#he’s learning how to drive. i can’t. he was admitted into university. i wasn’t. he’s able to find what he likes and stick to it. i can’t.

[deus-ex-mona]

little brothers and their will to #slay, man </3

[delusionalwriterr]

See Her Smile

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: With Bucky being new to relationships, he’s still trying to learn how to handle things. But how does he handle things when you’re going through something you don’t even know how to handle yourself? 

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: signs of depression, angst, fluff

A/N: GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM THE DEAD Y’ALL. i missed writing so much, but life keeps giving me reasons not to T_T this fic is based off of See Her Smile from Tick, Tick... Boom! it's been stuck in my head all week, and i couldn't help but write something about it.

Masterlist | Prompt List

–––––

You hear Nat cheer beside you as you watch Steve catch the ball that was thrown to him. “That’s my man!” she exclaims as you take a swig of water, watching the football team as they prepare for an upcoming game. 

This wasn’t your normal scene. If you’d ask your freshman self if she’d be willing to sit in the sweltering heat to watch sweaty men push each other around, she would laugh it off and turn back to binge watching her favorite show on Netflix. It wasn’t until you started dating one of the university’s linebackers, Bucky Barnes, did you even begin to consider watching football matches and turning up to their practices all together. 

“Come on, lighten up! Your man’s over there too,” Nat pipes up, briefly looking over at you before turning back to watch the team. You chuckle as your eyes land on his figure. You couldn’t exactly see his face, but you were able to spot him in the field considering you’ve been dating for about 4 months now. You let out a cheer as you watch him tackle another player to the ground. His head snaps towards the direction of your voice as he stands up.  You can’t see it, but you knew he was smiling. He puts his hand on his chest before pointing at you, his way of saying, “That one’s for you!”

You grin, cheeks heating up at his gesture as you feel your chest swell. Nat turns to you, a sly smirk on her face as she sips her iced coffee. “I take it that things with you two are going well?” she asks, making you tear your attention away from the field. You grin even wider before answering, “Yeah, things are great.”

You have to admit, you’d never think you would end up dating a football player– and when Bucky approached you one night at a random party to ask you out, you halfheartedly said yes, expecting that he would just take you to a random sports bar and try to hook up with you the same night. Fortunately, the date went better than expected with him bringing you to his favorite taco truck downtown and driving you to one of those retro drive-in movie theaters. However, he failed to check what movie they were playing that night and had the both of you watch a random Scandinavian film with no subtitles. In the end, the two of you decided on staying in the car and get to know each other more with the movie long discarded in the background. 

Eventually, you ended up going on a few more dates after that and got to know how sweet he really was. Sure, he was still a jock and was still getting a hang of being in a committed relationship, but you could see him actively put the effort in it so you were more than happy. 

You hear their coach blow his whistle, signaling the end of their practice which prompts you and Nat to jump from your seats and head down to the field to meet Bucky and Steve. Nat gets there first, crashing into Steve’s embrace, almost knocking him over. You laugh at the interaction before your eyes land on Bucky’s. With his helmet off, you have the opportunity to finally see his face. His hair was flat from his helmet with a few strands clinging to his forehead, the eye black on his cheeks smudged due to the sweat, and his mouth stretched into that boyish grin you grew to love. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asks playfully as you approach him. He puts his helmet down to wipe the beads of sweat on his face. “Just looking for some hot jocks to kiss,” you tease, earning a laugh from him before he wraps his arms around your waist. “Find anyone you like?” he plays along. You smile, snaking your arms to the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, I got one right here,” you giggle as you pull him into a kiss. It was soft and slow, and you could taste the saltiness of the sweat on his upper lip, but you didn’t care. 

“Hello to you too, dollface,” you hear him mumble between your lips before pulling away.  “I’m taking Steve to that new pizza place that just opened near campus, come with us?” he asks, shaking his head which elicited droplets of sweat to fly towards you much to your disgust. “You’re such a boy for doing that,” you grumbled. “But yeah, count me in.”

He smiles, but before he could get another word in, Nat interjects, “Count me in, too!” 

Bucky shakes his head, “Nuh uh, you’re not invited. Steve told me how sick he was of you and how loud you snore when you sleep.” Nat gasps before playfully hitting Steve in the chest, earning an “ow” from him. “You told Bucky?!” she shrieks, but before she could protest even more, Steve pulls her into a kiss, muttering a quick “I love you”, then runs towards the shower room. Bucky turns back to you, giving you a swift kiss. “Pick you, guys, up in 20.” 

As he was leaving, he looks back over at Nat and lets out a few loud snores, prompting her to throw a handful of dirt towards him. “Screw you, Buchanan!”  

–––––

A few days later, Bucky walks out of the field, his bag hanging from his shoulder, a cold breeze brushing through him as he begins to walk back to campus. “Hey, Buck, solid practice today,” Sam Wilson, one of the tackles, pipes up from behind him. “Yeah, man, good job today,” Bucky replies, giving his teammate a fist bump. “Me and Parker are gonna grab a few drinks, you coming?” 

Bucky laughs, the thought of Parker getting tipsy over a few pints entering his mind. He shakes his head, “I’ll pass tonight, man. Might go see my girl.” 

Sam smirks before clasping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Alright, see you around.” 

“Hey, take care of Parker, alright? Don’t want his aunt to find out he got wasted over a few cocktails!” Bucky calls out, earning a cackle from his teammate as he walks away. 

He checks the time to find out practice ended a few minutes early so he sends you a quick message, knowing you’re probably still in class. 

hey doll practice finished early

want me to walk you to your dorm? i should be able to swing by to pick you up from class

He waits for a few minutes before hearing a ping from his phone, gaze immediately falling to the screen. 

no need. didn’t go to class today wasn’t feeling well. 

oh? you want me to bring you some soup?

no its ok. thank u tho

anything for you, baby

do you want me to come over tho? 

maybe next time, bucky. sorry

Bucky frowns, taking notice of the difference in the way you typed. You were colder than usual and you’d usually want to see him even when you weren’t feeling the best. He’s a bit disappointed too, wanting to take care of you until you get better, but knows to respect your wishes. So he brushes it off. 

He shoots you a quick text saying he hopes you feel better soon before messaging Sam to say he’ll catch up with him and Parker in a few. 

Looks like he’ll take up Sam’s offer after all. 

–––––

Bucky cranes his neck over to the bleachers, but frowns when his eyes land on Nat sitting alone. You didn’t come to his practice today. Bucky would’ve been fine about it, but he knows you didn’t have any conflicting classes at this time and you would’ve messaged him beforehand if you weren’t able to come for whatever reason. 

“Maybe she’s still feeling under the weather,” Steve reasons, following his best friend’s gaze towards the seats.  

Bucky nods absentmindedly in response, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He was trying so hard to hide the fact that he was getting increasingly worried. He also doesn’t want to seem too clingy considering you’ve only been seeing each other for a short time. He’s only been in a handful of serious relationships before, and most of them happened when he was still a clueless teenager in highschool. You were the first person he was willing to be fully committed to after a few months of fooling around in college so he definitely does not want to screw things up.

After practice, he asks Nat if she knew where you were only to find out that Nat was just as clueless as he was. With a huff, Bucky fishes his phone out of his pocket. 

missed you at practice today. still feeling sick? 

“Hey,” Steve calls from behind him, Nat trailing closely behind. “Nat and I are gonna go study at the library, see you there?” 

Bucky snorts. “By study at the library you mean get frisky by the shelves at the back? Yeah, I think I’ll pass.” 

Steve laughs as Nat drags him away from the field, patting Bucky’s back comfortingly before fully parting ways. This action goes unnoticed as Bucky’s eyes remain glued to his phone, waiting for your reply. 

A few minutes pass and he grows antsy. He hesitantly types another message. 

baby? 

This time, you read the message, but still don’t reply. Bucky runs his hand through his hair, a sign that he was growing anxious. He looks around the field, desperately trying to find someone to talk to so he could take his mind off of you. To his dismay, the rest of the team either left or were still in the showers. 

Bucky thinks about his next move. 

i’m coming over. 

He quickly stuffs his phone in his pocket and practically sprints over to your dorm, a million things racing in his mind. His chest tightens at the thought of you being in trouble, not really knowing what to expect when he sees you. If he sees you. 

Bucky shakes his head to get rid of the image of him turning up at your dorm only to find it empty– he wouldn’t know where to begin looking for you considering you won’t reply to his messages. This is the first time you acted like this towards him, and Bucky tries to recall everything he’s said to you lately, attempting to think of anything that could have upset you. His pace slows down as he begins to question if he was overthinking things, his mind tricking him into thinking that he was being too clingy and it might turn you off. But with the absence of your replies and the assurance that you’re okay, Bucky’s strides become bigger and he picks up speed towards your dorm. 

A head of brown hair meets his gaze as the door to your apartment swings open upon his knock. “Hey, Wanda,” Bucky greets your roommate, chest heaving and beads of sweat adorning his forehead. “I’m sorry for barging in all of a sudden. Is she..?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Wanda nods, opening the door wider for him to come in. Bucky nods his head as he enters. “She’s in her room,” Wanda mumbles before closing the door behind him. 

Bucky mutters a “thank you” before walking towards your door, about to turn the handle, but hesitates for a second. Slowly taking his hand off the brass knob, he raises a hand and places two soft knocks on the door. “Doll,” he calls, loud enough that he’s sure you hear him, but gentle enough to not startle you. When he doesn’t hear a reply, he continues, “Can I come in?” 

A few seconds later, a soft click from the other side fills his ears. Bucky takes this as a signal to slowly turn the knob and peak inside. He barely caught a glimpse of you walking back to your bed before he sees you pull the covers back to climb in, reassuming the position he figured you were in before you unlocked the door. 

Bucky steps inside and if it wasn’t for him shutting the door behind him, separating the two of you from the noises outside your bedroom, he wouldn’t have heard the sniffles that were coming out of your mouth. Your back was facing him, but he can clearly tell that you were hugging your knees to your chest as you tried to control your breathing, desperately attempting to conceal your cries. 

“Baby…” he breathes, approaching you cautiously and planting himself by your feet. Only then does he catch a glimpse of your face, your eyes puffy and cheeks tinted pink, presumably from crying for an extended period of time. Bucky frowns upon seeing you in this state. He’s seen you cry before, but it was usually from a sad movie or being stressed with homework. He doesn’t know why you are crying now, but he’s determined to find out. He places a hand on one of your calves and begins to rub soothing circles on it. “Did something happen?” 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice as you begin to wipe the tears that were still trickling down your cheeks. “Wanna tell me why you’re crying?” Bucky persists, eyes still fixed on you. You shrug and the room falls silent as you close your eyes.   

Bucky hears you take a deep breath before finally piping up. “Just feeling a little down,” you mumble, voice hoarse and barely loud enough for Bucky to catch. He moves his hand from your calf to one of your feet, giving it a soft squeeze before beginning to slowly press on its sole, easing the tense muscles and giving you a brief moment of peace. 

Bucky tries to think of what to say, but is interrupted by the sound of his phone going off. Clicking his tongue, he grabs his phone to find a text from Pietro.

hey wya? im at the study hall 

Cursing to himself, he suddenly remembers that he and Pietro agreed to meet tonight to work on a project they were partners in. Typing a quick reply to say that he’s on his way, he turns back to you before leaning over to press a kiss on your temple. “We all get blue sometimes, doll. We just gotta hang on, you know?” he attempts to comfort you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I gotta run, promised Pietro we’d do that project tonight. But I hope you feel better soon, baby. If you need anything, just text me, okay?” 

–––––

You don’t text him at all that night. 

In fact, if it wasn’t for the good morning text Bucky sent the next day, Bucky thinks you wouldn’t have texted him at all. Your replies grew colder and you became more distant, and Bucky was suffering. 

“Dude, what’s up? If you’re not busy being a total grump, you’re staring at your phone like you’re expecting something to pop out of it,” Steve points out as he, Bucky, and Nat sit in the cafeteria to have lunch. Bucky grumbles before slamming his phone face down on the table and sliding it away from him. “It’s (Y/N),” he starts, “she’s been acting off for days now.”

Steve and Nat share a look before Nat pipes up, “Have you tried asking her why?” Bucky scoffs. “Well, duh!” Bucky exclaims, running his hands through his hair. “I went over to her’s last night, but she just told me she was just feeling a little down.”

“And what did you say?” Steve asks. Bucky’s eyes meet his friend’s as he sighs. “I told her everyone gets sad and that we should just hang on. I left after that because I had to do that history project with Maximoff.”

The table falls silent and Bucky begins to zone out, thinking that the conversation would end there, but is quickly brought back to reality when something hits him dead center in the face. “Ow!” Bucky shouts as his hand flies up to cradle his nose. His eyes land on the table, a bread roll laying in front of him, causing his gaze to shoot up at the red head sitting across him. “Did you just throw a bread roll at me?” Bucky asks, his eyes wide with disbelief and confusion. 

“Well, duh!” Nat mocks, rolling her eyes at the brunette. “I always thought football players were dumb because of how much trauma their heads go through every game, but you’re on a whole ‘nother level, Buchanan.”

Bucky blinks. “Care to elaborate?”

Nat lets out an exasperated sigh before Steve butts in, “She’s obviously going through something, Buck. You can’t just tell her to suck it up.”

“Hellooooo!” Nat interjects, waving her hand in front of Bucky’s face as if what they were pointing out was the most obvious thing in the world. “She isn’t some jock going through a losing streak or something, actually be there for her, you know?” 

“Would you cut me some slack? It’s the first serious relationship I’ve been in since highschool, I’m still getting a hang of things again,” Bucky glares. He eyes the bread roll in front of him before giving in and grabbing it to take a bite. Nat watches him, a look of disgust adorning her face. 

The three of them sit in silence as Bucky contemplates on what to do. He picks up his phone to see no new messages from you, but his eyes catch the time. He knows you don’t have classes right now, and he figures you would just be in your dorm. He doesn’t want to ruin things with you, so he jolts up from his seat, catching the attention of the couple in front of him. “I’m gonna fix this,” he mumbles to himself before storming out of the cafeteria to head over to you.

“Atta boy!” Steve calls after him.

Bucky can feel his heart in his throat as he shakily knocks on your front door. To his surprise, you answer the door this time. His mouth starts to form a smile, but quickly turns into a frown when he takes in your form. At first, his heart skipped a beat when he noticed that you were wearing one of his shirts which was too big for you, the hem of it ending just by your thighs, and the bottom of one of his boxers peeking through it. 

But once he caught the way your shoulders were slumped and the dark circles around your eyes, he knew better than to celebrate. “Hey,” he exhales, flashing a sad smile, “can I come in?” 

You nod wordlessly before leaving the door ajar and making your way towards the couch. Bucky steps inside, shutting the door behind him before following suit. He sighs when he sees you on the couch, knees tucked closely to your chest and you watch whatever show is playing on the TV, eyes in an absent daze. 

He takes a seat beside you, draping an arm across the back of the couch only for you to launch yourself towards him like it’s a reflex. You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his chest as he instinctively encases you in an embrace. Bucky’s heart breaks as he hears you rack out a sob, his thumb beginning to rub circles on your shoulder. 

He gently places a kiss on your forehead as he feels his shirt become damp with your tears. “I’m sorry for leaving so soon the last time I was here,” he mumbles, lips still pressed to your temple. 

You don’t answer back right away and Bucky is forced to listen to you cry, his heart shattering after every noise that comes out of your mouth. 

“It’s just a drag,” you say between sniffles, “the world’s so mean.” 

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, not really understanding what you mean, but tries to think of something to say. His conversation with Steve and Nat replay in his mind as he desperately thinks of a reply, determined not to mess things up like last time.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, testing out the waters. He takes note of your silence and whispers, “Something’s breaking my baby’s heart and I wanna know what.” 

You let out a soft huff. “That’s the problem. I don’t know why I feel so down.”

The room falls silent. Bucky could hear his heartbeat in his ears, he felt his hands grow sweaty, his throat became dry, and his eyes began to prickle as tears started to form. He prays to whoever was listening before he asks. 

“Is it me?” 

“No, god no,” you shoot up, detaching yourself from him much to his dismay. Your eyes wide as he stares back at you with the same expression. Bucky looks down and begins to fiddle with his hands, another nervous tick of his, and you realize why he’s been so persistent about finding out what was making you upset. 

Bucky was afraid that he was the reason you’re in pain. 

You attempt to pacify his thoughts by placing your hands on both sides of his face. Bucky lets out a shaky breath as he leans into one of your hands, peppering it with feather-like kisses. You give him a teary smile. “It’s just that life’s so hard sometimes, you know?” 

Bucky gives you a smile in return, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he stares at you, trying to dig through the deepest parts of his brain to come up with something, anything, that could possibly make you feel better.

But before he could, you remove your hands from his cheeks and place them on your own as you wipe tears that you didn’t even know were flowing down your face. You stand up, causing Bucky to look at you in confusion. “You should go.”

“What? No,” he protests, standing up following you as you begin to walk towards the front door. Bucky’s mind is racing. 

Come on, dumbass, say something. Anything!

He opens his mouth, “Baby–”

“I just need to rest, Buck,” you interrupt, opening the door. “It’s not you, I promise.”

You press a kiss on his cheek as he looks down at you with sad eyes. 

You let out a small smile, “I’ll text you, okay?”

–––––

But you don’t.

You don’t text him even the day after that. 

Bucky’s mind was spinning. He felt absolutely helpless, and if it wasn’t for the harsh sound of a whistle filling his ears, he wouldn’t have snapped out of his daze. 

“Barnes!” the voice of his coach was enough for him to remember that he was in fact in the middle of the football field in the middle of practice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately, but if you can’t pull yourself together then you’re benched for the next game. You hear me?” the coach shouts from across the field. 

Bucky nods absentmindedly before shouting back, “Sorry, coach!” 

He shakes his head, trying to retain focus and deciding to pay you one more visit later. Bucky didn’t know what to do nor say, but he sure isn’t leaving your dorm without mending things. 

He sets those thoughts aside for now, and turns his attention back to his team. 

Bucky figured he had totally zoned out during practice because it was only when Steve sat beside him did he realize that practice was over. “(Y/N) still not feeling okay?” Steve asks, sympathy dripping from his every word as he looks at Bucky whose eyes were going through all of the unanswered texts he sent you today. 

good morning, doll

hope you’re feeling at least a little better today :) 

–

don’t forget to eat

<33 

–

just finished my trigonometry exam lol pretty sure i flunked it 

–

call me if you need anything, okay?

– 

found out parker has a gf lmaooo

i kept denying it til he introduced her to the whole team 

you’d like her :) she’s smart like you 

–

i miss you

please text me back 

–

heading to practice 

i miss you so much, doll 

Bucky drops his head in his hands, tears threatening to spill. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Stevie,” he croaks. “I just wanna see her smile again.” 

–––––

He’s met with Wanda again as the door to your dorm swings open. “Is she here?” Bucky stutters, not even bothering to apologize for showing up unannounced. Wanda shakes her head, “No, she’s been gone since last night.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as he swears he almost felt his heart stop at Wanda’s words. His breathing quickens and his chest grows tight as Wanda ushers him into the apartment. “What do you mean she’s been gone since last night? Has she talked to you today?” Wanda shakes her head again, “I’ve been texting her since this morning, but she hasn’t replied to any of it.” 

Bucky runs his hands through his hair as he begins to think about what could’ve happened to you. He starts to make a list of who to call, frantically trying to think of ways to locate you. This was it, he thought. This was how he lost you forever. If he just knew what to say at the right time, if he had just been a good boyfriend to you, this wouldn’t have happened and you wouldn’t be gone. 

He can’t breathe, his mind begins to scramble and his vision turns foggy. Bucky clutches a hand to his chest to try and ground himself, forcing himself to think. 

Think, Barnes, think! 

Just as he was about to dial 911, they hear the sound of keys rattling from the other side of the door causing both his and Wanda’s heads to snap towards its direction. Bucky holds his breath, uttering a dozen prayers in his head, hoping that it was you. 

It’s only when he sees you walk through the door did the tears finally start to flow. He bounds over to you and instantly throws his arms around you, pushing your head towards his chest. Bucky silently thanks whoever granted his prayers as one of his hands fly to rest behind your head before placing a bruising kiss on your forehead. After this, he rests his chin on top of your head and looks up, desperately trying to keep any more tears at bay. 

“I’ve been worried sick, doll, where were you?” he asks, trying to hide the fact that he’s been crying, but the crack in his voice gives it away. “Hmpff mff humff,” he hears you mumble against his chest, drawing a teary chuckle from him as he pulls away. “Sorry, come again?” 

“I went over to my parents to try and cheer myself up, I’m sorry I should’ve told you where I was going, I had my phone off the whole day and—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky laughs breathlessly, pulling you back into him. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He sees Wanda slowly retreat back into her room to give you space. The two of you stand there in silence, holding each other as you relish in the feeling of being in each other’s arms. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay, honestly,” you say, quietly. 

“And that’s perfectly fine, too,” Bucky replies, cradling your face in his hands. “Listen I know I haven’t been dealing with this as best as I could but—”

“No, Bucky–”

“Let me finish, doll. I know I'm still trying to find my footing with all of this, but I want you to know that I'll be here no matter what, okay? When you’re happy, when you’re sad, or even when you don’t know what you’re feeling.”

You smile at him gratefully, resting your hands on top of his. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me recently. I think college is just getting to me or something. It feels like I always wanna find the rain even on a sunny day, you know?” 

Bucky continues to stare into your eyes, sadness glazing over them. You shake your head and begin to pull away, “Forget it, it sounds stupid–”

“Woah hey, no,” Bucky interjects, placing his hands on your hips. “It doesn’t sound stupid. I may not fully understand what you’re feeling, but I’m here, aren’t I?” 

You shake your head. “I really don’t wanna drag you into this, you have so many things on your plate–”

You’re interrupted by Bucky placing his lips on yours, engulfing you in a kiss so passionate, it takes your breath away. 

“But I’m in it for the long run with you,” he mutters against your lips. 

You stumble because for the months you’ve been together, the future never really fell into conversation between the two of you. With your schedules being so hectic, you and Bucky wordlessly settled with just going with the flow, and you were fine with that. But upon hearing the words leave Bucky’s lips, you began to think what this meant. 

Bucky tenderly places his hands back on your cheeks, rubbing them softly in order to soothe you. “If it feels like life is dragging you down, then hang on ‘cause I'll be your bodyguard,” he starts, earning a soft chuckle from you which urges him to continue.  “If you feel like the whole world is a red flag, then I'll be with you to look for the green, and hell, if you wanna find rain on a sunny day then I’ll be there to dance all through the pain with you, doll.” 

Tears start to flow down your face, once again, as you smile. You smile in a way that Bucky hasn’t seen from you for the past few days. He smiles back. 

“But you gotta try to talk to me, okay?” he pipes up, wiping your tears with his thumbs before pressing another kiss on the top of your head. “I know I’m a meathead, but I promise I wanna try to understand what you’re feeling so I can help.” 

You nod against his lips as Bucky lets out a breath. You stay that way for a while, and Bucky was already satisfied with how the conversation turned out, vowing himself not to push you further into talking things out. It isn’t until he hears you mumble the words he’s been longing to tell you for so long that he feels his world come to a halt. 

“I love you.” 

This is the first time these words were uttered between the two of you, and Bucky feels his chest tighten again, but this time, it was due to an overwhelming sense of joy. He pulls you tighter against him before breathing out, “I love you too. So much.”

It was then Bucky realized that he didn’t need to mend things when you’re feeling this way. As much as he’d like to take away the pain, he knew that reminding you that he’ll always be there despite it is, and always will be, enough.  

–––––

A/N: hope you guys liked this one! highly recommend listening to the song itself, cuz it brings me so much comfort and i hope it brings you comfort too! <33

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 1.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Your job was supposed to be easy. Just take a flash drive through customs. Now there's blood under your nails and a threat to your life.

Master List / Next chapter Warnings: Violence, peril, panic attack/anxiety

Inaccurate military because COD MW is inaccurate (it's a fantasy, friends, and we're treating it like one).

