#but maybe the month or two of anticipation is actually just as important if not more so than the actual holiday

[high-fructose-jay-syrup]

the anticipation of christmas is miles more fun than the actual holiday and I think that's okay actually

[jeonginsleftcheek]

happy birthday, love

pairing: bang chan x afab!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 2.0k

warning/s: talk about insecurities and feeling unworthy of love, kinda corny me thinks, not proofread

a/n: i'm soft for him fr🥹🤍 i'm not completely satisfied with this but it's been in my drafts for weeks and it's my birthday soon so this is a little self-indulgent... hope you enjoy.🫶🏻

~check out my: Masterlist

You were never really big on celebrating your birthday. Many people made it seem like it was something so important, so grand when in fact it was just a day like any other. At least, that's how you always viewed it.

You always felt weird receiving gifts and special attention. It made you want to disappear. And it didn't help that every birthday you felt very melancholic, and you don't even know why. Often times, that melancholy would result in overthinking, feeling abandoned and then ofcourse - crying. It wasn't your birthday until you've had a little cry session in your bed.

Maybe it was because of those people who made it look like something worth anticipating, and when the day actually comes - nothing special happens. The world doesn't stop, the sun doesn't shine brighter, the flowers don't look prettier. Nobody and nothing cares. The Earth keeps spinning like it's none of her business.

That's what you told your boyfriend Chan too. You'd only been dating for 8 months but he wasn't afraid to shower you with affection, and you felt bad for not being so out there with your feelings like he is. You felt embarassed enough every time he got you a surprise present just because he thought of you. He knows you struggle with showing your feelings, much less talking openly about them but you really do love him and you are willing to do whatever's in your power to show him that you love him as much as he loves you.

Maybe through a warm meal you prepare for him when he's done with work, maybe with a shoulder to lean on when he's having a tough time, maybe with some good-hearted advice when he needs it, maybe with your embrace when he craves comfort... Maybe with your kisses, slow and intense, passionate and loving, wet and deep.

And you're sure he's the type to throw you a whole ass surprise party, make a grand gesture, buy you many gifts and that's why you begged him before your first birthday together not to do any of that.

Chan respects that, he only fears that you're pushing away his gestures because somewhere deep inside you feel undeserving of them. But he also wants to give you time to think and work through your problems, ofcourse leaning on him whenever you need to. He's always there in a blink of an eye for you.

It's hard for him to hold it in, his desire to shower you in gifts and affection but he doesn't want to seem too overbearing. It's not like he wants to buy your love, he just can't help himself when he sees something cute that reminds him of you, or something he knows you'd like or even something you two can share like a couple item.

He tries not to rush anything cause it took you a long time to even open up to him, he accepts your differences and definitely doesn't want you to change for him. He just wants you to know you deserve to be pampered, loved and gifted.

Chan thinks hard what he could do for your birthday to make it special, but also that it's nothing too grand or crazy at the same time. He knows you hate surprise parties so he crosses those off the list. He tosses and turns in bed, trying not to wake you when suddenly there's a lightbulb above his head.

-

It's just another Friday. Well, coupled with the fact that it's your birthday and your sweet boyfriend is the first to congratulate you as soon as you open your eyes.

"Happy birthday, love."- he whispers sweetly, his lips pouty and eyes shining as they look at you with so much admiration.

Him by himself was a good enough gift for you, perfect even and you lean in to kiss him as he wraps his arms around you tightly.

"No surprises, okay? I mean it, mister!"- you poke his chest as you part from each other.

"Yes ma'am!"- he smirks mischievously at you as he plays with your hair.

"You're planning something, aren't you?"- you squint your eyes at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."- he moves away to stretch his arms and you sit up.

"Don't joke around, Chan. I told you I don't want any grand gestures."- you say.

"Who said anything about anything grand? Come on, let me make you breakfast, hm? That's not considered grand is it?"- he smirks and pinches your cheek. You swat his hand away whining in fake annoyance at your silly boyfriend.

You could do with breakfast before another stressful day at work.

-

You're tired, begging for the day to end already and you can't stop thinking about dinner and a nice warm bubble bath when you come home. Maybe even a comfort movie and cuddles with your boyfriend under the blankets.

"Channie, I'm home!"- you yell from the door.

"In the kitchen!"- he yells back, a little too eagerly and your brows furrow in suspicion. Your heart starts thumping in your chest as you walk towards the sound of his voice.

When you enter, you're greeted with a smiling Chan standing next to a table full of food, candles and flowers in the middle.

"What's all this?"- you swallow, your chest tightening.

"Dinner for my birthday girl."- he smiles, coming towards you, his hands gently grabbing yours.

"Ugh, don't call me that. But fine, I'm hungry anyways."- you say and let him lead you to the table.

"M'lady."- he pulls your chair out and you giggle at his antics.

"You made all this for me?"- you ask, looking around the table.

"Yeah, ofcourse."- he looks at you so lovingly that your heart flutters.

"Oh, Channie. You really are too sweet. Thank you."- you say. Even though you hate your birthday, Chan didn't do anything grand just like you asked and you appreciate the work he put into cooking dinner and how mindful he was of your wishes. It makes you appreciate him even more.

"It was my pleasure, trust me love."- he smiles at you and you almost melt into a puddle.

You can see how much effort your wonderful boyfriend put into dinner, making all of your favorites and making them extra tasty, like he spiced it all up with the love he has for you.

"Chan, this is amazing! I didn't know you could cook this well. I don't mean that you're a bad cook!"- you panic, frantically waving your hands around. "This is just different."

"It's okay."- Chan chuckles. "I actually called Minho for advice."- he admits sheepishly, cheeks becoming rosy.

"Oh... Did he tease you?"- you chuckle.

"He teased the hell out of me."- Chan shakes his head, a little laugh escaping his lips.

"Well, we both know he would do the same for his significant other no matter how unbothered he acts."- you say, getting up to get rid of the empty plates.

"Oh no no, you sit down. I will get the plates."- Chan is on his feet immediately.

"Baby, it's really no problem."- you say but he snatches the plates out of your hands.

"Please, sit down."- he pouts a little and well you can't say no to that face.

"Close your eyes."- he adds after he places the dishes in the sink.

"Chan, no... I told you I don't want any surprises! Nothing too crazy..."- you shake your head.

"It's not crazy. Just humor me, okay?"- he says.

"Fine."- you roll your eyes in fake annoyance and then close them, a little smile of anticipation on your lips.

You hear shuffling, then feel Chan's presence closer as he puts something in front of you on the table.

"Open them."- he whispers, closer to you than you think he was.

You brace yourself and open your eyes.

"Is that a cake?"- your eyes widden.

"Yes, it's a cake, love."- Chan chuckles at your cute reaction. "I baked it for you."- he adds proudly.

"You baked me a cake?"- you melt again.

"Lix helped with that but yeah. You said nothing grand... even though I would buy you anything you ask for. But I just wanted to do something for you. Especially after a hard day's work."

Your eyes water suddenly, vision blurred and Chan gasps.

"Baby?! Are you crying?"- he panics, leaning down to take a look at your face, his arm wrapping around your shoulder.

You don't know what made you sob this hard, but you can't even speak, tears flowing down your cheeks and sobs leaving your lips.

Chan doesn't know what happened or if he did something wrong but he wraps his arms around you instinctively, pulling you into a hug. Anxiety washes over him as he rewinds what he said or did to make you so upset. You clutch at his shirt, burying your face in his neck, finding comfort in his warmth.

"I'm sorry."- you lean back after some time, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. Chan shakes his head as he hands you tissues.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You know I'm here for you. I just... wanna know if I did something wrong."- he says, biting on his lip nervously.

"No, no way. You're perfect, Chan. It's me... You go and do all this for me and I feel like an ungrateful bitch crying over nothing. I feel like you deserve someone better, someone who can treat you the way you should be treated. At this point, I don't even know why you're still wasting your time on me."- you spill your deepest feelings out, fearing that Chan will agree with you and you'd be left with nothing then. You barely look into his eyes and he looks hurt.

Why did you have to say that? You should've kept your mouth shut.

"H-how can you say something like that?"- Chan's voice wavers. "Don't you see how wonderful you are? How good you are to me? You may not say stuff outright like I do, but I see that you care for me in all the little things you do. You're always there for me, you cheer me up and believe in me even if I don't believe in myself. You understand me like no one ever did before. Sometimes even without words. You always think of me even when I forget about myself."- he talks, and fresh tears start sliding down your cheeks.

Your chest feels tight, and you blame yourself for upsetting your boyfriend, who has nothing but good thoughts about you.

"And I know we haven't been together for that long. But ever since the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one."

"Don't exaggerate."- you hiccup, trying to move away but his arms tighten around you.

"Don't you feel the same?"- he asks quietly and you look at him.

The puppy eye look kills you and you can't help the small smile spreading on your face.

"Ofcourse I do. I love you with all my heart, Chan. I just didn't think you love me so much. And it's really nothing you ever said or did, so don't think it's your fault. It's the stupid inner voice inside my head, telling me I'm unworthy. And whenever my birthday comes around, the feeling amplifies. I keep checking my messages and waiting for people to congratulate me. I cry if I think one person forgot my birthday. And then I feel like no one cares and that I'm all alone. I know it's dumb and it's not true but I can't help how I feel."- you explain.

"Do you feel alone now?"- he asks, cupping your cheek with his hand, his thumb swiping at the tears sliding down.

"No."- you whisper, your eyes fluttering as you lean into his touch.

"Then my plan was successful."- Chan smiles, leaning in closer to you.

"I knew you had something up your sleeve this morning."- you smirk, the sadness inside you slowly fading away.

"See, you know me so well."- Chan says and you giggle, your lips meeting his in a gentle kiss, the love he feels for you pouring from his lips to yours.

"I guess I do."- you smile as you part.

"Technically it's not midnight yet so it's still your birthday."- he starts.

"What did you cook up now?"- you ask and he chuckles.

"How about I prepare you a nice warm bath?"- Chan asks.

"Only if you'll join me."- you smirk.

"I think that can be arranged."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark  was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly,  whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle. 

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Parental Negotiations

Feyd x reader

Pregnancy, canon typical violence suggested, etc. Feyd is Lowkey his own warning.

Feyd's brown wrinkled as he narrowed his eyes. "None?"

I tensed, anticipating a fight. Feyd had the energy to argue all day if he cared enough about the topic, and for better or worse our future children were an important topic to him. But at seven months pregnant, I had no desire to do such a feat. Once upon a time I would have loved to have verbally sparred with him over the course of several hours, riling him up until he was ready to throw me into our bed. None of that sounded appealing these days. I'd rather the two of us spend our evening quietly, holding each other, watching some documentary or education text until I fell asleep. Is this how old people felt?

Feyd and I were both barely in our early twenties, but this pregnancy feels like it had aged me in an unexpected way. Or maybe I was just tired. That could be it.

I sighed, sitting down on the couch that took up a large space in my living quarters. Feyd had his own rooms of course, but he spent most of his time in mine. It would be smothering if I didn't like him so much. "I don't want to use a wet nurse when the baby is born. I want to feed my child from my own breast. And I don't really want to use nursemaids either, I'd prefer to raise my own child."

Feyd was quiet for a moment, his eyes staring me down like he was trying to determine just how serious I was about this issue. When he did speak, his raspy voice was gentler than usual. "You're the Na Baroness. You'll be the Baroness one day. You have obligations beyond being a wife and mother."

"I know, and I'm not going to neglect those duties. I think I'll take one or two months to rest with the baby, and after that, I'll see how much I can get done with them on my hip." I explained. "I'm open to using a part time nursemaid, sparingly. So I can have someone hold the baby while I shower, and other such needs."

"And if you can't manage to meet your duties with our child strapped to your chest?" Feyd pressed calmly.

"Then I'll be open to using a nursemaid. Sparingly, of course." I said firmly. "Some weight could be lifted if you assisted me, you know. I don't expect you to drop everything to help me, but watching them for a few hours while I get my duties done would help a lot."

Feyd looked bewildered. "When am I supposed to find the time to do that?!"

I chuckled. "You could strap him to your chest while you do your morning run." I suggested.

"What's wrong with using the nursemaid?" Feyd probed again. "They'll be properly vetted I assure you. And the royal guard will never be far."

"Listen, I know most nobles think that seeing their child once a day for afternoon tea is being an involved parent, but I disagree." I said firmly. "I'm not going to carry this baby for nine months, go through hours of labor, love them more than I ever thought I could love anyone, and then just hand him off to a stranger to raise. I want to be the one to teach him to talk, and walk, and play with him. I know the sleepless nights when he's sick or having a tantrum will be difficult at best, but I want those hard times. I want… I want to actually be a mother."

Feyd's eyes glazed over, my words still registering as he remembered something. Some far off memory that I would likely never be privy to. He hadn't ever spoken much about either of his parents, but he avoided the topic of his mother like a snake avoiding a hawk. Perhaps there was some dusty memory in the corners of his mind of a mother that soothed his fevers, kissed his scraped up knees, and sang his nightmares away with lullabies.

"Alright." He said, a firmness in his voice that assured dependableness and security. "No wet nurses. And I'll only have two nursemaids hired, both part time."

Two nursemaids was a great improvement over the seven that the Baron had told you to expect. Seven nursemaids to attend to the future of House Harkonnen. And three wetnurses. How much could one baby eat? Perhaps the Baron expected Feyd's child to have an appetite to match his.

I smiled, leaning over and kissing Feyd's cheek. "Thank you, love. This means a lot to me."

"If you neglect your duties, I won't be able to prevent more nursemaids being hired." Feyd warned. "And if you're unable to care for our child sufficiently, I will insist on the nursemaids stepping in more."

"I understand." I said gently, resting a hand on his arm. "I just want… when our child wakes up from a nightmare, I want them to call out for me, not a nanny."

Feyd's eyes softened. He rested his hand on my belly, rubbing little circles over where our baby rested inside me. "I will never truly understand motherhood, or your desire for it. But this is important for you, so it's important to me. And… I do admit to wanting something similar."

"You do?" I asked, surprised.

"When I was a boy, I used to go to my combat instructors when I had an injury or needed advice." Feyd explains. "I was wondering the other day about which instructors I should pick for my child, and I realized… I wanted to be the one to teach them. I wanted to be the one to bandage his cuts, and correct his stance. Not some retired general I select to train him for me."

I leaned into Feyd, gasping a little as our baby moved inside me, kicking right where Feyd's hand rested. "Oh! Ugh… they're getting stronger. That one hurt a bit."

Feyd chuckled, rubbing the little outline of our baby's foot. "A strong kick. Good, they'll need that."

"I think you'll be a good father." I said, images of Feyd instructing our child, a toddler in my fantasy, on how to throw their first punch. "Just remember, little hearts need a soft touch, not just a firm hand."

Feyd's lips pressed against my forehead as our child gave another kick. Lighter this time, thankfully. "I'll try to remember that."

