#but my fucking duck things lately have been taking the cake

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the desire to do comms vs my inability to remember that i got a message FIGHT-

[rosemaeridream]

... comes back around || aespa uar

uchinaga aeri x reader (M)

warnings: basically PWP, fingering, switch!reader, switch!aeri, more toxic than last time (?), semi-public sex, desperateness from both parties, they get caught

A/N: oops this was extremely self indulgent and extremely late. it was gonna be longer but i just need to post something lol - read part one HERE

Synopsis: 'She looks between the two of you, making clear note of Aeri’s bitten red lips and tousled hair and the faint teeth marks on your neck. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask your fiancé to wait outside the dressing room.”’

word count: 2k

"Please," She croons against your lips, pushing her body needfully into your own. "I want you. Now."

You know it's an act. It's always an act when she behaves like this. Aeri's temperament can't possibly conceptualise giving up a sliver of control to someone else. Not when you leave your own apartment covered in purpling marks, some hidden — some unable to hide — just to pick her up an iced coffee. Not when she leaves you at the door, making you feel like a puppy with attachment issues; dependent on when she walks back through the doorway again. 

Especially not when she has you pushed up against a wall in a changing room, white dress with floral lacing cupped against her bodice tickling your arms.

God knows why you accepted to accompany her to shop for wedding dresses.

Perhaps you were more masochistic than you initially believed.

Your fingers wind into the dress, the fabric flowing over her hips and down to the floor. It’s a gorgeous dress; layers of tulle and lace and it leaves so much of her chest is exposed. It makes you understand why consummation exists. 

There’s too much to lift so you can duck under, like you most desire. So you don’t. Instead you flip positions, flattening her back to the wall and slotting a leg between hers. 

Aeri lets out a pleased huff, resting her forearms on your shoulders, wrists loosely crossed. It’s very… high school sweetheart. 

Maybe in another world you’ve just picked her up from after work, taking her on a date. Kissing her in an alleyway on the way home. Not to keep it secret from a damned fiancé. Just for the plain old reason of public indecency.

But this isn’t that world and Aeri’s getting impatient, her eyes dimming — filling with ice. If it was any other moment you know she would have stomped on your foot.

“Brat.” You murmur like you have any control over the situation.

“Idiot.” She throws back at you. Her blinks are slow; she has all the time in the world while you’re in the palm of her hand. Nothing in her voice says that she’s planning on being nice. 

At least you like it that way.

“Are you gonna fuck me in here? You’re soooo, ah- brainless.” Aeri laughs. Right at you. She’s right though. She’s always right. You know she’s just saying the things you want to hear. Every time she pleads for you she’s really just giving you the dregs at the bottom of the bowl, letting you lick the plate clean, all so she can have her cake and eat it too. 

“I need you.” She giggles again, this time letting her breathless moan turn fake, too much like a cam girl. “Please, I need someone–you to take care of me.”

Even though the brainless fog you know she’s mocking you. Her lips twitch and there’s murky insincerity in her eyes. She’s having fun.

Then she moans his name into your ear. It should have been your reason to stop, your reason to push her off you, tell her that she’s fucked in the head and you’re not going to be dragged down into moral sacrilege once more.

A white hot fire sears at your muscles, to the point where you think that you’re about to descend into hysteria until a sea of calm hits.

“That’s not my name.” You growl, pushing her further into the wall.

“Then give me a reason to use it.” Her insufferable attitude only gives you more reason to be rougher, practically slamming your knee in between her legs.

It only makes her release a small whine and a scathing smile. “You can do better than that.”

You’re pushed by her again, right to the boundary that she loves to smear. And it makes you crazy. 

And, the fog in your brain clears.

You start to lift the layers and layers of tulle, it’s heavy but you don’t care. She’s made your arms ache before and you’re not against making them ache for weeks to do this. Aeri makes no move to stop you.

In the back of your head you know that you’re playing back into her hands again, raking your nails up her thighs and kissing the line of her collarbone. Aeri gasps and you take it as a victory, nipping her skin lightly.

Slowly, your fingers find their place, gliding against her dampening panties. She’s just as desperate as you are. Her dripping cunt can’t deny that.

You take your time, exploring the dip of her neck, letting yourself revel in the ragged breaths Aeri’s trying to keep dampened. Her head rolls back, a faint thud against the wood panelling.

Aeri pushes her hips against your hand, wanting something more than half-brushes through cotton. 

“Stop being a tease.” She grits out.

“Stop being a brat then.” You press harder against her clit but make no move to push aside the fabric. 

“Shit, you’re wet.” Peppering a couple kisses along her jaw, you finally kiss her. The intensity of the kiss makes you shiver and allows your brain to fall down another rabbit hole of depravity. 

Slowly, you give in, pushing her underwear to the side. Aeri moans, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to quieten herself. “I should’ve known you get off on this. Anyone could walk by any second to check in on us, and here you are, whining like a whore.” 

If she weren’t so desperate, Aeri would have made a snide comment or slapped you in the face. You’re sure of it. But all she does is buck her hips, wanting your fingers to sink deeper into her cunt instead of the shallow teasing and circling. For some reason, she’s not being completely brash today.

“Hu-hurry up.” Aeri mewls, her hands scrabbling to clutch something against the wall. You take a small step back to get a good look at her.

Aeri’s eyes are glazed over, half-lidded and her bottom lip is caught under her teeth, trying in vain to stay semi-quiet. Your fingers dip a little further into her cunt, drawing out a gasp, her thighs twitching. She rolls her hips as always whenever she wants something. 

You push her hips to the wall, forcing her to stop. For once you felt completely in control and it felt good.

“Beg.”

The word half-brings Aeri from her haze, her eyes still lidded and lips still bitten. “Just… haah~ fuck me already.”

A frown pulls at your lips and you start to slide your hands out of her underwear. Her hand darts down to stop you, fingers tight around your wrist. Her nails begin to dig into your skin. A bear trap away from pleasure.

“Wait- wait.” She swallows, forcing your hand back to her cunt. “Please. Pl-please, fuck me. I need your fingers.”

It tickles your mind. Hearing her want you makes you pulse with need. 

Pleased at her compliance, you shove your fingers in the whole way without any care. Aeri’s wet enough anyway, her slick beginning to drip down your palm.

As you fuck her, you move your lips back to her chest. You’d give anything in that moment to pinch and suck at her nipples but you know better than to ruin a wedding dress. Especially one that hasn’t been bought yet. Instead you help yourself to the rest of the exposed skin of her chest. 

Aeri’s a mess. Her hair has become wild as she rests her head against the wall, muffling her moans with one hand as the other grips your wrist. It isn’t helping you with anything, just there superficially. The thought that she might have been drooling if you weren’t in a changing room sends pleasure to your groin.

“Isn’t this nice? Being a brat just makes it harder for the both of us.” You husk into her ear. Her throat bobs as she chokes back another whine. 

You’re about to remove her hand so you can kiss her again, but there’s the sound of heels clicking. Then there’s a voice from beyond the changing room. The assistant. Aeri’s muffled moans silence. She’s not completely shameless today. 

One of her hands fumble to your shoulders, pushing you far enough back that you can’t seal her lips with yours. 

“Are you alright in there? You’ve been awhile.” 

You can feel Aeri’s irritation from the clenching of her thighs, or maybe that’s because your fingers never stopped moving. And you don’t stop moving them, even going a step further to curl them into the rough spot on her walls. 

Apparently, the sound of someone else’s voice has shook her from her stupor and she sends you a glare – which isn’t that intimidating since directly after she clamps her mouth closed to conceal another moan – telling you to stop so she can respond to the assistant.

“We’re, ngh- fine! Just swapping out dresses.”

You give her cunt a rather forceful pump, brushing your thumb against her clit on the way up and she digs her nails into your shoulders. Then Aeri’s whole head is buried in your neck muffling a pathetic whine. By the pattern of her walls squeezing your fingers, she’s just hit an orgasm. Her teeth sink into your neck as you let her ride out her high, slowly rubbing circles into her clit.

“Are you sure?” The voice comes from outside again, slightly more concerned.

As Aeri is currently indisposed, you speak up, keeping your tone light. “Yeah, we’re just having a little trouble with the zipper, it’s no problem.”

“Do you mind if I come in? I can take a look at that for you.” 

You’re already moving, quickly dislodging your fingers from their damp position – to the dismay of Aeri who clenches once more, her cunt desperately trying to keep them inside. Rather than putting your fingers into her mouth or even your own, you wipe them on your pants, all the while running your other hand through her hair, trying to make it look less like you’ve just been fucking in the changing room.

“Yeah, that might be helpful!” You call out after a moment, turning Aeri with your hands so that she has her back to you and unzipping her dress just a little. All for show.

The assistant’s head pops in a moment later, moving to your side and looking at the zip. Then she undoes it with ease. You almost laugh at how smoothly it descends down her back. Aeri holds up the bodice, as not to be completely naked.

With the zipper undone, the assistant steps back, holding her hands together and smiles, looking like she’s about to recite a script. Then she pauses, finally noticing the disarray you’re in.

She looks between the two of you, making clear note of Aeri’s bitten red lips and tousled hair and the faint teeth marks on your neck. Her eyes seem to get stuck on the shiny trail of saliva that you had left on Aeri’s chest. Put together with the effortless unzipping of the wedding dress, and the intelligence of anyone over the age of 16, she clues in. 

The assistant dons a forced smile. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask your fiancé to wait outside the dressing room.”

You open your mouth to correct her, show her the lack of ring on your finger or say something about the groom traditionally not seeing the bride in her wedding dress before they’re on the aisle together but you hesitate. Saying that would make all this worse.

Returning her smile, you nod at the assistant, kiss Aeri on the cheek like a good fiancé would and leave the dressing room.

Fucking hell.

AN: lmk if u want more cause i don't think i'm done with this aeri

[workofheart]

jean kirstein relationship hcs

sorry for the inactivity lately y’all school is whooping my ass </3 in the mean time, have some modern jean relationship hcs bc i miss him

protective boyfriend #1 ♡ ♡ ♡ will not hesitate to yell at ppl if they’re mean or rude to you, he doesn’t want anyone coming near you like that. thinks his partner deserves the absolute best and will not tolerate people disrespecting you or even thinking of disrespecting you. he will defend you til the day he dies, even if it embarrasses you

asks the waiter for a new dinner when yours is undercooked and you’re too nervous to say something. if you’re a person w social anxiety or just don’t feel like doing something, he would do things for you no problem, whether its fetching you something, paying for you, ordering for you, etc. he’s not gonna tease you or make fun of you, he’s just happy to help

he’s a sappy drunk :’) when he’s hammered, he gets all clingy and drags you onto the couch to cuddle w you/hangs off of you while you walk home and tells you all about how he feels about you and how he wants to spend his life with you and have dogs and a cute home forever. has the cutest little giggle while literally pouring out his feelings for you 

and if you bring it up in the morning, you KNOW he’s gonna get so shy and red like “oh... i said that? haha...”

his biggest dream is just domesticity with you - like i mentioned, living somewhere beautiful in a nice house with a beautiful family or just you and him :( he really cherishes you and just dreams about spending his life with you. his “happy place” is very likely just the two of you sitting in a field by a river on a sunny day, maybe with some sandwiches and sparkling water, with all the time in the world watching ducks swim by

i imagine that you were previously friends before starting to date, but he’d been seriously pining for you since the beginning, just never wanted to make you uncomfortable and was too scared to say anything. he’d go home after hanging out w you and just sigh (probably yell into his pillow in frustration too but shh) bc he just felt like if it wasn’t you, then who else?

meanwhile you’re being so obvious that you like him back but he keeps reasoning that you’re just being nice and wouldn’t actually want him like that 

was ready to settle for friendship and just lock away his feelings when you just pulled him aside and confessed directly. he was a strangely confused yet happy daze for the following weeks

is a sucker for romance movies - likes imagining him and you in those scenarios, romanticizes your own relationship shamelessly. i feel like he’d enjoy 500 days of summer and... wait for it... clueless. I KNOW. it’s his guilty pleasure. also consider: he bawled his eyes out at the end of la la land.

loves beach dates! loves the beach, loves the boardwalk, loves everything about that summer atmosphere. waits in line to get you funnel cake and then you sit and eat, people watching and making up stories for everyone that passes by and just laughing while you enjoy the fresh summer air. in the arcades, totally the type to win himself a cute plushie but when ur like “omg!! is that for me?” he goes oh yeah haha.. but don’t think he doesn’t notice when you’ve been eyeing up a specific toy at the ring toss stand. he will not hesitate to play game after game until he gets it for you. 

lover of back hugs. he is so generous, literally towers over you no matter ur height, just wraps his arms around u and holds u <3 it makes you feel so safe and loved and that’s all he wants for you 

carries you wherever possible. up the stairs, down the stairs, from the kitchen to the living room and back. he always boasts about how easy it is to pick you up bc he’s strong and it boosts his confidence lol

constantly tells you how pretty he thinks you are. jean always thinks you look beautiful so he always compliments your outfits and your hair and your makeup, leans into ur ear to whisper it to u and make u giggle even when it’s just the two of you at home

on that note: always gets caught staring at you and he blushes so easily when you call him out for it. can’t stop looking at you over the top of his newspaper when you’re having breakfast in the morning, can’t stop looking at you while you’re making dinner for him, can’t stop looking at you while you work or study

for valentines/your birthday/holidays he always makes you cute handmade cards out of colored construction paper. he finds a new design every single time and spends so long on it, and finishes by writing out how he feels on the inside. can u just imagine him sitting at his desk, tongue poking out of his mouth with a glue stick in hand as he lays down different colored paper hearts :( 

teases you nonstop. always poking fun at you, probably make jokes about how “irresistible” he is and how you can’t keep away lol, thinks you look adorable when you’re flustered

u give him haircuts when it’s getting long, he sits on a stool in ur bathroom and u just give him a trim every once in a while. trusts you not to fuck it up (not that you ever would) and it always comes out so nice and it makes his heart swell just to have you there to do such intimate, sort of domestic things for him.

pet names! i know so many people have talked about this but it’s just so true. has tried everything in the book to see what you like, watches carefully to see how you respond so he knows, occasionally calls you something silly like “pookie” just to get a reaction out of you

needs verbal communication. jean always has so much on his plate and has a lot of insecurities, so he really needs that reassurance that you need him and love him every day until he can accept it for himself

favorite position to sleep in is him on his back with your head on that area between his neck and shoulder, holds you really close during the night. loves loves loves when you nestle into him and cling to him for warmth when you’re asleep. has trouble sleeping if you aren’t there

dotes on you so much seriously he is so sweet and caring, just so whipped for you. he is literally so weak and always gives into you just bc it makes you happy. you want to drive out for mcdonald’s at two in the morning for an apple pie and a shake? he’s getting his keys rn

nsfw below the cut (18+)

i think mostly everyone is in agreement that jean is a total pleasure dom - he spends all night getting you to cum again and again, always asking if you can give him one more

as mentioned earlier, teases. avoids giving you what you want at first, makes you use your words, and when when you do get it, you’re getting it. aka, overstim galore. he’s not stopping until you’re spent

so much dirty talk, asks so many questions to get you to talk. “louder for me, princess” type of guy. wants to reduce you to babbling with how good he makes you feel - the sounds you make get him so incredibly hard

he is also vocal bc he knows you like it. groans his name into your ear just to feel you clench, then laughs.

never forgets to mark you up, leaves hickeys all over your neck and chest and thighs. loves to look at them later on when you’re changing, and especially loves your reaction to seeing them for yourself

size kink!! this man is almost 6’3 so chances are he’s gonna be bigger than you regardless. likes being close to you, likes being in positions where he can see you, probably has an arm slung around your waist or back whenever the position allows for it so he can hold you close

pins your arms down, holds your hips to the bed so you just have to sink into the mattress and take it

every time he aims to fuck your brains out and make sure the only thing you’re thinking about is him and how good he makes you feel

his fingers are fucking magical, dear lord, he gets you so worked up and knows just how to touch you to make you squirm, loves seeing you go hazy and unravel on his fingers. his fingers are so long and gentle and stretch you out so nice + he knows exactly what to do, where to touch you, when to change his motions to get you there in minutes

needs to be kissing you when he makes you cum. swallows your moans, adores how you struggle to kiss him back with the pleasure he’s giving you

mirror sex is top tier for him, probably has one of those siding door closets w mirrors next to his bed so he can make you look at yourself and watch just what he’s doing to you

eye contact, will 100% grab your jaw to make you look at him, loves seeing you stare up at him through glassy eyes

literal KING of aftercare. takes such good care of you, gets you anything and everything you need, cleans up so well, gives you the world and more

[noctumbra]

peaches: nine [part one]

summary ─ “holy shit,” bucky breathed as he took in the sight before him. “happy fucking birthday to me, indeed.” 

pairing ─ dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, age difference (reader is 21, bucky is 39 40), secret relationship, birthday sex, vaginal sex, lingerie, kissing, pet names, dirty talk, d/s undertones, fluff, oral sex

a/n ─ for our buck’s birthday, i present you a peaches one-shot lol it’s been so long since i wrote them, i missed them sm <33 thank you nonnie for the idea 😌 there you go, part one, 3.9k words lmao hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank youuu <333 

(the lingerie is veery similar to this one, by the way. minus the lace beneath the bra part and the string in the middle [attached to the neck] ++ this is the plug)

peaches masterlist

Bucky wasn’t fond of his birthday this year. He was turning 40 and wasn’t exactly happy about it. Every day leading up to his fortieth birthday, he watched himself in his mirror, watched the grays and whites in his beard and hair multiplying and becoming more visible.