A/N: Don't ask. I don't know what I'm doing here either. Hello, new fandom?

1.

There’s glitter stuck to the blood on your hands.

It all twinkles and shines in the sickly yellow glow of the alley’s one unbroken street light, and you wonder how long it will take the blood to dry, to turn flaky and dark in the crevices of your palm. It’s already going tacky. As the bass inside the club jars your heartbeat out of rhythm, you settle back into the skin under the blood, remembering you have your own, and you don’t want it to join the puddle seeping into the cracks of broken concrete at your knees. You wonder how much time you’ve lost.

Run, he said.

It isn’t the kind of order you sit and think over. It’s a do-or-die command, and you’re struggling to do much of anything as pins and needles creep through your legs. How long have you knelt there? How many songs have rolled through the speakers while you drifted? Probably too many.

Run.

He admitted he might’ve been followed. You remember that. And you remember the intel whispered in your ear as you pushed down on the bullet wound in his abdomen, fighting to recall every first aid lesson you learned in high school and college. Pressure – actively bleeding wounds needed pressure, so you’d put your weight on your hands as the party music pulsed through the cracked-open door you thought you’d slip back through after the usual handoff. But instead of taking a thumb drive or notebook and getting a little tipsy before calling it a night, you tried pushing his soul back into his body as the blood welled up between your fingers.

You tried. It wasn’t enough.

The body already smells. You didn’t know corpses stank so quickly after death. Now you do. It was a gut wound. Maybe it’s his last meal you smell, turned half to shit in his bowels.

Fuck.

You need to run. You need to get out of the alley. You need to stand up and wipe the blood off your hands so you can slink onto the Tube without getting the cops called on you.

With a clear series of actions in mind, everything switches to autopilot, and you move without really meaning to. His jeans work as a towel for the worst of gore, and a discarded wad of bar napkins near the door are clean enough to sponge away the red from between your fingers. Rust colored stains linger around your fingernails, but your dress has pockets – something you’d thought absurdly wonderful a few hours ago – and hopefully no one will be looking that closely, anyway.

Your numbed legs wobble as you approach the main street, making you look a little drunk without conscious effort, and you slip into the current of university students and tourists heading to the Underground. You board a train back towards your hostel, and pat your pocket as you sit, subconsciously checking for the intel. Of course, it’s empty, and a spike of panic flairs in the split second it takes you to remember there is no physical evidence this time. Your contact broke the rules and poured dangerous secrets into your naked ears. The mole was compromised. The dead drop became a little more literal and a lot more dangerous, and the man barely had enough time to pass his info on by word of mouth to the next link in the chain. That link, the handler, scurried away with a hole in his gut and just enough time to meet you, the courier, passing along word of the threat like a burning coal to scorch you.

You aren’t supposed to know anything, but you can’t keep your eyes closed and your hands clean, because you’re the only one who knows anything at this point.  Every safeguard between you and immediate danger is dead.

It isn’t supposed to work this way. You’re just a courier, a very literal civilian who can add a USB drive to her collection without suspicion on your way through customs. A digital nomad with lots of stamps in her passport and dozens of good reasons to be in any convenient country. Nobody important, but a very useful mule.

Keeping your eyes off the data you carry is supposed to keep you safe.

In theory.

In practice if keeps the people you deliver to secure. You don’t get names. You get meeting times or dead drop coordinates. But tonight…

Tonight it’s all gone to shit.

And somewhere out there, someone wants you dead.

You don’t even flinch when the man across from you heaves into the middle of the carriage. Everyone else cringes and shouts, but the specs of vomit on the tips of your ankle boots aren’t the worst thing to touch them in the past hour.

Those filthy shoes march with you from the train, up the stairs to the surface, down the lane to the cheap hostel where you’ll have space to fall apart and figure out what the fuck you’re supposed to do. You don’t leave bloody footprints as you move; you check over your shoulder to see if you’ve left a path for the killers to follow. Nothing. Like you’re just one of the backpackers cackling over drinks in the lobby common area.

You’ve never been more grateful for having splurged on a private room as you unlock your door and sprint for the toilet. It’s your turn to puke, and you shake as burning tears and snot stream out with the bile.

Fucking dammit.

Each heave wracks your gut, your chest burns, and your throat is on fire. You know your head will hurt the second the adrenaline wears off – if you live that long – after all this crying.

How do you fix this? Is this something people can fix? You couldn’t even keep enough blood in the man’s body. You literally could not run for a solid – what? – fifteen minutes? Thirty?

You’re going to die.

Another heave locks you in place with a strangled scream as your belly tries to eject your panic and fear. There’s nothing left, though, not even water. You’ve wrung yourself out, so maybe it won’t smell as much when bullets, or knives, or fucking plastic shivs aerate your torso. Maybe it won’t be as awful for whoever finds your body. You’d hate to pass on that curse.

And it hits you, as you pant for breath, a string of saliva dangling from your chin: A lot of other people are going to die if you don’t get yourself together.

That’s enough. Just barely. But you shuffle back from the toilet, wiping your face with toilet paper before climbing the sink. The cool porcelain grounds you, and the cold water on your face and in your mouth helps, too.

The water in the basin turns pink, and you remember the blood in your cuticles and under your nails as it fades and spins down the drain. It hasn’t stained. It lingers along the bed of your nails and the ridges that will turn into hangnails eventually, but if you scrub, you’re sure you can get it off. For a minute, you’d forgotten you could wash blood off skin, that it wouldn’t sink in and brand you. It’s a relief. A stupid relief, sure, but it pulls some steam from the whirlwind of angst trying to launch another round of dry heaves, so that’s good.

A few specs of glitter still flicker up at you, twinkling under the bathroom lights like so many little eyes.

Okay.

Right.

Okay.

You can do this.

Figure out what it is you’re doing first, though.

You can just leave. Check out of the hostel, get a new plane ticket, and get the fuck out of the country. You can also pretend it didn’t happen, just continue as normal. Your original flight back is booked for the day after tomorrow, which seemed like nothing a few hours ago. Now those hours stretch into oblivion.

The problem is this damn city. London. City of a thousand cameras. The Nanny State. It was almost impossible to get around without getting caught by a few dozen electronic eyes, and if the people powerful enough to take out two trained agents wanted to see who the handler met in the alley outside the club, they probably could.

You should assume as much, at least. So, staying was out. But was it safe to just zip off to the airport? Would they be watching?

There was one other option. The option you’d always been told wasn’t really an option until you had no other choice. They had you memorize a phone number, only to be used in the direst emergency, and insinuated that you should think twice even if you had a knife to your neck. You hope that means it reaches someone important. There’s no time to play climb-the-chain-of-command.

Your shaking fingers punch the wrong numbers three times as you struggle with smooth glass and shattered nerves, but eventually you get the right sequence, you lift the phone to your ear, and the call goes through.

A click. A woman’s voice. “Yes?”

“This is, uh.” You stammer your name, your location, but when you get to the situation, your thoughts start falling apart. “They’re dead. And he may have been followed? And I don’t know what – I don’t know what to do.”

A chair squeaks on the other end of the line, and you can hear the focused frown sharpening the stranger’s words as computer keys rattle. “Take a breath. One thing at a time. I need to understand what’s happening. Now, who’s dead?”

You follow her advice, because breathing is always a good idea, and you’d like to keep doing it as long as possible. Her other instructions help more, though. They give you a sense of direction, a clear path forward.

“The handler. I never know the names, but he – he’d been shot when he came to the meet, and he said his contact died, too.”

“Was he able to complete the hand-off?”

Cool lips coughing up secrets against your ear, a shaking hand fisted in the front of your dress to keep you close, fingers going slack and falling from your arm.

You hesitate, only a beat, and try to wipe the blood from your memory. “Sort of.”

“Sort of isn’t good enough. Did he give you the intel or not.”

“He told me the intel.”

“He… told you.” She confirms, with tone alone, that this is bad news.

But now you can tell her, and everything will be okay. That’s how this is supposed to work, right?

“He said –”

“This line isn’t secure.” She cuts you off, and the bright hope curdles in your chest. It isn’t over, then. “You need to debrief somewhere safe. You need to get out of that hostel and wait for the team I send to retrieve you, understood?”

“Understood.” You want to shake, purge the anxiety from your system like sweat. The fear vibrates inside your bones, but the phone stays steady in your grip. You’ve turned into a statue, a marble shell wrapped around an earthquake. “Where do I go?”

She gives you an address to a safehouse, tells you how to get there without drawing attention to yourself. Hopefully.

“Any advice?” The chaos inside needs an outlet or distraction, and maybe the woman at the other end of the line can hear that, because she plays along.

“Move fast. Keep quiet. Stay alive.”

Shrugging as you pull on new clothes that won’t draw as much attention as your little black dress, you nod along. “I’ve heard worse tips.”

“You’re a step ahead of anyone trying to track you,” the stranger says. She speaks low and slow, like you’re a skittish horse ready to bolt, and even if you feel marginally infantilized, you appreciate the fragile illusion she weaves: that everything’s under control, that you know what you’re doing, that everything will be okay.

With the last of your things stuffed in your backpack, you grab your room key and head for the door. The hostel has remote checkout. You just need to drop your key in the box. “Leaving for the safehouse now.”

“Good. I need to brief the team coming to meet you. Keep your phone handy, and call me when you arrive.”

“Or if something goes wrong?”

“Or if something goes wrong. Be careful.”

The line goes dead, and you begin your trek through the dark. Stepping out of the warm, lively hostel and into the night feels like stripping naked and jumping into the water with sharks. Sure, the hostel wasn’t a great place to defend yourself, the doors were thin and the locks fragile, but it had walls. It felt safe. Now you’re exposed, and the vulnerability creeps over your skin like ants.

You take a night bus in the wrong direction, laying a false trail in case anyone is trying to follow you through camera feeds. Then you cut across ten city blocks on foot to find a new line heading the right way, and sit in the illuminated interior like a product in a butcher’s display. Dead meat. You feel obvious. Foolish. You’re following the woman’s directions to the letter, but inexperience gapes under your feet like an open pit, waiting for you to trip and fall so far down you’ll never get back up again.

Every stranger reads as a predator. Every camera holds malicious eyes.

It takes thirty minutes to walk to the safehouse from the last bus stop, and you make the journey with a white-knuckled grip on the strap of your backpack and a pulse so loud you struggle to hear over the drumming in your ears. The light pollution blots out the stars, it’s a new moon, and the streetlights only make the shadows beyond their miniscule pools of light darker.

By the time you find the safehouse and fish the key out of the little box hidden in the bushes, your hands are shaking again. The tension crackles like static through your nerves, blunting your focus even as your senses sharpen to the point of discomfort. Is the rustle behind you just that plastic bag rolling down the street, or is someone stalking you? The breeze feels like breath on the back of your neck, and every hair stands on end as you wrestle the key into the lock and trip through the door.

You slam it closed behind you, past caring about disturbing neighbors or drawing attention. This is like walking the long dark hallway to pee in the middle of the night as a child. You know there’s a monster behind you, but if you look it will eat you. If you run it will pounce. And once you reach safety, you gasp for air the same way you do after diving to the bottom of the pool. All you did was walk, but you feel as if you nearly drowned.

Your ass meets the floor, knees folding with the door at your back. Quivering fingers press over your mouth, trying to silence the wavering pants that may just turn into sobs if you can’t stuff them back down.

“Fuck.”

Blindly groping over your head, you find and turn the deadbolt. It takes more energy than it should, and you allow yourself a minute to recover before tugging out your phone and making the promised call.

The woman picks up after the first ring.

“I made it.” You take a deep breath. Let it out again. Your head drops back and your eyes slip shut as your heart gradually stutters down to a reasonable pace. “Locked the door and everything.”

 “Good.” She sounds like she’s smiling, and you wonder if she’s actually amused or doing the whole horse-taming schtick again. “Your escort should arrive inside two hours. Just sit tight, okay?”

You haven’t even turned the lights on. You’re afraid to let anyone know you’re there, and it’s nice to be the one waiting in the dark this time. “I can do that.”

“I’ll let you know when they’re approaching.”

“Thanks.”

She hangs up without pleasantries. And you’re entirely alone again.

In the silence, you listen to distant traffic and a handful of dogs sounding off on the twilight bark. The world waits outside, but you feel like a weed yanked halfway free of the soil. You fit into that steady rhythm yesterday. Maybe you ferried some secrets to try and make the world a slightly better place, but fuck if you weren’t ordinary.

The debriefing is the goal, retrieving the intel you carry. Keeping you alive and relatively safe until that can happen makes sense, and you don’t blame the stranger on for focusing on the immediate issues. But you can’t help wondering what happens after that.

You consider for the first time since the alley that even if everything goes well, you might not make it home.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Black Heart Part 5

Regulus Black AU

Request: Will you write a Regulus x Reader fic where Regulus is older than the reader? She comes to help the Order and Regulus falls in love with her. The relationship isn’t easy because of the war and Regulus’ denial that he would be a good boyfriend.

Summary: Admitting that he was in love had never been something that Regulus wanted to do. Now that you were in his life, Regulus didn’t know how to react. Should he love you or push you away just like he had everyone else?

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader  

Link to Part 4 

_______

When the mention of twins left Dr. West’s mouth, neither Regulus nor yourself was able to move. You were the first to be able to smile. Regulus, meanwhile, stood looking between the doctor and your body.

Twins…did she really say, twins? Twins as in two? What have I done?

Regulus thought. Had you not been standing near him and the realization that you needed a decent reaction popped into his mind; Regulus may have had a panic attack. It was taking all that he had to stay standing vertically.

I can panic later.

Regulus thought before turning to give you a small smile. He could only hope that you were buying his excited act. Maybe he would be excited later? After he lay down and processed exactly what was happening to him…maybe he would feel better…maybe.

“We are in for it now.”

Regulus replied as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. When you kissed his neck, Regulus’ eyes closed.

She’s happy…I can’t ruin this for her.

Regulus thought as he wrapped an arm around your waist. Kissing the top of your head, Regulus took a few deep breaths.

“Yeah, we are.”

You replied before turning to hash out the rest of the small details about future appointments while Regulus moved to sit down.

After a few minutes, you turned back to Regulus with a small smile. It was no secret to you that he was a wreck. In the time that you had been with Regulus, you had learned that he didn’t like anything that wasn’t within his control. Having twins was definitely way out of his control and obvious comfort range.

Give him some grace. This isn’t something that he was prepared for. He wasn’t prepared for one baby let alone twins.

You thought carefully. Regulus sitting in dead silence wasn’t exactly the reaction that you had been hoping for. You were hoping for something more than “we are in for it now” and dead silence but that was what you got.

“Darling, are you ready to go?”

Regulus nodded, standing up.

The two of you walked in silence. To you, the silence was driving you nuts. You needed something from Regulus. How was he feeling? Was he happy? Surprised? Freaking out…like yourself? You needed something.

If he wasn’t happy, it really made the past few weeks all the more confusing. Regulus seemed happy about the pregnancy until this literal moment.

“He’s only shocked.”

While you repeated your previous thoughts over and over like a hopeful mantra…it wasn’t enough. You needed something from him. If he wasn’t happy and didn’t want to be a part of this after all then he needed to let you know. He needed to be honest so he could leave you just as every other man in your life had done.

Maybe it was a dramatic thought but you couldn’t help it. After being left down so many times throughout the years it was hard to be optimistic…especially when the man that you had fallen in love with was acting as if his life was over.

I can do it on my own. I have done everything else on my own so why could I raise a set of twins on my own

You hated the thought of being “on your own.” Why exactly the universe seemed to think that you didn’t need anybody was beyond your power of thinking. Everyone needed someone. Everyone needed someone that they could count on but apparently, you weren’t being given that luxury.

Your eyes rolled up to Regulus’ face as the two of you finally arrived back at Grimmauld Place. He still hadn’t said anything as he reached for the door. His grey eyes were hyper-focused on the door in front of him.

“I forgot the order meeting was here today.”

He commented, softly. When you let go of his hand, Regulus glanced over at you. You weren’t even looking at him at this point.

Fuck, I’ve done it now.

Regulus groaned in his mind. He had hurt your feelings and he knew it. You were hurt and it was all because of him. What should have been a happy day had now officially been shot to hell because of Regulus' inability to know how to react to situations.

“Yeah, I forgot too. Might as well get this over with.”

You replied as you moved to walk inside. Regulus reached for your hand but you quickly moved out of his reach.

“Y/n…”

You shook your head, fighting back tears.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not necessary.”

You quickly walked into another room leaving Regulus alone in the doorway. Regulus sighed miserably before rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck his problem was? For once, he had someone that gave a fuck about him and all he managed to do was hurt you. You hadn’t asked for much. All you wanted was some kind of reaction and he couldn’t give you that.

She’s giving me a family and I acted as if my life were over…good going, Regulus.

He thought miserably. How he was going to fix this, he didn’t know. He had possibly ruined your memory of your first doctor’s appointment.

“So, why are you just standing in the doorway?”

Regulus looked up to see Sirius watching him with his head tilted to the side.

“Because your brother is a mother fucking idiot.”

Regulus commented before rolling his eyes. Sirius was quiet a moment before speaking.

“What did you do?”

Regulus moved to go into the kitchen to find something with alcohol in it. Sirius followed after him totally confused. When you came in nearly in tears, Sirius panicked thinking something was wrong with his niece or nephew-to-be. Now Regulus’ reaction told Sirius it was probably something that his brother caused.

“I reacted badly. I think that I have fucked up big time. God damn, it Sirius! What is wrong with me?”

Regulus sat down and put his head down on the table. Sirius stood blinking.

“I am really confused…”

Regulus sat up instantly.

“She’s having twins. Y/n is having twins and I acted as if the word was ending. I acted like that because…because…this is a really shit time to be going and having one baby...let alone two. This stupid war…and every other god damn piece of garbage that is happening…”

Sirius’ mouth dropped.

“Regulus! Good god! You are supposed to be the smart one! Good time or not, Reg, you fucked her and got her pregnant. If Remus was here, he would probably tell you to stop acting as he did.”

Regulus rubbed a hand over his face.

“I know what I did. It's not that I don’t want the babies…what if I fuck up, Sirius? I don’t know anything about being a father.”

“Oh, you will fuck up. That’s the thing, Regulus. There are no perfect parents. I think you and I have had this conversation before. Look, you are just freaking out because you weren’t expecting twins. To be fair, I would have been shocked too. Answer me this, do you love Y/n?”

Regulus frowned.

“Yes, I do.”

“Have you told her that?”

Sirius questioned. Regulus answering that he loved you told Sirius all that he needed to know. If Regulus didn’t love you, he would have never said it. Telling the truth was one thing that Regulus was freakishly good at.

Regulus, meanwhile, nodded.

He loved you. HE LOVED YOU!

Regulus could easily admit that and it amazed him. It was only a few weeks before that Regulus couldn’t even fathom saying “I love you.” Now here he was able to say the three words that never entered his vocabulary. He loved you. Regulus couldn't help but smile at the thought. He was able to love someone! Love wasn't some figment of imagination. It was real and Regulus was able to feel it.

Sirius stood quietly watching Regulus toy with one of his rings. As much as he wanted to reach out and shake Regulus he knew that he couldn’t. Even if Regulus was rough around the edges there were certain times when he needed some gentleness too. Sirius wanted to reach out and ruffle his brother’s curls but knew that would probably earn him a kick in the balls.

“Regulus, you need to talk to her. I haven’t said this but you need to hear it. Y/n has been good for you. You aren’t so…asshole-like. I mean, yeah, you’re still a pretentious prick at points but you are at least tolerable now. You seem happy for the first time in…years. I haven’t seen you this happy since we were kids.”

Regulus rubbed his temples, feeling sicker to his stomach with each passing moment. Sirius was right. Sirius was right and Regulus knew it. You did make him a better man. Everything about you made him want to be better than he was before.

This was exactly why Regulus never bothered with falling in love before. He knew that he would be a shit boyfriend and today was just proof of it.

“I have to do something.

Regulus grumbled. Sirius nodded, sitting down on the table.

“Yeah, you do and you may want to do it quickly too because Dumbledore went and hired that good-looking doctor that Y/n works with. He apparently has A LOT more than friendship on his mind.”

Regulus sat up straight.

“You mean that son of a bitch that she told me not to worry about? Oh, hell fucking no!”

Regulus got up and stormed out of the room and down the hallway to the dining room. He was ready to mop the floor with the Greek doctor if he had to. If this other man thought that he was going to move in on what was his there was another thing coming. Regulus didn’t care if he was on the “good side” now. He would kill the other man, dismember his body, and hide him in a place where not even the crows could find him.

You looked up when Regulus walked into the room looking highly pissed off. His eyes locked immediately on Nicolas.

Oh bloody hell, now what?

You thought as Regulus walked over. His grey eyes were focused on Nicolas without blinking.

“Y/n, I need to talk to you.”

Regulus said as Nicolas turned to look at him with a snarky smile.

“Y/n, is this your boyfriend?”

You sighed. Being stuck in the middle of a “whose dick is bigger” contest was the last thing that you really wanted to deal with. Regulus had pretty much ruined what started as a great day. Now you were moody and feeling ill. The last thing that you really wanted to deal with was Nicolas and Regulus trying to fight each other.

“Yes, Nicolas this is my boyfriend Regulus.”

Nicolas nodded.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Funny, I haven’t heard anything about you.”

You closed your eyes before wrapping a hand around Regulus’ wrist. Had you not been feeling like death, moody, and ready to spend the rest of the evening in tears you may have found Regulus’ jealousy somewhat attractive. He stood perfectly straight with his grey eyes looking fiery.

“Regulus, I don’t feel well. Can we go upstairs for a moment?”

You turned to leave but Nicolas’ next comment made both of you freeze.

“So you’re the father of her child? Funny, how before you came along she seemed happy. Now she looks ready to cry. What did you do to completely ruin her?”

Regulus turned around and started in Nicolas’s direction with his wand out. He had a few choice spells that would make the other man shut his fucking trap.

“Regulus, now.”

You snapped before moving forward to tug him along with you.

Once upstairs and in the comfort of your bedroom, you turned to Regulus with a frown on your face.

“You can’t just go off on any man that I talk to.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“What about men that want to fuck you? I saw how he looks at you and it's fucking obvious. You’re having my babies. If some other man thinks that it's okay to flirt with you then I am going to shove my foot up his ass.”

“Oh, so I mean something to you if someone else is looking at me. I see how it is.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as Regulus clenched his hands tightly. He needed to get a grip on himself.

“You do mean something to me.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it. You are acting like your damn life is over because we are having twins. I understand being in shock but you didn’t even say anything other than we are in for it. What kind of response is that? Is this how it's going to be? I don’t even think that I matter to you at all unless my legs are spread for you. Regulus, I am not being stuck in some loveless relationship just because we are having kids together.”

Regulus held a hand up.

“I never said that I didn’t love you.”

When you started laughing, Regulus couldn’t help but be confused. Was what he said funny? He didn’t think so.

“Yeah, you never have told me how you felt at all.”

You sat down on the bed unable to look at Regulus’ pain-filled face. Running a hand through your hair, you wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“Y/n…”

Regulus started but stopped when you held a hand up to silence him.

“Regulus, just leave me alone. The day has already been ruined and I can’t deal with you right now.”

“Fine.”

Regulus said coldly before turning and storming out of the room. He didn’t want to leave you but he felt as if he had no choice at the moment.

“Master Regulus?”

Regulus heard Kreacher’s voice as he reached the bottom step. He turned to see Kreacher coming after him.

“Yes, Kreacher?”

Regulus asked. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling…rage… embarrassment…maybe anger at himself for his poor actions of the day.

“Master Regulus, Kreacher wanted to let you know that Mistress Y/n is crying. Kreacher isn’t sure what is wrong but she seems very upset.”

Regulus wanted to yell. He wanted to cram his fist through a wall...that wouldn’t fix anything, however.

“Just let her cry and leave me alone.”

Regulus turned and walked into the sitting room slamming the door behind him without another word.