[pooplyface1423]

Hi, I'm not sure if you requests are open but I'd like to ask for a Lucifer Morningstar x oblivious! fem! reader. He met her when he visited the hotel and was immediately intrigued when Charlie told him that she was a a fallen angel. Later on he decides to court her but she is oblivious to his advances. Fluff! Have a good day/night!

OMG I FINALLY GET A REQUEST!!!

Warnings :Fluff ,one kiss and flirting (Lucifer got rizz) Also dialogue will be slightly different from the original

New found Love

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚.・゜゜・

When Charlie told everyone to start cleaning and prepare the hotel since the one and only Lucifer was coming, obviously most of the crew/guests were excited. So cleaning we do!

After helping niffty clean some high places you two went to help sir pentious prepare some delicious cookies.

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After cleaning everyone got in there place and Charlie opens the door!

"Charlie!" Exclaims Lucifer pulling Charlie into a big hug

"Im so happy to see you too dad.." she says Patting her dad's back

"well I'm even happier! Now introduce me to your... lovely? Guest..." He says slowly looking at Sir pentious Angel dust and nifty.

"This is Sir pentious and this is Angel dust-" Charlie says slowly introducing everyone to Lucifer

Once they got to you he looked slightly up meeting your warm smile

"This is y/n and fun fact! She's a fallen angel too!" She says looking at the both of you waiting for a response

"Oh well pleasure to meet you y/n ,so nice to know I'm not the only one here haha.."

"pleasure meeting you too, sir, and yes, pretty cool not being the only angel here!"

After that Lucifer was hooked, wrapped around your finger ugh he was in love...

You were so kind polite ugh 😩

Everything he looks in a partner but it was way to soon to assume. What if you're rude once he gets to know you!? Nah.

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*6 months later...*

After weeks of knowing you he knew you we're the one. But you weren't catching on what he felt no matter what he tried he failed

Examples

He tried to flirt with you late at night in the dining room while you were eating some cookies

Went something like ...

*clears throat* "Y/n other than being pretty what do you do for a living?"

"hmm nothing actually just help Charlie with the hotel if that counts? But thanks for the compliment" You said oblivious to what Lucifer wanted to accomplish

Ugh it's going to be hard to make you get the pick up lines (⁠ ⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⁠⌢⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀⁠).

In another occasion...

He tried asking you out..

*clears throat* "y/n quick question I have to make you"

Him thinking your paying attention continues

"Would you like to um- go on a date...."

Anticipating your answer getting even more never by the second

Looking up you see him with a shocked look

"Omg, I'm so sorry, lucifer. I had my headphones on. Can you repeat that‽"

"O-Oh haha don't worry about it it wasn't anything important!" He said with an embarrassed look on his face

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Overall, the relationship you have with lucifer is weird, not really friends, but rather buddies.

After months of seeing both of you (aka lucifer) struggle to confess vaggie and Charlie get tired of watching this Akwardness and set y'all up on a date!

Great idea, right?....

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Well....

When vaggie told you to get all pretty for an event, she said charlie wanted YOU to attend. (Which was a complete lie)

You obviously had to dress up pretty well. Completely oblivious to what their Intend actually was

Anyway

Once you got there you were seated in an empty restaurant.

"Mhm, maybe u were early?" You thought

Who cares the earlier the better!

But then you saw Lucifer coming thru the doors‽

"Was this a setup!?" You thought trying to cover ur face

Then lucifer was seated right in front of you...

Crap.

"Oh hi y/n! You're here to represent the hotel, too!?" Said lucifer oblivious to why he was actually here for.

"Yeah-"

When your server came for drink orders, Lucifer slowly started to understand why he was here

"OH ME!? Um I want the- um water just plain water... yeah." He said stuttering on his words

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After dinner, you both decided to walk back to the hotel since you were both dropped of by charlie or vaggie. (It would be a 30 min walk from the hotel)

Around 10 minutes into the walk it started raining (ugh)

You both decided to cover yourselves with your wings

➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳

Sadly, you were an angel of lower status, meaning your wings were the same size as the winners

On the other hand, Lucifer used to be a seraphim making his wings way bigger

➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳➳

"Crap," you whisper as u start getting wet because ur wings aren't big enough to cover ur full body

Lucifer luckily noticed and wrapped you in a big hug with his wings

Until he remembered he was with you not charlie

Crap

His fatherly like instinct kicked in the second he saw you were getting wet

He was basically squeezing you against him to keep you warm

An intensive amount of blood rushing to his cheeks turning them red

You noticed taking a slight glance at him

" Oh crap I'm so sorry y/n," he said, letting lose of your body while still being a blushing mess

"Haha, don't worry about it, it's fine. I actually kinda liked it," you said, bumping his shoulder with yours

Making lucifer blush even moreeeeee

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*Once you both got back at the hotel*

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Laughter and joy filled the hotel once you both entered the lobby

Vaggie and charlie being the only ones still awake

Turning around, charlie saw you were both back seeing you were both kinda soaked

"Dad Y/n! How was the date!!?" She said with a big smile as she walked up to the both of you

"The date went pretty well" you both said in unison

You both looked at each other, shocked you both said the same thing at the same time

"Woah that was cool" said vaggie

"Yea, it was, but why don't you both get cleaned up before you catch a cold?" said charlie

"Yea we should" you said, walking up to your guys separate rooms with Lucifer

Lucifer walked you to your room door

"Good night y/n" he said with a warm smile on his face. As he turns around to walk away

"Hey Lucifer" you said gaining his attention

"Yes?"

"I had a fun time with you....wanna go on a 2nd date?"

"OF COURSE, i mean yes, i would love to." He said walking up to you and hugging you so tightly as if he never wanted to let go

Once you both let go of the hug, looking at each other's eyes, Lucifer made the bold move to kiss you, the kiss being passionate and warm.

A kiss neither of you wanted to let go of....

Once the kiss ended he said his goodbyes once again leaving happily to his room

Once the door of both of your guys' rooms was closed, you both started kicking your feet, giggling bout what just happend

Touching his lips, Lucifer giggled even more, feeling giddy thanks to his braveness he was able to kiss you. Yea, he heard that right you! Haha, he was so happy, basically drunk with happiness.

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Phew finally finished!

Sorry for the wait buddy!

Hope y'all like this!

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 3}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader ; Implied Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: A person from your past makes you feel the changes that transformed you into what you are today. A meal shared feels like another change is coming.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv (mentioned), sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: this honestly came out of nowhere. i haven't been writing lately beyond jotting down scene notes and vague ideas,so i've taken a step back from forming actual chapters for the many wips i have at the moment. but this was a good thing to get down amid all the stress of preparing to move for the second time in three months

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

You step back a few paces, instincts reminding you of the last time you saw the man. He looked older, older than he should if only seven years went by. But the stresses of the world made each one seem like a lifetime.

But upon closer inspection, as you realize that maybe he looks…actually in better shape than when you had seen him last. But not being covered in dirt and grime was an easy difference. No, though, he looked healthy. Far better off than your rumpled and stark appearance.

He says your real name and you feel something soften deep inside. You hadn’t heard your actual name since…no, you cut the thought off, not wanting to think anymore about anything to do with the day you lost your brother. You feel the watching eyes of Joel and Tess as the meeting with strangers turns into anything but. Your connection with one of the men seemingly the last of the outcomes they had anticipated.

“Cane.” You correct him. “My name is- it’s Cane.”

“I can call you that, if you prefer. I’m just so glad you’re okay. When that raider dragged you off, I thought-“

“I got away.” You cut him off, not wanting to reveal the way you had ended up being a resident of the Boston Quarantine Zone. It wasn’t important, it was personal, and it was no one’s business but your own now, how it had come to be the reality of your life. It hadn’t been the first blood you spilled but it had certainly been the beginning of the path you walked and paced and snarled your way around today. He must sense your snub, the way you don’t want to dwell on the past. He nods once, eyes glinting as he takes in the two figures behind you. His eyes focus on Tess, a nod to her in greeting as he connects a face to the voice he had been conversing with for a few weeks now.

Frank turns to Bill, his counterpart on the other side of the fence. Allowing you to let out a huff of breath in relief at the passed moment. Or so you thought, Joel’s eyes were heavy on you. Far too weighted and far too vigilant as he no doubt picks up more than the exchange had been.

“Let’s, Bill, let’s get them inside. Get Cane into the shower, you look a little rough around the edges. You didn’t run into any trouble did you?”

The feeling of water cascading hot from the shower head and down your aching body was something you thought you’d never get to experience again. It was such a rare occurrence to get even lukewarm water in the zone, the water pressure weak.

A soft knock sounded through the hush of water, followed by Frank asking if you were comfortable with him coming into the bathroom. You call out a muffled affirmative, body beginning to ache from the way you had trudged through the night to get to the cordoned off city, especially after the way large hands had roughly pushed and pulled at you atop Joel’s shared bed.

“I just…wanted a second alone with you.” The man broke the heavy silence as he settled on a small bench in the room, opposite the vanity. He was worried, you could sense that much.

“That’s okay, it’s your house and I don’t mind.”

“…it could be your house too….if you wanted.”

On the other side of the door, Joel tries to keep his breathing light as he listens in on the conversation. A feeling of protectiveness hard to squash as he saw the other man slink off in search of you. There was something between you two, a shared past. A worry the other man felt entitled to have over you, the utterance of a name foreign to him but meant something to you. Joel wasn’t sure what to think, the way Tess had described him had been all positive and hopeful, a potential trading partner for things they couldn’t find in the rubble of the city remains or within the walls of the zone.

A connection to you was the last thing he had expected out of this trip. And he was on high alert for any issues that might bring to light. He keeps his eyes trained on the end of the upstairs hall, instincts telling him that Bill knows he hadn’t really been in search of a restroom for himself. Another dog with something to protect, with something to defend and fight for. The two men far more alike than they would want to admit and they had only just met. Your voice is quiet, something he had only ever experienced when he walked in on you and Tess alone. So used to you projecting it, to speaking loudly to ensure people heard you and understood the intent behind them.

The vulnerability with a man you obviously knew isn’t lost on him.

“Don’t think Bill would like that.” Cutting under his offer, you want him to realize that it would never work, his life is set up here due to the other man. Even if you were to be minimally evasive and keep to yourself, it was a life you weren’t sure you deserved let alone were worthy of being offered. It would be a disturbance to their way of life, from the gardens they tended to the house they obviously shared as their own.

“Yeah, but even so. We could convince him, if that’s something you’d be interested in. I don’t…I don’t like the thought of you all alone in the zone, fighting everyday for things you deserve to have…”

“I found my brother, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Did…I just…I’m sorry to ask but are you- okay after-“

“Yes.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know. That kind of thing, that violence changes people.”

“I am…okay, for the most part. Change or no change.”

“You don’t…I just want you to know you have a place here. If you’re…resorting to certain things.” His words are hesitant, but firm. He knows you, had known you through your college years. He had been an artist of local renown, in Baltimore. Where you had moved to go to college and stayed after you graduated. You worked with him in his own studio, helped him to organize classes for those interested in the arts and helped to manage his small gallery. But that was a lifetime ago, a paintbrush traded for the butt of a gun in your palm. A flash of teeth in a gummy smile you had offered too easily exchanged for the snarling of teeth as you bared them for anyone who threatened you.

It was a lifetime ago, the turn of your age into the next decade of your life bringing endless and adaptive change. If it was for the better you weren’t sure, but your survival was dependent on it and that’s all that mattered.

Joel feels a tightness in his chest, the inference of the man’s words of violence that had been acted out on a younger version of yourself not settling well, violence that ripped you from the one person who you had been with at the end of the world. The weight of the realization like rocks in his stomach, churning around in his middle. More weight is added as he hears the admittance of you’re the activities he had caught you in the act of doing to earn ration cards, of the activities he had been all too willing to indulge in with you just the night before.

“I don’t like doing it, but it’s kind of a ‘use what ya got’ kinda world now.”

“Cane…”

“It’s fine, I’m not…I’m not bothered by it.”

“Honey, of course you are. Anybody would be. We used to- we used to spend our days painting and setting up gallery shows and that- that’s gone from the world now. There is no more art, there is no more humanity, there is only-“

“I’m not anybody.” You feel your lips part in a show of teeth, hissing the words out as anger flares and memories of a time passed cross your mind. You were so naïve, to think the world would allow you to be who you wanted. For anyone to be who they wanted, but now it molds you into something inhumane, weather you find yourself infected or not. “I’m a survivor and I have power in the zone, with or without those I traveled with here today.”

“Okay….I’ll let you finish washing up and I’ll get you a change of clothes, that sound alright?”

“….thank you, Frankie.”

“Of course, anything for you. Always.”

Thoughts of a younger you set in front of a large canvas atop an easel flashes before Joel’s eyes as he quietly descends the stairs. A paintbrush replacing the commonality of a gun in your grip, light in your eyes instead of a dark threat. It was an uncomfortable one, to find out just how much you had been altered. He knew the pain of being transformed beyond recognition and he hated for the knowledge of your past as it burrowed into his brain and refused to leave.

A table is set up outside, Frank insisting on enjoying the gentle breeze that graced the day. A lace trimmed white tablecloth atop it for dishes and wine glasses and cloth napkins to be set atop. A meal to try and tide the churning waters of an agreement, the combining of two factions. Everyone is seated at one of the four sides of the small table, an extra chair beside Frank for you two to share one.

Bill’s back is to the house, to allow him a full view of the street and surrounding area within the gate of his land. Joel is opposite him and to your right, Tess is across from you. It’s all so close an imitation of family dinners you used to have before you left to embark on your own life. Though the people surrounding you couldn’t be any different.

The four of them had fallen silent at your appearance once you came down the steps. Hands itching to run over and smooth down the flowing fabric of the dress Frank had gifted you to change into. A white, floral-patterned fabric you would’ve once fawned over. But now it feels like some sick, twisted joke even if you knew the man hadn’t intended for it to be taken that way. He had been working off memories of your preferences, not knowing who you were now.

Tess’s lips had lifted at the corners, though she hid it well at the way your eyes had cut through her when you heard the small chuckle she had tamped down on. Joel’s eyes had roved over you, an expression unreadable and far too harsh in the daylight back outside. Frank had been elated, praising how well it fit you and he was so glad it was the right size, that the pattern looked lovely and you cleaned up nicely. Bill had nodded along, most likely warned by his partner to be nice to you, though he hadn’t looked to thrilled that you had been left alone inside his home. He seemed so much like Joel, though there was no worry for him to reach out and grab you by the throat.

“Well, this really is just- it- it’s amazing.” You keep your eyes downcast at your place setting, the way Tess stumbled over her words unfamiliar. She was trying so hard to keep her own tendency to come off as threatening out of her demeanor and you wondered if it was closer to the that of the woman she had once been. Shirking herself back into that mindset in order to appeal to the men whose trade you admittedly, desperately needed.

