attempt to regain some control. Felix gives you a second to find your footing. You gently pull his hand off of your forearm and set it on his lap. He frowns.

You extend your arms, placing your hands on his shoulders. Part of the reason for it is to help keep you stable, the rest of it is to keep him focused. He looks up at you, eyes pools of hesitant affection. "Stay still."

He lets you reach for his shirt. "Y'don't have to, I'm okay."

Shrugging, you continue to work at unclasping his buttons. "It's okay, I like helping you."

You unbutton the few buttons that are left. "Better?" Felix nods. "I'll get you a pajama shirt."

Before you can get far, Felix grabs your hand. "We're..." He focuses on bending and straightening your fingers. "Good, right?"

There's something soft about the question, almost shy. "Yeah." He turns over your palm, tracing the lines etched into your skin. "Of course we're good." You adjust, crossing your legs beneath you to sit down.

"Honestly, I was thinking about it, and part of the reason I was upset is because..." This is harder to admit than you thought it'd be. "You seemed really okay without me, and that--I don't know. It's dumb, because I really do want you to be happy, but it made me feel a little replaceable, I guess."

"What?"

You sigh, dropping your attention to your intertwined hands. "I know, I said it was dumb." You pause, eyes darting up to look at him. His expression isn't judgmental or like he needs space. You can't fully read his expression, but nothing about the way he's looking at you feels unkind. "I only mentioned it to be honest, I don't like the idea of keeping se--"

He pulls on your arm again, this time his hold a little firmer. You're closer now. Felix's other hand finds your hip, anchoring you in place. You're too confused to do anything but blink at him.

Felix lets go of your arm, fingers finding their way beneath your chin. He angles your head so that all of your attention is on him. Your lips part, a half thought out question is on the tip of your tongue when Felix leans towards you. His lips meet yours.

You're still, shock and something a lot more electric rendering you in capable of anything else. This isn't the first time Felix has pressed his lips against yours. He's affectionate, especially when drinking is involved. He'll brush his lips against yours after taking a shot together, or just because at the end of a long night. It's not an everyday thing, but it's happened from time to time.

This--this isn't that. He's lingering, lips parting so that his teeth can graze against your bottom lip. Felix pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. His thumb brushes across your cheek.

"You're my best friend." Felix's words are so urging, so pleading you nod before you can think. "Best mate. You're the--the only one that gets me. Really gets me." His hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you back to him.

Any sense of hesitance vanishes the second time he kisses you. He's all consuming, lips dragging against yours with a desperate patience that's dizzying. It's disorientating, the desire to be that much closer to someone when there's no way to get there.

Felix's hand finds your back. He pushes you towards him. There's no good way to oblige. You try anyway, shifting your weight back onto your knees. Felix pulls you forward by your waist. You're too focused on him to realize what's happening until you're on his lap.

He takes his time letting you go, teeth tugging on your bottom lip. "I trust you more than anyone." Felix leans back in, placing a quick kiss against your lips. "You're not replaceable." He squeezes your shoulder. "You know that, right?"

Still breathless, you nod. He's watching you with so much patience, so much care it's almost hard to bare.

His thumb smooths circles against your shoulder. "Let's go to bed, yeah?"

You lift his hand off your thigh to press a kiss against the back of his palm. "Yeah, lets go to bed."

He squeezes your shoulder once before letting you go. You move off of his lap carefully.

Felix sits up enough to push his shirt off of his shoulders. Your eyes instinctually fall to his sheets. "Do you want me to get you a shirt?"

"Why? Distracted?"

You roll your eyes in an attempt to the fact that you are struggling to look at him. "Shut up."

He grins as he pulls back his sheets. "M'okay." You take the opportunity to slip beneath the layers of fabric. Felix waits until you're settled to crawl beneath the sheets. "It's warm enough, even with you stealing my blankets."