______

@amelie-black @jessyballet @knreidy1 @georgeweasleydumbhoe @acciosiriusblack @siriuslyceleste @darkenwolfie @livshifts  @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @justfinishthis @stelleduarte @millies0bsimp @coffeeaddictednymph @rogue-nyx88 @readtomeregulus @starsval @daddyslittlevillain @panpride @f4iryluvy @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @s-we-e-t-t-ea @buttercup-beeee @saramaple @i-love-scott-mccall @padf00ts-l0ver @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @quinis @goldensunshineshit @haroldpotterson @aurorasnape12 @ad-astra-again @dumybitch @mentally-unstable-hoe @yousmellllikecaca @lostarc24 @play-morezeppelin @ravenhood2792 @un-lovesherself @rubyroscoe1 @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @melaninnbarbie @criminalyetminimal @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @moldy-old-boot @hankypranky @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @deanwherescas @li0nh34rt @tas898 @sprnaturallover @wontlookaway @shitfaceddaniel-blog @marichromatic @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mycuddlycorner

[acertainmoshke]

I Don't Fall

(This, unlike what I normally write, is actually a snippet about my own life as a disabled person not being listened to. It's kind of a rant in the form of prose. It happened a few years ago and I am not 25 anymore, but present tense felt right).

“How often do you fall?”

The question catches me off guard and I contemplate how to answer while staring at my stripey songs, wiggling my toes against the worn carpet. I’m sitting in an unfamiliar doctor’s office, in a tiny hot exam room, trying to talk to a doctor I don’t really know. He’s older, probably more than 70, and seems friendly, but I’m not sure he’s heard anything I’ve said.

“I…don’t really?” I stumble, ironically. I wasn’t expecting this. I don’t have an answer ready.

I think of all the times I didn’t fall, of the care I had to take to lift my foot up a curb, of scooting down the stairs on my butt. I think about getting stuck at the top of our outdoor steps in high school because they had no railing, 10 feet from the door but unable to make it. I think about my mother knowing how bad I’m feeling by whether I slur, my tongue growing clumsy with the rest of me. I think about spilling water, coffee, beer all over me and the couch and the floor because my hand didn’t go where I meant to send it. I think about being afraid to ride a bike or go hiking in case I have a balance spell and get stuck. I think about being mortified to admit I have to sit down because I can’t keep walking. I think about forcing my body into slow motion so that I won’t fall.

I don’t tell him any of this. Maybe he doesn’t give me the chance, or maybe I just can’t get my thoughts together in time. I won’t be sure later. The neurologist moves on with a little “hmm.”

He has me stand and walk across the little room in a straight line, toe to heel, while he watches. When I ask if I should close my eyes or not look at my feet, he says no it’s fine.

I know that if I can see my feet I can choose carefully where and how to place them. I know that I spent years learning how to move in a way that mimics normality, and that I can’t help it now.

I know that when I walk across the room I only wobble a little. Today, in all the unfairness of the universe, is a good balance day.

The neurologist says “hmmm” again and leaves to get some printouts. I fidget while I wait, hating myself for not explaining this well enough.

He returns and hands me papers on two of the most common neurological balance issues, cerebral palsy and muscular dystrophy. I know before I walk back through the tiny waiting room and into the scorching little parking lot that I don’t have either. I know that I told him this has been an issue since I could walk, and I know I told him that it’s never gotten better or worse, and I know I told him that it’s episodic and sometimes I can balance almost normally.

I google both in the car to double check my memory, but neither comes close to what I tried to describe. He didn’t even mention Meniere’s, which is at least in the right genre of problems. I sit in the car with my head on the wheel until I get too hot not to turn on the AC. I ignore the growing wobbliness and the slowed reaction time that comes with it. It’s not so bad that I can’t drive today.

Later, with no other research to go on, I will look up every possible thing related to the information he handed me, and I’ll stumble across something called episodic ataxia that describes in perfect detail my sudden spells of weakness and imbalance that can last for hours, worsened by fever or strong emotions like anxiety. I will even be able to narrow it down to type, although it helps that 6 of the 8 types are so rare as to only be identified in one or two families in the world. I will learn there is a genetic test for it, but I will not call that neurologist again. The struggles I’ll end up having with insurance over payment will mostly be a convenient excuse.

I know that my grandmother was diagnosed with Meniere’s mostly to have some sort of diagnosis, and that she loses her balance so badly that her husband has had to carry her to the car before. I know that my father has spells like mine—although I’ve never known him to be unable to drive so I suspect mine are worse—and was so careful not to talk about it that he accidentally taught me to hide my own spells. I know my mother was upset when she learned how bad it had been for years.

I know there was a doctor at 7 who told my mother nothing fit but Meniere’s, except I was too young for it. I know there was a doctor at 18 who told me nothing seemed wrong with my brain and he had no answers. I know there was a doctor at 22 who told me it definitely wasn’t Meniere’s because I’m not going deaf. I know that at 25 I’ll be happy just to have a label—which I had to find myself—and give up on doctors having a solution.

[toukatan]

You read every gojohime fic???? That's amazing!!! What are your favourites?

hello anonie! i guess i can say i’ve read at least a good 80% of all the fics, at least. probably. most likely because the fic tag at the start of the year was tiny and now the community’s grown so much there’s almost 600 of them. that’s insane to me. like hello?

i have a lotta fics that come to mind, that i should honestly make a master post on because i love them all. so here are a few many that came to mind immediately as i typed this up.

gojohime fic recommendations!

multichapter

limitations by ohmytheon 

“Parenthood chooses you," her mother used to tell her, but Utahime never understood that saying more than the moment she realized she was pregnant with Gojo Satoru's child. They were never meant to be something serious - never meant to be more than they were - and yet they both suddenly find themselves in a world that doesn't care about their desires - and that brings them closer in a way that no one else can understand. It won't be easy and it won't be kind to either of them, but it appears as if the universe has other plans for them

no one is what they were before by ohmytheon 

The world broke when Gojo Satoru turned on jujutsu society. It's not the hopeful place it was before, but Utahime has never been one to give up. Until she's placed in a dangerous position directly in his path, and she finds herself trapped in a web that doesn't seem intent on ever letting her go.

and touch me like you never by ohmytheon 

In public, Gojo is a special grade bastard, especially to Utahime, and has been all their lives. He knows exactly what insults to throw and what buttons to push to drive her up a wall. In private, however, he's got quite a few other things to tell and show her, which only makes things more confusing. It would be easier if she could avoid him entirely, but for some reason, he won't let her go entirely.

gravity by aerfei

This is Utahime, fierce and indomitable, and this is Satoru, who despite holding the world’s regard, still craves something that Utahime has had all her life. Coming together is sometimes an act of desperation, and sometimes a deliberate choice. Or: An Iori Utahime character study, through the lens of her relationship with Gojo Satoru, starting from the beginning and ending at the Goodwill Event arc. Manga spoilers and (at least 95%) canon-compliant through (at least) chapter 135.

count every single leaf in autumn by florieneofthesea

“I told my family we’re dating.” Utahime’s hand hovers over the door. “What?!” (or: Gojo tells his family that he's dating Utahime to get them off his back, so of course they invite her to the dreaded family dinner™)

favourite colour by otherthingsonhold

At 28, Satoru Gojo's responsibilities only start to multiply. With his clan looking to him to lead the family, and the balance of the universe in his hands, Gojo isn't thinking of much else. But when his mother brings something to his attention, the only thing Gojo can do is follow through. But how is Utahime Iori part of all of this?

gojo catoru by ashittywriter

Utahime is tasked to catsit a suspiciously large Persian dollface cat with pristine white hair, the most boop-able nose, and to top it off the cutest cerulean eyes. Too bad the cat also happens to be her idiotic colleague Gojo Satoru.

at the tail-end of spring by florieneofthesea

Utahime doesn't expect to remember her ex's number off by heart but it comes in handy when she's a little less than sober outside a club in a city she's not familiar with and her battery on three percent. She just wishes things turned out differently for them. (Or, post-break up exploration where outer forces refuse to let them have their happy ending.)

a second chance by onewordmore

In another world, it wasn't Geto who sneered down at humanity, regarding them to be worthless monkeys that deserved to die. In another world, it wasn't Geto who openly defied the Jujutsu Council and brought down terror and fear to all. In another world, it wasn't just Amanai Riko who died that day, amidst the cheers and delighted cries of the insane. And Utahime was going to learn, first hand, the consequences of her own death.

from you to me by onewordmore

A drabble series regarding Gojo and Utahime. From fluff to smut to angst to love. This is going to have it all.

oneshots

oceansize by aerfei

The marriage is arranged by their families, small clans both, with all their hopes and traditions laid gently upon the shoulders of their only heirs -- and yet, this distance is impassable.

under the cover of darkness by ohmytheon

It takes a little alcohol, early morning hours, and a game of truth or dare for Gojo and Utahime to admit some difficult truths to each other.

risk/reward by ohmytheon 

No punishment had ever been more effective in making Gojo do his actual job than receiving praise from his secretary - or more grueling than when Utahime withheld it.

like a good roommate by ohmytheon

Utahime has a problem: her bed wasn't delivered to the new apartment. Her ridiculous roommate, Gojo, has a solution - but he's kind of panicking on the inside.

aware of us by halspur 

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Gojo put his phone down after taking several dozen photos of Tsumiki walking across the stage, his eyes soft. “I mean, we were just kids, too.”

love song by halspur

“Because you’re weak.” Gojo said, muffled into the thin skin of her throat. “I can’t leave you alone.”

tear you apart by halspur

“I don’t want to be mean to you,” Utahime’s cheek was pressed into his spine, her voice muffled. “I like you.”

cuddles are for clean boyfriends by just_trying_my_best_everyday

Utahime finds Gojo Satoru sitting right behind the door, blindfold hanging on his neck, completely soaked in blood and petting her cat with both hands. And he stinks.

honey by florieneofthesea

Gojo Satoru experiences love a decade before he fully realises it.

roots by florieneofthesea 

At the start of winter, Utahime starts to cough up blood. She thinks maybe its just the lingering damage from her last mission, but the coughing persists and it starts to scratch her throat, and itch at her lungs and when she finally makes the trip to Tokyo to ask Shoko for her help, she doesn't even get the first word out. Shoko welcomes her at the entrance to Tokyo Metropolitan Technical School and Utahime hacks up a single, pale blue petal, smattered with blood. She stares down at the flora on the ground and wonders if she's been cursed. Utahime looks up, and Shoko's eyes are wide.

to have and to hold by ashittywriter

“M’sorry," Gojo said his voice slurring at the end. "But please go away, I have a girlfriend." Utahime blinked in confusion. What the fuck? 

souvenir by PrettyKittyLuvsU

“Aha!” Gojo tugged something out of his pocket, his long fingers curled around it as he held his hand behind his back. His other hand waved before him, a cheeky grin splitting his lips. “Ora, ora! Hold out your hand.” Utahime stared flatly. “Ora, ora!” Gojo persisted, continuing to wave his hand as he grinned. “Hold out your hand already!” Utahime scowled at the hand swaying infront of her face. She had half a mind to slap the man instead, but her students were closely watching. Even Gojo’s students, the second years mainly—for Sukuna’s vessel was apologizing profusely as the brown haired girl continued kicking him while the quiet one made no effort to stop her— looked in fascination at whatever ridiculous souvenir Gojo wanted to hand her. Utahime slowly lifted her arm, already planning on throwing the thing back in Gojo’s annoying face. Gojo gets Utahime a very special kind of souvenir. Set during the start of the Goodwill arc.

dayum this exposes me huh? i do be reading a lot but what can i say i love to see it. all these fics are amazing, to the writers y’all are doing fantastically like my goodness you be really putting ya girl in a loop with some of these fics with your plot-lines and doing it flawlessly. can’t thank them enough for them, their hard work and time!

be sure to show the writers some love and support with comments, bookmarks and fight that dayum kudos button when it smiles at you because lemme leave more—

i think they’d really really appreciate it when they hear the bing and be sure to check out all of their stories including the ones in the pairing tag! happy readings 😙✨

[maxwell-grant]

Who's your favorite Batman villain?

The Penguin. Was gonna put off this ask for a bit but I got surprised today with an incredible rendition of him, so now the dastardly bumbershoot waddled and squawked his way into my thoughts again and I gotta talk about him.

Penguin's not just my favorite Batman villain, he's my favorite DC character and comic book supervillain, the main reason I even want to write a Batman story someday.

I love the imagery that surrounds him, the trick umbrellas and the birds he so lovely dotes after and the WAKs and the Iceberg Lounge, which has become maligned in recent years as a sign of his downfall, but I very much appreciate as a concept in general still. I love a lot of the performances and actors who've taken him over the years. Burgess Meredith and Danny DeVito are some of my favorite performers of all time, Paul Williams has a wonderful voice and starred in my favorite film of all time. Tom Kenny, David Ogden Stiers, Robin Lord Taylor, Penguin's just had such great, terrific performances and adaptations. Batman Returns is my favorite Batman film by far and it was what got me to start paying more attention to Oswald.

I love the roles he can play in any given Batman story and how he's managed to endure all of his falls from grace by becoming an indispensable part of Batman's worldbuilding. I love his varied dynamics with Batman and Riddler and Catwoman and Gordon and his henchmen and those who get close to him. I love his style and the way he conducts himself when he's allowed to be more than just a generic mob boss. Penguin's design has, by simply staying unchanged over the decades, gone from "common rich person wear draped over a funny cartoon gangster" to "he is so out of touch and desperate for respectability that he dresses like an 1930s capitalist caricature, like a little kid's idea of what a rich and respectable man looks like, and Penguin's still stuck in that mindset". I love how absurd and plausible he is.

I like that Penguin can very easily fit just about any kind of Batman story, from the campy supervillain plots to the gritty urban crime ones. You can tell stories about Penguin falling in love, pretending to be legit because he doesn't want his aunt to learn he's a criminal, and opening up a comedy act with a talking penguin, or stories about Penguin terrorizing the city with giant robots and guided missiles and driving people to suicide. I like that he's a character who both relishes in his lifestyles of supervillain and crimelord alike, and yet is perpetually restless because the minute he acquires what he wants, he immediately starts wanting something else. He could have Batman and the Batfamily and all other supervillains wiped out and have Gotham in his pocket and maybe even become President of the United States, and he'd still want more. Because Oswald is nothing but wants, the wants of a traumatized manchild in a funny costume throwing money and toys and brute force and tantrums at the world until it makes sense, which only makes him far too fitting as a Batman villain.

Everyone forgets that Penguin was canonically the first villain to ever successfully escape Batman at the end of a story, completely bypassing the usual "villain swears revenge behind bars" ending to instead escape scot-free, and went on to establish himself as one of his biggest, most inventive and most cunning villains, second only, if not equal, to Joker. I love that he's ruthless and inventive and classy and cunning and brutal and how his main trick is using the fact that everyone underestimates the short fat man to his advantage. He's taken traits that got many of us in real life relentlessly tormented for them, and he uses them to pull the wool over those who think they are better than him.

It'ss a trick that works because even in real life people can't stop looking at this weird and silly little man and think "that guy's too silly for a Batman villain, he's not a murder clown or musclebound monster, what's he gonna do" and, yeah, that's the point, that's been the point from day one, he doesn't look scary or intimidating or even that evil, and he's the guy who pulls the rug under supergenius fighting machine Batman and becomes the top crimelord of Gotham City, a city ruled by terrors and manias and monsters infinitely bigger and scarier and stronger than he is, and he STILL made it to the top and he STILL maintains it, time and time again even when newer and flashier and scarier villains come and go. Batman is, at it's core, a fundamentally absurd character, and Penguin acts as a reminder of that. Because the minute we accept a man can terraform himself with training and money into a living legend on the level of gods, there's no reason why a tiny fat man with similar drive and resources can't likewise throw his weight with monsters and warriors far above his station.

Despite how ridiculously often he's disrespected by writers and fans alike, how far he's fallen off his former position in Batman's Rogues Gallery, and how often he's used as just a punching bag for assorted Bat-people, Penguin never goes away. He's the biggest survivor of all of Batman's villains, more so than the genuinely immortal ones, because he's the cockroach that won't go away no matter how many times you flush it.

Because once you get past the piles of money and the lounge fortresses and the armies of goons and the piles of cartoony gadget toys not too dissimilar from Batman's own, what the Penguin has is brains, and spite and hatred on a scale no other Batman villain has. He hates Batman, because Batman is nothing but yet another bully who thinks he can push Oswald around just because he's bigger and stronger. He hates the lower class for it's unsophisticated brutes and boors that made his childhood hell. He hates the upper class that's rejected and also tormented him since infancy, that he desperately spent so long trying to be a part of. He hates the monsters and supervillains he works with and has to associate with to stay alive. He hates the city that he fights to rule over tooth and nail.

And although he may never admit it, he hates himself, because he'a short paunchy man with a beakish nose who's brutal and immoral not just because those are the cards life dealt him, but because he likes what it affords him too much to give it away. Because he's never going to have the love and acceptance he desperately craves, he will never be able to accept it or keep it. Because he can never fully be a gentleman, or a monster, but instead a sad mix who belongs in neither of their worlds. Because at the end, he doesn't look like anyone else. He looks like one of him.

And still, I like Penguin because he's a Gentleman Villain. The one Gentleman Villain of Batman's rogues gallery, even if that's faded from a lot of his recent appearences that pushed the crimelord aspects to the forefront. He dresses like a gentleman thief, he's canonically a huge A.J Raffles fan, he's one of the most cunning brains of Gotham, he's got the money, resources, and adventurous spirit. Problem is, he's The Penguin. And suddenly, all that he has becomes overblown, outlandish, theatrical, and out of touch purely because it's him trying to do all those things. He's a gentleman adventurer gone rogue, the Count Fosco of the DCU, and that only makes it amusing, even endearing, when Penguin does engage in the swashbuckling antics he's so fond of.

When all his plans go to hell and so he starts fencing Batman, or when he commands henchmen with superflous fancy language, or even when Oswald gives the whole "hero" thing a shot and we see he's actually not bad at it, maybe he actually could have been one if it wasn't for the bile drowning his heart and the hellscape that warped innocent young Cobblepot into Gotham's Penguin, a name that immediately denotes something silly and ridiculous, and he carries it with pride, because he will make you respect that name.

And that's just a couple of reasons. I really, really love this character to the point of obsession and the main reason why I ever wanted to write stories for DC was to get to write Penguin and at least try to do the character a little more justice. But if nothing else, Penguin endures, regardless of what happens to him, in and out of universe. If nothing else, that's a very admirable quality in a supervillain. Oswald is the best.

[notnctu]

POV | PART TWO

━ ❝ i’d love to see me from your point of view.❞

❀ lee donghyuck x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, fluff! angst, (optional smut is marked with ****) ❀ details - best friends to lovers!au, college!au, ft. best friend mark, slice of life?, inspo by pov by ariana grande ❀ word count - 6.1k ❀ warnings - swearing, dangerous reckless behavior, fingering, penetration, public?sex?, unprotected, slight dirty talk ❀ synopsis - Donghyuck gradually falls in love with you, his best friend, through unprecedented intimate moments that reveal more than what meets the eye and a drunken shared kiss on your birthday makes him realize how hard he’s fallen for you. You’re oblivious to it all, trying to indulge and seek a one true love through bad tinder hookups or men you meet at the club, all to only end in self doubt that Donghyuck has to reconcile. And he always tells you what you need to hear, while also leaving out the part where he so badly wishes you can love yourself the way he loves you.

❀ a/n - make sure you read the first part as it’s a continuation! please please leave me feedback, i would really appreciate it :) this is going to be my last long fic for the time being! thanks for dealing with my spam for the past few weeks after months no of writings <3

READ PART ONE

Donghyuck thought about that kiss every night since it happened, yet knowing you didn’t do the same. How unfortunate it was, when he panicked waking next to you in the morning and wondering if you were to confront him about it. However, there was nothing, no follow up. You didn’t remember it and he couldn’t tell if the sigh that left his mouth that morning was out of relief or despair. 

Regardless, that became his epiphany and the more his love for you grew, the more he wished to be around you for all his days. Donghyuck jumped at every text message, picking up the phone to see if it was you and noting the disappointment in his heart whenever it wasn’t. He found himself smiling whenever your name was brought up, fondly thinking of how you make his heart race. 

The moments that you were together, he swears on every universe that he’s the happiest he’s ever been. There’s something about you that makes him want to believe in love, and it’s not because of your unrealistic desires to find one. As selfish as he came to be, he wanted you all to himself and to be the sole reason behind your smiles.

“No Mark?” Asking as you hop into Donghyuck’s car, the clock on his dash reading the red digital numbers 2:12 A.M. 

“Why can’t we just hang out for once?” He whines, but hopes that it’s playful enough to where you can’t tell that he’s actually serious. Donghyuck hears your melodic chuckle and everything inside him rumbles with glee and satisfaction. 

He steals quick peeks over at you in the passenger seat, greedily taking in your appearance. “That’s not exactly how a throuple works, but I’ll let it pass. Mark never has time for us anyways.” 

There is something so intimate about the late nights; the outside world is dead in its sleep and vulnerable to chaos. The streets are completely empty and it truly feels as if it’s you two against the city. It brings no regulations, easy escapes, staying up all night to feel something the day can’t give you. 

You are the perfect person to spend them with. You’re the very definition of a good feeling, where he’s forgetting all his bad days and soaring through the heavens. The most accurate human form of excitement, the adrenaline and sweetest thrills that run throughout his body. 

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to do…” As Donghyuck pulls into a gas station parking lot, the small convenient store is brightly lit with a blinding white sign that reads a popular chain establishment. 

Hyuck blinks at you curiously, head tilt and waiting for you to finish your sentence. Getting out of the car, you stand on your toes and rest your chin on the roof of his car to speak directly to him, “you know that big intersection over on 34th Boulevard?” He catches the mischievous twinkle that shines in your eyes and a grin so fearless fits your face perfectly.

He nods, spinning his car keys on his finger and walking up to the store. But he’s looking back at you with eyes that ask for you to proceed with him, and you’re running towards him with a sudden youthful energy and a jump in your step. 

Your hand latches onto his arm and his gaze drops momentarily to follow it, “I’ve always wanted to just run down the middle of it. To run down a busy traffic area when it’s empty, knowing that this would be the only opportunity to do it without getting run over.” 

“Is that what you’re suggesting we should do next?” Hyuck opens the fridge and grabs his favorite prepackaged ice cream cone. Your grip on his sleeve tightens, your dazzling eyes never leaving his.

He hands you a random popsicle and you take it mindlessly, your train of thought still trying to convince Hyuck to embark on achieving this new thrill of yours. “If you didn’t have anything else planned…”

“Am I some Fairy Godmother? Granting your wishes to come true?” Using sarcasm to hide his undying desire to scream yes! may be the best thing he’s learned to utilize. However, you don’t need to beg any more when a small smile curves at his lips. He’s more than convinced.

“Ah, a happy couple. You two look great together.” The rather talkative cashier compliments while he rings up the icey treats. 

Just before Hyuck can clarify, you’re pulling him closer by the arm and using your fake saccharine smile. “The best boyfriend ever!” His throat freezes, but he’s following your lead closely. Confusion wandering his thoughts, but heart swelling at your usage of the word boyfriend to reference him. 

The friendly stranger laughs wholeheartedly at your giddy act, completely falling for your overplayed nature of a lovey dovey girlfriend. “He always buys me what I want, like this ice cream. He knows it’s my favorite.” You blink innocently up at him, but he finally understands your malicious motive.

Shooting a glare at you, he complies silently and pulls out his card to pay for both of your treats. “Right. Anything my baby wants.” He says the pet name so easily that it shocks him a bit. 

“Hey, you’re a good man.” The clueless cashier smiles even wider and prints the receipt. With a simple gratitude, you both exit the store and you’re laughing the loudest form of mockery.

Jumping into the car, Hyuck is quick to roll his eyes. “He always buys me what I want.” He imitates your previous statement with a silly voice. “I can’t believe you robbed me.” 