The city is getting more dangerous to scavenge as time continues on. Supplies and even everyday items so scarce it doesn’t justify the risk of sneaking out of the zone much. You worry for the future, as things only seem to be getting more dire. As the hangings increase, as the Fireflies gain traction and power among the unrest.

“Right?” Frank smiles so openly and brightly at her across from you, reaching for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table. He reaches over to fill the half-empty crystal glass before her, the scent of it strong as it catches in the wind. You take the final sip of your own glass, catching Joel’s gaze out of the corner of your eye. You feel more than see the way his eyes trace the stain of the dark wine on your lips, how it dampens them as it clings to the plush of your bottom lip. How he shifts in his seat as you swipe your tongue over it to collect the errant drops.

“Mhm.”

“Can you not, please?” Joel’s eyes shift to the gun gripped tightly in Bill’s hand atop the table. Frank’s as well, an exasperated edge in his voice. The roll of his eyes he tries to fight making warmth flare in your chest for being able to recall it so clearly and aimed at you in the past. He’s much the same man he was when you knew him, but almost…happier now despite the fall of the world. He’s found his person and that does change people, you can see it in his boosted confidence and comfortability. He’s protected here, until he wishes not to be.

“I’m the same way.” Joel offers, to bridge the gap and mind the tension in the air.

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic too?” Frank chuckles, shoulder bumping yours but you don’t join him in the banter. You feel wildly out of place, aside from having to share an edge of the table. It had been so long since you sat down at a clean table, a dressed table laden down with crystal glasses and fine ceramic. A meal made from scratch, hot and actually tasting like food.

“I’m not schizophrenic.”

“Sure.” Frank moves to fill your glass at the nod of your head, he knows you favored red once upon a time, the perfect paring for the meal Bill had been kind enough to offer you all.

Tess clears her throat and it strikes something in you. She’s acting more like she does when she’s alone with you, letting the glimpse of who she is shine amongst the pair. It’s easy to see now why Joel is by her side, she’s much better spoken than you. She’s good at knowing what to do and when. But then again she does have a decade on you much like he does. More experience in a world that had been whole and allowed for different skills.

“Well, can I just say, uh, gun aside, which I get, by the way.” A nod to Bill, to let him know he’s seen and understood. “How nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a, a beautiful place. It’s been so long.”

The unspoken but very loud ‘can’t get these two to stay in the same room long enough to even eat rations without an argument breaking out’ sentiment hits you like a brick wall. She knows, is the first thought you have, and it freezes the blood in your veins. She knows what you and Joel did but she hadn’t voiced it or confronted you about it. Perhaps she confronted him or had just known the second she walked into the apartment last night but either way, you know you have to be honest when she approaches you.

“I just wanna say, uh, thank you. Even if we don’t end up working together. Which I wouldn’t fault you, these two tend to rub some people the wrong way. I really needed this.”

“We are working together.” Frank raises his own glass to mirror hers, his other hand reaching for yours atop the table to shake it gently and reassuringly. “We are. Even if Cane hadn’t turned out to be the third party of your group. Though it was such a pleasant surprise.”

They clink their glasses together, urging you to do so as well. Your glass now full for a second time as well.

“You know what? Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.”

“Actually I have been…waiting to see inside.”

“No. Not inside.” Bill tries to reign them in but neither are paying much attention to the table anymore, already getting up from their seats, full wine glasses in hand.

“Darling, do you want to join us?” Frank offers, reaching for your hand to help you up. But you shake your head, not wanting to go back inside so soon.

“Oh, um, no thank you. The fresh air is…”

“Of course,” He slides a hand over your shoulder, comforting and grounding.

Bill calls out his name once, then again with more force as they begin to walk away from the table, leaving the controlled setting. Both parties are laughing as they disappear inside the house with their wine glasses. He huffs as he looks from you to Joel, not having anticipated this course of events.

“I understand.” Joel speaks up across from him. He’s chewing a bite he had just taken, a second helping taken when offered still on his plate. He doesn’t even look in your direction, his attention solely on the other man at the table. “If my, uh…if mine…brought strangers into our situation, I wouldn’t be happy either.”

“Thought this one was yours.” Bill tips his head in your direction, genuine curiosity thinly veiled in his tone.

“No. This one is on her own.” His voice hardens, giving away his distaste for the insinuation.

“I’m no ones, certainly not his.” You feel the need to speak up, not willing to let them both talk about you as if you weren’t right there. It was not only insulting, but to insinuate that you could be anybody’s was more than aggravating. Joel ignores you, but Bill’s eyes meet yours briefly, gauging you silently.

“But of all the people he could’ve found on the radio, we’re actually decent people just tryin’ to get by.”

“Oh, well aren’t I the lucky one.” Bill scoffs, eyes trained back on Joel and remaining.

“There’s stuff we have in the zone that you don’t have here. Books, medicine, machine parts. We can help each other and get that gun outta my face.” There’s a hint of the man he is in the zone as his voice pitches low, a threat that he would act on in a heartbeat with the slightest inclination. Bill heeds the threat, knowing he would meet it head on. Both aware of the fragility of the situation, both aware of their people inside the house alone with each other and getting along. Bill concedes and the gun is locked before placed back in its holster.

“So, what, you were a…prepper or somethin’?”

“’Survivalist’.” Bill doesn’t continue eating, like Joel does. Ever the picture of controlled ease as he chews bite after bite on his plate. But the language of his body is obvious to you, he’s primed and ready to lunge, ready to fight, to kill. Something you had washed off in the shower with the appearance of someone you once thought long dead. “Maybe you are decent people, Frank vehemently vouches for her. But maybe you aren’t and maybe she’s changed. Doesn’t matter. We’re self-sufficient here. I don’t need you or your friend, or her complicating our lives. Is that clear?”

Even if you aren’t focused on one of them for more than a moment, eyes flitting between them evenly, you see the way Joel glances at the perimeter fence. Seeing something you don’t or can’t, had seen since first approaching it, keeping it to himself and only revealing it with his next words.

“That fence has got a year on it, tops. The galvanized wire already started to corrode. I can get you ten spools of high-tensile aluminum. Last you the rest of your life.” He seems to think better of his words and with another swallow of chewed food, remedies it. “Lives.”

The realization that Joel could be polite, he could be cordial, and he could assert himself in a nonviolent way to appeal to someone and get what he wants without shedding blood, breaking bones, or slinging harsh words is a hard realization. All you’ve known from him is backhanded comments about your skills, about your willingness to let them into the world you had helped shape in the zone. Someone who had come in with the intention of asserting his dominance over those already in charge had faltered only when you showed your own teeth. And he never let you forget the way you had showed your belly to allow them to be a part of it, no matter how mutually beneficial the situation was.

He saw you as weak and it’s glaringly apparent in the way that he tries to appeal to the man across from him now. A man who has things Joel has set his sights on, wants to get his hands on. But it’s much more than them both being men, it’s much more than them both being so similar in nature. It’s about the respect they have for each other, it’s as plain as day. The commonality of a kinder and gentler handler of a partner at their sides. Someone to protect that have bonded with each other.

It further proves how alone you truly are. The wine sours in your stomach, the food spoils and you excuse yourself from the table. Bill’s hand is back over the gun holstered to his side but pushes up out of his chair and follows you. Joel watches until as the man follows you to where you had sought space on the curb of the street, his brow furrowing and his mouth turning down as he thinks you’ve just ruined any hope of finding agreement.

“Save it, neither of you have even considered what I have-“

“Look, I’m not much for being honest these days. The world doesn’t care anymore and I never did even before it fell. But,” He’s sitting down beside you, a grunt at the low level nearly flush with the ground. A few feet separate you, but you understand the meaning of him doing so. Willingly putting himself beside you and at a disadvantage should you be brave enough to try something.

“I wasn’t willing to even entertain the thought of reaching out on the radio. But Frank was determined to wade through the signals. And he did all of it in search of you. He’s devoted so much time to finding you, alive or dead. And when he couldn’t find word, he didn’t leave the bed for weeks. He’s been haunted by your ghost since the day he stumbled onto my land. And yet, God delivered you to him alongside two people offering trade. You say I think of you as fodder, but you don’t know me. I may not really know you, but I know what you mean to Frank. That makes this worth the trouble and the risk. Not some one trying to appeal to me across the table, not some woman who Frank is set on impressing. It’s you. I can see through the act of that one back at the table a mile away, he’s behaving though he doesn’t want to. But you haven’t tried to hide you who are, what you are.”

“I didn’t feel the need to, not here, not with Frankie.”

“I know you may not be the same person he remembers and share stories with, but he’s gone through all the efforts to set this up. He was going to ask them if they had any word of you, he never gave up hope that somehow you had survived that raider tearing you out if his grip as you both ran from the ambush of their group. Something tells me you have the sway the two with you think they have, have become accustomed to because you allow them to reap the rewards of it.”

“It’s a partnership. Protection for equal shares of everything. I provide the knowledge. One person alone can’t hold their own any longer, certainly not in the zone.”

“You have the knowledge.” He agrees quietly, his eyes locking with yours as you look over at him.

“We’re you runnin’ off to?” Joel’s voice doesn’t startle you, but it’s unexpected in the doorway of the back porch. You had slipped out of your room the second you were sure everyone had been settled long enough to sleep, or at least resolve themselves to trying to rest for the night. It can’t be easy for either Joel or Bill to rest knowing the other doesn’t trust them, but you hadn’t anticipated anyone leaving their rooms at the late hour. Stars twinkle above in the sky, visible through the windows unobstructed by screens. You had just wanted to come out and see them, get some fresh air.

“Didn’t want to impose.” Your voice is quiet, though not in meekness, it’s swathed in the worry of waking a house full of people.

“We were offered rooms for the night, wouldn’t call that imposing.” He exhales heavily as he moves to stand beside where you are before one of the large panes of glass, looking out. “Besides, Frank seems to be easy on you, doubt he would say no to anything you needed.”

“Yeah, well, room’s too big, house is too big.” He watches you, catching the sight of your eyes tracing the landscape bathed in night and shadows. You absently wonder if he can smell the body wash you had used earlier, different from your own back in the zone but had washed the lingering scent of him on your skin all the same.

“Can’t get outta the gate on your own.”

“No, but it’s better than being stuck in that house.”

“It bothers you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Truly, you don’t. There’s no way he’s privy to the feelings and desperation to push down memories of the past that have endlessly bubbled up today, trying to drown you as they reach for the surface.

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you’re not.” His hands rest on his hips, the clinking of his belt buckle ever present loud in the silence of the night. Of the open land just beyond the enclosed porch. “You’re uncomfortable because they’re in a room and me ‘n Tess are in one.”

“I couldn’t care less about the sleeping arrangements.”

“Then what is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You think to tell him of how suffocating it was in that room, not because you were alone but because of how much it reminds you of where you used to live. But Joel isn’t one for you to be open with, to share honestly with. He’s been nothing but demeaning when it comes to any humanity you dare to show, conversations with Tess cut short the second he opens the door to wherever you are. The reason you don’t linger or share meals, the reason you don’t know why he had allowed for last night’s activities to happen and now they feel heavy, like a mistake you had let yourself fall into that never should have happened.

“Cane.” When you don’t respond, he voices the name Frank had called from behind the fence when he recognized you. It’s like an arrow to the heart, striking true and killing that part of you all over again. A name you had never expected to be called again, let alone by Joel Miller as he tries to get you to speak plainly with him. For once and never likely again.

“Drop it.” Your voice rasps, the scream you feel building in your chest desperately trying to break free.

“Not until you tell me.”

“Just because your mouth’s been on me-“

“That’s not what this- Jesus, fine, be difficult like you always are. I’m goin’ back inside.” He’s turning away, stepping toward the back steps. You hear the sound of his boots on the wood but only the first step before he’s whipping back around with a glare. “If this falls through, it’s on you. Not me and not Tess, you. And if that’s the case, maybe you should begin to consider that offer to stay here. And if that doesn’t pan out, don’t come crawling back to us.”

You don’t look at him or think of telling him the deal has been made because of you, and his steps take him further away from you, leaving you to sit on the outdoor furniture that reminds you too much of your old home. Of the one you once shared with family, of the one you had shared with Franke. Both more than likely just rubble or overtaken by twisted and decayed cordyceps. You feel the scream thicken your throat, swelling it up to make you try to gasp out for air to release it but it comes out as a harsh prattling sob. Your resolve to be strong cracking for the first time in years.

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@tobethlehem

[nathaslosthershit]

We need to try that again|| Jack Hughes x reader

Pairing: Jack Hughes x reader

Warnings: I never know what warnings to give, kissing (?)

Summary: In the heat of the moment, you kiss your boyfriend. The only problem? It was your first kiss with each other and he doesn’t feel he got to “savor” it enough. What a dork.

A/n: This is corny I know and probably so far from what Jack is like but let a girl be delusional. 

Word Count: 800+

You and Jack would be cooking a meal together, alone and in the comfort of your own home. Or, maybe he would play an intense and very important game where he scored the game winning goal in OT and you two would meet afterwards, running into each other's arms like it was a cheesy romance film. Maybe he'd take you to a nice dinner and before getting into the car ask “can I kiss you?”

Maybe these fantasies were stupid to spend your time thinking about but after almost a month of dating Jack, almost a month without a single kiss, you had been hoping for something romantic and sweet to mark your first of, hopefully, many kisses. But there has been nothing. Nada. You have been patient and were happy to wait longer for him but just wanted to know, why? Why has it taken so long for him to kiss you?

But now that you think about it, you could easily kiss him first. Maybe it doesn’t matter if its sweet and well thought out. Maybe what you needed was a heated, spur of the moment kiss with your beautiful boyfriend.

But is that what you wanted, something not thought out? Didn’t you crave the anticipation of waiting knowing it was about to happen. Knowing that the butterflies in your stomach fluttered at the same velocity as the ones in his.

While lost in thought Jack had managed to finally reach your apartment. He was supposedly at practice. Actually there was no practice but that's what he told you so you'd be surprised when he came over with take-out and flowers. On his way over, he had to bite his lip to stop the stupid smile on his face, but the older woman passing by noticed it, as well as his urgency and the flowers in his hand, and gave him a knowing smile as she laughed while walking in the opposite direction. It was clear to everyone, those in his life and those just observing, that this relationship was different and he treated it as such. 

He enjoyed the feeling of getting almost dizzy from all the excitement of being around you. It was new and so unlike anything he'd had with anyone else in the past. That's why he couldn’t get himself to make any new moves. It's scary to act when you feel something so intensely. 

Opening the door to reveal a very smiley Jack Hughes was a very shocking but very welcome surprise. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Wow come on don’t be too excited to see me” he replies snarkily. 

“Im sorry, I just thought you'd had practice, you did tell me you had practice, did you not?”

“I did but I didn’t have practice. Wanted to surprise you so I stretched the truth a little. You aren’t upset about that, right?” He suddenly looked worried.