Although she said that she loved how they made him look even sexier, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a bit old. The age gap between them wasn’t an issue, they had discussed it before, but he just couldn’t help himself. Now that he was now 40, he felt self-conscious. He was old while she was young ─ 21, to be exact─ and he had grays in his hair and beard and lines on his face─

“Fuck this,” Bucky grumbled to himself as he frowned at his reflection on the mirror. He knew Steve and Sam were planning something for his birthday, they were never slick about it. He also knew his other friends would be there, too, and maybe his sister. He didn’t want to celebrate his birthday this year, but he had no excuse to use.

“Fuck this, Jesus Christ,” he grunted this time. Bucky walked towards his closet and picked out his usual dark jeans, dark gray henley and a black t-shirt to wear beneath. Just as he put on his jeans and pulled his t-shirt on, he heard a bang coming from his living room. He frowned at first, but then chuckled when he heard her voice: “I’m fine!” Bucky shook his head with a smile on his lips. She was the only thing that was going to make his birthday party tolerable, he knew it.

A minute later, she appeared at his bedroom door with his favorite smile on her face. “Sir!” She exclaimed, making him chuckle. “Today is your birthday! How is it feel to be old?” His mood deflating a little, he shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, “My back ache decided to take the day off. Ask me again when it comes back.” She laughed. Crossing the threshold, she threw herself on his arms.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered, her hot breath licking his neck and sending shivers down his spine. “I’m glad you’re getting old healthily.” Bucky snorted. “I don’t know what I’m saying, ignore me, please,” she murmured, a whine hidden behind her words.

“’s alright,” Bucky murmured back. “Thank you, peaches.” Giggling silently, she pulled back and looked at him. Bucky swore that none of the women that he used to be with made him feel this way just by looking at him the way she did: All cared about and loved. A smile took over her face, and she lifted herself on her tiptoes. Her soft lips found his gently. His eyes closing, Bucky held her close to him and let her kiss him.

She moaned into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck while a hand dove inside his hair. Bucky walked blindly towards the nearest flat surface, which was the wall next to his closet, and caged her between his body and the surface. Pulling back for a breath, Bucky moved his lips down to her neck. He kissed her there so gently all the time because it was her sensitive spot: Always got her gasping and whining, and today was no different. He heard her gasp and swallow a whine when she felt his lips on her neck.

A pull on his hair, Bucky lifted his head and captured her lips again. He swallowed all the moans, whimpers and gasps she let out. She felt so good in his arms, in his space, Bucky wanted to keep her forever and not being judged about it.

“Okay, I take it back,” she breathed when Bucky pulled back. “You’re not a old man, okay.” Bucky smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he said. “A kiss is nothing. You should see what I can do with the rest of my body.” She shuddered in his arms, and Bucky tightened his hold on her body.

“I’m aware of the capabilities that your ‘old man’ body has,” she grumbled. Bucky chuckled and lowered her on the ground. She fixed her clothes and hair, trying not to look like she just made out. When she was done, she lifted her head and kissed Bucky on the cheek. “Happy birthday, again,” she whispered. Bucky smiled. She kissed him on the lips one last time and pulled back. “I gotta go. I sneaked out, I was supposed to be helping Papa.” Bucky nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.” He frowned when she suddenly looked bashful.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.” She smiled and fled. Bucky continued to frown after her, not understanding what just happened.

──

If Bucky had to be honest, Sam and Steve didn’t go overboard with his birthday party. It was low-key; there was Sam, Steve, Peggy, Sharon, Clint, Thor and her. Rebecca was supposed to be attending, too, but she had a last minute thing about work. She called him in the morning, and they already scheduled a breakfast date/belated birthday party for Saturday. It was nice. The cake had a small card saying ‘happy b-day gramps’, and there was exactly forty candles which Bucky knew it was Sam’s doing. He rolled his eyes playfully. It didn’t sting that much; he knew his friends were just playing with him because almost all of them were around the same age.

Bucky sighed quietly, breathing in the late night’s crisp air deeply, he closed his eyes for a second. He was happy. He had his family he called two days a week, his friends who were bunch of dumbasses but he loved them anyway.

He also had Y/N.

God, Bucky thought, recalling the memory they had about having a future and a family together. He wanted to tell Sam and Steve, but he was truly afraid of their reaction. At the end, they trusted him with their daughter, they thought she saw him as an uncle not as a lover. When their relationship came out, it was going to be a shitshow, Bucky was sure of it. She was worth every trouble, though.

“Hey,” Bucky jumped lightly when he heard her. He beamed and his lips split into a smile.

“Hi,” Bucky said, silently inviting her to be close to him. She inched closer, almost snuggling up at him.

“How did you find your party so far?” She asked, nudging him a bit. Bucky shrugged. He liked it. It was fun and didn’t actually feel like a birthday party; it was more like a comeback together party.

“It was nice,” he ended up saying. “I had fun.” She hummed. “The candles were a nice touch,” he added and got a small laugh out of her.

“Yeah, they were my idea,” she admitted. “Papa loved it, though.” Bucky chuckled.

“Shoulda known,” he murmured. She smiled and snuggled against his arm. It took almost all of his will power to not pull her into his arms and cuddle her right here. He knew he couldn’t do it, not when all of his friends were around let alone her parents.

“Can I come by your place tonight?” She asked. “I wanna give you my gift.” Bucky nodded absently.

“You didn’t have to buy me anything, honey, you know that right?” Bucky said, his voice gentle and low. She nodded and shrugged at the same time. “You can also give me your gift now, too, if you want.” She ducked her head down.

“It’s not that kind of gift, Sir,” she whispered, causing Bucky’s eyes widen. “I prefer to give it to you when we are alone.” Bucky licked his lips, swallowing audibly.

“Alright,” he muttered. “How about 1AM?”

“That’s fine,” she agreed. She kissed his cheek before pulling back, Bucky immediately missed her warmth next to him. “I’ll see you then, Sir,” she said. Bucky nodded.

He felt like he was in for something and he couldn’t wait to figure out what it was.

──

Bucky returned home quarter to midnight, claiming that he was tired and stuffed full with sugar and its energy was finally wearing off. The others agreed; it was still a week-day at the end and most of his friends were working still.

He took a shower, trying to calm down and kill some time until 1AM. He was eager to see her, to have her company and enjoy it freely. It was hard enough to stop himself kissing her the way he wanted to after he blew his candles off, so some alone would do them good, Bucky knew it.

The more his will power was being tested, the more he thought about coming out clean to Sam and Steve. He didn’t want to hide their relationship. He wanted to take her out on dates without the fear of getting seen by some people Sam or Steve might know. He wanted to hold her hand, cuddle her on the couch or kiss her wherever and whenever he wanted to. He needed to discuss this with her first, though.

Mind full of ideas about how to tell them, Bucky stepped out of the shower and moved onto his kitchen after putting on only his sweatpants (no boxers, either, because they were gonna come off anyway). It was just half past midnight, and he had half an hour to spend by himself until she came. Bucky sighed as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. He just stood in his dark kitchen, saved from the street lights sizzling inside through the window above the sink, sipping his water in silence.

He must have zoned out because he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the shy knock on his door. Setting down his glass, Bucky ran towards the door and opened it.

“Hi,” she breathed, quickly stepping inside and letting Bucky close the door behind her. She had casual clothes on, sweatpants and an oversize sweatshirt, but she took his breath away anyway.

“Hi, baby,” Bucky whispered and watched her getting shy delightfully. When he stepped closer to kiss her, she stepped back.

“Um,” she started, “I-I prefer─ with your gift, uh.” Stammering over her words, she played with her fingers. “Give me five minutes, and then come to the bedroom okay?” Bucky opened his mouth protest, but she was quick to shut him up. “Please, Sir?” Exhaling defeatedly, Bucky nodded.

“Alright,” he said, and she disappeared. The curiosity was eating him alive, but he wasn’t about to go and ruin this thing for her. If she wanted to give him a private gift, then she was going to give it to him on her own terms.

Walking back to his kitchen, Bucky fiddled with his half-full glass, playing with the water and sipping it sometimes.

He never knew that five minutes could feel like five centuries.

After his time was up, Bucky walked towards his bedroom, his heart beating faster with each step. The door was ajar. The major lights were off, but she chose to turn on the ones on the sides of his bed, they were dimmed. It gave the room a warmer vibe. His curtains were drawn, and Bucky could pick out the clothes she was wearing when she stepped inside his house. He moved his eyes on his bed, feeling his lungs stopped working, Bucky froze. 

She was in the middle of his bed, sitting on knees. She had red lingerie set on her; the lace design bra was hugging her breasts nicely, the garter belt was around her waist and was attached to the thigh stockings and the matching underwear was carrying the same lace design with the bra. She looked so damn beautiful, Bucky didn’t know how to function.

“Holy shit,” he breathed as he took in the sight before him. “Happy fucking birthday to me, indeed.” She ducked her head down, shy and feeling a little bit self-conscious about her body. Bucky wasn’t going to have that. Not when she looked like a fucking goddess before him. He leaned forward, not getting on the bed, and grabbed her chin gently. Lifting it up, he found her eyes and looked right into them. “You look so beautiful,” he whispered. “I cannot believe you chose me, and you’re givin’ yourself to me as a gift.” She smiled. It was her shy and adorable one, Bucky loved it. “Peaches,” Bucky whispered once more. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.” She chuckled.

“You promised me not to die on me until I’m right behind you, Barnes,” she whispered back, smiling widely. Bucky let out a soft chuckle and fully leaned into kiss her.

The second their lips touched, both of them moaned in relief. It wasn’t the first kiss they had shared that day, but this one was full of promises and things to come in the next few hours. So, Bucky half-climbed on the bed, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her the way he wanted to since the beginning of his party.

Her lips were so soft against his, caressing his slightly chapped ones so nicely, Bucky felt his heart flutter. She vaguely tasted like peaches, and Bucky pulled back just a tad to huff a laugh.

“You taste like peaches,” he whispered. She giggled.

“Yeah, I restocked my lip balm,” she answered and pulled him back into the kiss. Bucky groaned this time. Fully climbing on the bed, leaning over to make her lay on her back, Bucky settled between her legs. The kiss they were sharing went from soft to passionate quickly. Bucky’s hands were traveling all over her body as he tilted his face from side to side so that he could deepen the kiss as he wished.

“God, honey,” Bucky groaned as he lowered his lips to her neck. Kissing and sucking the soft skin there, Bucky rubbed his stubble all over her collarbones. He was about to move south, put his lips on her stomach and maybe give her an appropriate kiss on some place he knew so well, but she pushed him back.  

“My gift, remember?” She said when she saw the confused look on his face. “Lingerie was just a side gift.” Bucky raised his brows as he pulled back a bit more to give her space. She smiled and flipped on her stomach. Her knees drawn up, hands flat on the sides of her head and her face plastered on his pillow, she wiggled her ass.

Her underwear was fucking backless.

“Motherfuck─” Bucky hissed. “What the fuck. Oh my God, peaches, what─” His hands were moving before he could process, grabbing two handful of flesh, Bucky squeezed them. She whimpered. Bucky pulled back one hand and brought it back harshly, slapping her soft flesh, making it burn.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered as she bit her lip.

“What the fuck─ is this─” Bucky’s eyes zeroed in on the plug nestled between her cheeks. It had a heart shaped base, red jewel adorning it. It looked so pretty, Bucky wanted to leave it just like that, but he also wanted to play with so damn bad. “Sweetheart. Are you sure?”

“Mmhm,” she hummed. “Wan’ you to do it, please, Sir?” She looked at him over her shoulder.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky whispered to himself. She always begged him so pretty, never left a chance to say ‘no’, and this time wasn’t different. “Alright, baby,” Bucky said. His fingers pressing on the plug, pushing it a bit deeper. She moaned. She lifted her ass even more up in the air, and Bucky felt like he was dreaming.

Even if he was, this was the best dream he ever had, he was fucking sure of it.

Grumbling meaningless things to himself, Bucky grabbed the base of the cute plug. He could see how wet her pussy was, could see it glistening and wetting her inner thighs, and he honestly didn’t know if he wanted her pussy or her ass first.

“How long can you stay?” He asked, voice low. She sighed happily.

“’til seven,” she answered. She was half-slurring. Bucky hummed, knowing that he had a long time ahead of him to play with her properly, he got off the bed to take off his sweatpants. Sliding a finger under the garter belt, Bucky pulled and released it, making it slap her skin. Bucky watched her ass jiggle deliciously as she gasped lightly. He pressed kisses all the way up to her spine and reached into his drawer to pull out condoms. “Mm, no,” she said, “Got an IUD.”

“I’m loving you even more every second,” Bucky said as he dropped the condom back into the drawer, pulling an amused chuckle out of her. Instead of condoms, Bucky pulled out his lube and put it someplace easy to reach. “I’m gonna tell you what I’m gonna do to you, alright, baby?” She nodded. Placing a kiss on her nape, Bucky took a hold of her hair, pulling it a little.

“First,” he started, “I’m gonna kiss anywhere I want.” Doing as he said; he kissed her neck, her jaw, shoulder blades, spine and her sides. Then, he moved up to kiss her on the lips filthily. This kiss was all about spit and passion and owning, she fucking loved it.

“Then, I’m gonna get you naked,” he whispered. His fingers were quick to find the clip of her bra and undoing it. Sliding the straps of her shoulders slowly, Bucky helped take the bra off. “But I’m gonna keep these,” he said, slapping her ass with one hand while the other one cupped her pussy from the front. She moaned loudly. “The backside of this underwear…” Bucky murmured. “The way your ass looks so damn beautiful in it…” Bucky moved down to bite her ass cheek lightly, making her yelp. “I’m gonna fuck you in it, peaches.”

Dragging one finger all the way from her clit to her plug, Bucky hummed. “I’mma fuck this little thing, first,” he said, inserting two of his fingers into your pussy. “It looks too wet and cute for me to not touch it, y’know,” he added. “But I was thinking maybe I would…” He trailed off as he leaned forward and just licked a fat line up to her plug. She shuddered under his tongue.

“Anything,” she sobbed into his pillow. “Anything you want, Sir, take it!” Chuckling darkly, Bucky did exactly that.

He trailed his tongue up and down, collecting all of her juices that were licking out constantly, licking her inner thighs clean, Bucky pushed his tongue inside of her. She whimpered and wiggled. Bucky was quick to give her a slap on her ass; a warning for her to stay still. She meekly apologized and stopped moving. Bucky slurped, his tongue dove deeper and curved just right. She groaned long and loud, Bucky was so glad that he wasn’t living at an apartment or something.