The ridiculous scheme actually managed to work, leaving your stomach to hurt from the intense fit of giggles. “My baby? Where did you learn that?” You say between your spurts of laughter.

Heat rises up his neck, slightly embarrassed. “So what? Nicknames are cute.” He admits bashfully, while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. 

Your chuckles die down and you’re leaning over the middle console to get a closer look of his expression. “Really? Didn’t think you were the type. You never used them with your exes.” 

“Around you.” A cringe runs down your spine when you witness Hyuck bite his ice cream, settling back in your seat with a grumble.

“Pet names in private.” Now, his palms grow a bit slick with perspiration. “That’s endearing.” Unwrapping your melting popsicle, you don’t probe him more about the subject. Instead, Hyuck turns up the stereo to drown out any more talk about romantic gestures.

After several rounds of finding street parking, Hyuck finally swerves into a spot situated just before the large six-way intersection. The traffic lights blink in view at the end of the street and in the darkness, there are no cars around. An unfamiliar scene, this place is nothing but a wide open road with five lanes that meet in the middle and lead to six different directions. The white painted lines that divide up the road are as chaotic as it looks during the day filled with traffic.

Nonetheless, you are right. There is no other chance to see it so dead, so empty, so free. 

And you’re already hopping out of the car that Hyuck breaks his daydream and hurries after you. Standing the middle of the road is a dangerous scheme, yet these are the thrill seeking moments that you crave too well. 

Extending your arm out and your palm facing the night sky, you grin enticingly at Hyuck to join you in the middle of the chaotic lines and the adrenaline picks up within him. He, too, matches your smile and lets every form of enthusiasm fuel him. 

“Race you to the end.” Hyuck begins bolting down the long runway, causing you to scoff in disbelief at his sudden challenge. 

The wind that takes flight against his body is crisp on his skin and driving his strands into a wild mess. Turning around, he sees that you’re quick on his tail. However, the one thing that catches his eye… the one thing that makes this moment another one of your most beautiful ones is the utter bliss and peace in your facial expression. 

Eyes are closed and arms are spread out as if you’re letting the wind carry you away. The air slips between the spaces of your fingers and the night is filled with nothing, but your gentle out of breath giggles. 

Donghyuck stops in his tracks right under the colorful traffic lights at your astonishing image. And if you are to open your eyes, you’ll see the marvelous image of your sun waiting for you in the middle of the largest intersection of the city with his mouth slightly agape and marked under a trance.

An exasperated sigh escapes as a puff of smoke and his heart works extra hard to pump oxygen in his veins. In his perspective, the excellent city skyline at the horizon remains your background and you’re running toward him with a breathless joy. Another splitting breathtaking image that will live in his mind for as long as he knows you.

So he throws caution to the wind and though it feels too good to be true, he loves his best friend more than anyone he’s ever come across.

By the end of your rendezvous, you two find a secret rooftop to fully enjoy your silent city. Standing side by side, you both lean with your elbows on the ledge. 

There is something so unspoken and intimate about this very moment, where existing in each other’s presences becomes wholly more comfortable than anything in the world. And this safety allows for vulnerable secrets to spill, for questions that your heart has always been afraid to ask to fall from your lips. 

But you’re not here with just anybody. Donghyuck probably knew what was already on your mind, he just needed you to speak them into existence.

“Hyuck, do you think I’m unlovable?” 

Perhaps, it’s the intimacy that allows for him to talk more confidently about how he views you. Heart over mind, he scoffs in disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’re the most lovable person I know! From your happy giggles to your overall easy going aura. We’re not perfect people, but you’re worth every glance and every praise. I wanted to be with you the very moment you made me laugh.” 

Donghyuck passionately rambles on about your attributes and everything you’ve allowed him to experience over the years of your friendship. While he’s always been there for you, you’re always by his side and making sure he’s living a memorable life. He thanks all his sweetest memories to you, that you are the most impactful person of his entire college experience.

“I came to college thinking I’d have my nose in textbooks all day long, but you fell into my life like an opportunity to escape. I love my nights trying to crush Mark on the leaderboards, but I’d give that up any day to run down a major intersection in the middle of the city with you.” 

With a playful soft chuckle, you say something that practically makes his heart stop and regret oversharing. “You know, from how you describe me… it almost sounds like you’re in love with me.”

“Maybe I am.” He bites the inside of his cheek, unsure what suddenly overcame him. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and he’s anticipating your response, trying every way to decipher the quizzical look on your face. Nevertheless, your hesitation causes him to panic and he intercepts before you can respond. “I meant that as your friend.” 

His heart drops into the pit of his stomach, gaze averting away from you. Lies. Lies. More fucking lies. He should’ve waited to see what you would’ve said. 

Nodding knowingly, you lightly place your hand over his. The warmth of your touch soothes his aching and disappointment. Why is he hurting from a simple look? “I know.” He can’t tell what’s worse, the fact that you truly believe he only loves you as a friend or that you saw right through him and are trying to let him save face. 

“Something happened the night of your birthday that I think I should tell you.” Hyuck sighs out all his frustrations. 

He pulls his hand from underneath yours, “you asked me to kiss you as a birthday favor.” There is no confidence to watch your reaction, his eyes remain focused on the dark city. 

Instead of a painstaking rejection, you laugh wholeheartedly and somehow, he feels much lighter. “And did you?”

“How could I say no to you on your birthday?” Peering over, your fingers softly graze your lips and a wandering look is present in your dazed stare.

“It’s not the first time we’ve kissed, Hyuck.” Smiling at him, Hyuck looks cluelessly at you and doesn’t recall another time. He would’ve remembered. 

“Guess who I stole that same request from?” Your eye lashes bat firmly at him and he gulps at your implied question. There was no way.

“Me? When?” This all causes him to rack his brain of lost files, something he must’ve missed.

Sighing, you bid him a kind smile. “Your birthday party a few months ago. Drunk out of your living mind, you pulled me privately into the kitchen and asked if I could kiss you as a birthday gift.” 

Fuck, no wonder why he couldn’t remember. He didn’t remember a single thing from that night. “It was right after my break up.” 

Nodding, you affirm his realization. “You told me that you felt so lonely, and somehow…. someway… I’ve always made you feel seen. Perhaps, you do the same for me and my drunk ass was bold enough to ask for a similar request.” 

But did you kiss him as if you loved him? With the same amount of love that he did the night of your birthday? 

Nonetheless, you shrug off the topic and move on from it all. “We should go, the sun comes up in a few.” 

Hyuck notes this odd detail. You’re not one to end the nights so abruptly, so it almost seemed as if you didn’t want to speak more about it. 

Perhaps, you did kiss him like you meant it but every fear in your body about loving your best friend stops you from admitting it all. 

Because you shouldn’t love your best friend, but something deep down has always wanted to.

How ridiculous he was to believe that you could ever possibly share the same feelings as him. How foolish he felt the moment you burst into his apartment announcing how you’ve finally found the one after another random Tinder date. 

It’s as the night on the rooftop a week ago didn’t even exist or mean anything to you. But that night ate him up alive, to the point where he sought out love counseling from Mark.

“Oh dude, this is serious.” Mark watches Hyuck pace the room, double around the floorplan with his head in his hands with utter frustration and confusion. You’re the only thing that’s been running through his mind the last few days. 

He grunts and rolls his eyes at how Mark’s face had fallen sullen. “I practically confessed everything I loved about her. It’s pretty serious.”

Mark stands and stops Hyuck by the shoulders, looking dead into his eyes. “I’ve liked her before too and would have done some dumb act to get her to like me back. I get it, Hyuck. So, what do you want to do?”

Donghyuck initially scoffs and tears away from his best friend’s intense stare, “of course you liked her too.” His voice fades out at the end of his sentence. “Mark, I like her so much it’s hard to look at anyone else. She’s…”

“Mesmerizing?” Mark finishes his sentence with a small proud grin on his lips. 

Hyuck couldn’t hold the ridiculous laugh that escapes at how smug Mark looks, but then a silence falls over him. He realizes how perfect that word is to describe you. You are every dazzling trance he’d fawn under. 

“It’s wrong, Mark. She’s our best friend, I can’t ruin us.” Hyuck slumps his shoulders forward and a pout extends. His eyes are wandering the ugly carpet but he’s thinking about every moment you’ve smiled. 

“How did this happen in the first place? I thought you never would’ve liked her…” Mark’s question has Hyuck raking his brain to find his epiphany. “It’s not about your ex, is it? y/n is way too good to be a rebound.” 

“No. This has nothing to do with my old relationships, I genuinely like her… so much.” Hyuck understands the implications in Mark’s sudden abrasive questions. Even it’s difficult for himself to say how it all started and so this has Donghyuck reflecting back on his entire friendship with you.

If only he had noticed your lively smiles sooner, a little earlier, it would have saved him all this time searching for someone who would last. You’ve lasted through every college relationship he’s had and that speaks louder than any confession. 

“I never liked her because I never thought I had a chance. Have you seen her? Our best friend who has 400 matches on Tinder.” Though he blames himself for realizing a little late that he loved you, it was always hard to compete with everyone else. 

“So, what changed then?” 

Hyuck leans against the door to Mark’s room and crosses his arms to contemplate. “Not that I have a chance now, but I can’t hold these feelings back anymore. I want to kiss her until we’re out of breath, to love without any conditions, to be the reason behind her every beautiful moment.” 

Mark raises a confused eyebrow, “but you are.”

“The only reason.” Hyuck speaks his truest desires and Mark coughs aggressively before composing himself. Right, he didn’t stutter one bit. 

So, Hyuck had planned to confess, all until you gave him the very reason he couldn’t. When you showed up unannounced with one of those wide grins that has your eyes shimmering with hope, he just knew something was wrong. All his love and future aspirations were replaced with sheer disappointment and envy.

“I’m falling hard for him.” You begin and your hands are clasped together so innocently. “He brought me to this overlook on a cliff and we just talked for ages. It felt so right and then, he asked to see me again!” Your eyes are completely wondrous and distracted, like the one thought in your mind blocked out everything else. Jumping happily, you’re squealing with excitement thinking about this new person in your life and there is no consideration of Hyuck’s silence.

“That’s… great.” He barely stutters to fill the air and to replace the sound of his heart breaking. He lost you before even getting the chance to even have you. 

“I know right!” You yell joyfully and though your smile is the biggest it's ever been, Hyuck refuses to see this moment as beautiful. He’s no longer looking at you objectively, his bias tainting it all and he sees it in an ugly light. As your best friend, he should be happy for you and rooting for you. He’s known more than anyone else that you have been waiting for someone like this your whole college experience.

However, he can’t feel a single good emotion as you ramble on about your alleged one true love.

“Did you need something?” He cuts you off, growing a bit irritated by your endless praise about a man who never wishes to meet.

Clearing your throat, you take Hyuck’s hand in both of your palms. With begging eyes, you say, “my sister is getting married this weekend and they invited you. 

His hold escapes yours as he walks toward his bedroom, “shouldn’t you invite your new man to your family events now.” It’s difficult for him to hide the bitterness in his voice, but you run up to him and grip his arm. 

“But they think I’m dating you, remember? Plus, my mom referred to you by name. She really likes you.” You snicker, clearly not understanding why Donghyuck seems to be rather distant at the moment.

His ears perk up at the compliment and though it’s a selfish thought, he feels content knowing that he was able to win over your family. So, his heart burns at how your hand slowly travels down to intertwine with his own and how your chin rests on his shoulder lightly. His head turns and he is met a few inches away from your tender lips. For a brief moment, he’s staring at them longer than he should. 

“Come on, Hyuck. Be mine for one more time.” Your whisper is gentle and soft, your breath tickling against his cheek. Despite everything, he loves how you make him feel. It’s always a mixture of happiness and safety. There are no fears with you because you’re absolutely fearless. He can’t imagine how he would’ve opened up without you around, that he puts every form of trust into you. 

So, every little thing that you do. every single passing look. every touch and every spoken word. He falls harder for you every time you simply see him, every time you bat your eyelashes at him. And this love that festers inside of him feels easy and genuine. Perhaps, you’ve been his one true love all along. He’s never felt remarkably seen, where every part is exposed and right at your fingertips. 

And you… have been so patiently waiting for just anyone to steal your heart. How can he let just anyone love you? 

“I’m yours for however long you want me to be.” He lightly ruffles the top of your hair before slightly shrugging you off, afraid that your hold will eventually have him saying other sweet implications. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.” He smirks at your small chuckle, the roll in your eyes.

“At least pretend.” But he really doesn’t have to. He enjoys every moment being yours. 

When the day finally arrived, the grand wedding may have been another day that Hyuck will never forget how beautiful you looked. Prancing out in your bridesmaid dress, you run towards him through the large field of fake grass. He catches you when you jump into his arms, practically failing all over and tripping over the ends of your chiffon dress. He hits the ground, cushioning your fall. 

“Hey..” you grin down at him breathless, hand resting perfectly on his chest as it was the night of your 21st again.

Hyuck gulps and sends you a glare, “I should have dropped you.” 

“That would have been very chivalrous of you.” Sarcasm bites back at him as you push up and off of him. He’s quick on his feet and brushing off any dust from the bottom of your expensive dress, avoiding the long open slit that runs down to expose one leg.

“Donghyuck, you’re looking ravishing.” Your mother steps out, tall and prideful, but with the most delightful expression as she opens her arms to invite him into a hug. 

He leans into it, while cautiously making suspicious eye contact with you. You shrug back, also confused at why your mother has a sudden change in demeanor. “It’s been so long since the holidays.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He bids your mother a respectful smile when she pulls away, to which she absolutely fawns at and you’re tugging at his sleeve to drag him away.

“The pleasure is all mine. You make y/n a better person.” And there is no context that Hyuck understands this single phrase before he’s walking away from your force. Your mother waves a small sweet goodbye as she watches you two leave behind a cobblestone wall behind the large reception building.

It’s covered in long vines that grow up the old stones, a beautiful background for an outdoor wedding. “Rude.” He whispers when you finally stop pulling him away.

“She was starting to say odd things.” You laugh, quite nervously actually. Nonetheless, you shake out of your nerves and a beaming expression replaces your troubles. “So, guess what? I’m meeting my man afterwards.” Yet again, the curve of your lips at the thought of another rumbles his own yearning heart.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looks down while kicking at the loose pebbles on the ground. “Good for you.” grumbles Donghyuck mindlessly.

You don’t notice his low spirits again, you’re talking away about this man as if he’s all you’re consumed with nowadays. On and on, the same speech about how you’re practically ready to give it your all and how he fits someone unimaginable. Eventually, Donghyuck becomes fed up by how your eyes blink up to the sun with another reflection in them. “It’s like you forget who you are when you’re with someone new.” 

And you’re in mid-ramble when you hear his harsh comment that picks aggressively at your skin. It stings, “what?” You cross your arms defensively and raise an eyebrow at him. The tone in your voice is jarringly upset and he opened a can of worms that he isn’t ready for.

Donghyuck swears underneath his breath, looking away at the tall trees behind the small parking lot. “Forget it.” He mumbles, rather frustrated at himself for ticking you off.

“What are you implying?” 

“There is someone that actually makes you a better person rather than someone completely different.” He scoffs, his emotions fueling the worst of him. The words flow from his mouth full of anger and spitefulness. 

Your eyes narrow at him, crossing your arms defensively. “Like you can give me the love you think I deserve? This whole fake boyfriend gimmick has gone too much to your head.”

And his heart is bursting at the seams and all he can see is your angry expression, so he says something he never hopes to regret. Every impulse beats his rationality and in the heat of the moment, Donghyuck confesses, “if only you can see yourself from my point of view and all the emotions I feel when I look at you.” 

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re slightly shocked at his bold statement. You blink cluelessly at him, speechless and deciphering how to respond. The anger fades from the both of you, knowing that the connection you two possess is mutual. Somewhere deep down within you, a light switches on and you’re basking in your sun’s radiance in this moment. 

“Tell me about it.” Your curiosity brings much confusion, but he doesn’t wait a second of hesitation. 

“Happiness, you light up my nights in dark cars with your smile. Trust, there is no one else I’d run down a dangerous intersection with. Courage, being bold enough to dance in a crowded room like no one was watching. Love, when kissing you felt incomparable to anything else in the world. Vulnerability, looking at you and knowing everything about you.” 

Donghyuck takes a cautious step forward toward you. A whirl of thoughts and emotions overwhelmingly flood your heavy mind, but fear no longer holds you back from the one person you’ve always wished to love, harder than any person you’ve ever encountered. “Donghyuck.” 

He freezes at the call of his name, waiting patiently for your next words. “I want to love me the way that you love me... because nobody loves me like you do… even myself. So, I’d love to see me from your point of view.” 

Donghyuck releases the sigh that suffocates him and every firework lights up in his chest. His eyes wander across your canvas and absorb everything wondrous about your features. Even though you’re not entirely smiling, you’re puckering your lips cutely out of embarrassment. And he reassesses how pretty you simply look in your expensive formal chiffon dress and the bold color on your lips that has made you feel good before. 

He thinks aloud, the words leaving his mouth before they can be stopped. “This is your most beautiful moment.” 

When you’re looking up at him to meet his dreamy gaze, a new enthusiasm washes over your entire body. Looking rather inexplicably attractive in his suit, Hyuck stares at you as if you’re all he can see. So, you pull him into the only source of gratitude you can give. A kiss that gives every emotion back to him, one that resembles closely to the one he gave you on your birthday and the one you gave him for his. 

An emotional kiss that tells him more than he can see. He feels it on the tip of your tongue and every ounce of love that rushes over the both of you.

***********

Donghyuck’s wandering hands travel down your waist, over your hips, all until it reaches in between the slit of your dress. His hand instinctively grips at your naked thigh, the feeling of your raw skin driving him wild with impure thoughts. Your hands are quick on his tie, loosening it from around his collar and unbuttoning the first few as you’ve done once before.

“Can,-- Is it okay if--?” Hungry eyes search his face for confirmation, but you’re so lust driven that you’re a stuttering mess. “Do you want this?” 

“Yes.” Says Hyuck without any hesitation. Taking his hand, you’re quick to lead him inside to a more secluded part of the venue. The lavish private bathrooms are brightly lit and he lifts you on top of the marble counters.

“The reception starts in 20 minutes.” You moan as Hyuck kisses down your neck hastily, a hand up the slit of your dress to push your panties aside.

“We’ll make it quick then. I’ll show you love another day.” His knuckle lightly grazes against your erect clit and your grip on his shoulder tightens. Whimpers fall from your lips as your hips mindlessly grind into his hand. “Never took you the type to be so loud.” Hyuck raises an eyebrow and tilts his head mockingly at you.

“This isn’t even close to how loud I can get.” Your statement causes him to swallow hard. Being your best friend, he has kept a rather clear mind from any sexual attraction toward you. He had to know he loved you in order to even see you in that way. 

Gathering your slick, he rubs your clit with two fingers before dipping them into your hole. You lean back into the mirror and prop your feet on the counter to spread open for Hyuck to see. “You let all these idiots fuck your pretty pussy? They don’t deserve you, as a person or a potential partner.” He fingers you deeper and with flicking motions, he hits your sweet spot and causes you to jolt.

“Please, just fuck me. I’ve always wondered how good you’d feel.” His eyes twinkle at your bashful confession, but understands your lustful desires even for your own best friend.

“You think about fucking me?” He asks abruptly, taking his fingers out to suck your juices clean from them. A coined flattered smirk appears on his lips as he unbuckles his belt.

You’re averting eye contact, “well no, maybe just once. I get horny when I’m drunk sometimes.” You admit and he’s rushing to take himself out of his restrictive dress pants. His dick hits the air and he adjusts closer to your dripping core.

And he enters, slowly and slowly inching in so you can adhere to his size. You bite back every yell of pleasure and grip the ends of his dress shirt. Hyuck fills you up deliciously, and you two are connected through bodies beyond any way before. He leans in to give you a sloppy, yet passionate kiss before dragging out his hips and pushing them back in.

There is no guilt, no pain, no sorrows. Knowing Hyuck, he fucks you in the same way he wishes to love you. His hips drive into you passionately and quickly. The time crunch being something that causes him great distraction, but his heart is swelling simply feeling your warmth wrap around him so well.

“My baby is so tight.” Pet names in private. A small grin appears on your face at the sound of the sweet nickname and you pull him closer by tugging his shirt.

“Harder, Hyuck. Don’t hold back anymore.” Moan after moan, Hyuck relentlessly drills into you. His arm is hooked underneath your left thigh to keep it up, and your head keeps banging against the mirror.

Your eyes roll back when his thumb rubs circles on your aching clit. The mixture of both pleasures stimulate you until the build up tension in your stomach begins to reach its peak.

“Cum, I know you fucking want to.” He grunts, keeping the same rhythm that pushes you over your edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly as your legs shake sporadically from your release. You’re smart to cover your mouth, knowing that the bathroom will only echo your erotic sounds. Your chest rises and falls from the momentum and adrenaline that Hyuck helped you reach, breathlessly trying to calm your heart rate down.

After a few more harsh bumps, he pulls out and motions you forward. Jumping off of the counter, you kneel on the ground and suck his tip lightly. Your swirls are enough for him to empty into your mouth, his hot streams of salty liquid hitting the back of your throat. He looks down at you and your wide eyed expression with his cock in your mouth drives him overboard. 

And you swallow, getting up to lightly plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. A lip stain being worn proudly for just a moment. 

“You amaze me.” Hyuck whispers, holding you against his flushed body and fast paced heart beat. 

“Hurry out you two!” A voice startles the both of you with a knock on the door and you two are quick to readjust yourselves. He hopes to love you a little longer next time, without any interruptions.

***********

After the glorious and excruciating long wedding, you’re walking Hyuck to his car in the small parking lot. During the rest of the night, he held your hand the whole way through and the love that he looked at you with was more than real. 

He talked with your distant relatives as if he’s always known them. Hyuck conducted the dinner table, always knowing what to say. There was no doubt in your head that seeing Donghyuck in the aftermath, he was always going to be someone who was going to make things better. 

The love you long searched for, the love that you had been too afraid to touch, intertwined itself so lovingly underneath the white table cloth. Donghyuck is the one and it took needing to see him a bit more to realize. A little more acceptance from the both of you had to be the final straw.

Donghyuck sheepishly scratches the back of his neck when you reach his car, unsure where the path of your friendship will diverge to next. “Have fun on your date then…” His voice trails off, kicking the rocks at his feet again.

There goes your melodic laughter that soothe his aching heart and the familiar gentle grip on his fingertips. You lift his chin up, the both of you seeing each other clearly now.

From his perspective, you’re absolutely dazzling in the low light and butterflies swirl in the pit of his stomach. He can look at you forever, until months turn into years. He can love you until you two grow old. You’re his fearless, beautiful, inexplicably marvelous best friend. And he patiently waits for the day you’ll let him finally be yours.

From your perspective, Donghyuck shines even when the night overtakes the sky and possibly, the warmth in your heart bubbles across your chest. You can stay with him forever, until months turn into years. You can trust him like it’s you two against the world. He is your silly, charming, timidly benevolent best friend. And you’re slowly falling and hoping for the day you get to be his. 

“I’m not going to see him anymore. He’s not the one.” Hyuck blinks at you, full of confusion and shock.

“But you sounded so happy.” His voice gets lost in the stillness of the intimate atmosphere. 

“No, Hyuck. You make me happy and I’ll say it again for you to hear me. Nobody loves me like you do.” Reaching up, your hand caresses his cheek and he falls into your palm lovingly. His heart runs a mile, reaching the greatest high he’s ever going to feel. He hopes his eyes don’t deceive him, but the utter perfection on your face makes him feel whole.

You wish that Hyuck can teach you to love yourself the way that he loves you. 

“Take me home?” 

“How could I ever say no?”

thank you for being patient with me! its finally done and i will be going on a writing hiatus for a bit. housemating and ridin club will come out sometime soon, but i really need to step away from writing for a bit. please understand, thank you for reading :) 

[jeonsjiddies]

Not Afraid | jjk (m)

Summary - Jungkook helps you change your flat tire, and teaches you how to let go.