In that split second, you had made up your mind. Grabbing his collar and kissing him deeply, he drops the bag of food and flowers from impact. The noise they made startled you enough to come to your senses. As you quickly pull away, you can see a mix of confusion, panic, and possibly lust on his face. His silence snaps you out of your post kiss daze enough to start freaking out.

“Shit, Jack. I don't know what- I wasn’t thinking, i'm so-”

“We need to try that again.” 

“Excuse me”

“You just kissed me”

“...I did”

“Quickly.”

“I guess”

“I didn’t get to savor it.” He coughs out. At this admission, his face is bright red and grows an even deeper red when he hears your laugh.

“Savor it? Oh my god, Jack, what romcom did you take that line from?”

“You know what? Maybe i'll enjoy these flowers and this food by myself if you want to-”

“Just get inside, Jack. I'll kiss you again but only if we aren't standing in the hallway for all my neighbors to see.”

When you pull him in and close the door, you realize this is what you had hoped for. Shared butterflied as you look at one another, waiting for the other to make a move, knowing what was next and being as excited as you were nervous for it. 

Finally he pulls you in.

“Much better” Jack mumbles against your lips.

[steddiewithachance]

Will You Still Need Me?

Summary: Steve Harrington is avoiding telling his professional-musician-boyfriend, Eddie, that he's going deaf because he's worried about what will happen when he does.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Or Read on AO3

June 13, 1992: A month later

Steve startles awake when he hears something fall on the other side of the apartment. The bed’s empty, he notices. That's disappointing. Steve brushes a hand across Eddie’s side of the bed to feel how cold it is, to check how long Eddie’s been up for, but he pauses when he feels a piece of paper where his boyfriend should be. Did Eddie leave a note? That goof.

Steve snatches it off the pillow and holds it over his face.

Steve, 

I was going to recite to you this big long monologue of all the reasons I love you and all the ways you’re important to me, but maybe it’s better if you read them. Don’t want you to miss a single syllable of my devotion to you, Sweetness. So I made a long cheesy trail of notes for you to follow, don’t make fun of me for it.

Yours Always,

Teddy

Steve is still half asleep so it takes him another groggy read-through to understand what he’s looking at. 

He sits up and does indeed see a trail of little pink notes, photographs, and rose petals twisting around the bedroom, under the door, and presumably down the hall. And Steve’s heart is pounding because, well he doesn’t want to get his hopes up or anything, but this sappy romantic gesture sounds like a precursor to something bigger. He’s frozen in place, too afraid to move. He eventually scoots off the bed and picks up the first note. 

‘I love you for engaging in my interests even though I wouldn’t blame you for not caring.’ It’s paired with an old photo of a DND game with the kids. Eddie’s DMing with Steve on his lap. 

The next few: ‘I love you for always trying to make little kids in shopping carts smile when we pass them at the store.’ and ‘I love how you can tell if I wasn’t in the shower long enough to condition my hair to your high standards so you make me get back in and do it right. Sometimes I take quick showers just so you’ll lay into me for it.’

The notes and photos are a lot more random than Steve had anticipated. ‘I love the way you will patiently explain the rules of various sports to me even when it’s been seven years of watching games together and I still don’t get it.’ There’s a photo near that note that was taken by Robin of the time Steve and Eddie swapped clothes at a sleepover. Eddie’s posing in Steve’s letterman jacket and tiny gym shorts and Steve is giggling in the background dressed in leather and denim. 

Steve gets to the door and realizes none of the notes have mentioned music or anything related to Eddie’s shows at all. Steve wonders if it was a conscious decision. Wonders if Eddie was being sensitive about Steve’s hearing problem. He swings the door open to see the trail continue all the way down the hall and around the corner. He huffs and keeps reading. There are notes about being a good “mom”, one about Eddie cherishing the nights they cook together. There’s a note about Steve’s smile, what it felt like to decorate their first apartment together, how Eddie loves that both of them have taken to calling Wayne “Pops”, but none about music. When Steve finally rounds the corner he sees Eddie sitting on the couch nervously.

“This was actually a terrible idea because I had to listen to you slowly shuffle down the hallway reading my notes. My anxiety is at an all-time high!” Eddie announces dramatically and Steve laughs. 

On the coffee table in front of him, there’s a big bouquet of flowers and a basket full of snacks and skin/hair care products that Steve loves. This is all a fucking lot. Positive attention makes Steve’s skin crawl. Eddie pats the couch and Steve slowly ambles over. He sits down and proceeds to not know what to do with himself.

“Stevie,” Eddie digs into his pocket and sets a little green velvet box on Steve’s thigh. 

Oh boy. 

“Obviously we can’t do anything legal, but I still want you to know that I wanna be yours forever. A tangible promise of loyalty. Is that okay?” 

Steve covers his face. He doesn’t know how people handle being proposed to in public. It’s mortifying enough in private. All he can do is nod. He feels Eddie prop the little box open. Inside is a golden ring, patterned with fancy flourishes. It reminds Steve of ornate picture frames in art galleries. He likes it a lot. Steve holds out his left hand.

Eddie beams, slips the ring on, and looks like he’s relieved it fits.

“Mwahaha. You’re mine now.” Eddie proclaims with the tone he uses to voice villains when he plays DND. Then he grabs Steve’s left hand and pushes the middle and ring finger down while pulling out the thumb, pointer, and pinky. Steve’s pinky finger barely stays up on its own but Eddie gives him a coy smile.

“This means ‘I love you’ in sign language.” 

And that’s the first expression Steve learns in ASL.

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of It - Anniversary

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings.

Word count: 1,800

Summary: After two years together, Jason takes her out somewhere special for their anniversary.

Masterlist

It was mid morning when Jason called. 

That was deeply unusual, this month especially. He had been so busy lately she barely saw him except for the days she got up and found him dead to the world on the other side of her bed.

Idly cataloguing the possible reasons for the call, Andy turned down the radio and stepped away from her laptop.

A serious injury? Unlikely, that call typically came from Alfred and would have happened three hours ago. Location compromised, maybe? Pretty good chance, although it wasn’t usually a call but an emergency alert telling her to get her ass out the door. Maybe he was loopy on fear-toxin antidote again and needed to hear she was still alive. 

Most likely situation was Jason calling to tell her he was leaving the country, or the planet, or possibly the universe. Given the timing, it would be… well. Not crushing, but disappointing. 

Two years into this relationship, she knew better than to get too precious about calendar dates. 

“Hello?” she said with a jaunty tilt of her head. No pre-emptive sulking, she refused. 

“Hey beautiful,” Jason’s voice came through the little speaker. It was warm and low. “I’ve missed your voice.”

Her eyebrows rose and relief lit up her face. “Did you just? I’ve got a presentation tomorrow that needs some rehearsing, want to listen to my dulcet tones talk about community support funding?”

He laughed. “I would actually, but I’d rather hear the whole story from the beginning. Are you free this saturday?”

“Hmm, am I free this saturday?” she drawled. “On our anniversary?”

“Yup, that saturday.”

“Why, yes, baby, I think I am. Why do you ask?”

“You’re not free anymore. I’m calling dibs.” 

“Oh?” She dared to feel not just relief but anticipation. 

“8pm. I’ll come get you.” 

“Alright. How am I dressing? Steel capped boots? Running shoes? Ballet flats?” She had learned the vital importance of this question since going out with him. Jason’s plans were best faced prepared. 

“Heels,” he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. “Wear that slinky red number you hide at the back of the closet.”

She paused. Of course he’d seen it. “I’ve… never actually worn that before.”

“What did you get it for then?” he asked, teasing. 

“Oh, you know. Maybe I’ll get invited to the Oscars.”

He laughed, low and promising. “I’ll make you feel like you did.”

She bit her lip. She was grinning like an idiot, alone in her own apartment. Two years in and she could still melt her with a word. 

“Okay.” 

“I’ll see you Saturday, sweetheart.” 

They hung up and she drifted to her closet, eyeing up the dress. 

He couldn’t make their first anniversary. The planet was under an invasion while Bruce was off-world dealing with some other, separate invasion, so Jason and Dick split up cowl temping duties. Dick went to go play Batman with the Justice League and Jason stayed to play Batman in Gotham. 

He was more than capable of it and the average criminal didn’t even realise there was a different guy under the cowl. They just thought Batman was feeling extra mean this month. But it more than doubled his workload.

It didn’t blindside her. They were both disappointed but didn’t make a fuss, they had a system in place for these things. Both made compromises and extended grace to the other, and their relationship was stronger for it.

All the same, when Saturday night rolled around and she heard the purr of a car rolling up outside, excitement fizzed in her chest like bubbles in champagne.

She put on her finishing touches and went out to meet him. 

Jason waited for her in a perfectly tailored black suit. He didn’t fancy himself up very often, or ever, in fact. Having him dressed up was more of a luxury than the McLaren sports car he was leaning against. 

She drank in the sight of him. He looked like he could put Brucie Wayne to shame. The smirk on his face completed the ensemble.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said. 

She wore her floor length evening dress, with a halter neck and the most indulgent plunging neckline she had ever worn, to say nothing of the split in the skirt. It was also bright red. She felt a little shy in it, but it wasn’t a dress for hiding in. She had towering black stilettos on her feet and a lazy swing in her hips. She wanted him to look his fill. 

His eyes roamed over her with open appreciation. They were shortly followed by his hands, settling on her hips. He pulled her to him.

How was he still so much taller than her? 

He kissed her, slow and deep and hungry. She leaned into him. He luxuriated in her. 

Her night was off to a wonderful start. 

Once they could bring themselves to part, he helped her into the car, and drove them off into the night. She put her hand on his thigh. He interlocked his fingers with hers and drove one handed. Gotham’s lights flashed by as they left their native little corner of the city behind. They wound through the Diamond District. 

They slowed to a stop in the courtyard of a softly glowing restaurant. There was a cellist playing in the foyer. She recognised the name in a looping font over the door. She’d read it on some list of world best’s. 

“You did not get a booking here on Wednesday. Did you?” 

“I booked a year ago.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to miss it twice.” 

She squeezed his hand. A ‘thank you’ wouldn’t encapsulate just how much it meant to her. She knew the case he was working on wasn't wrapped up yet. He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. 

She looked out the window at the people getting out of cars ahead of them. Doubt niggled at the back of her head.

“I may not actually be fancy enough for these people,” she confessed. 

Jason scoffed. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna put everyone else here to shame.” He killed the engine and turned to her. “They should be grateful for the privilege of seeing you. I know I am.” 

She smiled, ducking her head a little. He tilted her chin back up and looked into her eyes, leaning down towards her. 

“You know these windows are tinted?” he said. 

She snorted a laugh. He snatched a kiss. 

“If you smudge my makeup, so help me.” 

“Sweets, you know that’s a challenge.” He tipped her chin higher and kissed her neck, expertly dodging where she had blended her foundation into her skin. 

She sighed. She loved this ridiculous man so much.

A valet tapped his window and Jason drew back with a sly grin. 

He got out and came around to open her door for her. It was a necessity given how low the seats and how tall her heels were, but she was happy to lean into the fantasy as he took her hand. 

Doubt was for behind closed doors. With the world watching she stepped out into the courtyard in a flutter of red silk and her chin held high. Jason slung an arm around her waist, resting low on her hip. They walked like they belonged because who the hell was going to tell them they didn’t? 

They were welcomed in by the maitre d’ and led across the packed restaurant floor. Jason caressed the curve of her hip without shame. 

She spotted the empty table their path led them to. Jason stiffend at her side. 

At the table directly next to it sat another couple, presumably also on a date. Bruce Wayne and a gorgeous brunette with a pixie cut, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. 

Bruce glanced their way only briefly, and his expression froze. 

Dread broke through his public persona for just a moment, a look perfectly mirrored on his son’s face. The collision course was set. Jason walked like he was approaching the gallows. 

The brunette noticed the hiccup and looked back, revealing Miss Selina Kyle. She looked at Andy and rolled her eyes in commiseration. 

“Actually,” Andy said, tossing her hair back and stopping in place. 

The maitre d’ paused in his path. 

“I would love to sit on the mezzanine floor. With the wall of flowers? It must be so beautiful.”

She ruthlessly silenced her internal scream over making a fuss. She was not surrendering her evening to Wayne bullshit. She got waxed for this. 

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am, the orchid display isn’t currently available, we are preparing an exciting new display for the spring after Poison Ivy-”

“It’s what I want,” she said pleasantly. 

“Of course.” 

The maitre d’ redirected them with perfect poise. He whispered in a passing waiter’s ear, and led them to the stairs. 

Jason took her hand and squeezed it in silent thanks. The tension seeped back out of him. She squeezed back. 

The mezzanine was comparatively quiet, with a giant print of Monet’s water lilies erected to cover some construction works. It had a lovely view of the rest of the restaurant however and the glinting chandeliers hung down over the main floor. 

Table settings were arranged for them with a swiftness and subtlety even Alfred Pennyworth would approve of. Jason got to sit with his back to a wall and with sightlines over the entire pace, which always made him more comfortable. The table was small, they sat very close together, making it feel more intimate and private. 

There were no prices on the menu and she didn’t grasp what the minimalist dish names actually meant. For a moment it filled her with a mute panic. Jason gave her a calm look and played with her hand on the table.

“We’ll have the chef’s menu, and the paired champagne for the table,” he said. 

She was more than happy to be swept along. And she could pronounce the champagne better than the waiter, which calmed her fear of making a fool of herself. Jason managed to look exactly as at home here as he did while having a smoke on top of a dumpster in the Alley. 

The food was all delicious, albeit in tiny portions on very large plates.

Below the table Jason ran his hand up her bare thigh, his fingers sneaking under the split in the dress.

She made eye contact as she licked the last of a creamy sorbet off her spoon. He watched with unadulterated focus. She ran her bare leg against his briefly, tastefully, and then retreated. He smirked at her. It was the smile of a man who knew exactly where his evening was heading.

He lifted his glass, with the last of its golden liquid in it. “To another year, beautiful.” 

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[onboardsorasora]

Please do not perceive me. That said, that video was fanfiction. 2k wrds.

When Josh pulled up to the ranch, he’d been stunned. The driveway alone had been like two miles long and all the horses had truly made up for the long drive. He parked his truck beside Daniel’s grinning to himself at the stickered 3 emblazoned on the back window. Daniel couldn’t not announce himself.

Speaking of announcing himself, the front door opened and Daniel’s grin greeted him before he even got out of the truck. He could see the excited energy vibrating through him and honestly, Josh was excited too.

Had he expected the text from Daniel however many months ago asking to collab? Nope. Had he expected for Daniel’s people (he just knew it was Nick) to get Beats involved? Nope. Did it become a bigger thing than he originally anticipated? Yup.

When Daniel had sent him the link to the ranch, he’d had no thoughts, he didn’t even know the plan if he’f been honest. He’d just agreed because Daniel asked. Because he’d always agree if Daniel asked.