He pulled back. He was way too impatient for eating her out properly. Grabbing a hold of his cock, he dragged it up and down for a couple times. When he was sure that his dick was covered with her wetness, he slowly inched inside of her.

She gasped, her breath getting stuck on her throat as she fisted the sheets and arched her back. As Bucky slid deeper into her, he felt like was he could explode anytime. She was so tight, so wet and so warm around him, it was like sinking deep into silk sheets in a warm night… It felt so damn good.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Bucky moaned. “You’re tighter than a virgin, I fucking swear,” he grumbled as he leaned forward to cage her body under his. When his hips were flush against her, he stopped for a second. He didn’t want to come too early, but he had been Horny as hell ever since he saw that little plug nestled in its place.

This one was going to be a quick, take-the-edge-off kind of one.

“I’m not gonna last,” Bucky whispered and felt her nod. She was close already, Bucky could feel her walls fluttering around him. His eyes rolled backwards a little when he started to move his hips. Her tight as fuck heat was wrapped around him so damn nicely, Bucky was a little surprised that he hadn’t come as soon as he entered her.

His slow pace didn’t take too long to turn into a desperate, fast and hard one. His hips were slapping against hers, their sweaty skin making obscene sounds echoing in his bedroom. He was so close, so horny, that it really didn’t take him too long to feel his balls tighten. Bucky buried a groan into her neck. His hips were moving on a punishing pace. His hard cock was driving in and out of her pussy with obscene squelching sounds. All those sounds and her moaning and whimpering beneath him were getting to his head real fast. Bucky gasped.

“Sir─” She choked on a breath and gasped just like him. “’m so fuckin’ close, Sir, please!” Her legs were shaking, her chest was heaving and Bucky could feel the flutter of her walls increasing and becoming more intense with each thrust of his.

“God, honey, me too,” he moaned. His pace was halting, he knew he was about to come. Groaning, Bucky slipped his fingers on her front and found her clit. She screamed. “Shit!” Bucky cursed as she came unexpectedly. Her knees buckled with the intensity of her orgasm and she collapsed on the bed with Bucky’s cock still hard and still inside of her. Bucky cursed again, taking a hold of her knees, he spread her legs to her sides. They were quivering in his hands, and he knew she was sensitive, but he was right fucking there. Lying fully on top her, Bucky started to move his hips again. It was a filthy and only focused on chasing his orgasm kind of pace, this time.

“Oh, fuck, Sir!” She exclaimed, eyes widening. Bucky was in deep. He was in so deep, her walls were so tight─

“Shit,” Bucky cursed. “Fuck, oh, God, ah, fuuck─!” The delirious movements of his hips stopped. His balls tightened, cock twitched in her and he came. Eyes rolling backwards, Bucky groaned loud and long. His taut muscles going lax, his hot breath licking her over-heated body and her tightness was still hugging his poor cock so nicely.

“God, Bucky, what the fuck,” she panted. Bucky hummed. He rubbed his stubble-covered jaw on her shoulder affectionately. Easing off of her, Bucky dropped himself next to her and pulled her into his arms to cuddle. “My legs won’t stop quiver.”

Bucky snorted. “You’re welcome,” he grumbled. She rolled her eyes but stayed quiet, burrowing herself deeper into her lover’s arms. Their eyes were closing, they were tired and much needed orgasm had loosened up their tensed muscles. “Round two in an hour,” Bucky slurred. “Gonna play with you.”

She just hummed and closed her eyes.

A little energy nap would do them good, she knew it.

──

[part two will be up soon!]

[seacottons]

—ateez as boyfriends [ domestic au ]

notes: swearing. suggestive dialogue. fluff. i blame a certain someone for this, not gonna say who. @kireiwoo

— hongjoong

very caring and attentive towards you

so much so, that even his friends have complained how it isn't fair he doesn't scold you like the way he does to them

he enjoys many activities with you, such as

helping him dye his hair an ungodly color every other month

he'll insist you try experimenting with your own tresses

but you only have the courage to dye the very ends of your strands

"i don't think i can pull off that color as well as you do," you'd say.

"that's a load of bull. you'll suit every hair color."

you'll just roll your eyes playfully at his biased behavior.

other activities include getting tiny matching tattoos together.

the tiny flower and butterfly on your wrists was most likely your favorite due to its simplicity in design and the meaning behind it as well.

spontaneous dates are his favorite.

behind closed doors, he loves to constantly shower you with pecks and smooches.

often gets teased by his friends from how whipped he is for you.

randomly books vacations for you two to relax and unwind every so often.

although he enjoys it, he is a big, tired baby when it comes to traveling

always wanting to lean his head against your shoulder

or cuddling you close for warmth due to the airport's air conditioners blasting frigid air.

has written many songs about you

and when he's finally ready, he'll not only ask you to listen to them, but to also spend the rest of your life with him and share his last name as well.

— seonghwa

constant pet names

"darling."

"the sun to my stars."

"the moon to my sun."

"love of my life."

you like to call him mars, mostly.

but he revels when you call him 'twinkle eyes' for some reason.

has a habit of pulling you into his lap.

you'll subconsciously play with the strands of his hair as he does so, him being too distracted bickering with his friends to realize sometimes.

will always give you pleading looks whenever wooyoung or san tease him.

sometimes, you walk in to find wooyoung settling onto your boyfriend's back while he greedily devours the bowl of popcorn entirely by himself.

or other times when both wooyoung and san constrict his limbs with their arms whenever you're near.

"y/n can't save you now, so cut the whining."

you'll only sigh and shake your head in amusement.

"what are you guys doing to my poor boyfriend?"

"he changed the movie we were watching without our permission!"

"because i have no damn clue what's going on, and harry potter is too confusing!"

coffee dates.

loves to sleep with you tucked against his chest.

always has an arm draped around your frame.

butterfly kisses on your neck.

soft touches against the small of your back and waist.

his favorite pastime with you would be stargazing.

"baby, look. it's me, mars-io," he'd say whilst pointing up to the large, bright star in the night sky.

when it's too cloudy outside, or when the weather isn't forgiving, he'll turn on the indoor star projector he bought so the two of you can stargaze in the comfort of your own bed.

— yunho

is the epitome of romantic.

is constantly smothering you in love and affection.

always has heart eyes and admiration in his eyes at whatever small task you do or say.

rant about an ancient dynasty?

heart eyes.

bombard him with useless information about a certain abandoned island.

heart eyes.

gush about the new cute bakery that recently opened up?

heart eyes.

if you had a money jar for every time he says 'i love you', you'd have enough money to buy a plane ticket or two.

always willing to drop everything to help you with whatever it is you need.

will wake up in the middle of the night when you text him to ask if he's awake or not.

willingly stays up to keep you company.

but sometimes, when he's too tired, he'll knock out accidentally and profusely apologize to you in the morning.

very supportive of your life choices.

hates seeing you cry because it makes him want to bawl his eyes out as well.

his hugs are bone-crushing.

but he is a gentle giant nonetheless.

likes to attempt to bake pastries with you.

half of the time, the goods either turn out undercooked or burnt.

"they have love in them, that's all that matters."

will always insist that you can rant to him about anything and everything.

you've never felt so valued in your life before meeting him.

is the most understanding human being you've ever gotten the pleasure of knowing.

"i wish we were vampires," he says one day.

you give him an amused look, lips outstretched into a smile, "why, silly?"

"so we can spend an eternity together."

— yeosang

his heart flutters when you notice the smallest things he does.

it makes him feel appreciated and acknowledged.

like when he changes up his hairstyle or earrings.

or when he wears a new sweater.

a big, big softie when it comes to you.

can and will want to spend all day in your arms on his days off.

quick witted and has a knack for noticing the tiniest detail.

very shy and awkward at first.

but when he gets more comfortable as time passes on, you won't be safe from his snarky little comments anymore.

will constantly bring up the thing you said or did months ago to prove a point.

"oh, you like this flavor? three months ago you told me it tasted like vomit."

"remember that time you woke up in a rush to get to work thinking you were late, only for me to drag you back inside because it was three in the fucking morning?"

you stop mid-chew and peer up from your plate of rice.

"your point, yeosang?"

"oh, nothing this time. i just wanted to tease you."

is the type to have a mid-life crisis when you can't decide on a restaurant.

"but i don't want to eat at the chicken place again," you'll whine.

"it's been thirty minutes, and you still haven't decided what you want!"

"you're rushing me!"

"y/n! just pick!"

loves to cuddle with you, especially in the colder months.

wraps a blanket around your frame and tugs you in closer against his chest.

pretends not to understand your jokes just to spite and tease you.

loves when you cling onto him.

his favorite pastime with you would be just walking around together at night and trying out different types of street food.

or even visiting any of the local beaches for a relaxing walk together.

— san

persistently keen about whenever you feel upset or down.

he reads you better than any open book.

sometimes, it scares you, but you appreciate how he's always so eagle-eyed about your behavior.

loves to hug your head.

you allow wooyoung to crash some of your dates with san sometimes.

other times, san will whine and tell him to go find his own date.

"if y/n accepted you as a boyfriend, then you should've disclosed that i'm part of the deal as well. buy one get one free."

"as what exactly?"

"the hot, clingy best friend."

will take numerous duck-faced selfies of himself because you think they're cute.

often times, he'll ask you to mirror his expression, only for him to press his lips against yours a second before his phone snaps the picture.

likes when you kiss his dimple.

"y/n! it looks like a crater from the amount of times you've kissed it."

he likes to tease you.

a lot.

touchy.

very touchy.

always has an arm around you.

rests his chin against your shoulders.

playfully smacks your rear when you're sassy with him.

or leans in to hold your jaw whilst whispering teasing words into your ear that has you becoming docile and bothered in mere seconds.

has you wrapped around his finger as much as you have him wrapped around your own.

likes to have weekly picnics with you at the park and admires all the dogs running about.

"i should bring byeol next week. maybe she'll like to play fetch too."

"i don't think that's a good idea.."

you often find him fast asleep holding onto a plushie for dear life whenever you're away.

you'll pull it away from his arms, causing him to stir awake groggily.

he'll stare in confusion as you throw the plushie aside, before pulling you in tighter as you wriggle into his arms.

"you're softer than shiber," he'll mumble sleepily against the crown of your head.

— mingi

mingi is sometimes self-conscious around the public eye and others, but when it comes to you, those layers of fear and insecurity get stripped away instantly.

doesn't mind being vulnerable with you.

he craves affection, adores it even, but is insecure about not being able to return it well enough for his liking.

likes when you give him attention.

easily gets jealous when someone else grabs your interest.

reassuring him 24/7.

"yes, mingi. you're the love of my life."

kissing his pouting lips for good measure.

the smallest of gestures has him a blushing mess.

even holding hands in public.

when he's not being a sentimental sap, he'll like teasing you lovingly.

"wow, you have this many photos of me in your phone?"

you'll scrutinize him in confusion.

"are you that obsessed with me, y/n?"

"mingi! you told me to take half of those photos of you!"

"oh, right. i forgot."

a silence weighs down onto the two of you.

"but would you have taken them if i never asked you to?"

constantly laughs about the things you say, although you don't think you're that funny.

always seeks your approval subconsciously.

will always shield you from the rain, playfully yelling at the droplets sometimes.

"you can't make y/n wet! only i can!"

"mingi! we are in public!"

wanted to go strawberry picking because he saw a celebrity try it out on instagram live.

accidentally steps on many berries though.

"it's okay, they'll just make another plant. i did them a favor."

brags about you like no tomorrow.

even for the tiniest, minuscule thing.

"oh, i've already tried the brand of ice cream. y/n always buys that for me."

"i don't need to pay all this money for a measly slice of cake. y/n's cakes are much better."

"no, wooyoung. i'm not jealous of your new shoes." he'll lightly pinch the boy's side, "y/n and i have already bought ourselves matching pairs."

"you two are so fucking cheesy, it hurts."

when he's not bragging about you, he's boasting about himself.

but if that's what helps him raise his confidence levels up, you'll gladly sit down hours on end listening to how he has more 'swag' and 'charisma' than all of his older friends combined.

— wooyoung

teases you like his life depends on it.

says you can't get enough of him, when in reality it's the other way around.

but you let him believe whatever he wants.

but deep down he just really gets satisfied with himself if he raises your mood and makes you smile.

especially when you're not having a great day.

uses way too many emojis when texting you.

"wooyoung, why am i saved as as 'clingy bug' on your contacts?"

he'll squawk indignantly and laugh awkwardly for a second.

"who told you this lie!?"

"seonghwa?"

always wants to show off your love in front of his friends.

"no, i don't want my early birthday gift now. wait until the others show up, and do it front of them."

"but why?"

"so everyone can see how much you love me. can you also cry for good measure?"

"absolutely not."

he enjoys the dates you have in his apartment the most.

the ones where he cooks for you and asks for your help, only for him to pester you about over-seasoning or undersalting something.

"okay, fine! we'll just order take out if it tastes that bad," you pout, flinging a small piece of onion on his face.

his head instantly snaps back to eye you judgingly, fist gripping the poor spatula.

"over my dead body."

"so, y/n. how does my plating look?"

"it's beautiful, wooyoung. you've outdone y-"

"what else is beautiful?" he demands, face leaning over the table to give you a knowing grin.

you shove a piece of meat and rice into his mouth, shrugging nonchalantly.

"me."

he deflates at your answer, spluttering pieces of rice onto your face.

"jung wooyoung, you slob!"

— jongho

is the type of boyfriend to stop you in the middle of the road to tie your shoe for you.

very charming and goofy in his own way.

takes pride in himself and his abilities to cater to your every whim and need.

even when you don't ask for his help.

aggressively opens jars for you when you struggle to pry them open.

"no one messes with my y/n."

"you're fussing at a jar of pickled radish, baby."

the type to cling close to you in public in fear of any of the bicyclists or pedestrians bumping into you and harming you in any way.

sometimes acts like you're made of glass.

while it's endearing occasionally, it is a bit suffocating at other times.

doesn't believe you when you say you're tough and don't need protection.

very selfless and willing to help you with anything you need.

never one to shy away from social gatherings with his friends, always pulling you along with him despite you being shy and clingy most of the night.

also a big tease.

when you help him hold down his legs for sit ups, he asks for a smooch.

pulls away from you when you try to kiss him.

and will laugh at your pouting face as he urges you to try once more.

"stop moving, i just want to kiss you!"

after numerous tries, he finally allows you ( you truly think you over-powered him though ) to kiss his cheeks or lips.

he then proceeds to squawk loudly in retaliation and playful disgust.

although he loves teasing you, when the game is flipped the other way, he'll be a shy mess of embarrassment.

"i don't mumble your name in my sleep."

"you always do, silly."

tucked underneath his macho exterior, you know he's prone to criticism and takes it to heart much more than he likes to show and admit.

so, whenever you get the chance, you always fulfill his need to be appreciated, loved, and taken care of.

is utterly and extremely protective of you.

"who just whistled at you?" he grumbles, "i'll break their jaw like an apple, you know i will."

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #6 - No One Said Anything About a Metal Arm

Word Count: 2011

Warnings: Explosions, Gunshots, The Winter Soldier, Implied Death, Stevie Almost Crying

Setting/Characters: Towards the End of Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Bucky Barnes; Mentions of Alexander Pierce, Arnim Zola

A/N: This one took me a while to write and I’ll tell you why. Rewatching this movie made me want to do a complete rewrite of it. I had so many ideas of where the reader could be and why and what she was doing then and all that. But…I told myself this is a One Shot of her unofficially meeting Bucky for the first time. Which is why it seems incomplete - because it kinda is - it’s just that scene picked from the movie. Am I happy with it? Eh. Am I holding back from writing more parts and just saying “forget this piece, it never happened”? Maybe. But, I can’t. I wish I could. But if I were to rewrite this movie, I’d rewrite the next one. And the next one. And it would take me months to finish these. So…this is what you’re getting.

Also, NO ONE MENTION WHAT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN IN A COUPLE HOURS! I’M THIS CLOSE TO FREAKING OUT!