Word Count -  3816

Pairing - Jungkook x reader

Genre - smut

Warnings -  dom!jungkook, fingering, bondage, breast play, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, rough sex

a/n: another re-write from a previous fandom. :)

Driving home from university on a hot Tuesday afternoon, you sang along to the radio at the top of your lungs.You sped down the highway (still following the speed limit- for the most part. Didn’t most cops give a 5mph grace?) when your car started shaking and swerving. You put your flashers on and pulled over underneath an overpass bridge. You got out and realized you had a flat tire. 

“Crap,” you mumbled, pulling out your spare from the back and staring at it.

You didn’t know how to change a tire. You groaned, kicking the stone wall in frustration. You heard a hissing noise from behind some chipped off stones, and out jumped a snake. You screamed, fumbling away from it. Suddenly, a tall man in a black leather jacket appeared. He fearlessly grabbed the snake by the head so it couldn’t bite him, and walked it over to a grassy area, tossing it free.

“Are you oka-” he began when you threw yourself at him, hugging him. 

Your hands then pressed against his chest. 

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you,” you rushed out.

Being pressed against him felt so good. Your hands slid down his chiseled abdomen slowly, mesmerized. You jumped back to reality, your gaze flickering up to his face, startled. You stood there, frozen, gazes locked together, your hands splayed across the top of his jeans. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” you squeaked, cheeks heating up as you stumbled away from him and his amused expression. 

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was enjoying the show,” he smirked. 

You almost died right then and there. From this new angle, you saw his deliciously tanned skin, deep brown eyes and razor sharp jawline, but soft, round features. He was gorgeous, erotic, he was…

“Jungkook?” you gasped, recognizing the boy from school. 

“Hey, Y/N.” he grinned.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you smiled. “What are you doing here?” 

“I saw you were having car trouble and I stopped to make sure you were okay.”  

You and Jungkook weren’t exactly friends, but you were one of the few people  who didn’t treat him like trash, so you were friendly in classes and the hallways.

“I got a flat tire. I have a spare but I don’t know how to change it.” you sighed.

“I can help you with that. Do you have a jack?”  

“Uh…” you looked in the back and shook your head.

“I do, at my place. Come on,” he motioned to his bike. 

He handed you a helmet and you climbed onto the seat behind him, clutching his torso for dear life. Jungkook’s  body felt so good to touch, it made you hold on a little tighter than necessary. He wasn’t even going that fast. He rode down the highway, turning into his apartment complex. You hopped of the bike, your whole body still vibrating from the purr of the engine. 

“Whoa,” you swayed.

“First time?”  

You nodded.

“I’m honored to have been your first ride,” he smirked, making you blush at the implied meaning.

That bike wasn’t the only thing you wanted to ride…  He grabbed the jack from inside, while you looked around.

“Got it,” he said, suddenly standing behind you, his body head radiating onto your back, breath fanning against your ear. 

You visibly shivered, causing him to chuckle.

“Let’s go, princess.”  

You climbed back on the bike, more aware of his body between your legs than before. He rode back to your car and jacked it up, using the tools he’d brought he took off the old tire and put on the new one. He eased your car back to the ground.

“Good as new,” he beamed, “I’ll follow you home just to be sure that it’s all safe.”

“Thank you, Jungkook. You’re amazing,” you gushed.

He blushed and nodded, crawling back onto his bike and following you to your house. He got off the bike and walked up to you.

“Check your tire pressure in a couple days but other than that it seemed to drive fine.”  

“Okay. Do you want a drink or something?” you gestured to your house. “You really saved me today and I just want to repay you.”

“Sure,“ he smiled.

You led him inside, giving him some iced tea.

“Hungry?” you offered him a plate of cookies your mom had left out when she’d gone to night shift. 

“Thanks,” he smiled, taking one and biting in. 

He closed his eyes and let out a low moan that melted your insides. You pressed your thighs together.

“This cookie is orgasmic.” Jungkook told you, and you just giggled nervously.

“Oh, I forgot to give you the grand tour,” you grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the kitchen. 

You let go as soon as you realized what you’d done and showed him the downstairs before heading up the stairs.

“Last but not least, where I sleep,” you said, sitting on the bed.

“Nice.”  

“You’re the first guy that’s been up here,” you admitted.

“Oh, another honor of being your first,” he winked.

You covered your face, laughing.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“But didn’t you, Y/N?” the corner of his lip tugged upwards as he stalked towards you, almost like a predator closing in on its’ prey.

Your throat went dry as he placed his hand on your knee, leaning closer.

“Y/N?” your mom called up the stairs, “honey whose motorcycle is outside?”

Jungkook froze, your eyes popped open wide.

“She’s supposed to be at work.”  

“I’m not supposed to be here, am I?” 

You shook your head.

“Shit,” he mumbled, glancing at the window.  

“Don’t go. I have a plan. Come on.” 

You led him downstairs and stopped in front of your mom.

“Y/N, what-” she stopped and stared at Jungkook,  “Who are you? Why is he here? What were you doing up there?” she accused.

“Jungkook helped me change my flat tire and I didn’t have any cash on me but I wanted to repay him so he followed me here so I could get into my savings jar.” 

Jungkook nodded, furthering your story by pulling out a stack of one dollar bills from his pocket.

“Oh, well thank you… Jungkook…” your mom smiled wearily.

“It’s really no problem, Mrs. Y/L/N.”  

“Would you like to stay for dinner? As a thank you? I got off work early and I was going to make steak,” she offered.

“I’d like that,” Jungkook smiled. “At home it’d be me and a frozen dinner.”

“A growing boy needs a home cooked meal,” she clapped, “if you go back into your room, leave the door open Y/N.”

Your whole face felt hot  and you just nodded, dragging Jungkook up the stairs.

“I’m so sorry,” you groaned.

“Don’t be, she’s sweet.”  

“If you say so,” you mumbled.

You and Jungkook hung out in your room, talking and laughing and getting to know each other better. He told you how he became interested in tattoos, even learning how to tattoo someone himself, though he hadn’t had time to do it professionally with school. Tou told him that you’d never done anything half as exciting as that. The both of you kept moving closer unconsciously, until you were sitting cross legged on your bed, knees touching. You bit your bottom lip nervously. Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut.

“Y/N, it’s taking every bit of self control I’ve got not to attack you right now, please don’t make this any harder than it already is,” he groaned.

“Attack me?” you asked.

Jungkook lowered his voice, giving you a dangerous look. 

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you? From the moment you touched me at the bridge, I’ve wanted you. Even before that. You’re so kind to me, so pure and sweet. But I see the way you look at me. The way you want me. Then you bring me to your bed and you tease me, but I can’t have you. Your mom is downstairs. If she weren’t here right now, I’d have you screaming my name, begging me for more, I’d fuck you so good you’d be limping for days,” he growled, voice barely audible.

You sucked in a breath, using every ounce of willpower you possessed not to jump on him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you babygirl?” he purred. “You want my hands all over you, my tongue-”

“Y/N! Jungkook! Dinner,” your mom called.

Your face was hot from Jungkook’s dirty words, and he had to adjust himself before going downstairs. 

“I’m starved,” he smirked, “but I really just want dessert,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling it before walking away. 

You nearly fainted, but you followed him down to the kitchen.  You sat next to him at the table.

“Wow Mrs. Y/L/N, this looks amazing,” Jungkook smiled innocently. 

You  pressed your legs together desperate for any kind of relief. Jungkook smiled, placing a hand on your bare thigh under the table. Your eyes widened, and you looked at him. He just smiled politely, eyes focused ahead on what your mother was saying. Your dad came in and introduced himself. Your parents made idle conversation, they asked questions, but you could barely pay attention with Jungkook’s fingers dancing on your skin, so close to where you wanted him, but not close enough. As you were explaining the events of the day to your father, Jungkook’s fingers found their way past the hem of your shorts. You choked on your water.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook feigned concern.

“I’m fine. Wrong pipe,” you coughed, gripping his knee as a warning, pushing your legs together. 

He easily spread them apart again, because, did you really want him to stop? His fingers slithered past your underwear, teasing your slit. 

“This steak is so moist,” Jungkook grinned.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” your mom smiled.

You rolled your eyes, until he slipped one finger inside you. You bit down on your lip to avoid moaning. Jungkook didn’t even glance your way as he added another, pumping in and out of your heat seamlessly. His arm was barely moving. His thumb  rubbed circles around your clit, and you jumped a little. You dug your nails into his leg as his skilled fingers started moving faster, curling and hitting all the best places, making the electricity in your core build fast. You whimpered quietly as he shifted the angle, hitting your G-spot again.

“Are you okay, honey?” your dad asked.

“Yea-yeah. I just… ohhh.. My head hurts,” you moaned out.

“Do you need to be excused?” your dad asked.

“No…” you choked out breathlessly, “I’m okay.” 

“Okay,” he gave you a concerned look and started asking your mother about her day.

Jungkook leaned over and whispered hotly in your ear.

“Such a naughty girl, you don’t want to get caught do you? But it feels so good, doesn’t it? My fingers deep in your soaking pussy.  You act so innocent, I knew you’d be a dirty girl for me.” he purred quietly, so only you could hear. 

“Jungkook,” you gasped quietly, warning him that your orgasm was quickly approaching.

“Let it go baby, but be quiet.” 

He smirked, quickening the pace of his fingers. You covered your head with your arms, biting down on one to stifle the loud moan that left your lips as you rode out your high on Jungkook’ fingers, shaking from the explosion deep inside your core.

“Y/N?” your mom questioned.

“I think it’s a stress headache,” you croaked out. “Maybe I should go lay down. I’ll walk Jungkook out.”

“Okay honey, feel better. Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“Pleasure was mine.”  

“Come again soon,” she told him and he just smirked at you.

“I will.” 

Once you got outside, you hit his arm. 

“You’re such an asshole!” you hissed.

“You loved it.,” he laughed. 

You tugged on his shirt and he stepped closer to you.

“There’s more where that came from baby girl. I’m gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” he growled  “if your parents weren’t watching us from the window, I’d kiss you.”

“Now you’re scared?” you scoffed.

His eyes darkened and he pulled you against him roughly, kissing you hard and fast, making you dizzy. His tongue battled yours and his hands gripped your sides, grinding you into him. It was like a grenade had exploded in your mind, almost as good as the orgasm. He pulled away and licked his lips suggestively.

“I’m not afraid of anything, baby,” he winked, jumping on his bike and riding away.

Over the course of the next few weeks, all you could think about was Jungkook. Jungkook’s lips on yours, his fingers, daydreaming about other areas of his anatomy… All you wanted to do was to see how he could keep his word but he had other ideas. He loved to rile you up, then leave you wanting more, saying “it will be worth the wait baby.” Jungkook would sneak up behind you in the hallway, covering your eyes, whispering in your ear with that husky voice “guess who?”  and you like to tease him too.

“Tae?” You pretend- guessed.

Jungkook spun you around in a flash, pinning you against your locker, capturing your lips in a hot, jealous kiss.

“Does Tae kiss you like that?” Jungkook growled. 

“Well now that you mention it…” 

“Oh you’re so in for it,” his fingers dug into your side and you let out a shriek as he tickled you. 

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” You screamed, laughing. 

“That’s right baby, scream my name. Just how I like it, ” he joked, pulling you into a seemingly innocent hug, if it weren’t for his hot breath murmuring dirty things in your ear. 

You went weak against him and he pressed his hard on into your hips, to help keep you up and also to tease you. You whimpered like an injured puppy, grinding against him, but he pulled away. 

“Mmm… so hot for me baby,” he cooed, “maybe if you behaved and didn’t tease me, I wouldn’t have to tease you.“

“I’ll stop I swear,” You promised. 

He grabbed your ass, pulling you in for a fast kiss. The warning bell rang and he took your hand innocently, walking you to class. This hot and cold had shivers running down your spine. He kissed your forehead and went to his own class. 

Later, as you cuddled in his bed, you finally broke. 

“Babe, you’ve been teasing me for weeks. I want you,” you whined. 

“Okay.” 

“Really? Okay?” you gasped. 

“Yeah, but I want you to beg for it. Beg for me,” he smirked, “tell me how badly you need my big, thick cock in your little wet pussy. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

His eyes were dark and dangerous and you were already dripping as you sat up on your knees, looking up at him. 

“Jungkook, please,” you begged, too desperate to be embarrassed, “Please I need you inside me right now. I need to feel your hands on me. I can’t stop thinking about how good your fingers felt inside me. You’re all I think about, I’m going insane. Fuck, please.”  

“Mmm.. that’s it baby girl. You want me to make you feel good?” he purred. 

“Yes, please. Fuck Jungkook, I’m literally begging you. I’ll do anything,” you whimpered. 

“Anything?” 

“Literally anything. I need you that badly.” 

“Strip,” He instructed, standing up and walking over to his closet and pulling something out. 

You did as told without hesitation. Some might call you whipped, but it was more like sexual desperation. You’d been allowed to have a sample, but you needed the real thing. You’d been teased and provoked for weeks, and you were ready to burst. 

“Lay back, baby,” He said softly, and you did.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, smirking at you.

“Are you ready?”  

Your eyes went wide and you nodded, moving your hands up to the headboard so he could cuff them. 

“Now, this is going to be different, but I want you to stop thinking so much and just feel what I’m doing to you. Can you do that?”  

“Yes,” you breathed out in excitement . 

He pulled out a large bandana, covering your eyes with it and securing it around your head.  You couldn’t even see any light filtering in through the fabric, it was just darkness. You heard Jungkook’ belt buckle and assumed he was undressing. You felt his body hovering over yours. 

“Mmm… you look so fucking good all tied up and ready for me. I’m going to make you feel so amazing baby girl,” he licked a stripe from the sensitive space below your ear down to your collarbone, nibbling gently. 

You felt something soft tickle your breasts, causing your nipples to perk up. The strange soft object was ghosted across your alert nipples and you bit your lip and shivered. 

“Do you trust me to take care of you?”  

You didn’t skip a beat, “yes.” 

“Good girl.”  

Everywhere the soft tickling sensation went, Jungkook lips followed close behind. He sucked on your breasts, teeth gently tugging on your erect nipples. You groaned quietly. His wet mouth on your sensitive skin was almost too much. He licked a bold line across them, blowing cold air on the wet skin, and you shook in anticipation.  Jungkook treated your body like a temple, worshipping every inch of your skin, telling you how flawless you were, how much he craved you. His mouth slowly, tantalizingly slowly, worked its way down your body, leaving little love bites, kissing and licking and teasing. You felt the soft tickle on your heat, so ready for his mouth to follow, but it didn’t. He teased your slit with the soft touches and kissed your mouth tenderly. 

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look, all open and ready for me. You’re a fucking goddess, y/n. I bet you taste so good, so sweet,” he told you, nibbling on your bottom lip. 

Your mouth fell open in awe at how his words affected you, how even a simple kiss had you writhing, how not being able to see made everything so much more intense, or maybe it was just Jungkook. Jungkook’s mouth left yours, and you missed his body heat pressed against yours until you felt him press soft kisses at your entrance. Finally, he was where you needed him. His tongue darted out unexpectedly, licking and swirling against your sensitive clit. You moaned quietly. His fingers snaked their way into your dripping core, curling just right, just like they had that night at dinner, only better. 

You arched your back off the bed, trying to handle your fingers in his hair, but your movements were halted by the cuffs. Jungkook fingered you quickly, pumping in and out hard and fast, but his tongue danced slowly on your little nub, the different tempos making your head spin. You were already close, his magic fingers working inside you, his delicious tongue bringing you so close to the edge. Your high crashed over you and your breath hitched, you couldn’t even make sound, just sucked in your breath as the most amazing feeling washed over you. 

Jungkook continued working on your pussy until he knew your high had come back down. Your breathing was labored and he grinned, loving what he could do to you. You felt completely spent, and you thought that was the end of it, until you heard a foil wrapper being opened. You weren’t sure if you could handle anything else with how sensitive your clit felt, but you sure as hell weren’t going to pass up this opportunity. Jungkook lined himself up at your sensitive, dripping entrance. He reached up and took off your blindfold, and the first thing you saw was his gorgeous face smiling down at you, meeting your eyes. 

“I wanted to be able to see your eyes for this part.” He told you, leaning down to kiss you gently, slowly sliding inside of you. 

You gasped, feeling over sensitive and wanting more at the same time. Jungkook moved slowly at first, letting you adjust, then he started going faster. The faster Jungkook snapped his hips, the louder you moaned, Jungkook encouraging you obviously. 

“That’s it baby, let it out, I want the neighbors to know who’s making you feel this good.”  

“Fuck, Jungkook, oh…” you nearly screamed “faster please please please.” 

Jungkook pumped in and out of you faster, rougher, causing the headboard to smack against the wall with a loud thud each time. Your whole body rocked along with the force of his thrusts, and you thought you might actually faint. You were flying, soaring, floating, you couldn’t describe it. You were in another world with Jungkook deep inside you, filling an empty space inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It was like you were incomplete until this moment, and Jungkook became a part of you, closing the gap. Your high was coming again, even more intense than the last. You could barely breathe, you couldn’t even get his name out of your mouth to warn him, you couldn’t do anything but feel the ridiculous ecstasy, bliss, delicious feeling that swallowed you whole. 

You screamed out, the most intense orgasm of your life surrounding you in immeasurable pleasure. Jungkook came soon after, and slowed his pace after riding out your highs together. He collapsed next to you, breathing as ragged as your own. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak for a moment. You glanced over at him, looking like a snack- no, a five course meal- skin shimmering with sweat. He was perfection and you couldn’t believe he was really here, that you’d really just had sex with him. But it had been more than sex, it was hot and sensual and overwhelming and erotic but it was also two souls intertwining, like coming home after being gone for so long. It was like you belonged there with Jungkook, and you were finally where you were meant to be.  

“Jungkook?” You asked breathlessly.

“Hmm?” He looked at you, worn and sleepy. 

“You’re fucking amazing.”  

“Fucked you that good?” he laughed. 

“Gosh yes, but like… all of you. You’re an amazing person. I’m really glad I met you.”  

He gathered you up in his arms, kissing the top of your head and holding you close. 

“I’m glad I met you too, y/n. You’re incredible,” he cooed. 

You didn’t even try to get up for hours, you knew your legs wouldn’t work after the pounding you’d just had, but you didn’t want to move anyway. The only place you wanted to be was wrapped up in Jungkook’ arms, where you were safe and cherished and not afraid of anything. 

[waitimcomingtoo]

Would You Rather?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom mentions his crush on you during an interview and you respond

Authors note: this was requested by anon who gave a generous donation to the BLM fund. Thank you!

Masterlist

“Would you rather fight a horse sized duck or a duck sized horse?” Tom read off a card as he adjusted the collar on his blue jumpsuit.

“I don’t know what situation I’d be in where I’d have to fight either of these animals.” He started as he looked at the camera. “I feel like I’d rather fight duck sized horse because that’s pretty small. I could probably defeat that. But a horse sized duck could bite me, you know?”

The crew nodded in agreement and Tom moved on to the next question.

“Would you rather lose the ability to read or the ability to speak?” Tom scratched behind his head as he thought about it.

“I barely have the ability to read as it is.” He laughed. “I’m an actor, so I feel like I need the ability to speak.”

He dropped that card on the couch and picked up the next one.

“Would you rather have Captain Marvel or Black Cat as your girlfriend?” He smiled as he read.

“I don’t know if they mean as my girlfriend or as Spider-Man’s girlfriend but I without a doubt would pick Black Cat.” Tom said confidently. “I was so upset when they cast Y/n L/n as the Black Cat and didn’t connect her movie to the Spider-Man universe.”

“Why were you upset?” A crew member asked.

“Because I’m in love with Y/n.” Tom laughed like it was obvious. “I must’ve seen every movie of hers 100 times. Especially the Black Cat suit because she looked so freaking hot in that.”

“She really did.” A female lighting director nodded in agreement.

“Right? If Black Cat was Spider-Man’s girlfriend and Y/n was my girlfriend I’d be a very happy man.” Tom sighed dreamily and toyed with the card as he day dreamed about you.

That video went up a few days later and made the usual headlines. You were well aware of Tom as an actor but completely unaware of his crush on you. Your heart stopped that first time you saw the headline:

“Watch Tom Holland gush over his celebrity crush, Y/n L/n.”

And yes, you did watch.

You watched many times in fact. The part where he said he was in love with you was your personal favorite. After getting sent the video by all your friends and fans, you decided to do something about it.

“@tomholland1996 you look pretty hot in your suit as well. And out of the suit. And in regular clothes. Damn dude, you’re pretty hot.”

You posted the tweet with a devious smile and shut your phone off. Whatever the world had to say about it, they could wait until the next morning.

~

You were woken up early the next morning by your phone ringing. You wiped the sleep from your eyes but kept them shut as you held your phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Y/n? It’s your manager. I have some exciting news.” Your manager sounded giddy on the other side of the line.

“So exciting that you had to wake me up?” You laughed sleepily.

“I don’t know.” She humored you. “Do you think the Russo Brothers emailing me and asking you to come to set is exciting?”

You sat up quickly as your eyes flew open.

“What?” You shrieked in excitement.

“They said they’ve been rewriting the script for Infinity War for the past few weeks and it’s finally finished. They added a scene with the Black Cat.” She said in a sing song voice. Your breath hitched in your throat as the news flooded into your ears.

“You’re kidding.” You gasped.

“Nope. Can you drive down to set at 1? I sent you the address.” She told you.

“I’ll be there.” You nodded as a wide smile spread across your face. Your manager hung up and you threw down your phone.

“AHHHH.” You screamed in excitement and immediately got dressed. It was finally happening.

You were finally going to be in the MCU.

~

You arrived at the address promptly before 1 and were led to set by an assistant. The Russo Brothers met you by the trailers and introduced themselves.

“Great to meet you.” Joe shook your hand, then Anthony. “How much did your manager tell you?”

“Just that you added a scene with the Black Cat.” You nodded as you relayed all the information you had.

“Right. We decided to add the Black Cat to the MCU now that her character has been established in your solo movie.” Anthony explained. “We had to keep it a secret until now to keep it from getting leaked. We have big plans for your character, starting with this movie.”

You smiled gratefully at the two of them and nodded enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity. I’m so honored to be here. What are the plans?” You asked as you twisted your fingers nervously.

“For starters, meet your new boyfriend.” Joe chuckled and turned around and pointed.

“Boyfriend?” You asked and followed his finger.

“Tom, get over here.” He called. Your eyes widened when you realized what name he called and you looked up to see Tom jogging over to you.

“What’s up guys?” He looked at the Russo bothers before his eyes landed on you. His smile faded and he blinked a few times to register the sight in front of him.

“Hi.” His face flushed and he smiled shyly at you.

“Hi.” You smiled back, still not believing what was happening.

“I’m- I’m Tom.” He fumbled over his words as he held out his hand.

“I know.” You laughed softly as you shook his hand.

“Right, sorry.” He shook his head in embarrassment. “Whats uh, what’s she doing here?”

“Change of plans.” Anthony smirked as he handed you and Tom a few pages of the script.

“You’re giving me a script?” Tom asked in disbelief as he ran his fingers over the crisp white pages.

“Yes. Don’t make us regret it.” Joe said sternly.

“Yes sir.” Tom nodded eagerly and began to flip through it.

“Peter is going to get thrown by one of Thanos’s men and Black Cat is going to catch him.” Anthony began to explain. “She saw the spaceship, came to help, and winds up in space with Tony, Steven, and Peter.”

“That’s awesome.” Tom breathed. “This looks really cool.”

You were so wrapped up in the excitement of holding a real Marvel script that you had forgotten the brothers original statement.

“Hold on. You said he was my boyfriend.” You looked at Joe and Anthony skeptically.

“Boyfriend?” Tom perked up from his script and looked between the three of you. “Me boyfriend? To her? Please say yes. I’m fine either way it’s just, I would really like you to say yes right now.

“Yes Tom.” Joe laughed. “Right as they’re falling in love, poof.”

“Dust.” Anthony finished. You and Tom shared a look, evidently impressed.