So when Daniel had texted ‘do you wanna maybe make like a parody of brokeback mountain and talledega nights?’ Josh had agreed happily and eagerly. He wasn’t quite sure exactly how they planned to catch the vibe of those two very opposite movies, but he hoped that at the very least there could be some kissing and cuddling involved.

“Mate, you made it!” Daniel’s grin was infectious and Josh wasted no time enveloping him into a long hug. They hadn’t actually seen each other in a while, not since February. Not since Daniel had giggling trusted him to lift him from the stage. Josh’s fingers clenched in Daniel’s shirt at the reminder of the last time he got to hold him close.

“Of course, wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Josh shrugged when they pulled back. He grabbed his duffel bag from the backseat and followed Daniel into the house. It was beautiful, with romanesque columns and all sorts of Tuscan finishings. Daniel showed him what rooms they would be filming in and then what rooms they could stay in. His bedroom was across from Daniel’s and he could see Daniel’s own amalgamation of important race week bags were already strewn haphazardly in a corner. 

“Oh mate! I’ve got to show you!” Daniel cut off his own excited rambling to grab Josh’s hand and drag him through the hallways. Josh followed dutifully with a fond half smile, he enjoyed the view of Daniel’s smaller frame tugging him along like an excited boyfriend on vacation. 

“Minnie told me not to like peek but I did anyway and– mate!” Daniel unzipped a bag and took out a pair of matching rodeo outfits, complete with tassels. Josh’s eyes widened. Wait what?

“That’s.. Amazing.” He grinned, taking what was clearly his outfit of the pair. Daniel started chattering about the plan again, what made it to the creative brief. Josh listened with half an ear as words like horses, interviews, merch and bubblebath were thrown about. 

“A bubble bath?” Josh raised a brow when Daniel blushed. 

“I– Chad suggested it and I– I can do that scene alone if like you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want– uhm, fuck.” Daniel clenched his eyes shut then opened them again, he looked apologetic. “I mean it’s not very necessary if you think about it so I’ll like tell em to can it. We don’t have to–”

Josh found himself talking before he could think about it. “No– no its fine. We can do it. It’s probably like good for narration or something.” He shrugged casually, and Daniel smiled softly at him. There was a simmering in his belly that he staunchly ignored. 

They put the outfits back and walked around the place, marveling at the general ostentatiousness of the place. Daniel hip checked him in a corridor and Josh shoved Daniel with his shoulder, snorting with laughter when he went careening into a column. They laughed until they were breathless and then laughed some more. Somehow, Josh ended up with an armful of Daniel and he walked them the rest of the way to the kitchen turned catering set up.

The crew started showing up after that and Josh realized he truly hadn’t anticipated how he would feel having Daniel on set with him. He hadn’t anticipated having to school his features out of the soft dopey grins he knew became his resting face when Daniel was around. When Daniel laughed. 

He had to turn away when they were changing. He didn’t quite know if he preferred Daniel undressed all the way to his brightly patterned boxers or Daniel in the matching brown cowboy playsuit. Looking over to see Daniel leaning into his bag and how tight the pants stretched across his hips, ass and thighs, Josh decided it was a close thing. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his side before walking out of the room so he didn’t do something stupid like grab Daniel by the hips.

On set, they stood by the horse they were filming while listening to the direction of the scene.

“Alright Josh, so I want you to grab Daniel by the hips and–” Josh’s ears stopped working he felt. There was a tone, a static. He was sure he hadn’t heard that correctly. He shook his head lightly and blinked before noticing that Daniel was looking back at him in concern.

“You ok, mate?” Daniel asked softly, mindful of all the mics all around them.

“Nah yeah. I’m great. It's cool.” Josh rambled with a smile, Daniel smiled back.

He rested his hands on Daniel’s hips and swallowed a rattled breath. Daniel’s hands came to rest over his, and then he lifted him onto the horse. Grabbing Daniel’s hand, Josh helped himself onto the back of the horse behind Daniel and reached around him to grab the reins. He’d died and gone to heaven or hell, he didn’t know. This was a lot. Too much maybe.

Distantly, he knew Daniel knew how to ride horses, how to mount and dismount. He didn’t dare ask the question rattling around his head as they rode around the small paddock. He leaned forward at the behest of their director and Daniel’s body molded to his. He swore he heard Daniel exhale sharply, but it was covered off by a giggle. 

Josh decided that this was indeed hell.

He looked over at a grinning Daniel at the other end of the bathtub. The bubbles came up to Daniel’s dark nipples and the water lapped at his chest and tattoos. Daniel was blowing bubbles to a phone and giggling, Josh counted backwards from 3000 in his head. 

Daniel shifted and brought his knees up, and they pressed against Josh’s upturned ones.  Josh added another thousand to his count.

The director couldn’t call for cut fast enough and Josh was already out of the water muttering about needing to piss. He didn’t look at Daniel as he wrapped a checkered towel around his waist and walked the longer route back to their rooms. He knew he passed like four other bathrooms along the way but he didn’t care, he needed some distance from the wet, half naked porn fantasy that was his friend Daniel Ricciardo.

He walked into his room and flopped face down on the bed. He had a half chub and a very clear image of how easily he could just… press Daniel into the bed and make him moan. Which was very bad. Not the best thing to be feeling for his friend. His friend who wanted to spend time together even if it was for work. Josh couldn’t be lusting after him, couldn’t be the guy that ruins a friendship over a crush.

He didn’t know how long he’d sequestered himself for before there was a knock on the door. “Josh?” Daniel’s voice was soft as he pushed the door open. Josh flopped onto his back, starfish style. “Mate, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine– sorry. Fuck. I’ll– just give me like 5 and I’ll be back.” Josh dragged a hand down his face. 

“It's fine, I told everyone to take a break. Take all the time you need.” Josh could hear Daniel’s breathing, could almost picture him leaning against the doorway and biting his cuticle. “Is there a way I can help?” 

Josh bit his lip at how earnest Daniel sounded. 

You can stop being so fucking hot. He thought, then groaned at himself before sitting up. “No man, it's all good. I think I’m just a bit overwhelmed.” 

Daniel came to sit beside him and Josh really shouldn’t have been so surprised to see that he was wrapped in one of the checkered print towels as he was. He looked up and mentally cursed at the soft concern in Daniel’s eyes. The furrow in his brow as he tried to think of a way to help. 

Fuck he loved him.

Daniel’s eyes widened and Josh knew he fucked up. 

“Fuck. I– fuck.” Josh stood quickly.

“I love you too mate.” Daniel said easily. And a bit of Josh died, because of course it was that easy for Daniel. He’d been proclaiming his love of their ‘bromance’ to the public at large for years now. But he didn’t love Josh the way Josh loved him. The way that made his stomach flutter or his chest feel warm.

“No–Yeah. Yeah I love you too man.” Josh agreed easily. Biting his lip to hide his disappointment. Daniel beamed at him and Josh ignored the sourness in his belly.

“Great, I mean this is great.” Daniel rambled happily. “Yeah yeah yeah yeah I love you.” his smile was wide, his eyes were bright and Josh was just so in love with him. 

“Yeah man, I love you.” Josh agreed easily, because he did. Even if it wasn’t how Daniel meant it, he had no issues using Daniel’s easy way of throwing affection to lay his own affection at his feet.

Daniel continued grin before freezing completely. He looked up at Josh with wide eyes before they dimmed into sadness. Josh wondered what caused the change. Daniel stood and Josh noticed he was picking at his cuticles.

“You… of course you don’t–” Daniel muttered as his shoulders drooped, Josh’s eyes widened because what was happening? What made Daniel go from the happiest he’d ever seen him to an utterly kicked puppy.

“Daniel?” 

Daniel looked up at him and smiled as if everything was ok, normal, copasetic. Josh knew it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Hey uh, lemme go see if those guys like need help pulling everything down or something.” Daniel pointed towards the doorway and Josh blocked him. 

“What’s going on?” 

Daniel sighed and sagged back onto the bed. He looked miserable. “Don’t worry about it, I promise. I’m just being weird.” Daniel waved him off and Josh wasn’t having any of it. He stood in front of Daniel, biting his lip when wide honey eyes looked up at him. He hadn’t thought this through maybe. 

“Josh?” Daniel said softly and it was like an out of body experience, when his arms came up to push Daniel onto his back and then he was hovering atop him. Josh felt like he was panting. 

“Tell me.” He insisted when Daniel stayed mute. He didn’t have any issues with pestering the answers out of him.

Daniel inhaled sharply and he snapped his mouth closed. Josh shifted and a strangled moan tore from Daniel's lips. They both froze.

Josh looked at the man beneath him, laid out like a beautiful offering. 

“I’m sorry.” Daniel whispered.

“For what?” Josh whispered back. Because what was there to be sorry for? 

“I love you.” Daniel whispered again, fainter this time. And it was like something clicked in Josh’d brain. His eyes widened as Daniel continued. “I know you don’t like feel the same and its cool. I just thought– I guess I thought I’d like try.”

Josh felt his pulse surge in his ears and he followed the urge he’d been feeling all day. Leaning down, he pressed their lips together. Sighing when Daniel’s pressed against his. He kissed Daniel like there was no tomorrow. As if they were going to leave the house and never speak about it again. As if Daniel was going to fly to Spain tomorrow and forget he existed once Max smiled at him. Josh kissed him with every bit of his being, feeling triumphant at every moan and shiver beneath him.

“I love you too.” Josh said once they parted, repeated the words he’d been saying. He saw the moment Daniel understood. 

“Yeah?” His heartshaped grin was blinding.

“Yeah.” Daniel’s hands cupped Josh’s face and pulled him in for another kiss.

Neither of them heard the knock on the door. “Are you guys rea– oh! Nevermind!” Minnie’s voice called out from the doorway. They heard her close the door then, “Alright guys, they’re making out. Pack it up!” 

There was a small chorus of “Finally!” that had them both snorting.

[elektramustdie]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫

warnings - oral ( fem receiving) , handjob, unprotected sex ( don’t be silly wrap that willy ) sex on camera.

Pete finally got home after tour, it’s been. six months and you decided to surprise him, “Baby?” he asks from the front door “ In here!” you say and he runs to the living room. He wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you on your nose “what’s that?” he asks looking at the couch behind you. “a present” you giggle and he raises his eyebrow before walking over to the wrapped present, “what is it?” he smiled and you shrug “gotta find out.” you smile before watching him pick it up and shake it around, “ be careful!!” you say and he chuckles before tearing the wrapper off.  his eyes light up and he picks up the cam corder, “there’s something else for you” you bite your lip and walk over to the bedroom. “is it lingerie ?” he laughs and follows you, You stayed quiet as Pete marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder. 

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged.  “Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. he places it down on the counter, You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “peteee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees.  You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into the bedroom Hidden away in the nightstand was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Pete would like the box. Pete was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him. “It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.” He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.” You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box. It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“ 

He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?” 

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him. 

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box. 

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped. 

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing.  Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring. 

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with.  “That’s—“ He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist. 

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Pete. I wanna marry you.”

———

Pete forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Patrick’s hotel and let him know, and then he spilled the news to the boys, and suddenly it felt like everyone knew. 

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Pete were left alone in a quiet house. 

“So… the future Mrs. Pete Wentz…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Pete holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine. 

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Pete groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers. 

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement 

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up. 

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Pete, what are you— oh!” 

Without hesitation, Pete buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you. 

“Fuck, Pete—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.” 

His hazel eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans. 

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste. 

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely. 

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin. 

Pete simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Pete moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction. 

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses. 

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Pete was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Pete took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.” 

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Pete groaned at the sight. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip. 

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge. 

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Pete?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him. 

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Wentz Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance.

“Pete.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Pete.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves. 

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts. 

“Pete,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.  

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “Pe-Pete, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips. 

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears. 

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger. 

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“ 

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work. 

It does.

[hauntedhokage]

Bonded

Itachi Uchiha/F!Reader

summary: every problem has a solution. your anger at his lack of consideration for your emotional needs is solved with sex. that’s totally how it works. 

patching up masterlist

word count: 3.4k

note: we’re sliding into shippuden territory now :) and more fluff-angst roller-coaster now :) 

warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex,

“Your husband has been kinda annoying lately,” Kisame comments as he walks through the village with you, and you look up at the much taller man with interest as you process the title that had been bestowed upon your lover. Husband? Last you checked you hadn’t taken Uchiha as a surname nor had Itachi asked if you would, so where did Kisame get that you were married?

“Since when are we married?”

“You basically are at this point. Calling him your boyfriend feels too juvenile, and it’s been like a year? Two years? Might as well be married.” The reasoning is interesting, but you aren’t going to argue with a swordsman who has made up his mind. Kisame could be more stubborn than Itachi depending on the topic, and you could tell this would be one of those topics even if it felt odd that he cared so much. “How long has it been anyway?”

“Almost four years since I left, and a little over two since Itachi and I discussed our feelings.”

“And he basically moved in with you.”

“Is there a point you’re trying to make with this, Kisame?”

“He doesn’t seem different to you these days? You’d notice easily, I’m sure.” 

“No, he seems like he always does. What are you noticing?”

“He feels colder to me. Not that he’s a ray of sunshine normally, but he’s been off. Distant.”

That was concerning. He had been a bit standoffish this morning, but you assumed that he was just tired and went about your morning. Everything else had seemed to be normal, maybe he was trying to keep you from worrying. He did tend to protect your feelings more than was probably wise, given the overall situation that was your life together. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You know how he is, though.”

“Yeah, but I know he talks to you more.”

That was fair. Your relationship with him was different from the relationship he had with Kisame (who you would argue was Itachi’s first wife). More emotionally open, which was to be expected considering the nature of your relationship, so Itachi was more likely to talk to you than to anyone else if something was bothering him. But there was a need to protect you that Itachi had; not from hard inevitable truths but from the things that your lover felt weren’t for you to concern yourself with.

“I’ll see what I can figure out. No promises on intel, though.”

“I just don't want to deal with him moping around during our next mission. It’ll be a longer one.” 

“You guys got new orders?”

“He didn’t tell you? We leave tomorrow, a couple months out there looking for one of the tailed beasts.”

You were going to kill him, how could he not tell you he’d be leaving for so long? It’s with that new information that you leave Kisame, letting him know that he might need a new partner sooner than anticipated as you turn down the side street that would get you home faster. You didn’t care that you’d left your umbrella in Kisame’s hand, didn’t care about the cold rain, you needed to yell at Itachi for not telling you something so important. 

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” is the first thing out of your mouth when you make it home, not bothering to look at your lover as he watches you from the kitchen. “I have to find out from Kisame that you’re leaving tomorrow and that you’ll be gone for months? What the hell were you thi-” 

You’re stopped mid-sentence when you turn, receiving two fingers gently jabbing your forehead and stopping you in your tracks. You hated how light on his feet Itachi could be, and how he always snuck up on you so easily since his chakra signature could easily overwhelm your senses when you were in close proximity that you couldn’t register how close he actually was. You also hated that two fingers to your forehead would always stop you in your tracks - that wasn’t fair. 