Thanks! As always, it’s not beta’d, so please excuse mistakes! Enjoy reading, be kind to yourselves and others, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

********

Sitting on the edge of the old dam was calming. Peaceful, even. The constant sound of the flowing water, the trees swaying in the slight breeze. It was nice to take a breath after everything that had gone down the past week.

To say you were worried was an understatement. The last time you saw Steve was the evening after you met Sam. He dropped you off at your place, refusing your invitation to stay saying that he should probably check on his apartment since he hadn’t been there in a while.

A lot had changed since then.

Steve was wanted by SHIELD, along with Natasha. Fury was considered dead, but was actually still kicking in the structure beneath your feet with the help of you and Hill. You had tried to go after Steve, but it was too risky. Pierce - who you were almost 100% certain was behind this whole thing - had been keeping a close eye on you since Steve ran away, knowing you’d be behind him. You tried to catch the blonde at the hospital, but you were seconds too late, meeting up with Natasha who told you STRIKE already took him away for questioning.

You had been called by Hill and she told you what had happened. Fury had asked for your help specifically, considering the amount of times you’d had to fake your own death while being undercover. And you’d been dealing with that ever since.

You had wanted to go get the three of them - you learned Sam joined Steve and Natasha, which somehow didn’t surprise you - but Hill refused, saying you needed to stay there just in case.

But Fury was fine, no one was coming, which is how you found yourself swinging your legs above a hundred feet of rushing water.

It didn’t last long. A car pulling up to the side entrance caught your eye and you immediately swung your legs around to rush towards the stairs. It’s not like you haven’t gone longer without seeing Steve before. You’d gone months without seeing him. It was your job. But this was different. Whether it was because for the first time he was the one who left or because he was on the run from the organization you worked for, you didn’t know and didn’t care. All you knew was you needed to see him. Make sure he was okay.

It took you a while to get there, all the stairs and corners and twist and turns. You got there just as Fury ended his explanation, hearing him tell the trio, “can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides…I wasn’t sure who to trust.”

Your footsteps were echoing and you were sure Steve heard you but when you entered the room, his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening. “Honey?”

“Oh thank fucking God.” You breathed out, jogging over to squeeze him tightly. 

“Y/N…” He murmured in your hair, hugging you tightly back. “What happened? Why are you here?”

Pulling back, you jerked your thumb over your shoulder to the director. “I’m saving his ass.” Your finger then jabbed into his firm chest, your lips falling into a frown. “And worrying about yours. Are you okay?”

“I am. Natasha got shot, but she’ll live.”

You looked over at Natasha, who nodded in confirmation, before looking back into those azure eyes of Steve’s. “What happened? Pierce is keeping a tight lid on everything. I was gonna come find you, but I couldn’t because he was watching me. It’s a miracle I got away from them to help Nicky boy. I haven’t gone out since. But, honest, I was gonna-”

“Honey, honey. You’re rambling again.” Steve chuckled, hand resting on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’ve been safe here. Pierce is behind this whole thing-”

“Yeah, I figured that-”

“-It’s HYDRA, Y/N.”

You froze. “What? HYDRA? Whaddya mean?”

Steve nodded. “HYDRA’s what’s been infiltrating SHIELD. It’s a long story, but Zola continued it when he was hired for-”

“Operation Paperclip. Yeah, I remember learning about that.” You ran a hand over your face. “Okay…” You hummed, looking at the three of them. “Let’s…talk about it more in a little bit. I know we gotta act soon, but Natasha and Fury need to heal a little bit longer and you should get some rest. You look tired.”

Everyone seemed to agree with your statement, starting to disperse from the room. You started walking out, too, when Steve grabbed your bicep and pulled you aside, down the hall a ways away. You opened your mouth, only for him to pull you into his chest.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

You nodded, lightly scratching his back, your arms around his slim waist. “I’m glad you are too.” You could feel how tense he was, which was understandable considering what he’d gone through the past couple days. But there was something else. Something in the grip he had on your shirt. The way his heart was hammering against your chest. His erratic breathing and his ducked head. You pulled away to catch his jaw between your fingers, eyes scanning the anguish in his own. “Bubba? What’s wrong?”

It took a moment for him to answer, his eyes growing sadder with every second that passed. “It was Bucky.”

“What?” You felt like the air was knocked out of you. “What do you mean?”

“The Winter Soldier. The assassin who shot Fury. The one who tried killing us on the bridge. It was Bucky. It is Bucky. I saw him, Y/N. I saw his face. It’s him. He survived. When they experimented on him, it must’ve…God, I’m so…I didn’t even notice…I didn’t even check…I left him…” he shook his head, which fell to your shoulder. “Stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“No, no.” You shook your head quickly, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you twisted to kiss the hinge of his tense jaw. “It wasn’t your fault, Steve.” You mumbled softly, lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. He fell thousands of feet, Stevie. You wouldn’t have found him even if you did.”

HIs grip on your hips tightened. “But I didn’t even try.” His voice broke on that last word. “And how could I not notice something going on with him? There were two years between being experimented on and falling. How-?” Voice catching in his throat, he stopped talking to stop himself from crying. You knew he hated crying.

“You can’t do anything about past Bucky.” You reminded him gently. “But you can help him now.”

“He didn’t even remember me.”

“Then make him.”

********************

To say you were pissed was an understatement. “I’ve been doing undercover stuff for years! This is a piece of cake!”

Steve shook his head. “You’ll be more helpful with Hill. You know more about Project Insight than me, Sam, and Natasha.”

“Bullshit, Steven! You just don’t want-”

“Honey, please.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as he gave you those fucking puppy eyes, his dumb pink lips stuck in a pout. Letting out a rather aggressive puff of air, you looked away. “Fine. But I hate you.”

He beamed and nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Okay.” You glanced at the others. “You all ready?”

“Let’s get these sons of bitches.” Sam stated, making the final adjustments to the wings.

Natasha gave a smirk. “As long as you are.”

Turning back to Steve, you raised an eyebrow, waiting for the captain’s orders. He nodded. “Let’s head out.”

****************

“There’s a problem on the flight deck.” Hill informed you, looking at the alert. 

“Alright. I’ll-”

“Stay with Hill!”

You rolled your eyes at Steve’s voice through the comms. “Sorry, Cap. You’re breaking up.”

“I know I’m not, Y/N! I’m serious! Stay there!”

But you were already moving towards the flight deck. “I’m not gonna sit on my ass here, Rogers! Hill’s got it covered! I’m just gonna go check it out!”

“Honey-!”

“Bubba!”

The line went quiet and for a moment you thought you lost connection. “Please stay safe.”

You let out a sigh at his quiet pleads, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “That goes for you, too, Steve.”

By the time you got out there, most of the jets were in flames, pilots and crew members scattered around the deck. You scanned the wreckage, trying to find the source-

A gunshot made your head whip to the side. Found it. Or, more accurately, him.

He was standing on top of one of the jets, gun pointed down at the pilot that was sitting in it. Before he could slip in the cockpit, though, you took out your gun and fired at him. Even though you knew who he was, when he looked at you it made your blood run cold. It was confirmation - not that you didn’t trust Steve - but still. Seeing is believing. yet seeing the same eyes you’d seen sparkling up at you from pictures now staring you down, void of any emotion? It was hard to believe it was the same person.

“Oh shit. Bubs?”

“What?! What’s wrong?! Are you okay?!”

You took a couple steps back as the Winter Soldier, no. Bucky - Steve’s Bucky - strode towards you. “Uh…nothing, nothing. I just I, uh, found your Bucky.”

“Y/N, get outta there now! I told you to stay with Hill!”

“Fuck!” You dove out of the way as the assassin started shooting at you. “Now’s not the time for reprimanding, Steven!”

You tuned out his cursings so as to not get distracted when you became engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the fucking Winter Soldier.

“Hi.” You grunted, ducking under his arm and throwing a kick at him, faking it at the last second. Except, he’d already grabbed your ankle. But you did kick him with your other foot. But…he didn’t really move and it made you fall back, so…fail. You let out a grimace when the wind was knocked out of you, but you couldn’t lay there for long as he moved to slam his foot down. You rolled out of the way, swinging your legs up to hit him in the back of the knee. “Nice to finally meet you.”

He growled as Sam exclaimed, “are you seriously chatting with him?”

“It’s mostly one sided - dammit!” The both of you had gotten on your feet again, and you tried hooking your left knee around his left shoulder to tug him down, but he had slammed you against a jet, your leg stretched in a very uncomfortable position as your free foot stood on your toes. He had his metal arm - which no one had informed you about and you were kinda salty about it - against your throat, his other hand coming up in a fist.

Bouncing on your toes a bit, you finally lifted your free leg up to knee him in the side of his face, making you wince slightly at the stretch and the burn in your left thigh, which was the only thing besides his metallic limb holding you up against the jet.

He stumbled to the side, throwing you by the leg on his shoulder. You went sprawling against the pavement, a hiss leaving your lips at the serious roadburn you no doubt just got. Sitting up quickly, not wanting him to get the upper hand, you let out a breath seeing him swiftly moving into the cockpit of the jet he just had you pinned against.

“Guys…he’s…heading your way…just a…heads up. Also…thank you. It was nice…to fucking know…about the metal arm…beforehand. I’m just gonna…rest here for a minute…”

“You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”

“No, Cap. No, just…gonna be aching for a while. Ugh…” Begrudgingly, you got up to your feet. “I think I’m gonna…go back and chill with Maria.”

“Told you so.”

“Shut up, finish your job, and don’t die, Rogers! And next time, please, for the love of God, mention the metal arm!”

****************

****************

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All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @breadqueen95​ @marvelettesassemble​ @w-wolfhxrd​

[myelocin]

tomato sauce for hello, and mornings for i love you

synopsis: “you are the who, love is the what, and this is the why.”

genre: fluff | wc: 2,300+

characters: konoha akinori

this is why i need you | jesse ruben

a/n: HALLOW??? HALLOWWW?????? @gg9183 MY ANGEL MY LOVE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO U we will ignore the fact that i am late i meant to post this yst but my laptop updated and i didnt save a fat chunk of this LOL. (speech aside) i love you. konoha loves u. i’m in this corner of the world blowing a candle for u and cheering u on always. happy birthday my best girl <3

-

It’s a good day to love you today.

Konoha’s up by seven, then at the grocery store by seven forty-five. A quick breakfast in the car: just a bottle of orange juice and a bag of chips that he just knows you’ll scold him for.

Pick up the balloons after heading to the bakery, then finding a way to somehow sneak all of what he has prepared in the house before you wake up. He smiles, delighting in the thought of another year with you.

Three birthdays together, a little apartment situated close to the city, and a multitude of inside jokes that would piss off Bokuto on the days he feels excluded. You snicker with him when he whispers his commentary towards you in the theaters, and he’ll do the same when you critique how the popcorn tastes that day.

There’s a lot of unknowns that balance what keeps the joy afloat, he thinks. He doesn’t know what to say when calling the doctor for his yearly checkup, and he doesn’t know how to counter the what-if scenarios the two of you usually talk about.

Sitting in his car, he chuckles. The rush hour of the morning borders unforgivable today, and while he could have sat still in his car, grumbling about the inconvenience, he settles for huffing towards it instead—defining factors like that as one of the inevitables in life.

So he thinks of you.

He left the house a little before sunrise, with you still asleep in bed. On the left side, wrapped in 75% of the blankets, with the plush cradled in between your arms. Some days he regrets winning that for you. While you said the expression on the hamster’s face mirrors his when he’s coming home from a rough day at work, it’s also the same plush that’s usually sandwiched in-between the two of you every time he tries to hold you at night.

Some days it’s like that, but today, he’s thankful it’s there to keep you company while he’s out here.

He’s always heard about the things people do for love, and while in the beginning he was never one to believe in its influence, as he catches a glimpse of himself on the rearview mirror, he laughs. There’s at least ten paper bags from the grocery store—all of which are meant just for breakfast, and a box with the god-awful hot pink wrapping paper he couldn’t have changed at the very last minute.

It’ll have to make do, he supposes. Slip ups happen sometimes, and in love, perfection is only a far-fetched dream.

In youth, love is make believe. Love is the ice cream truck that passed by his street every afternoon, and the coins his mother would leave out on the kitchen table for him just enough to treat himself. Love is the stories and the idea that he’d find a hand to hold and squeeze tight, even if all the boys in class would roll their eyes and stay away from the cooties.

Love is good.

Then as it stays good, love becomes great.

He learns of that the second he turned twenty and met you on aisle three of the grocery store at 2 in the morning. Pyjama bottoms, hair in a bun, and you’re squinting at the labels—trying to decide whether to get chocolate or vanilla for the frosting.

He said his hello then, because love at that time was also the three second push that came into his life as a show of brevity.

Konoha eases off the brakes, letting the car roll for a good couple of meters before slowly coming into a stop again—the traffic still present.

With a sigh, he resorts to tapping on the steering wheel and reliving through the memories again. He had no game then, he realizes. He approached you with half of the pickup line he plucked from reddit jumbled up as he said it, and he had a tomato sauce stain on his shirt.

Now that he thinks about it, he looked a little sleazy.

But the world has its ways of redefining what it means to be perfect, he supposes. What happened after was you turned your head, two tubs of frosting on either of your hands, and a smile already cracking its way through the prior confusion on your face.

And shit, he remembers, that’s all it took for him to realize that perhaps this is what they mean about the great that comes with the redefinition of love.

From then, you became a fixture of his every day. Three years since tomato sauce stains and your icing dilemma, he still learns more and more about you, finding home and falling in love as the days go by.

So today is a good day to love you.

Your third birthday you’re celebrating with him, and he’s in his car crawling his way through the traffic with a jar of tomato sauce and two kinds of canned icing in the paperbags in the back seat just to commemorate the first hello.

Tapping his finger against the steering wheel, he smiles. There’s a comfort in knowing that you’re headed home. Back to you, back to love.

He hopes that god awful plush is keeping you warm, Konoha thinks with a smile. Then with a laugh, he steps his foot off the brakes again, the world letting what’s there flow as motion comes once more and eases him into the road that brings him closer to you.

-

An hour later, he’s trudging up the stairs.

To be fair, in the parking lot he did try to think of at least a speech to present to you. Perhaps the classic ‘I love you, babe. Happy birthday,’ followed by a suave look, a bouquet of flowers, and breakfast in bed. He smirks, knowing even though blunt sentimentality has never been you nor his’ style when it comes to communication, you always had a soft spot for the moments where he did remind you that his love will always have the intention to stay.

Staring infront of the door, all it takes to put himself together is a deep breath, an honest smile, and just like that, he’s good to go.

Cake in hand and the strings to the balloon pinched in between his fingers, he nudges the door open, trying to be quiet as he cranes his neck and listens for noise inside the house. Delighting in the silence, he makes his way in, careful so he doesn’t disturb the peace.

Mornings have always been easy with you.

You wake up around the same time as he does, and breakfast is always shared at a table for two. Easy conversation, sleepy smiles, and little chuckles sprinkled before the beginning of the day is kickstarted.

Konoha smiles. There’s a cake with a smiley face iced in the center and a bouquet with all your favorite blooms in tow. A whole lot of love is the product of the bits built one on top of the other from the everyday that remains his—though it’s as much as yours too.

There’s love found in home, three years shown within, and the subtle promise of a lifetime in the presence that stays.

“You know,” a voice jolts him. Konoha, wide eyed, turns towards the kitchen, quickly spotting you.

You’re sat in your usual spot by the window, a bowl of cereal in front of you, and his hoodie wrapped around your frame. You smirk at him, spoon in hand, eyes to him. “If you’re going to surprise me, you could have probably pulled it off if you didn’t have a whole concert in the shower.”

His tongue pokes his cheek, the red on his face displayed in full colors because of how bright the morning is. “Last night you said you were sleeping in, so I figured you’d be knocked the fuck out till 10 or something.”

“That was the plan,” you laugh, shifting your eyes back down to your breakfast and scooping up a bite.

You hear a huff, then when you turn to him, you smile again. Konoha’s standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the living room now. His Donald Duck house slippers on, and his socks aren’t even matching. On top of the paper bags on the table, he’s still trying his hand at balancing the cake, bouquet, and strings from the balloon in his hand.