“That’s brutal.” You remarked.

“It is.” Joe agreed. “Until they’re reunited in Endgame in a similar fashion to the way they met.”

“And the crowd goes wild.” Anthony said slowly. You got chills just thinking about it and smiled as you rubbed your arms.

“I like it.” You nodded and Tom bit back a smile.

“Me too.” He said softly. “I like it a lot.”

“Great.” Anthony rubbed his hands together. “Rehearsal starts tomorrow.”

The brothers walked away, leaving you and Tom alone with each other.

“They don’t play around over here. I just got cast and already I’m on set.” You chuckled and shyly looked at Tom. He was so much cuter in person, the camera didn’t do justice to his freckles. Tom nodded and gave you a half smile.

“Yeah, they’re pretty unorthodox over here. I’d tell you you’d get used to it, but I’d be lying.” Tom shook his head and gave you a once over. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you told the world I looked hot in my catsuit but never dmed me to ask for my number.” You shrugged easily and Toms jaw dropped at your boldness.

“In my defense, you are way too cool to be interested in me. At least I knew my place.” He shot back and you laughed.

“Didn’t you see my tweet last night?” You asked coyly as you raised an eyebrow.

“What tweet? The one about you calling me hot? The one that I sent to every single contact in my phone, including my dentist?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows. “No, I don’t think I saw it.”

“Funny.” You folded your arms and gave him a sultry smile. “I never checked if you responded.”

“I’d rather if you didn’t. It wasn’t very smooth.” He admitted.

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yes?” He looked at you.

“Would you rather continue talking in the middle of a crowded set or go somewhere secluded to run our lines?” You made a callback to his interview that started it all and he noticed.

“Run lines please. I need to quit while I’m ahead.” He eyed you with uncertainty as he thought about his words. “I was ahead, right?”

“Yeah.” You smirked and linked your arm through his. “You were ahead.”

~

“Kid, what are you doing here?” Tony asked as he craned his neck to see Peter.

“On a field trip to MOMAAAAAA.” Peter yelled as he was flung into the sky. He flew through the air like a rag doll until he landed in your arms. You breathed heavily, you in your masks and suits.

“Hey there.” You smirked at Peter as you held him bridal style.

“Hi, I’m Peter. You’re really pretty.” He said through heavy pants. “Can you pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“Hi Peter.” Your wine colored lips tugged into a smile. “Should you really be telling me your name? I could be dangerous.” You pouted as you set him down.

“Oh, right.” Peter got back on his feet and brushed off his suit. “In that case, I’m not Peter. I’m…Pedro.”

“Mm, Pedro. I like it.” You winked and saw one of Thanos’s minions coming at him from behind. “Watch out.”

You spun around and kicked the minion in the face before hooking your legs around his neck and knocking him to the ground. One swift punch to the throat knocked him unconscious. You stood up and waltzed back over to Peter as you dusted off your hands.

“Woah, where’d you learn to do that?” The eyes of Peters mask widened as you impressed him with your skills.

“A woman’s got to protect herself, right?” You shrugged and popped gum in your mouth before eyeing him up and down. “And apparently, I have to protect you too.”

“I’m totally fine with that.” Peter answered honestly. “Do you have a name?”

You wrapped your arms around Peters neck and blew a bubble with your gum.

“Black Cat.” You said once it popped. The sent of bubble gum filled Peters nostrils and his knees weakened.

“That explains the catsuit.” He gulped. “What, no tail?”

“Tails are so cliche.” You whined and stroked his covered cheek with your hand. “I’m a cat burglar, not a halloween costume.”

“If this is how you go out on a normal day, I’d love to see what you wear in Halloween.” Peter attempted time flirt back with the mysterious woman distracting him from his mission. You leaned forward, close enough that your lips were almost touching.

“I bet you would.” You whispered. You patted his cheek and turned away swiftly, whipping his face with your long gray ponytail. Peter let out a throaty groan as the scent of your perfume enveloped him. You walked around him in a circle, dragging your fingernail along his shoulders as you went.

“Since you know my name is Peter, it’s only fair you tell me yours.” He said as he turned his head to look at you. You paused, standing directly behind him.

“You really wanna know my name?” You challenged.

“That’s what I just said.” Peter sassed you. You smirked and took a step towards Peter so you were pressed against his back, gripping his waist tightly.

“Hardy.” You said right in his ear and he shivered. “Felicia Hardy. I’ve seen you around, Spiderman. You’re pretty good.”

You finished your circle and stood in front of him now. He was grateful for his mask, otherwise you could see just how red he had gone. His heart was racing out of his chest just from the look of you. The white fur cuffs and skintight black suit were making it impossible for him to focus.

“Just pretty good?” He questioned. “I’ve taken down a lot of bad guys.”

“Mm, but never me.” You taunted as you twirled your gray hair around your finger, wanting to get a rise out of you.

“You’re a bad guy?”

“Depends on your definition of bad guy.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let your teeth drag. “Do you think I’m bad?”

“Depends on your definition of bad.” Peter straightened up.

“This has been fun.” You smirked and tossed your ponytail over your shoulder. Nice talking to you, Peter.”

“You too.” Peter smiled under his mask until a Boulder was flung your way. “Look out!”

Peter shot a web at you and pulled you flushed against his chest. He pulled you to the ground and rolled on top of you as the boulder went over your heads. It was your turn to be blushing as you stared at Peter in amazement.

“How did you-“

“Spidey senses.” He answered before you could finish your question. He could feel his body beginning to lift into the air with you following. “Oh no.”

“What’s happening?” You asked as you and Peter lifted into the air. You clutched him tightly to keep from falling and Peter held on to you for support.

“Mr Stark!” He yelled. “I’m being beamed up!”

“And cut!” Anthony yelled. The wires holding you and Tom up slowly lowered you back down until you were back on the ground. Tom rolled off of you and fell on his back, breathing heavily from the scene. He pulled his mask off and rested it on his tummy.

“Whew.” He panted and looked at you with a tired smile. “Great work.”

You smiled back at Tom, still flushing from the flirty scene. You had done that scene many times from rehearsal all the way to production, but never that well. Your heart usually stopped racing by now, but something about the way he was looking at you kept it in rhythm.

“You too.” You complimented him as you sat up. You helped each other up and pulled each other into a sweaty hug.

“That’s a wrap guys. Great work today.” Joe announced. “Before you leave, I have the official version of the script. This is what we’re going to be filming tomorrow. We couldn’t give it to you until now in case someone spoiled it.”

Joe glared at Tom as he handed out the final scripts.

“I hate it here.” Tom mumbled as his ability to keep secrets was once again under fire.

“Great, thank you.” You smiled at Joe before he walked away. Tom came over to you, hitting his rolled up script against his hand.

“Do you want to go over our lines for tomorrow?” Tom asked.

“Sure. I’ll meet you there after I drop off my costume.” You told him.

Twenty minutes later, your wig and costume were returned to the costume department. You wiped off your makeup and changed into comfortable clothes before heading to Tom’s. You let out a shaky breath as you walked towards his trailer. You’d been in there a hundred times since production began a few months ago, but today felt different. There was something in the air between you and Tom that neither of you could ignore. You knocked on his door and heard your heartbeat in your ears as you waited for him to open. Tom gave you a shy smile as he opened the door of his trailer door for you and stepped aside.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy.” He apologized as he shut the door behind him. You looked around at Toms trailer, noting the clothes hanging off the ceiling fan and the pictures of the two of you taped to his mirror. You walked over to the mirror and touched the picture with a light smile. It was a strip of picture taken in a photo booth a few weeks into production. The photos went from you and Tom smiling, to laughing, to you kissing his cheek, to him kissing your cheek as you laughed. You had spent your only day off together, hanging out a a fair until the sun was coming up. After getting stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel for 15 minutes and clinging to Tom every time it shook, you ran to the photo booth to immortalize the night. You had the exact same strip of photos on your dresser at home, but you never noticed that he displayed them so proudly.

“It’s very you in here.” You looked at him over your shoulder and shot him a smile.

“Thanks?” He bit his lip in confusion.

“Don’t worry. It was a compliment.” You said pointedly and walked back towards him. “Should we look at the script?” You suggested and he nodded.

“Yeah. Here, take a seat.” He sat on his bed and patted the spot next to you. You sat next to him and folded your legs, beginning to flip through the script.

“This looks the same as the last script.” You realized when you recognized the words. Tom flipped through his script and came to a halt when he read something unexpected.

“It’s not.” He said with a dry mouth.

“What’s different?” You looked up at him in confusion.

“There’s a kiss.” He looked you to and saw your face go pale.

“A kiss?” You stammered and went back to your script to find what he was talking about.

“Right here.” Peter held out his script and pointed to the part. “Felicia kisses Peter before she turns to dust.” He read.

“So this is what they didn’t want you spoiling.” You laughed nervously as you read the stage direction over and over.

“They might’ve made a good call on that one.” Tom chuckled softly. “I’m really tempted right now to post a picture of the script on twitter just to rub it in everyone’s face.”

You looked up from the script and gave him a fond smile.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You said softly.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized. “It’s not everyday you get cast opposite your celebrity crush.”

“How do you think I felt when I got cast as your girlfriend?” You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your chin on top.

“You...liked me?” Tom asked quietly. He didn’t let himself believe it, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“For a long time now.” You admitted. Production was about to end anyway. If he didn’t feel the same, there was nothing you could do about it, but at least he knew.

Tom blinked a few times as he registered what you said and smiled widely.

“I’m really glad I got to know you these past few months. You’re a lot cooler in person.” Tom said sincerely. “Honestly, I have no idea how I’m supposed to act beside you tomorrow knowing I have to kiss you.”

“Tom.” You said breathlessly at his words.

“I’m already a nervous wreck. My mind is in sicko mode right now. I can’t even read.” He put his script down and sighed.

“I think I might be able to calm you down.”

“How?” He wondered. He looked up at you for answers, but was met with a kiss. You tilted your head to the side and pressed your lips against his feeling his eyelashes brush your cheek as his eyes fluttered shut. Tom brought his hand to the side of your face for support and gently rubbed his thumb against your cheek. You smiled against his lips and sat up a little to get a better angle and kissed him deeply. You pulled away to catch your breath and rested your forehead against his. The only sound in the trailer was from your heavy breathing.

“You’re really smart.” He said quietly. “I feel significantly calmer.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” You chuckled softly. Tom pulled away and took on of your hands in his, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it.

“I have a question for you.” He said.

“Go for it.” You bit your bottom lip as you both spoke in hushed tones.

“Would you rather,” he began with a coy smile, “kiss me again or go on a date with me?”

“I can’t have both?” You pouted and a wicked flame ignited in Toms eyes. He hooked his pinky under your chin and moved your face towards his, leaning close enough that his lips brushed yours when he spoke.

“I think I can make an exception.” He whispered before kissing you again.

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[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story! 

** Trigger warning: Miscarriage. 

This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”

She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.

Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.

It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.

And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.

It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

Elain’s smile widened.

After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.

She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.

Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.

*

When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.

Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.

Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.

“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.

Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”

“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”

“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”

“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”

Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.” 

Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”

“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”

“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.

“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.

Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”

He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”

Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.

“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”

“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”

He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”

“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.

He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“A simple conversation will do,��� he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim. 

“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.

Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”

She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”

“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.

“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.

“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”

Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”

Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”

“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”

Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”

“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”

She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”

“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”

Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”

Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?” 

“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”

“But?” Nesta asked. 

“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.” 

“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”

Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”

Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.

“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”

“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.

He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”

Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.

Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.

“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”

Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”

Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”

“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.

She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”

“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”

She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”

“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”

“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet. 

He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.

Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back. 

Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.” 

“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”

He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”

Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”

He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”

“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.

Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.

“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”

Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”

Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”

Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.

Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.

It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.

He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.

With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.

“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.

The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.

“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.

“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush. 

He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.

“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering. 

“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”

Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.

There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…

She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”

The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”

She gnawed into her lip, nodding.

“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.

She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.

Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”

The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.

“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”

Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead. 

“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”

“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.

She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”

Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.

“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, quietly.

She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.

She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”

Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.

“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.

“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”

He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”

Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.” 

“You didn’t know,” he shot back.

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye. “It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”

“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”

She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.

“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”

He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”

Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”

He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”

“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”

“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.

Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder. 

“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”

“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”

She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”

He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”

“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”

She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.

“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”

“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in. 

“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?” 

Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.

It was tempting.

It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.

But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh. 

Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.” 

[m0srael]

Drunk Texts

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Love Letter

One balmy night in June, Harry’s lying in bed wide awake--unable to sleep again--when his mobile lights up on the nightstand. The only people who ever contact him on his mobile are Teddy (“All the cool wizards have them these days, Harry, please get one so I can send you memes!”) and Hermione, and neither of them would be texting this late.

Friday, June 6 2008, 1:27 AM

+445195555555: I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since we were sixteen, won’t shut my bloody mouth about you actually, can I take you on a date? I’m still very rich, all things considered, and know all the best restaurants in Wizarding Britain.

+445195555555: Maybe just a shag, then?

Harry: bloody hell, who is this??

Harry: This number is unlisted, I don’t know how you got it but I’m blocking it now. Kindly, fuck off.

+445195555555: WAIT

+445195555555: What do you mean, who is this? I thought muggle mobiles know who you’re talking to already.

Harry: Not if a strange person is texting in the middle of the bloody night from a number I’ve never seen before!

+445195555555: If you don’t want to date me or shag me just say so, Potter. No need to play hard to get and toss around insults

+445195555555: Unless that’s a thing for you, cheeky ;) ;)

Harry: Last chance, tell me who this is or I’m blocking your number.

+445195555555: Draco

+445195555555: Obviously ;)

Harry: Draco...Malfoy?

Harry: You expect me to believe Draco Malfoy is confessing his love and hitting me up for a shag at 1am. On a *muggle* mobile.

+445195555555: Believe it scarhead, now answer the question do you or do you not want to shag me

Harry: Look, you’ve obviously read one too many Prophet articles…

Harry: Somehow found my number...did you confund someone I know??

Harry: And thought that...pretending to be Draco Malfoy, of all people, would entice me to meet up with a total stranger?

+445195555555: Ooh, the logic of it all, Potter ;)

Harry: Stop doing that

+445195555555: what ;) ;)

Harry: The emojis. Malfoy would never use emojis.

+445195555555: You don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do anymore Potter. Would you like to learn? ;)

Harry: Fuck

Harry: Even if I believed you, I’ve never given Draco Malfoy my number. My *muggle* mobile number.

Harry: I’ve never given him my number because Draco Malfoy would never use a *muggle* mobile.

Harry:...among other reasons

+445195555555: Always so preoccupied with blood purity, Potter, haven’t you learned anything?

+445195555555: And there you go again, assuming that you know what I would and would not do

+445195555555: It really would be much more efficient if you just let me demonstrate

Harry: oh my god

Harry: I can’t believe I’m still messaging you

Harry: ffs, you have one chance to convince me that you’re really Malfoy otherwise I’m blocking you immediately

+445195555555: You are a tetchy one, hm?

+445195555555: Fine. You cornered me in a bathroom in 6th bc you were *obsessed* with me and tried to murder me using sectumsempra (which you claimed not to know the effect of, pft) but only because I tried to Crucio you and I would have died if Snape hadn’t found us and cleaned up your mess (again)

+445195555555: They definitely didn’t print THAT in the Prophet. Unfortunately.

Harry: Bloody hell um...okay…

Harry: Look, about that, Malfoy…

Harry: Wait, unfortunately…??

+445195555555: So you see, Potter, it is in fact I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, confessing my love and “hitting you up for a shag at 1am” as you so elegantly put it.

+445195555555: ;)

Harry: Okay. Malfoy, then. Jesus.

Harry: How exactly did you get my number?

Harry: For that matter, when did you get a mobile?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I got it from Pansy, who got it from Ginny, you recalcitrant twat

Draco Sodding Malfoy: See, I can do the sexy insults thing, too :*

Draco Sodding Malfoy: And if you must know, Potter, I purchased a mobile years ago to stay in contact with my cousin, Teddy. Teddy Lupin. I think you’re acquainted? The little brat refuses to owl, apparently it’s “sooo medieval”.

Harry: Oh. That...actually makes sense. He said the same thing to me.

Harry: Hang on, Teddy isn’t a brat. I thought you two got on rather well…?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Whatever, the point is I’m mad for you and I never told you because, well, there was the whole war thing and then the whole trial thing, and since then I’ve become a bit of a self-righteous coward. Also, I fancy myself something of a martyr. I think the constant pouting makes my mouth look more kissable, don’t you?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: We could do the dinner thing if we must, or you can just come round mine I can meet you there right now

Harry: Oh. You’re drunk.

Harry: Never pegged you as the type to get sloshed and text your ex-childhood-nemesis for a hookup

Draco Sodding Malfoy: not with that attitude you haven’t

Harry: Hah

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Not drnk

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Honestly, Potter

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Harry

Harry: weird

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking. You look at me like some lovesick teenager. Why deny what *literally everyone* can plainly see?

Harry: I do not look at you like a...lovesick teenager, Malfoy.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Draco ;)

Harry: I do not watch you, DRACO.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I only notice because I’m watching you too, Harry. All the time. I’ve been watching you for as long as I can remember.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You’ve practically been the center of my universe since I was eleven years old, for Merlin’s sake. I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time, even when we’re in the same room.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I mean I LITERALLY do not shut up about you I wasn’t exaggerating about that. It drives Pansy and Blaise, who have the patience and constitutions of actual saints and who are very, very good friends, absolutely mental and they’d like nothing more than to hex my mouth shut permanently.

Harry: um

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Admit it.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You’ve wondered what it’d be like.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Imagined it.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Us

Harry: Malfoy…

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Draco

Harry: Draco…

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Yes, Harry? ;)

Harry: I...could do dinner.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You could “do” dinner? That’s all, after everything I’ve just said, you can “do” dinner??

Harry: For the love of Merlin

Harry: Fine. You’re right, Draco. I...have wondered

Harry: About us, I mean

Harry: Ahh and actually Draco sometimes when I look at you I just want…

Friday, June 6 2008, 2:15 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: what

Draco Sodding Malfoy: you want what

Friday, June 6 2008, 2:48 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: harry

Friday, June 6 2008, 3:09 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: harry, bloody hell

Saturday, June 7 2008, 6:45 AM

Harry: Draco, I’m so sorry

Saturday, June 7 2008, 8:18 AM

Harry: My mobile died and I didn’t have my charger

Saturday, June 7 2008, 9:23 AM

Harry: Draco

Saturday, June 7 2008, 11:47 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Potter, why on earth are you contacting me so early on a Saturday?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Scratch that, why are you contacting me at all? Where did you get my number?

Harry: Oh, so you were drunk

Draco Sodding Malfoy: How is my present or past level of intoxication any of your concern?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Oh.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: No.

Harry: Draco, what’s wrong? What happened?

Harry: Draco…?

Harry: I’m sorry, if I said something…

Harry: Look, YOU’RE the one drunk messaging ME at all hours of the night looking for a shag!

Saturday, June 7 2008, 7:08 PM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Dear Harry,

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I hereby formally apologize for my previous messages. They are inappropriate and entirely out of line, do forgive me. Although it appears that Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson absconded with my mobile yesterday evening to, “have a bit of fun”, I take full responsibility for what has transpired. Do not report me, or something. I do hope you were not too offended. I will henceforth refrain from contacting you by this, or any other, means. I assure you that my traitorous, juvenile, back-stabbing, inconsiderate, so-called friends have been soundly reprimanded. You may expect their formal apologies via owl, posthaste.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Apologetically, Draco L. Malfoy

Harry: Wow, uh, ok. I’ve never gotten a formal apology over text before. Did it take you...8 hours to write that?

Harry: And for the record, I knew something was up. We may not be best mates or anything but I know you wouldn’t use emojis like that.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Oh, bugger off, Potter you had no idea it wasn’t me. You were ready to spill your innermost desires to a stranger on your mobile! Stupid Gryffindor.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Ah.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I mean, goodbye! So sorry, again, for the inconvenience! We will never speak again from this moment on!

Harry: Draco, wait

Draco ;): Merlin, what, Potter?

Harry: Harry

Draco ;): No.

Harry: Fine. Look, if you accept full responsibility, does that mean your offer still stands?

Draco ;): What offer?

Draco ;): No. It doesn’t, whatever it is.

Harry: Your offer to take me on a date.

Harry: ;)

Draco ;): Bloody...Potter, that wasn’t MY offer!

Harry: Perhaps not, but I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking...Draco.

Draco ;): Who is this? I’m blocking this number. I’m going to ask Pansy how to block a number.

Harry: Draco, I’m serious.

Saturday, June 7 2008, 9:14 PM

Harry: Draco, I can tell that you didn’t block my number.

Saturday, June 7 2008, 11:47 PM

Harry: Fine.

Harry: Draco, could I take you out for dinner some time? I know someone who knows all the best restaurants in Wizarding Britain.

Draco ;): …..

Harry: ?

Draco ;): If you must

Harry: If I must?

Draco ;): It's true that I'm still rich, all things considered, but you’re paying

Draco ;): ;)

[manonblaqkbeak]

The Reunion

Day 5--I had completely forgotten that I had written this lol. It’s more fluff as usual. Can’t wait to read everyone else’s later on!

Enjoy! :)

1.8k words

Rowan couldn't wait to get home. Today had been...exhausting, to say the least. He was a personal trainer, and with that came the territory that people would talk about their issues while working out. Which was fine, Rowan understood that letting out emotional issues when working out helped people to stay motivated. He himself had been known to rant about his issues when working out himself.

But today had been a lot. One of his regulars had put on weight over the Yulemas holidays and was beating himself up over it. Another regulars marriage was over and was dealing with that guilt.  Someone had lost a favourite aunt. Another one had to break off an engagement because it was a loveless relationship. And on and on the issues piled up.

Rowan was good at compartmentalizing, but after a while, he ignored his lunch break in order to go to the park to just...not think for a while.

Being at the park cheered him up a little, but his break was soon too over. And he was back to work, and that was when the skies decided to open up and pour down buckets of rain. Making a bad day into a shittier one.

His wipers were on the fastest setting and he was driving at a snails pace when he looked away for one second, one fucking second, when he heard a thump and a feminine voice yell out “what the fuck!”

Slamming on the brakes, Rowan came to a speedy conclusion.

He was at a pedestrian crossing and he just hit someone with his car.

He just hit someone with his car.

“Fucking hell!”

Pulling up the handbrake, Rowan got out, not sure what to say or do when he came across a golden haired woman, her eyes spitting out blue and gold fire.

Rowan blinked at her, because despite being covered in rain and sitting on her behind, hand rubbing at her hip, she looked familiar.

But now wasn't the time to thinking about that. He had to see if she was okay. “I'm so sorry,” he got out, “I have no idea what happened. I looked away for a second, that was all. I'm so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”

“My hip and my ass hurt, and I suspect that I'm going to have a wicked bruise, but I think I'm okay,” the stranger said. “You should really watch what you're doing, though.”

“I know. I'm sorry, again.”

The stranger sighed, and even that sounded familiar. “What a fucking day I'm having,” she mumbled.

“Bad day?” He probably made it worse, too. He should also really get her into his car, but she starting ranting before he could do anything about it.

“The fucking worst. I'm facing a deadline that I can't finish, because I'm having dreadful writers block. My landlord is a fucking creep who came to my place today saying that my underwear 'accidentally' got mixed in with his laundry. My cousin's dad recently came back into his life, so now he's angry all the damned time and it's leeching into me. And you just hit me with your car.”

Rowan nodded in understanding, but only could manage to say, “Yeah, your day definitely sucks.”

She glared at him, silently telling him that that wasn't really the best way to respond, but he was having a bad day, also.

Which wasn't an excuse he knew, but Gods, it wasn't really his day either.

Rowan helped her up, her hands warm despite the cold and took her to his passenger seat and pulled over to the side. He couldn't help but notice that she smelled like jasmine and lemon verbena. A calming scent.