“I was going to tell you this morning,” he states, removing his fingers from your forehead and gently resting them against your bottom lip. “Then we got distracted, then you had plans with Kisame and I wanted to make sure you still went. It’ll be a longer mission than usual; but I’ll be coming home to you, so I didn’t think it was too big of a deal when I told you - just as long as I did. Have I not been gone longer?”

You don’t respond, not a huge fan of how effectively he silenced you with just two fingers and hating that he had a point. But you weren’t lovers on borrowed time when he’d been gone for eight months, you weren’t used to waking up beside him the last time he’d been gone for so long. He was a massive part of your life now, did he not think you’d feel this more deeply after everything you’d done together? 

“I only regret that you found out from Kisame and not myself.”

“You’re so frustrating sometimes,” you comment, gently nipping at his fingertips before you move away from him to get a towel for your wet hair. You could be mad all you wanted, but he wasn’t going to crack so you needed to move away from him so you could calm yourself down on your own. “I love you dearly, but you can be so narrow-sighted.”

“How so?”

“Sure, we’ve gone longer with being apart but the last time we weren’t like this and practically married like Kisame says. I didn’t know your brother was training to kill you and that you wanted it to happen, everything about the circumstances were different.” He’s watching you carefully as you squeeze your hair with a towel, and for the first time you aren’t feeling small by his stare. You were upset and you needed him to understand why you were so upset about this. Letting him make you feel small was not going to help you establish that point. “We don’t know if this’ll be the last time you leave me, we don’t know if you’ll come back, and I think I deserve more than just a couple hours of notice that you’ll be leaving for an extended period of time!”

If he didn’t get it after that, then you weren’t sure what you were going to do. For a man who was regarded as a genius, Itachi could be rather dense when it came to your feelings and perspective. He cared about your feelings, and you knew that, but he never fully understood them because you were living a different life than he was. You could play house all day, but that didn’t change the inevitable truth that you were playing different games. 

“I see.” Did he really? 

“I’m sorry.” Was he really?

Clearly you don’t look convinced; because he’s closing the distance between you slowly, almost as if he was trying to calm a wild animal, and that has you crossing your arms over your chest as you let out a huff. You were mad, not feral, and being regarded as some unpredictable animal was not helping to ease your irritated mood.

“You’re right, our circumstances are different now than they were before. You’re also correct in saying that I cannot guarantee that I’ll come home to you.” Firm hands cup your cheeks, ensuring that you’d continue to look at him as he spoke to you. “But I can promise that I’ll do my best, is that not enough?”

“I don’t think you fully understand, Itachi.”

“Understand that you’re not used to the realities of being a shinobi? That you have different emotional needs due to being raised differently than I was? Until now, I’d say you were correct. I don’t have a perfect grasp, and I never will, but I do understand that I’ve hurt you by not telling you sooner.”

“Shouldn’t take the sharingan to see that,” you mutter, feeling somewhat better but not totally appeased. You were still mad; no amount of soft tones, admission of guilt, or gentle touches would change that. Did he actually understand what your emotional needs were? 

“Please trust that my intent was never to cause you pain. I know now that I have and I am deeply sorry. I will learn from this mistake and communicate more timely with you when it involves my assignments.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” And he’s leaning in to kiss your pout away, testing the waters for how affectionate you’d let him be while your face was still warm and limbs trembled beneath his touch with your anger. Something stops him as his nose brushed against yours, half lidded eyes searching your face for something that you’re not sure of - but you’re certain he hadn’t found it based on the way he pulls back.

“Did Kisame really say we’re married?”

“Called you my husband and said you were being annoyingly distant.” He was going to have to deal with that on his own, you had mostly handled your issue and didn’t want to fully involve yourself in his business with Kisame. You can tell that he’s thinking hard about that one; there were risks to saying out loud that Itachi Uchiha had a little wife (even if you weren’t technically married), most of them involving the younger Uchiha sibling but the other risk being that you could be used to get to the Akatsuki. You were always just as much a liability to the group as you were an asset, perhaps more of a liability considering your somewhat limited skillset.

“Am I safe?” Your question has him nodding immediately, which you trusted without doubt. If you weren’t safe he’d make sure that you were. 

“You’re very protected, Kisame is smarter than to say things like that to just anyone.” It’s your turn to nod, uncrossing your arms and placing them on his shoulders. It’s then that you realize he’d been shirtless this entire time, and you’re questioning just how attentive you truly were if you missed that. “Allow me to properly apologize for my lack of consideration.”

You have a good idea as to how he was going to do that so you nod, knowing that no amount of anger was going to have you denying yourself that pleasure - especially not before he was about to leave for months. 

“May I kiss you?”

You could make him work for it, Itachi was rather impatient when it came to receiving your affection and that could be very entertaining for you. You were still a bit upset, he’d understand needing to earn that affection, but he was so close and you couldn’t resist your own temptation standing in front of you. 

His body fits against yours perfectly, your kiss promoting a satisfied hum from Itachi as his hands move from your cheeks to your thighs. One tap had you jumping, his hands supporting you as your legs locked around his waist with your kiss not breaking until you’re gasping against his mouth as your back hits the wall a bit harder than expected. Your hand is tugging at the red tie keeping his hair in place, freeing the long dark hair from its confinement only to have a tight grip on it as his lips travel along your jaw and down the column of your neck to the collar of your shirt. 

“I’ll replace them,” is all he says before you feel his hand leave your thigh. Cool air hits your stomach before you’d even registered the sound of the kunai ripping cleanly through the fabric of your shirt and bra, and his hand is holding your breast as he’s hoisting you higher up the wall so he can bring the other into his mouth. 

“We should go to the bed, y-yeah?” Your suggestion is met with a soft hum, one that you swear echoes through your chest.

“Could do it on the floor,” he mumbles against your skin, nipping at the tender skin of your breast before soothing over the spot with his tongue. “Couch, counter, or even this wall.”

But he’s moving you from the wall, carrying you through the door to your bedroom and carefully depositing you onto your mattress. His pants are off and he’s pulling at yours before you can think to do so, leaving you to watch as kisses his way up your leg until he is comfortably laid between your thighs and spreading your folds so he could look at you. 

“What happened to the wall?”

“Can’t do this,” is all that he says before he’s gently pushing two fingers into your already wet cunny. “Everything about you is so beautiful, I hate not getting to look at you properly when I get to pleasure you like this.”

Your face is warm at the admission, your hand pushing back into his hair as his tongue drags over your clit. Itachi always took his time with you, so you’re not surprised by the languid pace of his fingers and tongue against your most sensitive spots even if you did wish that he’d move just a bit faster. He knew just how to touch you to carefully stoke the fire in your core, but not to get you too worked up too quickly that you got too sensitive too quickly. He never wanted to overstimulate you too soon, always wanted you present and comfortable in these intimate moments. 

“Ita-Itachi please,” you whine as you approach that edge, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he only hums against your clit before looking up at you. 

“Please what, darling?” he asks, hooking his fingers in a way that has your hips arching into him. “Would you like for me to stop?”

You shake your head frantically, and he smiles as he rubs your thigh with his free hand. 

“Please make me come.” Your request has him nodding, then a forearm is pressed against your hip to keep you in place as his tongue glides against your went cunt through to lap at your dripping entrance while his thumb circles your clit in fast strokes that have you quickly reaching and toppling over that edge of pleasure that has your toes curling into the sheets beneath you. 

He’s a mess as he makes his way up to lay beside you, neatly combed hair now messy from your desperate grip on the dark tresses and his lips and chin glistening with your essence. You’re eager to taste yourself on him, pulling him into a sloppy kiss and groaning at just how wonderful he tasted. His hands are pulling you so you straddle him, one hand stays on your hip while the other takes your chin in a firm grip to keep you where he wants you. 

“Sit yourself on my cock, dearest,” he requests, voice nothing more than a whisper against your lips but the sound echoes through your ears and sends shockwaves along your spine. Your ruined shirt and bra are shed as you sit up straighter, your hand taking his length in a gentle hold so you could guide yourself onto him. He’s content to lay back against the pillows, watching as his cock gradually disappears as you sink down onto him. The hand on your hip moves in search of your clit, happy to tease the nerve bundle and watching your face contort in pleasure at his motions. 

“How’s that feel?”

“So good, ‘Tachi,” you mumble, your walls clenching around him when he presses down on your clit. “Do you feel good?”

“Heavenly,” he assures, biting his lip as you start to ride him. You two were no longer the clumsy virgins who weren’t exactly sure how it all fit together, this was a practiced dance that he was glad to have practiced with you and only you (with some initially unwanted advice from Kisame that paid off). You were confident as you moved on top of him, knowing just what he needed and more than happy to give it at a pace of your choosing. 

After a few minutes you’re leaning down, your lips connecting to his in a kiss that was as languid as your pace but so full of the love that you had for him that it was almost overwhelming - but they all felt like that.

But then he can’t take it; no longer has the patience to drag out your pleasure - not when you had all night. So he’s carefully pushing you onto your back, making sure to keep himself buried inside you as he repositions you both so he’s on top of you with one of your legs on his shoulder while the other is held against his hip as he begins to piston into you.

“Where’s your patience?”

“I’m not a very patient man when it comes to you.” The confession is punctuated by a particularly harsh thrust that had you seeing stars, and he’s smiling to himself at how precious you look beneath him. Eyes shut tight as you try to prolong your end, hands gripping his wrists as your breasts bounce with each of his movements. “You’re so pretty, darling.”

Your wonderfully slick walls begin to constrict around him, making your already tight cunt feel impossibly tighter and urging him closer to that end. Needing you to come first, his hand returns to your clit, two fingers rubbing against the sensitive nerve bundle until you were crying his name into the darkness of your bedroom as he praises you through it. A few more thrusts and he’s letting himself go inside you, his grip on your thigh tight enough that he’s sure there will be bruises for him to kiss before he leaves as his hips still against yours. Your eyes are closed as your body relaxes into the mattress, and he’s carefully lowering your legs to a more relaxed position before he eases himself out. 

Instead of moving to lay beside you, he’s settling between your legs with his head on your stomach, and you can only bring your hand to rest atop his head as the room gradually settles. His breathing returns to normal, the rise and fall of his body between your legs helping you to time your own breathing to calm yourself. 

“If things were different, would you have married me?” The question is asked so quietly you almost don’t hear it. But you did, and you’re looking down at the man who is resting his head on your stomach. He’s not looking at you, instead looking out at the wall to your left, but you’re not bothered. Itachi didn’t handle his own vulnerability well.

“I’d marry you tomorrow if you asked me to,” you admit, your fingers pushing through his hair and gently scratching at his scalp like you knew he liked. “And before you say it, I really don’t care about the questions people would ask. I don’t need a different reality, this one is more than enough for me to want to be your wife.”

“You love me that much.”

“I do.”

“Two children, maybe three. A son and a daughter for sure.”

“Maybe a cat?” His fingers are carefully drawing patterns on your side, being careful not to tickle you. You’re grateful that he’s still looking at the wall, because the tears in your eyes would not be easily hidden. To discuss a future that would never be was hard, especially with a man who you loved so much. “I always wanted a cat but my parents never let me have one.”

“No?” 

“Said cats were dirty.”

“Of course they did. Cats would’ve been able to catch the mice running around that place.” He was right, but they’d never see it that way. “You can have as many cats as you’d like.”

“I’ve already got you, so just one would do.” Your teasing has him chuckling before a kiss is tenderly placed to your stomach, and he’s looking at you now as you look down at him. “I love you, Itachi Uchiha.” 

“I love you, too.” Another kiss, but then he’s moving so that he laid beside you. Gentle fingers push your hair back, a warm palm holds your cheek as you look at him with a fondness that was only his. And the name that leaves his lips is yours, but with Uchiha in place of your surname and that has a fresh warmth spreading throughout your chest as he seals his intention with a kiss. This was all he could give you, nothing official in the eyes of anyone besides yourselves, but it was more than enough. 

And as his hand brings your thigh up to his hip, his hardening erection pressing against your slit, you know you’re about to consummate the unofficial bond.

[nalyra-dreaming]

For the record, I actually agree with you that DM happened in the past. But there is no confirmation of that in episodes 6-8, so if we're right, we're gonna have to wait a little longer. 🙂

It's just my guess that this is what the 2 screeners mean when they say that DM is dead in a ditch after season 2 ends. First of all, they are notorious haters. And second, they know that most DM fans have been anticipating the moment Daniel fully remembers and so now they're laughing at us for getting our hopes up. Ngl I was a bit bummed because I genuinely thought the season was leading up to this great finale reveal, but that lasted about 2 seconds before I rushed to rewatch the episodes because it's sooo good lol

I‘m fine with waiting as long as we get it :)))

I waited 30 years for this darn show after all 😅

And thank you again, this is.. good to realign my own emotions to/with (and maybe for those reading, too) - because while it may be a bit disappointing to not get that … we already go so much and everyone seems to be on the same page wrt the last episodes, namely that they’re simply amazing.

I‘m sure there will be a lot of aubtext once more we can dig our claws into in the upcoming months, but for now I am simply ecstatic to look forward to two hours of the best television.

This show is doing the long game.

But they do arrive at the important points.

And, well,… DM is one of:).

We‘ll get there.

[jaketposts]

shears | jtk

a/n: i was very inspired by cob's haircut and had to put it down in words. this is the result. also this is my first fic! warnings: none! just a lot of fluff. mention of scissors maybe? word count: 3.7k

You weren’t exactly thrilled that your first job out of cosmetology school was at Great Clips. You hoped to score a job at a fancier salon as you had shelled out a pretty penny for a more prestigious beauty school, but it was, at the moment, your job.

You didn't even like men’s styles. You thought the endless slew of clipper cuts and fades were repetitive, and you longed to get your hands on a head full of long, luscious hair. Sadly, most women already had a stylist that they trusted and had a bond with, so you were stuck with every Joe Schmoe in Nashville who didn’t care to run a dab of pomade through his comb-over every once in a while. 

Sometimes your customers were even rude. Many pompous businessmen who never looked up from their phones had sat in your chair. You had cut the hair of just as many older men who made crude comments about your figure or told you to smile while you tried to fix up their rapidly thinning crew cuts. Neither of these groups tipped very well. 

Truthfully, you loathed Great Clips, but the job kept you afloat while you built a resumé. 

You found that you had much to complain about while idle at the front counter, waiting for a walk-in when the doorbell pulled you from your daydream of a real salon. 

The bright chime of the bell echoes through the empty lobby, alerting you to someone's presence. Your eyes rip away from the spot on the wall you had been absentmindedly staring at while your mind wandered, falling to the man stepping through the doorway.  