He’s looking at anywhere but towards you.

Laughing softly under your breath, you throw him a lifeline. “Want me to turn around and have you clean up your entrance so that I can pretend to be surprised when you say happy birthday?”

When you look back up, he’s already made it halfway across the living room, just now stepping into the kitchen to plop down on the seat in front of you. Puffing his cheeks, he sets the boxes down on the clear end of the table and leans forward. Meeting him halfway, you smile as he presses a quick kiss on your temple.

In laughter, he eases into love. “Happy birthday,” he smiles.

Smiling along with him, you hold out the spoonful you meant to give to yourself in offering towards him. “Morning.”

Even though he’s a little disappointed he couldn’t pull off the surprise, the smile on his face is still cheeky when he faces you. Mornings are easy, he thinks again, because love is.

“I can still cook for you,” he offers, taking the fork from your hand and reaching in the bowl to pick at the bits of fruit instead of the actual cereal.

You quirk a brow in his direction. “By that do you mean you’ll just plate the takeout you got and hide the boxes so you can tell me you cooked for me?”

“Will that impress you?” Konoha laughs, the smile on his face easy.

“Depends,” you shrug. “What kinda takeout did you get?” Peering into the boxes he tries to shield with his body, he eventually moves away with a laugh when you swat him on the shoulder and poke him to the side. “Was anything even open this early?”

He points the fork with the slice of strawberry in your direction, his face smug. “I ordered in advance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lean forward and take a bite, laughing when he gives you a look for biting the piece you don’t doubt he’s been eyeing for a while now.

You snort, recalling the memory of him hunched over the desk the other night, shooing you away everytime you’d enter the room. “Tell me you didn’t bother that poor auntie at 11 in the evening just for this?”

He looks away, eyes closed. “I’m a resourceful man.”

“She’s in her sixties and 11 is probably three hours past her bedtime!” you laugh.

Konoha looks at you anyway, smiling. “But are you happy I got you your pastries?”

Eyeing the box, it doesn’t take much for love to resettle into peace again, your joy quickly mirroring his. “You drove all the way there for me?”

“Always for you,” he responds, like it’s the most obvious thing.

You reach forward and pinch his cheek, finding love in the silly bits of him too. “But you always complain about how annoying it is to drive this early in the morning. I know rush hour’s a bitch,” you try to reason.

He shakes his head. “I know. But it’s your day.”

“You drove there last week too when I was craving,” you mutter. Konoha crosses his arms one over the other, and leans his head against it down on the table. Looking through his lashes and up at you, he beams. “That’s because I love you.”

Poking through a bigger piece of fruit from your bowl, you bring the fork towards him, until it’s just barely poking at his lips. “You know, you’re really sweet when you’re decided.”

Accepting the strawberry, Konoha suppresses a chuckle. “I’m always decided when it comes to you, what do you mean?”

Shrugging, you sift through the contents of your bowl, looking for more slices of fruit. You’ll add more next time, you note in the back of your mind. He smiled more when he ate the strawberries instead of the initial blueberry.

“I also got tomato sauce and icing,” he admits, tilting his head to the paper bags still on the coffee table in the living room. “To commemorate hello.”

“So you’re a poet now, I see,” you tease.

“I can be a lot of things in this life.”

You tilt your head. “Like?”

“I’ll tell you once I think about more things that impress you the most.”

You smile. “Just be Akinori.”

He smiles again, love written along the peace in his expression. “Deal.”

“It’s nice to be loved,” you tell him, eyeing the bouquet with the blooms and the cake with the smiley face peeking through the window of the box.

“Because I love you, that’s why,” he replies.

Morning is easy.

A table for two, light conversation, and a history lived and loved even though silence tends to resettle in the room from time to time. Memory relished through love and the flow of the day nurturing enough for him to delight in the moment and feel at ease because this is the kind of love that’s meant to stay kind for a lifetime.

“Happy birthday,” he smiles, and when you look at him, he thanks his lucky stars for that three second rush of brevity that pushed him to begin love with a hello.

 -

ily always <3

[pascalscenarios]

THE ONE (Frankie Morales x Reader)

THE ONE

Frankie Morales x Reader  

Summary: After the ordeal with Frankie, You spend your time alone. In the mean time, Lilah plans on talking to you. 

Warning: Mild Swearing

Words: 2,909

Authors Note: Hello! I hope you all are well! This chapter has me in my feels... I’m debating how long I should make this fic... I think I’m going up to 10, but we’ll see... Enjoy  :) - K 

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 5.5 | CH 6 |

Chapter 6

You were locked up in your bedroom. You didn’t dare to come out and face Alex. They were sweet, giving you space for a couple of hours to deal with your feelings after the whole Frankie ordeal. You were curled up in your bed, your eyes puffy from balling your eyes out. You staring out the window watching the rainfall.

He told you he loved you. Frankie told you he loved you. You knew he loved you, but after all these years he still wanted to be with you? He had a whole decade to make things right with you, but he decided to swoop in last minute a week before your wedding to fuck things.

He also had no right to tell you how to feel about him. How did you feel?

You heard a knock on the door.

“Babe?” Alex says softly opening the door. They watch you lie there on the bed.

They walk over sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered.

“Hun, you have nothing to be sorry about.” They rub your back comforting you.

You turn to face Alex, sitting up in bed, resting your back against the wall. You pulled the blanket up more, grabbing a pillow to clutch in your arms.

“I know you have a lot of questions.” your voice trembled.

Alex stays silent waiting for you to talk.

“When I went out with the girls clubbing, I got lost, I thought I called you, but I accidentally called Frankie. He came picked up, I crashed at his place, nothing happened, but I was hanging out with him today”

Alex looked relieved.

“But I haven’t been completely honest with you about Frankie…” You couldn’t look Alex in the eyes.  

“The day we went cake testing, I told you Frankie was an old friend...he is an old friend. I’ve known him since I was a kid, but at one point we used to date...he’s my ex-boyfriend.” You confessed.

You kept spilling everything.

“I’ve never talked about him with you because I didn’t think I would need to. I didn’t think I would ever see him again. I found out why he left me, he has a daughter. I’m not mad at him at that, not one bit, but it just hurts that he didn’t tell me... and then he told me he still loved me. I know I shouldn’t care, because I’m not with him- I’m with you, but part of me does care-”

You scrunch your face, your lips trembling as you try to stop yourself from shedding tears, but they still manage to fall.

“Ever since he came back- I don’t know how I’m feeling and its suffocating, I’m so confused my head is just-”

“I think I should go,” Alex says.

“W-what?” Your eyes widen

“I think we need time apart” Your chest heaved as you heard them say that. Everything was crashing down on you. You bared your feelings and now he wants to leave you? The feeling you were getting felt exactly like the night Frankie left you.

“B-but the wedding is next week-”

“I know…” They move closer to the bed, grabbing a hold of your hands.

“I think you and I need to think things over alone. We need a couple of days to wrap our head around things, figure out what we want-”

“But I want you…Please don’t go, I’m sorry- ” You cried.

“Don’t be sorry. Look, it’ll only be a couple of days...After we thought about things, well come back and talk about us. We’ll figure things out, I promise, but right now, we need to think about if this is truly what we want, what you want.”

“Alex…”

“No matter what, I love you” They kiss you on the forehead, then leave the bedroom.

…

“My uncle Santiago who told me everything Rehma! The photos of the person in the shoebox was my dad’s childhood sweetheart. They’re Uncle Santi’s cousin. They called them Smiles” Lilah was laying on her bed, staring at a photo of you, Frankie.

“That’s crazy! What happened between them?” Rehma, Lilah’s best friend, was over their phone call.

“Me…” Lilah signs placing the photo down, rolling on to her back.

“What, what do you mean you?”

“You know how I didn’t meet my dad until I was five...Well, he was with Smiles at the time.”

“Right, your mom didn’t tell him about you…”

“...Because he was with Smiles…”

“What? That’s why your mom didn’t tell him?”

“I mean I guess, my parents weren’t serious. They didn’t last long, they thought it was best to remain friends. Obviously, my mom should have told my Dad about me, but I don’t think she wanted to ruin what he and smiles had, but ultimately he was the one that ended up doing that.”

“What do you mean?

“He left smiles and went after me… for a whole decade they had no idea about me.”

“What a mess!” Rehma gasped.

“Tell me about it! but I just feel bad he left Smiles in the dust like that. This is the love of his life!”

“What about you? How are you feeling about all this?” Rehma asked.  

“I have him. He’s forever in my life now. He loves me, I do not doubt that ever. He’s always put me and my needs first, I mean obviously, he’s a dad, that's the job, but it’s time he puts himself first. I’m fifteen, I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m growing older, being more independent…I’ve never seen him be with anyone since the day he brought me home. I just want him to be happy you know.”

“Wow, that's-”

“That's why I'm going to talk to Smiles!” Lilah sits up in bed.

“Are you crazy?! What are you gonna do, pull a parent trap???”

“Some things like that…'' Lilah grabs the photo of you and Frankie, pulling out the shoebox that was hidden underneath your bed.

“I mean I think it’s cute you wanna set your dad up again with his childhood sweetheart, but what if this goes wrong?”

“Act now, think later, fuck it right?!” Lilah squeezes the phone between her shoulder and cheek, as she grabs her backpack, stuffing the boxes in.

“Moon!” Frankie shouted from the hallway.

“I gotta go!”

“Text me how it goes! If you need backup, call me!”

“Okay bye!”

“Moon?” Lilah quickly slips up the bag and hangs up the phone.

Frankie walks into Lilah’s room, finding her on the floor with her bag.

“Yeah, Dad?” She smiles.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing..” She stands up, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” He asks to lean against the doorframe.

“Is it okay if I go to Rehma’s? We have homework and a project to do…” Lilah lied.

“You just go home from school…”

“I know, but she's freaking out about everything. Mrs. Pike is kicking our ass lately with everything.

“Yeah, just be home before-”

“Thanks, dad!” Lilah quickly walks up to Frankie kissing him on the cheek and bolts out the door.

“-Sunset!”

“Got it! Bye love you!” She called out. Lilah was standing outside her house. She pulls out her phone, looking in her notes for your address she took down in her notes.

“Alright, Smiles… Where do you live?”

...

You spent Valentine's day alone, curled up on the couch, a pile of junk food around you, watching your favorite romantic comedies. You were doing the same thing three days later. You were wearing pajamas, your hair disheveled, your eyes still puffy from crying. It has been a terrible week so far.

You avoid thinking about everything, just wanting to take time to do absolutely nothing and veg out.

You were eating ice cream from the carton when you heard your doorbell ring. You didn’t bother to get up and answer it. You just wanted to be left alone. The ringing became persistent. You groaned, setting the carton down on the couch and getting up to answer the door.

You open the door to find a letter on the ground with your name on it. You pick up the letter opening it.

Frontier Park @ 5:00 pm

You look up, scanning the neighborhood, there was no one around. Who could this be from? Alex? Maybe Santiago...Frankie?

You went back inside your house, checking the time. It was 3:45, almost noon. You looked at our messy living room. Maybe you should get out. You’ve been cooped up in the house for too long. You needed some fresh air and gained back a clear and unclouded mind.

…

You got changed and headed to the park. It was a nice day, with a slight cool breeze. You sat on the bench and overlooked the pond. You sat there admiring the beautiful flowers and the cute ducks that swam on the pond.

From the corner of your eye, you see someone walking towards you. It was a young girl. As she gets closer to you, you realize who she was. You stand up as she approaches you.

“H-hi…” she stutters, stopping in front of you. “I’m-”

“Lilah” you gasp. You couldn't help but smile. She looked just like Frankie. You couldn’t believe she was standing in front of you.

You extend your hand out, introducing yourself. You both sat down on the bench.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting you right now…” Lilah says in a bit of shock.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting you either...I’m guessing you’re the one who left the letter at my doorstep. Are you alright? Did something happen? Is Frankie okay?” You were concerned for her, Frankie even. You had no idea why you were meeting her, but if she needed anything, you were willing to help her.

Lilah smiled. You were just like Santiago in her eyes. You were concerned and caring just like him. “Yes, I am. Everythings fine, I’m fine...Dad’s... Sorta okay I guess…” she says awkwardly.

“I’m sorry ambush you like this-”

“No! It’s alright... I - Just- How did you find me? How do you even know who I am?” Had Frankie told her about you?

“Uncle Santiago…”

“Of course” you rolled your eyes, chuckling.

“I went to Uncle Santi’s house, he answered questions I had…I found your address in the junk drawer in his kitchen...I wanted to talk to you about you and my dad... Uncle Santiago to me everything…”

You stiffen. Why the hell would your cousin air out all your dirty laundry with Frankie out on his Daughter?

“My dad has an old Shoebox filled with old photos of the two of you hidden in the back of the hallway closet.” She pulled the shoebox out of her bag, handing it to you.

You take the lid off staring down at a stack of photos.

“I would catch him staring at them from time to time. I used to look through these photos without him knowing. I always wondered who you were. I knew you must have been someone important to him. My best was that you two dated, Uncle Santi, confirmed that, but I found Dad bringing it back out for the first time in a long time, about a month ago. He’s been different lately. He’s sad. He tries to hide it from me, acting like he’s fine, but I can see right through him.”

You shuffle through the photos, a sad smile on your face at the memories they brought back to you.

“I just wanted to apologize, I know what happened between you and my dad… I know I’m the cause-”

“No no no.” You shake your head, setting the photos down in the box between you, placing your hand on her back.

“Lilah, that wasn’t your fault. What happened between Frankie and I is between us. Your Dad needed to go after you, and I don’t blame him one bit for doing that, that would be selfish of me.”

“I wish he would have told you about me. I think it’s terrible that he left without saying anything. And all those years without knowing-”

“I wish he would have told me too, but what’s most important is that he has you. You’re all he needs”

“Yeah he does have me, but what he needs is you. You’re his missing piece to his puzzle. He could never love someone as much as he loves you and me.”

“Lilah…” You turn away from her, tears starting to form in your eyes at what she said.

“Look, I know you’re getting married a-and I know my dad hurt you, but I think you should be with him. You’re the love of his life...You’re the one that got aw-”

“Lilah!” You hear a man shout.

You see Frankie walking towards you both.

“Oh, shit” Lilah murmurs quickly standing, grabbing the shoe box, she had no time to hide away in her bag as well as you.

“Lilah!” He was angry. You quickly stand up

“Dad!-”

“Lilah what-” He stops talking, taken back by you standing beside his daughter.

“Smiles?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you confused. He turns his focus back on his daughter.

“Lilah, what the HELL are you doing?!”

“Dad, I-”

“You lied to me about where you were going?! You left your books at the house, I went over to Rehma’s, only for her parents to tell me you weren’t over there!”

“Dammit, I forgot to tell her the plan..” Lilah mumbled, closing her eyes.

“Lilah, what are you even doing?! And why are you here with my daughter?” He pointed at you. His eyes catch the box “Where did you get that?” he looks up at Lilah

“The hallways closet…I-I know about you and smiles…”

His chest heaves. “What is this?” He turns his attention towards you, staring at you tensely. “You are trying to get back at me for all the shit I did?! You really gotta drag my kid into this?!” he yelled.

“Frankie-” you tried to explain, but he wouldn’t let you speak

“I know I fuck up, but this is low! You don’t go meeting up with my kid and talk about our business! Why would you even-”

“I’m the one that asked them to meet me here!” Lilah spoke up.

“Lilah, how do you even know-”

“Uncle Santiago told me. He told me everything. Valentine's day when I told you I was a Rehma, I was at Uncle Santi’s house. I’ve known about the shoebox for years, Dad…”

He scoffs. “Of course he fucking did...Why are you here with smiles?”

“...I was…” Lilah looks down at the ground.

“You were what, Lilah?”

She sighed. “..I was trying to get them to take you back…”

“Oh god…” Frankie groans, rubbing his face.

“Dad, I’m-”

“Lilah! You can’t be serious right now!!!” he began to yell again.