"I do not," the sentence is more of a mock gasp than anything else. Felix shifts onto his side before collapsing his weight on you. "Felix."

"What?" He rests his cheek against your chest. "This is the only way to keep you from taking my sheets."

You sigh, feigning annoyance as your fingers find his hair. "Rude. I'm a great bed sharer."

Felix lets out a partial laugh against the side of your neck. His hand finds your hip. "You are pretty great."

Your hand trails down towards his back, nails grazing against the bare skin. "You are, too."

Silence stretches between the two of you for so long you assume that he's already fallen asleep. Felix has a talent for drifting off in the blink of an eye.

"Lovie?" He whispers the term so lowly you almost convince yourself the sound is a figment of your imagination.

"Yeah?"

You can feel the shift in his breathing. "It's you and me--just you and me, when it comes down to it." His thumb brushes up and down your side. "You know that."

He relaxes as your fingers trail down the start of his spine. "Yeah. Of course I know that." A part of you feels naive for believing his words so easily. He's too adored to just be your Felix at the end of the day, and yet-- "Just you and me."

Felix leaves an open mouthed kiss against collarbone. It's the kind of warm that leaves goosebumps breaking out everywhere the contact can't be felt. "Good."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[tumb1rprincess]

Okay, I just binged the rest of the Hazbin Hotel episodes.

Carmilla and Zestial are hot. And Carmilla is so interesting. I loved her and Vaggie's song. I actually didn't expect them to reveal who killed the angel so quickly. But I love how they're showing that even some of the top overlords in Hell care. The only question now is what Alastor is going to do with this information.

I love Vox. He has a great voice and his rivalry with Alastor is hilarious.

Sir Pentious is such a fucking loser and I adore him.

Nifty almost reminds me of Little My from the Moomins with her little gremlin energy. I don't know if we'll get any serious moments with her like we have with the other characters, but I guess we'll see.

I love how Alastor's room is a literal bayou/swamp. And him eating the whole fucking deer was hilarious.

I didn't expect for some of the others to find out about Angel and Val's toxic relationship so quickly, but I did like how it showed an uncommon angle: how trying to save someone from an abusive relationship can make things worse for the victim. I can't think of any other media off the top of my head that shows that kind of thing. But with Charlie and Husker knowing about this (and Cherri Bomb if we're counting Addict as canon), how long before everyone else finds out? And what are their reactions going to be?

I haven't been the biggest Angel/Husker shipper, but holy hell, am I on board now. Husker once being an overlord and pretty much implying that he sold his soul to Alastor much like how Angel did with Val was a development I didn't expect, as well as drawing parallels between his addiction to gambling and Angel's addiction to drugs. Hell, I really didn't except this angle they took with Husker. We only saw his bitter attitude in the pilot, and we still get plenty of that here, but I didn't expect him to also be a good people reader and being able to see how the other characters really are and what they're hiding. He's almost empathetic in a way.

All of the songs are fucking bangers, Poison especially. I listened to it once before the show and I liked it okay, but seeing it in context, it hits you ten times harder. I almost cried.

The show is so good at making the viewer feel so uncomfortable with how Val treats Angel, it's almost too hard to watch. I've seen shows tackle abuse before and they've done it well, but this was very raw and in your face and it makes your insides twist. And I love it.

Looking at the show's cast, Vivzi got so many people with Broadway experience and I love that. I feel like a lot of popular media nowadays just like to cast popular actors regardless of whether they can actually sing or not (I'm looking at you live action Disney remakes). But every actor who's sung so far is fucking good at it and it shows.

So far, I am in love, love, love with this show. I remember first watching the pilot when it was causing some controversy and I fell in love with it immediately. It almost became a comfort thing for me for a while. I was watching it over and over during 2020 when Covid was running rampant and everything was shit. I'm so proud of Vivzie and everyone else for their hard work and dedication and love. This show is so different from everything else out there. I hope now that it's out, even more people can fall in love with it.