He was gorgeous, you thought. He wore a wide-brimmed black hat and a stylish pair of sunglasses. Between the two accessories, you weren't sure what he actually looked like, but you just knew he was pretty. He wore a pair of off-white linen pants paired with a black linen button-down that looked to have been cropped to his hips. The shirt was mildly wrinkled but barely buttoned, which gave you an ample view of his smooth, tan chest adorned with a couple of silver pendants. 

You were enamored with his jewelry and open shirt before you realized the most important part of his appearance.

His hair.

He had wavy chestnut hair that spilled over his shoulders and fell past the collar of his shirt. You hadn't had hair that long walk through the doors in months, maybe ever. 

You were pulled out of your silent admiration by the sight of him walking towards the counter, towards you. You quickly shut your mouth, as your jaw was beginning to hang open at his beauty, and flash him the brightest smile you could muster. 

"Hi, welcome to Great Clips! Do you have an appointment?" you chirp, silently thanking whatever power was above that your voice didn't crack. You bit your lip in anticipation of his answer. You were next up to take a walk-in, but there were stylists in the back who had appointments with regular customers. You hoped he was not one of them. 

Even his voice was gorgeous, "No, just looking for a walk-in if you have time," he replies. He had a perfectly deep, but kind rasp to his voice. You felt your cheeks redden at the sound. 

"Sure! Follow me, please." This time, you aren't so lucky, as your voice breaks and your face flushes deeply. You quickly turn and motion for him to follow you to the chairs, attempting to hide your undoubtedly scarlet face. You could have sworn he chuckled under his breath at your shyness. 

Once you arrive at your station, you gesture for him as you take your spot behind the chair. You start to introduce yourself, "My name is y/n and I'll be cutting your hair today." You pause, expecting him to remove his hat and sunglasses. 

Instead, he rasps, "Hi y/n, I'm Jake." He smiles a gentle, toothy grin at you that you can't help but return. He still does not move to take off his hat or glasses yet, so you pause again, moving to lightly graze your fingers along the brim of his hat. 

"Can I take these off?" you ask. 

Jake's eyebrows raise in realization, "Oh! Of course." He reaches up to lift his hat off his head and place it in his lap, which you had been avoiding looking at. Then, he removes his sunglasses, folding them and sliding them into the top of where his shirt was buttoned, no higher than the bottom of his sternum. He looks back up expectantly, finally making real eye contact with you for the first time since he arrived. Tragically, your face flushes again, but he seems to blush as well.

"There we go," you whisper. Then, in a louder voice, you say, "It's nice to meet you, Jake. What are we doing with your hair today?" You move to run your fingers through your hair to feel the texture and judge the care that it might need. 

"Well," he starts, "My little brother says the ends of my hair look ratty and that I need a haircut. So, here I am." He grins. As you comb your fingers through his hair, you understand what his brother meant. His hair is soft until you get two inches from the ends, where it feels rougher and dryer than the rest. He continues, "Take off whatever needs to come off."

Your mind automatically ponders the dirty implications of his directive, but you furrow your brow to push that thought away, "When did you last have your hair cut?"

Jake squints in thought, then shrugs, "Eight months? Maybe a year? I'm really not sure. I've been so busy with work lately, I just haven't had time to think about a haircut."

You hum and nod at his answer, "What do you do that has you so busy?"

His face splits into a wide smile and his eyes shimmer at your question, "My brothers and I are in a band. We've been on tour and finishing up our next album," he replies, still wildly grinning. You smile back and your heart flutters at the passion for music he exudes.  

"Very cool, anything I might have heard?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but with a tiny smirk that you almost miss, "Maybe," he starts, but he turns his focus back to his hair, "what's the damage?"

You pull the pieces of his hair that lay in front of his shoulders between your index and middle fingers and let the hair feed through until you reach where you think his locks need a chop. About two inches of hair needed to be cut off to keep it healthy. You reply, "About this much."

His eyes widen in shock at how much you indicate. He swallows, then asks, "Are you sure?" Jake's voice is almost timid, and your heart aches.

You nod solemnly, "Sadly, yeah. You have a good bit of split ends here and the only way to get rid of them is to cut them off." He nods back in understanding. 

"I get it. It just seems really short. My hair hasn't been that short in a while." 

You can tell Jake is a little nervous about the necessary length, so you lean over so that your head hovers right next to his, just above his shoulder. You look deeply into his eyes in the mirror and smile, "Yeah, but I promise you'll still look amazing," you reassure him. 

This time it's his turn to flush a deep crimson, which he couples with a shy smile, "Whatever you say."

"Perfect," you reply as you stand up. You pat his shoulder and he follows you to the shampoo bowl. You grab a towel and lay it over the divot where his head is to rest. He sits down and leans back, his hair falling into the bowl. Usually, your customers focus on a spot on the ceiling, but he looks directly into your eyes. His gaze is piercing but soft, his smooth chocolate eyes dulling the sharpness of his glare. The pesky flush of your cheeks rises again, so you quickly avert your gaze in search of the shampoo and conditioner. You could feel his eyes tracking your movements.

You turned the water on, waiting longer than usual to make sure that the water was warm enough. You wanted it to be perfect for him. You ran the shower head over his hair, soaking it in the warm water and turning the faucet off when it was saturated. After pumping shampoo into your hand and lathering it between your fingers, you started to work the solution through his hair. His eyes, once trained on you, flutter shut with a sigh at the feeling of your hands massaging his scalp. His cheeks were rosy and you swear you saw a content smile play across his lips. 

With his head stretched back, the smooth column of his neck was on display, leading your eyes down to his necklaces, which glinted in the overhead light. Your eyes moved to the smooth expanse of his chest, and you almost wished you could run your hands down the warm, tanned skin. At that moment, you realize you had been massaging the shampoo into his hair for too long, distracted by the man in your chair. You rush to grab the showerhead and turn it back on. You gently rinse the suds from his hair, holding your hand between the water and his forehead, protecting his face. Once his hair is clean, you grab a couple of pumps of conditioner and work it through his ends. As you run his wet hair through your fingers, you can tell that his hair really is gorgeous. It just needs some care. 

After rinsing the conditioner from his hair, you gently squeeze out the excess moisture. His eyes open at this, sensing that you're done washing his hair. His eyes find yours again and he gazes up at you. You try to cut the tension with a joke, "Good morning, sleeping beauty," you say softly while a wry smile creeps across your face. 

Jake flushes at your bold joke, "Oh hush," he replies. His words don't hold any malice. He continues, still making eye contact with you, "It felt nice." His face pulls into a shy smirk. 

You have him sit up, and when he does, you grab the corners of the towel by his face and fold his hair up into the towel on top of his head. You lead him back to your salon chair and he sits down. After you grab a cape from the hooks on the wall, you drape it over him. The movement of the cape wafts the sweet smell of the conditioner towards you, but you can smell something else, a scent that is uniquely Jake. 

After you snap the cape around his neck, you remove the towel from his head. You match his gaze in the mirror. He flashes a grin at you, again, and says, "Cut away, Doc." You nod in return. 

You turn to grab a comb and a pair of shears and get to work. As you work through his hair, you strike up a conversation. "What kind of music do you and your brothers play?"

"Rock 'n roll mostly. Maybe a little bit of blues. Whatever we want, really," he replies. You can't see his face from your position behind him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

"Ooh, rock 'n roll? Are you a rockstar, Jake?" you tease. You move to cut the hair on the side of his head. 

"Maybe a little bit," he chuckles. He tries to turn his head towards you to punctuate his reply. 

"Hey, keep your head straight." You stop his head with the back of your hand. He raises his eyebrows and flushes with embarrassment as he snaps back to face the mirror. 

"Sorry," he replies. He averts his gaze in the mirror. 

You smile reassuringly, "No worries," you say. He settles again, "What instrument do you play?"

This question truly makes him light up, "I play the guitar." He beams at you in the mirror and continues, "I started when I was pretty little, and it's taken me a lot of cool places." His grin shows off his shiny, white teeth. 

"Any Grammys yet?" you jest. You assumed he was a small artist waiting for his big break. 

He looks down at his lap and chuckles, "Just the one."

Your head snaps up to look at him in the mirror, "Really?"

He lets a small smile play across his face, "Yeah it was kind of a miracle, actually." You stand up as your mouth hangs open. Then, you begin to laugh, full and from your belly. He flushes again, "What's so funny?"

It takes a second for you to stop laughing and collect yourself to answer him, "You've won a Grammy and you're getting your hair cut at a Great Clips!" The thought, once said out loud, sends you back into a laughing fit. His own bright and genuine laughter joins yours. 

When the laughter dies down, he turns his head towards you and you let it slide this time. He looks up at you and says, with a smirk, "Yeah, but you're cutting my hair here, aren't you?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

You blush furiously, but roll your eyes and turn his head back to the front with a hand on top of his head, "Oh, stop it," you mumble. His self-satisfied smirk remains as you finish cutting his hair.

Once pleased with your work, you set down the comb and shears. You reach for a bottle of light mousse and pump a small amount into your hand. Jake looks at the product in your hand, then up into your eyes, and asks, "What's that?"

You rub the mousse between your hands and start to rake it through his hair. "It's a mousse. It'll make your hair voluminous and give your waves some definition," you reply.

"Oh," he whispers and nods as you finish with the product. You grab the hairdryer and run it over his head for a few minutes, spinning the chair as you evenly dry his hair. 

Once you've finished, you run your fingers through his locks one last time, breaking the cast and giving his hair the tousled look he came in with. You suspect he likes that look. 

You finally spin Jake back around to see the final look in the mirror. The corners of his mouth and his eyebrows rise in unison. He turns his head from side to side, examining his new style. He brings his hands up to his scalp to tousle his hair from the roots. The wide, sparkling grin you were newly familiar with grows even stronger across his sharp features. 

"It looks amazing. You were right about the length," he says. The gratitude is evident in his voice, and you match his grin. 

You watch him admire his haircut in the mirror for just a little longer before he meets your gaze and sighs with contention. After standing there for just one more moment, you pat the back of the chair and say, "Alright, let's go get you checked out, Jake." He stands and follows you as you lead him back to the lobby. You notice that he puts his sunglasses back on his head, but continues to hold his hat in his hands. 

You resume your spot behind the counter and give him the spiel on the cost and other services provided at Great Clips. When it's time to pay, he slides a shiny card toward you. Upon picking it up, you find the card is heavy for such a small item. Your eyes widen at the weight of it in your hand and he chuckles. You look up at the sound, and he shrugs, "Rockstar money, I guess."

You laugh at his jokes one last time before you swipe the card and hand him the receipt with a pen to sign. He scribbles something on the receipt and hands it back to you. Your fingers brush as you take the paper from his hands and a shiver runs down your spine. You smile as he pats the counter, rings clacking against the hard surface. He puts his hands in his pockets and goes to leave, but before he opens the door, he turns around to say, "Thank you, y/n, it really does look great." A kind grin accompanies his expression of gratitude. 

You match his grin with a sugary sweet smile, "No problem, rockstar. Good luck with the new album." He waves and continues walking backward toward the door. It comes up quicker than he was expecting, and he turns around with surprise and embarrassment when he runs into the door. He waves goodbye before he's out the door and never to be seen again. You watch his profile walk down the street through the window, illuminated by the warm afternoon sun. 

You looked down at the receipt, hoping to find a sweet message or even a phone number, but you were met with a tip that far outweighed your service. Your heart flipped at the bittersweet gesture until another customer strolled through the door. 

❁❁❁

After closing out your last customer for the day and sending him out into the night, you began to sweep up. All the other stylists had gone home, so it was just you closing up the shop. Technically, you didn't close for another five minutes, but nobody was coming in, so you figured you would get a head start on cleaning up. 

You had just begun sweeping up the loose clippings left over from the day when the doorbell chimed again. Your heart sank at the sound. You hoped to get home early, but it seems your dreams were shattered by the high-pitched chime. You turned to see who had ruined your plans, but you froze mid-spin. The sight of Jake leaning on the counter shocked you. His elbows rested on the counter with his arms crossed while his fingers absentmindedly tapped at his bicep and his eyes darted around the lobby nervously. His sunglasses were perched on top of his head. 

"Back again, rockstar? Wanna go shorter?" you tease as you saunter back to the counter. You stand across from him, arms spread and hands grabbing the edge of the counter. You pop your hip out to the side and wait for his response with a smirk on your face.

He laughs at your question, "No, this is perfect actually." He moves to run his fingers through his hair.

"Well, what can I do for you? We close in," you check your watch, "two minutes." 

"I have a question for you, actually."

"Sure! Is it about the mousse? I can sell you a bottle, or I can let you take a picture of the label. If you don't like it, I can recommend you something else, too!" You start to ramble a little bit, flustered at the proximity. 

"No," he pauses, "well, actually I'd love to take a picture of the label, but that's not why I'm back."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. You don't want to get your hopes up, but you like the direction this conversation is going. You reply, "What is it?"

He takes in a shaky breath, "Well, uh, I really enjoyed my haircut."

You smile at his accidental display of nerves, "I'm glad you did. Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"No. I, um, well, I really enjoyed your company, and, uh," he pauses to search your eyes, biting his lip, "I wanted to know, well I wanted to ask if, maybe, um." He stutters and trails off.

You try to help him out, "Wanted to know what?"

He stands up and sucks in a deep breath, "Are you free on Friday night?"

His question, though it was the one you had hoped to hear, hits you like a freight train. Your eyes widen and a giddy smile slowly creeps across your face. 

Jake is seemingly impatient, pushing for an answer, "Well?"

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding as you reply, "Yes, I am."

He doesn't celebrate yet, but asks, "Can I take you out to dinner, then?"

Your smile stretches even further across your face, "Yeah, I would love that."

The biggest smile you had seen from him that day erupts onto his face. You stand there grinning at each other for a second until he breaks out of the trance, "Great, it's a date," he exhales, "could I maybe get your number before I go?"

You nod, "Of course." He hands you his phone, already open to a new contact. You type in your number and your name, making sure to add a ":)" at the end. While you type, you can see him bounce on his toes with anticipation, and it makes you smile. You hand the phone back to him and he smiles down at the contact. You watch him for a moment before you lean across the counter and give him a quick kiss on the cheek, against your better judgment, "See you Friday, Jake."

He quickly looks up, having flushed scarlet yet again. He smiles and whispers, "Yeah, see you Friday." He turns to leave, clutching his phone to his chest and still gazing at you. He runs into the door again, distracted by you, but finally makes it outside. You watch as he exits and holds his phone up to his ear, smiling as he speaks to whoever is on the other line. 

❁❁❁

Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you shut the door to your apartment. You drop your keys into the bowl by your door and scramble to fish your phone from your jacket. Only one notification is displayed on your lock screen. 

unknown number: hey gorgeous :)

You immediately save his number and giggle to yourself. You lean back against your door as you type out a response. 

you: hey rockstar :)

❁❁❁

if you'd like to be tagged in any future works let me know!