“Dad, you're sad! I can see past the fake smiles and the facade you put up! I’ve seen the way you look at those photos! I thought I could-”

“You have absolutely NO right doing what you did!!! Lying to me, going behind my back, and getting involved in things you don’t understand and that are none of your business!!! You need to apologize to Smiles right now.”

Lilah turns to face you. “I’m sorry…” She whispers, you see the tears forming in her eyes.

“Go wait for me in the truck-”

“Dad-” she croaks.

“I said go wait in the truck. We’ll finish this conversation at home.” He says strictly.

Lilah listened to her father, quickly walking in the direction of the parking lot.

Frankie felt embarrassed and humiliated. He was angry with his daughter that she would put him in a situation like this.

“Frankie-”

“Don’t, Smiles...Just don’t.” He played his hands on his hips, his head hung low. He turns around, his back towards you. He stares off at the forest a few yards away.

“She meant well, Frankie…”

“Yeah, but nothing she does or planned on is going to change anything…” he chuckles.

“You’re still going to get married.” He turned to face you. He was crying.

It was the first time in a long while since you saw him cry. He bottled up his feelings, but he finally found his breaking point.

“I thought it was gonna be us you know. You were it for me. You were the one, but I fucked things up. I fucked things up so bad.” He cried, his eyes growing red. “I should have told you about Lilah. I should have never left you like that, the way that I did. I’ve regretted it every day. We’d probably still be together. A-and now you’re about to get hitched to someone that isn’t me in a couple of days.That should me! I should be the one waiting to see you walk down that aisle, that should be me you’re walking towards, not Alex…”

You hadn’t realized you were crying.

“I’m gonna have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

“Frankie..” you breathed. He walked up towards you, grabbing your side of your face, passionately kissing you. The kiss was desperate, he pulled you closer to him. He needed to kiss you one last time. You both pull away breathless, but he sneaks a few more short kisses before you both rest your foreheads against each other.

“I love you so much, Smiles... I’m sorry for everything.” With that, he pulls away from your grasp, walking away.

He leaves you standing alone.

Tags // @icanbeyourjedi  @im-an-adult-ish  @sara-alonso @lydiascottage @eternalkara​

[vintagedolan]

dark

warning: this fic/blurb is, as the title suggests, dark. it’s supposed to be unsettling, but I can’t really give warnings without spoiling the whole thing. if that’s not your thing (think like, criminal minds, crime show type stuff), please please please skip this one! i love you!

word count: 4.9k

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Grayson pulled you closer to him in the dark, uneasy and confused. 

And then, it clicked.

“Why do you have pants on?” He whined, hand moving over the running shorts you’d left on before you climbed into bed. It was true that you usually just slept in panties, but you hadn’t thought much about it, too excited to get into bed and get cozy after your shower. 

“I was cold, didn’t wanna take em off,” you explained, putting your phone on do not disturb and sitting it on the little bedside table that Gray had built for you. You rolled over into his arms, his left hand sliding down over your ass.

“I can warm you up,” he mumbled, using his grip to press your entire body up against his, pulling you over so you were almost laying entirely on top of him. It was true - he was always warm, tanned skin radiating a heat that could cure your cold fingers when you reached out for him in the middle of the night. He’d let you do it every time, even if they felt like ice cubes and made him flinch.

His hand moved again, up over your ass to your back, and then his finger dipped under the band of your shorts, seeking out more skin. He grumbled a bit when the fabric tightened against his hands the further he reached over you.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re too tight,” he pouted. “My hands don’t fit.”

“Maybe your hands are just too big.” 

“Maybe you’ve just got too much cake.” 

You planted a hand on his chest, sitting up and giving him the most incredulous look your tired eyes could muster. He stuck his bottom lip out at you, tired eyes pleading. 

“Take em off.”

“Considering you actually just used the word cake to refer to my ass in a sentence? Access denied,” you teased, ducking back down to curl up against him and closing your eyes. His chest rose with a sigh.

“Can I at least have a kiss?”

You smiled but stayed still just to see what he would do. He waited for a moment, and then you felt him shift underneath you.

“Hey. Hey you. I know you aren’t asleep yet.” He poked at your side and you held it together until he actually started tickling. When you broke you giggled against him, lifting your head up and pressing your lips to his. He hummed against you, lips chasing yours for a moment as you shifted and got closer to him. He squeezed your ass as best he could, pulling back a tiny bit.

“Hits different when you’re in underwear.” He answered your unasked question with a shrug, and even with just the moonlight coming through the blinds you knew he saw your eyes roll. 

“I’ll just be over here-” you tried to roll away, but his hand caught the back of your head before you got far.

“Ah ah, don’t think so. You know I’m kidding.” He kissed you again before you could protest, not that you were going to. It felt too good to be in his arms for you to ever complain, and you melted into him, safe and content. You kissed lazily for a while, little mumbles of “missed you today” and “love you” the only things causing your lips to leave each others. Eventually, with a few last minute stolen kisses and a few more pressed to your forehead, you settled in.

The two of you fell asleep the same way every night, ever since the first time you’d found yourself staying over; him on his back, arm wrapped around your shoulders, lips on your forehead, you cuddled up against his side, leg over his waist. You’d drift as you slept, sometimes waking up to get back into each other’s arms. But no matter how far away you got, you were always touching somehow. Sometimes it was just your hands, sometimes one leg tangled with yours.

But when you woke up that night, it was his arm, thrown over your waist, heavy and warm. 

You blinked a few times, trying to get your bearings in the dark, reaching over for your phone. 

3:12 in the morning. 

You huffed out an annoyed breath, unsure of why your body had woken you up. Grayson stirred a bit, sensing you moving in his sleep. You reached over, playing with his hair to keep him soothed. 

Mouth dry, you waited until he started snoring again to coax his arm off of you and get out of bed. Any other night you probably would have just rolled back over, tucked yourself under Grayson’s arm and tried to go straight back to sleep. But you were so thirsty, you knew that you didn’t have a hope of getting back to sleep without at least a glass of water. 

So you headed out of the room as quietly as you could, making sure the door didn’t squeak.

You were glad that the construction was over and you were back in the house - it was easier to navigate in the dark. Still, you let your fingers run along the wall so you made sure that you weren’t going to run into anything as you made your way through the house.

The kitchen was better lit than the hallway most nights, simply because of the security lights outside that lit up the backyard. 

That was the first sign that you should have noticed. 

But you weren’t awake enough to notice, to realize that you shouldn’t have had to reach over and flick the light switch to get to the cabinet.

You should have just stayed in bed.

For a split second, you thought maybe it was Ethan, up late, unable to sleep.

You were wrong.

The man was standing by the bookshelf that Grayson had made when the lights flooded the room. He had a bag with him, a large backpack that matched his black hoodie. He turned to you, eyes wide as he realized you were there.

It all happened very quickly after that.

You must have screamed, but you didn’t hear it. Still, you knew you must of, or he wouldn’t have run towards you instead of out the door. Before you could move he was right in front of you, breath hot and horrendous in your face as he grabbed you and covered your mouth with his hand.

“Where do they keep their watches?”

You’d seen enough crime shows, binged through episodes of criminal minds, seen so many ‘un-subs’ that surely, surely you knew what to do. But there, staring one in the face? Your mind went blank, blind panic taking over as you realized that this was real, this could be it.

Your first instinct was to tell him, tell him exactly where the watches were in Grayson’s closet, the second drawer down on the right. That’s what you’d always been taught. Give them what they want and get the hell out of there. 

But then you thought about Grayson, Grayson in his room, entirely unaware of what was going on. The love of your life, vulnerable in his white sheets, sleeping peacefully like you’d left him just moments ago. There was no way in hell that you were going to put him in danger. You’d rather die.

“I said where do they keep their watches?” He repeated, his hold on your arm tightening as he pulled his hand back just enough for you to talk.

“Fuck you,” you spat, trying to wrestle yourself out of his grip. He was stronger than he looked, and the effort was futile. 

“Hey!” wasn’t what you were expecting to hear, but he could have said anything and the same relief would have washed over you. It was unmistakeable, and close. 

Grayson was awake.

You turned to look at him, beg for him to help you but you were yanked suddenly, spun around. His hold changed, moved from your arm to around your shoulders, across your chest. And then you realized why he’d pulled you over to the other end of the kitchen, what he was reaching for.

The knife block. 

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her right now,” the man threatened, and between the new feeling of cold metal against your neck and the panic in Grayson’s eyes you knew you both had to take him at his word.

“Okay, okay, no one’s coming closer. Just don’t hurt her, please don’t hurt her.” He was begging like you’d never heard him before, a raw fear in his voice that broke you at your deepest level. 

You thought about moving, trying to fight him off somehow. Grayson could take him down no problem if you got out of the way, that much was obvious. But the knife complicated things - you knew how sharp they were just based off of Ethan’s stitches. 

Oh god. Ethan. You felt a pang of guilt that you hadn’t thought about him yet, and you prayed his deep sleeping wasn’t too deep tonight.

Somehow, it seemed that Grayson was on the same wavelength. You’d been keeping your eyes on him the whole time, but you missed when they flickered to the hallway behind you. Little did you know, Ethan had woken up to the voices, come out quietly, seen everything. Now all Grayson had to do was stall until his brother could get the security from the end of the driveway to the house. 

“Get your watches. I want your watches, and I know which ones you have. Don’t bring me the cheap shit.” The man spoke up again, voice demanding.

“You can have whatever you want, but I’m not getting anything if you don’t let her go.” Grayson’s feet were set, his voice stern. 

“Get the watches. I’m the one with the knife here, and you won’t be the one paying if you don’t do what I fucking say.” 

“You hurt her and I’ll fucking kill you.” Grayson’s negotiating facade cracked for a moment, eyes burning in anger. He took one step forward, unable to stop himself. 

Your neck was wet. 

For a minute you thought you were crying, but you felt the sting, realized what had happened. The blood trickled down from where the man had pushed the tip of the blade in just enough to break skin.

“Back. Up.” He snarled.

You panicked, starting to writhe, desperate to get away from him. The knife cut in a bit further and you gasped at the pain.

“Baby don’t! Stop, stop don’t,” Grayson panicked, holding his hands up and taking a step back, eyes never leaving yours. “Okay, okay you win, I’ll get the watches, I’ll get them!”

“Grayson don’t.” Don’t leave me please don’t leave me.

“Shut up.” The knife moved again and you fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut - if anything was going to happen, you wanted Grayson to be the last thing you saw.

I love you you mouthed to him, feeling the blade move against your skin as you spoke. 

The sound of the door busting open was enough to make all three of you jump. 

“HANDS! LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!” 

Suddenly the kitchen was very crowded - Ethan was there with the two security guards that worked nights for the boys - James, and Deandre, all of their eyes wide, bodies tense. You felt small surrounded by so many tall men - intimidated instead of relieved. 

“Drop the knife and show me your hands. NOW.” Deandre demanded, gun drawn and pointed.

The man hesitated, cursed under his breath. It felt like an eternity before the knife clattered to the floor, too loud against the wood. It left a scratch there that you’d find three months later. 

His arms released, rising up above his head in surrender. Immediately, another set of hands was on you, strong and firm and warm. Grayson pulled you harder than he ever had, moved you so fast you could barely register what was happening until he had you pressed up against his back. He’d put himself in front of you, standing tall and strong. You took in your first deep breath as you clung to the back of his shirt, your adrenaline pumping, heartbeat in your ears as James pulled the mans hands behind his back into makeshift handcuffs and led him outside. 

As soon as he was out of eye sight Grayson spun, arms wrapping around you.

“Oh god. Oh god, I’m so sorry angel I’m so sorry, I love you so much.” The words barely registered to your ears he said them so fast, hot tears falling against your skin as he pressed himself to you. 

“Ouch.” 

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he’d pressed up against your cut on your throat, causing it to sting. The pain was the only thing you could process, your mind foggy. 

Grayson pulled back, unwilling to let go of you entirely but far enough for you to see the sadness in his eyes. “Ethan, go get something for her neck, just grab whatever we have.”

“The cops are outside, maybe we should wait-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the cops bro, just get me some damn gauze or something. Please.” 

You watched Ethan walk away, or at least, you tried to - he was blurry, his form swaying around in your vision. Your heart was beating too loud, your head felt funny. You reached up to your neck, hand coming away wet and cold with blood.

“I think I’m - I don’t feel so good.”

Next thing you knew, there was something hard against your back, and too many voices.

“Y/N? Y/N can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me.” It was a different voice, not the one you wanted to hear.

“Gr-Grayson.” You croaked it out.

“I’m right here baby, I’m here.” You forced your eyes open, searching for where his voice was coming from - he sounded too sad, and your fingers twitched, anxious to find him, to comfort him. When you blinked enough to actually see, there were three faces above you, contrasted against the lights and the white of the ceiling. Ethan, Grayson and another face, all three with the same look of concern painted across them hovered over you as you realized where you were. The kitchen floor.

“What happened?” 

“You passed out on us,” Ethan answered, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“Oh. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s your bodies defense mechanism. Too much going on at once,” the third face said. You looked down, saw the patch on his shirt. Paramedic.

“It’s not cause of the blood? She didn’t lose too much?” Grayson spoke up then, and your eyes went back to him, frowning.

“No, the cut on her neck is superficial. Neck wounds just bleed a lot initially but it’s already stopped. We’ll get you bandaged up, get you some water and you should be good as new!” 

Good as new. You weren’t sure how you were ever going to be good again, especially when you saw the look on Grayson’s face. He was as easy to read as your favorite novel - angry, livid actually, unable to process anything other than the rage you knew was building up inside him the longer he sat there. 

“Can I sit up?” 

“Yeah, just stay sitting for a bit and we’ll take it in stages okay? Fellas, can one of you get some water for her?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Ethan patted your knee before he got up from where he was crouching, heading to the fridge. You started to sit up, body still unsteady. The paramedic helped you, moved you slightly to position you against the cabinets.

“The police are gonna need pictures of your neck, for evidence. I need to take them before we bandage you up.” 

He wasn’t asking. 

You felt sick to your stomach as you nodded, turning your head slightly to the side to expose your neck as he fumbled for his camera. 

The only thing that kept you from crying right then and there was Ethan coming back down onto the floor and pressing the cup of water into your hands. 

“Drink it bup, you’ll feel better.” You waited until the paramedic was done to bring the cup to your lips. The water was cold, nice against your dry throat, the whole reason you’d even gotten involved in the nightmare in the first place. You gulped it down, passing the glass back to E.

“More?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” Your voice felt robotic, unattached as you kept your eyes on Grayson as the paramedic wiped your neck off and put a bandage on that felt large and sticky with antiseptic. You didn’t care- you were just waiting for what you knew was about to happen.

All it took was James reappearing in the room for him to explode.

“What the fuck happened! You realize how much we pay you two fucks, and somebody got past you, and inside the fucking house. Explain yourselves. Now.” His voice was booming as he passed you, headed straight for James, hands in fists.

“Gray, gray easy, easy,” Ethan cautioned, rising quickly to cut his brother off, getting chest to chest as he continued to yell over his shoulder.

“You see her? You see her right? You let that happen you useless fucking idiots-”

“Grayson. Stop.” 

Something about the tone of Ethan’s voice pulled him out of it just enough for him to stop seeing red, to speak at a normal volume.

“I wanna know what the fuck happened. How the fuck he got in.”

“So do I. But I’ll handle it, okay? You’ve got other things to focus on right now. More important things. Take care of her, I’ll handle it.” 

I’m right here, you wanted to say, but instead you grabbed onto the counter above you, pulled yourself up to your feet. The paramedic stayed close until you got your bearings, offering you a small smile of encouragement. 

Grayson turned then, looked, really saw you for the first time since you’d passed out. The guilt was so blatant on his face that you knew he would be crying if he wasn’t trying to keep it together for you. 

He turned away from Ethan, walked towards you slowly, not wanting to startle you.

“I-I-” you tried to find words, but your brain was still fuzzy. 

“It’s okay baby. Just tell me what you need. Tell me what to do to make it better.” 

You looked around, past him, watched the cops unpacking the backpack onto the coffee table - the play button, a few vinyls. 

“I need to get out of here. I don’t wanna be here right now.” You were proud of yourself for getting cohesive sentences out, even if they did make Grayson’s face drop. 