“I'm not sure what the protocol is,” he admitted after handing her a hand towel from the glove box. “Do we call the police? Or my insurance? I should take you to the hospital, I know that much.” Even if all she said was that she hurt her behind and hip, it'd be best to ensure that she didn't fracture anything.

When she said nothing after a moment, Rowan turned, noting that the silence from the woman was a little concerning, scared to death that maybe she hit her head and was going into shock.

Her blue-gold eyes were wide. “Are you okay?” he asked again. He really should get her to the hospital.

“Are you...? This is...you couldn't be. Rowan? Rowan Whitethorn?”

Rowan blinked, his concern turning inward. “Yes, that's my name. How did you—?”

“I, uh, it's me. Aelin Ashryver Gala—”

“Galathynius?” He finished for her. She nodded.

They sat in silence as Rowan stared at her, taking in her blue-gold eyes, golden hair, the lemon verbena and jasmine smell of her. Recalling the familiar sigh. All of it.

Rowan wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel when all of it came crashing down on him. He had just hit his high school crush with his car.

Rowan, for whatever reason that he couldn't name, wanted to laugh. He never would have suspected that he would hit Aelin Galathynius with his car ten years after high school graduation.

He was fairly certain that high school him had been in love with her from the moment he saw her. Rowan had wanted to ask her out at least a dozen times, but he was an awkward seventeen year old that didn't know how to talk to women that weren't family members and never gained the courage to do so.

It was one of his biggest regrets from his teenage years.

The last time he had seen her was at the after party of their graduating day. She wore a daisy flower crown and was sparkling in a golden dress. He had never seen someone as beautiful as her—even to this day.

Unbeknownst to Rowan, Aelin had felt the same way. She was confident back then as she was now, but every time she wanted to go up to Rowan to talk to him, to get to know him, the butterflies in her stomach threatened to strangle her.

So she never did ask him out. And here she was now, ten years later, in his car. He was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

She was still pissed as hell though that he hit her with his car.

It had only taken a moment, a single moment, for her to realise who it was she was sitting next to. The moment that the hand towel touched her face and she breathed in the pine and snow scent of it, she was transported back to the past.

“How have you been?” Rowan asked her after long minutes. His green eyes still as pretty as the day Aelin saw them. She was sure that was what she loved about him the most all those years ago. Other than Lysandra's, Aelin had never seen such a stunning green.

Aelin snorted, her fond memories disappearing at the inane question. “You were listening when I was ranting, weren't you? My day has been shit.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, and her heart skipped a beat. He still smiled the same. She had liked that about him, too. Still did, apparently.

“No, I mean how's life been since graduation? You mentioned writers block. Are you a writer then?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I write fantasy-adventure-romance novels under the name of Celaena Sardothien.” She had liked the animosity of it all, with none of her books containing a single photograph of her.

“That's amaz—wait. You mean to tell me that you're the writer of the 'Fireheart' series?”

Aelin smiled proudly. “That's me. Have you read them?”

“I have. It's one of my favourite series.” They were his guilty pleasure, really, but it felt rude to say that out loud, as if it was shameful.

Aelin blinked, taken aback at the confession. “Really? You mean to tell me that brooding Rowan Whitethorn reads romance novels?”

Rowan frowned a little bit at that. “I don't brood. Not anymore.”

“You're brooding right now.”

Rowan grumbled. Okay, maybe he was, just a little bit, however.

“How about you, though?” Aelin asked. “How's life been?”

“Busy. And right now, it's a bit shitty. I'm sorry for hitting you with my car, truly. We should get you to a hospital, though. Just to make sure that you're okay, please,” he added, when he saw that she opened her mouth to likely protest. “I won't be able to sleep if it turns out you need a hip replacement or something and I didn't take you to get checked out.”

Aelin truly doubted she would need a hip replacement, but nodded anyway. “Okay, you can take me to the hospital. And then afterwards, I'll give you my number and you can take me out to dinner.”

Rowan blinked at that and then smiled. He had always like confidence in a person. “Okay, it's a date.”

“I've never had a date after a hospital visit.”

“Well, then, I better make it great.”

Aelin smiled, warmth filling her. The day turning out a little nicely, despite it all. “You better.”

x x x x x

As Rowan lead Aelin to the dance floor, he couldn't believe his luck. Never in a thousand years did he think that accidentally hitting Aelin with his car would lead to this.

To their first dance as husband and wife.

It had been exactly one year to the day when he saw her again after ten years. It was very much an Aelin thing to want to have their wedding anniversary to match the date.

The story had been re-told by a slightly tipsy Fenrys as part of his best man speech, about how Rowan would be the only man in the world to meet his future wife by way of a car accident. The story always made people laugh, with people saying that the universe must have wanted to get them together and was sick of them taking too long.

Because as it turned out, when Rowan and Aelin's relationship grew and they learned more about their ten years of life, they were always somehow minutes away from running into each other. From when Rowan was starting his hike in the Southern Continent, Aelin had just finished hers and was going back to her hotel—the very fact that they were staying at the same hotel, but floors apart.

When Rowan had missed out on book tickets to a signing of her third novel in the Fireheart series, and he had to turn around and leave the bookstore since it was a private function just as Aelin was moments away from going on.

From going to the same concerts, to the same festivals, from seemingly everything that they had in common, they had missed each other by minutes.

They silently thanked the universe, even if the way they ran into each other was less than ideal. But they wouldn't change it for the world.

Rowan kissed his wife and thanked his lucky stars.

[buckybarnesdollface]

First One Loses

Summary: Bucky and Reader have to make everything a competition, to the point where it drives the rest of the team nuts. But can their competitiveness lead to something more than the sexual tension between two frenemies?

Warnings: Smut, Female reader 

          “Ha! I win!” I exclaimed, jumping up from the couch excitedly as the Penguins scored the winning goal against the Rangers in overtime. The scowl on Bucky’s face was dark, and the others rolled their eyes. I grinned as I held out my hand to Bucky. “C’mon, Barnes, pay up. My team beat yours, you owe me.”

           “I hate you,” he grumbled as he dropped a crumpled twenty-dollar bill into my palm. I stuck my tongue out at him as I pocketed it, and his glare intensified.

           “Do you two have to make everything into a competition?” Steve sighed.

           “Yeah,” Sam agreed. “We can’t enjoy anything anymore without you two turning it into a game that turns into a fight. We’re just gonna start excluding you from things.”

           I shrugged. “Maybe if Barnes wasn’t such a sore loser…” I pointed out, and Bucky shot up from his armchair.

           “You know what, (Y/N) –” he started, but Steve hopped up and placed himself between us before it could escalate.

           “Enough!” he ordered, using his authoritative Captain America voice. “Now, we were going to watch a movie, but if you two can’t grow up long enough to do that then you can find somewhere else to act like children.”

           Bucky scowled. “I can behave, it’s her you should be concerned about,” he muttered, and I rolled my eyes.

           “Oh, shut it, Barnes,” I snapped, and then I turned to Steve with a sugary-sweet smile on my face. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Stevie, I promise. I’m just gonna go grab some snacks and drinks while you boys pick out a movie.”

           With one last smile I headed out to the kitchen. I had just emptied a bag of tortilla chips into a bowl when Bucky stalked into the kitchen, blue eyes narrowed into slits.

           “Next game, fifty bucks,” he snapped, and I snorted.

           “Oh, honey, when are you gonna learn that your team never beats mine?” I taunted as I pulled a jar of salsa out of the cupboard. “If you want to win at something, maybe pick a different game.”

           “I’ve beat you at plenty of things,” Bucky shot back. “For instance, you’d never win in a one-on-one with me.”        

           “The hell I wouldn’t!” I cried. “I’d kick your ass, old man.”

           “In what universe, doll? The only reason I’m not proving I could beat you is because maybe I’d feel slightly guilty if I hurt you.”

           I barked out a laugh. “The only reason I’m not proving to you that I’d win is because I don’t want to embarrass you in front of the guys. Imagine how it would look if the Winter Soldier got his ass handed to him by a girl.”

           “Don’t call me that,” Bucky snarled, eyes dark as he fixed them on me intensely. I bit my lip, meeting his eyes with a challenging gaze.

           “Or what…James?”

           What happened next happened in a blur. Suddenly, Bucky’s vibranium hand was around my throat as his large body trapped me against the counter. His grip was neither tight enough to cut off my air supply nor leave bruises, but it was enough to remind me that he could very easily crush my windpipe if he wanted to. For a split second I was paralyzed, afraid that maybe I had finally pushed him too far. Ever since we’d met our relationship had consisted of trying to best each other at almost everything while getting under each other’s skin, but it had never resulted in anything more than banter. But now, as my breaths quickened and my heart hammered against my ribcage, I feared I’d crossed a line.

           So when Bucky’s lips crashed against mine, my eyes widened in shock. He tasted of iced tea and his hand on my throat was cool, and it took a moment before I could gather my senses enough to shove him away from me. He released his grip on my throat but didn’t step back, his body still dangerously close to mine.

           “Barnes, wh-what are you doing?” I stuttered. His eyes were still intense as they continued to hold mine.

           “What’s wrong, (Y/N)? Did you think I was actually going to hurt you?”

           “Of course not,” I scoffed, but Bucky shook his head with a smirk.

           “I could feel your pulse, doll; your heart rate spiked,” he murmured. “So either you were scared, or you’re a lot filthier than everyone thinks you are. Which one is it?”

           Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t do something to me. I shouldn’t have even entertained the thought; I should have pushed past him and taken the snacks to the common room so we could watch the movie with Steve and Sam. But ever since I’d met Bucky there had been unresolved sexual tension between us, and my curiosity to see how he planned to resolve it outweighed my ability to make good decisions.

           “You don’t scare me, Barnes,” I said defiantly, and with a grin Bucky’s lips were back on mine. His hands found my hips as mine clenched at the front of his black t-shirt, backing me up against the counter, and when my teeth grazed his bottom lip he growled into my mouth.

           “I had a feeling you were the type of girl to like it rough,” he breathed, hands on my hips tightening. I tugged at his shirt to pull him closer to me.

           “Are you telling me you’ve given this some thought, Barnes?” I taunted. His lips were hot on my throat as I spoke. “Do you think about me at night while you’re lying in bed and can’t sleep?”

           “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, (Y/N),” Bucky replied as he nipped playfully at the shell of my ear. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

           “Oh, you mean the disgust?”

           Bucky laughed. “You can use sass to deflect all you want, doll; doesn’t change the fact that you’ve thought about this as much as I have.”

           He wasn’t wrong. I’d thought about what it would be like more often than I’d like to admit even to myself – Surely with a body like that, it wouldn’t disappoint. I only smiled demurely, though, fingers closing around Bucky’s belt buckle to pull him closer to me.

           “A lady never tells,” I murmured. Bucky’s smirk was wicked.

           “I don’t see any ladies here.”

           I rolled my eyes as my fingers undid his belt buckle and then popped the button of his jeans. “Shut up for once, Barnes,” I growled, “so we can do this before Steve and Sam come looking for us.”

           Before I could get my hand in his pants, Bucky was lifting me and sitting me on the cool marble countertop and standing between my legs, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re such a romantic,” he taunted as his hands rubbed up and down my thighs. I huffed.

           “Fuck you, Barnes.”

           “That’s the plan.”

           Then his mouth was back on mine, hands exploring skin under shirts as tongues fought for dominance. When we broke apart to catch our breaths, I grinned mischievously.

           “How about we make this interesting,” I suggested, and Bucky cocked a dark eyebrow.

           “More interesting than us hooking up in the kitchen where anyone could walk in on us?” he said, fingertips grazing the skin just below the cup of my bra. I suppressed a soft moan and flashed him my brightest smile.

           “First one to make a noise loses.”

           I watched as Bucky’s eyes went from widening in shock to narrowing as a slow grin spread across his face. “(Y/N)…” he murmured, squeezing my hips playfully. “What will the stakes be, though?”

           “If I win,” I said, “you have to do all my paperwork for a month.”

           “Deal,” he said, more quickly than I had expected. I arched an eyebrow.

           “That easy? Wow,” I said, almost cautiously.

           Bucky’s smile was a mile wide. “And if I win,” he murmured, “you go on a date with me.”

           I blinked, thinking maybe I had heard him wrong. But his smile never faltered, bordering on smug as he watched what was sure to be an entire rollercoaster of emotions on my face. Finally, I shook my head, confused.

           “I’m sorry, did you say a date?” I asked incredulously. “Barnes, are you messing with me?”

           “Not at all, doll,” he replied. “If I win, we go out on a date. I get to pick the time and place. Do we have a deal?”

           “A date.” My head was still reeling. Bucky’s hands on me had stilled, and although his smile was still playful his eyes were serious. I pursed my lips, unsure of what game he was playing at, but finally I exhaled a sigh and nodded. “Fine. Deal. Game on, but only because I know I’ll win and I won’t have to worry about it.”

           Blue eyes sparkling, Bucky captured my lips in another hungry kiss. My hands were back at the waistband of his jeans, fingertips dancing along the skin of his abdomen and as his muscles clenched under my touch I grinned into the kiss. Tugging down his zipper, I slipped my hand into the denim and palmed him through his underwear, delighted with how large and solid he was. I could feel his sharp intake of breath as his lips briefly stilled against mine, but no noise came out and my brows furrowed together in frustration. Hand slipping past the cotton of his boxer briefs, I gripped him in my hand, marvelling briefly at how hot and heavy and velvety-soft yet rock-hard he was, and then gave a few experimental pumps.

           Bucky’s breath came out ragged and his hands on my waist tightened in a bruising grip, but still no noise. When I pulled back to meet his eyes, though, he looked absolutely wrecked and I could feel the arousal pooling in my panties. His hands found the waistband of my leggings and tugged lightly, and I lifted my hips so he could slide them and my underwear from my body to be discarded on the floor at his feet. My fingers were still wrapped around his throbbing member, but when Bucky’s flesh hand snaked between my thighs to swipe lightly through my folds, I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning, my grip on him tightening involuntarily.

          Bucky’s teeth clenched, but then he pulled his hand away from me and I was about to glare at him until I watched him lift his fingers, glistening with my arousal, to his mouth to suck them clean, his eyes holding mine the entire time.

          Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest, most sinful thing I had ever seen before. Unable to wait a second longer, I hooked my legs around Bucky’s waist to pull him closer, my hand guiding his length to my entrance. With sparkling eyes he took over, sliding his member through my slick folds before sliding home in one powerful thrust.

          The air was momentarily knocked from my lungs, and my hands gripped Bucky’s arms – one hot flesh and one unyielding metal – to ground myself. He only gave me a few seconds to adjust to his size before he was pulling out and then pushing back in, setting a ruthless pace that had every nerve in my body buzzing with pleasure. I had imagined sex with Bucky would be good, but this – This was on an entirely different level from what I had ever experienced before. I was climbing higher and faster than I’d thought possible, and even though I wanted to be able to drag out this feeling as long as I could, I knew it was only a matter of time before Steve and Sam started getting suspicious.

          Bucky’s mouth had been planting sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on my throat, but now his lips had made their way back up to claim mine heatedly. His hands on me were dizzying, bordering on possessive, holding me tight to him as he drove into me with vigor. My legs around him tightened, one hand under his shirt to rake my nails down his back while the other carded through his hair to tug at the ends. It was all tongues and teeth, hot flesh and desperate grasping, and as we climbed higher it felt less like a competition of who could make who cry out first, and more like a need to be as close to each other as humanly possible.

          Trying to focus on my original goal, I purposely clenched around Bucky and rolled my hips, but his resolve was iron-strong and the only thing I earned was a particularly hard thrust as his teeth nipped at my jaw. When his vibranium hand snaked down to rub circles on my clit, that was it; I couldn’t stop the low moan that vibrated past my lips. I wanted to be mad at myself for losing our bet, but Bucky’s cock and his hands and lips were playing me like a violin and all I could focus on was how tight the coil in my stomach was.

          “Bucky…” I whined, completely succumbing to my defeat, and a growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest as he continued to piston his hips into me.

          “Come for me, doll,” he panted, fingers working my clit furiously. He swallowed my moan in a deep kiss and then pulled away, his forehead pressed to mine. “C’mon, (Y/N); you’re close, I can feel it. Come for me, baby girl.”

          And just like that, the coil snapped and stars exploded in my eyes. I bit down on Bucky’s shoulder to muffle my cry, and then Bucky’s hips stuttered and he was emptying himself inside me with a quiet groan. For a minute we stayed there, clutching at each other as our breathing slowed, and then Bucky was pulling out of me and I slid off the counter onto unsteady feet.

          I coughed, trying to fill the now-awkward silence, and as Bucky handed me my discarded clothes, I mumbled a thanks. As I yanked my leggings back up my legs, I watched Bucky shimmy his hips back into his jeans before buckling his belt. I was waiting for him to say something, but he was being frustratingly silent.          

          “Steve and Sam are definitely wondering where we are,” he finally said, grabbing some beers from the fridge. “We should get back in there before they ask too many questions.”

          “Wait.” I shook my head. “After what just happened, that’s all you have to say?”

          “Of course not, doll,” he said, and then he came over and stood so that I was caged between him and the counter. His smile was wicked as he leaned in until his face was centimetres from mine, and I hated the way my body was reacting to being this close to him. “Tomorrow night,” he murmured, hot breath fanning over my face, “wear something pretty for our date.”

          With that he pulled away with a wink and turned, heading back to the common room. I glared after him, but it was half-hearted. My stomach was doing flip-flops and I tried to suppress them as I grabbed the chips and salsa and followed Bucky to the common room.

          “So what movie did you guys pick?” I asked as I walked in, forcing myself to act as if nothing had happened. I set the chips and salsa on the coffee table and popped a chip into my mouth.

          “Top Gun,” Steve replied, and I nodded my approval. I turned to my chair as Sam hit ‘play’ on the remote, but froze when I found Bucky sitting there, grinning up at me like the Cheshire cat.

          “Something wrong, doll?” he asked, face smug, and I could feel my neck grow hot.

          “You’re in my chair, Barnes.”

          His arms swept wide around the room. “There are plenty of seats in here. You can’t claim a chair as yours.”

          “Except I always sit there,” I growled, and Bucky shrugged.

          “That sounds like a you problem.”

          “Fine,” I said, and then I walked over and plopped down into his lap. “If you won’t move, you’ll have to share.”

          I could feel Bucky’s muscles tense up beneath me, and Steve and Sam both looked at us with wide eyes. I only adjusted myself in Bucky’s lap, though, making myself more comfortable, and finally Bucky’s arm circled loosely around me as he chuckled.

          “I guess I can share,” he teased lightly, and Sam shook his head.

          “You two are the worst,” he griped. “Just…keep your hands where we can see them. You’ve already defiled the kitchen; this room is off limits.”

          I blanched. “What?”

          Steve rolled his eyes. “Do you really think we don’t know what was going on out there?” he asked. “I don’t care how quiet you think you were being; you seem to forget that supersoldier hearing is a thing.”

          The blush crept up my neck, and Bucky chuckled ruefully. “Sorry, Stevie. We’ll behave.”

          “You’d better. Goddamn animals,” Sam grumbled. My embarrassment grew, but as the movie started to play the guys’ attention was diverted. Bucky’s arm around me tightened and his lips were light at my ear.

          “How about we make that date tonight instead,” he murmured. “I wanna do this right, but I also don’t think I can wait until tomorrow night to be inside you again.”

          I sucked in a sharp breath. “Bucky…”

          “Ssh, doll, I told Stevie we’d behave. Watch the movie, and I promise I’ll make tonight a night you’ll never forget.”

          A shiver ran down my spine, but I strengthened my resolve and settled in to watch the movie. After all, I was never one to back down from a challenge.

[writtenvisionary]

please don’t hurt me.

wrote for the prompt “start a story with ‘please don’t hurt me’” sent in by an anon to @mlwritersguild!

Summary: Tom says something that strikes Adrien the wrong way. Sabine goes into mama bear mode.

tw - mentions of abuse, small panic attack

Read on Ao3

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Sabine Cheng stares, mouth agape, at her daughter’s boyfriend. Her heart clenches at the tremble in his voice; the quiver of his bottom lip; the shakiness of his hands. The words he had just uttered came at an unexpected time and she’s now realizing that there’s something very wrong.

Adrien had been coming to the bakery for weeks now, both to see his girlfriend and to learn the skill of baking. He never explicitly said it, but he left hints that father had been controlling his meals. Already having a daughter with a fast metabolism, she knew that it was important for teenagers to eat well and often; it’s imperative for their health. This is why she encouraged him to join their family dinners almost every night, and Tom had invited him to learn how to bake.

Getting out of his father’s grip was hard, she was aware. He had to lie consistently, both to his bodyguard and his father’s assistant, in order to have dinner with his girlfriend and her parents.

She notices how jumpy and skittish he can be sometimes. This behavior only ever increases around Tom, and she wants to believe it’s because he’s a big, burley man with a drive to protect his only daughter, but she knows it has to do with his father.

(But to be honest, she forgets these things sometimes.)

Like tonight, they had been rolling the dough for a new batch of bread and joking around, when Tom said something that struck a nerve.

He had said, “Don’t disappoint me, son.”

Tom meant it jokingly, as their previous conversation had been about how Adrien might want to pursue a degree in culinary arts when he goes to university, and he fully supports this decision.

Both parents realized too late that Adrien isn’t used to hearing jokes from the adults around him. Words like that are only said in a negative connotation around him, so they really should have known better.

Adrien had gone pale, pausing his kneading of dough, and his eyes lowered to the ground. She watched in growing concern as he gulped and clenched his fists tightly for a short moment.

After sparing a glance to her husband, she took a tentative step over to Adrien. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he violently flinched away from her touch. Her heart dropped.

“Honey, he didn’t mean it like that…”

Her attempts at consoling him fell flat, because he didn’t seem to hear her. His glazing eyes stared past her at a blank spot on the wall. His breath became shallow, and he brought his arms up to wrap around his chest as a form of security.

“Adrien, I—“

Tom stops short as the young boy in front of him squeezes his eyes tight and takes a step backwards.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

It was a feeble request, his voice shaking with every word.

“Adrien, honey, no one is going to hurt you,” she says softly, holding one of her palms up to show that she has no intentions of putting it near him.

He still doesn’t open his eyes, instead his breath quickens even more. Tom bites his lip as he leans towards his wife, then whispers, “He’s having a panic attack. I’ll go get Marinette and some water for him.”

As a silent thanks, Sabine places a hand on his large forearm, and sends him a sad smile. He walks away, leaving her with a panicking Adrien.

She’s not sure what to do; Marinette had never told her that Adrien experienced bad anxiety. Her daughter is keeping a lot of secrets from her (which she is frustrated about, because she should know certain things as her mother; but also, she understands that Marinette is a teenager and she’s happy to respect her boundaries), but Sabine wishes that this was something she had told her. That way she might be able to help.

The sound of footsteps trampling down the stairs makes her whip her head around, seeing Marinette running hurriedly towards Adrien.

She slows, letting out a slow breath as she takes in the situation.

“Kitty, hey, hey, hey…” she says loudly, but not loud enough to where it startles him. “I’m here. You’re panicking. Kitty, can I touch you?”

Subconsciously, Sabine wonders where the nickname ‘kitty’ came from, but that’s not something to worry about right now.

Adrien, his breathing still unchanged, manages to crack open his eyes into slits. They dance around the room wearily, before landing on Marinette. Sabine swears she can see his fists uncurl slightly.

“Hi, kitten. Could I hold your hand?”

It takes a minute for him to acknowledge that she had asked a question, but then he just barely nods. Marinette takes this opportunity to move closer, cautiously, and slips her hand into his’. She meets his eyes.

“Okay. I want you to tell me five things you can see right now. Anything.”

His lip quivers and he lets out a small whimper, before blinking out a slew of tears.

“Uh. You.”

Sabine is astonished at how Marinette is able to stay calm in this situation. Her smile to him is forced, but comforting, and the mother can’t shake the evidence that she’s done this before.

“Amazing,” she hears Marinette say. “What else?”

Adrien sniffs, shifting his eyes to the wall behind the girl in front of him. “Th-that poster.”

“You’re doing great, kitty. Three more.”