[gojou-violin]

number one fan

| inspired by this post from @kingkatsuki

| pairing: masaki mizushima (manual) x fem!bodied!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. unprotected sex. breeding kink. fingering. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. fem!oral. service!bf!manual.

| summary: manual's always wondered what it's like having super-fans, he just never thought he'd fall in love with one.

| wc: 3k

| a/n: i'm gonna be sick, he's so fucking cute and romantic it's not fair.

| taglist: @aylitgirl , @thisbicc , @ifeelsofilthy , @sailewhoremoon , @preciousamethyst , @justanotherpasserby-blog , @lyteatus , @its-makonom , @sunflowerswords , @derekthemoonneko , @hisbeautifulnightmare17 , @animexholic , @paranoid-borderline-insane (couldn't tag @thedeadliyrose253 or @honestlymellowcheesecake)

It was his fascination with making sure you and everyone else in the world know exactly who his biggest fan is. That was what prevented him from ever letting you go. That was why he was slowly sliding his fingers back into you, one at a time, sinking in knuckle by knuckle to make sure that none of his cum escaped your hole.

Everyone had always been so in love with the top Pro Heroes like All Might, Hawks, and Jeanist that no one ever stopped to consider the heroes that didn’t want the “Top Hero” spotlight. Heroes like Manual in Hosu City were the ones that caught your eye because they weren’t in it for the money or the fame; they patrolled the city because they genuinely wanted to keep people safe— They wanted to keep you safe, which was the admirable thing to do. But they still deserved recognition for their efforts, didn’t they? Manual deserved recognition. While most people didn’t mind or care, you went out of your way to post about him on the internet, to praise him for being a fantastic hero. If the news wasn’t going to write about him, then what was stopping you from reporting on everything that he was doing in the city, preventing robberies, intervening with public disputes, and in extreme cases, helping people in car accidents, saving people from rooftops, preventing murders. His life wasn’t too exciting, but it was important work.

It only took about two months to grow your considerable following before Manual himself reached out to your blog to thank you for all the kind words, and if you were ever interested in an exclusive interview, he was more than welcome to participate. Of course you said yes! You’d be crazy to ghost or turn down the hero you’d spent day after day obsessing over. It didn’t matter that Manual was only ranked as the 222 best hero— To you and your followers, he was the best of the best; and an interview with him could potentially change your life.

What you hadn’t anticipated at the time that meeting Manual at the coffee shop the Saturday following him reaching out to your blog would result in… personal life changes. You thought that an exclusive interview could mean a change in career. Maybe a local newspaper would want to hire you— Or maybe a new station! You could have never in a million years predicted that Manual would steal you away with his charm and kindness.

Three weeks. That was all it took. Three weeks of meeting up with him when he wasn’t working, all under the illusion that you were there for more interviews or more inside info on his recent adventures of being a hero, and suddenly he was smiling ear-to-ear at you while asking if you’d like to go back to his place. Manual wasn’t the “fuck boy” type. He was genuinely embarrassed when he realized you thought that meeting with him was for work and not for actual dates, like he thought. And you felt terrible because you did like him and yet you had been so caught up in trying to remain professional that you didn’t realize all of the signs were right there in front of you! The way he would invite you to dinner, how he would meet you in casual clothes, and how he’d always find the perfect moment in your line of questioning to ask about you and your life. He was truly enchanting. You were just an idiot when you were around him. Yet, you still said yes to going back to his place, because despite the fact that you thought you were seeing him on a professional level, you truly did like him and fell head over heels for the way he’d smile— The way his eyes would wrinkle up because he had the most adorable laugh… Fuck, you were so far gone it was a wonder how you didn’t realize you were going on dates in the first place!

Manual didn’t want to do anything that night because of the miscommunication. He was truly a gentleman that wanted to know you and take care of you because he didn’t want to be like every other hero that just fucked their fans and then ghosted them. Manual cared about you.

“My name’s Masaki,” he told you that night.

After that, hanging out with him was positively a date, and you were now both on the same page. Only a week later, though, did he have you back in his apartment, this time in his bed, both of you giggling at how clumsy you were being. When he wanted to kiss you, he asked first. When he wanted to undress you, he anxiously made sure that you thought it was alright. When he was undressed and between your knees, hovering over you completely, his hair falling in his face, he asked if you were sure. He would ask you every time he moved if you were okay.

“Masaki—” you gasped as he sent you over the edge for the third time in a row.

How he managed it, you weren’t sure. It must have been magic.

Masaki was a simple guy with simple needs: Taking care of you… And hearing you moan his name… Listen! It just did something for him that he never realized was possible because no one else had even scratched the surface of making him as happy as you made him. So he invited you over a lot. Like, a lot. He liked to cook for you and watch a movie while you would cuddle on the couch because it made him feel like he finally had a normal life with someone who genuinely cared about him and wasn’t scared off by the thought of being with a Pro Hero. And you loved being around him because he made you feel safe and appreciated. No one else went out of their way to spoil you the way Masaki constantly did, and you felt like the least you could do was hold him tight when he got scared during horror movie marathons or clean the dishes the next morning after sleeping over at his place.

For both of you, the sex was just an added bonus.

So that was how you ended up in his bed again after you went to the botanical gardens nearby for a limited time night event and you told him you loved him for the first time. It had been quite romantic since you did it while walking through the sakura tree path as they were beginning to shed their leaves for the season, leaving the walkway coated in the gorgeous petals… and then it just slipped from you. Your arm was linked with his, you were tucked into his side because you were cold, and you thought to yourself how wonderful being with him was, and how happy you were that you just so happened to give the 222nd best Pro Hero a chance.

When you said it, Masaki was caught off guard, but the second it sank in, he laughed, his eyes scrunching up in the way you adored, and he sighed with relief as he told you, “I’ve been dying to tell you I love you for weeks!”

Back at the apartment, the two of you barely made it through the front door with your dignity intact because Masaki had his hands all over you the entire time you were walking through the lobby, waiting in the elevator, and rushing down the hallway to find his apartment number. He could hardly put the code for his apartment in! And the second you were inside, Masaki had you up against the wall, muttering “i love you” against your skin a thousand times over while you struggled to get his pants off. The little shuffle you had to do to get the bedroom was a bit embarrassing, honestly. Holding onto each other while making out even though your pants were at your ankles and he was dying to get you out of your shirt and bra so that he could play with your tits. He loved your tits. It was another obsession of his.

“I love you so fucking much,” he moaned.

You fell back onto the bed with him.

Masaki reached down to feel how wet you were. “Fuck- Fuck, fuck, I love you, fuck.”

It was like he was a broken record that you couldn’t knock straight— Not that you wanted to anyhow. Hearing him praise you while falling so in love with you that he couldn’t think made you beyond joyful.

“I love—” Your breath got caught in your throat as he pushed two fingers into your dripping hole. “I love you—” You tangled your hands in his hair and tugged until he was kissing you again.

“Want you to cum for me,” he muttered into your kiss. “As many times as you can.”

The thing about Masaki was that he was somewhat of a “one time wonder”— In a good way, though! Masaki’s refractory period was too long to ever keep the mood going for multiple rounds, so he made up for it by making sure he got everything out of you that he could in other ways. His fingers, his tongue, toys he bought, they were all magnificent tools that he could use to ensure you were screaming his name, and this time he wanted to make sure he heard you tell him that you loved him every time. During the time you had officially been dating Masaki you had learned well that most of what he did was dedicated to you now, a dynamic you hadn’t completely experienced before but were very much on board for.

His fingers took their time stretching you to make sure you could accommodate his size whenever he was ready; meanwhile his thumb was rubbing circles on your clit to urge you towards an orgasm. You could always tell that he enjoyed feeling you tighten around him whenever he made you feel good. Whether it was his fingers or his dick, that little squeeze you gave to show that you were about to tip over the edge was how he knew he was doing it right and should keep hitting the same spot over and over again until you saw white. It worked. Every damn time. This was no different than before aside from how desperate he seemed to force out of you as many orgasms as you could handle.

“Masaki,” you whined, holding his wrist.

He grinned and curled his fingers since you wouldn’t let him draw back anymore. Your back arched with the movement, a delicious moan echoing throughout the apartment.

“Go on, baby. Tell me you love me when you cum.”

“Shit, Mas…” Your grip on his muscular forearm made sure he continued to play with your clit so that your orgasm could hit you like a train. Which it did. “I love you, Mas— Fuck, I love you so much—”

He had to hold your hips down because you were squirming too much through your orgasm that he decided was the perfect time to tease your g-spot a bit more. You cried at the feeling of slight overstimulation until he showed you some mercy, slowing his movements before coming to a gentle halt, then he carefully pulled his fingers out of you.

Once you caught your breath, he went for it again.

And again.

And again.

Having you breathless and unable to think even for a single moment to be able to say “I love you” again, that made him indescribably happy. However, he needed you. He wanted to finally have you when he could take the opportunity to tell you that he loved you so fucking much that he couldn’t make sense of reality anymore since meeting you. So he hovered over you, hands planted on either side of your shoulder width, knees bent between your thighs, his tip teasing your entrance, and he leaned down to kiss you properly. There was only so much energy you had left to hold him, but he made up for the rest.

“Just let me take care of you, baby,” he cooed.

With a gentle push, his tip slid through your wet folds and popped through your entrance. He groaned at the feeling. So wet and warm. With another moan while biting his bottom lip, he pushed in a bit more, watching you intently to make sure that you were alright— Because if it was too much or if you were too tired, he would have stopped in an instant. Masaki knew you well enough by now that you didn’t even have to say anything, he just knew. But you were fine where you were on Cloud 9 as you enjoyed the stretch his cock gave. Was he the most impressive guy in the world? No. Most men weren’t. But he sure did make up for it with how thick he was, and most of the time that was enough.

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear when he was buried to the hilt.

You let out a deep breath to find reality for a moment before replying, “I love you.”

Masaki sat up entirely so that his weight was resting on his knees. His hands moved from beside your shoulders to your hips, and after pulling your hips onto his lap, he started fucking into you at a brutal pace. The concentration on his face was hard to ignore when you thought it was so cute how he barely stuck his tongue between his teeth and his nose scrunched up so that he could keep a proper posture that would make certain that you felt everything all at once.

For a moment you began to wonder how you got so lucky. How did a simple blog about the Pro Hero in your area bring you to the exact moment where an extremely attractive man was, at face value, using you to get himself off, but in reality was fucking you in a way that made sure you felt best— How did you manage to get into bed with a man whose collarbones were always so defined, and he was on the verge of having tight abs— How— Where— When—

But then Masaki brought you back to reality with so little as two fingers flicking your overstimulated clit back and forth.

You hid your face in a pillow to your left to muffle your moans. You were beginning to sound pathetic and dumbed-out, you knew it, and you were sure he had noticed, and that caused you to be embarrassed of yourself. But Masaki didn’t want you to be embarrassed. He wanted you to know just how perfect you were like that.

“I love it when you moan.” He caressed your chin so that you would look at him again. “And I love it when you squirm because it’s too much.” The fingers on your clit moved faster somehow. “And I love it when you look at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.” His free hand brushed his hair out of his face. “I love you.”

When he could see you clearly again, his hand returned to your chin to make sure you wouldn’t look away, but instead you took the opportunity to take his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it sensually while staring directly into his eyes. A surprised whimper left him. Not as stoic as everyone thought, huh?

But seeing you like that only happened to encourage him further.

Without holding anything back, Masaki thrust every ounce of strength he had into you, and he made sure that his pace on your clit never slowed, even if his arm tensed up, because he was going to make you cum at the same time as him no matter what. He still had one more thing left on his mind. One last thing to really show you how much he loved you.

“You gonna cum around me?” he teased, breathless.

You nodded eagerly, still sucking on his thumb.

He panted as his abs tightened, a telltale sign that he was really holding back for you now but he could also tip over at any second if he wasn’t careful or didn’t make you cum fast enough. So you did your best to join him. You rolled your hips to meet his thrusts but also to add that extra pressure you needed on your swollen clit to finally bring you to the brink.

With a somewhat incoherent mumble around his thumb, you said one last time, “I love you.”

Your walls tightening around him was the breaking point for Masaki. After one final thrust deep inside of you, he stilled and groaned your name and a gentle, “I love you,” as he came inside of you.

So that was how you ended up laying there on the bed as he rested on his stomach, fingers prodding your hole so that he could stuff his cum back inside of you because he didn’t want a single drop to escape, no matter what. How else was he supposed to tell the world that his number one fan was his? How else was he supposed to tell you that he loved you when he was out being a hero and couldn’t be around to shower you in kisses? Every drop had to stay right where it was. He was going to make sure of it.

But he was also still in his head about your first “I love you” that was constantly replaying in his head. And suddenly he wanted to please you again because he was so happy to have you. So his tongue got involved. Masaki licked away the mess he had made of the inside of your thighs, and some of his cum that was dripping that he couldn’t save with his fingers. You shivered from the overstimulation, a sign that you couldn’t take it anymore, so he stopped himself. He licked his lips clean. He sat up. He smiled at you.

“I love you,” he said one last time before collapsing next to you on the bed.

You curled up against his chest. “I love you, too.”

[euphoricesctasy]

too much - grusha x fem! reader

part of your role assigned to you by la primera was to check out each gym, maybe once every four months or so - watch a few battles, take on the leader yourself - so how did you end up here, with the ice-cold gym leader? he’d told the staff working at his gym that he’d be busy for the next hour or two, and not to let any challengers in.  ‘tell them i’ve got important stuff to do. they can come back later today, or even better, tomorrow’, he’d instructed.  he had you pushed against a wall in a spare conference room in the glaseado gym, quickly turning away from you to lock the door, before bringing all his attention back to you, and dipping his head just below your jawline.  “you’re really fucking annoying, you know that?” he said, in between the kisses and bites he scattered along your jawline and neck.  “hm? why’s that?” you moaned out. “because,” his breath was surprisingly hot on your neck, “you come to my gym, first of all - and you come more often than you should. you visit the other gyms like, what? once every three or four months or something like that? you’re here once a week.”  he kissed his way back up your neck, gave you a few light kisses on the lips, and pulled away. “you come to my gym, in that tiny skirt even though it’s fucking subzero here, so i can’t help but notice you while i’m battling. then you actually come INTO my gym, and i always get these.. god damn thoughts.” you wanted to test the water a little. you returned the gaze, directly into those bright blue eyes of his.  “yeah? and what thoughts might those be, grusha?” he inhaled, sharply. “thoughts of me bending you over that reception desk, in front of anyone who might be there. taking you on the battle court, taking you in the elevator... any rational thought i might have goes out the window when you show up.” his hands began to trace the outline of your tits, still covered by your shirt.  “that sounds to me like you’re complaning.” you teased.  “i’m not. it’s just, fuck. you’re too much. you make me crazy.” “show me.” “huh?” he pulled away. “show me how crazy i make you.”  he flashed you a slight smile, once that made you shudder with anticipation.  “oh, i’ll show you alright.”