“Okay. We’ll go, we’ll go right now. E, can you call Nick and ask if we can stay? He’s closest.” 

Ethan nodded, immediately pulling out his phone.

“Let’s get you a new shirt.” Grayson wrapped his arm around your waist, led you out of the kitchen and back towards his room. His hold was so firm that he practically sat you down on the bed, only leaving you so he could go get you something to change into.

You didn’t realize until he moved that he’d sat you directly in front of the mirror. Bad move.

You didn’t look like yourself. Your eyes were too wide, still frazzled. Shoulder too stiff, muscles all tense. But all that was commonplace when you saw the blood. It was a darker red than you expected, soaked into Grayson’s WZRD shirt that you’d slept in. Some of it had even gotten on your shorts. The cut was bandaged, but you still brought a hand up to it, gently running your fingers over where you could feel it was. 

Grayson interrupted your gaze, moving in front of you and crouching down so you didn’t have to look up, like he might do with a child. You didn’t mind - it was nice to feel bigger, more powerful. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not really. Just feels weird.” 

“Do you want a t-shirt or a hoodie? I grabbed both.”

“Hoodie.” You didn’t care if it was 80 degrees outside - you felt comfortable in them, felt less exposed. Safer. 

He didn’t question it, just reached forward for the hem of your, his, ruined shirt, pulling it as gently as he could over your head.

It got worse. You hadn’t thought about the fact that the paramedic had wiped your neck off. Your chest, your skin that had been hidden underneath the fabric was stained an angry red, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. You barely recognized yourself.

Grayson followed your eyes, seeing what you saw, immediately moving to block your view of your reflection.

“Hey, shh shh, it’s okay. I’ll get you cleaned up, it’s okay. I’m gonna get a washcloth.” He stood up, went to move away from you and the panic that rose in your throat made you feel like you were choking. As quickly as you could you shot a hand out, caught his arm, held on as he turned back to you.

“Please don’t leave me by myself.” It came out as a whimper, involuntary, weak. But you didn’t care. The thought of being alone was too much to handle, even if he was just behind the bathroom door. 

“I won’t baby, I promise. You wanna come with me?” 

You nodded, keeping your hold on his arm. It felt nice, like an anchor, reminding you that Grayson was there and if Grayson was there you were safe. So you held on while he got the washcloth, wet it in the sink, cleaned you off. When he pulled his cudi hoodie over your head you got your arms through as quickly as you could, reaching back out for him. He held your hand while he moved around the room, packing an overnight bag for the two fo you. It helped you to keep breathing steadily, even when he led you out the bedroom door, past the kitchen counter - he was careful to block your view of the blood on the floor. When you got to the door, Ethan was there, brows furrowed as he watched the cops mull around outside, checking to see how the security system had been breached.

He paused, looking at you, lips moving as he tried to start talking, hesitating, stumbling over his words. 

You let go of Grayson for a moment, closing the distance and wrapping your arms around E.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into his chest, glad to feel him there and whole and unharmed. 

He squeezed you against him, resting his cheek on top of your head. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Try to get some rest, don’t worry about anything here okay? Either of you,” he looked up at Grayson, letting you go. “Take the tesla, the porsche is blocked in.” He passed his brother the keys, giving him one of those twin looks that you couldn’t read. Grayson nodded, wrapping an arm around you again.

“I don’t know if he’s still out there. Just - just don’t look, okay?”

You did as he said, burying your face in his chest before he opened the door. He practically carried you to the car, guiding each step you took until you got to the door, climbing in. He ran around the side to get in the driver’s seat, immediately reaching back over for you once he got back in. 

You felt lighter as soon as the car cleared the gates, and you curled up against Grayson as best you could, wrapping both arms around his right one, resting your cheek on his bicep, careful not to press on your neck. The last thing you wanted was for it to start bleeding even more. 

The drive to Nick’s went faster without the usual traffic - you were there in less than ten minutes, walking up to his apartment door. He answered almost immediately. 

“C’mon in guys,” he stepped aside, letting you and Grayson pass. “I grabbed some extra blankets and pillows for the bed. It’s a twin, I haven’t had a chance to get anything bigger yet, and I can get you anything else you guys need, like chargers or-”

“Thank you Nick. It means a lot, truly. We just need to get some sleep is all,” Grayson cut him off gently, practically holding you up against his side with how tight he had you pressed to him. 

“Yeah right, of course. Well if you need anything, you know where I’ll be. Glad you guys are okay.” 

“Thanks man.” 

Grayson led you to the right, into a small room that was definitely meant to be an office and not a bedroom. The twin bed was pressed up against the far corner, the extra pillows and blankets stacked up at the end. Grayson dropped the bag by the wall, moved towards the bed and started to arrange it with his free hand.

It didn’t make sense why it happened then. Why everything came crashing down at that moment, watching him shuffle around pillows to make the bed the way he knew you liked it. 

Alas, you fell to pieces, the weight of everything that had happened suddenly sinking it. Just how close you’d been to being seriously hurt, killed, how much danger the love of your life had been in. 

He was startled by the sobs that started to rip from your lungs, but he caught you anyways, arms winding around your waist as he sat the both of you down on the edge of the bed, you on his lap.

“It’s okay baby, you’re safe. You’re safe it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” He repeated it over and over, rocking you back and forth. The thought of him being hurt had your mind spinning, and you reached down, caught the bottom of the shirt you didn’t remember him putting on, tugging it up in a bid to get to his skin, to get closer to him. He let you do it even if he didn’t understand what you needed, desperate to help you in any way that he could. 

Once he was shirtless you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his neck, his chest, anywhere you could reach, letting your brain accept that he was okay, that he was safe. You hadn’t realized how much of the weight had been because you were worried about him, what could have happened, what almost happened. Each kiss settled you even more, your tears ceasing as he held you. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered against his collarbone when you finally found your voice, leaning back so you could kiss his lips. He kissed you back, but you could feel his confusion at your words.

“I think I’m the one that’s supposed to be saying that right now. I’m so sorry. I should have checked the camera before we went to bed, hired more security. I just never thought -”

You cut him off again with a kiss. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.” 

“It is though. My lifestyle, putting shit about my life online, that’s why he chose our house, why all of that happened.”

“Baby stop. It’s okay. We’re okay now.” 

He was quiet then, hands moving up to your face, thumbs tracing over your cheeks. It relaxed you slightly, calming your body in a way that only his touch could.

“Seeing you... like that.” He couldn’t make himself say it. “I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

“I’m glad it was me and not you.” You didn’t skip a beat, bringing a hand up over his when he cringed at your words.

“Angel please, please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. I’d do it again if I had to.” 

He tilted your face up. “Look at me. You aren’t ever going to have to do anything like that. No one is going to hurt you, ever again. I won’t let it happen. Okay? That’s a fucking promise.”

“That sounds nice.” You rested your cheek in his palm, just watching him look at you for a few moments, comfortable silence filling the room.

“You tired?” He asked eventually, noticing your drooping eyelids as the rest of the adrenaline finally made it’s way out of your system. You nodded against him, holding on as he stood the two of you up so he could pull the covers back. 

While you were pretty sure Grayson outgrew a twin size bed when he was 12, you were thankful for it that night. He not so subtlety moved you over so you were by the wall, his body broad enough that you couldn’t even see the door as you curled up in his arms, let him press you against him as close as he could get. He’d put himself between you and the outside world, any danger that could possibly ever come your way - and he did it every night after that too, made himself a shield of sorts even back in your room at the house. 

He never drifted from you in his sleep again.

read part two here

[kisskissbanggang]

chan in the teacher's office with a massive praise kink that you just wouldn't give to him :DDDDDD

[MOE THANK YOU FOR THIS BABYYYYYYYY]

[sub!idol, dom!reader, femdom, rivals, praise kink, elements of rough sex, elements of brat taming, elements of corruption kink, taunting, degradation, dirty talk, face-sitting, semi-public,

Someone was a two-faced snake, and you had a good idea who it could be. Of all the names on the list to apply for the TA opening, you didn’t put it past the candidate who got the job to have thrown you under the bus to get there.

In fact, Chan had been there when you went to drop off your application materials in person between class sessions. The only problem was you had been running miserably late for your next class when you hadn’t found the professor in his office like you’d originally attempted.

“Are you looking for the professor?” He’d curiously asked, sitting in the front row of the lecture hall and packing up his things. He looked a bit familiar, and you wondered where you’d seen him as he introduced himself even though you didn’t have much time or desire to care. When you told him you had something to give to the professor, Chan had simply grinned and warmly offered to take whatever you had and make sure it was delivered if you had to leave. You had felt uneasy, but there was no way you’d get to class on time if you waited.

So now Chan was the TA. And now you only wanted to get back at him.

You did some quick research, of course. No one really noticed or cared that you sat in on a lecture one afternoon when your schedule allowed, and tapped around on your laptop to see if you could find any info on Chan. Now you knew why you thought you recognized him. He was everywhere. Debate club, soccer team, president of his frat — he was seasoned at clawing his way to the top, apparently. You also realized you’d heard his name whispered around. Chan was incredibly attractive and capable, but thoroughly unapproachable as he was constantly busy with school and cold to anyone who presented a distraction. Even then, however, you learned from some friends that word around campus was he was a sucker for blowing off steam with the occasional pickup from the library.

So you went to the library. Every day, for the next week, you hung out at the library until after dark to study and work, practically living in a study station as close to the front entrance as you could get. Eventually, your diligence paid off and you saw him browsing the shelves. You’d made sure to evoke the look of the girls you’d heard he’d fooled around with — cute, eager, and susceptible. You packed up your bag and made to cross the library floor as Chan headed down between the tables, and pretended to be obliviously startled as you bumped into him and dropped your books.

You were sure to look sheepish. Chan beamed at you as he helped you pick up your books. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you giggled demurely as you dusted yourself off. “I’m so sorry — hey, don’t I know you?”

Chan’s eyes shined with opportunity. He clearly recognized you, but you didn’t recognize him? “No, I don’t think we know each other,” he innocently shrugged, “but I sure would like to.”

You let Chan buy you a coffee at the library cafe that evening. You let him buy you a coffee the next day at the cafe in the student lounge, too. You even let him walk you to class, and you even went to the library together to study that afternoon. It was then, as he got up to look for a book, that you peered into his bag. Nothing out of the ordinary — until you spied what you were looking for. Nonetheless, you had ended the night telling Chan, “You’re the best,” and his winning smile had the smallest edge of smugness to it that you couldn’t deny.

This ruse with Chan continued for a whole week (you even got a dinner out of it) until you decided to make your move. Of all the pretty boy alpha types you ever came across in school, Chan wasn’t as obnoxious, but he was still every bit as insufferable, and your need to one-up him hadn’t waned whatsoever. Part of his tasks as TA were to get into the professor’s office and copy the grades and feedback into the web portal for records and student access. This was normally best done during the professor’s lunch, since he didn’t have his next class until much later that afternoon and this left Chan plenty of time. He just wasn’t expecting to see someone sitting in the professor’s chair when he came in this time.

You spun in the chair, giving him a knowing smile when you faced him. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Chan grinned, more confused than surprised. “What’re you doing here?”

“I missed you,” you pouted. Chan’s eyes were glued to your knees under your skirt as you uncrossed your legs and leaned forward, hands set apparently eager upon your thighs. “I wanted to see you.”

Chan, that idiot. He dropped his bag as he closed the door behind him and instantly approached you. You tried to hold back, not wanting to give anything away, and you let him duck down to cup your face before he just went for it and kissed you for the first time. It was nice, admittedly, his soft lips pressed to yours just hard enough to let his desire become apparent. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he smiled radiantly.

“So have I,” you nodded sweetly.

“Come on,” Chan kissed you again, murmuring against your lips as he pulled on your hand, “let’s go back to my place.”

“Mmph, no,” you whined as you sat back in the chair and let your knees fall open, “I want you right here, professor.”

Chan paused, his ego clouding his mind and getting distracted when you teasingly ran your fingers down his chest and over his belt. To really sell the ruse for the past week, you had seemed too bashful to really even hold hands this whole time, so this was proving effective as Chan stood a bit stunned, lips parted like he was trying to find any words at all when you finally pulled at his shirt and brought him back down to kiss you again.

This seemed to ignite something in Chan, as he groaned in your kiss and instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. “You want it?” He asked, his voice already growing husky from arousal. You nodded, seemingly desperate before he slid a hand up your knee and he kissed you harder now, his tongue hungrily prodding into your mouth while his fingers brazenly brushed against your panties.

“Oh, professor,” you moaned cutely, which only served to fuel Chan’s motivations as he massaged your accumulating wetness into you with his fingertips. You knew what would be coming. He’d heard you gush that he was the best for the past week and now he only wanted to hear you moan it for him while he fucked you. However, even then he didn’t want to rush you too much. He waited until the moment you reached for his belt. If he had been thinking more clearly, Chan would’ve considered what the consequences could be if he got caught fucking in the professor’s office, but that much consideration was a pipe dream the second you pulled his jeans open and exposed his hard member.

Chan clawed into your hips and pulled you to the edge of the professor’s chair before he nudged your soaked panties to the side and lined up against you. His hushed gasp was even sort of cute when he finally began to rock his hips into you. It was almost distracting, the way his brows furrowed and the way his cheeks flushed as he worked his way deep inside you. But you wouldn’t allow yourself to get distracted. Instead, you forced yourself to be starkly silent.

It didn’t take long for Chan to notice. His groans sounded more frustrated within minutes, no matter how hard he tried to cover it up. “Come on, baby, I know it’s so good,” he panted. “Tell me how good it is.”

“Yeah,” you clearly placated, “it’s so good.”

Chan was pretty much flabbergasted, practically stupefied before he decided to try something else. Clearly, this had never happened before. More than likely, every girl who had ever wrapped her legs around him made him feel like a deity before you came along. Chan stubbornly scooped you up from the chair and picked you up to perch you on the professor’s desk before he began fucking you in earnest again. “There we go,” he groaned in satisfaction, “that’s much better, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you casually agreed, “it’s way better.”

“What is your deal?!” Chan finally broke, but his hips didn’t stop snapping against you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged innocently, trying hard not to squeal from how amazing Chan felt inside you.

“No no, you don’t get to pull that,” Chan shook his head adamantly, “I’m an amazing lay, don’t play games with me.”

“Who’s playing games?” You asked. “I just thought you were going to fuck me like you did when you ruined my chances of getting the TA position.”

“The what?!” Chan backed up, his cock popping out of your dripping pussy before you fiercely clutched his shirt to pull him close again.

“The TA position, you fucking asshole,” you growled, “don’t play dumb now.”

“So you did recognize me,” Chan snapped, even as he still recovered from you suddenly saying anything more severe than dang. You rolled your eyes despite his slick length prodding back inside you.

“Of course I did, stupid. So who’s worse: me for lying, or you for wanting to rub your victory in my face by being some sex god?”

“Look, it isn’t like that—“

“Oh my god, Chan, I’m being rhetorical, of course it’s you. Trying to have your cake and eat it too? How predictable. And what were you gonna do? Make me worship your dick and bask in my stupidity?”

“You’re making it sound so much worse!” Chan laughed defensively, even as his dick was currently filling you out again. “Maybe I thought if you didn’t recognize me I’d actually have a chance with you? You can stop pretending this isn’t good and just hate me like a normal fucking person.”

“Or you could actually earn it instead of just insisting on it,” you grinned. “It’s fine though, I won’t tell anyone you’re just alright in the sack. Only you and I will know... but that would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it?”

“You are such a conniving bitch!”

“Then why are you still fucking me, stupid? Admit you want to earn it and maybe we’ll make some progress here. You clearly fucked my chances so you’re lucky I’m in this for sport and not reporting you to the deans.”

“Why would you?! You have no proof—“

Chan shut up, instantly, as you plucked open a button on your blouse to pull the stolen application you’d found in his bag out from where it was tucked in your bra. “Earn it, stupid. Earn it or I’m reporting you to the deans.”

He swallowed down his retort as he eyed the application in your hand. “I'm guessing you have a picture of that application sitting in my bag where you found it,” he muttered as he tried to catch his breath.