Tom joins Sabine, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side. She exhales at the contact, watching as Adrien rattles off item after item, feel after feel, sound after sound, smell after smell, and can’t help but wonder how often her daughter has helped bring him down from a panic attack.

Another question she has is, what prompted this? She knows that he’s not used to hearing jokes told in that manner, but that’s not enough to send someone into a spiral. It was his reaction to the specific words said to him.

There's one thing she can figure out right away; Mr. Agreste calls Adrien ‘son’; that may have reminded him of the man. Adrien is a people pleaser; just the mere thought of disappointing someone could cause him to spiral.

Although, even with this information, she still feels like there’s a part of the puzzle missing. She replays the scene in her head over and over again until she can’t take it anymore, and nothing.

Words cannot describe how dumb she feels when Marinette talks to them, once Adrien is asleep in her room.

“His father is, cut and dry, mentally and physically abusive.”

Marinette speaks with such vindictiveness that it takes Sabine aback for a moment.

“Abusive? I know he’s a bit overprotective, honey, but—“

“Mom.”

Marinette’s tone makes Sabine stop in her tracks.

“He gaslights him constantly, telling him that he needs to be perfect and that if not, he’s a disappointment. That’s why your words struck something in him, dad. And Gabriel locks him in his room, doesn’t let him see his friends for weeks, and when Adrien can finally hang out with us, it’s only for an hour. He doesn’t join him for dinner — Adrien has to set a damn appointment to get this luxury — and hugs from him are rare. He’s neglectful and says things that hurt, and….”

Sabine’s eyes are wide in shock hearing everything. She’s sure that’s it, but when her daughter trails off, her fear only grows.

“What, sweetie?”

“…He hit him the other day.”

“What?”

It wasn’t her that spoke, but Tom. She glanced over to see him fuming. His eyebrows are narrowed and jaw is clenched. She can feel anger surging in her chest, as well.

Marinette shifts on her feet, seemingly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, and nods.

“I don’t know exactly what happened, but I met him for pa— for a picnic in the park, and his shirt rode up. A huge bruise was on his abdomen.”

Sabine felt that she was telling a white lie there, but there are more important topics at hand.

“Has Gabriel ever hit him before?” She asks, worried for the boy she considers a son.

Marinette shrugs, “Adrien hasn’t admitted it, but I suspect that he has. Its not the first time I’ve seen him with bruises. They’re in different places all the time, though, so I just passed it off as clumsiness… but…”

“But you’re clumsier than him and come home with less bruises,” Tom breathes, finally pulling his hands away from his face and looking at his daughter, who nods.

“Gabriel doesn’t even talk to him unless he does something to disturb the appearance of his brand and reputation. But when he ‘acts out,’ Adrien gets more than enough attention from him; the wrong kind.”

Tom gulps.

“Right. And who really knows what goes on behind closed doors?”

The room falls into a tense silence.

“I understand that you were just messing around, dad. It’s just… when those words are something he hears almost every day, he’s going to take it seriously. Especially when he was raised to be perfect, and any little mistake will get him punished.

“It’s a reflex. He trusts you, dad, but years of trauma build up.”

Marinette’s explanation helps the older couple understand the situation a bit better. Tom suddenly feels extremely guilty. He holds his head in his hands, grumbling to himself. Sabine rubs his leg, keeping her attention on Marinette.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Marinette?”

“I wanted to, and I was getting there. Adrien just…” she sighs. “He was afraid that things would get worse if someone found out.”

“Well, things will get worse before they get better…”

She looks to the ground. “I know. And he’s already been suffering so much that I…”

Marinette trails off, feeling her eyes well up with tears. Instead of fighting them, she lets them fall.

Sabine frowns, taking everything that’s been said into consideration.

“Do you have any proof of the bruises?”

Tom perks up, “Yes! If we collect evidence against his father, there’s a better chance to get him out of there.”

“I snuck a few pictures here and there. I wish I had a video, though…”

Sabine raises an eyebrow, “The mansion’s security cameras?”

She watches her daughter’s eyes light up, then dim, and then light up again. There’s a flash of determination in them, as well, and she can’t help but wonder what she’s planning.

“You’re right,” is all she says, before her optimistic facade turns sour.

“But I don’t know how I’ll get to them without being caught.”

The room falls silent for a minute as they all think about the best course of action.

Tom coughs, catching his wife and daughter’s attention. He shrugs.

“Is there anyone at that house Adrien can trust?”

“Umm. The only person I can think of is his bodyguard, even though we’ve run from him plenty of times,” Marinette says. “He’s pretty quiet, though, so I don’t know if he agrees with Gabriel’s parenting or not. I’ll ask Adrien, though.”

“I’d say it’s worth a shot. Every encounter with that man has been lovely. I’d like to think he’s still working there just for Adrien,” Tom says.

Sabine nods, letting her mind wander. She can’t help but think of every time Adrien has faked a smile, rubbed his arms, rocked back and forth on his feet… Every time he’s had dark circles under his eyes and the ghost of tear streaks on his cheeks... She’s starting to realize that those were all tells, and she should’ve noticed sooner. She feels guiltier than ever.

“Mom?”

Marinette’s voice pulls her away from her thoughts. She blinks, feeling tears gather in her eyes.

When had I started to tear up?

“Sorry, sorry! Let’s, uh—“ she pauses, not knowing what to say, before choosing her next words. “Let’s have him sleep here for the night and see what we can do tomorrow?”

Tom nods beside her.

“Yeah. It might be too soon to worry about all of this right now. Adrien will want to know that we know, too.”

Marinette sighs, “You’re right. He’s not going to be that happy about it. I mean, it took a while for him to understand that the way his father treats him isn’t right, but he’s still working out that concept with you guys. Getting the police involved will just overwhelm him more.”

“True,” Sabine agrees, “but I will not let him stay at that house any longer if that’s what he’s dealing with. No kid should ever go through that.”

She’s serious. No matter what it takes, she will make sure that no one hurts Adrien ever again. Especially not Gabriel Agreste.

[piratefalls]

love confessions, marriage proposals, and first dates, oh my.

or, a long, long list about two idiots sharing one romantic brain cell.

Love Confessions

At Night by ZainClaw

My heart’s pounding,” Buck whispers.

Eddie swallows thickly, his own heart slamming so hard against his ribcage that it’s starting to hurt. He only needs to lean forward ever so slightly for their foreheads to touch, causing both their breaths to stutter into the small space left between them.

“Mine, too,” he admits.

And it almost feels like enough. Just being in this in-between. Just knowing they both feel something that’s more. More than just best friends. Without having to take the leap and change their relationship forever. Without doing something that can’t be undone.

xenacious by annabeth_writes

xenacious • adjective • filled with a yearning for change

or

Buck couldn’t pinpoint the moment he fell in love with his best friend but he sure as hell could point to the precise moment that he decided to do something about it.

nothing safe is worth the drive by eddiediazbeloved

Post-Treasure Hunt after Buck's made his moves towards Taylor and she turned him down.

--

Buck felt like he was floating.

And not in a good way. It felt like he was floating in a way that he hadn’t felt in a while. He felt listless, aimless, purposeless. Therapy was supposed to be helping him, he was supposed to be sorting through this — this thing that he had, this issue with abandonment, this need for everyone around him to constantly reassure him that they wanted him around.

The real problem was that this abandonment thing wasn’t just a single loose thread that Buck just had to untangle and then set right. It was a million little threads all knotted together, threads from his past relationships, threads from his family, threads from his friends, threads from work, twisting and weaving together into this suffocating blanket of shame. He wanted to be needed, wanted to be loved. He wanted it so badly that it made him feel sick, made bitterness creep up the back of his tongue, made his skin itch.

The Beauty of the Chaos by prettyboybuckley

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to put a hand on Buck’s cheek. He can see the uncertainty, the insecurity, in Buck's eyes. Buck’s glasses have slipped down a bit and he uses his thumb to carefully push them back up the bridge of his nose.

“There is no one way you have to act or be,” he says and he means it with all his heart. “Nobody cares if you’re energetic and chaotic or quiet and nerdy or however you are or want to be. We love you any and every way you are.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks and he sounds a little breathless.

Eddie grins. “Yeah. And hey, I like it when you’re being nerdy, especially with the way it’s rubbing off on my son, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you any other time. I’m not perfect either and you’ve always known exactly how to pull me out of my shell with your enthusiasm and energy”

OR: Buck once again learns more about himself – and Eddie loves him through it all. And those glasses, Eddie definitely loves those glasses too.

the urgency of now by wayfarer

Buck is pretty sure the universe is actively trying to murder him at this point. There’s just no other explanation. In the last two years he has been blown up and subsequently crushed by a fire truck, suffered from a pulmonary embolism, nearly drowned in a tsunami and now this. How many times can he almost die before it stops being an accident and starts being some kind of cosmic hit put out on his life?

Or, a building collapses on Buck and Eddie. Confessions ensue.

crystal clear on a starlit night by eddiesdiaz

All his life, Eddie never realized that there was an explanation to the way he felt about sex. He had no idea there was a word that encompassed all the feelings that had always been too big and overwhelming for him to name.

He’d always assumed it was just another thing that was wrong with him. His list of flaws and shortcomings had always been a long one, after all, so it was easy to believe this, too, stemmed from being fucked up and broken beyond repair.

stars choose their lovers (save my soul) by extasiswings

Most of the time, Buck feels like there’s no one in the world who understands Eddie as well as he does. Most of the time. Because there are still some other times when he’s completely in the dark.

And sure, okay, it makes sense on some level because they all have their blind spots—of course he’s going to have a few where Eddie is concerned as well—but they never fail to catch him by surprise.

[For the prompts: “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?” and “You’re more than that.”]

might crash staring at you in the car by farfromthstars

Hey can you pick me up at chris’ school? Everything went wrong today and we’re on our way there in an uber. I’ll tell cap Less than a minute later, Buck has texted back, be there in 20! hang tight, and Eddie breathes out.

Hopeless Times Call For Rainbow Sprinkles by znks

"Buck didn’t look Eddie in the eye as he slipped out of the room, just in case he accidentally blurted something out like ‘hey, by the way, your son somehow knows I’m in love with you and he’s dropping some heavy hints that he’s chill with it’.

Christopher kept coming back from the library with rainbow books, he’d added kids’ movies with same-sex parents to their queue, and he’d looked Buck right in the eye when he’d picked a balloon that said ‘pride’ on it at a fair."

Or, Christopher has run out of goddamn patience so he's taking matters into his own hands.

in a car with a beautiful boy by outphan

"Buck crashed into his life, brighter than a meteorite, lighting up everything around Eddie. Life suddenly made sense. It made sense before, with Shannon and especially with Christopher, but it’s always been a little bit off-kilter, like someone forgot to remove the lens from the camera.

Then Buck happened."

Chris has a birthday party to attend an hour and a half away. Buck volunteers to go with Eddie and by the time they get home, their life will have forever changed.

on the radio by elisela

His radio had been stripped off along with the rest of his gear, but Hen’s is within reach, and he makes a grab for it. “Buck,” he says, in what he hopes is a very calm and professional manner, “come on man, you gotta get out, that section isn’t stable. Everyone is accounted for.”

Say Anything...As Long As It's I Love You by allyasavedtheday

“Why are you writing?” Chris asks, moving forward to try and get a glimpse at Eddie’s notepad. He hugs it close to his chest before he can think better of it and Chris frowns at him.

“Just, um.” Eddie flounders, grappling for some kind of legitimate excuse. “Just something for Buck,” he says finally, hoping that’ll satisfy Chris enough not to ask any more questions.

“What kind of thing?” he asks, trying to take another peek at Eddie’s notepad as he sits next to him on the couch.

And Eddie seriously debates telling him but figures confiding in his ten year old about his feelings for his best friend is probably a low point he doesn’t want to engage in.

“I’m- I’m trying to cheer Buck up,” he says. Buck doesn’t need cheering up at this particular moment but Eddie figures being told ‘I love you’ always makes people happy.

Christ looks at the TV again, mind clearly working over. “And Buck likes love stories!” he announces when he decides he’s cracked it.

*

In which Buck loves romcoms and Eddie pines AKA Buck's about to get wooed within an inch of his life as soon as Eddie can figure out how to organise his notes.

Here Where We Should Be (Kiss Me, It’s Christmas) by allisonRW96

Christopher beams brighter than the lights surrounding him and Buck smirks. “Speaking of Rudolph,” he says, reaching behind him to pull something out of the pocket of his jeans.

“No,” Eddie answers before he can even see the objects clearly. “Absolutely not.”

In Buck’s left hand is a headband. A brown one with fuzzy little ears and tall antlers that Eddie is one hundred percent certain are about to light up.

It’s Christmas and Eddie decides he can’t possibly wait any longer to start kissing Buck.

unfold me (tell me you love me) by extasiswings

Eddie follows the sound of running water to the kitchen. He stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and spends a moment just watching Buck scrub potatoes in the sink until the other man glances up and notices him.

“Hey,” Buck greets. “Chris is reading in his room, I’m just working on dinner. How was the date?”

God, I love you, Eddie thinks, and nearly has to bite his tongue to keep it to himself.

[Or: Eddie goes on a date and has some realizations about what he really wants.]

i only see daylight by eddiesdiaz

Buck’s good at a lot of things. He’s good at most things, actually, in that effortless kind of way that would be annoying in anyone else but is somehow just endearing when it’s Buck.

As it turns out, though, singing is one of the rare exceptions.

Valentine’s Day

last night (i woke the fuck up) by ariavederci

“So. I know you have the day off on Sunday.”

Groaning, Buck let his head thump lightly against the wall. TK was fucking relentless. “No, TK. I already told you, I’m not gonna let you set me up with your friend.”

Take Another Little Pizza My Heart by Phreakycat

In which Buck helps Christopher with his Valentines for school, and discovers some things about himself.

OR

Buck is oblivious, but Eddie loves him anyway.

be my valentine by coup_de_foudre

“What sort of stupid joke is this, Buck?”

Buck gapes, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. “Hey, I didn’t do this! I was driving.”

(or Christopher gets sick of his dad and Buck being oblivious idiots and decides to help them out)

Marriage Proposal

no doubt in my mind where you belong by spinningincircles

“I want to marry you.”

Buck doesn’t skip a beat, doesn’t even look away from the TV, when he responds, “Okay, but I think you need to get me a ring first.”

i bloom just for you by eddiesdiaz

“What do you miss the most about Texas?”

The question takes Eddie by surprise; he and Buck have been staring at his TV screen in silence for the better part of an hour now. They just got off a 24-hour shift, and they’re both dead to the world, but Eddie had mentioned that Chris was sleeping over at a friend’s and he was dreading going home to an empty house, and Buck had followed him home, simple as that.

“Is it the food? I bet the barbecue’s amazing,” Buck muses, pulling a laugh out of Eddie.

“The barbecue is incredible,” Eddie confirms with a nod. “Honestly, though?”

Buck raises an eyebrow, humming to encourage Eddie to go on.

“The bluebonnets.”

Paper Rings by buckleyblueyes

Maddie went quiet for a moment, looking at him not with pity, but instead with empathy, and shared sadness. “So. What did you find, then?”

“An engagement ring.” The words weighed heavy on his tongue. “He’s going to propose to Ana.”

all the roads, for your steps by hattalove

“I have a minute,” Bobby, still standing there, says when Eddie just blinks at him, frozen. “Are you okay? You look like you need to sit down.”

“I’m, uh,” Eddie swallows, “I’m cursing the patriarchy. Just give me a second.”

or, eddie has a question to ask.

i’ve been thinking ‘bout the way you smile, golden by soyxunxperdedor

There is very little that Eddie loves more than mornings like this, where it’s just a little too cold in their bedroom, but perfectly warm under the blankets, and Buck’s arm is wrapped around his waist, palm broad and warm on his skin where his hand had snuck up under the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. Eddie can feel his breath, soft, even puffs exhaled against the back of his neck, the quietest hints of a snore every once in a while.

-or-

Buck and Eddie have soft morning sex, and Eddie has an epiphany

marry me, eddie diaz by elisela

There’s a long silence, and then, “you do that a lot,” Eddie says, looking over at him strangely.

“I do what a lot?”

“Ask me to marry you,” Eddie says. “I know it’s just a joke, but I feel like—” he stops and shakes his head, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

of meteorites and marriage by intotheblue

The woman - Kara, her name tag reads - laughs. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m, uh, looking for an engagement ring.” Eddie rubs his hand along the back of his neck.

“Alright,” Kara says encouragingly, “Why don’t you tell me about your lucky someone.”

“His name is Buck,” Eddie says, smiling despite himself. “He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and the kindest. And he’s beautiful, in every sense of the word.”

transition by thisissirius

Buck’s looking at him, eyes soft, a small smile on his face. He looks good, happy, and Eddie leans down, hand on the back of the couch, the other caressing Buck’s cheek. “Hey.”

life like a face between your palms by hattalove

Buck knows Eddie like he knows the sun will be coming up on the two of them in the morning, hugging the line of Eddie’s shoulder even through the blinds.

And still, somehow, Eddie finds ways to surprise him.

in which eddie is sweet, and buck is a little undone by it.

if I can't have you I'll walk this life alone by ShyAudacity

Buck must be cheating on him. That’s the only explanation Eddie can come up with as to why Buck’s been so secretive lately.

Eddie would bring it up- ask Buck if something’s going on that he doesn’t know about- but a part of him doesn’t want to know the answer. For now, Eddie would rather just pretend that things are fine. The potential destruction of his relationship can wait until after the new year.  

He wants to hold onto this for as long as he can. Whatever is left of it, anyway.

OR

Buck is hiding something from Eddie (but it's not as bad as he thinks).

heaven's here, it's right where you're standing by spinningincircles

But a year later wounds are healed, PT is long done, and he wakes up next to Buck every morning feeling happier than he has in almost a decade. He gets to buy the shirt for him, stock up on yogurt, and press himself into Buck’s space until his eyes get their spark back. He can fantasize about the house they’ll buy or the dogs they’ll adopt once Chris moves out.

He can see a titanium ring in the display case of the jewelry store at the mall and perfectly imagine what it would look like on Buck’s finger.

And he can make it all the way to his truck after buying it before the panic starts to set it.

such stuff as dreams are made on by renecdote

Buck—in a move proving his maturity—sticks his tongue out at him. “You know, I’m pretty sure embarrassing dreams are supposed to be about your own embarrassment.”

“You think it wasn’t embarrassing for me?” Eddie says. “My husband couldn’t dance at our own wedding—I was mortified.”

Buck goes still. It was just a dream, he reminds himself, but something about the way Eddie says it—something about the expression on his face—

“Husband?”

"I guess it's been on my mind a lot lately."

the most important mark to leave by thisissirius

“Dad, Buck’s not gonna say he wants a party. He doesn’t think you want a fuss.”

Eddie is, apparently, a failure of a partner. “Buck—”

“He told Abuela,” Chris says, matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t meant to hear but they thought I was sleeping. He knows you don’t like big celebration things unless they’re inside but he wants a backyard party. He wants fireworks because he thinks they’re cool and he never got them when he was as old as me. He also never got cake like I do. That’s really sad, Dad.”

and longer by far by farfromthstars

“Eddie’s been married once, and after Shannon asked him for a divorce and then died before they could do anything about it, he figured that was it for him. One marriage with all its ups and downs is enough for a lifetime. Granted, he didn’t think he’d fall in love with Buck and be lucky enough for that love to be returned.”

OR

Everyone seems to expect Eddie to propose to Buck any minute now, which is annoying because Eddie doesn’t want to get married again. He's sure of that. Or is he?

tell the whole wide world and this room by hattalove

"I talk a lot. It’s probably not fun to sit through for something you’ll just instantly forget."

Eddie tilts his head. “Who’s forgetting?”

in which we learn about fermented milk products, discover that dolphins are sex fiends, and realize that sometimes, it really is all about knowing and being known.

until you say i do by asgardiun

Eddie didn’t fall for Buck, no, it was a choice. He didn’t trip over the edge, stumble into love, but rather jumped off the cliff, diving head first, knowing he’d be caught somewhere along the way. He chose to lean closer and whisper promises into the air between them. He chose to hold Buck’s face in his hands, a reassurance that he wants this, them together, as long as he can have it. Buck may argue it was the other way around, but Eddie kissed him. All the hoping, all the waiting, he kissed him first, leaving no room for doubt in between. He made a choice, there in the driveway. He’ll make the same one, time and time again.

starlight and star-crossed by lecornergirl

Then Eddie says the last four words Buck ever expected to hear from him. "We should get married."

"I—what?" Buck manages to stutter. It's two syllables more than he thought he'd be capable of.

"Yeah," Eddie says, turning to look at Buck, letting his head loll against the armrest. "For, I don't know, tax benefits and shit. That's a thing people do, isn't it?"

Oh. He doesn't mean it.

Not in the way Buck wants him to mean it, anyway.

to be idle and blessed by iphigenias

“Coming, hot stuff?” he says over his shoulder, the sun sitting just above his curls and turning them so golden Eddie’s heart hurts. Buck’s shrimp-patterned board shorts have ridden up his thighs and there’s a bruise blooming over his left knee he swears he doesn’t remember getting; his face is pink-zinced and beaming, and he’s squinting at Eddie the same way he does when he’s half-asleep, on the couch in front of a movie he’d dozed off to, in opposite bunks at the firehouse at three a.m., in their bed across the thousand thread-count sheets he’d insisted on, cheek scruffy and creased red by the pillow. Christopher’s rash vest has yellow stegosauruses on the sleeves and his prescription goggles make his eyes look strange and googly, and last night when Eddie tucked him into bed his toes almost poked over the end.

Accidental Dating

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

-

or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Buy Back the Secrets by allyasavedtheday

He casts his gaze to the right, to the voice he’d heard a minute ago and the hand still on his shoulder.

And, well. Okay. So Buck may have just been unconscious for an indeterminable length of time but he doesn’t think he’s exaggerating when he says the guy leaning over his bedside is one of the most attractive people he’s seen in a long time. Especially when his face splits into a smile that rivals the brightness of the hospital lights that almost just fucking blinded Buck a second ago.

“Welcome back, hotshot,” the guy says and it sounds fond – familiar – and Buck honestly has no idea who this guy is.

His brown hair is dishevelled on top of his head and his eyes look tired but then Buck notices the LAFD t-shirt so- alright. Someone from the firehouse, maybe? But he’s pretty sure he’d remember a face like that.

*

After getting hurt on a call, Buck wakes up thinking it's 2018. AKA Buck can't remember who Eddie is but he's pretty sure everyone's lying when they say they're "just friends."

First Date

tingles in a silly place by farfromthstars

“No one’s ever given me flowers before,” Eddie admits, and Buck steps closer to him, smiling that smile again.

“Well, I think you deserve to be given flowers,” he says, his hand big and warm on Eddie’s waist. Eddie wants to kiss him so bad, but Buck just squeezes his waist lightly and nods towards the door. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“That’s because it’s a surprise.”

~

Buck and Eddie go on a date.

where the wildflowers grow by asgardiun

When Eddie’s abuelo passed, his abuela turned her grief into a garden of marigolds and poppies and told him that flowers tell a story, written in their own unique language. A single flower carries a garden of weight, and she warned him not to confuse chrysanthemums with carnations.

(I love you; I disdain you with all my heart). She taught him the ones she knew, and he took it upon himself to learn the rest. Quickly, he learned, it is a language of both love and hate. Harebells of grief and black dahlias of betrayal, snapdragons for deception and hemlock for death. Yes, roses are full of love, but a bouquet of the wrong hue is laced with jealousy and “I’d rather stay friends”.

(Or; Buck is determined to woo Eddie, and Eddie finally finds a use for his fluency in flower language).

Slow Dance by stellarmeadow

Buck’s hand was warm, lingering on Eddie’s shoulder as Buck stood. “Great,” he said, that same warmth carrying through to his voice. “It’s a date.”

A date?

Eddie watched through the glass as Buck hurried off, jogging up the stairs to the kitchen.

A date? Like, a date?

Oh shit.