“Of course I do, you dumb cock. Now admit you want to earn your gold star; you’re making this less fun the more you pussyfoot around it.”

Chan paused, staring down the piece of paper as you folded it back up and reached forward to tuck it in his pocket. It was that tiny gesture that assured him of something he’d wondered since you first exposed your plot. Hadn’t you been getting along? It couldn’t have all been a lie. Suddenly, Chan felt much more at ease once you put the application in his pocket. This was a game, or just sportsmanship, like you said — and he was an awful loser.

“Fine, I want it,” Chan admitted with disgust, “I want you to tell me how good I am. Tell me how to get it.”

“Oh, now I have to tell you?” You laughed out loud even while you tried your hardest to keep your voice steady. “You wouldn’t need me to tell you if you were such an amazing lay.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed immediately at the comeback. “Do you want it or not, you bitch.” It was almost a pout, and you loved how pathetic it was.

“On the floor, slut.”

Your command was simple but the humiliation burned Chan enough that he didn’t even have a retort for you while he slipped back out of you and lowered himself to the floor. His leaking member was still standing tall even when you raised a foot to playfully shove into his shoulder to lay him down. You stepped closer, like you were circling prey and taking your time before you were soon stood with your flats on either side of his head on the professor’s office floor. He sucked in a gasp as he got a great view up your skirt until you lowered yourself fully onto his face and reached forward to grab onto his cock. Chan shivered.

“See? You could’ve been having this much fun this whole time,” you purred as you massaged his length. “You just had to find someone to make you stop trying to pretend to be some top dog alpha male.”

“Please,” Chan moaned against you, “you taste so fucking good but please let me fuck you again.” He was muffled once you ground your soaked pussy against his plush lips, swollen and red by now. His hands gripped hard onto your thighs where you straddled his face, caught between trying to breathe and trying to lick every inch of you.

“You sure, slut?” You grinned. “You sure I won’t be bored into thinking about my thesis research?”

“I told you that subject is way too broad--” Chan bit back until you shut him back up again. You took mercy as he whined into you. “I want it,” he gasped once you lifted off of him again. “You won’t be bored if you tell me what to do. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Anything to succeed, huh?” You taunted. You could almost feel him blush harder under you. Admittedly, Chan was accelerating your arousal more than you ever wanted to admit. For being such a cocky jerk, he was incredibly good with his tongue — maybe his loud mouth was good for something after all. Worse still, you did want to feel his cock inside you again.

You tried to seem nonchalant as you arose to your feet, because the last thing you wanted was to give away your excitement while you turned and sat yourself down on Chan’s hips. “Look at me, Chan,” you softly directed, one hand steadying yourself by pressing into his shoulder and your other hand raked back into his hair. He did look at you, all puppy dog eyes and his lips slick with you as he still tried to catch his breath while you slowly slid his warmth back inside you. You both groaned now, and he immediately lit up at your response as you began to roll your hips against his.

He practically whimpered the second you moaned again, and if you’d known you just needed to train him to respond to any reaction out of you to get you so fired up, you wouldn’t have even bothered with making him fight for any praise. Chan groaned and whined under you as you roughly rode him and angled your hips so you could still grind your clit against him. “You want it?” You mewled. “You want me to tell you how good you are?”

“Yes,” Chan gasped, followed by a quick sigh of pleasure as you teasingly dragged a fingernail down his neck. He gave a shocked cry as you grabbed his shoulder, hauling him over with you to roll over and land between your legs.

“Earn it, baby,” you taunted, and Chan took the bait. He spread you wide on the floor and grabbed onto one of your legs to throw it over his shoulder and keep you open for his fingers to tease at your clit. You were honestly impressed. Apparently he just needed some pushing to get creative. And, like this, he was good. He was an amazing lay, but you were still a bit begrudged to admit it. But that was being a sore loser, wasn’t it? “Chan,” you finally gasped as he angled right into your most sensitive spot.

“What?” He panted, not letting up his pace as he drilled into that sweet little target. That peak seemed to be approaching much faster than you originally thought.

“Chan,” you repeated, more desperately now, “you’re the best, you’re the fucking best, make me finish—“

Chan responded with a broken moan, a harried whimper as you finally shattered to pieces on his cock and came way harder than you’d previously saw coming. He seemed to be right on your trail as well as his fingertips dug into your hips, even as you’d pretty much gone limp aside from the small tremors felt through to your toes. “Holy shit,” he croaked, “you’re so goddamn good, I’m gonna—”

“—Cum,” you sighed with relief, fast enough to practically be another command for him to follow. Chan did, still obediently following orders as he clawed into you. His hips stuttered against you and he climaxed with a hoarse cry, his orgasm flowing hot and causing you both to melt into each other.

Chan collapsed onto your chest after he relinquished your leg, but made sure to roll more to your side so he wouldn’t suffocate you. You both gasped for air now. He was oddly sweet, his lips nuzzling against your neck and under your ear. “So... Are we even?” He finally panted.

“Hardly,” you cooed as you kissed his hair and sat up. You rolled him the rest of the way off of you and he looked up at you with those puppy eyes again. It was awful, how cute he was, but it was starting to grow on you. “Now I just hate you like a normal person.”

If Chan was as smart as you knew he was, he would figure you out. If he wanted to keep playing, he had to see the move you were setting up.

“Fine,” he grinned. You were actually relieved. “Give me a few tries and we’ll see how you feel then.”

[your-eternal-muse]

She’s Got You Mesmerized

Heather Series Part Four

Part One Part Two Part Three

Summery: Reader is getting sick and tired of keeping everything inside. So, she lets him know exactly how she feels. Well, not exactly.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader

Warnings: Beginning of Nicotine addiction (please don’t smoke), swearing, mention of manipulation, Heather being a straight BITCH

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Not much to say here except that I’m the one writing Heather, and I hate her guts. I need a bitchy last name to give her. Any ideas? 

~~~~

I’ve never been one to smoke.

I did it when I was in high school to appear “cool”, but I dropped the habit after graduation.

I never really liked the taste, and no matter how hard I tried, I always ended up smelling like it just a little bit.

But I understand why people smoke.

Rebel against their parents.

Need something to do to catch a break at work.

Relieve stress.

I fall into the last category, the nicotine in my veins like a blanket of calm over me, as I dial the same number for the 8th time in the past hour.

As it rings in my ear, I bring the cigarette resting between my fingers up to my mouth, taking a long drag in.

“Hey, this is Spencer. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

BEEP.

“Spencer, the jet was supposed to leave 40 minutes ago. Hotch is pissed, and quite frankly, so am I. I get you’re getting married in three months, but if you could maybe take your dick out of her for a second, and remember you have a job to do, that’d be great.”

Click.

One last drag before putting it out underneath my heel and climbing aboard the jet.

“Anything?” Hotch asks, looking up from the file in his hand.

I shake my head, sitting down next to JJ, and dialing his number one more time.

“If he’s not on this plane within the next five minutes, we're leaving without him.”

BEEP.

I hold it up directly to my mouth. 

“Pick up your fucking phone and get your ass here!”

Click.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, the effects of the cigarette already leaving me.

JJ pats my leg, looking over the file again.

I couldn’t help my sour mood today, or the past month for that matter.

Every attempt I made to just resume being his friend, and get over myself, he’s ducked out at the last second.

“Heather wants me to go cake tasting with her.”

“I’m sorry, I agreed to stay in with Heather.”

“Heather isn’t feeling well, so I thought I’d stay home and take care of her.”

Sometimes he doesn’t even give one.

Sometimes he doesn’t even show.

Finally, right before the stairs are about to lift, Spencer appears, out of breath and disheveled.

“I’m so sorry. My phone died.”

Bullshit. It rang. You declined it.

“The hickey on your neck says otherwise.” Derek says from his seat, looking over the edge of the file up at him.

Spencer’s face turns red, knowing he got caught, his hand coming to rest over the fresh bruise.

I smirk a little.

“Spencer, I know you’re getting married, but you’re still a part of this team. Please try and remember that.” Hotch is stern, clearly agitated that we’re so behind schedule.

Spencer sets his bag down, and begins to read through the material.

It’s a relatively simple case, two bodies, same M.O., and Garcia already found a connection between the two victims.

We’ll be home within a few days.

And then Spencer can go back to avoiding me for whatever reason he’s not telling me.

When we land two hours later, Hotch splits the team up, having me and Spencer go back to the station and start on the geographical profile.

He won’t meet my eyes since listening to my voicemails.

He’s a smart boy. He knows I’m right.

When we get there, a detective leads us to a small conference room, and I thank him before setting down my stuff. 

A couple of cardboard evidence boxes are sitting on the table, and I start to remove the contents, placing them in piles on the table.

I don’t look at him.

I don’t speak to him.

Because I’m not entirely sure I won’t break down crying when I do.

I wasn’t as angry as I was upset.

I promised myself that the one thing that wouldn’t change, was our friendship. I’d still be his best friend, and he’d still be mine.

But even that seems to be changing and it feels like there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I start taping up pictures of the victims and their wounds to the clear board, while he starts pinning up a map on the bulletin board beside mine.

The air is tense.

“You’re angry.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“How could you tell Spencer? Was it my cold shoulder or how I won’t meet your eye?” I begin writing down the notes we made while on the jet underneath the photos.

“Look, I know I was late. Unbelievably late. I should have told her no.”

“But you didn’t.” I slap the marker down on the table, turning to look at him head on, crossing my arms.

“No. I didn’t. I didn’t because-”

“Because you didn’t want to. You’re a guy, Spencer. When a pretty girl tells you she wants to fuck you, you can’t resist.”

I’m trying not to think about it.

About him fucking her.

How badly I wish it were me.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

“But I’m not angry about that Spencer. You want to fuck your fiance, fine, there are less normal things to do,” I take a step forward. “No, I’m angry because every time I call you, you decline it, when you used to pick up before it even began ringing.”

Tears prick my eyes.

You stupid bitch, I told you not to cry!

“I’m angry because I haven’t had lunch with you for the past month and a half. I’m angry that you don’t even bother calling to tell me you won’t be able to make it, you just don’t show up!”

His eyes are sad, and I know that this isn’t helping anything.

I know that I should say ‘forget it’ and turn back to the case, but I can’t.

“I miss you, Spencer. I miss you and I don’t know what I’ve done to make you avoid me.”

“You did-”

His phone starts to ring.

I’m going to throw that thing across the fucking room.

He takes it out of his pocket, and I briefly see her picture before he slides his thumb over decline.

“She does realize you’re still an agent of the BAU, right? And isn’t she a teacher? Shouldn’t she be in school right now?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N, I promise. It’s just-”

His phone rings again.

Fuck this.

“I’m going out for a smoke. Talk to her. She’s obviously not going to stop until you do.”

I grab my bag off the table and walk out into the main space, finding my way out of the building and into the street.

I find a bench not too far away and sit down, digging through my bag and producing my pack of cigarettes and my lighter, placing one between my lips and lighting up.

You’re losing him. He doesn’t even want you as a friend anymore. You’re worthless. Worthless. WORTHLESS.

If I could punch the voice in my head, I would.

It’s kinda ironic, though. 

It sounds like Heather.

I take a deep drag and inhale, keeping the smoke in my lungs for a moment before exhaling.

My mind starts to go fuzzy and before I know it, it’s done.

I don’t have time for another one, so I sigh, getting up and throwing the bud into a nearby trash can.

I walk back through the building and up to the conference room, preparing myself for the next couple of hours, but I hear voices, and I pause.

I peek around the corner of the door frame, and into the room.

Spencer has his back to me, his phone in one hand, marker in the other.

“-best friend, Heather. She’s been my best friend for the past 8 years. Not seeing her is affecting our relationship. Don’t you trust me?”

I hear a sigh come from the phone. He has it on speaker.

“I trust you, okay? It’s her I don’t trust. Look, I like her. I think she’s sweet, but I don’t like the way she looks at you.”

“You still won’t tell me how she supposedly looks at me.” He’s annoyed, his fist wrapping around the marker.

Trouble in paradise?

“She looks at you like she’s in love with you. And I don’t like it. That’s why I don’t want you seeing her anymore. I’m afraid that she’s gonna do something and ruin everything.”

That. Bitch.

“She’s not going to do anything. Don’t you think if she had feelings for me, she would have done something by now? Baby, you have nothing to worry about. She’s my family, like how you’re my family.”

He pauses.

“I love her.”

“But not like you love me right?”

I’m about to beat this gas lighting bitch into the next century.

“Different kind of love.” His voice is quiet, and he’s looking down at the floor, and I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to break anymore than it already has. But I can feel the already broken pieces shatter.

He doesn’t love you like he loves her. He just said so. You’re nothing compared to her.

“Just making sure. We’ll talk more later. The lunch period is almost over. Love you!”

“I love you, too.”

He hangs up the phone, and shoves it back into his pocket, still not aware of my presence as I move to stand fully in the doorway.

“So that’s why you’re avoiding me? Because Heather told you too!?”

The tears pricking my eyes are hot, and rage builds in my stomach.

He turns, surprise slapped across his face.

“Y/N-”

“If Hotch asks you, you’re going to tell him that you didn’t need my help, that you told me I could go help JJ. Clear?”

His mouth opens and closes, and his shoulders slouch, as he nods his head, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Good. Oh, and Spencer?” 

He looks up at me.

“Don’t forget that you had a life before her, and that just because she’s a part of it now, doesn’t mean she’s the only part.”

With that I turn, walking back out into their bullpen, spotting JJ sitting on a desk, talking to someone on the phone.

The call finishes as I walk up to her.

“He-, what’s wrong? You’re crying.” She stands, placing a hand on my arm. 

“I’ll tell you tonight at the hotel. But Spencer doesn’t need my help, so I thought I could come help you interview the families.”

Please help me.

She nods, understanding. “The family of the first victim is already here. Let’s go.”

We pass by the conference room where Spencer resides, and the door is closed.

We walk by, and the blinds are open, revealing him arguing into his phone.

They’re arguing over you. You destroy things everywhere you go.

I keep walking.

~~~~

Three days later, we’re heading home.

It’s late, and my team is asleep around me, even if it is only for a few hours.

I can’t seem to find sleep so easily.

Instead, I settle for reading the same page of my book, over and over again.

You know. For fun.

However, I am not the only one awake.

Spencer stands and quickly makes his way towards my end of the jet.

He sits next to me, his own book in hand.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, just sitting and staring at me.

“Whatcha reading?”

I close the book over my finger, keeping my spot while showing him the cover so that he can read the title.

Warm Bodies, By Isaac Marion.

My favorite.

“I should have known. It’s your comfort book. You read it when you need a break.”

I flip it back open and continue scanning the page.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

I huff, placing my bookmark in the crook of the spine, and closing it louder than I probably should have.

I look at him, and I almost apologize for my behavior.

He looks like a kicked puppy.

No. He hurt you. He needs to apologize for that.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize what she was doing until it was too late. Please believe me when I say I would never intentionally hurt you.”

It hurts more when you don’t realize it though.

“I told her that she needs to know that you’re my family. And that you’re not going anywhere.”

I can’t help but let my face soften, even though I wish it didn’t. As much as I wish I could stay mad at him, I can’t. Not when the look on his face is so genuine.

“I’m sorry for not calling, for not picking up, for the no-shows. I was a dick to you, and you didn’t deserve it.”

He makes it so hard to hate him.

“She’s actually really upset that she hurt you. She never meant to.”

For some reason, I don’t believe her, but go off, I guess.

He sees the hesitance on my face, so he smiles, and leans his head against my shoulder.

“Let me make it up to you. Lunch, at that Italian place you like? My treat.”

“Are you allowed to do that? Teacher said no.”

I run my fingers over the outline of the cover of my book, outlining the words.

He rolls his eyes. “Ha ha ha. You’re so funny.”

A small smile spreads across my face, as I reopen my book, settling down into my seat.

“I’m getting desert, by the way. Even if I don’t finish my pasta.”

He laughs to himself, leaning back into his seat and opening his own book.

“Anything for you, Y/N. Anything for you.”

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